The Sacred War (Workers of the World Unite! IC CLOSED)

by **Transoxthraxia** » Tue May 21, 2013 3:01 pm

Chezkau, The Vast Dominion
1100 Hours, November 18th, 20XX.

As the president put on the things that the TSB agents have handed him, the major who had identified himself as Iaakob put his gas mask on his head, so it was resting there. He answered the President's questions in an orderly fashion. "The roof, Mister President. We rappelled in. No, Mister President, I don't know if your agents are still alive. If they are, they are not our prime directive, or any other directive otherwise. In all likelihood, we will be ordered to leave them behind. We will get out..." He took a moment to think.

"We'll descend the staircase, trying not to attract attention. Slowly, one by one, if it takes us all day. Once we get to the ground floor, or the parking garage, we will go out through there. Once there, we will ascend one of the adjacent buildings, one with a flat roof. From there, we will be picked up. One of us shall stay behind to make room for you, Mister President." He nodded hard, so his mask would fall back over his face, and he adjusted it. Turning without another word, he then began to make his way to the stairwell. They climbed level after level, slowly and cautiously, only engaging when absolutely necessary.

They didn't receive much attention until about midway down, when they ran into a fully armed group of the rebels. Both sides were pinned down, the rebels having much larger amounts of firepower, while the TSB agents had training. During this firefight, two Minor TSB agents shrouded the President to ensure his safety.

Anti-Communism Alliance Central Administration Building
Berlin, German Empire
19th November 2013

Adriana was irritated. The thirty nine year old ambassador hadn't slept in two days, she had been running on caffeine, and was now being sent from her comfortable room in the Transoxthraxian embassy in Berlin to a meeting with the ACA members. She hadn't been briefed on the happenings of the past few hours in their fellow ACA member, btu she had gotten the jist of it in the car over to the meeting. She had known most of the story by the time that she had reached the meeting. Looking up, as she got out of the car, she observed the building. It was purely impressive. During her time in the city, she had witnessed things that she would never believe she could after her upbrining and education in rural Transoxthraxia. "Not bad for a girl from rural Transoxthraxia, Adriana..." She muttered to herself as she entered the building with her aides.

Upon reaching the meeting room, she noticed that she was a few minutes late, and quietly slipped into the room as another female, a Nachfolgian, she noted, that was speaking stubbornly and arrogantly. She, as well as one of her aides, entered the room and stood against the wall, listening to the woman speak impatiently about an invasion. While she did so, she opened the dossier that she had been handed in the car over to the meeting place, and reviewed the details. Although she herself didn't condone actual direct military action, she knew that Transoxthraxia, as well as the Iron Ring, would. Going through the thick dossier compiled about the dominion and it's history, the rebellion, possible leaders, key locations, etcetera.

Finishing her parse over the document as the Tyrannian delegate spoke, she closed the dossier, and handed it to her aide. "Gentlemen, I am Adriana af Vreino, representative from the Transoxthraxian embassy here in Berlin. Good to meet you all, but I'm afraid, with the crisis at hand, that formalities will have to wait." She began to walk forwards from the wall, slowly stalking closer to the table. "This crisis that we have on our hands is a serious one. Now, gentlemen, I, for one, do not condone direct military action. However, my opinion in this matter is irrelevant to the situation at hand. My job is to represent Transoxthraxia and the ruling government. Now, I am fully aware of the Iron Ring's Jingoistic tendancies, and I would be lying if I said that direct military intervention by the Transoxthraxian army and navy would be out of the question for the Iron Ring. I will await further communication from my government. Thank you for your time, gentlemen."

by **Tehraan** » Tue May 21, 2013 4:32 pm

Hegemonic Union,
Tehraan

A mechanical noise hummed unpleasantly in the ears of Mitalref Lraga. It was the depth of night as he sat inside the dark room passing through paper after paper. The phone rang again.

“Yes?” He said answering the phone

“The embassy has fallen.” A voice a said on the other side.

“Understood, make sure you get picked up among the refugees. Make contact once you do.” The connection was cut on the other side and Mitalref put the horn back, slightly grinning as he looked at a few papers.

They were setting one step of a plan in motion, the Vast dominion was a loss, but significant as little as it was economically, the destruction of the current state was a matter that carried far more opportunity with, provided the means available allowed for such. And to prevent the rise of a consequential force some measures had to be taken.

The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl), Chezkau
18th of November, HU embassy

The outside area was ablaze with heavy fighting that spread across the streeds, revolutionary mobs stormed anything of significance to the old regime, gradually overwhelming the remnant of the loyal but outnumbered and inadequately equipped police force.

Inside the embassy most people had already fled, as a last remnant of the security force held the barricades up, but it was more than optimistic too assume that those would last. All significant documents had already been destroyed, with exception to a few that were important enough to be evacuated. A helicopter was out of the question, no contact could be established with the airfield, assuming it hadn’t fallen already. And there was no nearby Maritime Army contingent to rescue and evacuate them

Nobody knew where the ambassador had been taken, a second team was in charge of his extraction. Presumably he was either gone or dead, but that was a minor concern.

Erazad Atan, a UIA operative in the Vast Dominion held the files in a suite case. What the files contained, he wasn’t sure off. But he had been instructed to either extract them at any costs, only if their capture was unpreventable had he the permission to destroy them. An unexpected end to an easy job in a faraway land. Although there had been ample warning prior, they hadn't expected it with the force and the fervour it had. Sure the place had been going down the gutter for a long time, but he hadn't anticipated that it would snap so quickly.

The men quickly buckled up as the last remnant of the embassy flooded out. There was nothing left safe for the communists and a hand full of security guards with enough guts to stick around. Having requisitioned the last group, Atan meant to escape with the documents. There were only 7 guards left, armed with some standard issue sidearms and personal defence weapons that were available at every embassy's armoury. That and a few bullet proof Keflar vests they had, hopefully it would be enough. There was a chance of potential hostiles that would probably mistake them for cops or the like, not that these communists had any less reason to kill citizens of the HU.

