To Walk the Fire (Earth II)

[Terra Reborn]

ACT I

Heart of Oak

Heat of Oak

Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year;
To honour we call you, as freemen not slaves,
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
Heart of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
We always are ready; steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.

We ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay,
They never see us but they wish us away;
If they run, why we follow, and run them ashore,
For if they won't fight us, what can we do more?
Heart of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
We always are ready; steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.

[Terra Reborn]

Captain Andrew Frieze, 2nd Troop, A Squadron, Special Air Service
Industrial District, Karin City, Alaska,
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Tuesday 14th August 2012, 0100hrs Local Time (0100hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1000hrs Zulu Time)

“Okay boys listen in, this is the real deal,” Captain Andrew Frieze of the Imperial Special Air Service, said grimly over the secure radio net as the pair of Blackhawk HU.6 helicopters moved swiftly over the Imperial Capital. “Two hours ago an MI6 asset identified intelligence indicating that there would be an attack on Imperial soil, MI5 have since confirmed that there is a sizable sell operating within Karin City which we believe are planning to launch an attack on within the next six to ten hours, we’ve been called in to try and nip it in the bud before they can strike.”

Frieze paused and looked out the door, they were moving quickly over the industrial district to the west of the city, close to the airport, at night it was still pretty busy with the work ongoing throughout the night, after all the world never slept, so neither did the Imperial economy.

“Our target is a warehouse on the outer edge of the district, UAV seems to indicate that there are about three dozen hostiles on site at the moment, but we may be missing a few,” Frieze continued. “Delta One will deploy with Delta Two through the main gate whilst Delta’s Three and Four will climb over the back gate and take them from behind. Good Luck Gents, lets give these bastards a proper Imperial welcome.”

Frieze picked up his L90A1, the Imperial service designation of the standard carbine version of the XM8, and quickly checked over it before readying it as they made their final approach. The bird carrying Delta One and Two, with the troop sergeant, hovered over the front gate and fast-roped eight SAS troopers onto the ground who began to storm the complex, at the meantime Delta Three and Four, with Frieze, stopped in the alley behind the warehouse and fast-roped down without the hostiles knowing. Frieze was the last off the Blackhawk would remain at the centre of the formation, even if he was still at the tip of the sword. The two sections moved quickly along the alley until they reached the back wall to the complex, working together they were able to assail the wall before reaching back over to pull the rest of the section over. Remaining totally quiet once they were over they quickly ascertained that they had not been spotted and advanced forward towards the sound of gunfire.

Out front the other SAS sections had taken up defensive positions and were holding the attention of the hostiles to allow their counterparts to get into position, they were taking heavy fire but it didn’t look like they had taken any casualties yet. That however wouldn’t stay the same for ever so they were going to have to move and quickly. Frieze glanced up and down his line of troops before leading them forward into the open where they quickly took up positions in cover behind the enemy and before they could notice, their attention was totally on the troops to the front, Frieze’s section had struck from behind and caught the enemy in a vice. The second section had set themselves up on a staggered formation with their counterparts, to ensure that they didn’t hit their own men by mistake, whilst at the same time ensuring that all of the visible hostiles were caught in a hail of 5.56mm gunfire. The swiftly executed flanking manoeuvre had its desired effects as the enemy found themselves in a deadly kill zone between two pissed of sections of SAS troopers. Those that weren’t killed surrendered with heavy injuries.

With the main bulk of the hostiles downed the troop got about the task of quickly securing the rest of the complex, only then would they move for the vans that they believed would be carrying the devices that would be used to launch the terrorist attack. Splitting into their four-man fire teams three such teams quickly swept the complex whilst the fourth guarded the prisoners, it was only once they were clear and reported back that anyone outside of the SAS or MI5 and MI6 were informed of the operation, the Met would be dispatching an armed police unit just in case and MI5 (the security service) was disturbing information on the attack, just in case, so that all departments could prepare for the worst. With the complex secure all they could do was wait, MI5 had insisted on sending a team of their officers down to oversee the extraction of the weapons. Personally Frieze was objecting to the idea of waiting but their team had been five minutes away, that wouldn’t make much of a difference.

The sound of sirens filled the air and soon the area was flooded in flashing blue light, far too high profile for the SAS’ likings, but they were here to do a job. The Armed Police units quickly performed another sweep of the compound in the unlikely event that the SAS has missed something on their own check, before securing the perimeter alongside regular uniformed police. It was a few moments later that the two unmarked vehicles pulled into the compound and eight men and women in smart suits, and distinctive handgun shaped bulges on their belts, strode towards the van where Frieze met them with two of his troopers. He knew they were on the same size but he always preferred to take precautions when it came to spooks. They exchanged brief pleasantries before looking at the first fan, Frieze nodded to his two men who opened up the back of the first van to reveal...nothing. The van was empty. A quick search of the vans confirmed that they were all empty, as they had been secured since the raid began that could only mean that they had been empty for at least that long, most likely longer as there had been no sign of any movements on the UAV in the few hours they had known about the threat.

The lead MI5 Officer turned to the others.

“We need to perform a quick but concise search of this complex, I want every scrap of intelligence we can find,” He instructed them grimly, they all understood the gravity of the situation; there were weapons and explosives in large numbers unaccounted for on Imperial soil. “Grab some of those uniforms and get them to helm, Captain, if I could impose on your troops for the next few hours, it could be vital.”

“Of course,” Frieze replied nodding. “We’ll be staying in the capital in case you need us.”

Frieze watched as the gathered personnel got to work quickly with the search, this time with a worried air to their movements as they carefully checked every inch of the compound. From what he had seen on the way in they would at least get some intelligence but by the looks of it the bastards had cleaned up awfully well. In addition to that the hostiles had fought well under fire, leading him to believe that they weren’t simply some fundamentalist radicals, they seemed much better trained which usually either pointed to an incredibly capable terror group, a mercenary group or trained soldiers, the last two had some pretty dire potential consequences; as most were likely state-sponsored. If a terrorist attack went off on Imperial soil and killed its citizens then the Empire would not simply sit by and allow such a thing to get past; they would strike back in one form or another. Somehow Frieze couldn’t help but think that they weren’t going to be lucky enough to find that kind of intelligence just lying around this warehouse, no if this was a state-sponsored attack they were no doubt going to have to rely on more traditional methods of ascertaining such thing, something that MI6 was almost certainly getting under way.

Frieze sighed. As much as he knew that the Security Service was good at its job he also knew that now that they had lost the weapons before they even began surveillance the chances of them stopping these attacks had just gone down. There would almost certainly be questions asked as to how this was allowed to happen given the modern capabilities of MI5 (and for that matter MI6), how could they only have found out two hours ago. It seemed that once again the Apilonian Empire was only a few steps away from another crisis.

His Majesty Walker I, King of Apilonia, Highlord Von Karin
Von Karin Fortress, Karin City, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Tuesday 14th August 2012, 0230hrs Local Time (0230hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1130hrs Zulu Time)

Walker had learned pretty quickly that being woken in the middle of the night by his personal steward and informed that the Imperial National Security Council was assembling in the war room in the basement of the Fortress was a sign that something bad was happening. He felt the same cold feeling sweep down his spine at the thought, if they were waking him at this kind of time the chances were that something very bad had happened. He had quickly dressed, as had his fiancé and key advisor Jessica, before making their way through the corridors of the Fortress and down two sets of flights of stairs, separate from each other for security reasons, before entering the expansive and highly advanced war room in the basement that was the nerve centre of the Imperial Monarchy in terms of command and control over the armed forces, a similar headquarters was located at the Ministry of Defence. The gathered senior government officials, intelligence personnel and military officers jumped to their feet at the command of the Chief of the Defence Staff: Admiral of the Fleet Sir Thomas Kittinger. Walker smiled despite the situation and gestured for them all to return to their seats as he took his own at the head of the table.

“Okay people, lay it out for me.”

Sir Sebastian Cross, Director of the Imperial Intelligence Directorate, glanced at his two immediate subordinates; Sir Harry Baker the Director General of the Security Service (MI5) and the Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) who was also known as ‘C’, before responding.

“Just under four hours ago MI6 received intelligence that that was an imminent terror thread on Imperial Soil, we were able to track the threat to a warehouse in the Industrial district,” Cross began but was cut off by the King.

“Which city?”

“Karin, sir.”

“My God,” Walker replied his voice quiet. “Okay, go on.”

“Given the high number of hostiles detected we made the decision not to use Armed Police from the Met, instead we called in a unit from the Special Air Service who raided the warehouse an hour and a half ago,” Cross continued. “When they had secured the area they opened up the vans in which the weapons and explosives were supposed to be in, however they were totally empty, meaning that the hostiles had removed them before we knew they were even there and able to get a UAV into the sky.”

“You are telling me that terrorists have their hands on weapons and explosives and are loose in the Imperial Capital?” Walker said, leaning forward dangerously. “What sort of equipment are we looking at, and do we know any targets?”

“Automatic weapons and Semtex, possibly a few rocket propelled grenades,” Cross replied grimly. “As for the targets, no, the only information we got was the electronic exchange we were able to intercept, and I quote: ‘we will hit them where they think they are safe, where they are prideful and we will punish them for their arrogance’, that is the only part relating to a location.”

“Punish them for their arrogance,” Kittinger commented. “Sounds like someone we’ve pissed off recently.”

“Well we know the Hi No Motons don’t like us,” Walker commented wryly. “But I don’t think they would resort to something like this.”

“We would tend to agree, your Majesty,” Cross nodded. “We are however looking at various people such as the remnants of the Rocky Mountain Rebels, the Western Aussies, the Rhodes Hardliners, probably some of Europe, the Portuguese dictatorship perhaps.”

“That’s just a list of everyone we’ve had anything to do with in the past few years,” Walker replied dryly. “And that simply isn’t good enough, I want to know exactly who is behind this if it is state-sponsored, I want to know who to strike back against if god-forbid the attack goes off on an Imperial target, and it needs to be rock-solid evidence.”

The King turned to his Home Secretary; Jenson Pierce, the Right Honourable Earl of Valdez Cordova, former Secretary of State for Defence, who would be responsible ultimately for trying to avert this attack, primarily through the Security Services and the Metropolitan Police Service.

“I want you to raise the terror alert, post extra guards at all government buildings and remind everyone that they may be a target,” Walker instructed. “In the meantime I want Five and Six to keep working on finding out not only who organised this but what the targets are, John.”

He turned to retired Field Marshal and Earl of Wade Hampton, John T. Anders, who was the current secretary of defence and a former Chief of the Defence Staff.

“Place all commands on increased defensive alert, deploy the Enterprise to the Atlantic and bring the Audacious Carrier Battle Group down at Corpus Christi to increased notice to sail and see about getting a larger task group through the Panama Canal,” Walker continued. “An unhealthy number of those suggestions were in Europe, if this is state sponsored I want the Atlantic Fleet to have the capacity to take on what we need it do, we’ve under prioritised the Atlantic and Europe for far to long, if they any of them are responsible that changes and we strike back.”

He paused and looked around at his staff grimly.

“This is the tipping point people, God Help us All.”

[Terra Reborn]

His Majesty Walker I, King of Apilonia, Highlord Von Karin
M1 Motorway, Karin City-Anchorage, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Tuesday 14th August 2012, 0900hrs Local Time (0900hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1800hrs Zulu Time)

Walker looked out at the beautiful countryside that they were driving through, at the height of summer you could actually see the beauty of the area without it being obscured by snow or other weather. Despite the increased threat of a terrorist attack they still had work to do, and that meant travelling. In either case it was important for the King to show that he wasn’t afraid of any potential attack, especially given that between the heightened terror alert and the news of the raid in the industrial district had resulted in speculation on the IBC and all other news channels as to exactly how serious the threat was. In such an atmosphere the last thing anyone wanted was to make things worse by making it look like it was so serious that the King himself was sequestered. If an attack actually took place then it might be another matter but until such then the King had to show that he was unafraid and that meant sticking to his assigned schedule and given the important of the days engagement it was very important that he kept his schedule. Besides he travelled in a well protected motorcade, what could possibly go wrong?

This particular trip was of the upmost importance. Having completed its commissioning trials the newest capital ship in the Imperial Navy was ready for formal commissioning, and as a result of recent events a speedy deployment to the Atlantic. That ship was the Battleship; HMS Von Grippen, named for the Admiral who had betrayed the Empire in order to save it and although long considered a traitor was now considered a national hero now that the truth was known.

Walker sighed grimly as he watched the rolling countryside flash by. In six days the largest Imperial fleet ever deployed would arrive at the Panama Canal, A little over a day later the fleet would enter the North Atlantic, having passed through the Caribbean, four and a half days later they would arrive at Europe. This was without a doubt an unprecedented deployment by the Imperial Navy and showed that once they found out who was responsible for attacking Imperial Soil. In a few hours a highly secure missive would be transmitted to the Empire of Layarteb, informing them of the deployment through the Panama Canal (as was required). The reason for the deployment would not be immediately disclosed, certainly not unless asked, but if they wanted to know then it was going to be a case of the Layartebian Emperor directly asking Walker what was going on, this kind of operation demanded nothing less than the most secret and top level people to know about it before it all kicked off.

They were about thirty miles outside of Karin City when all hell broke loose. The first sign that something was wrong was the barked warning that came across the earpieces of the Karin Guardsmen, a moment later the front lead car of the convoy exploded in a massive fireball as the rocket propelled grenade struck it square on. This was followed by the next two cars in the motorcade. Between this and the collateral damage the three lanes were almost totally blocked as following cars in the convoy were unable to react quicly enough and added to the pileup. The heavily armoured limousine carrying the King skidded to a halt with the rest of the follow-up cars creating a perimeter around the package, concentrating on the side that the attack seemed to be coming from; specifically the side that was raised as the other side was far to flat and open for an ambush force to hide. The Guardsmen in those vehicles quickly emerged from them and took cover behind their vehicles, drawing their FN Five Seven sidearms and returning fire as the convoy came under automatic weapons fire; the King and his close protection agents remained inside the vehicle as it was the safest place for them.

As the Guardsmen took fire a few of them ran along the line, risking their lives (and in a couple of cases paying with their lives) to get the L90s stored in some of the vehicles out to all of the Guardsmen so that they could effectively return fire. Despite their training and having sufficient weapons the Guardsmen were at a disadvantage and they were going down in an unfortunate number, the vast majority of them were unarmoured after all. Sergeant Weber, head of his immediate close protection detail kept insisting that Walker keep his head down but even he looked concerned as he assessed the situation around them; and it wasn’t good. They had to get the King out of there but the fact remained that between the pile-up in front of them and the various stopped cars and panicked civilians meant that they were hemmed in, as far as Walker was aware there was some talk ramming the armoured limo into the central reservation and hope that it was well protected enough to make it through safely but they were not particularly thrilled with that idea as it was far to great a risk if it got stuck, the only reason that the enemy had stopped firing RPGs was that the limo had managed to stop just outside effective range and the enemy apparently only had so many to spare.

Outside more Guardsmen were down as a few dozen hostiles streamed down the slope onto the other side of the motorway, making use of the stopped cars on that side as cover as they endeavoured to get close enough to the embattled motorcade to pick off the remaining Guardsmen who were still putting up a remarkable resistance given their less then optimal situation.

“We cannot just sit here,” Walker commented. “Those bad guys are getting closer and they have us heavily outnumbered at this point.”

“We’ll have additional personnel on site soon, we set off a panic button as soon as the attack started, besides MI5 will have been tracking us,” Sergeant Weber replied. “Until then you are best off in the vehicle, very little could get in here.”

“Wait,” Walker said suddenly glancing up. “What is that?”

Weber glanced up and looked out the window, his eyes suddenly widened.

“That is a Javelin Anti-Tank missile,” He exclaimed. “Out of the vehicle, quick!”

Walker didn’t need to be told twice and he and his entourage of four close protection Guardsmen scrambled from the Limousine and towards one of the other vehicles to provide them with limited cover, moments later the Javelin missile slammed into the top of the limousine, utterly destroying even that heavily armoured vehicle. Walker glanced at the Sergeant and for the first time in his life saw the man who had been providing his close protection for years look worried, and he could see why, the enemy was advancing and the Guardsmen were running out of ammunition.

“Your Majesty, you know how to use this,” Weber commented, holding out a Five Seven. “You are probably going to need it in a few moments.”

Walker nodded grimly and took the weapon, quickly checking it and flicking the safety off and holding it firmly in his hands. The last time had had to do this had been back in the Rockies last year, and he had hoped that he would never have to do it again. The last of the Guardsmen on the forward cars were downed and the enemy advanced with impunity. Even as he prepared to defend himself Walker didn’t like the implications, these people had the manpower, firepower and the knowledge to attack a Royal Motorcade, not something that everyone could do. It also meant that they had someone on the inside; it was the only way they could know the exact route and time that the motorcade was going to travel along and at what time. Neither was particularly comforting to think about. He sighed and raised his weapon as the enemy continued to advance and opened fire along with his remaining dozen or so Guardsmen. When he recounted later he would estimate that he killed two or three hostiles as they got too close.

They were about to be overrun when a proverbial miracle occurred. The approaching hostiles went down in a hail of lead as a line of soldiers appeared on the ridge that they had just vacated to press their attack. Weber and the remaining Guardsmen wasted no time in ordering a counter-attack whilst Weber stayed within a few meters of the King. Between the new arrivals and the Guardsmen the remaining hostiles were caught in a vice and with first responders arriving on the scene they were in a losing fight and they knew it, most firing until they were killed but others surrendering once they realised it was all over. As the Adrenaline began to leave his system Walker slumped down against the car he had been taking cover against and sat back, listening to the continuing sporadic gunfire, shouted orders and approaching sirens and helicopter blades. He checked the weapon and put it on safe and placed it carefully down onto the ground as his Guardsmen, the new arrivals and the arriving emergency services got on with securing the area.

Walker only glanced up when a shadow fell over him and he found himself looking up at what he quickly gathered, giving the equipment and outfitting.

“We need to get you back to the Fortress, Your Majesty,” The SAS man said, offering a hand to help his Monarch up.

“No, we go on to Anchorage,” Walker replied standing up with the SAS troopers help. “I’ve got a ship to commission.”

“I would try and argue, but somehow I figure that you’ll win,” The SAS man smiled. “Your Guard’s Colonel will have my head of course.”

Walker smiled.

“I’m sure I can talk him down,” Walker commented. “What is your name, Soldier?”

“Captain Andrew Frieze,” he replied. “Of Your Majesty’s Special Air Service.”

“Well then, Captain, shall we be off?”

[Cotland]

Embassy of the Realm of Cotland
Karin City, Empire of Apolonia
140916V AUG 12 (141816Z AUG 12)

Embassy officials in the Cottish Embassy in Apolonia's capital city had only just finished their normal morning meetings and set about with the day's business when the day's schedule was turned upside-down. Local medias suddenly interrupted the normal scheduled programming with breaking news bulletins, reporting on an assassination attempt on King Walker I of Apolonia, somewhere on the road between Karin City and Anchorage. Considering that King Walker was one of Cotland's closest allies in the region, this was something the Cottish naturally took seriously.

While the Cottish Intelligence Service's Chief of Station (the CIS operated in every corner of the world, even among its allies) started tapping into his various sources of information around the city and government, trying to get more information, the Cottish ambassador to Apolonia was located and briefed on the situation. Very little information was available at the moment, including the current status of King Walker. Therefore, the Cottish embassy fell back on its already established protocols and procedures and went on heightened security alert. As far as the Cottish knew, the attack on King Walker could have been motivated by the close ties between Apolonia and Cotland, which had its fair share of enemies in the world.

As far as visitors to the embassy were concerned, the only visible changes in the differing threat posture was that the number of uniformed security officials at the gate and guard stations were increased, and that people had their documents more closely scrutinied before being allowed into the embassy compound.

Within ten minutes of the embassy being alerted to the attack via local media, an urgent diplomatic signal was transmitted from the embassy to the Foreign Ministry in Oslo, alerting them to the situation. Ten minutes after this, the leadership of Cotland - the Chancellor, Foreign Minister and the King of Cotland - would be quietly notified of the attack.


Cottish Forces Apolonia
Fort Greely, Empire of Apolonia
140931V AUG 12 (141831Z AUG 12)

A copy of the signal was transmitted to the Cottish military base at Fort Greely, where a division of Cottish paratroopers deployed to Apolonia to help train and reinforce the Apolonian military was garrisoned. There too, security was increased as Cottish Forces Apolonia went to terror alert Bravo. The Cottish military operated with four levels of terror readiness, with Alfa being the lowest alert. Bravo was heightened for use when a terrorist attack was considered to be possible, but the target was unknown. Charlie was for use when a terrorist attack was considered to be likely, but the target was not yet confirmed, while Delta was the highest level, for use when an attack was considered to be imminent, or an attack had already taken place. At present, Cottish Forces Apolonia quietly increased its readiness, but did nothing else out of the ordinary.

