The Night when the sky fell [P/MT|closed]

[Arthurista]

Blackdon, Afalia

The Arthuristan fleet may take a while to arrive, but everything that could be airlifted are arriving en masse. The DMI and Para-Commando teams were the first to set foot in Afalia and immediately began planning to train their hosts' military. With them arrived crates-full of weapons of every sort. The AK-21 6.5mm assault rifle, like all Kalashnikov-based designs, is especially suited to the hastily-mustered conscripts, as are other cheap and handy weapons such as 81mm mortars and RPG-7 rocket launchers, taken out of 60 years' worth of 'invasion storage' in Arthuristan bunkers and freighted halfway across the world.

Guided missiles, too, were transported in huge numbers. Shark top-attack ATGM and Mistral MANPAD are perfect for small commando or guerilla teams to harass the enemy, while S-300 and S-400 missiles provide valuable air-defence capability. The most important, however, were the anti-ship missiles: medium ranged Perseus, long ranged ACM-1C Cerberus and hypersonic ACM-3 Draco. In fact, the Kingdom was being supplied with the same distributed coastal-defence network used by the People's Navy to defend its own island. The missiles, together with small and highly mobile AESA search and fire control radars and C4I systems, were loaded onto the backs of modified local trucks and sited in camouflaged locations along the coast, ready to spring into action and mete out a serious bloody nose to any invasion attempt.

[Virana]

Majestic Troop
SEAL Team 3
Aboard Navy CV-22 Ospreys
Approaching international airport in Blackdon

---

"We're going to come and help train Afalians, and we don't even know what weapons they use yet?!" Blaire complained as he looked at his men.

No one replied. It was a tense situation in the tiltrotor, SEALs dropping into a country they'd never been in to train locals they'd never heard of. They were to land in the airport—apparently there were no usable airbases in the area—and would be escorted to the facility where they were to train Afalian conscripts the basics of military operations. Other countries were taking part too, but there wasn't much time. Blaire estimated that the Titianician fleet would arrive within roughly a couple weeks—not nearly enough time to adequately train professional military personnel. But these guys were conscripts after all.

He remembered back to Acaema. After terrorist bombings in Emmeria's financial and economic center, Chaleur, on July 1, 2000 (just six days before Emmeria's independence day) which killed nearly 3,000 people, the United Republic government traced the terrorists to have been funded by Acaema's intelligence agency. Acaema at the time was a failing nation; although it maintained a powerful military, it had long since fallen victim to a bloody civil war that had lasted for five years up until that point. Intelligence revealed that the military had begun using chemical weapons on the local population—civilians—and the two events had brought the prospect of Emmerian intervention to light.

The Emmerians came in as invaders, and weren't very popular with the Acaeman locals. Acaema had been an Emmerian colony which received its independence in 1949 after World War II, and the Acaeman population still hated their former Emmerian "imperialist overlords". During the 2000 invasion all the fragmented rebels fought alongside each other against these invaders, a unique display of unity not seen in the country for years. Yet it wasn't enough. Two weeks of tantalizingly fierce airstrikes from URAF and URN fighters had worn down the military severely. Acaema's military, its government, its entire infrastructure fell within four days once the invading ground forces arrived.

The next twelve years of occupation were littered with unconventional warfare—Acaeman terrorists fighting Emmerian forces. As the Emmerians rebuilt the government and trained local security forces to fight for themselves, the war began to shape U.R. doctrine and thinking. Blaire had been a part of it all; he decided to become a SEAL in 2004 and served two tours in Acaema. During that time he was part of countless classified special operations as part of one of the most elite forces in the world. His unit went on numerous joint patrols with Acaema National Army troops, who were part of the reformed Emmerian-backed Acaema government. He'd helped train them. One man stood out—a border police officer in the Manchada Province (the most volatile of all six) by the name of Hashim Bazi. Bazi was first spotted during a weapons qualification exercise because he was the only one whose finger was off the trigger—standard procedure is to keep the finger off the trigger and out of the trigger guard unless intending to fire the weapon, and he was the one guy who maintained this proper trigger discipline.

Bazi became a stud amidst the vastly underperforming Acaeman security force, so much so that during his second tour, Blaire and his team brought with them a number of gifts for the man. Bazi received a fully modernized Spreewerkian-style AK rifle (chambered in the same 7.62x39mm round that the insurgents used), a Multicam tactical baseball cap, and new Berkeley XRAY Tactical shades. Right now Bazi is considered to be the only effective border police commander in the Manchada province by the Acaeman government.

For Blaire, this was more of the same. However this time he wasn't dropping into a third-world country tarnished by years of internecine warfare. This time, he was going into a fledgeling democracy, a beautiful country with a striking landscape and peaceful people. A free nation that was being threatened by mindless foreign imperialist oppressors whose only single goal was self-interest. He understood fully that what he did here wouldn't just help these people stay safe from terrorists. What he did here would keep them from becoming slaves. Keep their beautiful country from becoming a hellish farmland, a sector for industrial and agricultural production for one of the most brutally horrifying dictatorships in the world.

He couldn't give these people freedom, but he would give them the tools and the know-how they needed to acquire it.

---

The pilot pushed the PTT button, attempting to contact the airport's air traffic control.

"Air traffic control, this is Emmerian Kilo 4-2, requesting permission to land, over."

---

Joint Base Archie Gray
Nearby Hollyville, Coral
United Republic of Emmeria

---

For the last four days, the 7th Mechanized Brigade Combat Team (MBCT) of the U.R. Army had been preparing for this. It was a standard contingency protocol; these rapid response mechanized brigades could be deployed fully in as little as 96 hours. At least 300,000 troops were planned for deployment, but mobilizing a force that large could take months. Smaller mechanized combined-arms brigades such as the 7th MBCT only numbered around 3,000-4,000 personnel, but as the basic unit of maneuver in the U.R. Army, they could deliver an initial punch, fast.

The order to mobilize had come from all the way up the flagpole, the President himself. They'd all been briefed, they had all seen the speeches on YouTube and the news, so they knew what was going on. The 7th MBCT was one of the mechanized brigades in the available force pool who had just reached the end of its cycle for deployment readiness. Personnel of the brigade had been preparing for unknown contingency operations for 12-18 months before that as per standard Army Force Generation (ARFORGEN) deployment cycle.

The brigade was outfitted with the latest Emmerian equipment. They wore MPBAS body armor and WRETCH combat helmets in a DMC-OCIE/PPE camouflage scheme with DMC-Transitional helmet covers and flame-resistant uniforms. They looked impressive with the black Berkeley XRAY Tactical ballistic sunglasses and tan HEATRAY FR assault gloves as they carried their equipment to and fro to load into the C-17 Globemaster IIIs that sat on the tarmac. A vast array of vehicles with differing purposes, all based on the same chassis, drove towards their designated aircraft.

Among the men present was young PFC Abdullah Nasim, an Acaema veteran from Corsa. The man was carrying the oversized rucksack like the rest of his teammates around him, walking in a single-file line to their jet. This time he wouldn't be the lowly grunt on his first deployment; now he was the veteran, the man that other recruits fresh out of basic training looked up to.

He walked behind one of his best friends from his last deployment. CPL Alex Salazar from Santa Fe had been like the brother he'd never had. They were stuck together like superglue, a bond created from being foxhole buddies, brothers-in-arms.

Nasim hummed the tune of Glowing Victory, the Emmerian national anthem, singing the words in his head.

O'er azure skies
And emerald plains
Where freedom and justice prevail
With courage and strength
We will fight to the end
For liberty in our land.

His mind's eye thought back to his time in Acaema, and the horrors he'd seen there. Once his team had descended on an insurgent outpost, received fire from a building in the distance, and called in an airstrike. During battle damage assessment they found that, aside from two terrorists, they were responsible for the deaths of fifty-plus primary schoolchildren. He himself had nearly dropped gun down and retired right then and there, had it not been for CPL Salazar's words that had kept him going.

But he didn't want to kill more civilians.

And during the fight
The bombs lit the night
As we faced the king of despair
But in the red glare
Cannons bursting the air
We saw our flag had survived.

Suffering in Acaema was intense. The terrorists frequently hid in ambiguous villages in the northern mountainous areas of Acaema, so commanders decided it was a good idea to set up checkpoints in the passes in the mountains to oversee the village and keep an eye on whoever came in or out.

They forgot that it was winter.

Nasim thought back to the hellish time he had watching the village from the outpost. It was so cold there that, in the midst of all the shivering, it was difficult to properly shoulder his weapon. He remembered the pain he went through on each trigger pull, each time he shot a man, that feeling of doubt—was that man innocent? What about his family? Are they going to be okay?

Yet at the same time there was that voice in his head justifying it. They're terrorists, it said. If you don't kill them, they'll kill you and your family. That thought always kept him going—that his family would be in danger. But sometimes he did have that doubt. How was his family in danger? Would these terrorists, living in the harshest of environments, ever be able to make their way back to the homeland like they did on 7/1/2000?

At the end of the day
Our banner gallantly
Streamed o'er the land of the free
And O the joy
As we solemnly progressed
From our glowing victory.