“Set and ready to go sir.” Madura Ada, the chief of security said. He was a tall and muscular man, who had spent the past years fighting in Talibastain as part of the National Front's counter-insurgency force. Now he was a retired officer that had previously been looking forward to a quiet and cosy security job in some faraway embassy. Atan guessed the ‘quiet and cosy’ part got left out somewhere along the way.

He looked at his gun and gripped it nervously. “Let’s get moving then.”

Ada nodded and motioned the remaining guards to move. Quietly they retreated from the front area towards the back of the embassy, leaving the communists outside of the embassy locked in skirmishes with whatever remnant the old regime had mustered. There was a back entrance that let towards a small walled garden, which itself was the only way out besides the front door, if you were willing to climb the wall.

“I’ll go first, give me a boost.” One of the security guards said. A second moved to stand with his back against the wall and gave the first a lift with his hands who jumped over the wall. There was a dull dud sound on the other side.

“Clear!” he said eventually across the wall. They all followed his example. Ada came last, who was pulled up by the second last over the wall.

“So where exactly are we going?” Ada asked cautiously after his landing.

“To the harbour.” Atan replied. “HQ has commandeered a merchant bound for Tehraan as our transport out of this place. It should be waiting for us, provided we arrive within the time limit. Otherwise we’ll be stuck here.”

They stood in an long and dark alley, which was part of a series of alleys that ran between the buildings around the embassy. They had, until they somehow managed to commandeer a vehicle no other option but to walk the whole way. A feat that would most likely be impossible within the time frame available. One diplomatic vehicle had been taken by the ambassador, the second was currently in the hands of whomever had broken into the garage. This left them without any suitable direct transport meaning they had to find one and find one fast without getting caught by the communists.

They moved as quickly and as quietly possible across the alley, maintaining an ever vigil eye on their surroundings. The distance was mired with gunshots, explosions and shouting. The city was tearing itself apart. Whatever poor sods of the old order remained castled inside their towers would get what’s coming to them. The central government never had a good opinion of the country, if anything they saw it as a file and rotten nation. But political realism dictated such matters had no purpose in the overall dealings of nations and as long as they would be willing to do business it was of no concern how they managed their country. That of course hadn’t prevented anything from happening. Atan imagined the central government being anything but happy with this travesty, but it would be unlikely they could have done anything to prevent it.

A mob ran by. Sticking to the shadows, Atan and the others hugged the walls in order to evade the mob’s sight. Ten, perhaps twenty men and women ran by and they were armed. After they passed, Ada looked around the corners before signalling that the way was clear. “So any where we can get some wheels?” Atan asked to Ada as they ran across the street. “There is a parking lot not too far from here, I’m sure there some vehicles there that we can ‘borrow’ to get to the extraction point.”

Extra-regional oceanic waters,
Unified Navy Task force fleet, en route to Cnernobl

Matseya face rubbed his eyes while learning back into the command chair aboard the HUS Victorious, the second Ikalrem class super heavy capital ship the HU had constructed after the first one in 2011. A massive ship, widely regarded as the HU’s equivalent of the Longsword super capital, although in truth it was far less central to anyone's doctrine than the Longsword was. On the contrary, the ‘competent’ military commanders of the Unified Navy widely regarded the Ikalrem class with its massive radar set, fast array of weapons and successful combat record, to be the biggest waste of money ever to enter service with the Unified Navy, except maybe for the Gabriel Class heavy command ship. And as student of the renowned Tehraanian Admiral Yamegalet, whose writings and theories on modern naval strategy and tactics formed the basis of the Unified Navy doctrine, Matseya was anything but proud to be at the helm of one of the central government’s biggest show pieces and miss spending of tax money.

However, the ship which coincidently happened to be the biggest bulls eye was serving as a centre piece of the command and control of the Unified Navy and because of that he, who had been assigned as commander in the field of the Task force fleet had no choice but to be on it. Along with the 4 other Ikalrem classes subordinate to his command and the other ships that made up this Task force fleet.

They had only left Pardes a week ago and it was still a good distance towards Cnernobl. Enough time to take inventory, he had everything he needed to conduct the operation with sufficient flexibility against casualties. That is to say that the task force fleet was large. Organized into separate surface groups each centred around a capital ship and its support and escort ships. In addition to that he had a sizable nuclear submarine force under his command, who were operating independently and would be inserted into position a head of the main fleet's arrival. Which they achieved by going at high speed at such depths that they could avoid detection. Where the pressure was strong enough to keep cavitation down and where the sound would be so bend, that it was unlikely anyone would pick them up even if they moved at the highest possible speed.

His mission was simple, escort an assault force to Cnernobl, as phase 1 of the operational plan for the Cnernobil intervention, which had been dubbed ‘Operation Carrion’ by central HQ. Phase 1 entailed he had to A: engage enemy naval forces protecting Cnernobl and preventing a successful landing, and B: support the Maritime Armies assault force, numbering 300.000 during that landing, whose task it was to establish a beachhead so that the main fighting force could be deployed. A text book operation, Matseya concluded, but also one of the hardest. There was a lot at stake and one mistake could cause massive casualties. Because of that, their formation had created a kind off ‘shield’ around the assault groups. Where surface groups had been positioned in such a manner that they could cover for the Assault groups in the event of a coordinate attack. Their strongest weapon however was discretion, they were in open waters. Whatever Intel the enemy had would probably be limited to only foreign supporters, and their exact numbers and intentions were subject to inaccuracies in the assessments without somebody higher up on the inside as their source. By observing emission control protocols and proper SIGINTEL reconnaissance they had a good chance of not being detected while similarly detecting a potential hostile way in advance of being picked up. And by that time it would be too late for the enemy.

by **Martilia** » Wed May 22, 2013 11:14 pm

Bulwagan ng Matatapang - The Decagon
Kasvenogorod, Soviet Martilia
November 18th, 2013 - 2134 Hours

Rain has been pouring down hard for several days at the federal city of Kasvenogorod, the capital of Soviet Martilia, including its surrounding regions. Unlike the other cities within the country, Kasvenogorod is a city filled with federal government structures from bureau-level up to executive-level, the Kapitolyo ng Sobyet, and any weather disturbances within the city will not stall the economic development of the country. Nevertheless, a country like Soviet Martilia have established as one of the economic powers within the region even without the existence of capitalist corporations.