[Terra Reborn]

His Majesty Walker I, King of Apilonia, Highlord Von Karin
HMNB Anchorage, Anchorage City, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Tuesday 14th August 2012, 1200hrs Local Time (1200hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2100hrs Zulu Time)

Mere hours after the attempt on his life the King stood unafraid in the bows of the Imperial Battleship Von Grippen. The entire Naval Base had been in an uproar when they had first arrived, Imperial Marines were hurrying about to secure their positions to ensure that they could defend their King and in general the entire station went on increased alert, as was the rest of the Imperial Armed Forces, their defense condition had been increased just in case this was the start of a conventional attack against the Empire. Walker had seen the fear in the eyes of some of the younger men and women he had passed, but his mere presence seemed to inspire a degree of comfort to them; after all if their King could walk away from an assassination attempt and continue with his duties, they sure as hell could do the same. He hadn’t quite shamed them into realizing this, but he had certainly inspired them and led by example. Given the days ahead, this was probably a very, very good thing indeed.

Walker couldn’t help but smile slightly, he was after all in one of the Empire’s vital hearts. The City of Anchorage, now home to several million people, was awash with skyscrapers and spread for miles from its old heart. Here at HMNB Anchorage he could see the city in all of it’s splendor, especially against the waterline. The city had been the focus of an program to rebuild the nation and it had succeeded in becoming a vital economic and cultural centre and rivaled many much more established super cities. It was also home to a major Imperial Navy Base and was home to the Imperial Home Fleet. Based on a large part of the Kenai Peninsula the base was a sprawling area with ships docked all along the peninsula’s coast with the Cook Inlet, which in some cases had had to be made deeper to accommodate the large ships that frequented the base, not to mention the ships that called it home, not the least of which was the newly commissioned Von Grippen, which Walker had watched enter service a mere hour ago, less than two after his attack.

Walker took at least some comfort from the fact that at least things couldn’t get much worse. Although there would no doubt be more follow up attacks the fact remained that he had not been killed, and as such their impact would not be compounded by a leadership crisis following the death of the King, especially with Crown Prince Arthur out of the country, serving aboard the aircraft carrier Enterprise. In either event it hadn’t happened and he was still okay. At the same time the other senior members of the Royal Family and the senior members of the civil government; The Prime Minister and the Lord High Minister, had also been placed under increased protection in case they were targeted next, in which case they would need all the help they could get. Never the less it was pretty obvious that the vast bulk of the hostile strength had been destroyed in their failed assault on the motorcade, and as such they would almost certainly resort to more traditional terrorist tactics; which of course made them a whole lot harder to stop by the very nature of the way they operated.

In any case the priority was to ensure that there was not a panic, Walker had already been on the IBC News to reassure everyone that he was still okay, news of the motorcades attack had been quick in making it to the media of course, but the Guard had wanted to try and hold off on reporting that he was okay in case of some form of contingency on the part of the hostiles. After an hour Walker had succeeded in arguing his point that the Imperial People needed to know that he was alright and that meant revealing that he had survived the attack; the last thing he wanted was to create a panic by exaggerated reports of his death.

Even as he was grateful for his survival he also new that for good or ill things had changed; the terrorists had not only launched an attack on Imperial Soil but they had attacked him and in the process had killed Imperial Soldiers; that could not be allowed to stand and the population would be crying out for blood in revenge for this attack. Efforts were already under way in an attempt to ascertain who was responsible and once that was done the Empire would strike back. As it happened it was entirely likely that the Von Grippen would be involved; she was being quickly stocked for an emergency transit through the Panama Canal (although she would have to be lightened to be able to fit through the canal) before linking up with the Enterprise for retaliatory options as soon as they were required. Walker sighed, he didn’t like sending troops into a fight, no matter how many times he had done so, but it was obvious that there could be no other response to such an attack on the Empire.

“Walker!”

Walker smiled as he heard his name called, there was only one person who would call him by his Christian name in public and that was his Fiancé and future Queen; Jessica. Sure enough she was moving quickly along the quarterdeck to where he was stood, the Guardsmen knew better than to stop here even if they had needed to and it wasn’t long before she had embraced him in a fierce hug, much to the delight of the news crews and photographers down on the dockside; ever since their engagement had been announced the Imperial Media had been, frankly, ridiculous in their delight; but then it matched the majority of Imperial Citizens so it was the right thing to do. In either case, especially in this situation, Walker had no qualms with such a public display of affection. Jessica had flown down from Karin City aboard a military helicopter as soon as she had heard of the attack, she had originally been intended to accompany the convoy but had been required to stay in Karin to continue arranging for their wedding which was due in the Autumn, she had however strode out of that particular meeting as soon as Peter Cain, the Earl of Anchorage, had stormed into the meeting to inform her of the attack before the two of them had flown down to the city. Needless to say, given the circumstances, that both had been deeply concerned.

Walker could see this concern in her eyes as she looked at him before embracing her again. They might be in a bad situation but at least he could rely on some constants.

Elizabeth Hammond, Field Officer, Imperial Secret Intelligence Service
Personal Apartment, Lisbon, Portugal
The Republic of Portugal, Europe
Tuesday 14th August 2012, 2200hrs Local Time (1300hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2200hrs Zulu Time)

Elizabeth Hammond, who preferred simply Liz, could have been chosen for this particular mission based upon her looks. She had a strong, attractive face, her skin exquisitely soft. Black hair was cut short and nicely framed her face and emphasized her thoughtful green eyes. Likewise her body was attractive; slim with all the right assets in ample and appropriate quantities, and like her face her skin was smooth and soft. It was fairly obvious why any man would be enamored with her, and it was partially this that she used to her advantage and her willingness to do so that made her such an asset to Imperial Intelligence. It wasn’t the only thing however.

As it happened she hadn’t been chosen purely for her attractiveness, she had also been chosen for her smarts. A graduate (with 1st Honours) from the Imperial College at Karin (a prestigious Imperial University), she was also intelligence sharp and possessed an excellent intuition.

All of which made her an excellent choice for the task at hand. As an intelligence officer she lived a dangerous life. She was an Unofficial Cover agent, meaning that the host country knew nothing of her, but at the same time she lacked any sort of cover from the Imperial Embassy here in Lisbon. She was the kind of spy who if captured would most likely be disavowed and face a long jail sentence if not killed out of hand. Never the less such spies were essential for Intelligence gathering as not only could they work without local counterintelligence being able to do anything but they also more often than not had other sources that an Official Cover Spy simply did not have. They could also be employed for different missions as well, the kind that were most famous for their failures and highest successes of course. In any case, it was this danger that Liz enjoyed most about her job.

In this case she was there for the task of a honeytrap; the entrapment of a foreign source by the use of sensual wiles. When she had first been approached for such a mission she had not been sure about it, but came to realize that at the crux of the matter that it was a comparatively small thing to give up for King and Country; besides it wasn’t like it was particularly unenjoyable most of the time. Her target this time was one of the good ones; attractive, smart and good in bed; even if she wasn’t supposed to be seducing him she would probably have been attracted to him anyway. He was a Lieutenant Colonel In the Portuguese Army, specifically Army Intelligence which made him an invaluable source and the best part was that he had no idea that he had been entrapped by an foreign intelligence agent; all the information that she had got from him had been simply through subtle persuasion as part of their relationship.

He was late back tonight, not that she minded as she had been too busy watching the Imperial Broadcasting Corporation 24-hour news channel following an attack on the Monarch. Following a meeting with her case officer in the morning she had been informed that Portugal was considered one of the potential sources of the attack, and as such she was to endeavour to discover if this was the case; a relatively senior officer in Portuguese military intelligence would be one hell of a boon. She glanced up as the door opened and she flicked off the television it was time she went to work; her source was much more divulgatory after she had reduced him to a tired, sweating but eternally sexually satisfied individual. She stood up as he approached in full uniform and dropped her night clothes to the floor, leaving her totally naked, and beckoned to him suggestively.

[Terra Reborn]

Elizabeth Hammond, Field Officer, Imperial Secret Intelligence Service
Personal Apartment, Lisbon, Portugal
The Republic of Portugal, Europe
Tuesday 14th August 2012, 2345hrs Local Time (1445hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2345hrs Zulu Time)

Liz lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling of her apartment as her partner rolled off of her and onto his back, panting as she was herself. She had to admit that her job did have some perks, as this was not exactly a hardship all things considered. They had been going at it for nearly two hours and she figured that he was probably in a mood to divulge at least some information, but she wasn’t about to push it. Either way she knew how best to get information out of a man, she had done this several times before albeit never on this kind of importance, but most men were the same. She turned on her side and pressed herself up against him, lifting her leg and placing it over his. The amount of skin contact alone would be arousing to her companion and would distract him whilst she extracted the information she needed, and given how he was fatigued from their coupling she expected to get a fair amount of information out of him.

“So, a satisfactory end to a busy day?” Liz asked in her fluent Portuguese.

“Indeed,” Lieutenant Colonel Paublo Etza replied with a fond smile as he looked down at his lover. “And it was very busy, we’ve got a big project on.”

“An important one?” Liz questioned.

“Fairly, although I don’t agree with it,” Etza replied with a sigh. “Both in reasoning and execution.”

“What do you mean?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you,” Etza commented, and Liz prepared to drop the matter if she had to, but he went on. “What the hell, we’ve been coordinating the actions of a black operations group deep in another country, they’re tasked with launching a number of retaliatory strikes.”

“Retaliations for what?” Liz frowned.

“A few months ago, during the chaos after the fall of the Republic before the military stepped in, we lost control of our Gibraltar holdings to the Apilonians,” Etza replied. “The Military Council had decided that it was time we paid them back.”

Liz kept a carefully neutral expression; she didn’t want her surprise or outrage at this news to show. She knew that this alone, the word of one Military Intelligence Officer would not be enough to prove it, but it went a good deal of the way towards proving that these people were responsible for the attack against the Empire. It would allow the MoD to better direct their assets into the area, would allow for more specialized preparations to be made and would also make her job much more interesting in the long run. In any event she knew that this would almost certainly be her biggest discover during her assignment here and would do wonders for her careers. At the same time she wanted to know more about Etza’s own involvement. Although she knew better than to get emotionally attached to her subjects she had to admit that Etza had developed a soft spot in her heart and she wanted to believe that he didn’t support it, he had hinted as much.

“But you don’t like it?” She questioned carefully.

“No, I don’t,” Etza admitted. “Although I am a military officer I do not like the idea of a military government, they rarely end well, the Republic was hardly perfect but… And even then, this is not the way to go about it, all this will do his hurt civilians, that isn’t right.”

Liz frowned. Although she had never specifically said that her nationality was Apilonian her accent alone (in either English or Portuguese) would point in that general direction. It was unlikely that he would have told her all this if he hadn’t already known, so the question was could he be turned; a mole inside Portuguese Military Intelligence, what a boon that would be.

“No, its not right,” Liz agreed. “My people shouldn’t be punished for a military junta’s hurt feelings.”

“Your people, the Apilonians, right?” Etza said, leaning up on his elbow.

“You guessed?”

“I assumed. You Imperials have a very specific vocabulary that all of your new people pick up quickly.” Etza replied with a slight smile. “Hell, I suppose it could be worse, you could be Imperial Intelligence.”

Etza’s broad smile faded as her face remained totally expressionless, the closest thing to panic he figured he would see in her normally controlled features as he realized that he had hit that particular pin on the head. His eyes widened as he realized the deepness of the trouble that he was in and watched as her gaze turned sad at the betrayal on his face; this told him something; she’d allowed herself to become emotionally involved. But then as he thought about it…

So had he.

“You are, aren’t you?” He questioned quietly. “Which service?”

“The SIS,” Liz replied, knowing he would understand as he would almost certainly have done research on Imperial Intelligence given his units tasking.

“His Majesty’s Secret Service,” Etza commented ironically. “So, what do we do now?”

He lashed out with such speed and strength that she never saw it coming and soon found herself pinned to the covers of the bed, his fingers flexing around her throat as she looked up at him, managing not to cry as she tried to struggle against his overpowering strength.

“I’ve been caught in a honey trap, there is no way that the Army’ll take me back if they find out,” Etza said keeping just enough grip to hold her down. “But if I kill you, they’ll never find out.”

He tightened his grip on her throat, pinning the rest of her down with his own body as he did so, looking as if he was about to do exactly what he had just suggested. Liz didn’t want to die and the pain was mounting as she struggled to breath. Almost as quickly as he had started however, Etza relented and let go of her throat, instead catching her lips in a passionate kiss which she responded to with vigor. Even as they began to make love, and she knew that this time it was truly that rather than just sex, even as she felt him enter her, she knew that she had turned him and as she moaned with pleasure she allowed herself a small smile that she was alive.

Sir Sebastian Cross, Head of Imperial Intelligence
Cabinet Offices, Karin City, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Wednesday 15th August 2012, 0500hrs Local Time (0500hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1400hrs Zulu Time)

Sir Sebastian Cross looked at the information he had been handed grimly. It seemed that they had finally found the first scrap of evidence on who had ordered the attacks, including an attack on the undergound service in Karin City during the previous days rush hour; thankfully the Security Service had managed to intercept the package and only five civilians had been killed, plus four members of special branch. In any case MI5 was closing in on the cells so the prospects looked good. With the information at his disposal however they could begin considering retaliation and he knew that nothing would please the King more than to at least know anything about who was responsible, even if they needed more evidence for a rock-solid casus-belli.

It seemed that a covert agent in Portugal who had been seducing a local military intelligence officer had managed to find out that the Portuguese were responsible, and more importantly that not all of Portugal agreed (even if the vast bulk of the military did). In addition she had also been able to turn the officer in question into an asset and would be trying to get solid evidence over the next few days. Cross sighed, she had until the fleet arrived to find that evidence otherwise the Empire would be put into a difficult situation. But at least now they knew something, better than nothing after all. Never the less this agent had done incredibly well, at great personal risk, and he intended to see that she was rewarded. For the moment however she still had work to do, for the Good of the Empire. Cross glanced up as the heads of MI5 and MI6 both arrived, it was time to start spreading this information around and getting the ball rolling, so to speak.

[Cotland]

O 150700V AUG 12
FROM CHIEF OF STATION, APOLONIA
TO DIRECTOR, COTTISH INTELLIGENCE SERVICE
H E M M E L I G
RELEASABLE TO LAYARTEB AS OCTOBER SECRET
BT
SIC ETR/XYR
REF/A/MY Z 140922V AUG 12/ETTERRETNINGSRAPPORT APOLONIA/015/AUG 12//
REF/B/MY Z 141644V AUG 12/ETTERRETNINGSRAPPORT APOLONIA/016/AUG 12//
SUBJECT: INTELLIGENCE BRIEF AND ANALYSIS/APOLONIA/15 AUG 12/001//
IN LIGHT OF THE RECENT EVENTS IN APOLONIA, OUTLINED IN REFERENCES A AND B, CHIEF OF STATION (COS) APOLONIA HAS SEEN THE NEED TO ISSUE AN ADDITIONAL INTELLIGENCE UPDATE. IN THE LAST 24 HOURS, THERE HAVE BEEN TWO CONFIRMED TERRORIST ATTACKS UPON THE EMPIRE OF APOLONIA.
(K/OC) CHAIN OF EVENTS
1. THE FIRST ATTACK, AS OUTLINED IN REF A, WAS AN ATTEMPT UPON THE LIFE OF KING WALKER I OF APOLONIA TAKING PLACE AT APPROXIMATELY 140900V AUG 12. BASED ON HUMINT AND OPEN SOURCE INTELLIGENCE, THE KING'S MOTORCADE WAS ATTACKED BY UNKNOWN ASSAILANTS WHILE IN TRANSIT FROM KARIN CITY, THE APOLONIAN CAPITAL, TO ANCHORAGE. ATTACKERS USING ANTI-TANK GUIDED WEAPONRY, ROCKET-PROPELLED GRENADES AND MILITARY-GRADE WEAPONRY DESTROYED SEVERAL VEHICLES IN THE KINGS MOTORCADE AND KILLED NINE MEMBERS OF THE KING'S PERSONAL PROTECTION DETAIL AND THIRTEEN CIVILIANS BEFORE BEING SUBDUED AND KILLED BY THE KING'S PERSONAL PROTECTION DETAIL AND APOLONIAN SECURITY FORCES. KING WALKER ESCAPED ASSASSINATION UNHARMED.
2. THE SECOND ATTACK ON APOLONIA, AS OUTLINED IN REF B, TOOK PLACE AT 141615V AUG 12. HITHERTO UNIDENTIFIED ASSAILANTS CARRIED OUT AN ATTACK AT A KARIN CITY UNDERGROUND STATION WHICH WAS ATTEMPTED AVERTED BY APOLONIAN SECURITY FORCES. THE ATTACK, WHICH ESCALATED TO A FIREFIGHT BETWEEN ATTACKERS AND SECURITY FORCES, LEFT FIVE APOLONIAN CIVILIANS, FOUR SECURITY FORCES PERSONELL AND ALL ATTACKERS DEAD AND SEVERAL CIVILIANS AND SECURITY FORCES PERSONELL WOUNDED. NO COTTISH NATIONALS WERE INJURED IN THE ATTACK.
(H/OS) ANALYSIS
1. CIS SOURCES WITHIN THE GOVERNMENT OF APOLONIA (GOA) REVEAL THAT THE GOA HAVE YET TO POSITIVELY IDENTIFY THE ATTACKERS, THOUGH OPEN SOURCES SPECULATE IN THE ATTACKERS BEING ANYTHING FROM HOMEGROWN TERRORISTS UNHAPPY WITH THE RETURN OF THE MONARCHY TO FOREIGN INTERFERENCE DISGRUNTLED WITH RECENT APOLONIAN EXPANSION.
2. COS APOLONIA BELIEVES THAT, TAKING IN ACCOUNT THE MILITARY-GRADE WEAPONRY AND EQUIPMENT USED BY THE ASSAILANTS IN BOTH ATTACKS, A FOREIGN POWER IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE RECENT EVENTS IN APOLONIA. IN THE PAST YEAR, APOLONIA HAVE GREATLY EXPANDED ITS OVERSEAS TERRITORIES AND TERRITORIAL HOLDINGS, AND EXPANDED THEIR AMBITIONS BEYOND THE PACIFIC RIM AND NORTH AMERICAN CONTINENT. BASED ON THE FACTUAL EVIDENCES PRESENT, THE ATTACKERS MUST BE BACKED BY A FOREIGN POWER OFFENDED BY APOLONIAN EXPANSION WHO POSSESS THE MEANS OF INSERTING OPERATIVES INSIDE THE APOLONIAN HOMELAND, WITH SUFFICIENT FINANCES TO FUND THE SMUGGLING OF OR PURCHASE ON THE BLACK MARKET OF MILITARY-GRADE WEAPONRY.
3. BASED ON RECENT EVENTS, COS APOLONIA BELIEVES THE ASSAILANTS TO BE EITHER THE EMPIRE OF HI NO MOTO, WHO HAVE CARRIED OUT ATTACKS UPON APOLONIA IN THE PAST, OR REPUBLIC OF PORTUGAL, WHICH WAS VERY VOCAL IN OPPOSITION TO APOLONIA DURING THE APOLONIAN ESTABLISHMENT IN THE MEDITERRANEAN AREA OF OPERATIONS.
4. IF COS APOLONIA'S SUSPICIONS ARE CORRECT IN THE FIRST INSTANCE (HI NO MOTO), THIS CAN HAVE A SERIOUS EFFECT ON THE BALANCE OF POWER IN THE PACIFIC AREA OF OPERATIONS. THE GOA WILL DEMAND RETRIBUTION. WITH BOTH APOLONIA AND HI NO MOTO HAVING GREATLY EXPANDED THEIR RESPECTIVE MILITARIES IN RECENT YEARS, A CONFLICT HAVE THE MEANS OF TURNING THE PACIFIC OCEAN INTO A BATTLEGROUND UNSEEN IN RECENT YEARS. A CONFLICT BETWEEN APOLONIA AND HI NO MOTO WILL UNDOUBTEDLY LEAD TO DISRUPTION OF TRADE AND TOURISM, AND COTTISH INTERESTS ARE NOT SERVED BY APOLONIA LOSING A CONFLICT. ADDITIONALLY, COTLAND ENJOYS A LONG AND GOOD COMMERCIAL, DIPLOMATIC AND MILITARY RELATIONSHIP WITH APOLONIA. AS A RESULT, COS APOLONIA RECOMMENDS THAT THE GOVERNMENT OF COTLAND (GOC) SUPPORT APOLONIA IN THE EVENT OF HOSTILITIES BETWEEN APOLONIA AND HI NO MOTO.
4. IF COS APOLONIA'S SUSPICIONS ARE CORRECT IN THE SECOND INSTANCE (PORTUGAL), THIS MEANS THAT THE ENTRANCE TO THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA, A VITAL SEALANE AND ARENA OF COMMERCE FOR COTLAND WILL BE THREATENED BY WAR. THIS WOULD NOT BE THE FIRST TIME WAR THREATENS ACCESS TO THE MEDITERRANEAN, AS THE PORTUGESE HAVE ATTEMPTED TO BLOCK COTTISH ACCESS TO THE MEDITERRANEAN IN THE PAST. A CONFLICT SO RELATIVELY CLOSE TO THE COTTISH HOMELAND WOULD ALSO HAVE NEGATIVE CONSEQUENCES ON SHIPPING TO AND FROM THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE, INCLUDING THE NEW AFRICAN REPUBLIC AND THE EMPIRE OF LAYARTEB'S SOUTH AMERICAN TERRITORIES, AS WELL AS OUR OWN PACIFIC AND INDIAN OCEAN TERRITORIES. AS A RESULT, COS APOLONIA ASSESS THAT IT IS NOT IN THE INTEREST OF THE GOC TO SEE APOLONIA ENGAGED IN A DRAWN-OUT, LONG-TERM CONFLICT WITH PORTUGAL. IF PORTUGAL IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ATTACKS, COS APOLONIA RECOMMENDS THAT COTLAND OFFER MILITARY ASSISTANCE TO THE GOA IN ORDER TO REMOVE THE THREAT THE PORTUGESE NAVY AND AIR FORCE POSES TO COTTISH AND ALLIED SHIPPING IN THE AREA, AND SUPPORT THE GOA IN PUNISHING PORTUGAL.
5. THIS CONCLUDES COS APOLONIA INTELLIGENCE BRIEF AND ANALYSIS.
BT

[Terra Reborn]

Elizabeth Hammond, Field Officer, Imperial Secret Intelligence Service
Portuguese Military Headquarters, Lisbon, Portugal
The Republic of Portugal, Europe
Wednesday 15th August 2012, 2200hrs Local Time (1300hrs Imperial Capital Time, 220hrs Zulu Time)

Liz had been surprised that Etza had managed to get himself female officers uniform, at least until he pointed out that she wasn’t the only one capable of seducing someone, a point she took with a wry smile before the two of them had made love once again. It had been a boon however as they both knew that the only way they were going to get the information they needed was by stealing it and they would obviously require a way to get Liz into the military headquarters. She had pulled on the officers uniform, that of a Captain in intelligence, and quickly checked herself in the mirror and was satisfied with what she saw, and by the look on his face could tell that Etza agreed as well, although she suspected not in the same way that she did. In any event they had been ready and set out from her apartment to the Military Headquarters, and it had been surprisingly easy to get into the building.