He snapped himself out of the trance. He remembered his therapist, the same one who had diagnosed him with PTSD, warned him not to think about his experiences when he was stressed. The mind would associate the stress to the harsh traumatic experience and and everything wold spiral downhill. He just had to keep his focus, that was all. Take a break from it, rather than torturing his mind with what he's seen.

His mind was focused on the mission now. A number of C-17 Globemasters sat on the tarmac in front of him, loading personnel and vehicles, supplies and weapons, munitions and ordnance. The weight of the rucksack—which contained everything he'd need—pulled back on him as he took a deep breath and pulled through it. He continued walking in the line of troops entering the C-17, looking up at the massive, dull gray 130-ton behemoth whose shadow engulfed them, relieving him from the morning sun.

As they boarded he dropped his equipment into the rack and took his seat in the plane. Air Force wasn't exactly the world's most luxurious airline. "All passengers on board, we are good for takeoff," said the pilot over the intercom. He took a deep breath and removed his sunglasses, looking beside him at CPL Salazar.

"You ready Salazar?" he said.

"Hoo-ah, my brother."

Despite their oppression
We will go undaunted
Never going down in vain
With courage and strength
We will fight to the end
For liberty in our land.

The C-17s sprung to life, one-by-one taxiing to the runway and racing down it and into the air. Their plain gray paint scheme, lack of windows, and the words "U.R. AIR FORCE" written in the most militaristic of fonts at the front served to practically ensure that anyone watching them would know they were military.

With a ferocious roar they took to the air with courage and valiance, a fury that could not be matched by any other. The brilliant wrath of a nation in peril. The wrath of Emmeria. The wrath... of freedom.

Operation Freedom's Fury was a go.

[The IASM]

"Industry, Efficiency, Conquest"

---

To: All who dare
From: The Hand of the Ditorate- Ditor Jack Lazin the 1st

Subject:…
Encryption level: Public Low

---

Death, war, conflict are the things that man is programmed to hate and dislike to beyond oblivion. However the only reason why you value human rights, freedom and liberty due the the apparent media feed to you and your children and your children's children. The media is not freedom it is oppression of though due to you not thinking for yourself. "this happened" it might say so you believe it however it that might be a lie. They show oppression that could be freedom, they are biased as the state and only the state can correct that.

All of you united in joyful apparent freedom and enlightenment to destroy a oppressive autocratic state that wants to enslave us all. That is your opinion on the matter which you were taught to believe as a child. You are a pawn in a greater game, a cog in a rolling machine, a ant in a hive. You are weak on your own so you unite yet you are still weak why you are not united. You try to combat a enemy when realistically your apparent allies could backstab you in mere seconds and take Afalia for themselves. You unity is a weakness, a alliance so fragile it shall not stand any more if even the slightest of descent of morality and fear will distort your eyes as you decent once again into war.

I am no god just, neither am I human , I am a machine efficient and effective. The democratic ideals that you were founded on are autocratic as you or I. Nothing is wrong or right generally only to the people who are seeing it. We are only acting on logical actions and of kindness as we are only creating food for several million starving men, women and children. Why should you stop a act of humanity when you stand for it? Your spirit is lost in a world of varying cultures and ideals, we only stand on the global extreme. We only wish to be left in isolation and peace however our people stave in the streets, their death is brutal as it is painful were you are stopping the survival of millions. What is preferable the deaths 'freedom' or the death of a nation.

Your sincerely Ditor Jack Lazin the Ultimate.

[Afalia]

Captain, at least that was his new rank, Quentin Lennings had sat at the docks of Blackdon for a couple of days now allowing boats to land. However now the most important area was the airports, and that was where Captain Lennings sat today, guiding planes in, guarding and monitoring the skies, waiting at Blackdon International for the planes carrying troops, weapons and many other things to arrive.

He wasn't a newly trained conscript, he'd been in the security force for a few years and he knew his stuff well. Now with the 50 million new conscripted troops in the armed forces Lennings had been immediately promoted to a captain, in charge of over 100 of these new conscripts.

Alongside when the soldiers arrived from abroad Lennings' first duty would be to help train the new conscripts. That was the most important thing for the foreign forces to do as well. It was later today when the chief of the defence staff and national security team would come together at the main Blackdon base, which had been massively expanded in the last few days out into the open countryside.

There the training would begin and a plan would be co-ordinated.

Lennings knew that someone from the foreign forces would probably be appointed supreme commander. He didn't like the fact that Afalia couldn't stand up for itself, but he knew after this things would be different, especially if many lives were lost.

Across the radio a voice sounded, 'Air traffic control, this Emmerian Kilo 4-2 requesting permission to land, over.'

Lennings flicked a few buttons and responded, 'Emmerian Kilo 4-2 this is air traffic control, you are cleared to land on runway 6, repeat you are cleared to land on runway 6. Over.'

Lennings looked up and looked at the massive plane approaching the peaceful land below. He wondered if the Ditor had not only started this war just as a pre-text to get the ICE involved.

But it was unlikely, and for once Lennings didn't care. He just cared about ending the war quickly with as little loss as possible and peace being returned. His son had been conscripted, a young graduate just out of university. He was worried, so was his wife, but something inside Lennings told him his son would be safe.

As the military planes began taking on and off, ferrying troops and a whole lot more back and forth, Lennings began mentally preparing a plan for attacking IASM troops and defending Afalia should they invade on the ground.

[Afalia]

(Image)

"Industry, Efficiency, Conquest"

---

To: All who dare
From: The Hand of the Ditorate- Ditor Jack Lazin the 1st

Subject:…
Encryption level: Public Low

---

Death, war, conflict are the things that man is programmed to hate and dislike to beyond oblivion. However the only reason why you value human rights, freedom and liberty due the the apparent media feed to you and your children and your children's children. The media is not freedom it is oppression of though due to you not thinking for yourself. "this happened" it might say so you believe it however it that might be a lie. They show oppression that could be freedom, they are biased as the state and only the state can correct that.

All of you united in joyful apparent freedom and enlightenment to destroy a oppressive autocratic state that wants to enslave us all. That is your opinion on the matter which you were taught to believe as a child. You are a pawn in a greater game, a cog in a rolling machine, a ant in a hive. You are weak on your own so you unite yet you are still weak why you are not united. You try to combat a enemy when realistically your apparent allies could backstab you in mere seconds and take Afalia for themselves. You unity is a weakness, a alliance so fragile it shall not stand any more if even the slightest of descent of morality and fear will distort your eyes as you decent once again into war.

I am no god just, neither am I human , I am a machine efficient and effective. The democratic ideals that you were founded on are autocratic as you or I. Nothing is wrong or right generally only to the people who are seeing it. We are only acting on logical actions and of kindness as we are only creating food for several million starving men, women and children. Why should you stop a act of humanity when you stand for it? Your spirit is lost in a world of varying cultures and ideals, we only stand on the global extreme. We only wish to be left in isolation and peace however our people stave in the streets, their death is brutal as it is painful were you are stopping the survival of millions. What is preferable the deaths 'freedom' or the death of a nation.

Your sincerely Ditor Jack Lazin the Ultimate.

To: Jacky-boy Lazin, Lord of Dance, Prince of Underwear,
From: Every Citizen of Afalia

Subject: Your Letter
Encryption level: Public

---

Dear Jacky-boy,

With regards to your recent letter we wish to report that we had a good time reading it. Not only did the reading make excellent material for satirists across the country, but some other parts were truly too shocking to be true. Your slogan 'Industry, efficiency, conquest', was particularly ironic considering for all your supposed efficiency and industry you are needing to invade a country in order to have enough food.

As to the first paragraph where you somehow say oppression can be freedom and then create a little love poem for the state, no one really understood what was being said but it sounds to us rather like a conspiracy theory. If you're planning on appealing to citizens of this country then acting like a crazy is not the best way to do it.

As to the second paragraph again we did not understand its contents, but we must point out that this is a country of individualists. The state is good when it helps people and serves the people. But when you pervert that purpose you will encounter a good deal of no good.

As to the final paragraph we must first begin by thanking you for confirming our suspicions. For sometime now rumours have been going round that you were partly made of machine and our intelligence agencies did find intelligence that suggested a shocking secret concerning you. However without further confirmation we could not be sure. But today we can be sure, because of your own confirmation that you are part machine, we now know that you, Jacky-boy, have only got one ball.

The rest of your final paragraph was met with much disgust. Despite contradicting yourselves a number of times, we have only this to say. If your people were starving, ask for aid, ask for food. Yet instead you plan on killing and enslaving billions of people in order to feed the ones you allowed to starve to death. Afalians will not stand for it. Asking an Afalian to give up his freedom will always be met with the same answer, 'No'. And if you attempt to destroy our country we will stop at nothing to defend it.

Yours sincerely,

The People of Afalia

[Arthurista]

(Image)

"Industry, Efficiency, Conquest"

---

To: All who dare
From: The Hand of the Ditorate- Ditor Jack Lazin the 1st

Subject:…
Encryption level: Public Low

---

Death, war, conflict are the things that man is programmed to hate and dislike to beyond oblivion. However the only reason why you value human rights, freedom and liberty due the the apparent media feed to you and your children and your children's children. The media is not freedom it is oppression of though due to you not thinking for yourself. "this happened" it might say so you believe it however it that might be a lie. They show oppression that could be freedom, they are biased as the state and only the state can correct that.