When the news of the revolution reached the Soviet Martilia it was quickly classified as C-I^[1], the highest military intelligence classification of the SFGB, but why? The Vast Dominion is nothing but a puny capitalist nation that is under the revolution from its people because of their oppressive and capitalistic selfish policies where what they only want is to get the money from their people through their products, but when military and intelligence officials look the country at a bigger picture, one can see a different perspective. First, the Vast Dominion is a member of the Anti-Communist Alliance, therefore members of the alliance will surely help the government of the Vast Dominion in quelling the revolution. Second, just like Soviet Martilia, the Vast Dominion is an economically powerful and the breaking out of revolution would give an opportunity for the communists to take over the country and hoping they would cripple the ACA^[2].

The discussion about the intervention of Soviet Martilia at the revolution have just began at the Bulwagan ng Matatapang, or Hall of the Strong, in the Decagon, a star shaped building and considered to be the headquarters and also one of the nerve centers of the country's armed forces. The General Staff, the Council of People's Commissariat, General Secretary Kalev Garcia, and Premier Josefa Dizon, have gathered in a huge circular table within the hall. A large transparent screen lit up at the center of the table showing a computer-generated image of Chernobl.

"Members of the General Staff, members of the Council of People's Commissariat, and the honorable Kalev Garcia.", Josefa Dizon stood up and greeted them with respect.

Dizon continued to talk to present what had transpired in the Soviet Congress, "Almost three hours ago, the Soviet Congress passed the Soviet War Bill No. 92 also known as the Declaration of War against the Vast Dominion. According to our laws, once the Soviet Congress passed a war bill it shall take effect immediately. General Secretary Kalev Garcia signed the bill half an hour ago and immediately, at this very moment, we are now at war with the Vast Dominion.".

Kalev Garcia suddenly stood up and decided to present the bill in detail. "According to the war bill, we are only at war against with Vast Dominion. This means that any nations who are involved that is supporting the said state is not considered as a hostile, for now, and this includes the member states of the ACA^[2]".

The room was at still silence as they continue to listen to Garcia. "It is stated on the war bill that we are only allowed a maximum deployment of 500,000 troops and personnel this includes the army, navy, air force and space force.".

"Only 500,000 troops and personnel? Shouldn't we increase our strength, comrade General Secretary?" Dreigov Yuvonich, the Staff Grand Marshal of the Armed Forces asked.

"Why should we increase it, Marshal?"

"Well, sir, we are going to fight against the members of the ACA. A half a million in strength would not suffice the capitalist onslaught and knowing that we are outnumbered by the number of nations involved in this conflict"

"Would you like me to reiterate that....."

"I know that, sir, but regardless of a formal declaration of war we will still encounter their forces and we will be forced to fight them."

"I know that also comrade, but you do know that some of our forces are committed to other theaters especially with the current Amarrian revolution."

"Then we should pull out from that revolution and refocus our forces in this theater", an argument almost engulfed within the room among the themselves but Dizon started to intervene, "Gentlemen, enough! We're civilized people here unlike those capitalists!".

There was a bit tension within the room as Dizon observes them. Garcia and Yuvonich soon sat down on their respective chairs and decided to let Dizon took over the discussion. "The Soviet Congress have passed the bill and it is stated that we can only send that size of military force in support of Chernobl. We have to respect the decision of our people comrade Yuvonich, and apparently our General Secretary agreed to the bill and all we have to do is respect it."

Yuvonich, who was furious at first, suddenly calmed down and nodded to Dizon signalling that he is now supporting the war even though with its limited military strength. Dizon who acknowledged Yavonich's response continued the discussion. "Since there are no additional objections, lets proceed to the entry strategy of our forces in Chernobl^[4].".

The meeting lasted for almost four hours before it ended. As soon as the plans were laid, the entire Soviet Martilian military were put on READCON 2-Alpha^[3] as they expect that the intervention of ACA might lead to a conflict between Martilia and ACA in conjunction with what is happening over Chernobl^[4].

Base Command Headquarters
Gabriela Luzuriaga Military Base
Harina, Soviet Martilia
November 19th, 2013 - 0236 Hours

Grand Field Marshal Cymon Escasa arrived at the Gabriela Luzuriaga Military Base early in the morning to oversee the military preparations at the base. Escasa has been assigned by the General Staff to lead the Soviet Martilian forces in aiding Chernoblian forces in their war, he is newly promoted at his rank, and have no experience in commanding such a huge military force.

Major General Ricardo Manansala, commander of the 67th Mechanized Division, greeted Escasa at the Base Command Headquarters and started to update him regarding the preparations. "Good to see you, Grand Field Marshal."

"You too, (Major) General", Escasa greeted back.

"Looks like we're going in for another "May Day War", sir?"

"What makes you say that, (Major) General?"

"Well apparently the armed forces, national guard and the defense forces are all at READCON 2-Alpha^[3]. This is the second-time we reached at that Readiness Condition ever since the May Day War, sir."

"We have to admit, (Major) General. We are facing an unimaginable threat, these people are savages and they will do anything to get what they want. We don't even know if they will attempt to get the war on our own soil."

"What do you think, sir?", Escasa paused for a moment. He knew that he cannot give any exact answer and decided to shift the topic regarding the preparation. "How's the preparation going, (Major) General?"

"Uh well, sir, my division is ready to be airlifted to Chernobl within two hours.

"Alright, I was briefed earlier by the officials from the Decagon of the plan. They said that the airlift will take three days before you arrive at the Chernoblian airspace. According to our intelligence the Chernoblian airspace is stil clear, we just don't know it yet if its the same after three days"

"When do we expect your arrival, sir?"