Etza had been easily passed through with his own pass, obviously Liz didn’t have one so she had feigned that she had lost it, a brief argument between the two of them and the security guard followed by Etza vouching for her had ultimately allowed her to enter the building, much to the gleefulness of the two of them. They had made their way through the quiet corridors of the complex and soon found some of the information they needed which they promptly shoved into the two bags they had with them. It was only when they reached the intelligence headquarters, shut down for the night as military intelligence didn’t maintain a full watch as the Portuguese national intelligence did, and were able to begin to grab the kind of information that would give the Empire the casus belli it needed to launch its retaliation.

The sudden attempts to open the door, which they had locked on their way in, caused both of them to jump and the continued attempts made it clear that someone was trying to get In; the called challenges indicated that it was one of the security guards trying to check it was clear. Liz and Etza glanced at each other, they knew that even though they were both in the uniform of intelligence officers it would be difficult to explain why they were taking such inflammatory evidence out of the room, and so they had to distract the guard when he finally managed to unlock the door. Thinking quickly Etza had cleared an area of desk area and hiked up her skirt, Etza seeing where she was going had unbuckled his belt and moved between her legs. When the guard entered the room, he was enlisted, he had been surprised to find two officers going at it, Etza still thrusting at Liz, and had quickly retreated and hadn’t noticed the two big bags they had. The two of them had smirked at each other before getting on with their work.

They had no further problems, although they did pass the same guard on the way out but again he was so distracted that he looked away quickly from them as he hurried on. Once they were outside they were effectively home free, all they had to do now was get Liz out of the country and the evidence back to the Empire, and she had no intention of leaving Etza behind although it would be rather difficult to convince the ISIS to allow him to extract with her.

But she had no intention of taking no for an answer.

Admiral of the Fleet Sir Thomas Kittinger, GCSS, KCAE, BAI NA, Chief of the Defence Staff
Von Karin Fortress, Karin City, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Wednesday 15th August 2012, 1400hrs Local Time (1400hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2300hrs Zulu Time)

Admiral of the Fleet Sir Thomas Kittinger, Chief of the Defence Staff of the Apilonaian Empire, looked around grimly at the war room, this was his first time as the most senior officer in the military during a major military crisis. In the hours that had passed since the attack the previous afternoon two further attacks had taken place, the first had been a bomb set off on the campus of the Imperial College, killing two dozen students and faculty, whilst the second had thankfully been stopped by the Met before it could release sarin nerve gas on the underground. A further attack had been preempted by a full scale raid by the Metropolitan Police, it was hoped that the attacks were over but no one was taking any chances. However with three of the four follow-up attacks foiled or minimized which would allow the Imperial government to turn its attention towards its response; obviously there had to be some sort of retaliation and it would come down to the Imperial Military to launch that retaliation against what was looking increasingly to be Portugal, although the agent on the ground was trying to get more information before the Fleet arrived at Europe by the 26th August.

For only the third time in recent years the full Imperial War Council had been gathered to discuss not only this assault on the Empire but also the unprecedented Imperial response that was pending. The War Council not only consisted of the senior military, intelligence and civil personnel but also the senior nobles, specifically the Archdukes of all of the territories, as well as other selected personnel. The War Council was only gathered when there was a matter of the upmost importance; all the other conflicts the Empire had engaged in had not been particularly complicated; but this kind of far-side-of-the-world operation would require substantial support from all parts of the Empire, even if it had just been the Apilonian heartland that had been directly attacked; all Imperial Citizens took it personally. The Archdukes were here primarily to represent their people, most having already discussed the matter with their respective advisory and legislative councils within their own territories.

The room jumped to their feet as the door opened and the King strode into the room. Walker smiled grimly and waved them back into their seats as he settled into his own chair at the head of the table. Looking around at them he could see the same concern in their faces, before turning to Kittinger.

“Sir Thomas, please begin your briefing,” Walker said formally.

“Thank you, sir,” Kittinger said glancing across at the Earl of Wade Hampton (and Minister of Defence, John T Anders), before beginning. “Thirty minutes ago we received word that our source, codename swallow, in Portugal has recovered the intelligence proof we need, and is moving to extract by Astute-Class submarine , escorted by an SBS team, who will ferry her to Gibraltar where she can fly back to the Empire with the evidence we need.”

“So it’s Portugal then,” Walker sighed. “I assume we have deployment plans?”

“Yes sir, we’ve got two main plans, dubbed Raptor One and Raptor Two,” Kittinger nodded. “Raptor One is the restrained version, we use our assets based out of Gibraltar and the Enterprise Battlegroup to hit military targets within Portugal, effectively devastating their military ability, however it does not specifically stop them from launching future terror attacks. Raptor Two is the full balls-out response; we carry out Raptor One before following it up with a full invasion by the Imperial Marines which is then supported by Imperial Army units until the territory is captured.”

“Opinions,” Walker said simply.

“Out assets in Portugal indicates that although much of the military supports the Junta, obviously, but the population is simply going along with it because the military has indicated it is willing to use force to protect its power,” Sir Sebastian Cross commented. “If we were to launch an invasion there is a fairly good chance that we’ll be seen as liberators not conquers.”

“Europe might not particularly like it, Gibraltar was one thing but invading an entire nation…” Dame Rebecca O’Brien, the Foreign Secretary, commented. “I will admit however that given the circumstances we can probably rely on our allies to help, and that any hostiles wouldn’t have a leg to stand on from a ethical point of view, we are merely defending ourselves.”

The continued debate was cut off by the arrival of a junior officer from the status room with a note for the Admiral of the Fleet who looked down at it in surprise. Walker waited patiently.

“Swallow has just called in, apparently she’s been looking at the intelligence and it seems that the Portuguese Navy is planning an assault on Gibraltar to destroy our squadron there to allow for a full assault, its due to go off in the near future.” Kittinger said grimly before turning fully to his King. “Your Majesty, a full scale naval engagement by Gibraltar would cause untold disruption to the trading in the straits, especially if ships are destroyed in the area, and if the enemy catch our ships in port we might lose the advantage, even with a Battlecruiser there.”

Walker sighed.

“Admiral Grisham,” He said, turning to the First Sear Lord, Admiral Dame Victoria Grisham. “Your thoughts.”

“I agree with Sir Thomas,” She nodded. “I think we should try and pre-empt this, if we sally the Gibraltar Squadron against the enemy attack force we’ll have the initiative and should be able to move the engagement away from the straits.”

“The intelligence indicates that the enemy attack force will consist of four destroyers and eight frigates, this constitutes sixty percent of the Portuguese surface fleet,” Kittinger commented. “We’ve only got a Battlecruiser, two destroyers and two frigates, the Squadron is still not at full strength. The Saga Class is a formidable design, but she isn’t invulnerable.”

“I agree, it’ll be a tightly fought thing and if the enemy is smart they’ll concentrate their fire on the Battlecruiser,” Grisham replied, nodding her assent. “However, Captain Standford is one of our best ship commanders, if anyone can pull this off she can, I recommend that we give her free reign to take pre-emptive actions against the enenmy, to ensure this is all legal I would also prefer if we can get a declaration of war through as quickly as possible, before we attack if possible.”

“That’s do-able,” Archduke Von Seattle, Keiran Harvy the Archduke of the American North-West Territories, commented glancing around at his fellow Archdukes. “With the support of all us Archdukes and Highlords we should be able to get more than enough support in-Council to get a declaration out, not that we’ll need it given the uproar.”

“I agree,” Walker confirmed. “I want you to call for a Joint Session of Council as quickly as possible, within a few hours if we can get them back. In the meantime, Captain Standard is to be given a free reign. Sir Thomas, you are to begin moving all assets into position required for Raptor Two. All Imperial Military units in the European Theatre are to assume a war-footing, as are all other assets that may be called up. Lets get to work people, and may god help us all.”

[Cotland]

O 160600Z AUG 12
FM HM GOVERNMENT, REALM OF COTLAND
TO HM GOVERNMENT, EMPIRE OF APOLONIA
INFO COMMANDER, COTTISH ATLANTIC FLEET
COMMANDER, COTTISH PACIFIC FLEET
COMMANDER, COTTISH MEDITERRANEAN FLEET
COMMANDER, COTTISH FORCES APOLONIA
BT
K O N F I D E N S I E L T
RELEASABLE TO APOLONIA AS CONFIDENTIAL
SIC GEC/OWO
SUBJ: OFFER OF SUPPORT

Dear sir,

His Majesty's Government is shocked by recent events in Apolonia, and is horrified that an attempt was made on the life of HM King Walker I of Apolonia. At this time, His Majesty's Government wish to offer its deepest sympathies to the families of those killed and wounded by these heinous terrorist attacks, and to express its sincere hopes that the perpetrators of the attacks are punished.

Considering the type of weaponry used by the attackers and their modus operandi, His Majesty's Government believes that a foreign power was responsible for the attacks upon Apolonia. Such actions cannot be allowed to go unpunished. Taking this into account, and considering the strong and deep friendship between the Realm of Cotland and the Empire of Apolonia, His Majesty's Government hereby offers the Apolonian Government the full backing of His Majesty's Government into the investigation of the crimes and the punishment of the criminals responsible.

If indeed a foreign power is responsible for the attacks, His Majesty's Government offers the Government of Apolonia the backing of the full might of the Realm of Cotland, including diplomatic, intelligence and military means. Should the Apolonian Government require or desire Cottish support, His Majesty's Government will provide the support needed without delay.

His Majesty's Government awaits the response from the Apolonian Government.
BT

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

HMS Odin (H.30)
36°55'34.52"N, 14°56'40.74"W
160615Z AUG 12

His Majesty's Ship Odin, lead ship of the ODIN-class of heavy fleet attack aircraft carriers, was getting long in the tooth now, having been in commission since 1984, but she still remained one of the most renowned and powerful warships currently afloat. Built in cooperation with the Empire of Layarteb, the Odin had seen action in almost all conflicts Cotland had endured since 1987, and was one of the most decorated warships in the Atlantic Fleet.

Like all warships, she never truly slept. Her stations were manned at all times. On the bridge, the Officer of the Deck controlled the evolutions of the ship, the helmsman manned his rudder, and the navigator maintained control of the ship's course and speed. Further below, the maintenance crews were working on keeping the carrier's 124 aircraft in pristine condition, the cooks were already hard at work preparing breakfast for the 6,100 hands manning the ship, and the radiomen were keenly monitoring the fleet broadcasts issuing orders from the Command Authority to the forces at sea. The Queen's Watch Quarter were looking forward to being relieved by the King's Watch Quarter in just a short hour, by which time they'd get some much desired breakfast and rack time.

Ten minutes earlier, a RS.8A Scarecrow AWACS aircraft and a pair of J.23F Einherjar multirole fighters had routinely taken off from the carrier to relieve the night patrol and continue the air patrol around the battlegroup, kicking off the day's air operations.

On the command bridge, the Officer of the Deck had just been given an Immediate signal from Atlantic Fleet Command, ordering the ODIN battle group, dubbed "Operasjonsgruppe 11.2" in Cottish naval parlance, to steam for a position 100 nautical miles off Lisbon and prepare for possible combat operations. At present, the ODIN group was 195 nautical miles away from the position, steaming towards the Strait of Gibraltar for transit into the Mediterranean Sea for joint exercises with the Tverrmark battlegroup ("Operasjonsgruppe 12.1") which was deployed to the eastern Mediterranean Sea. After consulting the electronic charts to verify the position, the Officer of the Deck signed on the orders and instructed the Yeoman to wake the Commanding Officer and the Battlegroup Commander, and show them the signal. Another Yeoman was instructed to inform the escort screen, consisting of the cruiser HMS Løve which was holding station two nautical miles off the carrier's port bow, the three ALFABET-class air-defence destroyers forming the inner destroyer screen ten nautical miles in front of the carrier, and the five BANDITT-class general-purpose destroyers and two FRIDTJOF-class destroyer escorts forming the outer screen, to alter course and screen the carrier as she altered course.

As the Battlegroup Commander, a Rear Admiral, was informed, the carrier turned to port and increased speed to 28 knots. Some members of the crew speculated in why they were altering course this early in the morning, but the questions were left unanswered.In a few hours, as Operasjonsgruppe 11.2 came closer to the Portugese coast, the crew would be informed and readiness posture increased.

At the same time, the aircraft carriers Tverrmark in the eastern Mediterranean and Kurba off Ireland was directed to Gibraltar and the northern Portugese coast, respectively.

Something was definately up.

[Terra Reborn]

Official Diplomatic Communiqué (Secure)
Office of His Majesty The King

To: His Majesty’s Government, Realm of Cotland.
From: His Majesty’s Foreig Office, Empire of Apilonia

Sir,

His Majesty wishes me to thank His Majesty’s Government for their sympathies following the attack on the King’s Motorcade, and will be sure to pass on said condolences to those killed and wounded in both that attack and the follow up attacks that the Empire has been subjected to over the past few days. His Majesty has also asked me to assure you that the perpetrators of this attack will indeed be punished for their actions. Indeed the following information should be considered classified at the highest level until such time as they are revealed to the general public.

The Imperial Council is expected to formally vote for a declaration of war against the Republic of Portugal in the next few hours. Our intelligence assets in-country have been able to find evidence that the Republic is responsible for the attacks against the Empire, this evidence is clear and irrefutable and as such, and given the nature of the attacks, the Empire will strike back at the soonest possible moment, indeed on His Majesty’s orders the Enterprise Battlegroup, supported by the Dreadnaught Von Grippen and its escorts, have been dispatched via Panama and will arrive in the European theater by the morning of the 26th August, upon arriving they will engage in offensive operations in preparation for an invasion to overthrow the military junta in Portugal and liberate the population.

HM Government would also like to inform the Realm that a Portuguese task force has been detected heading for Gibraltar, in order to avoid a disruption to the channel the Imperial Gibraltar Squadron is sallying forth to engage them, however any cottish Merchant forces should be aware of this threat and are welcome at Gibraltar should the enemy reach the straits. In terms of the Realms offer of support the Empire would certainly appreciate diplomatic support for this action, not to mention any intelligence sources you may have. His Majesty is also deeply appreciative of your offer of military assistance, however under the circumstances he feels that the Empire should take the lead in this retaliation. Of course due to the logistical difficulties of operating on the far side of the world, we would appreciate any logistical support that you can offer, most notably the Empire would request that in the inevitable events that casualties are taken that we be permitted to MEDEVAC to facilities in the Realm if at all possible due to the shorter flight time, and will keep you informed of operational status in case that should change.

His Majesty does not doubt your desire and ability to aid us, however the Imperial Population are understandably outraged by this campaign and now that the Empire is capable of this kind of Operation it is best that we do so. Of course this is an unprecedented use of the Imperial Military in the history of the Second Empire, it is a big step up from other recent conflicts, and the Realm is more than welcome to have military forces in the exclusion zone we intend to establish around Portuguese Territorial Waters as well as observers should it wish to advise and critique to allow for lessons to be learned from any mistakes that occur during this operation, which we hope to be as few as possible.

Again, His Majesty is appreciative of your offer of assistance and accepts in the areas already detailed.

Yours Sincerely
The Right Honourable Dame Rebecca O’Brien, His Majesty’s Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

Captain (Senior Grade) Dame Alice Standford KSS, DSO, DSC, IN
H.M.S Defiant, Off the South West Coast of Portugal, International Waters
Atlantic Ocean
Thursday 16th August 2012, 0900hrs Local Time (0000hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0900hrs Zulu Time)

The Defiant had been at action stations for thirty minutes when they gained radar contact with the Portuguese vessels as south and prepared to engage. The Gibraltar Squadron had put to see twenty minutes after word of the declaration of war against Portugal by the Empire, hell they had put to see before the press conference had even finished as the evidence and justification for this had been displayed. Like the admiralty Captain Standford understand why they wanted to keep a fight out of the straits of Gibraltar and was more than happy to make that happen, even if it deprived her of any sort of speedy assistance from the fighters based out of IAF Gibraltar. Never the less Standford had fought battles like this before and if the Empire needed her to do it again then she would do her duty for King and Country. As she pulled her anti-flash gear on once more she prepared to launch the attack that would constitute the first shots of the official conflict, the terrorist attacks non-withstanding. She felt the responsibility on her shoulder and was determined to do her best.

She considered the force at her command. Aside from her own Saga-Class Battlecruiser she also had a pair of Ardent-Class Destroyers; Zealous and Zodiak, as well as a pair of Firefly-Class frigates; Wakeful and Wistful. Between them they were facing no less than four destroyers and eight frigates, not the best odds in the worlds, all things considered. Never the less she knew that her own ship would balance the odds fairly well. She knew that an engagement like this was going to be a very short and brutal one, and she wanted to get the first shots in, the last thing she wanted was to be put on the defensive from the get go.

“All ships, Open Fire.”

The squadron opened fire as their commander directed. Each of the two destroyers fired six AMESM missiles in quick succession, these were joined promptly after by twelve such missiles from the Battlecruiser itself and six each from the two frigates (constituting the smaller vessels full ASuW missile complement, providing three dozen missiles as part of the opening salvo. As the missiles began to fly the two frigates turned to their secondary duty now that they had spent their anti-shipping armament, specifically they were to strengthen the defensive fire for the Defiant, that was the priority for them now, whereas the two destroyers still had another six missiles apiece to fire. Sure enough it wasn’t long before the enemy returned fire, realizing that if they were going to cause any damage to the Imperials they were going to have to do it before the incoming missiles hit them. Between the twelve enemy vessels nearly sixty harpoon missiles came flying back at the Imperial squadron, met half-way by a flight of surface to air missiles from across the Imperial squadron which thinned out the enemy missiles before they even got close, a repeated such salvo thinned them out even more leaving just sixteen missiles left to target the Imperial ships as they sped in on their final assault vector.

Standford held onto the bracing bar as the missiles sped towards her command. Point defense opened up and began to swat enemy missiles from the sky, this combined with electronic warfare served to neutralize a few more but it wasn’t enough and the squadron began to take hits. The Wistful took a direct hit and exploded without preamble as the enemy missile penetrated through to the munitions store without much resistance, the shockwave rocked even the Defiant as other missiles stormed down on the squadron, Zodiac taking a hit in the bows, even the Defiant took a glancing hit as the missile skipped over the flight deck and exploded in the sea alongside, subjecting the Battlecruiser to a very close explosion that tested her to her limits. Standford knew that they had got lucky, and knew that her various ships crews skills had been vitally important, and she sincerely hoped that the enemy formation had shot their wad.

Turning her attention now to the enemy she watched as the much faster and more advanced missiles used by the Empire stormed down on the enemy. Of course some were shot down but due to the skilful targeting at least one missile got through to each enemy ship, sending six frigates falling out of formation with the other two on fire and in danager. A hostile destroyer exploded in a fashion similar to that of the Wistful and a second destroyer was listing heavily to port if the UAV image was to trusted. Thinking quicky she ordered the Zodiac out of formation to conduct repairs whilst the rest of the squadron was relatily undamaged so they continued forward and fired off the remaining eighteen missiles they could muster. A much less concentrated an uneven salvo shot back from the enemy, indicating that they were firing whatever they had left and after the fire had settled the Zealous had taken a hit but was still operational and a single enemy destroyer had escaped and was trying desperately to turn away.

By this point they were well within guns range and Standford was more than willing to engage in a gun duel, after all in every engagement she had fought she had ended up going down to guns if she had to, and she had already fired millions of pounds worth of missiles at the enemy and wanted to save the Navy some money. Knowing she would probably only get a single salvo in she ordered her ship hard to port and displayed her entire broadside to the enemy and opened fire. The forward 203mm duel cannon produced the largest bang as it shot its two rounds across the gap, followed immediately after by the pair of duel 130mm cannons, sending a total of six rounds across the distance. A large explosion in the distance reported the destruction of the last enemy vessel left operational. They would need to approach and secure the damaged but still floating enemy vessels and ascertain if they were recoverable. If they were then Standford and the men and women of every ship in the squadron could expect substantial prize money if the enemy vessels were willing to surrender rather than be stubborn and go down with their ships.