All of you united in joyful apparent freedom and enlightenment to destroy a oppressive autocratic state that wants to enslave us all. That is your opinion on the matter which you were taught to believe as a child. You are a pawn in a greater game, a cog in a rolling machine, a ant in a hive. You are weak on your own so you unite yet you are still weak why you are not united. You try to combat a enemy when realistically your apparent allies could backstab you in mere seconds and take Afalia for themselves. You unity is a weakness, a alliance so fragile it shall not stand any more if even the slightest of descent of morality and fear will distort your eyes as you decent once again into war.

I am no god just, neither am I human , I am a machine efficient and effective. The democratic ideals that you were founded on are autocratic as you or I. Nothing is wrong or right generally only to the people who are seeing it. We are only acting on logical actions and of kindness as we are only creating food for several million starving men, women and children. Why should you stop a act of humanity when you stand for it? Your spirit is lost in a world of varying cultures and ideals, we only stand on the global extreme. We only wish to be left in isolation and peace however our people stave in the streets, their death is brutal as it is painful were you are stopping the survival of millions. What is preferable the deaths 'freedom' or the death of a nation.

Your sincerely Ditor Jack Lazin the Ultimate.

TO: Office of the "Ditor", IASM
FROM: Foreign Ministry, People's Republic of Arthurista

Sir,

I refer to your recent communique to parties currently aligned with Afalia against your attempt at highway robbery on an international scale. After due consideration, the government of the People's Republic has decided upon a suitable reply, as follows:

"Sod off, Baldrick!"

I have the honour to be, with high consideration, Sir, Your obedient servant.

Valerie Chen-Raman, Foreign Minister

Valerie filed the reply away on her computer with a smile. The open letter from the IASM, clumsily and amateurishly written and laden with such logical absurdities as only an unchallenged despot can put in a message without being laughed out of office, produced an electrifying effect in Arthurista. The press lapped it up and heaped ridicule and scorn upon the inarticulate dictator, now widely caricatured by cartoonists nationwide. To the public, adversaries such as Ralkovia and the Hegemonic Union were merely evil. The IASM, on the other and, was transformed overnight into a farce, its leader a comical character with Napoleonic delusions with an appallingly bad ghostwriter in charge of diplomatic missives.

The military, naturally, has a far more sober assessment of the IASM's capabilities. There is little prospect of deploying ground troops until "that other war" is resolved. the island of Alfalia, however, can easily be made impregnable by the coalition. Being an island nation itself, Arthurista has grappled with the problem of countering invasion for years and there was no reason why analogous strategies cannot be used.

There are only two ways to invade an island, by air or sea. The use of paratroopers is a profoundly idiotic strategy - the air forces and SAM batteries currently massing on the island can quickly establish air superiority and shoot the invading air armada out of the skies. This is especially since escorting fighters, with a far shorter range than transports or bombers, will have to fight at the limits of their combat radius with fully fuelled defending fighters, the very reason why Luftwaffe Messerschmidts failed in the Battle of Britain and Argentine Mirages at the Falklands. The survivors, without adequate heavy weapons, can be easily crushed by armoured forces. Besides, intelligence has indicated that the IASM has no air bases in the surrounding regions, a fact which seemingly precludes the very possibility of the IASM to use Fallschirms anyway.

A naval invasion is the greater threat, against which the People's Navy has dispatched a small but potent task force to help counter. The neat squadrons-based structure will be broken up as the fleet enters the operational theatre. The squadron of heavy cruisers will be split into two three-ship divisions which, paired with a three-ship division of frigates each, will form the forward elements to actively seek to find, fix and engage elements of the IASM fleet together with the submarine squadron. The two battle squadrons of heavy ships of the line, flagshipped by the superdreadnought APNS Zeus, would form a powerful reserve to be committed at the decisive moment of a fleet battle. Meanwhile, the three fleet carriers, each carrying a squadron of the new SU-100C Sea Flanker air superiority fighters in addition to the YAK-150 VTOL multirole fighters, will provide vital air cover to the task force. Above all else, enemy transports and fuel tankers are ruthlessly prioritised in an effort to cause as many casualties as possible and to degrade the IASM's ability to wage an amphibious invasion.

"No, we aren't going to let these fascists take the island," Valerie thought as she reread the message again, "especially not such ridiculously incompetent ones."

[The IASM]

24 Kilometres South of Blackdon, Afalia, 23:30 Local Time

The Shadow fist bomber had spent at least half of its fuel today traveling to Afalia. It carried two extremely powerful Blitzen-1 ALSRPCM. It was designed to destroy targets at a far and still do heavy damage however as it uses a extremely powerful explosive mixed with fine aluminium powder along with Xenon oxytetrafluoride. The result is a extremely powerful and unstable weapon that can fly into enemy land and destroy the target with the power of a small nuclear weapon.

Lazin himself as a well trained pilot has flown the LRSSB-7 himself while the craft was still in prototype stages. His approval of the Shadow Fist project was one of many reasons why the project was kept alive. Now it's self protecting air to air missiles can save it in dire situations and due it's extremely buoyant lower hull it can land on the surface of the sea to be refuelled by submarine carrying Liquid Hydrogen fuel to refuel it basically everywhere.

Today in Afalia was extremely stormy day as of the extremely heavy low pressure passing the area. There was the very infrequent lightning strike as the plane closed on to its target. The target in question was the highly symbolic parliament building which could not easily hit however the Blitzen-1 had been programmed with quite possibility one of the most accurate GPS systems in the in the history if military technology. The GPS uses a constellation of many satellites in low earth orbit polar to constantly store and map the world with extreme precision. However due to the large blast radius the technology was down scaled dramatically to keep the thrust to weight ratio generally high.

The first pilot was code named "Shadow commander" and the co-pilot "Shadow bomber" to keep simplicity. "Shadow craft Delta-2 to high command, ready to launch Blitzen-1, firing authorisation…" questioned Shadow Commander in a typical pilot voice.

"Your authorisation is granted for the glory of Titianicia" replied the High Command tactical relayer.

The bomber was extremely close to the capitial of Afalia now as they approached ever quickly at a steady Mach 0.9.

"Shadow Bomber drop the Blitzen."
It took a few seconds for the co-pilot to open the bombay then and revealing the bomb.
The co-pilot replied with "Dropping the bomb in five, four, three, two, one dropping the bomb".
As the Blitzen dropped around five meters- it fired up its powerful aerospike motor and is canards poised the dive into the many symbols of democracy. It was swift as a swallow and faster the sound as it quickly accelerated across the city. It was the demons axe about to behead democracy with supreme brutality.

[Arthurista]

E-3 Sentry, near Bartleo, Afalia

"How the FUCK can you let them get to within 24km south of Blackdon?" It was a very good question. With a detection range of beyond 320km, no competent air defence network can allow the enemy to get within that range.

"Sorry, comrade lieutenant," the radar operator seemed to wilt in his chair, "there was an equipment fault, I... I..."

"We'll deal with this later, corporal." The lieutenant was positively fuming when she reached for the radio to warn the relevant units to respond to the threat.


Command Post, Operation Aegis APAF component, 5km south of Bartleo

"Just how on the planet did the bombers get that close?" Air Commodore Jenny Lee inquired under her breath. "Did the E-3 detect any fighter escorts?"

"Negative, Comrade Air Commodore!"

The combat air patrols are taking time to form up as fighters are only beginning to arrive. The SAM batteries, however, have largely been sited. Now the best of Russian airframe and Arthuristan fire control are about to be put to the test. Guided by the E-3, groundside radars have acquired the bombers and as they approach the capital.

"S-400 batteries, you are cleared to engage!" she barked in a curt tone. "Ops, vector the SU-100s of flight Alpha-2 on an interception course, just in case. No radar, IRST only. Let's see if these bastards like being ambushed by stealth fighters. Intel, brief me in an hour on where the hell the bombers might be coming from when DMI has told us that the IASM has no airbases nearby."


Far beyond the command post, four S-400 surface-to-air missiles leapt off their launch rails from their battery 350km from Blackdon, hurtling at the bombers at mach 5. Meanwhile, four SU-100 Stealth Flankers patrolling near the area crept near the intruding bombers at transonic speed, R-77M1 missiles at the ready to mop up any survivors from a range of 160km.

"While you're at it, bring me a list of people in charge of the AWAC units. MINDEF has got some firing to do. If as much as one bomb lands in Blackdon, I'd strangle the morons myself!"

[Afalia]

As the IASM plane entered sights the former security personnel turned soldiers began rapidly firing their anti-aircraft weapons high up into the air.

Blackdon was surrounded by them, but a good soldier knew that shooting a plane down was one of the most difficult tasks afforded to the army.

Inside the security bunker Dawson feared they were too late.

'We can't shoot a bomb down! Are they firing!?' he screamed.

A young staffer nodded, 'All anti-aircraft weapons are firing.'

Dawson slammed his fist on the table. Wilcox came up behind him.