"Maybe within five to six days, (Major) General.", Escasa looked at his watched and realized its his time to inspect his troops at the base. "Alright, (Major) General, I'll talk to you when you get to Chernobl."

"Alright, sir.", Manansala saluted to Escasa before they parted ways. Major General Manansala quickly headed to the airfield to see if the preparations are now complete.

Somewhere off the Ocean - Task Force 78
BSM Kanlaon - Intrika-class Aircraft Carrier, Ship's Bridge
November 19, 2013 - 0723 Hours

Task Force 78 is one of the overseas patrol task forces who are tasked to safeguard the international and protected waters from pirates and poachers. Vice Admiral Theresa Doroteo, one of the female flag officers in the Navy, just came from the carrier deck when she received new orders from the Decagon.

"Ma'am!", one of the senior officers saluted her at the bridge.

"Any news from the Decagon?", Doroteo asked the officer.

"Well, yes, ma'am. Apparently we have new orders from the Decagon.", the senior officer gave Doreteo a piece of bond paper with a typewritten word "CLASSIFIED". She soon dismissed her senior officer and went to read the message at her own office privately. According to the Decagon, her task force will move to Chernobl and position at the south where they will assist the 14th Transport Air Division in bringing in Soviet Martilian forces safely to the ground and also assist all friendly forces within the region.

Apparently, her fleet was chosen because of their nearer to Chernobl than any other task forces available. It was also stated that her fleet will remain in position and hold out until the arrival of the larger 75th Fleet where they will be reassigned. Without any hesitation the task force set on course towards Chernobl.

^[5]

by **Wewtlandem** » Thu May 23, 2013 3:44 pm

International Waters, Off the coast of Chernobl

The Third Fleet was three hundred miles off the coast of Chernobl. On satellite photos, it showed up resembling a massive blob moving through the ocean. Aboard the flagship of the Fleet, the PSS People's Freedom, sat Admiral Konstantin Rokossovsky. The ship was a Longsword, one of the proudest, and most expensive assets of the People's Socialist Liberation Navy. He looked across the ocean laid out in front of him, and examined the lattice of aircraft carriers and support ships. Rokossovsky was a truly awesome looking man, standing at 6'10 and having a full head of silver hair, many respected him, he was 58 years old and had 40 years of military service.

The Third Fleet itself was one of legend, its origins in the People's Socialist Republic dated back to the Revolution. After the Revolution had been declared against the former monarchy, the men of the Third Fleet rebelled three months later in January of 1925. They captured and then executed all of the loyal officers of the Fleet and then, in a public ceremony, signed their loyalty to the Revolution and to Leon Seytsky, the founder and vanguard protector of the Revolution. This meant that serving in the Third Fleet was a true honor, and all of the men in the Fleet took it very seriously, and it was displayed by their discipline and combat records.

As the Third Fleet sailed towards their next battle in Chernobl, men were scrambling about all of the ships. There was a high risk of running into an enemy fleet considering the volume of nations involved in the conflict. But, Rokossovsky knew that none of the fleets deployed by hostile governments could match the sheer size and firepower of the Third Fleet. The Third Fleet was one of, if not the biggest in the People's Socialist Republic, and this meant a lot considering the existence of the other four Fleets of the People's Socialist Liberation Navy. Though the chance did not seem great, Rokossovsky was prepared for a battle in which he would lose a few ships to an admirably sized enemy effort.

The Fleet continued to sail, altering their course slightly so as to land at the opportune place to be closest to the last bastion of capitalist resistance to the popular Revolution, Byelostok. The port would be bombarded constantly by destroyers, missile cruisers, and the ever fearsome Longswords of the Third Fleet. Then the infantry transported would enter the city, followed by the members of the People's Socialist Unit for Revolutionary Protection who would crush any dissidence and then indoctrinate the remaining population with the ideals that most lined up to the leadership of the new communist regime in Chernobl. This tactic had been used before, and it was very effective.

by **The Sovietyeto** » Fri May 24, 2013 5:21 pm

Quite like the bear it was Russia stumbled out of its home and generally proceeded to give its opponents a general thrashing. In this case the coarse was more like an Eagle. Hovering overhead and plucking off what it pleased from above. The revolution in Chernobyl had not gone unnoticed in the Sovietyeto; Kuryak Poletski, Premier of the Soviet Union, was greatly interested in its success, as was the Soviet Congress. Revolution, the political way forward as was concerned, was a goal on a global scale. The next step was Chernobyl. Bollocks to those whom would strangle communism in its cradle. Most recently the green light had been given by the Congress to Kuryak to intervene. Soviet industry was about to ramp up another notch.

Kuryak finished typing up his message. Using the Soviet standard encryption it would be sent to the rebel leaders to coordinate a potential supply of arms and ammunition. Putting in his personal signature he closed up the last paragraph. It was short, but it also meant a good deal. The message would be sent on his command... They would need someone to give them the this month's 'codebooks' as well. You wouldn't be able to decrypt without a key from a character pool containing several different languages, some were made up (making it virtually impossible to break). It would be meaningless unless they could communicate with their comrades over the seas.

Советская директива - Десять революции
Шифрование: Москва-1

To whom it may concern,
I, Kuryak Poletski, am Premier of the Sovietyeto. Across the globe we hear your struggle against the bourgeois brats of your country. In your time of glory our hearts and minds are with you.

In this case we are prepared to supply your fight. Upon reading this we are certain you will accept our offer to aid you. This letter is short but it's meaning is potent. Let us tie the knot if friendship between the Sovietyeto and Chernobyl.