“Message from Zealous,” Lieutenant Webster, the Defiant’s communications officer reported. “Captain Flynn reports that his damage is slight and is moving to pick-up survivors from Wistful, all other vessels are still floating and will keep an eye out for remaining enemy vessels whilst we close with the enemy and find out what they are going to do.”

“Good, lets just hope we can take them intact, I don’t exactly need the prize money after Oregon, but I’m not about to say no,” Standford grinned broadly. “Send message to the Admiralty, inform them that the enemy assault force has been destroyed and that we will return to Gibraltar to re-arm before going on search-and-destroy for remaining enemy asset to clear the way for the rest of the fleet. Pass my compliments onto Von Grippen’scommanding officer, tell him that I’ll see about leaving a destroyer or something for his ship to cut its very sexy looking teeth on.”

Standford paused with a grin.

“Let’s be about it people.”

[Terra Reborn]

Captain (Senior Grade) Dame Alice Standford KSS, DSO, DSC, IN
H.M.N.S Gibraltar, Imperial Overseas Territory of Gibraltar,
Imperial European Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Thursday 16th August 2012, 1700hrs Local Time (0800hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1700hrs Zulu Time)

It was early evening when the victorious survivors of the Imperial Gibraltar Squadron sailed back into their home port, to substantial applause. It seemed that news of their exploits had been relayed by the Imperial Headquarters at Devil’s Tower to the population, many of whom had lined the dockside to welcome the Defiant and its comrades back into port, although there was a tinge of sadness for the loss of Wistful as well as the casualties on the other ships, most seriously the fairly badly damaged Zodiac. After being informed of this welcome they should expect Standford had given the order for the crew of the ships that were comparatively undamaged to man the rails in order to let her well-deserving crew bask in the adulation of the people that had fought and sacrificed to save from invasion by the enemy. She herself stood outside the bridge of her ship and smiled as her helm officer brought the ship smartly back into the harbour and alongside the dock that she normally inhabited. At the same time the more damaged vessels head for the docks better for rendering repairs.

Standford was the first down the gangway, as was tradition, but she had instructed that the enlisted sailors were to depart before the officers, they had earned it as much as any commissioned officer had. Gibraltar’s population had increased by several thousand since it had first been brought into the Empire as many of the families of those stationed out of it had elected to join their loved onces in this far-flung station of Empire. This had been achieved by construction of new apartment blocks and housing, all making the best possible use of the comparatively small amount of space they had available to them on the Rock. All of this meant of course that Gibraltar Station was a bustling, vibrant community and from a purely Military point of view was a fine example of all three services (plus the Imperial Marines) working together, both in harmony and in close quarters. Standford, the stations senior officer, had been eager to ensure that kind of atmosphere was present, if an attack ever came it was going to be fast and brutal and would require a cohesive response from all Imperial forces stationed here, and she for one intended to ensure that happened.

Despite all that had happened the atmosphere on the dockside was good, the Regimental Band of the Gibraltar Regiment was playing stirring patriotic music, and no doubt in a rare occasion for the Army, the Navy’s own music, Heart of Oak.

The Royal Gibraltar Regiment (which consisted of one Regiment of full time soldiers recruited from Gibraltar itself, two battalions of full time soldiers that had been stationed from across the Empire, and three further battalions of territorial army troops (again from Gibraltar). This gave the Regiment a full time strength of just under three thousand personnel, with a part-time contingent bringing the Regiments numbers up to normal levels. This was a similar set-up that was used in other areas were a full-sized full-time Regiment could not be raised. As many battalions that could be raised from the population as possible were, with soldiers from elsewhere making up the difference to half strength, with the other half of the regimental order of battle made up by territorial army soldiers, part-timers which allowed them to still work and contribute to the economy whilst likewise contributing to the territories defence. Typically territorial army soldiers in this kind of situation tended to be much closer to regular soldiers than normal territorial army troops found in the heartlands of the Empire. The Regiment was based out of Devil’s Tower Camp, but primarily due to the mainly home-grown nature of the Regiment the camp only accommodated the two thousand or so troops that were stationed in Gibraltar from the rest of the Empire, said soldiers would rotate every few years.

Standford was so caught up in the emotions of the atmosphere that she didn’t hear Captain (Junior Grade) John Flynn until he clipped his boots together as he stood to attention and cleared his throat meaningfully. She turned in time to return the salute, they were in public after all, before smiling and looking him over, he didn’t look particularly worse for wear, but then the damage to Zealous had been mercifully light, all things considered. They glanced around at the scenes, with the crowds (both the civilians and the navy (and other services) personnel heading out towards the street to stop giving the Royal Naval Police a coronary, and it looked like there was going to be quite a party in Gibraltar tonight. The two senior surviving Captains (Zodiac’s commanding officer had been a Commander as was more typical for destroyers in His Majesty’s Service, with cruisers and above usually rating a full Captain (of the Junior Grade) whilst capital ships usually gained themselves a Captain Senior Grade (otherwise known as a Captain of the List), glanced at each other and decided without speaking that they wouldn’t impose on the celebrations. So they decided to take a walk up the Rock of Gibraltar itself.

Although it wasn’t a particularly hard climb they weren’t in any particular hurry and walked at a leisurely pace, listening to the sounds of celebration below gradually get fainter and fainter until they were at the old castle on the top of the Rock and climbed up onto the tower of homage underneath the Imperial Flag that flew proudly over the Rock. Standing this high up they could see for miles around, up into Spain, out across the Gibraltar Straits and into the Mediterranean. Down below in the Straits, thanks in no small part to the efforts of the Gibraltar Squadron, the various civilian vessels from across the world were travelling back and forth without interruptions.

“Well, at least we know it was worth something,” Flynn commented as he leant his forearms on the stonework of the battlements, Standford joined him. “The world carries on.”

“Yea,” Standford sighed. “It cost us enough.”

“You couldn’t have done anything else you know,” Flynn said pointedly, looking across at her. “We faced over twice our numbers, we were going to take casualties, it’s a show of your tactics that we made it out at all.”

“You know I don’t like losing people,” Standford said quietly. “Every time I promise myself that I’ll do better next time.”

“It’s not about doing better, Jess,” Flynn replied firmly. “It’s about the enemy we have to fight.”

He paused.

“As I said, we faced a superior enemy and still came out in good stead, even if we lost two ships, few could have done better, and you are one of the best officers I’ve had the pleasure of serving with” He continued without a trace of sycophancy. “Don’t drag yourself down because of this again, you did good work.”

Standford nodded and considered this as she looked out at the vista that surrounded the Rock. They had only been here for a few months but she was already firmly understanding her responsibilities out here, these people were now Imperial Citizens and she had a duty to protect them, and they were a people worth protecting. She had lost people but Flynn was right, there was very little that she could have done differently.

“How many ships did we capture in the end?” Standford questioned.

“Two destroyers and four frigates,” Flynn replied succinctly. “Two of those frigates aren’t going to be snapped up by the navy, and I reckon one of those destroyers won’t either, but we should have a destroyer and two frigates worth of Prize Money.”

Standford nodded.

“I’d say we’re looking at about three-point-five billion pounds overall, we’ll get ten percent of that so about three-fifty-million to the squadron, with each surviving ship getting about fifty-eight million to share out” Standford commented. “Which means I’ll get about twenty million as squadron commander, and you’ll get at least fourteen.”

“Sure you want to stay in the Navy?” Flynn grinned.

“The Navy’s my life, I wouldn’t know what to do with so much money as a civilian,” Standford laughed. “I would imagine the same is true with you.”

“Probably,” Flynn admitted. “Have we heard anything from Atlantic Fleet yet?”

“They acknowledged receipt of my preliminary after action report.” Standford replied. “They’ll be contacting us tomorrow I reckon, until then we are to remain vigilant.”

“As always,” Flynn nodded.

[Terra Reborn]

Captain (Senior Grade) Dame Alice Standford KSS, DSO, DSC, IN
The Convent, Imperial Overseas Territory of Gibraltar
Imperial European Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Friday 17th August 2012, 2000hrs Local Time (1100hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2000hrs Zulu Time)

It wasn’t the first time that Captain Standford had dined with the Imperial Governor of Gibraltar; retired Vice Admiral Sir Jack Dalton, but it was the first time since the engagement with the Portuguese naval forces. The Governor had extended the invitation to supper the previous evening but too much work had been needed to be done, she had however been able to make it to supper on this Friday night; whilst the majority of the rest of her command was enjoying themselves on a Friday night. Personally Standford didn’t mind, Sir Jack was an experienced naval officer who had served with the Imperial Navy since its re-establishment and had previously served in the various naval forces that had been present in the Alaskan area before retiring to take up this important position, not only that he was also a charismatic individual and was one whom you could spend hours talking to about any matter whether it be professional or personnel and in her time in Gibraltar she had relied on his council in a number of situations. The supper actually consisted of a few light snacks and a mug of coffee but it was nice enough.

As would be expected, the Governor had been most interested in hearing about the previous days engagement. Standford was more than happy to indulge him and ran him through what had been a comparatively short battle all things considered but was able to report it in substantial detail and answered all questions put to her by the retired naval officer. He had also been incredibly helpful in continuing the start that Flynn had made in convincing her that she could not have done anything more to save more of her people given the circumstances.

“Have you received anything from Atlantic Fleet?” Sir Jack questioned.

“Yes, they reviewed my after action report and are pleased with my actions, apparently the King has something planned, god only knows what that is, probably a bar for my DSO or something,” Standford replied. “I’ve also been ordered to take the Defiant, out on a patrol in the morning, although I personally doubt that the enemy is going to come out of port anytime soon, and I’m loath to take my ship too close to shore for fear of missile batteries.”

“An understandable concern,” Sir Jack nodded his agreement. “Although if you could sink the rest of the enemy fleet it could make the job for the Carrier Group a whole lot easier.”

“Perhaps,” Standford nodded. “Although I have my concerns, the enemy has to know that our ships are either damaged or under armed, and if their intelligence is worth a damn they’ll probably have figured out we are awfully light on replacement missiles, I think they’ll attack again.”

“Not with ships surely, you think they’ll launch an air assault against Gibraltar?” Sir Jack asked.

“I reckon they have to try,” Standford sighed. “They know that we know that they are responsible, and that we are capable of kicking their asses, they probably reckon that if they can give us a bloody lip here that we’ll back off.”

“Fat chance,” Sir Jack scoffed.

“Perhaps, but its obvious from their decision to attack our civilian population that they really don’t understand our people,” Standford commented. “You and me know that if they managed to take Gibraltar it would be over our dead bodies, and the Empire would never let that pass, they reckon they can kick us our of Europe with our tails between our legs.”

“I see your point,” Sir Jack nodded. “I say, were your orders to take Defiant or to mount a patrol?”

“To mount a patrol, although the wording strongly suggested that it be Defiant that is the patrol element,” Standford replied.

“Well, in that case send a pair of tin cans,” Sir Jack recommended. “If there is an attack here your decision to keep the Defiant will be vindicated, if not I’ll back you up and even then your recent escapades should prevent any fallout on you.”

“Very well,” Standford replied without hesitation. “I’ll send Captain Flynn, its a good chance to get him some experience.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sir Jack smiled.

It was at this point that a young petty officer was permitted into the room, he saluted the Governor sharply before turning to his commanding officer.

“Ma’am, urgent signal from the Admiralty,”

“Pass it here Yeoman.” Standford instructed holding out here hand. “Hold there a moment.”

Standford looked down at the piece of paper and sighed.

“Have Defiant be ready for sail in thirty minutes, I’ll be down shortly,” Standford instructed and waited until the Yeoman departed before turning back to Sir Jack. “It seems that HMS Astute got jumped by enemy frigate, how in gods name they managed to find the exact place it surfaced to recover the SBS team is beyond me, but they manged to score a close-abroad gunny hit that caused damage to the props so she’s making more noise than two whales getting it on, the Astute managed to get a pair of torpedoes off and sunk the enemy, but three further vessels, the rest of the enemy surface fleet, are steaming south to try and intercept the sub before it gets back here, I think they’ve figured out what is aboard the sub.”

“What missiles have you got left?”

“Midgardsorms, and I am sure as hell not wasting those on a couple of frigates,” Standford replied. “The only reason the enemy would have kept them out of fleet engagement was that they didn’t have missiles to take on enemy ships, older model anti-submarine frigates most likely, or at least will only have a few of them. I’ll close to guns range if I can, but I suspect that as soon as they see us they’ll run for it and without missiles I’ll have a hell of a time chasing them down before they get back under enemy air cover.”

“Where do you expect to hit them?”

“Based on the location, speed and heading of the Astute, and her pursuers according to the Admiralty, I would say it would be only a few hours steam out from Gibraltar,” Standford commented. “Well, I’d best be going, by your leave, sir?”

“Of course, Captain,” Sir Jack nodded, standing up to shake her hand. “Good Luck, Dame Alice.”

Alice saluted sharply before leaving the room and within a few moments she was out on the street and making her way along towards the naval base, watching with amusement as Imperial Marines and members of the Naval police began to make their way through the clubs and bars calling for all Defiant crewmen to return to the ship, much to the amusement and glee of the other naval (and other services) personnel who weren’t having to deploy, even if it was quickly followed up by calls of good luck. Never the less everyone was complying with the calls, even if Standford personally doubted that a few of them were going to be much use to her, the Divisional Officers would no doubt work it out, but Standford would make sure that no charges were filed, after all no one had expected to have to sail on such short-notice.

Even as she strode up the gangway and onto her command Standford began having doubts. In the modern age of missiles it was generally fool-hardy to go out looking for the enemy with the expressed intent of getting into a gun duel, it was the same reason that Battleships had been given missile launchers alongside their guns, and indeed the reason that the new Hood-Class Battleships in service with the Imperial Navy were only armed with a single 355mm tri-gun mount, the rest of her armament was purely missiles. The fact that she was doing it on a hunch, even if she suspected her hunch was correct, made it even worse; she knew full well how potent her ships defences were, but if she was wrong and each enemy ship had, say, six missiles aboard and fired them all at the same time, well the Defiant would be in trouble. As she stepped up onto her bridge however she had composed herself and was appropriately confident and composed. The bridge crew looked expectantly at her, unlike the majority of the ships company they knew what they were facing. She stepped up to her command chair and pulled down a microphone, but didn’t activate it.

“Are all personnel aboard?”

“Yes Ma’am, ships company is aboard short a few inebriates, no ship-stoppers, but they’re pissed to be missing it,” Commander William Cook, her executive officer replied.

“So be it,” Standford nodded. “Take us out.”

She watched impassivly as her executive officer got about the task of get the ship out of the port and heading for the straight. It was only once they were clear of the Rock and beginning their turn to skirt along the strait and out into the Atlantic that she nodded for a shipwide broadcast and spoke to her crew.

“This is the Captain speaking, I have no doubt that many of you are wondering what is going on, and for my part I am sorry for pulling you all away from your well-deserved relaxation, however we’ve got a job to do,” Standford said grimly. “A few hours ago the HMS Astute moved in to extract an SBS team from Portugal, due to a quirk of fate a Portuguese frigate was waiting for them and shortly after the team was recovered the Astute took fire, she was able to destroy the enemy craft and was able to submerge successfully but it making more noise than an aircraft carrier and is baing chased down by three enemy frigates, our job is to support the Astuteand fend off the three remaining craft.”

Standford paused.

“As you will no doubt have realised we have yet to take on new anti-ship missiles due to the shortage of munitions at Gibraltar, so if the enemy forces a fight we are going to have to close to gun range for this job, obviously if the enemy has their own missiles it could get dicy for us, so we’ll be walking the fire on this one, and I’ll be relying on you all to do your jobs regardless of the danger,” Standford said, knowing full well that her crew would follow her anywhere. “We’ve got a difficult fight ahead of us people, but we are the Imperial Navy, we can do it, so I say this; Stand to your stations and your shipmates, we’ll get through this. Good Luck everyone.”

[Terra Reborn]

Captain (Senior Grade) Dame Alice Standford KSS, DSO, DSC, IN
H.M.S Defiant, Outbound from Gibraltar
Eastern Atlantic near Portugal, International Waters
Friday 17th August 2012, 2300hrs Local Time (1400hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2300hrs Zulu Time)

“Three enemy vessels spotted by fire scout, bearing three-two-zero, range sixty nautical miles,” Lieutenant Commander Steven Walker, the Principle Warfare Officer, reported. “Enemy vessels appear to be chasing something and are not emitting active radar, heavy sonar is likely.”

“By god, we might just be able to do this,” Standford said softly. “Keep our own radar passive, Helm vector us in based on the Fire Scout, do not go to active radar until we enter range, Guns you’ve got you work cut out for you.”

Thirty-thousand meters, the effective range of the 203mm guns aboard the Defiant, spitting distance in the modern world but that was the range they would be fighting at. The enemy, if they had missiles, would be able to open fire at least twice that range, if not more, but at least with the Fire Scout the Defiant’s warfare team would hopefully have enough warning to intercept them with missiles, or if it came down to it CIWS and countermeasures, but this was not a situation that Standford wanted to find herself in if she could avoid it. They wouldn’t be able to get too close to the enemy, with three ships only an idiot would not have at least one on surface watch, but it was better than three so Standford would take every advantage that she had and going in quiet with radar on passive only was the best way to go about that. It was going to be a nerve racking time but it had to be done. Standford wished she had done more to insist that BuWeps send out more missiles so that she could have reloaded her ships stores before she departed; now she was paying for that and the Bureaus oversight than they would actually need them.

The fact that assets from Home Fleet, the strategic reserve fleet of the Imperial Navy capable of deploying across the globe, would be arriving fairly soon was no comfort if the Defiant got blown apart from underneath her. The Defiant was just about to enter weapons range when they were finally detected by enemy radar and within a few moments her worst feared were confirmed as the Fire Scout watched as missiles were launched from the enemy frigates as they turned their attention to the Imperial ship that had appeared to intercept them. Two missiles, Harpoons by the looks of them, were launched from each of the enemy vessels and began to blast across the distance. Wyvern surface to air missiles were launched in response and the two missiles met roughly fifteen thousand meters short of Defiant. The warfare crew watched carefully as three of the missiles made it through, evading the SAMs with skilful manoeuvring, and continued to retaliate with Evolved Sea Sparrows which picked the remaining missiles out of the sky. The enemy quickly realised that this had not worked and launched of another salvo that was double the size, slightly staggered.

“Come port forty-five degrees,” Standford ordered, in-doing so presenting her broadside (and all three of her ships gun emplacements) to the enemy. “PWO, target the nearest enemy vessel and fire at will.”

Within a few moments the ship had completed its turn, just enough to present its guns whilst still getting closer, and the ship opened up with her main gun armament with a resounding, and pleasing, sound of naval guns opening up. Even as the gunnery team continued to target the enemy frigate other parts of the warfare crew were getting about the task of dealing with the enemy missiles, thinning out the twelve missile salvo by seven, leaving the final five to be dealt with by the last-ditch close in weapons system, counter measures and electronic jamming. Four of the missiles went down but the final missile struck the Defiant in the bows. A quick damage control check reported that it had not done any damage that would prevent the ship from operating and an explosion on the horizon heralded the destruction of the first enemy frigate, allowing the guns to start targeting the next, especially given that the enemy couldn’t return fire for at least another ten minutes given the range. The second frigate went up a few minutes later; the enemy’s decision to turn and engage rather than fleeing (and then underestimate the counter-air defences of the Battlecruiser) was costing them dearly.

It was as they were dealing with the final enemy frigate, and just beginning to come under scattered five inch fire that all hell broke loose as the radar picked up a disturbing fast moving contact towards them, causing Lt. Commander Walker to shout out urgently.

“Green Four-Zero, Green Four-Zero, Torpedo, Torpedo, Torpedo!”

“Two contacts, three.”

“Four!”

“Hard to Starboard, full ahead,” Standford ordered, cutting through the chatter with her sharp tone. “Go active on the Sonar, they know where we are now, stand-by to fire on the submarine.”

The Defiant began to turn as sharply as was possible with such a vessel, launching what countermeasures they had to distract the enemy torpedoes assuming that they were tracking anything rather than simply being fired on a straight line. The turn threw off one of the missiles and the countermeasures took care of the other two but just as a five inch shell from the enemy hit aft on the hangerdeck the final torpedo struck amidships, rocking the Battlecruiser even as it fired another salvo which took out the final enemy frigate. A few seconds later the Sonar got a good fix on the enemy submarine and fired off a pair of anti-submarine missiles to deal with the enemy submarine before it could hit the damaged Defiant.

“Away the damage control parties, I want a damage assessment as soon as possible,” Standford ordered as she watched the two missiles enter the water a few hundred yards away. “Come to one-three-five at best possible speed, rudder amidships.”

It was a few moments before anything came in from the damage control teams working to repair the damage.

“We’ve got a hull breach on the port beam amidships, not fatal but we’re operating at less than optimum power, we’re also listing to port” Lieutenant Commander Peter Bering reported over the intership. “We can make it back to Gibraltar but we’re going to need substantial structural repairs, we’re going to be out of action for a while.”