'Dawson, none of the soldiers are in there and the ports are practically empty. Everything's been loaded and shipped off Royal George academy. They're safe,' Wilcox said.

'I should have been more prepared,' screamed Dawson.

'We all should have been more prepared,' the Prime Minister interrupted, speaking like a true leader.

The room fell silent. The PM hadn't spoken for some time.

'When this all over, we know what we have to do. We will create a strong army, navy and air force. We'll build up an armed forces to maintain peace, but until then let's just focus on the now.'

The bunker turned to the main screen as the anti-aircraft weapons continued to fire into the air.

'Planes from Arthurista have been dispatched, as have a few of ours sir,' a young staffer shouted.

Dawson and Wilcox nodded. The Prime Minister said nothing, just stared silently at the screen.

[Itailian Maifias]

Second Seed 20, 2E71
Entering the ports of Blackdon, Afalia

The 2nd Southern Red Fleet has spent the last two weeks steaming across the world oceans of the globe, steaming from their base in Ellorea and rushing all the way to the tiny island nation of Afalia. They had reached Afalian waters earlier this morning and that's when the combat vessels broke off and made a firm circle, surrounding the entire island nation with it's four hundred and forty combat vessels. The three Ark-Royal class aircraft carriers had also deploying about fifty LY910 Shadowhawk fighter jets each to establish a network of a no fly zone, a firm objective in Admiral Morgan's mind after he heard about the IASM bombing run, that some how magically got inside the AA defenses of Afalia, but that would not happen again with his LY910's prowling the skies.

As the troopships reached Blackdon ports, they would begin offloading the one point two million men and all their equipment, a very monumental task especially considering the city's ports were not designed for such thing, so many of the Imperial troopships were diverted to neighboring beaches to help speed up a process that would ultimately take about twelve to twenty four hours to complete. Of course, much planning went into the landing itself and it was determined engineering cohorts would be the first to unload as they would begin constructing a defensive network around the city, namely trenches armed with anti-tank and anti-personal pillbox's, as well as underground ammo depots and such. Such trench networks were a common defensive tool used by the Legions and with a force this size, it should only take about six hours to complete. Of course, there would also be LY22 AA units deployed around the city to help bolster the city's defenses and three destroyers and a Valiant-class battleship were specifically staying near the city's ports to defend the city's ports. Below them were three Archer-class attack submarines to prevent any underwater incursions.

As the vehicles and men began unloading, General John Lynch was sitting in a LY83 Fox, a favorite transport vehicle of his for officers and small units of men. In the front of the vehicle, the radio operator was attempting to reach Afalian authorities, sending the following message

Code: Select all

 To: Afalian Authorities

This is General John Lynch of the Twin Amanitte Empire of Itailia. My Phalanx I Vinci and Phalanx II Sici have begun landing in Blackdon ports and neighboring beaches. Engineers are already moving to erect a massive trench and defensive network around the city's perimeter, effectively closing off the city to travel and exit. If you want to meet face to face, I'm down at the docks.

OUT

[Afalia]

Dawson finished typing his message to General Lynch down at Blackdon port.

He stood up, looking angry, angry at the IASM and Jack Lazin, 'I'm going down to the ports to meet the General.'

Kelly nodded, 'I'll come with you. Can I have a staffer and a couple of guards?'

With a few guards and a young staffer Kelly and Dawson left the bunker and out through parliament. The IASM's bomb had ripped the building in half but had missed its original target, believed to be the Parliament by a little way. The chambers of the House of Commons and Lords had been devastated but some of the older architecture had been preserved.

The PM and Dawson had been safe and sound inside the bunker, a couple of miles underground, but the IASM bomb which intelligence had not seen coming had a similar amount of power to a nuclear bomb. Much of Blackdon was devastated.

Inside Kelly wanted to cry a little, but he wouldn't allow that to happen. In his head all he could make was comparisons with the terrible bombings of world history, the Blitz on London, Dresden and even Hiroshima. Dawson had said the bomb was called Blitzen-1 ALSRPCM. Kelly had just taken to calling it Blitzen.

As far as he could see, for a good couple of miles everything was destroyed. What was left of the rubble was near collapsing, although the emergency services had responded well, putting out all the fires in the centre. Luckily all of the weapons and troops had been safe a few miles outside the city. Blackdon port had also been protected. But the people hadn't.

'What's the casualty count now?' asked Kelly.

The young staffer, struggling to maintain himself, flicked some buttons on his tablet, 'Around 126,000 roughly sir.'

Kelly nodded. He did not cry but simply sighed. The feelings of rage and sorrow were ready to leap out of his chest, but for the good of the staffer and Dawson he just kept in.

Dawson climbed into an army truck to take him down to the port. It would take around 25 minutes to get there. As he climbed in, Kelly stood over and slammed the door for him.

'This war's really started Dawson,' the PM said.

'Yeah.'

Kelly was surprised at the uncaring tone of his defence chief's voice.

'The Ditor's now responsible for the deaths of over 100 thousand people.'

'Yeah,' Dawson said again, 'And we've got a great military strength ready to destroy his war machine. And him.'

Kelly nodded again. He stood back from the truck as it pulled away. With his guards and staffer he slowly walked through the ruined capital of his country.

[The IASM]

Above Blackdon, Afalia

---

It was almost insane to stay above in a heavy storm alone but adding the fact that the shadow fist was under heavy surface to air fire. The bomb has just about hit the target take or add twenty meters letting Blitzen explode is a blinding fire-ball creating the starts of a mushroom cloud. The blast yield of 50 tones of TNT which is similar to the Russian ATBIP.

The pilots needed to disappear and quickly or they will be shot out of the sky. The Shadow fist crew desired to escape one of the least desirable of situations. "Jorvik, Jorvik! Go under radio silence" cried Shadow commander to his co-pilot. The co-pilot who happened to be called Jorvik answered back "terminating radio contact with high command now Berivik. Now we need to focus on escaping this mess".

"No I'm going to drop the second payload now to break them down more".

"Are you insane Berivik! We will be surely shot down by AA it is so heavy down the is is sheer madness by the degree of…"

"Jorvik remember training from when we were children, kill the enemy of the state first retreat later".

"But, but…"

"So are you with me or not?"

"Yes then."

Jorvik knew that they would most likely get shot down now as the storm had cleared making the shadow fist easier to hit plus the fact that it was it will be clearly visible if the lower clouds disappeared.

As the flew over again the second Blitzen was prepared as the bomb bays opened once again however it was aiming for the the ports to ruin their naval support as most of the foreign "Devori"(weaklings in Classical Apexionite) have favoured to dock there. Then all to suddenly the clouds created a gap however the sound "egg" helped the jet black ship to blend in. "Jorvik the Blitzen can reach from here to fire the damm thing" shouted Berivik in a more human but bravado-filled voice. " Preparing now our payload once again" replied Jorvik. "Dropping again in three, two, one the payload is go" informed Jorvik again watching the large payload descend into the populated city. The Blitzen was clearly more on target this time and a lot more under control as the wind from the storm had just about vanished. This was a going to be a direct it to the pride of Afalia, the maritime nations without no ports.

[The Eagleland]

Kokkinia, January 4th, 2013
Document #KYP-506007/013

---

FROM: Konstantinos Likas, President of the Orthodox Federation of the Eagleland
TO: The Hand of the Ditorate- Ditor Jack Lazin the 1st
SUBJECT: Lunacy

---

To the disillusioned and naive "demi-God", Jack Lazin I,

You are, without a shadow of doubt, a dreamer. It is obvious that your brain is hibernating at the moment. It is obvious. You have no clue on how this world works. You claimed to be a God, now you are telling us that you are a machine. Your brain's GPS has malfunctioned and failed. I wonder how on Earth are you able to lead a whole nation of two billion residents; more like subjects, may I add.

However, you admit that your people are hungry. This tells me, and the international community, that your leadership skills are indeed second-to-none. An entire nation struck by famine is a big achievement, something that you tend to publicize very well.

Allow me to enlighten you, because I have studied Ancient Greek philosophers since my teenage years, and were they here they would agree on one thing; your nation is a tyrannical form of governance, which does not care about it's citizens; instead, the former dedicate their lives in feeding your little mouth in these factories you have. No wonder why they are hungry. Hell, you even make the problem worse. A taxation rate of 98% is imposed on them. Now I understand why you are loved so much.

And as if the former wasn't a problem, you decided it's time to invade another country to feed these two billion mouths you have left open. Well, that would leave two billion more residents hungry, but that's alright with you. You don't seem to realise that the problem lies within your own system of governance, designed to rely on slaves. You believe that will make your nation stronger than the rest of the world, that it somehow would give you the advantage you need to destroy nations larger than yours.

Wake up from your dream. Your people are starving. Your country is dying. Your people fight under your banner just for a square meal. Your economy grows on slave labor. Eventually your country will collapse. Just like the ancients said. Nations like yours have no future. Your mission, as a leader, is to ensure your nation's happiness. You have failed. And do not try to argue because if you are keeping them happy, it is because of your sick propaganda. This is what keeps your engine running.