Proposed ORBAT
-Monthly shipments of 10,000 AK 74's
-Monthly shipments of 3,000 Command and Support Vehicles
-Monthly Shipments of 1,000 Assorted Tank Models
-Monthly Shipments of 500 Assorted Self Propelled Gun Models
-Weekly Shipments of Assorted Ammunitions (estimated 100 Tonnes)
-Weekly Shipments of Assorted Foodstuffs (estimated 1,000 Tonnes)

This ORBAT will change based on your request, and/or if we deem it necessary to modify. I have sent an operative to contact you. His name is Yuri Kratanov. He has served as a Soviet Special Operative for several years and will serve as our link. Respond when you receive this message.

Yuri sat quite comfortably in the helicopter. The pilots were not having such a good time. One had already thrown up, just badly avoid the windshield and found into a bucket. As far as flying they were greenhorns; Yuri would have to ask who chose not to put professionals in the cockpit when this was done... If it ever was done and he came out alive and well. "Best not think about that"
"What?!" Yelled the pilot over the pitter patter of the storm on the windshield.
Yuri paused. "I was just saying It's best not to think about crashing."
"Damn right!"
"I know, is it usually this bad?"
"No" commented the second pilot who was still looking quite green.
The first chimed in again. "We're just not lucky today. But, nothing we can't handle."
Yuri grinned. "Good!"
The first pilot smiled back. The second gave a kind of grimace and threw up into the bucket again.

About 2 an Half Hours Later
The black unmarked helicopter flew over Hero's Square. A few shots were fired but it wasn't certain which side they were from. A little but further on there was a large tower with some pretty nasty scars. The tower overlooked a kind of pale mass. The bulwark of peoples. The helicopter landed without much incident. When I'd did land and the doors swung open Yuri was greeted by the click of loaded AK-47s. They were lowered when he began to speak of his homeland and intent. Anything beyond those first few words was rolled over by a wave of speech.
"URRRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRAAAAAAAA!"

International Waters Near Chernobl

Ensign of the Soviet Navy

The TKBS-999 was cruising quite comfortably. He was in no hurry (ships are regarded as masculine in Russia as I remember). The silent drive were slow and, well, silent. The 999 was also a bit of an oddity. Submarines were supposed to have a number in the 600 to 900 range. Large boats had one that was 1000 plus. But since it was the world largest submarine it was given the triple nine. Despite its massive size it was had no detectable sonar trace to all but the most sensitive equipment an the best ears that were looking for it. Even then it was uneven and sounded nothing like a regular submarine screw while using the silent drives. The Soviet Navy had only one, and it had been expensive.

The TKBS-999 did this by using either a regular screw system (two screws) or a 'silent drive' which was operated by moving water using a series of electro magnets through shafts though the submarine. It had no moving parts and was extremely quite. It's hull was also titanium and created no magnetic anomalies. These an quite a few other tricks had made the 999 the ultimate stealth weapon. It could sneak in, deliver a punch, and get out just as quietly. Even if it was detected it was supportive to most in both defense in offense with the best weaponry an the finest crew to command it.

The currently mission was to hover off of Chernobl's waters and be ready if it was necessary to get involved. Of all ships it would be their first.

by **Martilia** » Sat May 25, 2013 6:08 am

Over Chernoblian airspace
14th Transport Air Squadron
D-325 Madilat - T-minus 2 hours
November 22, 2013 - 0842 Hours

It is quite clear and quiet over the skies of Chernobl as the sun rises from the horizon and the ocean dances with the wind, but it soon collapsed when the roaring engines of the 14th Transport Air Squadron echoed at the sky. Captain Reginald Torres, who just woke up from his nap at the cockpit, is the commander of the air division and is in one of the D-325 Madilat super heavy-lift transport planes en route to Chernobl.

Torres was quickly notified by his co-pilot that they are now entering the Chernoblian airspace and was also given the latest intelligence provided from the Decagon of any military movements within the region. According to the report only Soviet^[1] forces are present within the region, which means that there are no capitalist swines yet, and the entire Chernoblian airspace are clear from enemy aircraft and ground AA systems.

"This is Pamuno-Alpha, speaking, we are now entering the Chernoblian airspace. All units we are now on status RED, please change your altitude to the designated point according to our flight plan. We should be expecting to arrive at Ground Zero within two hours and it should be clear, over.", Torres relayed to the other pilots. The aircraft tankers soon disengaged from the team and quickly head back to Soviet Martilia, the remaining fuel within their tanks should be enough to get them back to the base safely.

It is also part of their flight plan that the aircraft from Task Force 78 would join them and protect them until the reach their destination, but the task force is not yet within the area leaving them open against any enemy interceptors who might attempt to intercept them. Torres decided that he should contact their Soviet^[1] allies for assistance.

Code: Select all: ENCRYPTION: VERY HIGH TO: SOVIET(YETO) NAVAL FLEET <START> THIS IS THE 14TH AIR TRANSPORT DIVISION OF SOVIET MARTILIA. WE ARE ASKING FOR IMMEDIATE FIGHTER ASSISTANCE UNTIL WE HAVE REACHED OUR DESTINATION. WE ARE CURRENTLY VULNERABLE IN CHERNOBLIAN AIRSPACE. WE ARE HOPING FOR YOUR IMMEDIATE RESPONSE <END>

by **Nachfolgia** » Sat May 25, 2013 6:53 am

Burgas Harbor, Burgas, Nachfolgia

In the past couple of days, activity in Burgas Harbor increased dramatically as troops and supplies poured into the industrial port, ready to be shipped to the Vast Dominion. Mountains of grey, metallic supply crates were piled inside warehouses in the industrial section of the port. Each crate was individually marked and serialized to denote what the contents of the crate was, red was for ammo, black for weapons, yellow for food, orange for utilities, and light grey for uniforms. Every crate of every size was marked with an eagle with outstretched wings holding a wreath with the German cross in the middle, denoting that the crate and its contents were the property of the Nachfolgian Reich. Several men wearing the bluish grey uniform of the Kriegsmarine were taking inventory of every crate in the warehouses and recording that number in the tablet each of them was holding. Several other Kriegsmarine sailors, driving industrial forklifts, carried the crates outside the warehouses to be picked up by a crane and brought on board one of many cargo ships heading for The Vast Dominion.