“Damn,” Standford sighed, barely even able to smile as an underwater explosion confirmed the destruction of the enemy submarine, without turning she spoke. “Yeoman!”

“Yes Ma’am?”

“Make for Admiralty from Defiant. Have defeated three enemy frigates and single submarine but have taken heavy damage by Torpedo Hit, returning to Gibraltar.” Standford instructed grimly. “Full Damage report to follow.”

[Terra Reborn]

Captain (Senior Grade) Dame Alice Standford KSS, DSO, DSC, IN
H.M.N.B Gibraltar, Imperial Overseas Territory of Gibraltar
Imperial European Territories, Apilonian Empire
Sunday 19th August 2012, 1500hrs Local Time (0600hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1500hrs Local Time)

Given the amount of repairs needing to be done Captain Standford had decided to remove her presence from her ship and allow both the ships own damage control team and the repair crews based out of the naval base, and instead was spending her time in her little-used office within the base headquarters. As the commanding officer of the squadron she was also de facto senior officer on-station as the base didn’t have a commanding officer of its own at this point, and as such she was duel-hatted into this role, much to her constant annoyance as she realised she was doing the job of two for the wage of one, of course she didn’t need the money but it was the principle that mattered and damnit she didn’t like it. Perhaps after this entire crisis the Navy would see fit to increase the size of the entire operation out of Gibraltar based not only on the implications of what had happened but also the increased Imperial interest in the area that would most likely occur after Portugal was liberated from its military government and annexed into the Empire until it could be re-stabilised and given a choice.

It had taken hours to get back to the Gibraltar following the battle, and due to the damage they had taken they had been unable to stop for survivors, one of the surviving frigates had been sent out to go and do a search but only a few dozen survivors were still alive when it arrived. Frankly however Standford couldn’t care less, they had died because she hadn’t picked them up, but the reason that she had been unable to stay was because it had been them who had damaged the Defiant substantially enough to need to return back to port just in case there were complications. As far as she was concerned, and Atlantic Fleet agreed with her, they had dug their own graves when they had committed an act of war against the Empire and not expected the Empire to strike back. She was also gratified that she had lost comparatively few people, given the damage, even if she was kicking herself for not looking out properly for any submarines in the area before it was too late, but was at least glad that her crew had spotted them soon enough to be able to take evasive action, otherwise all four would have hit and they certainly couldn’t have survived four separate torpedo strikes.

The fact remained that the Defiant was going to be out of action for a while, they had been out here for three months and already her ship was out of commission for doubtless a fairly long time. No doubt her responsibilities as Senior Officer, Gibraltar Station were going to take precedence now that her ship was in yard hands, and that was assuming she wasn’t reassigned. Without the loss of her ship she wouldn’t face a court-martial, and no one could say that she hadn’t done her best to ensure victory so it was unlikely she would face charges, even if there would be questions into the loss of a vessel under her command and the damage done to the Defiant. However, nothing was substantial enough to relieve her of command, and she doubted that anything would ever come of it, she hadn’t done anything wrong and Atlantic Fleet was happy with her performance, they just had to go through the motions, just in case. Even as she thought about it she knew where she had gone wrong, she had allowed her arrogance to convince her that she needed only the Defiant rather than taking Wakeful and Zealous along with, she could have had the frigate search out for submarines and had the destroyer help in anti-missile coverage, maybe they wouldn’t have taken that missile hit either.

Standford leant back in her chair and sighed, it was no good thinking about what she should have done, the fact remained that she had done what she had thought was right and had managed to complete her assigned mission. And god knew that had been screwed from the start.

The sudden appearance of the submarine, in just the right position to destroy the most substantial Imperial asset in the Mediterranean, had seemed like one stretch too far for Standford and on the way back she had started to put the pieces together, and there was only one possible explanation; they had been set up. Upon the arrival of HMS Astute safely into Gibraltar she had ordered the arrest of the Portuguese officer who had been extracted by the Special Boat Service Team alongside the ISIS agent who Standford knew only by her codename; Swallow. It was the only way to justify how that frigate had been able to jump the Astute when it surfaced to recover the SBS team, which meant that it had all been intended to destroy the evidence of the attacks back home, no doubt where the Portuguese officer had ‘accidently’ fallen in the water had supposed to be some sort of move to get out of the boat before the frigate attacked. The attack on the Defiant had no doubt been a back-up plan to not only sink the most powerful Imperial Vessel in the area but it would also allow the three chasing frigates to destroy the Astute even with their own officer aboard. Of course all of this had been thwarted by the failure of the attacks on both Astute and Defiant, thankfully.

Swallow of course was distraught, angry and felt betrayed and when she had realised the common sense behind Standford’s suspicions she had to be physically restrained from attacking the captured officer who would be handed over to ISIS once he was taken back to Apilonia for questioning. Of course the young agent’s career wasn’t totally screwed as technically she hadn’t been turned, rather the officer had managed to pretend that he was defecting and wanted to be extracted. No doubt Swallow would be reassigned to a non-undercover job for a while but her career wasn’t totally torpedoed. It was not becoming obvious that the Portuguese had been doing everything they could do to destroy as much of the Imperial presence on Gibraltar as was physically possible, apparently to try and convince the Empire that invading them wasn’t worth it. This hadn’t worked the further losses that had been taken in order to prevent the enemy from attacking Gibraltar and interfering with the ridiculous amount of travel in the straights; thankfully Standford had managed to keep both of the battles outside of the main shipping lanes. In either case their attempt had failed, this was backed up by the fact that there had been no further assault on Gibraltar by the enemy.

This meant that the Portuguese were now totally on the defensive and with the amount of firepower and ground troops that the Empire intended to bring, and with the bubbling civil unrest just waiting to throw-out their military rulers, it would only be a matter of time before the Portuguese junta fell to either, or both, of the threats facing them.

Standford glanced up as there was a knock on her open door, she found herself looking at an unknown man in a smart suit.

“Alice Standford?”

“I prefer Captain,” Standford replied dryly. “Can I help you?”

“Captain Standford, I’m Thomas Reed, I’m a senior civil serveant working in the King’s Office,” The man introduced himself, and Standford felt her eyes rocket skywards. “The King has been watching your actions out here, and your career as a whole, and had determined that your actions here have been in the best interests of the Empire and are a credit to yourself. As a result he has made the decision to confer upon you an honour that very few receive. The official announcement will be made in a few days, but, well, here you go...”

He passed over a formal looking document, she opened it with trembling fingers, she knew exactly what this was and knew that only a few things were ever found upon them. They were Letters Patent. She read through them quickly.

“Congratulations, Viscountess Standford,” Reed said formally. “I’ll be available to answer any questions you may have and to discuss a number of matters, but I’ll give you some time to absorb it, so to speak.”

“Thank you, Mister Reed,” Standford said leaning back in her chair.

Her, a Viscountess, a member of the peerage, she could scarcely believe it herself. If someone had told her even a year ago that she would now be part of the aristocracy she would never have believed them. Although it was fairly obvious she also knew that it was a high honour to be granted this especially given her youth and comparatively low rank. The Empire had maintained a tradition of granting titles upon its military officers who distinguished themselves in direct and unflinching service to the Empire and the Crown. In this case her defence of Gibraltar had no doubt caught the attention of His Majesty, and he no doubt wanted to make clear his support for her actions by this great honour. It would do wonders for her career. In addition her wealth would allow her to do good with her new title, the nobility system of the Empire was unusual; all nobles were responsible for the state of their land, but generally the day-to-day actions were carried out by local councils, and in Standford’s case this would be essential due to her military career. She glanced up again as she heard another knock on the door, this time it was a familiar man in Naval uniform.

“What’s an official from the King’s Office doing here?” Flynn questioned sitting down in one of the seats opposite.

Standford held up the letters patent and handed them over. Flynn took them with a frown before reading them, he got a few sentences through, and the general gist of what it was, with surprise and stared at his friend.

“He’s making you a Peer?” Flynn said, his surprise obvious.

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Standford replied with a broad smile. “I must admit that I was incredibly surprised.”

“I presume you’ll be designating a regent for when you are on-duty?” Flynn questioned. “Or is this another attempt by fate to get you out of the Navy.”

“If it were it sure as hell isn’t going work,” Standford grinned. “So what did you come in here for anyway?”

“I just heard from our friends from ISIS, our prisoner has confessed to the plan, looks like you were right,” Flynn informed her, much to her relief. “At least it’s over now.”

“No, my friend,” Standford said sadly. “It’s only just beginning.”

[Cotland]

HMS U.553 (Klasse 501 Attack Submarine)
Eastern Atlantic near Portugal, International Waters
192330Z AUG 12

"Attack team, stand to!"

A muffled klaxon sounded throughout the Cottish nuclear-powered submarine, rousing the off-duty watchkeepers and transforming the quiet, deadly beast of the depths into a devestating weapon of war. Within two minutes, all compartments and stations reported ready.

Standing in the centre of the Tactical Central, the Commanding Officer of His Majesty's Submarine U.533 looked over the various teams readying themselves for the upcoming action. On his right, the weapons technicians were manning their respective consoles and terminals, allocating weapons to the contacts forwarded from the sonar consoles on the CO's left. Behind him, the navigators were continuously updating the submarine's position manually, constantly plotting manually in the charts to give a backup should the electronic systems and inertial navigation system fail or give false readings. They were also plotting the positions of the targets relative to the submarine, and keeping track of the depth to the ocean floor below. Ahead of the CO, in the front of the Central, the two helmsmen sat, manouvering the submarine through the water. In the middle of Central, standing around the central command table, the CO stood and kept overview and control of the situation.

At present, HMS U.533 was lurking at 80 metres, patrolling at a mere 4 knots inside her designated patrol box, just enough to maintain a neutral bouyancy in the water without having to engage the relatively noisy hovering system. U.533 was one of four Cottish attack submarines assigned to monitor and report on the situation off Portugal, being deployed along a picket line consisting of four designated patrol boxes stretching from Peniche in the north down to the Cape Saint Vincent and east towards Gibraltar, with each submarine having an equally large box in length, with width extending from 12 to 60 nautical miles off the Portugese coast. Their orders were to keep track of all shipping in the area and to take out any Portugese warships that presented themselves.

Inside the Cottish submarine that patrolled the box off Lisbon, the atmosphere was quiet but pressured as word was whispered among the crew about the reason why they were at battle stations. Within a few minutes, the Executive Officer's voice came over the 1MC.

"Attention, this is the XO. We have a formation consisting of two destroyers and one frigate fifteen nautical miles off our port bow. They have been identifed as Portugese warships. It is the Skipper's intention to close with and sink the vessels. Be prepared for weapons release and evasive manouvers. Further updates will follow. Out."

Within ten minutes, U.533 had increased to ten knots, the fastest the CO dared to sail without risking cavitation and compromising his position. After sailing at ten knots for fifteen minutes, the U.533 had closed the gap to a mere 12 nautical miles off, greatly aided by the enemy ships sailing on a collision course. Deciding he was close enough, the CO ordered the submarine to periscope depth - 19 metres - and ordered the search photonics mast raised along with the ESM mast. After a quick 12-second all-round look to make sure there wasn't anything else on the surface that the sonar crews hadn't discovered, the mast focused on the enemy formation.

While 12 nautical miles was a good distance, the 15x zoom of the mast was sufficient to get a visual on the enemy ships and identify them positively as Portugese warships. The CO could make out the features of two Francisco de Almeida class destroyers and one Vasco da Gama class frigate, and immediately designated them targets 76, 77 and 78. At the same time, the ESM operator called out a warning.

"New ESM contact, bearing 106, strength 72 in high-sense, classified Lynx helicopter!"

"Down all masts, come to 50 metres, stand on ten degrees down angle!" The CO immediately ordered. At once, the mast was retracted as the helmsmen angled the bowplanes down so the submarine dove towards safe depth, standing on a ten degree angle down on the bow. The ordered depth was reached quickly, and the submarine levelled off.

"Weaps, assign one IDAS to the enemy Lynx." The CO ordered as the sub reached safe depth.

"Assign one IDAS to the enemy Lynx, aye." The weapons technician replied, assigning one of the four IDAS anti-aircraft missiles quad-packed and loaded into Number 5 torpedo tube to take out the Lynx on order.

"Very well. Attention in Central. My target assignments are as follows. Target 77, classified as Almeida, one AMESM missile and one CM7A2 torpedo. Target 78, classified as Dias, one AMESM missile and one CM7A2 torpedo. Target 76, classified Corte-Real, one CM7A2 torpedo."

The stations acknowledged the orders and started assigning weapons to the respective targets as the sonarmen constantly updated the sonar plots.

"Captain, targets assigned as ordered. Recommend firing sequence torpedo salvo 78, 76, 77, followed five minutes later by missile salvo 79, 80. Recommend taking out enemy Lynx after firing off missiles." The Tactical Officer reported two minutes later.

"Very good, make it so." The CO ordered. "Reload the expended tubes with torpedoes." He turned to the steering console. "Helm, stand by to execute evasive manouvers. Come to nineteen meters, smartly."

Slowly and methodically, the submarine rose to periscope depth again.

"Target verification, raise scope! Raise ESM!"

The photonics and ESM masts rose just above the water once again, and identified the enemy ships now a mere nine nautical miles away.

"Targets verified, down scope!" The CO ordered. "Enemy targets in green twenty, speed fourteen knots. Open outer doors. Final target verification, up scope!"

"Open outer doors, aye." A few seconds later, the same man replied again, "Outer doors indicated open."

"All salvos ready to fire."

"Very good." The CO said, taking a deep breath as he issued the next set of orders while scanning the image from the photonics mast. "Shoot salvo 78! Shoot salvo 76! Shoot salvo 77!"

"Fire salvo 78! Fire salvo 76! Fire salvo 77!" The Weapons technician replied, pressing the fire button three times.

One deck down, the three CM7A2 heavyweight torpedoes inside Number 1, 3 and 4 torpedo tubes started swimming out of the torpedo tubes, leaving the Cottish submarine quietly and effectively, with the only thing still connecting them to the submarine being a thin fibre-optic wire that was used to relay target information and let the weapons technicians in the Central continue to control the torpedoes as they swam towards the enemy ships at a leisurely and undetectable 25 knots.

"Salvos 78, 76 and 77 fired and left tubes! Fish are running straight and normal."

"Very good! Down all masts."

Five minutes later, the torpedoes had travelled two nautical miles, and U.533 was still undetected by the Portugese warships. It was time to change that.

"Shoot salvo 79, shoot salvo 80! Shoot IDAS!"

Two AMESM-Charlie anti-ship missiles left Number 2 and Number 6 torpedo tubes, but unlike the torpedoes, these rose to the surface, broke the surface and immediately kicked in the burn, streaking towards the targets a mere eight nautical miles away. The missiles immediately went active and scanned the waters ahead of them for images matching those they had been programmed to attack. Finding them immediately, the missiles altered course slightly and went terminal immediately, homing on the enemy ships and locking on. At the same time, a single IDAS missile followed the AMESMs, but unlike the AMESMs which were completely autonomous by now, the IDAS was guided by a weapons technician in the Central via a thin fibre-optic wire trailing behind it, heading straight for the Portugese Lynx six nautical miles off the submarine. Streaking at Mach 3, the Lynx crew barely had time to register that there were enemy missiles heading for their motherships before the IDAS connected and detonated, taking out the Lynx and killing its crew.

As the AMESMs were fired, the three torpedoes altered course to intercept the enemy warships and were accelerated to terminal speed, 80 knots, which dramatically cut down the range of the torpedoes and warned the enemy sonar operators that there were incoming torpedoes. It didn't really matter though, since the targets were a mere seven nautical miles away.

Up on the surface, the Portugese barely had time to register the incoming missiles before the missiles connected and detonated in the superstructures of the enemy destroyers, wreaking havoc, starting fires and killing a number of crewmembers. On the Almeida, the missile detonated just aft of the MK-41 missile battery on the forecastle, setting off fires and blasting upwards, taking out the bridge and creating fires that threatened to detonate the missile battery. On the Dias, the missile struck just ahead of the smokestack, taking out her battery of Harpoons and sensor mast, and created fierce fires. The Corte-Real was luckier, not having been targetted yet, and immediately took evasive action while firing off a spread of MK-46 ASW torpedoes in the general direction of where the missiles came from.

In the Central, the spread of enemy torpedoes was picked up immediately.

"Torpedo torpedo torpedo! Bearing 097, speed 30 knots! Enemy torpedoes are searching!"

"Break wires, close outer doors, come to 100 metres! Starboard 20, all ahead flank!"

As the U.533 started a crash dive to 100 metres and evasive manouvers, the wires to the torpedoes were broken and the torpedoes started operating autonomously. It didn't really help the enemy warships though, since the torpedoes allocated to them quickly picked up the signatures and started homing. Almeida and Dias disappeared in a fountain of water and fire as the respective torpedoes detonated their 300-kilogram aluminised PBX explosive warheads eight metres underneath their keels, creating a vaccume in the water that was immediately filled by the water around the keels. The result was that the keels - the strongest part of any ship - simply snapped in half by the extreme forces generated by the suction, breaking the ships in half and effectively killing them.

The Corte-Real immediately tried to evade and altered course, but she couldn't match the CM7A2 in speed. It was a race the frigate was bound to lose. As the torpedo intercepted the frigate and detonated underneath her engine room, the frigate seemed to just stop in the water as the fate of Almeida and Dias was repeated. The entire engine staff died along with most of the crewmembers in the aft of the frigate as the rear of the frigate seemed to disappear in a fountain of sea water. The crew in the bow of the ship were luckier, being able to get topside and abandon ship before the remnants of the Corte-Real sank below the waves to perpetual rest on the ocean floor.

On the U.533, speed was increased to 41 knots - the absolute flank speed - and radical course changes were carried out as the sub tried to evade the two MK-46 torpedoes. Active countermeasures were dropped into the water, and one of the torpedoes fell for the trick, detonating relatively harmlessly half a nautical mile from the U.533. The second torpedo refused to take the bait, and increased in speed to 40 knots. Depth was also changed, with the U.533 diving to 500 metres - the max depth she was spec'ed to endure. The MK-46 torpedo tried to follow her, but torpedo wasn't rated for pressure beyond 400 metres, and broke itself apart.

The sound of the torpedo breaking up was immediately passed to the CO, and U.533 slowed down to a more tactically prudent 9 knots, decelerating quickly as she rose to 100 metres. As the submarine changed depths, the sonarmen heard a sound that filled all seamen's hearts with sorrow. The sound was the shrieks of metal being compressed by the pressure. The sound of a ship dying.

U.533 rose to periscope depth ten minutes later to conduct a post-action recce and found a number of inflated liferafts filled with frightened, frozen and wounded men. Swallowing a lump in his throat, the CO instructed a line to be added to the attack report he was about to send, noting that there were survivors in the water and noting their position. Two minutes, the signal was sent. The submarine couldn't surface to pick up the survivors, but they had notified Command where the survivors were. Hoping that the Command had the decency to relay the information to appropriate rescue authorities, the CO ordered the mast down, instructed the attack team to stand down, and the submarine to return to 50 metres and resume the patrol.

========================

Z O 200012Z AUG 12
FM HMS U533
TO KOMUVBGRU 20.2
INFO MOD COTLAND
BT
K O N F I D E N S I E L T
RELEASABLE TO APOLONIA AS CONFIDENTIAL
SIC ATQ
SUBJ: ATTACK REPORT/U533/001/AUG 12//
1. OWN POS/3817.4N-00956.4W//
2. READ IN SIX COLUMNS: CLASS/POS/COURSE/DAMAGE INCLICTED/WEAPON USED/RMKS//
2A. POR DDGH D356 ALMEIDA/3817.2N-00956.3W/096/SUNK/1 AMESM, 1 CM7A2/-//
2B. POR DDGH D358 DIAS/3817.2N-00956.2W/097/SUNK/1 AMESM, 1 CM7A2/-//
2C. POR FFGH F332 CORTE-REAL/3817.3N-00956.4W/102/SUNK/1 CM7A2/-//
3. WEAPONS EXPENDED/2 AMESM, 3 CM7A3, 1 IDAS//
4. WEAPONS REMAINING/10 AMESM, 35 CM7A3, 15 IDAS, 12 IMSDAL//
5. RMKS/SURVIVORS IN WATER, POS 3817.2N-00956.2W//
BT

An hour after the signal reached the Ministry of Defence, it was forwarded to the Apolonians. Hopefully, they would be in the position to send out a rescue vessel.

[Terra Reborn]

ACT II
The Empire Strikes Back

The Airmen's Hymn

Almighty Father of the Sky,
be with our airmen when they fly;
and keep them in they loving care
amid the perils of the air:
O let our cry come unto thee
for those who fly o’er land and sea.

Strong Son of Man save those who fly
swift-winged across the uncharted sky;
be with them always in the air,
in darkening storms or sunlight fair:
O’er land and ocean safely bear
all those in peril in the air.

O Holy Spirit, God’s own power
give peace in sudden danger’s hour;
O wind of heaven, by thy might
save all who dare the eagles’ flight:
And keep them in they watchful care
from every peril in the air.

O Trinity of love and might,
be with our airmen day and night;
in peace or war, ‘midst friend or foe,
be with them wheresoe’er they go:
Thus shall our prayers ascend to thee
with those who fly o’er land and sea.