You know what, "sir"? I think you are a coward. A coward who tries to bully and terrorise weaker nations into submission, whilst avoiding the strong ones. You are too afraid to invade a nation more powerful than yours, which is us. Try invading us and you will see how many subjects of yours will never return. Afalia is like us; a democratic nation with a free spirit. Therefore, we will sink your 200 ships, kill your men, and humiliate your nation.

Besides, you are already ridiculed. Your poor, empty threat, described (also poorly) on a piece of paper, is a source of ridicule all over the world. A nation which has been here for longer than your silly existence has never received such a hastily-written response. I may not be a Philologist, but if your subjects had any rights they would laugh at your failure. Your low level of education is extremely evident.

It's almost game over or your state. Afalia will become your army's tombstone, and the high seas will become the final destination for your two hundred ships. You are nothing. Your greatness is zero. Deal with it.

Wake up from your dream, before it is too late.

Ut sementem feceris ita metes,
Konstantinos Likas
President of the Orthodox Federation of the Eagleland

---

Kokkinia, Eagleland
Presidential Palace
1723 KST

"What do we have?" asked President Likas the National Defense General Staff members, in the situation room deep below the Presidential Palace. With LCD screens the President could be informed about any situation the country faces. Right now, his plans have been finalised.

"We still have a large number of men willing to fight, sir." said Marshal Konstantinos Papaioannou, the leader of the Eagleland National Defense General Staff. "We are in the process of preparing 500,000 personnel for immediate deployment, alongside "

"Perfect." said the President. "Make sure we deploy as soon as.."

The head of the ENIS, the Eagleland's National Intelligence Agency, Admiral Antonis Vasilatos, entered the situation room.

"I wouldn't rush, Mr.President." said the old Admiral.

"What happened, Antonis?" asked Likas.

"They bombed the capital of Afalia. Blackdon. With an equivalent of a Tsar Bomba."

"How the fuck...!"

"I know, we have it on satellite imaging. It happened as soon as our satellite passed over Blackdon. We are just as amazed."

"But weren't they..."

"I know, Mr.President. They somehow made it. A suicide mission wiped out the city. I think that says it all about their luck."

The President was thinking a while. Until the Marshal decided to break the silence.

"What's the call? Should we intervene?" asked Marshal Papaioannou.

Without hesitation, Konstantinos' response came.

"Fuck this. Prepare the men Marshal." said President Likas. "I want five hundred thousand men on the ground as soon as possible. This war has began without us and I am having a really bad day."

He sat down and looked at the ENIS report of the IASM, provided a few hours ago. He then replied:

"Ισαμίτης να μην μείνει (Isamitis na min meinei)."

Greek for "No ISAMite to remain". That's the literal translation, because the normal meaning is different;

All ISAMites needed to die.

[Arthurista]

Press Conference, Loweport, People's Republic of Arthurista

"Mr Minister, just how did the bomber get past the coalition's air defences?" the lady from the Loweport Guardian asked in a rather shrill tone.

Michael Cochrane, Minister for Defence, hated these occasions. There was a time when he was a mere general, when questions directed at him, whether from above or below in the chain of command, were short and ridiculously easy to answer. He never regretted running for Parliament more than during press conferences.

"Well, Ms Wong, the short answer is, we don't know." A wave of gasps went through the hall. Most Arthuristan citizens would have completed national service and have some degree of military knowledge, especially graduates who would have been trained as junior officers. "We're investigating at the moment, though initial data indicates that a freak wiring fault aboard an E-3 sentry AWAC aircraft may have led to a 5 second 'gap' in coverage, enough for a stealth aircraft to slip through, though, frankly, it remains baffling how it magically escaped the notice of ground-side radar stations. In any case, our S-400 missiles proved their worth as they shot down the bomber."

"Let's hope this candour thing pays off, Mikey," Prime Minister Indira Todd thought, "the last thing we need is for the public to lose confidence in our ability to wage war. Well, two simultaneous wars, in reality."

The reporter did not relent that easily. "But Mr Minister, over 100 thousand people have been killed. Surely a serious inquiry is in order to see who is responsible..."

"I think I'll take this one, Michael." Indira Todd stood up. "Yes, Ms Wong, a 'serious inquiry' will indeed be conducted, with blames apportioned properly and dangerous faults corrected. The main issue, however, is that what was in effect a weapon of massed destruction was used to level the heart of a city. We don't particularly care about the fact that it wasn't NBC. That's purely technical. The fact remains, as you pointed out, that there has been extreme civilian casualties."

"We therefore would like to reiterate our stance regarding hostile WMD usage. It has been longstanding policy that where such weapons are used against us or our allies, we reserve all right to retaliate in kind."

"Are you confirming the existence of an Arthuristan 'Strategic Deterrence Force', Ms Prime Minister?"

"If you're asking whether we have abandoned nuclear ambiguity, Ms Wong, the answer is no, we're still neither confirming or denying that we have such devices in our possession." Indira's eyes have acquired a dangerous glint as she answered the question, "nor are we going to confirm or deny that our navy possesses a number of Styx Class SSBNs, or that they are currently on standby, ready to launch on command. What I am going to say without a doubt is this: there will be dire consequences if that idiotic excuse of a tin-pot dictator uses another one of these 'Blitzie' things again!"

[Afalia]

'I want them training all damn night! I don't give a damn!'

'Sir.'

'I don't give a damn!'

'Sir!'

Finally Kelly's rage left him and he slumped into his chair, still clenching his fists. Wilcox stood by, trying to calm him down.

'Sir,' Wilcox began, 'They need to sleep. We have soldiers from six different nations training them! OK?'

'Every time I come back in here Wilcox, every single time this evening, every time I've come back in the death toll's gone up,' Kelly said, grinding his teeth in frustration, anger, sorrow.

'Yes sir. And it's going to be like that for a few days. But do you know what? If they try it again we'll shoot them down before they can get anywhere near us. Us and the rest of the coalition. They'll be shot down.'

'But Wilcox, they won't do it again. This guy's a sadistic mass murderer. He doesn't want to do that again, he wants to invade, himself personally, and try and wipe us out that way. He's not interested in dropping bombs anymore!' shouted the Prime Minister.

'Well if he is we'll be ready!'

Wilcox let out a deep breath and slammed his fist onto the table.

'You have to concentrate sir,' Wilcox said, 'This is war.'

Wilcox stared deeply into Kelly's eyes, calming him. Dawson was at the base meeting with the senior commanders of the coalition forces, overseeing the training of the conscripts which now numbered 50 million. It was impossible to train them all, but they were going to give it a damn good go.

Kelly sat in his chair staring at the statistics up on the board. He was getting sick of this bunker. Wilcox came up behind him and patted him on his shoulder. Then he left to get some sleep. The Prime Minister stayed, watching the screen as midnight came and the new day began.

[Krownsinburg]

Marshton, Southern Afalia

The city was surrounded by Flakpanzer Gepards and MIM-104 Patriot Surface-to-Air missile systems, after hearing what happened in Blackdon, the Kröwns weren't taking any chances that something like that could happened again, the rest of the skies above Afalia were being combed by F-16's & F-22's, establishing full aerial dominance above the island so that no more bombers could slip in and drop another 'Hell Bomb', as the Kröwns nick-named it, on the rest of the country.

The Kröwns were lucky that they were West of Afalia, had they been East they would have had to land in Blackdon, and there would've been many casualities, casualities that were not acceptable by the standards of the Kröwns High Command, the rest of the ground forces moved across national roads to other cities and establish garrison in each city, it was now a top priority for all air forces to make sure the skies are clear of enemy forces, as for the waters below, the Ohio-class submarines were on patrol, having their Tomahawk cruise missiles on stand by if any enemy naval vessels were detected, they'd be taken care of.

[Phonencia]

Blackdon, Afalia
Approaching Port

The first contingent of the Phonencian Fleet had finally reached Blackdon but rather than the sprawling, welcoming city they had expected, they'd arrived to find the blackened, charred remains of a once great city. Sailors, pilots and Marines lined the decks of their ships as they slowed to a near stop, just outside of port. All stared with sorrow, anger and awe at the remains of Blackdon. On the bridge of the fleet's Flagship, the Taylor Allison Swift class Super Battleship I.N.S. Fire Dawn, Head Knight Jeremiah Bismarck stood stoicly, glaring out the windows with his three companions, Knights Soraf, Wallace and Shelton. The Supreme Commander of the Phonencian Army scowled angrily toward the crater.
"They will pay for this."
Knight Wallace hissed. The gaggle of reporters on the bridge (most from some Phonencian news networks, others from Phonencian Military News and a few international reporters as well) all hurried to get pictures and videos of the staring Sailors lining the ship's deck as well as the smoking remains of Blackdon.
"When we get to Titianicia..."
Knight Shelton started to say, trailing off angrily. The cameras snapped towards the four officers, the capes of their regal uniforms pushed over their shoulder to expose the Phonencian Broadswords at their sides.
"When we get to Titianicia we'll crush their armies, burn their leaders, raze their cities, slaughter anything that gets in our way and sow the earth with salt!"
Head Knight Bismarck snarled, shrugging his cape back over his left shoulder. The crimson mantle of sorts bore the Bismarck family crest and had black trim around it, signifying that he was the Head Knight of the Army. His three companions' capes were black with their respective family crests adorning them.
"We'll burn their country out from under them until the sun is blotted out by smoke and before we're through with them, Titianicia will be nothing but a barren, lifeless patch of rubble littered ground!"
Knight Shelton growled, spinning on his heel so suddenly it startled the cameramen behind him,
"I must go. I have men to lead."
he grunted, marching off the bridge and back down to his awaiting CV-22 Osprey.
"We should leave as well, the men need a speech. This will be an excellent reminder of why we fight."
Knight Soraf said, leaving with Wallace. Bismarck stayed in the same spot though, just glaring at the trail of smoke rising skyward.
"Head Knight Bismarck, do you have anything to say about this tragedy?"
a reporter asked.
Bismarck turned around, his cape fluttering lightly with the movement. He faced the camera and said angrily,
"Do you see it now Phonencia!? Do you see why we have to fight? These people did nothing to deserve this and now they're going to be exterminated! All of you malcontents lining the streets, protesting this war are soulless, spineless cowards! If I have to die to help save this country so be it, I will and any Phonencian man should be willing to do the same!"
Across the ocean in Phonencia, millions were cheering towards their televisions while hundreds others screamed profanities as their anti-war beliefs were practically spat on by the Head Knight.