Outside the warehouses in another part of the port, a sea of green flooded the port as thousands of troops poured into Burgas Harbor. The soldiers stood out in their woodland flecktarn pattern camouflage against the many shades of grey of the port. Each soldier carried a full combat load, flak jacket, Kevlar, ammo, grenades, food, uniforms, IFAK, personal items, and whatever else they needed. They also carried their own weapon, whether it was the G36, its varients, HK416, MP7, HK UMP, Rheinmetall MG3, or one of many different caliber mortars. Many soldiers covered their face with a black face mask. On their right shoulder was a black shield patch with a white border and two white sig runes in the center, the patch of the infamous Waffen-SS. An organization infamous for its death camps and brutal execution of 7 million people during WWII. Nowadays, its the largest organization in the Nachfolgian Reich, controlling every aspect of the government, from special operations and combat missions to public safety and infrastructure. On the other shoulder was a similar shield patch with a concave corner, denoting the unit the soldier was in, whether it was the 10th SS Panzer, 2nd SS, or any of the other 39 combat divisions. A majority of the invasion force consisted of Waffen-SS, but also had units from the Heer, Panzergrenadier, Gebirgsjäger, Fallschirmjäger, as well as the Aüslander Truppen.

100 miles up the coast in the post city of Varna, the sound of engines and the smell of gasoline permeated. Thousands of Leopard 2s, Boxer APCs, Puma and Marder IFVs, Wiesel AWCs, LIVs, Panzerhaubitze 2000, engineering vehicles, and various other vehicles rolled into the port of Varna to board landing craft that would take them to the transport ships bound for the Vast Dominon. The sound of tracks rolling over concrete could be heard as the giant behemoths that was the Leopard 2 MBT and the Panzerhaubitze 2000 made their way to their designated landing craft. The Nachfolgian Heer prided itself on its massive army of Panzers. Like the usual German fashion, The Heer has used Panzers in every single engagement, shirting the tide of battle and winning wars. The Heer is about to accomplish the same feat of military might against the Communist.

In Burgas Harbor, a massive group of about 1,000 soldiers stood outside the port, waiting to board the transport ships. These soldier's skin was tanner and their hair was darker than the typical white skinned Nachfolgian. These soldiers were Persians, former citizens and soldiers of the Greater Persian Republic, a nation that the Nachfolgian Reich and the German Empire conquered and colonized during the German-Persian war. Thousands of Persians were forced into uniform to serve in the Wehrmacht, one of many attempts to humiliate and assimilate the Persians including forcing them to swear loyalty, learn german, adopt the religion of both the Reich and the German Empire, disband the government and what was left of the Persian military, and pay war reparations.

The Persians soldiers watched as line after line of Nachfolgians walked past them. Many of the Nachfolgian soldiers glared coldly at the Tan skinned Persians, like they were disgusted by the sight of the Persians. One SS soldier, noticing the Persians a couple of yards away, nudged the soldier next to them. The two smiled as they saw the Persians.

" Hey Krueger, doesn't this remind you of when we burned Persia to the ground and killed all those Blatt-kopfs." The soldier said with a smile, intending for the Persians to hear.

" yeah, I remember our Hauptsturmführer had us round up an entire village of Blatt-kopfs and mowed them down like the dogs they are with a couple of MG3, leaving them dead in the sand and their huts on fire." Krueger replied. The two laughed as they continued to walk. A Persian, angry at what the two Nachfolgians said, took a couple of steps towards the line of Nachfolgians, despite pleas from the other Persians.

" Hey, we fought hard like you now we wear same uniform. So, please show us respect." The Persian yelled at the two Nachfolgians.

" What did you say, Blatt-kopf." The Nachfolgian said as he walked up to the Persian, getting in his face. " How about you get rid of that disgusting accent and speak some real German so I can hear you better." The Nachfolgian said. Suddenly, he hit the Persian in the stomach with the butt of his assault rifle, driving him to the ground. The other Persians in the area looked on in shock, not wanting to get involved out of fear of the Nachfolgians. Several Nachfolgians that were passing by, smiled and laughed at the sight, some of them stopping to watch.

" You Persians deserved worse than you got. You deserve the same fate that we're going to give those fucking communist. I thought you Blatt-kopfs learned who is superior around here. You better pray to your barbarian god that I don't find you out in the field." The Nachfolgian said. A couple of Nachfolgians motioned for the soldier to move along and get on board the ships. The Nachfolgians that had stopped spit at the Persians before walking away.

by **Vlack Sturm** » Sat May 25, 2013 8:24 am

Gray Citadel,
Randgriz-Vasaholm,
Sturmian Federation

Premier Wilhelm Rygaard stared at a map alongside the High Command. Although during times of war the Premier may take all political power from the Grand Assembly, he did not control everything in peacetime or on expeditions like this one. He still had the High Command to use at his disposal whether they be security, intelligence, or armed forces' commanders. The Premier had been explaining the strategy for the Armada when the Elite Guard Marshal entered and said in a gruff Germanic accent, "Sir, the Terror Brigade is ready to lead the Sturmian Federal Military forward in the Campaign."

"Thank you, Marshal Wolf," responded Premier Rygaard. His one good eye were gray-blue and when he stared at someone it was like he was piercing their soul with a cold blade. His other eye was covered by a black eye patch and the slightly tanned skin toned face had several scars from his years at war. His black hair was neatly combed back. He was tall like all Sturmian males, at 6 feet 4 inches tall. At either side of him were two Elite Guardsmen.

The High Command continued to hear the plan, until the meeting was completely over. Then the officers began to file out of the room, shaking the hand of the Premier. They all left to prepare their commands of what is to happen with the campaign. Many of the Elite Guardsmen in the room, making sure no one entered, then accompanied him back to the Grand Assembly for his speech.