[Terra Reborn]

His Majesty Walker I, King of Apilonia, Highlord Von Karin
Von Karin Fortress, Karin City, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Friday 24th August 2012, 2300hrs Local Time (2300hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0800hrs Zulu Time (25/08/2012))

“Don’t be such a bloody fool!” Walker said hotly. “I will not allow you to take my son off the Enterprise.”

Field Marshal the Right Honourable John T. Anders, Earl of Wade Hampton and Imperial Secretary of State for Defence leant back in his chair at the vehemence in his monarchs voice. John Anders had been with Walker Von Karin since he served as the Colonel of his Guard during the dark times and he had never heard, or seen, him so agitated. He had seen him angry before, but not aimed at him and he was surprised how uncomfortable it made him feel. He knew that this difficult position would come up again, especially when in this day and age officers were not always remaining at the rear, the fact that members of the Royal Family served in the military were a credit to themselves and the Royal Family but there would always be concerns.

“Your Majesty, we cannot have the Crown Prince of this Empire in a high level of danger,” Anders replied carefully.

“He fought in Australia!” Walker snapped. “What was the point in training him if he can’t fight combat?”

“It was a whole lot less dangerous then, he only fought over Sydney right at the edge of the range of enemy fighters,” Anders pointed out calmly. “We may have destroyed the Portuguese Navy but they’ve still got an air force that is a match to a Carrier Air Group and that is without counting the enemies air defences. Let’s say, god-forbid, Prince Arthur gets shot down and survives, you know as well as I that we would have to get our heir to the throne out by any measures and that could put the rest of the operations at risk.”

“That is bollocks,” Walker scowled. “The three of us, me, you and Arthur, agreed last year that in any situations like this you would treat him as any other, he would go to ground and be rescued by Marines.”

“You know as well as I that wouldn’t happen like that,” Anders argued.

“Well it damn well better,” Walker said sharply. “He will fly combat, and in the event that he does get shot down he will be treated as any other downed pilot, and I will personally relieve any officer who does anything differently. Am I understood, Field Marshal?”

“Yes. Your Majesty.” Anders said after a few moments.

Anders didn’t like it, and he knew that it would set dangerous precedents for the future, but his King had just given him a direct order and he was not about to refuse to obey it. He would pass on the orders to the appropriate commanders to ensure that if anything went wrong every effort was meant to recover any downed pilots, regardless of who they were, specifically they were not to commit any extraordinary resources simply because it was the Crown Prince. At the end of the day any downed pilot would garner a substantial response, it was one of the most difficult positions that any member of the armed forces could be placed in, the only thing that Anders could think to be worse was either a military unit caught behind enemy lines or a shipwrecked crew, and as such as long as he was Defence Minister he would ensure that any such personnel were recovered as quickly as physically possible, Crown Prince of not. This discussion did bring into sharp contrast the fact that the next stage of this operation was about to begin. The Enterprise and her Battlegroup had arrived on-station a few hours previously and would be beginning operations in the morning.

The Imperial pieces were finally in place, and would soon begin moving forward in the first retaliatory Imperial military campaign in modern history. And god help us all, Anders thought grimly.

“If there is nothing else, Your Majesty, it seems I have orders to rescind,” Anders aid presently.

“Very well, Dismissed,” Walker replied.

Walker leant back in his chair as his Defence Minister stood, bowed and exited the room. That could have gone better, Walker conceded at he glanced at the fire on the wall that was actually the same wall of his bed chamber. He was sat in the Royal Living Room on the Residence Floor of the Fortress, specifically in the private enclave that was blocked from the door by wall that ran three-quarters of the breadth of the room, unlike the other part which was much more spacious this was designed to be cosy, and so it was. Walker closed his eyes and listened to the crackle of the burning wood, he was so engrossed that he didn’t hear the approach of another until she literally sat in his lap. Although part of him knew this could only be one person, his eyes still shot open in surprise. As he had expected it was none other than Jessica Wilson, his fiancé and Queen-to-be, they were due to get married on the 21st of September, hopefully this mess with Portugal would be out of the way by then. Jessica kissed him gently on the lips.

“Are you alright, I saw John Anders a few minutes ago, didn’t look best pleased,” Jessica commented delicately as she leant into him and he put his arm around her. “You two have a disagreement?”

“He wanted to take Arthur out of combat duty,” Walker sighed. “I refused.”

Jessica didn’t say anything, she knew better than to aggravate Walker when he was in this kind of mood, once he got something in his head it was fairly difficult to get it out, and you risked a long argument-come-debate on the situation if you disagreed. She could see where Anders had been coming from, putting the heir to the throne in a situation where he might be killed was not particularly clever, but the fact remained that Arthur had been trained as a fighter pilot, there was no point in doing that and then not letting him actually do any fighting, not to mention that Arthur would one day be King, and historically many Imperial Kings had been former military officers, Walker would have been if the situation had been different and no one in the military was going to hold that against him. Jessica could see both points of view, although she was leaning towards Walker, especially given that Arthur had seen combat before and the argument that the danger was different was, frankly, a load of bollocks. No doubt Walker had pulled the ‘I am the King’ card and this had of course won in that situation.

After a few moments she looked back at him and found Walker staring sadly into the fire.

“What’s wrong,” Jessica asked softly.

“This is the part that I hate,” Walker sighed. “I’ve gotten used, just about, to sending our people into war but its this time, the last few hours before the fighting starts that really gets to me. I know the Gibraltar Squadron was fighting but that was different, the enemy was coming to attack us, this is us going on the offensive.”

“Walker, my love, this is who you are, the day that you stop feeling sorrow for any part of the deployment process is going to be a dark day,” Jessica said, placing her left hand on his cheek and turning him to look at her. “The Portuguese committed an atrocious crime against the Empire, one that we should capture and try their decision-makers for by the way, we are fully justified in this action, and every member of the Imperial Military is fully behind this invasion, and you know it.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better.” Walker sighed.

“I know, but don’t beat yourself up about it,” Jessica said gently. “You know, you need a holiday, once this business is all done.”

“Because I’m allowed to take a holiday,” Walker commented wryly.

“Alright, I got a suggestion for you, for our honeymoon we take the Royal Yacht on a cruise of the South Pacific, back up to the Caribbean and then back home,” Jessica suggested. “All your work can be passed onto us aboard the Yacht and we can turn it into a working holiday by doing a few visitits in Australia.”

“Not the most romantic honeymoon dear,” Walker sighed.

“I knew it wouldn’t be when I agreed to marry you, hell I knew that it wasn’t going to be a normal relationship when we started this thing,” Jessica replied with a smile. “But I love you, Walker Von Karin, and you are a romantic in your own way, and you know full well that the Prime Minister and the Lord High Minister can hold down the fort here, besides if we are needed back home I’m fairly confident Imperial One can meet us.”

“Okay, you have me convinced,” Walker smiled. “I’ll get onto the appropriate people in the morning, now my dear, I think we should be getting to bed.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jessica said, gently kissing him.

[Terra Reborn]

His Royal Highness Prince Arthur, Crown Prince of Apilonia, KAE DSC
H.M.S. Enterprise (R-06), Forty-Miles off the Coast of Portugal, Atlantic Ocean
International Waters
Saturday 25th August 2012, 1700hrs Local Time (0800hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1700hrs Zulu Time)

Lieutenant Arthur Von Karin, as he was known in the Military, stood on the walkway on the bridge tower and looked out over the deck as a pair of F-21s blasted from the deck to relieve the combat air patrol that was already flying. The Enterprise and her Battlegroup were all Cottish made, as opposed to the other carrier groups which consisted of either older ex-American Nimitz’ or Layertebian Washington-Class vessels, and the escorts were likewise Cottish as opposed to the predominantly American-build destroyers and frigates that had been brought into the Navy in large numbers by the absorption of the Australian Navy and the ready availability of additional ships due to the American shipyards unique production policy. Arthur had to admit that he liked the Bjarmeland-Class vessel more than the others and was proud to serve aboard her, not to mention that he got to fly combat jets from her and had seen combat. It wouldn’t last forever of course but he intended full well to take advantage of every moment he got.

The Enterprise Battlegroup was a formidable formation. At the centre of course was the Fleet Carrier, directly supported by a Saga-Class Battlecruiser; HMS Pacifica, which aside from adding to the defence also served as the main forward deployable surface asset the formation had. Next came the two Tiger-Class cruisers, one of which served as the co-ordinator of anti-air warfare: Red Crown, these capable cruisers were supported by a quartet of Mankell Class destroyers, specifically designed to protect against enemy aircraft and missiles. Whilst the cruisers stayed in comparatively close formation with the Carrier, rotating around a defensive perimeter as to best face the most likely vector of attack, the four destroyers were spread out anywhere between five and twenty nautical miles from the carrier. Furthest out where the pair of Jossing Class Destroyer Escorts (generally referred to as frigates these days) which served primarily as pickets, enhancing the radar range of the surface assets and generally keeping an eye out for submarines and the like before they can get within striking range of the Carrier.

The second part of the fleet was primarily concerned with providing the attack force with anti-shipping capabilities in the event that any of the European powers decided to try and stir up trouble, and would also be able to provide a substantial striking force. Consisting of two full Battle Divisions from the Home Fleet, four Hood-Class Battleships, powerful weapons of war capable of carrying over two hundred anti-ship/cruise missiles as well as enough missiles to provide some defence. In addition four Ardent Class Destroyers and eight Firefly Class Frigates were also present as a screening element, giving the group a powerful punch and a stalwart defence. Even as a Naval Aviator he could appreciate the sheer presence of the four battleships, sailing in the distinctive line abreast formation that had starred in so many photographs of the Empire back in the old days, to see such a sight of Imperial Battleships once again was warming to the soul for an Imperial Sailor and was another sign that they were on the right track towards greatness once again. Of course once the shooting war started they would assume a more tactical formation as required, but even so.

And of course beneath the waves no less than four Astute-Class submarines prowled, keeping quiet they were searching far and wide for any sign of trouble, for anything that might threaten the combined fleet.

Arthur glanced up as the shipwide announced a call for all pilots to report to the briefing room. Turning from the flight operations he headed back inside the superstructure and began to make his way quickly through the corridors until he arrived at the briefing room and took up his seat. It wasn’t long before the air wing commanding officer arrived: Commander Tony White and took his position at the front of briefing room.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Commander White said, bringing the conversation in the room to an abrupt end. “In a few hours time we will begin a co-ordinated bombardment of Portuguese forces in order to pave the way for the Imperial Marines to secure their beachhead.”

He paused meaningfully.

“Latest intelligence indicates that the enemy has approximately forty combat aircraft in operational status, our first order of business is going to be a fighter sweep by all five of our Einherjar squadrons,” White continued. “100 NAS will fly outfitted with HARM missiles and strike enemy radar facilities along the coast, the rest of the air wing will fly with a totally air-to-air load-out and between all of us we should be able to destroy the enemies combat capabilities in terms of fighters. AWACs will be provided by an E-2 from 201 NAS whilst two EA-6B Prowlers from 200 NAS will also be in the area as required. This is going to be a combat mission people so stick with your wingman and don’t get overconfident. Any questions?”

“I presume that under the circumstances our rules of engagement are shoot anything that flies and has weapons strapped to its arse?” Arthur commented wryly.

“We doubt any civilian aircraft will be in the sky, the locals know we are coming and we’ve made it quite clear to the international community what we have planned, only a suicidal fool would take to the skies, however, anything that isn’t a fighter is to be challenged before you attack,” Commander White instructed them severely. “We will not shoot down civilian aircraft, so check your targets before you pull that trigger. Am I understood?”

A chorus of ‘yes-sir’s responding and the Commander looked satisfied. He answered a few more mundane questions on the exact details before wishing them luck and ordering them to get some last minute rest before they took to the skies, the assembled pilots broke up and made their own ways to their respective pre-fight activities. For Arthur he was heading for the ship-to-shore telephones which bounced a signal up to a satellite, back to a communications centre in the Empire which then transferred it to the main phone lines to allow anyone to be contacted, it wasn’t cheap but it was subsidised by the Navy, something which everyone was grateful for. When he arrived there he was easily able to get at one of the phones, just before they were supposed to fly combat pilots tended to get priority over those who wouldn’t be going into harms way, and as it was highly doubtful that the enemy would attempt to attack the carrier group no one else was considered to be ‘in danger’. The receiver of his call was his wife to-be, Alice Willis. After a few long moments the call connected and he knew he was speaking to her from her guest room (until they were formally married she maintained a guest room) at the Von Karin Fortress in Karin City.

“Alice.”

“Arthur,” She replied, the pleasure at hearing from him obvious. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine, my love,” Arthur replied with a slight smile, even though she couldn’t see. “I will be going up in a few hours, I promised to call you before I did.”

“So you did,” Alice agreed. “Is it a combat mission?”

“Yes, we are launching our initial strike against the Portuguese, but we don’t expect any problems,” Arthur replied, technically speaking until they were married Alice did not get security clearance and he probably shouldn’t be telling her the timing of the attack, but he trusted her implicitly, and besides was anyone really going to argue with him? “We’re expecting the enemy to be scrambling to try and cover all of their vital ground-based installations, so we’re going to carry out a fighter sweep and pick them apart.”

“Your father said he would keep me up to date on the operations,” Alice replied. “Which was nice of him I thought.”

“He likes you,” Arthur laughed. “Good thing too really, but this campaign shouldn’t take all that long if what we hear is happening on the ground actually is, I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that one, Arthur Von Karin,” Alice replied in a mock stern voice. “Keep safe.”

[Terra Reborn]

His Royal Highness Prince Arthur, Crown Prince of Apilonia, KAE DSC
F-21 Einherjar, Over Portugal
Europe
Saturday 25th August 2012, 2100hrs Local Time (1200hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2100hrs Zulu Time)

Considering they had been tasked with seizing the airspace over the enemy capital the men and women of 101 Naval Air Squadron probably should have realised that something was amiss when only half a dozen aircraft had been scrambled to meet them. Four of their number had been easily shot down whilst the remaining two had high-tailed it to the north with six of the twelve fighters from 101 NAS in fast pursuit under the command of Lieutenant Von Karin, whilst the rest of the squadron maintained over watch over the enemy capital. As they continued to fly north as fast as their engines could carry them the enemy was just about able to stay out of missile range and despite their best efforts the Imperials couldn’t quite get them into a firing solution. As they flew north Arthur listened to the various reports coming in from the other squadrons that had been part of the fighter sweep, and aside from a few small pockets of resistance the vast bulk of the enemy air force was simply nowhere to be seen. It was all damned peculiar and seemed to go against all conventional logic.

Soon enough they were flying a few hundred feet above the mountains and the two enemy fighters suddenly took a dive towards the peaks and seemed intent on taking the Imperial fighters on a crazy ride through the mountains, and whilst Arthur didn’t particularly like that idea he knew they had no choice. Giving the order his fighters followed the two hostiles down into the mountain range and began to close the distance and within a few minutes the pair had been shot down by missiles. It was only as they reformed and cleared the last ridge that they realised the sheer level of their mistake. Popping up into the valley they found themselves suddenly faced with a large force of plains of the Portuguese air force, probably about sixteen in total, outnumbering his fighters three to one. Even as he barked orders to break and engage as best he could he realised exactly what the enemy was doing and that they had fallen right for it, they had been overly arrogant in their abilities and it was now about to cost them dearly.

The rapid reaction of the imperial plains allowed them to get a salvo off at the same time as the enemy, two Meteors apiece shot from each plane after a given enemy aircraft, whilst the enemy only replied with a single missile each. Although they had been fired at singular targets the higher volume of Imperial missiles per aircraft meant that all six of the enemy aircraft targeted were downed, however the sheer number of the enemy meant that even with the best piloting in the world, two Imperial fighters were downed and another was heavily damaged, to his horror Arthur could see no chutes. With only four fighters left he knew that they should withdraw, but if they did so the enemy would be able to pick them apart as they tried to flee, which left the only option to go on the offensive. The enemy had been caught out by the swiftness of the Imperial reaction and hesitated just long enough for Arthur’s remaining four birds to get off another missile salvo, and downing another four enemy aircraft, before they closed to gun range, brought on by the sheer close quarters they had been in courtesy of the enemy ambush. They had managed to improve the odds somewhat but were still outnumbered two to one.

The Imperials fought valiantly but at the end of the day they were four fighters against eight and they were always going to be at a disadvantage. Working in pairs they did their level best to prevent the enemy into getting into positions where they could get a kill shot in on the enemy, but within the space of a few rapid minutes one Imperial fighter was shot down (again without a chute) and the other two were damaged, including Arthurs own, although he had only a few shots through his wing. In return they had managed to down another two enemy aircraft but it was obvious that they couldn’t hope to outmanoeuvre the others, with the exception of Arthur the other two pilots had serious hydraulic failures and would be lucky to make it back to the ship. Arthur considered his position, his fighter was the only one with any hope of fending off any more enemy fighters, but at the same time he couldn’t take on all four and come out the other side in one piece. But if he could hold them off for long enough then perhaps his two remaining pilots would make it back to Lisbon and the rest of the squadron.

The fact that staying behind to let the two remaining pilots get back would deprive (and possibly kill) the heir to the Imperial Throne only passed through his mind for a few seconds before he gave the orders.

“Alright you two, I want you to bug-out to the west and try and make it back to the Carrier, if the rest of the fighter sweep has run into as much trouble as us they’ll need both of you,” Arthur instructed grimly over the squadron com. “I’ll try and keep them occupied until you can rendezvous with additional Imperial forces.”

“You can’t be asking us to do that!” One of the other pilots exclaimed. “We can’t leave you, of all people, behind!”

“Lieutenant, as far as you are concerned I am just another Imperial pilot, when it comes down to it sacrificing one pilot to save two others is the best course of action,” Arthur said grimly. “Now I am not going to argue about this, you are to return to the Carrier at best possible speed, that is a direct order, carry it out!”

“I…, Understood sir,” The Pilot replied with an audible sound. “Good Luck, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks. alright, here is what we are going to do, we’re going to all head west then I’m going to flip over and try and catch a few of them still going after you, should at least get one of them,” Arthur instructed and they got on with their task and as suspected the four enemy fighters came up on their sixes. “Alright boys, I’m going to break now, see you on the other side chaps.”

With only another moments thought Arthur pulled back on his throttle and hard on the airbrakes, drastically reducing his airspeed and resulting in the enemy aircraft overshooting him and without any hesitation he caught the trailing enemy craft in his tracking and sent a pair of IRIS-T missiles after him, and due to the short range he went down with ease. The three remaining enemy aircraft began to turn to face him and he was able to take down a second before the enemy had managed to turn and got him under his guns. As it happened he kept the last two enemy aircraft tied up for a full ten minutes, even without managing to take down either of the two enemies. The enemy worked together to finally take him down, whilst he was tied up evading one the other managed to move into a superior firing position and strafed him with cannon fire, which he was lucky to survive, which tore appear his fuselage and engine sending him spiralling towards the ground. He had been luckier than his other pilots however as he was able to reach for his ejection handle and tugging hard soon found himself being ejected from the aircraft at some speed and after a few moments of concern his parachute deployed and he began to float slowly towards the surface, thankfully the enemy were decent enough to not shoot him in his chute, he would at least give them that. It took a few minutes to make it down once he detached from the seat itself, but used that time well to try and head towards where he had seen the seat itself go down. Although he had his personal survival kit with him there was s hock-reinforced bag on the back of the seat with a larger kit which would be invaluable if he could reach it.

A few moments later he was on the ground, a kilometre and a half from the ejection seat, and quickly gathered together his parachute and stashed it way out of sight before setting about quickly looking through his survival kit to ensure that everything was in good order. The last thing he did before moving out was check his FN Five Seven pistol, which like the rest of his gear was attached to his flight suit, as well as the additional magazines and found them in good order. He hoped that he didn’t have to use them, given that if he had to use his pistol he would probably already be a dead man walking, which was another reason he wanted to get to the ejection seat and the MP5 submachine gun in the larger survival kit. Sighing slightly to himself Arthur set off.

He couldn’t help but wonder what this would do to the campaign. With his being behind enemy lines the worst nightmares of every senior Imperial had been realised, and despite his fathers insistence that he be treated no differently than any other downed pilot he knew that wouldn’t be the case. All he could do now was best facilitate a rescue that did not disrupt the overall flow of the operation. This was of course assuming that he made it out alive, something he wasn’t entirely sure was going to happen.

[Terra Reborn]

His Majesty Walker I, King of Apilonia, Highlord Von Karin
Von Karin Fortress, Karin City, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Saturday 25th August 2012, 1400hrs Local Time (1400hrs Imperial Capital Time, 2300hrs Zulu Time)

The King was furious.

And rightly so, not simply because it was his son that had been shot down. The simple fact of the matter was that the entire effort had been undermined from the start in that it had been too arrogant. No one in the decision making process at the tactical level (whilst the Admiralty had given general instructions it had been the CO of the Enterprise Strike Group that had decided upon a spread-out fighter sweep) had even considered that the Portuguese might actually be able to put up any sort of a fight much less try anything tricky. The cost had been severe, by defeating in detail small groups of Imperial fighters the enemy air force had been able to destroy half the air wing for only twenty-five per cent losses, most of which had been in the engagement with the crown prince’s detached flight. Aside from Prince Arthur there were at least a dozen other Imperial pilots shot down behind enemy lines who would need to either be rescued or to lie low until the invasion could take place. It went without saying that someone would be having serious words with Rear Admiral Santino, and he would be incredibly lucky if he kept his command as it had been his decision at the end of the day.