"Sir, any comment on your plans for this war?"
a military reporter asked.
"Only that if I were a Titianician right now, I would be very, very afraid."
The Head Knight replied, turning and leaving the bridge. In the distance, the first few troop ships and
Ro-Ro cargo ships were unloading at the port, their passengers and vehicles disgorging rapidly. Large swarms of black dots filled the sky in the distance as C-17 Globemasters lumbered towards the city, loaded with extra supplies for the Phonencian forces. The small contingent of ships' few Drake class Amphibious Assault Ships slowed to a near halt off the shore and within a few minutes they'd begun launching
CV-22 Ospreys to comb the wreckage of the city and aid anyone that needed it.

[Virana]

Aboard Emmerian C-17 Globemaster III
7th Mechanized Brigade Combat Team
Near Afalia

---

"All personnel, be advised. We are no longer going to be landing at Blackdon International. The city was bombarded by Titianician forces earlier today. Instead we are going to detour north to Blartleo. Apologies for the inconvenience. Thank you for riding Air Force, we hope you had a splendidly shitty ride."

Air Force wasn't the best airline, nor was it at all comfortable, but at least the pilots knew this and tried adding some humor.

It'd been a very long flight—they were going halfway across the world after all. Eleven hours sitting in a military-grade transport aircraft. They were all cramped inside the plane; a long row of seats on each side of the aircraft facing inwards in addition to two rows facing opposite each other in the middle, everyone's equipment in rucksacks either on their back or in their lap and on the floor right in front of them. Soldier had periodically talked to each other, discussing topics ranging from the top celebrities to the latest movies and even more serious topics like how President Castilla won the past election. But now they had a more important topic to discuss.

"How many do you think died?" asked one of the soldiers near Nasim. "You know, in the Tites' bombing."

Another soldier across from him responded. "Could be anywhere from a couple hundred to hundreds of thousands," he said. "They never said if it was a nuke or what."

"Anyone got Internet? Check the news, maybe they got something."

"And how the fuck are we supposed to get Internet sitting in a C-17, Bailer?"

"I don't know, maybe they decided that if we've got sixty jets in formation that they'd give wi-fi access, I dunno. It was an 11-hour ride after all."

"Bailer, are you fucking retarded? The hell have you been smoking?"

The discussion came to a halt from the intercom. "Rise and shine girls, we're opening the gates so you have a clear view of the endless ocean below. No one jump out yet though, we still haven't reached the airport. ETA half hour."

The rear ramp opened up to reveal the stormy day, the rain still clearly pouring down. The fresh air and smell of the ocean water filled the cramped aircraft through and through. One of the aircraft's crewmembers walked up and down each aisle, handing out rations. Packets of MREs—been and rice burrito (for vegetarians), beef teriyaki, or meatloaf with gravy—went out to each individual alongside Flameless Ration Heaters (FRHs).

Nasim chose meatloaf with gravy. It wasn't the tasty stuff he had back home or at a military dining hall—no, this was hardcore military-style. He unfolded the FRH and placed the MRE packet in between, as indicated on a diagram on the packet, and tore open the small water packet to activate the heating reaction. Within minutes his MRE was warm and ready to eat, and he began eating. He was hungry—he'd skipped breakfast because he didn't feel like eating, but now he ate like it was Thanksgiving all over again.

Then he had a thought. All those poor, innocent people in the IASM's homeland, he thought. They were starving so badly that their government was willing to invade for food. And we're doing everything we can to stop them from getting it...

He shook off his sympathetic thoughts and substituted them with a focused mindset. They're our enemies, he thought. They want to kill us all.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the intercom—again. "Ladies, we've just got information on the Blackdon bombings. At least two 50-ton bombs were used by Tite bombers to kill an estimated 130,000 people and rising. Emmerian personnel were present. May our prayers and hearts go out to all who may have been affected."

The grim news made for some depressing lunch.

---

The planes had all landed in Blartleo—and it took a while. An MBCT was supposed to be rapidly air transportable across the world, but it still took sixty of the big C-17 Globemaster IIIs to airlift the entire brigade. As soon as the landed the troops exited their planes on the runway, unloading their equipment and arsenal of vehicles and weapons before even greeting their host nation.

The 7th MBCT's commanding officer, Brigadier General Willie Lott, exited his plane and searched for the Afalians who were to greet them. As soon as his eye caught them, he walked towards them and stuck out his hand to shake. "Brigadier General Lott, U.R. Army," he said. "Nice to meet you."

---

Majestic Troop
SEAL Team 3
Military Base in Blackdon
Blackdon, Kingdom of Afalia

---

Blaire pushed the flaming piece of wood off him, coughing as he patted out the remnants of the flame on his left arm. It'd burned him some—nothing he couldn't handle—but had he not been wearing the new flame-resistant uniform, he probably wouldn't be alive.

Staying low to the ground to avoid breathing in the rising smoke, he looked around and all he saw were blinding flames. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling the tips of his arm hair singe in the heat before he pulled his sleeves back down. He rummaged through his pocket feverishly for his Berkeley XRAY tactical ballistic sunglasses, then put them on. What a relief.

He looked around, his mind racing. Where is everyone? he wondered. What the hell happened? All he could hear was the loud crackling of flames and soft, indistinguishable radio chatter in the midst of static.

He thought back to what had happened. He was in almost full combat equipment, training Afalian recruits, before leaving at the end of the session to the bathroom. The rest of his troop had gone back into the bunkers to rest in the barracks, but this toilet was outside in a little shack. He only heard distant radio chatter before an earsplitting airhorn went off, followed closely by an overwhelming boom, and then everything had fallen on top of him—on fire.

Blaire was on the ground, surrounded closely by flaming pieces of what had once been a small lavatory. "Fuck!" he yelled at the top of his lungs as he kicked a few more logs and pushed his way out of the burning wreckage, then fell onto the ground. He was exhausted—for almost an entire minute he'd been breathing in nothing but carbon dioxide from hot fire. He took long, deep breaths of the fresh air before forcing himself to stand up. He'd left his M18 rifle leaning against the lavatory outside, and miraculously it was still in one piece. He found the rifle, looking scratched and beaten and torn apart, on the ground several meters away from the wreckage he'd been stuck in.

He picked the rifle up, finding heavy damage across its body. God dammit, he thought as he inspected the weapon. He held it and made his way towards the central command of the base in the bunkers. Burning debris littered the ground—charred bodies, gear, everything. In one corner he saw someone still moving—a man, cringing on the ground as his anxious screams for help were drowned out by the flame that had overtaken him. Blaire watched awestruck; there was nothing he could do for the poor man as he literally burned alive, inhaling hot flames in his last, dying breath.

He passed by the remains of what had once been the base, finding the bunker where his team and a number of Afalian recruits had gone after the exercise. The bunker was mostly in one piece; it'd crumbled in some areas but had been designed to resist explosions. After all, whatever bomb had hit the city, it didn't detonate right above the military base.

He finally saw living people who hadn't died. As he walked towards the bunker's entrance the reinforced door was thrust open, his own Majestic Troop filing out.

"Blaire! You're alive!" yelled one of the men who was first out of the bunker. "You look like shit... The hell happened?"

"I know as much as you," Blaire replied, ignoring the pain from the many scratches and burns around his body. "I'm fine. We need to find survivors."

The SEALs and a few Afalian conscript recruits that had been lucky enough to enter the bunker began to take apart the debris, looking for anyone who had survived. They found a few people, who were obviously in a lot of pain, and gathered them up to a single area. Majestic Troop had a number of medics who began treating the injuries of the people. But in the midst of the wreckage they found a number of people who'd been killed—crushed by flaming pieces of metal as the sky had literally fallen on them. For some of the survivors it was still too late—they were going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

One of the SEALs looked towards the ocean nearby them and realized—there were ships coming towards the city!