Communications Center Alpha,
Randgriz-Vasaholm,
Sturmian Federation

The technician in his shit brown uniform sleepily opened his eyes at the red light flashing from the computer screen. He drowsily asked for a cup of coffee which came to him faster than he expected. He thanked the young female Sturmian. She giggled at him, but he took no further heed of her because on his screen were the words: Prepare all forces, this is not a drill!

He quickly picked up his headphones and microphone, and then began speaking the words. All around him, technicians wearing the same shit brown uniform were saying the same thing.

Sturmian Federal Vessel Devastator,
Port Prosperity,
Sturmian Federation

Washing the shoreline in slow intervals, the briny foam swished and swashed. Anchored in the salty harbor, the Devastator sat idly as its crew marched on and off, to and fro from the docked ship. Captain Samuel Shames sipped his steaming coffee, nearly spilling it unto his bleached-white uniform.

Gulping every drop, attempting to battle the encroachment of sober boredom. It was nearly time for the Devastator to undergo a refit while the rest of 17th Fleet remained dock as their mother-ship was updated. Shames tapped his callused fingers on the green display. Taking another swig of his now receding coffee, he remained puzzled by an earlier message he received from headquarters.

In it contained orders, orders he gravely deplored. He took his final gulp, slurping it down his throat. He wiped his coffee-wet mouth and walked over to sit in his chair. He grabbed the microphone for the on-board announcement system. He clicked the button and allowed his voice bellow through,

"Full speed out. All men to battle-stations. Begin preparations for combat. Systems check, and alert the entire fleet. We are going to assist the Chernoblians in peaceful measures. But be prepared for anything."

A grim look overtook the largely untested crew as they rushed through the halls to prepare the formerly peaceable vessel for war. A war it would be indeed. The rest of the fleet's captains were equally chagrin as their crew. Could the dawn of conflict be approaching the Federation so eerily and yet so quickly? Nay they thought, this must be a drill. It had to be a drill. They hoped it was a drill. On the Devastator, Shames sunk into his leather chair. His lips showed a man who was contempt at the thought of battle, or whatever the High Command called it. So many young men will die. So many widows will it make. He pondered to himself of the consequences of what command ordered.

He had faith however. Faith in God. Faith in his colossal ship. Faith in his fifty ship fleet. But faith, as he well-knew, could not win battles. Faith could not win wars. Faith, was perhaps useless other than for giving good-comfort. Shames lost track of time and view in his thinking. Though his was little-aware, his crew was not. They pushed the Devastator, and the crews of the other ships equally brought the nuclear reactors on their vessels pushing full throttle. All fifty ships roared out of the harbor. Their R&R cut short, and their lives now at stake. Possibly death was at hand.

With the sea being cut by the bow, Shames awoke from his daydream and gave the orders that no-one alluded, "Full speed ahead, towards Chernobl." With the orders spoken, his crew complied, and the reactor glowed, the engines churned, and the ship sailed. Full on into a reckoning.

Port Tyranny,
Sturmian Federation

An acrid but alluring aroma arose from the Port Tyranny at late morning. Its scent was carried from a Asherachi westerly wind that blew in from the stormy sea. The smell, a volatile mixture of boots, wretched minds, and an absence of derelict. Flotillas of warships lay buoyant, as earth shattering vehicles…and men filled the ships in emotion-less chains as they recited their duties in an almost superfluous format. Their sharp metallic voices pricking the wind with each word, their boots began almost a rhythmic orchestra. Crisp and efficient, the regiments, divisions, of soldiers had assembled into an immense war machine of destruction.

Grouped in a large airy chamber below the Gray Citadel, a contingent of men sat stern faced toward his Excellency, Wilhelm Rygaard. Wearing proudly hard earned military decorations, but it was the room that marveled many of the generals and other military commanders inside the room. Their rooms were nowhere near this profusely filled with pomp and grandeur. However, Premier's grim voice was on the mind of everyone as of now.

“I have been notified, during our meetings that a quick efficient strike is possible and should be able to wear down our fellow Anti-Communists' military. Of course, this barring any…indecisiveness on the behalf of either armed forces. Also be prepared for a long, drawn-out engagement,” the Premier gave a quick glance at some of the generals who gave a non-permissible peek at the dossier’s laid out on their desk.

Federal Marshal of the Ground Forces Paul Ryner rose, and his old, short diminutive figure a source of amusement to some of the others. However, his voice boomed forward, like the impending approach and doom of the Sturmia's war machine. “I wish to say something."

Rygaard nodded his approval, and the Federal Marshal continued,“It is best, that we conceal our movements from our fellow alliance members. We must not allow them them to know of our true intent until we wish it be.”[/b]

Several of commanders nodded at the Marshal's words. Wilhelm Rygaard nodded to Ryner to sit and with a sign of approval, he said, "Thank you, Ryner. Gentlemen and ladies, if we wish to leave the alliance we will but first let them know of our betrayal soon. After we carry out our attacks."

Miles away, Sturmian ships sliced through the waters with a vengeance. It was time…once more.

by **Virana** » Sat May 25, 2013 4:03 pm

[OOC: Sorry for the late post guys. Been tied down by RL stuff lately.]

Embassy of the United Republic, Civitas Maxima
Civitas Maxima, Vast Dominion
November 18

"Ambassador Max, we have to get out of here." The aide was freaking out, trembling violently as she rummaged through the drawers to make sure all the written documents were burned or shredded.

The ambassador nodded as he watched the computer screen in the room, waiting for the loading bar to fill up. Once it did, the screen read "Disk wiped".

"It's done," he announced, lifting himself from his seat. "Let's go."

The two stormed through the room, followed by a majority of the rest of the diplomatic staff. "State's getting us tickets now," one of them said, looking at his phone. "Five flights, five airlines, all to Freeport, New Belhavia. And from there home to Chaleur. Longass flights if you ask me."

"Let's pray to god the airports are still operational," another responded. "I mean shit, with this kind of revolution do flights just keep flying?"