The King had yet to make that decision and Admiral of the Fleet Sir Thomas Kittinger, Chief of the Defence Staff, and Admiral Dame Victoria Grisham were expecting that decision to be made in the upcoming meeting in the War Room.

The fact of the matter was that the entire invasion operation was now at risk. The Enterprise Air Group had thirty-six F-21s left, out of a full complement of sixty, and another eight or so of those were too badly damaged to fly, all of this meant that effectively the striking capability of the carrier had been slashed in half, and certainly wasn’t enough to successfully defeat the remaining Portuguese air force which still numbered approximately sixty aircraft, and showed every intention of continuing the same tactic. If they were going to defeat the enemy air force to allow the invasion to take place they needed to send in enough planes to be able to remain in sufficient number to prevent the enemy from defeating them in detail again. The Enterprise now lacked the aircraft to do that successfully, and that was a major problem. The risks of launching an invasion without full air superiority were simply too high, sure it could be done if they moved the destroyers in close to the shore to back up the fighters, but at some point the Marines were going to have to move further inland and would eventually need the fighters to come with them out of the protective arc of the AA destroyers, all of which meant that they needed to gain air supremacy before the assault could begin otherwise it would be doomed to failure.

The collected senior military officers and officials snapped to attention as their King entered the room, and the expression on his face was a dark one and for once, he did not wave them back into their seats straight away, instead he waited until he had sat down before waving them into their seats almost as an afterthought. He leant back in his chair and glanced around at all of the individuals present, only a handful could hold his angry gaze, and that was not through any personal weakness more the intensity of his anger.

“Okay people, we’ve got thirteen Imperial pilots missing in action, we’ve got a country that has pissed us off once again and we’ve got an invasion to launch,” Walker said evenly, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. “Before we begin however, Admiral Grisham, you will cut orders to relieve Rear Admiral Santino from command and place him on half pay until I can decide what the hell I want to do with him. Place the Enterprise’s skipper in temporary command until we can find a permanent replacement. And I shall say nothing else on the matter at this time.”

The King paused and glanced around at the gathered military personnel meaningfully. Everyone knew that being relieved of command by the First Sea Lord (especially on the King’s Orders) meant the end of Santino’s career. It was only the fact that it had been a tactical blunder rather than any personal cowardice or a ‘case of failing to do his upmost’ that would save him from a Court-Martial and dishonourable discharge as unfit to wear the King’s Uniform. Instead he would more than likely be ‘encouraged’ to resign his commission and would be honourably discharged from the Imperial Navy, which as far as Walker was concerned was far too good for him. No doubt he had just gained himself a political opponent, as Santino had always been interested in politics, but at this point Walker didn’t care too much.

“Okay, so we’ve got rid of that problem, now we’ve got the bigger one,” Walker commented. “How the hell are we going to recover this situation from the hole that Admiral Santino has dug for us.”

Admiral of the Fleet Kittinger glanced over at his civilian superior, The Right Honourable John T. Anders, Earl of Wade Hampton and His Majesty’s Secretary of State for Defence, who nodded.

“Our first priority has to be destroying the enemy’s air forces, and with the Audacious still on the otherside of the Atlantic and the Enterprise lacking the fighters to do it alone we’ve been forced to turn to the IAF,” Kittinger replied, sharing a good natured grin with the Chief of the Air Staff. “We’ve got twenty-four Typhoon F.3s based out of IAF Gibraltar, it’ll still be pretty tight but with both those Typhoons and the F-21s from the carrier group we’ve got a fairly good chance of destroying the enemies airforce, especially if we are able to take out their ground bases.”

“How would we do that?” Walker questioned.

“Cruise missiles, we launch several salvos of Imsadel cruise missiles from the fleet, if we can deprive the enemy of at least some their ground bases they’ll be able to keep as many birds in the air, making our job easier, and of course if we can catch the enemy on the ground, so much the better.” Kittinger replied. “Once we’ve got air superiority we can bring in the Marines, given the tenacity the enemy has shown I think we should speed up the deployment plan for the army, if we can fly out the 1st Division to Gibraltar it’s a much shorter hop then to get them into Southern Portugal once the Marines seize a southerly airport.”

“How many ground troops are we talking at deploying in total?” Walker enquired.
“If the population rises up against their oppressors as we hope, which should deprive the enemy of some of their own units, we anticipate only having to deploy another division, so call it fifty-thousand combat troops plus over ten thousand combat support such as the Royal Engineers and REME,” General Sir Anthony Brewis, Chief of the General Staff, replied. “The Third Division will reinforce 1st Division in a few weeks, unless something really bad happens and we need to rush-deploy them, however I am cutting orders for the Coldstream Guards, the Washington Light Infantry, the King’s Own Lancers and the Royal Green Jackets to begin preparation to deploy to Gibraltar by the end of the week, along with their brigades associated other units.”

“We can do this with sixty thousand troops?” Walker frowned.

“The regular Portuguese Army numbers about fifty thousand personnel, at most a half of those will be combat troops, of course plus regulars there are some more but with our full-spectrum support we should have more than enough troops, especially if the locals on the ground help us,” General Brewis nodded. “If it comes down to it, I’m sure we can count on being able to mobilise additional divisions if appropriate.”

“Alright, it looks like you’ve got the barebones of an operational plan, make whatever preparations are needed and you have my permission to launch another fighter offensive, but wait twenty-four hours, I want the enemy to think they’ve cowed us back into the sea” Walker nodded grimly. “In the meantime, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I’ve got to tell a sweet young woman that her fiancé is currently missing in action.”

[Terra Reborn]

Miss Alice Willis
Lake Washington Rowing Club, Seattle, Washington
American Territories, Apilonian Empire
Saturday 25th August 2012, 1600hrs Local Time (1600hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0100hrs Zulu Time (26/08/12)

After four long hours of rowing, albeit in a coxed quad, Alice Willis was absolutely shattered. It had been worth it however, they had been taking part in a charity event that took them far and wide across Lake Washington and had the added side effect of getting them an excellent practice session. An experienced rower, Alice normally rowed with Karin Rowing Club and had joined them on this charity event to raise its profile; she was after all the soon-to-be crown princess of the entire Empire and the news coverage alone would do great things for the national profile of rowing, and this was something she whole-heartedly supported. In either case rowing was something that she loved and had been more than happy to row at any chance she got, living in Alaska meant that it was all too often not possible; either the waterways were frozen over, not particularly appropriate for rowing or generally freezing cold. Although any good rower didn’t particularly want to capsize their boat the fact remained that it was possible, and when the water was so cold anyone going into the water in such temperatures would be in trouble, making rowing not particularly possible in such northern extremes.

As the quad slipped alongside dockside Alice and the three other rowers lifted their blades as some of the people on the land grabed their oars to help pull them in. Once they were secure the four rowers and their cox exited the boat one by one, once they were all clear they detached the oars and stacked them up against the boathouse. Returning to the boat they lifted it out of the water and above their heads, taking it along to the boathouse and placed it onto a pair of slats to begin wiping it down. They laughed and joked about the fact that the various less than professional newsies and photographers had camped out just to get a picture of Alice Willis in the form-fitting costumes worn by rowers. Alice was distracted by the sudden appearance of her two bodyguards from the Von Karin Guard, who normally stayed outside when in the boathouse (as there was no other way into the building), so clearly something was wrong. She frowned as she bid farewell to her crewmates and strode over to where the two Guardsmen were stood, looking clearly disturbed about something. The senior of the two, a Sergeant, looked more uncomfortable if that was possible.

“What’s wrong,” Alice asked carefully, crossing her arms in front of her, just underneath her breasts. “I can tell something is the matter Sergeant, just be out with it, I’m a big girl.”

“It’s the Crown Prince, Ma’am,” The Sergeant replied uncomfortably. “He’s been shot down over Portugal and is missing in action. The King wanted to tell you himself but had to stay in Karin due to a development on the ground in Portugal, we’ve got a plane waiting to fly you up to Karin where you’ll be fully briefed on the situation.”

Alice didn’t hear most of the latter half of the Sergeants reply, she had tuned it out. Her face losing most of the colour that had been worked up during her exertions as she paled in shock, how could this have been allowed to happen. She answered this question in short order of course, Arthur was a stubborn man who had refused to be taken out of combat. As much as she hoped that he would make it back alright, if he did she was going to kill him herself for putting her through this. She remained silent for a few moments as the two Guardsmen shared concerned looks before squaring her shoulders.

“Alright Sergeant, lead the way.”

His Majesty Walker I, King of Apilonia and of the Imperial Realms and Territories, Highlord Von Karin,
The Von Karin Fortress, Karin City, Alaska
The Northern Territories of the Apilonian Empire
Saturday 25th August 2012, 1800hrs Local Time (1800hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0300hrs Zulu Time (26/08/12)

Walker glanced up from the report he was reading and stood up as Alice Willis was shown into his private study by his Steward. His heart literally broke as he saw the sheer sadness in the young woman’s eyes. As much as he would have preferred to tell her in person, the intelligence that the locals were beginning to look like rising up against the oppressors had been too important to ignore. He walked over slowly as he examined her sad expressed and her empty eyes, clearly the two hour flight had given her ample time to absorb the situation and exactly what it meant. He wasted no time in embracing her in a fatherly hug, although she wasn’t part of his family yet she soon would be and he cared for her as if she was his own child. She returned the embrace clearly needing the comfort. It was ironic, when first introduced a few months previously Alice had been timid and uncomfortable around the King, and not only because they had spent so much time together, it was sad that something like this had to provide the proper push.

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” Walker sighed as he gestured to one of the comfortable sofa’s in area between his desk and the door to the corridor, he sat down as well. “We are doing all we can to get him back, but even I’ve had to admit that we’ve got bigger problems than just Arthur, we lost over a dozen pilot MIA in the same screw-up that cost Arthur his bird. Even though he is my son I cannot justify sending a team just after him and none of the other pilots, and even if I could, I could never look the public in the face again, much less the families of the other pilots who are missing too.”

Alice nodded numbly.

“So what are we doing to rescue all of the pilots then?” She questioned.

“Standard operating procedures would be to lay low, all pilots are well trained in survival skills and should be able to live off their emergency rations and the land for some time, however once we’ve actually gained air superiority we are going to send in combat search and rescue helicopters into the general area, if the pilots see them they’ll let off flares,” Walker explained. “Once picked up they’ll be flown to either HMS Enterprise or to Gibraltar, depending where is closer. It’s just a matter of waiting I’m afraid my dear, they could find Arthur first or they could find him last, but I think it’s fair to say that we can presume that Arthur is alive and laying low, we both know he’s too stubborn to die.”

Alice had to giggle slightly at that, despite her sad emotions.

“How did it all go wrong?” She wanted to know after a few moments however.

“Simply? Our people on the ground got overconfident, they split up our forces and the enemy displayed more cunning than had been expected and devastated our fighter sweep by defeating smaller groups in detail with large collections of fighters,” Walker sighed. “Its only through the heroics of pilots like Arthur that anyone made it out of these ambushes, indeed I believe that the First Sea Lord is putting together a number of officers including Arthur who will be receiving gallantry medals once this is over.”

“Will you keep me updated?” Alice asked.

“Of course, I can’t justify putting you in the war room at this point, but I intend to have one of the War Room staff give you briefings if anything happens,” Walker nodded. “In the meantime I would recommend staying at the Fortress so that we can get hold of you when there is news.”

“Thank you, anything is better than nothing,” Alice replied with a slight smile. “Is there anything I can do to help in the meantime, anything to keep me busy?”

“You could head over to the Foreign Office, give the Foreign Secretary a hand, she’s juggling potential scenarios in Europe and trying to update how our presence in Portugal will affect them,” Walker suggested. “You’d be close enough to get back over here when we hear what’s going down on the ground.”

“It’s better than sitting here and doing nothing, I’ll do it,” Alice nodded. “Maybe I can do my bit to help out.”

[Terra Reborn]

Rear Admiral Nick Harrington DSO
H.M.S. Von Grippen(BBN03), Off the Coast of Portugal
The North Atlantic
Sunday 26th August 2012, 1000hrs Local Time (0100hrs Imperial Capital Time, 1000hrs Zulu Time)

Rear AdmiralNick Harrington, commanding officer of Imperial Battle Division 1-4, former Commander of the entire Imperial First Battle Squadron stood on the bridge of his flagship the formidable HMS Von Grippen as it sat amidst its fellows and escorts a short distance from the Enterprise Battle Group. The element from the Imperial Home Fleet, consisting of two Battle Divisions totaling four Hood-Class Battleships, had arrived only a few hours previously and was here with two main purposes. The first was to provide enhanced strike capabilities with her formidable load out of the adaptable AMESM cruise missiles, equally capable of being used in an anti-shipping mode as an anti-ground. Between the four Imperial capital ships they had over a thousand such missiles at their disposal, although as they represented a substantial investment it was unlikely that they would all be fired during this campaign, indeed they were still awaiting their targets, almost of all of which would be vital enemy targets that the air forces simply couldn’t target at this point following the disgraceful tactical failings of Rear Admiral Santino. Even with the emergency plan beginning to be put into effect, it turned to the battleships to take the forefront from the Carrier in this particular situation.

As it happened with the removal of Rear Admiral Santino, Harrington was the senior ranking naval officer present and as such was the de facto commanding officer of this combined fleet they had going. Slowly but surely all the pieces were being put into place. The enemies defensive infrastructure was being pounded into dust, the assault ships carrying Imperial Marines were gathering for the assault and in the cities and towns the population were rising up against their military rulers. Of course in the case of the latter if the Empire didn’t move quickly enough they would no doubt be brutally put down, and that was something that everyone in the Imperial Military wanted to avoid; to give them hope of support and then take it away was, distasteful, to say the least. Never the less Harrington had no intention of repeating the mistakes made, he wasn’t about to underestimate the enemy and wanted to give the ground troops the best possible situation to be marching into, that meant doing his best to shatter the enemies ability to mount an effective resistance before they even hit the beaches in a few days’ time. The fact that his command could hit virtually any target in Portugal whilst still being over a hundred and twenty nautical miles out to sea was humbling, and a stark reminder of the sheer capability of modern weapons, and a reminder of what might have to be faced by the Empire in years to come.

But right now the Empire was not on the defensive; they were on the offensive and meant business.

The force under his command consisted of his Flagship, HMS Von Grippen, as well as three other battleships; HMS Dauntless, HMS Colossus and HMS Resolute, all with the same formidable armament as their lead ship possessed. They were escorted by a substantial defensive escort, four Ardent Class Destroyers provided primary area defence whilst the eight Firefly-Class Frigates provided picket and early intercept point defence ability. They were also included in the combat air patrol radius of the carrier, providing them with additional protection in the event that they needed it. Strictly speaking he had more firepower at his disposal than the Carrier, especially now that the air wing had been decimated, but they both had differing roles and at this point his was two-fold. Aside from being tasked with providing cruise missile fire support he was also here in case anyone tried to interfere with the entire process. So far no one had, but no one wanted to make a mistake similar to that which had been made by Santino, if there was going to be a problem.

Of course this entire operation would substantially change the state of affairs in Europe from the Imperial point of view. With an entire country under their jurisdiction in the theater they could no long afford to deploy only token forces to the area, now they were going to have to substantially rethink the way the Empire dealt with Europe and perhaps more importantly the Mediterranean, even if Portugal itself wasn’t directly on the Mediterranean. For the past few years there had only been a minimal Imperial Naval presence in the Med, primarily either the Audacious Carrier Group or more recently the two Naval Squadrons stationed at Rhodes and Gibraltar. If what he had heard from the Admiralty was the case it sounded like an entire Mediterranean Fleet was going to be established, with at least one Carrier being specifically acquired from the EOL for the purpose, and a Portugal Station of the Imperial Atlantic Fleet the make-up of which was still unclear at this point, with suggestions even reaching as far as to the possibility of keeping his two battle divisions stationed out of Portugal. It would slash the number of battleships available to Home Fleet in half, but the Hi No Motons showed no signs of kicking off, so perhaps it could be risked, at least until more ships were commissioned to fill one gap or another.

This of course made him consider who would serve as the Portugal Stations first commanding officer. Given it was a subordinate of Atlantic Fleet it would almost certainly be a Rear Admiral billet, which put it above his current grade, but then he was due for promotion soon anyway. By tradition the position of its first commanding officer would have gone to Rear Admiral Santino, but as he had clearly shown his ineptness he would be lucky to escape with an Honourable Discharge once the King was done with him. That left it open for him, the next senior officer available, especially if his ships were chosen to remain.

It would certainly be an interesting posting. The Portugal Station would have to be ready for any number of eventualities. They would have to be ready to assist the rest of the Atlantic Fleet in a deployment anywhere across the area of operations, and would likewise also need to be ready to do the same thing with Mediterranean Fleet once it was constituted. Aside from joint operations with the rest of Atlantic Fleet it was also entirely likely that the Portugal Station task force would also become responsible for most operations in the far North Atlantic, particularly around the Empire of Banjamos and the British Isles that were not under the control of countries to which the Empire was currently allied. This combined with the Dutch presence in the Bering and North Seas would provide for an interesting tactical situation, as would any need to support the Empire’s main ally in the area, the Federation of Lacoze, although its stand-off with the Dutch had apparently cooled down in recent months much to the relief of everyone. The Empire still wasn’t convinced regarding the Dutch pretensions in the Pacific, but they were being kept under careful watch by the Squadron they had been able to pull on one of the Samoan islands.

“Sir, we have received our final reconnaissance photographs of our assigned targets, enemy ground units moving into position around the major cities to set up defensive positions,” Captain John Reynolds, his flag captain, reported formally. “Request permission to open fire.”

“Permission is granted, we’ve got work to do,” Harrington nodded with a smile. “Let’s be about it.”

Harrington smiled and watched out the viewport as the first of the missiles took to the sky. All told each ship would fire twenty-five missiles, putting over a hundred missiles into the sky together, each of which would fly straight to their target and hit the major enemy units moving into position, specifically anything of major threat or use. Large clusters of tanks were a prime target, as were any enemy headquarters that could be spotted and hit without causing civilian casualties, essential on this kind of mission which relied on the population feeling liberated. The sky was soon full of vapour trails as the missiles kicked themselves clear of their vertical launch cells and set off into the distance. One way or another the preparations for the landing were underway, now it was all down to the Marines.

[Terra Reborn]

Flight Lieutenant Stuart White, No. 495 Squadron, No. 128 Wing, No. 32 Group, Imperial Air Force
MH-53 Pavelow HAR.5, Somewhere over Portugal
Europe
Thursday 27th August, 0500hrs Local Time (2000hrs Imperial Capital Time (26/09/12, 0500hrs Zulu Time)

It had taken four days of hard fighting to wrest control of the air from the enemy who had made the Imperial forces pay for every fighter plane they took out of the skies, but it had been done, and that meant they could start trying to rescue the downed pilots. A pair of Pavelows, based out of IAF Gibraltar, after taking aboard a platoon and a sections of Imperial Rangers had flown north-west and began their penetration of Portugal. This was the moment that all of the downed pilots had been waiting for, when they turned their equipment on to make contact just before dawn they would be informed of the rescue mission and told to make it to an extraction point. The Pavelow would go to each extraction point that confirmed they were heading there and they would wait until the pilots arrived, or the LZ became too hot. The vast majority of the pilots had gone down in hilly or mountainous areas so Flt. Lt White and his compatriot serving as pilot of the other Pavelow were fairly confident they would avoid detection. Never the les aboard both aircraft each of the pairs of pilots and pairs of gunners were keeping a careful eye out as the Rangers sat in comparative silence.

The mission had been the brainchild of Captain Lady Standford, Viscountess Standford, who didn’t feel that the idea of leaving any number of pilots behind enemy lines for longer than was necessary, and once air superiority was attained she had given it the green light and would no doubt be watching it from the command centre at Devil’s Tower on Gibraltar. Obviously they wanted to get Crown Prince Arthur out safely but he would not be the only one they were looking for. Over the past few hours they had picked up a few of the pilots and were now circling around to start heading back south, most critically to pick up Arthur himself, he was the last pilot on their list mainly because his location was the most dangerous to pick up from, deep in the mountains which wasn’t going to be easy in the dark. But then the Empire’s search and rescue pilots were incredibly well trained and were more than capable of this kind of work, after all many Pavelow missions were carried our primarily in the dark, especially the occasional special forces operations that Pavelows supported.

The back of Flt. Lt. White’s Pavelow had the fewest rangers, the main platoon was aboard the other Pavelow whilst a single section was aboard his aircraft in order to provide immediate protection, the rest of the passengers aboard his aircraft were pilots, all tired and bloodied but all still alive. Never the less the pilots were as alert as anyone else, the kept their weapons close just like the rangers and the door gunners, no one wanted to have got rescued only to get shot down again. White’s attention was split between not crashing into the terrain they were flying low over and keeping an eye out for any sign of a threat. Whilst the enemy air force had been destroyed and the strikes had taken out the majority of the enemy emplaced SAMs the fact remained there might still be mobile SAM vehicles or even MANPADs which were still more than capable of taking down a helicopter if the pilot wasn’t paying attention or got careless, neither of which White had any intention of doing, not after hours of mission they had so far carried out.