"Uhh, I don't think the Tites are letting up just yet!" he yelled. He reached into a pocket at his waist and pulled out a pair of high-tech binoculars with an integrated laser rangefinder, looking at the ships. "Wait a moment... they've got a black a red flag. Hold on." He looked a little closer, zooming in to the large war flag waving high above the amphibious assault ship. It was a jet black flag with a horizontal red stripe in the middle and two vertical red stripes intersecting it. "They're Phonencians!" he screamed with joy and hysterical laughter. "I see helicopters!"

Blaire overheard. "Alright, let's round up those who've got a chance of living and get to higher ground. We'll pop flares and signal for aid."

The SEALs did their job, loading the injured onto stretchers. A few medics stayed behind to treat them while the rest moved in a full military formation out of the base, looking for high ground. They found the whole city had been blown to bits—charred buildings, rubble covering the landscape of the once-beautiful city. They found a large hill that overlooked the city's financial center and popped a red flare on it, signalling for Phonencian help.

Blaire took a few steps towards the city that now lay in ruins. "They will pay," he announced grimly. "They just made the biggest mistake of their worthless lives."

[United World Order]

1st Submarine Fleet, enroute to Afaila waters

The 1st submarine fleet which had receantly several hours ago left UWO waters for its journey towards Afailia. The fleet comprised of 150 submarines most of them attack submarines. The overall strategy of the Ordernites was to harrass and deal blows to the Afailia's coalitions naval supply lines which through intellegince reports that coalition troops had begun landing. The submarine fleet would when it arrived near the coalitions naval contegent near Afailia's capital Blackdon, locate known routes of the coalitions supply ships through survellience and when that was confirmed they would form numerous boxes which a box represented several miles looked over by one submarine for every box. They would generaly appear, attack and then dissapear repeating the same motion over and over hoping to cut crucial Coalition supply routes.

[Phonencia]

Pelican Team
Phonencian Imperial Navy
Blackdon, Afalia

The three lumbering CV-22 Ospreys of Pelican Team roared across the smoke filled skies, the aircrews within observing the devastation in awe.
"Hey, just got word from up high, there were some UR Navy SEALs stationed at a military base in the city. The Captain wants it checked out."
The Osprey's co-pilot said. The pilot slightly changed the helicopter's flight path, his two wingmen mimicking him.
"Hey Heston! You and your boys ready back there?"
the pilot, Warrant Officer Michael Jeffries called over his shoulder.
Hospital Corpsman 1'st Class Carl Heston replied with a simple,
"Yes sir."
Heston and the other nine Corpsmen in the back of the CV-22 had already prepared all of their medical equipment and were now simply waiting to land and retrieve some patients. The Corpsmen were all dressed similairly to their infantry counterparts. They wore AUCUs (Army Urban Combat Uniforms) a dull, concrete-grey pattern of pixels intended for breaking up a soldier's silhouette when standing against a concrete building or laying in the street. Their light DAUNTLESS vests and the tactical vests clipped on over them were a dark grey as where their helmets. They each carried an Uzi submachine gun (in 6.5 CBJ) slung over their backs next to their large, grey medical packs. The only colors on them that stood out even slightly was the black and red of the Phonencian Flag and blood red Christian crosses on their left shoulder. The Phonencian Military rarely used the boring, stubby red cross that was the international symbol for a hospital or medical personnel.

The craft's tail gunner sat silently, staring at the floor with his eyes closed. His lips moved quickly, whispering a prayer for the thousands of souls that had just flooded Heaven.
"Hey! Flare! Let's bring her in."
the Co-Pilot exclaimed, looking down at the charred piles of rubble that (apparently) had been a military base and the slightly less charred piles of rubble that had been a financial center.
"Ready up back there doc, looks like they've got some wounded."
Jeffries said, slowly bringing the helicopter in for a landing atop the small hill the SEALs had populated. The nacelles rotated and the craft slowly moved downwards. The ramp started to lower as the tiltrotor descended and finally its large wheels pressed down into the ash-covered ground.
"Let's go!"
Heston shouted over the roar of the engines. He rushed down the ramp, his fellow Corpsmen following closely behind and carrying stretchers. The HM1 immediately moved to a badly burned young man and ripped the stretcher off his backpack and snapped it open.
"I'm HM1 Heston, we're with the Imperial Navy. Which of you are the most seriously injured?"
he asked, looking up at the nearest SEAL (Blaire). He and a second Corpsman carefully lifted the casualty onto a stretcher, grabbed their respective ends, and carried the immobile man back up the ramp into the Osprey. Their fellow Corpsmen were at work similairly, carrying non-ambulatory casualties aboard and strapping them into place securely then setting to work administering pain killers and whatever other help they could. In the skies above, more and more Ospreys and CH-53 Sea Stallions roared across the city, most of them hugging the ground and searching for survivors from the blast. In the distance, a more intensive ground relief effort was under way...


99'th Infantry Company
Phonencian Army
Blackdon Port District

Private First Class Jacob Bell sat atop an LY-219 Ironheart ambulance APC, his AY-144L assault rifle slung.
Bell was a simple Rifleman in the Empress Taylor the Saint Legion's 99'th Infantry Company but today his job had changed a bit. Rather than the numerous extra rifle magazines he typically carried, Bell had a bull horn strapped haphazardly to the back of his vest along with several IFAKs and a stack of Triage Tags.
He surveyed the ash covered streets and buildings closely as they rolled past, looking for any injured Afalians. The Port had been largely undamaged by the blast but the ash and smoke had still blanketed the area.
"This is the Phonencian Army, please remain in your homes unless you need assistance. We are conducting search and rescue operations and need minimal interference. A shelter will be set up at the nearby high school as soon as possible. Report there if you are displaced from your home or are trying to locate a family member. Please bring-"
Bell tuned out the loud, droning message from the APC's speaker system, instead focusing on the roar of the vehicles' engines. The convoy was practically endless, Ironhearts of every make and model rolling down the street and occasionally splitting off into smaller convoys to head to the local high school. A small fleet of C-17 Globemasters soared overhead, their ramps opening to paradrop tons of supplies down to the ground around the port area. There were MREs, different pattern uniforms for desert, forest and urban warfare and plenty of MOPP suits, in case the IASM tried to use CBN weapons on the Phonencian forces. While small contingents of men organized relief efforts for the city, the IFVs and Merkava tanks headed out to the city limits to stand guard against a possible attack from enemy ground forces. It wasn't long before LY-7/222 King Shepherd AA Vehicles started positioning themselves throughout the city, their powerful radars searching the skies for enemy planes and finding only the radar signatures of Imperial Navy
F-36C Scimitar Joint Dominance Fighters laden with air-to-air missiles. As the relief convoys neared Ground Zero, several units launched their RQ-11 Raven UAVs to scout the area from above for any sign of survivors.

[Afalia]

Searches had been continuing throughout the night and day for survivors amongst the pile of rubble which used to be the bustling centre of Blackdon. On a normal weekend day like this one, around lunchtime, the crowd would have been packed to bursting, with the Saturday market attracting tourists from around the world. Instead planes from a variety of foreign militaries, Afalia's own planes flew over head and emergency service teams dragged, mostly dead, bodies out from under the ruins.

Inside the Prime Minister sat with Dawson reviewing the training of the conscripts. He wanted to be out the streets, helping people, telling them it would be alright in the end, but instead he had to deal with the problems of war and taking some of the final decisions on behalf of His Majesty.

The last election had been all about tax and defence spending. Kelly had argued for increased spending, worrying about potential threats brought to his attention through intelligence reports. But the threats had died down, the IASM wasn't one of them, and whilst he'd planned to increase spending, he hadn't got round to it yet.

He was being punished for that now.

A young staffer approached the Prime Minister. Before he could speak Kelly cut in, 'The latest?'

The young staffer examined a nearby computer. He looked up at the Prime Minister.

'How much?' Kelly asked again.

'135,609 sir.'

Kelly nodded and drummed his fingers on the table.

'Sir?' the staffer said.

'Yes son?'

'Sir, there's going to be a private benefit concert somewhere near Blackdon today. They'll be asking for donations from some of the wealthier residents, to help raise money for the eventual re-building of the city. They've asked if you can come?' the staffer finally asked.

'No,' Kelly said, 'I have to stay here, but let's send a representative OK.'

The staffer nodded and returned to his area.

'Have they all arrived yet Dawson?'

Dawson came over to the PM's side, 'Practically sir. Almost all of the foreign forces have arrived.'

'So now we just wait for the IASM do we?' Kelly asked.

'Can't fire on something unless you can see it.'

About an hour later at a protected location nearby Blackdon, some of the wealthiest residents of Blackdon and Afalia gathered together to hear some music played by some of the most popular artists. The concert started off joyfully with some upbeat songs making fun of Jack Lazin and the IASM. But by the end as the orchestra took to the stage the donations were flooding in to help rebuild the city and rebuild the lives of those who had survived.

When the final piece of music played many people at the concert, began to cry, but inside they were angry.

[Arthurista]

Temporary training ground, close to Verena City

Captain Sonya Rajan, Arthuristan Para-Commando, laid prone on the ground with the rest of the Afalian platoon of trainee guerillas scattered around her. They, and the other two 8-men sections were on the reverse slope, shielded from the sight of the 'supply convoy' below. Tension was in the air as every man and woman in the unit were poised to strike.