They were being guided in by the co-pilot who was in contact with Lieutenant Von Karin who was at the landing zone that he had set up, no easy task given that the two Pavelows were completely blacked out for obvious operational concerns. Their night vision goggles were obviously a god-send and the only thing that was allowing them to operate so discreetly in unknown terrain. Looking out at the area around where he was White was able to fairly confidently identify the area and this was confirmed a few moments later when a flare was shot into the sky. It wasn’t ideal from an operational security point of view but it was the only way they could know they were in the right place. Besides, they would be out of the area before any hostile forces could arrive on station. With the last of their pilots in sight the morale was fairly high as White brought his Pavelow into a landing whilst the other assumed position as a gunship.

White eased his Pavelow onto the ground but kept his blades fully spooled up as the Imperial Rangers disembarked under the watchful eyes of the gunners and the already rescued pilots. The Rangers advanced quickly until they were able to find Lieutenant Von Karin, after a quick authentication exchange they escorted him back to the helicopter. As soon as the crew chief called that everyone was back aboard the aircraft White threw his aircraft into the air and to full throttle. Now that they had all of the downed pilots out safely the task was to get them safely back to Gibraltar as quickly as possible, not to mention that they had just enough fuel to make it back safely. Once they were out of enemy airspace they would be joined by a pair of Typhoon F.3 jets out of Gibraltar and escorted back, at the same time a refuelling aircraft would be in the general area just in case there was some sort of problem in flight that meant that they needed extra fuel, but no one really wanted to take on extra fuel, it was a waste of money and they would probably be alright to make it all the way back safely.

It was as they were approaching the coast that Lieutenant Von Karin came forward.

“Thanks for the pick-up, Flight Lieutenant,” Arthur said with a weary smile, like the rest he was tired, messy and bloodied, but he was smiling regardless. “Sooner than I was expecting. I figured that we’d be waiting until we were arse-deep in Imperial Marines. I’m surprised the King authorised a mission like this to pick us all up.”

“He didn’t, sir,” Flt. Lt. White replied with a smile as he glanced back. “From what I heard he was intending to launch a rescue mission once the Marines were on the ground, as you said, sir.”

“Then who authorised it?”

“Captain Alice Standford,” White replied.

“Wow, got some balls to do exactly what the King said not to do,” Arthur commented.

“Yea, but she recently got made a Viscountess, so I figure that she’s got some good will at the Fortress,” White replied wryly. “I also figure that someone will be able to put a good word in for her.”

“Ah, and would that someone be a certain Prince that managed to get his arse shot out of the sky?” Arthur grinned. “If so, I’ll be sure to put in a good word, besides given her personally commanding the destruction of the entire Portuguese Navy with a single Battlecruiser and a handful of frigates she’ll be very unlucky not to make flag rank, not even with this particular decision.”

“Fair enough, we’ll be back fairly soon, I’d get some rest sir.”

Arthur nodded and returned to the rear compartment and White turned his attention back to the flying. That was his first time speaking with any member of the Royal Family, much less the first in line to the throne. He supposed that he had expected them to be a lot more lofty, even though he was a home born Imperial from Anchorage. Instead he had been just like any other officer, fairly easy going and simply happy to be alive. He had understood the reasons why the rescue had been intended to take so long and that was something that White could respect, some royals would no doubt have expected to be plucked out straight away no matter how difficult or expensive it was. Arthur hadn’t been like that, rather he had been more than happy to wait until the Marines were deployed to get picked up. It was ironic, although his position as Crown Prince meant that such a rescue operation could have been justified, but it was a mission that could very well have been costly. It was a sign that Arthur would make an excellent King one day.

Soon enough they were approaching Gibraltar, they now had a pair of Typhoons escorting them in, and a few minutes later they had touched down on the hard standing at IAF Gibraltar where a medical team was waiting to take a look at the pilots to ensure. Captain Viscountess Standford was waiting for them as well. White watched as Arthur approached the gathering of personnel and saluted the senior officer.

“Welcome back to Imperial Soil, Your Royal Highness,” Standford said formally. “And the rest of you, good to see that you are all no worse for your ordeal.”

“Lieutenant, please, Ma’am, I’m on military service here,” Arthur replied. “Ballsy decision, Captain.”

“You could call it that,” Standford grinned. “I wanted to take one of the complications out of the minds of our planners, having a dozen pilots behind enemy lines is quite a large complication.”

“Fair point, I’m sure it’ll be appreciated,” Arthur grinned. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a phone free, I want to surprise my father.”

“I suppose it’s better for you to break it to him than me,” Standford smiled, reaching to an aide who passed her a sat phone. “Just do me a favour and give me a hand here, I don’t particularly want to go down in history as the woman who became and lost Viscountess in the
same two weeks.”

Arthur nodded as he took the phone and walked a few steps away from the group, rang the appropriate number and placed it to his ear. It was only a few moments before he was put to the switchboard at the Von Karin Fortress, requested to be put through to the King and explained who he was. The operator didn’t waste any time before putting him through.

“King’s Office, Steward McGuiness,”

“It’s Arthur, Mac, put my father on,” Arthur replied with a grin. “Thanks.”

There was a short pause.

“Arthur, that you?” The King asked a few moments later.

“It’s me, Dad, I’m at IAF Gibraltar,” Arthur replied.

“How the blazes did you get there?” Walker questioned. “Are the other pilots with you?”

“Yes, we were rescued by a pair of Pavelows all night,” Arthur replied. “Captain Standford authorised a rescue mission late last night, ran it through the Gibraltar Operations Room.”

“I specifically ordered to hold off on the rescue,” Walker said, and Arthur could hear the scowl. “Any casualties.”

“Totally without complications,” Arthur reported. “Go easy on her, Dad, she got us out without losing any Imperial lives, that’s pretty impressive.”

“Her entire bloody career is impressive, this is just the latest in a long line,” Walker commented. “We’ll talk about it more when we get back, I’ll send a plane for you and the other pilots to bring you back to Apilonia, you’ve all earned a rest.”

[Terra Reborn]

His Royal Highness Prince Arthur, Crown Prince of Apilonia, KAE DSC
IAF Karin, Karin City, Alaska
Northern Territories, The Apilonian Empire
Friday 28th August 2012, 2100hrs Local Times (2100hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0600hrs Zulu Time (29/09/12)

The Royal Jet, not as large as the like of Imperial One but one of a number of smaller ones maintained for the use of the rest of the Royal Family, landed smoothly on the main runway of IAF Karin, which over the past few years had grown to be one of the larger air force stations in the Empire. Whilst Arthur would personally have preferred to stay out on the Enterprise, even in some sort of staff supporting role he understood exactly why the MoD and the King had been so eager to get him back to the Empire as soon as was possible following a medical and debriefing in Gibraltar to ensure that he was none the worse for wear following his ordeal on the ground. He had made a point of ensuring that all the other pilots were on the flight as well, they deserved to get back to their families as much as he did, and it wasn’t like the Enterprise had enough planes left to let them fly, and had no real need for additional staffers now that the navy’s role in this operation was being winded down, for the most part it was an army and marine operation at this point.

The wind was blowing powerfully across the Imperial Air Force station as Arthur stepped down from the Blackhawk to find eight senior officers from the base staff, including Group Captain Thomas Palmer, the base commander. All eight of them wore IAF issue officer’s greatcoats for warmth against the wind that was blowing across the state on this characteristically cold day. Arthur resisted the urge to mention that it could be a whole hell of a lot colder, and given that it wasn’t snowing they should be grateful, although he personally preferred the cold to the temperature he had been in during his stint in Portugal. He did returned the salute of the Group Captain who had sharply offered one as soon as he had stepped down from the jet, respecting his position as Crown Prince and not his military rank. At the same time he seemed particularly interested in getting the team of medics standing inconspicuously around nearby to be able to take a quick look over the Prince, who promptly refused insisting that he would be checked out once he was back in the Fortress, and pointed out that he had already been seen at Gibraltar. The Group Captain relented once he saw a sizable entourage making its way across the asphalt towards them

The entourage was dominated by the distinctive black greatcoats, with yellow lapels, of the Von Karin Guard, and the figure at the centre was unmistakable, he was after all the most well-known man in the entire Empire, he was after all the King. Group Captain Palmer and his staff turned sharply and snapped to attention as their monarch approached and fired off crisp salutes, a gesture that Arthur and his fellow rescued pilots matched, they were in uniform after all. The King looked around wryly at all of this before returning the salute himself and dismissing the majority of the group with a nod, they had done their job now. The rest of the pilots left as well. The Von Karin Guard spread out to create a perimeter as the King approached his son, only now revealing the shorter woman who had been out of sight behind him.

“Arthur!” Alice exclaimed gleefully as she ran ahead of the King to embrace her lover and fiancé in a fierce hug, the King simply stood back and watched. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I wasn’t sure that I’d make it out myself,” Arthur replied with a slight smile as Alice buried her head into his neck. “I’m just glad to be home.”

“And we’re glad to have you back,” Walker said with a grin as the two young lovers separated. “We’ve been very lucky.”

“Yes we have,” Arthur agreed. “I guess this rules out me flying again?”

“As a duty station, yes,” Walker replied with a sad nod. “We’ll have to find you something else to do, or retire you from the service entirely, you’d have to be thinking about that anyway, your official duties are going to start taking priority soon enough.”

“I had been hoping to avoid that, but we’ll need to talk about it at some point,” Arthur nodded. “How are things going over there?”

“The airstrikes are continuing, we are looking to start getting the Marines ashore by Monday,” Walker replied. “By then we should have our division ready in Gibraltar to deploy.”

“That’s good news,” Arthur nodded. “Now what about Captain Standford?”

“You mean Rear Admiral Standford, don’t you?” Walker replied with a slight smile. “I decided that between her leadership in the initial naval campaign, and the fact that she got all you chaps out of the country , deserved not only a peerage but sped up promotion to the Admiralty, she’s young and she’ll spend a long time as a Rear Admiral, but somehow I doubt that will be a problem for her.”

“She’s only been a Captain for a few years,” Arthur frowned. “Isn’t that kind of progression unprecedented, much less two full ranks.”

“Perhaps, but if I’ve got a choice between a young hotshot like Standford and officers like Santino who are either from some Navy we absorbed, and not the best part of that navy either) or someone with more blue blood than common sense, I’ll take Standford every day,” Walker reasoned. “If I have my way we’ll be seeing a lot more promotions, and we’ll get a leadership cadre with the drive and determination we’ll need in an uncertain future.”

“You have a fair point, Father,” Arthur nodded with a smile. “Shall we get going, it’s frightfully cold out here and if those clouds don’t go the other way, I suspect it’s going to start snowing.”

Major John Graves, Zero-Four Commando, 1 Commando Brigade, Imperial Marines
Imperial Marine Assault Force, Off Portimão, Portugal
European Theater of Operations
Monday 3rd September 2012, 0700hrs Local Time (2200hrs Imperial Capital Time (02/10/12), 0700hrs Zulu Time)

For the second time in a year, Major John Graves found himself taking part in a dawn raid, the stuff that the legends of the Imperial Marines were made out of. It was a calm morning as twelve Sea King Commando helicopters took to the skies from the deck of HMS Mediterranean carrying two Close Combat Companies of Imperial Marines from Zero-Four Command, approximately half the combat troops, once all were airborne they began to make their way towards Portugal, accompanied by six Lynx AH7 light attack helicopters outfitted with two 20mm cannons, two 70mm rocket pods and eight TOW anti-tank guided missiles. The rest, including the Commando’s executive officer, Major Gravs, were in Mk. 10 Landing Craft Utility vessels that were speeding towards the beach. This first wave of Commandos would be the first Imperial forces to hit the country and would be fast roping straight into the city itself. The assault squadrons from the pair of Albion Class Landing Platform Docks would be assaulting the beaches on either side of the city and securing the perimeter in order to catch hostiles that might try and escape once they realised that the Empire was coming for them. They were joined by their comrades from 03 Commando aboard HMS Atlantica and between them would put over three thousand troops ashore at Portimão.

Portimão had been chosen for a very specific reason. It was on the south coast where the enemies defences were the lightest, it was also a small city with only forty thousand or so inhabitants, in either case it not only had an ideally set up area to bring in more formal landing and support ships but it had a small airport capable of airlifting in the infantry divisions that were mustering at Gibraltar.

The ride in was quiet, it always was. There was none of the banter and the cockiness that reigned in the build-up to an operation, once they were on the way all that fell by the wayside and it went almost totally silent as the Commandos checked all of their equipment one last time, said prayers to their god if they believed and generally prepared themselves mentally for the fight that they were about to find themselves embroiled in, whether they agreed with the intervention or not they were Imperial Marines and they had a duty to fight for the causes of the Empire and that was what they fully intended to do. Major John Graves, commanding the Zero-Four Commando in-field whilst the Lt. Colonel remained aboard the ship, checked his weapon; an L90A1 assault rifle (the Imperial designation for the XM8 Carbine), one last time before quickly checking all the pouches of his of PLCE which was currently in the assault order configuration; only the essentials as they could stock up with more extensive fighting order once they had secured the area; the PLCE webbing, like his camouflage gear was in the style of the new multi-terrain pattern which had begun to replace the older Disruptive Pattern Material.

As they reached the beach Major Graves was amongst the first to jump into the low surf and begin to wade ashore. They were not facing any enemy fire yet but this was a nerve-wracking moment none the less, until they were set up on the beach they would be vulnerable to an attack. As the Marines took positions just above the waves Graves watched as the startled civilians who had been on the beach, thankfully comparatively few, began to scarper away in panic at the sight of heavily armed Imperial Marines storming ashore. Whilst the troops that Graves had joined were technically part of the assault squadrons and not 04 Commando the fact that Lt. Colonel Gardner maintained de facto command over all Marine forces made him the effective XO of them as well. In either case it had been decided that Graves presence would be needed with those storming ashore, not those that had the easier job of fast-roping into combat now that it had become clear that the there was not going to be any immediate resistance that would threaten the helicopters.

Now that the vast bulk of the squadrons attached to 04 Commando were ashore they began to advance up the beach and into the town, their weapons ready but not being overly aggressive, they didn’t want to alienate anyone here. Their ultimate objective was Portimão Airport, some five and a half kilometres to the North West, which once secure would serve as the means by which the rest of the Imperial Invasion force could be brought in. Standing between them and that objective was an entire city, hopefully the vast majority of them would not actively resist, or even embrace their liberators, but there was known to be a battalion of troops operating out of a barracks on the outskirts of the city who would no doubt be able to figure out exactly where the Imperials were heading. The objective here was not to secure the city, it was to secure the airport, the city could be secured at a later date, but they had to move across the city to make it. It was damn unfortunate that mobile surface to air missiles had been spotted around the airport, otherwise they could have just airdropped troops onto the airport, now they had to slog five kilometres across potentially dangerous country.

As the troop he was with made it up to a low wall Graves took a knee as the rest of the troop scanned the immediate area.

“Charlie Zero Four Sunray Major, this is Charlie Zero Four Sunray Minor, all troops are ashore and advancing inland, no resistance so far,” Graves reported into the comm. “Request further instructions, Over.”

“Sunray Minor, Sunray Major, continue your advance.”

[Terra Reborn]

His Majesty King Walker I of Apilonia and Her Imperial Territories
The Von Karin Fortress, Karin City, Alaska
Northern Territories of the Apilonian Empire
Monday 3rd September 2012, 2100hrs Local Times (2100hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0600hrs Zulu Time (29/09/12)

“The Marines are ashore and have seized the southern coast, Sire,” Admiral of the Fleet Sir Thomas Kittinger, Chief of the Defence Staff, reported as he gestured to the large strategic display on the far wall which was zoomed in on Portugal. “We’ve begin to ferry in the 1st Division from Gibraltar, where they had been forward deployed, enemy resistance has been minimal, anyone silly enough to come out into the open and advance on our troops was dealt with by the Battleships we’ve got down there and their cruise missiles.”

Walker leaned back in his chair and considered the situation. So far things were going as well as could be hoped, the Marines had secured their beachhead and thousands more troops would be entering the combat zone within the next twenty-four hours. Of course given the surprises that the Portuguese had managed to throw their way recently Walker of all people was not willing to assume that nothing further would occur to upset the delicate balancing act that was going on here. Twenty thousand combat troops, plus support, was a good start and would be able to do a great deal, but the fact remained that they would be outnumbered. The general hope was that between the superior fire support assets available to the Imperial Military, and the hoped-for uprising of the Portuguese population, that the enemy troops would surrender, defect or simply be incapable of offering effective resistance. For that matter Walker had heard little talk of the popular uprisings status.

“Alright, what’s going on there from the civilian point of view,” Walker questioned. “Is it happening?”

“All indications are that there are protests across the country, there is active resistance to the Portuguese Government where our troops are located, seems that their presence is giving them the balls they need to take the next step,” Sir Sebastian Cross, Director of the Imperial Intelligence Directorate (more commonly known as Imperial Intelligence), replied. “This is more prevalent in the coastal regions where the locals have been able to see our ships for the past few weeks.”

“We need to keep our efforts to ensure that this goes the way we want it,” Sir Thomas commented. “That means that we have to be very careful about what we do, we are here to liberate the people, if we start hitting questionable targets, we’ll be in for a rough time if we are wrong.”

“So we are pretty much relying on the people kicking the enemy out of the city, if we have to go street fighting it’s going to get messy,” General Sir Anthony Brewis, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, said wryly. “That is something that I want to avoid.”

“Alright, I want us operating on the tightest rules of engagement you can put us on without an unacceptable risk to our troops,” Walker instructed. “Make sure that everyone knows exactly what is going on here, the last thing I want is some young private getting frustrated because he doesn’t know what’s going on and does something stupid.”

The gathered military personnel nodded, they knew that all too often in a combat situation it was not the high command that resulted in a mission going wrong (although it was by no means unheard off), instead it was some young officer or enlisted man on the ground who made a mistake that escalated an already dangerous situation to new heights. Everyone wanted to avoid any escalation here, both to avoid Imperial casualties, and to ensure that the operation went off without any further problems. There had already been enough mistakes, more were not needed.

“Alright, now Parliament is already crawling up my arse to find out what the hell went wrong, more specifically how in gods name were these people able to get weapons of that calibre, have such infrastructure and not to mention access to top secret information,” Walker commented after a few moments, although he was a strong monarch and ultimately had the final say (and unlike some constitutional monarchs (which the Empire technically wasn’t), this was actually exercised against Parliament on a fairly regular basis ) and had a substantial involvement into day-to-day workings, the fact remained that the Empire had an elected Parliament and they had the right to wonder what the hell was going on. “Now the only explanation I can think of is that they had a man on the inside. I need now remind you all that this would be the second highly placed traitor in a year, I want this bastard found, so I can hang him personally from the front of the Fortress.”

The Right Honourable David Warren, Member of Parliament for Kodiak, and Prime Minister of the Apilonian Empire shifted uncomfortably.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that we’ve got a traitor, sire, but I don’t think we should be starting a witch-hunt here,” Warren commented with a sigh. “We need to work out who is most likely to have both the access and a grievance with either the Empire as a whole, or yourself, Sire.”

“Not necessarily,” Sir Sebastian commented. “Remember the last one was literally some random, mid-level civil servant, with the right connections such an individual could get the information.”

“So it could be anyone who has worked for the government for more than a few years,” Warren scowled. “God let us be grateful for Imperial Intelligence.”

“Treason is a difficult matter to defend against, it is the opposite of an external threat and thus Imperial Intelligence is at a much weaker position in dealing with it, bear in mind that the majority of our agencies are faced outwards,” Sir Sebastian replied. “This is a job for Five, and I want to issue kill orders if need be, we don’t need word of another traitor getting out to the public, the damage it could do to civilian morale would be atrocious.”

“A Kill Order, on Imperial Citizens, have you gone insane?” Warren frowned.

“If they are working against the best interests of the Empire, I’d say that they are no longer Imperial Citizens,” Sir Sebastian stated.

“That’s a dangerous path to go down, Director,” Warren commented ominously. “And if we simply kill them it doesn’t give us anything to throw to the public as our response to the terrorist attacks.”

“You mean the invasion of an entire country isn’t reaction enough?” Sir Sebastian said sharply. “Besides, just because they are dead doesn’t mean we can’t use them. We just say they were resisting arrest, the fact that we never gave them the option of surrendering is beside the point.”

“And prey tell how you intend to shoot dead one or more civilians without at least one witness being able to ascertain that there was no surrender order?”

Sir Sebastian was about to reply when Walker slammed his fist down on the table.

“Enough!” He snapped. “We are not a bunch of thugs planning the murder of a nuisance. This man, or men, are clear and present dangers to this Empire and I am not about to start apologising for keeping it safe. Kill Orders approved, Director.”

Sir Sebastian nodded.

“We’ll get on it, but it’s going to take a while to find this guy, remember that this bastard managed to hide from the last round of suspicion with the last guy,” He commented. “Indeed I hope that once we totally screw over his Portuguese backers he’ll panic and try to go to ground, and in the process slip up somewhere, then we’ll have the bastard.”

“Do what you have to do, Sir Sebastian,” Walker said grimly. “Earl Valdez, I want the campaign wrapped up quickly, but carefully, the longer this takes the more chance there is of a fuck-up. Alright people, let’s get on with it.”