If there was one 'good thing' that came out of the bombing of Blackdon, she decided, it was to make these conscripts far more effective than they were yesterday. They have always taken their task seriously, eager to defend their home and way of life. Overall, however, they went about their training with an air of ... unreality, about them, as if subconsciously the impending invasion did not register at all. The loss of more than 130,000 civilians, however, seems to have galvanised them, producing a subtle but discernible change in their bearing and deportment. Within 24 hours the platoon shot straighter, marched harder and seemed much more aggressive in general.

"With a bit of luck, these guys might even survive." She thought as she observed her local platoon commander initiate the 'ambush', as she'd trained them to do. A volley of RPG-7s hit the plywood 'APCs' at the head and tail of the column, blowing them to pieces and trapping the 'convoy' in the middle. Mortars, a pair of 60 and 81mm each, opened rapid fire to rain shrapnel-laden death upon the imaginary hostile infantry who should be dismounting by now. Within moments they were rewarded with a flurry of explosions among the rusty, abandoned trucks below, being used as targets for the exercise. Finally, camouflaged conscripts emerged to engage and eliminate the surviving paper targets with small arms fire. The whole process took less than two minutes.

"Good job, peeps," Sonya thought as she reached for her radio, "let's see how you handle this, now."

It was three seconds later when the conscripts first started to hear the distinctive sound of an emerging helicopter. Without requiring any direction from the platoon commander, the three sections scattered back to the pre-prepared camouflaged positions as the Eurocopter Tiger emerged from beyond the horizon, approaching the area flying very low and appearing in sight at the last moment.

They were, of course, trained to deal with such an eventuality. Helicopters are the most powerful of counter-insurgency instruments, and thus the most predictable. It was a given that they'd be sent to deal with incidents like an attack on a supply convoy. With that in mind, the platoon commander has set up two Mistral missile teams in camouflaged positions, ready to ambush the reinforcement. Within moments, they were rewarded with the helicopter firing flares and evasive manoeuvres as the MANPAD teams locked on, before leaving the training area altogether.

"Still sloppy, but they'll do," she thought as the platoon emerged from their hiding places and cheered. "Take five, people. That wasn't bad at all!"


APNS Zeus, Flagship TF Hyperion, at sea

"You sure about this, Allison?" Admiral Jack Fisher asked his chief of staff

"Yes, Comrade Admiral. According to SIGINT intercepts the UWO may be deploying subs to interdict coalition convoys. Sonobuoys dropped by patrolling Nimrod aircrafts confirmed that hostile subs may indeed be present in the theatre."

With the rest of the coalition's naval and air assets arriving, the TF Hyperion has been sent far out into the high sea as a forward force, to find, fix and engage the incoming IASM first fleet before calling in the necessary reinforcements to complete its destruction. Its main striking force was Hyperion One, the Surface Combat Group, with two battle squadrons of heavy missile ships. Ahead roved two screening force of a three division of heavy cruisers and another of three frigates each, the forward elements of the forward element, themselves powerful flotillas each packing more than 1900 VLS cells between the cruisers, before counting the frigates. They remained, naturally, within 1000km radius of the fleet carrier squadron, ensuring that they received adequate air cover at all time. Around them, the four squadrons of Amur class attack submarines patrolled, ready to report any contact to the flagship. The entire fleet sailed in emission silence. Apart from the AWAC osprey's radars and ASW sonar systems all active sensors were switched off, despite their already LPIR design. This, together with the low radar-signature design of the surface ships, should give them a serious advantage at the first moment of an engagement.

"We have to keep the fleet together for the decisive battle, Allison. We can't afford to fritter away the frigate screen to look for phantom subs." The Admiral sounded adamant. Send in the Nimrods to deal with them. Their new low frequency sonobuoys should be adequate to hunt them down. Besides, they're far to our rear anyway, closer to the island. It's the planes' job, not ours."

"Yes, Comrade Admiral. I'd message the other coalition task forces as well, maybe they can help with the subs."

"Go ahead. Also, make sure that a flight of Sea Flankers are armed with those newfangled ASAT things at all times. Any time one of their RORSATs come anywhere near overhead, blow it up!"

"Yes, Comrade Admiral!"

[Itailian Maifias]

Amanitte Trench Network
HQ Bunker
Second Seed 23, 2E71, 9:41 AM

One day later, and the work was finally completed. One point two million men, six and a half thousand tanks, and hundreds of other vehicles and equipment were unloaded and now defending the city of Blackdon. The force had just arrived after the bombing of the city's center and many traveled through the devastated area, their facial expressions becoming hardened at the site of the smoldering structures and blackened craters that was once somebody's home, once somebody's school. As the men were unloaded cohort at a time, they would have all made their way for what the engineers were constructing and pitched in to help; construction of a massive mutli-trench network that encircled the entire city. These were not your standard rectangle in the ground trenches, they had sandbags ontop of their edges for cover when firing, reinforced pillbox's every few yards, each housing a machine gun or howitzer. In some trenches, mortars were set up and already pre-sighted to designated areas. Some trenches even led to underground barracks and bunkers, for eating and sleeping in or some where command centers. In the center of the network was one such bunker, the one designated as the HQ or Central Command one. It was fairly sized, wide enough to fit about five computers on a single long table on either end of it's walls, with a large billards like table in the center with a map of the island, a map of Blackdon and then several maps of the other Afalian cities. Lynch and all of his centurions and other senior officers were gathered around the table, getting a briefing from the General.

" Here's were we stand at the moment. Our forces are completely unloaded, and are all now situated in the trench network that is now encompassing the entire city. Howitzers and mortars are also set up, as well as our armored cohorts. Here just east of the city we have constructed a make-shift airfield, where LY910's, approximately sixty, have flown too and will use the airfield as a station to conduct air denial operations against any IASM or UWO air superiority attempts. Further air denial operations will be conducted by the 2nd Fleet during their blockade operation. Furthermore, Legio VI Kalmar and Legio I Esrin are on standby and will be deployed to the beaches to aid the Afalin militia in defending the beaches, should by some god given miracle IASM actually break through the naval lines."

" Sir, what's the status on the coalition forces?"

" Emmeria has deployed a few SEAL teams, one of which was in the blast zone of the bombing run, believed to be MIA by us. Phoenician forces were still unloading in the ports last we checked, we are unaware of their tactical plans but they may be joining us in the trenches. Additionally, I've been informed by Caesar that he has deployed the 5th Eastern Blue Fleet who can bring us an additional four Legions if we are in need of reinforcement. We are staying with the tactical plan that we devised with Emmeria, Afalia and Phoenicia. It's a solid plan, and that tin-pot dictator doesn't stand a chance. "

" Sir, are we going to be retaliating on IASM? "

" SecDef is still working on getting IASM's location, should have it within an hour. He also has a secondary fleet on standby if that need be the case."

[Afalia]

Dawson finished typing the message, with a few PR pointers from Kelly and sent it off.

MOST SECRET

Message From The Chief of the Defence Staff
HM Afalian Armed Forces
'God Is My Tower Of Strength'

To All Senior Commanders Of The Forces Of,

Emmeria
Itailia
Krowninsburg
Phonecia
Eagleland
Arthurista

In order to protect and defend Afalia from the tyranny and enslavement of the IASM I invite all senior commanders, or a suitable delegate appointed by senior commanders, to the Armed Forces Defence Bunker, co-ordinates at the bottom of the page, to co-ordinate a defence and response plan to the IASM and UWO threat.

We request that the senior commanders of all the branches your forces are operating in Afalia attend, or the supreme commander of all three.

To protect the security of the operation please burn after reading this message.

Yours sincerely,

General Sir Simon Dawson
Chief of the Defence Staff
HM Afalian Armed Forces

Co-Ordinates Armed Forces Defence Bunker--------

[Itailian Maifias]

Amanitte Trench Network
HQ Bunker
Second Seed 23, 2E71, 9:50 AM

The HQ Bunker by this point was a buzz as technicians worked to set up the electronic equipment and officers came in and out, often conferring with General Lynch over the tactical plan of battle. Admist all the commotion, a Afalian runner entered the bunker and handed the General a sealed message. He quickly set his pointer down that he was using to point at landmarks at the map and broke the wax seal on the letter and read it, and then followed it's directions and burned it in a nearby fire. " Seems the Afalians want to get some allied command set up. Invited all senior commanders of the coalition to some bunker. Alrighty, Tuscon get the Fox ready. Colonel Schiavone, command of the Phalanx's is yours until I return."

The general and his driver made a quick exit of the bunker, heading up to the trenches and then climbing out of them into a awaiting LY83 Fox. Once inside, the driver sped down the only available road still leading into the city. Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the location given in the message, at some apartment building that was over the bunking, guarded by Afalian soldiers. Lynch gave them a crisp salute as he entered the building and headed down the stairs, the lights often reflecting off of the medals on his dress uniform. Within a few minutes of descending stairs, he arrived at a steel reinforced door like one you would find on a bank vault. The door was opened for him and Lynch entered, awaiting his fellow officers.