Ambassador Max stepped in. "We need to hurry," he said hastily, as they exited the main building and entered the vehicles in the small parking lot in the compound. With them came a host of marine security personnel, dressed now in their combat uniforms and holding firearms for protection.

The vehicles moved out of the gates, leaving behind the empty building. In the streets they encountered crowds and crowds of protestors, many of which were armed; so, the drivers stayed incognito as they blended in with the rest of traffic and rushed out of the city towards the international airport.

Central Tower
Civitas Maxima
Vast Dominion
1049 hours
November 18

"Hunter 7, this is Hunter 8, we have a visual on a low-flying, low-speed aircraft; standby for confirmation, over."

Sammon, the leader of the team, stopped. A low flying aircraft? A few seconds later, the same voice came again over the radio.

"Hunter 7, Hunter 8, it's a helicopter at the roof of Building Alpha. It looks like it's dropping some kind of reinforcements."

Sammon sighed as his team sprinted through the building's stairwells. They were supposed to be rescuing Supreme Chairman Erich Tjaden by coming through the front door of the building. Now someone was trying to beat them to the man?

A second voice came on radio, this one lower and more commanding. "Hunter, this is Plate 4-3, be advised, drone has unidentified helicopters at the roof of your building. Your choice to proceed, over."

"Plate 4-3, Hunter 7, we're staying," Sammon responded on his radio. "We're getting this man out."

"Suit yourself, Hunter. Watch yourselves in there, we've confirmed the package is on floor 1-3-6, I say again, floor 1-3-6."

"Hunter copies all," he responded as the team continued running through. They found few straggling communist fighters and fired at them, the hail of 6.35 mm bullets piercing through their body armor and helmets and lodging themselves into their bodies.

Above them, they could hear voices yelling and the periodic gunfire. About halfway up, they found themselves walking in to the massive gunfight.

In front of them they saw what looked like almost hundreds of communist revolutionaries, focusing their fire on a single corner of the floor.

"Open fire, weapons free!" Sammons yelled as his team took their positions in the room and fired. In the chaos, several communists died as they failed to realize their enemies were behind them. Once they did, they understood they were sandwiched in between.

"I have a visual on the package!" one of the team yelled at the top of his lungs. "He's captured!"

"We'll get him," another said as they continued firing controlled semi-automatic shots at the enemies.

At that instant, a grenade flew from somewhere in the room. Someone yelled "GRENADE!", but their voice was largely drowned out by the gunfire. The grenade exploded, the body of a special operator flying off with the explosion.

"Men down, we've got men down!" Sammons screamed. "Get medevac here now!"

"Aye, sir. I'm radioing—" the operator was hit in the face clean by a bullet, falling on the ground.

"FUCK!" Sammons exclaimed, examining the man's body for any sign of life as bullets whizzed across in every direction. Everything was falling apart. He couldn't afford to think much about his dead teammates; all that mattered was the mission. He looked at what was left of his team—the battered and bruised warriors in Haddad and Masih that gritted their teeth and stood by him. By this time, the rebels were hanging on by their last threads.

The last rebel was on his knees, his AK pointed towards them. Reflexively, Sammons squeezed his trigger three times, hitting the man in his chest and, with the last shot, the head.

And then they engaged the personnel on the side—who had also been firing at the rebels. These were more skilled; rather than conscripted rebel fighters, these seemed to be some kind of special operations forces much unlike Sammons' team.

The two sides exchanged rounds and took cover, attempting to overcome the other through tactics and sheer firepower. But with only three men left, Sammons was running low on the latter.

by **The Sovietyeto** » Sat May 25, 2013 7:07 pm

Soviet Aircraft Carrier Murmansk, International Waters Near Chernobl.

"Incoming transmission, Comrade Captain!"
Captain Gorshev Frown. It wasn't an 'I'm not happy frown' but more of a 'What now?' frown.
"Nationality?"
"Um... Martilian."
"Is that certain?"
The technician was now frowning as well, but the difference was that sweat was now starting to pour from his face.
"Yes, Comrade Captain. I am certain."
"Print it so I can read it." Commanded Gorshev.
"Yes, sir!"
With the press of a button the message was decrypted and given to Captain Gorshev. The technician handed the message to the captain before saluting him and leaving the captains quarters.

Code: Select all: ENCRYPTION: VERY HIGH TO: SOVIET(YETO) NAVAL FLEET <START> THIS IS THE 14TH AIR TRANSPORT DIVISION OF SOVIET MARTILIA. WE ARE ASKING FOR IMMEDIATE FIGHTER ASSISTANCE UNTIL WE HAVE REACHED OUR DESTINATION. WE ARE CURRENTLY VULNERABLE IN CHERNOBLIAN AIRSPACE. WE ARE HOPING FOR YOUR IMMEDIATE RESPONSE <END>

Gorshev's frown turned to a smile. Brothers in arms in the sky. That was definitely something he would approve of. He would have to authorize it though. But, in the meantime he could put some birds in the air. They could quickly respond if he got approval, if not they would only have to land and no harm done. He would have to go to the bridge and as fast as possible. It should t be too long if he ran.

Button his uniform as he bolted down the hallway Gorshev nearly hit the Cook's Assistant. There was no time to stop. He looked a bit funny running up the grey metal staircases like a young schoolboy. But no one would be willing to comment, he was a high ranking officer that had preformed very well in both the Leningrad Naval Academy and in times of conflict and action. He had a full head of hair back then. Now his gray hairs were receding. His crew had given him the nickname 'Grampa Gorshev'. He had never minded it. Moral was always good when Grampa was in command.

When he arrived at the bridge he wasn't gasping as most men his age might have. He could thank his years in the navy for that. The Rear Admiral, Marat Avdonin, was already present. Gorshev saluted, "Admiral, I have received a message from the nation of Martilia. They are attempting to assist the rebels."
Rear Admiral Avdonin remain silent. Gorshev handed him the printed message.
"They request that we send them escorts, we shall not fire unless we are fired upon of coarse..."
Avdonin looked up from the print.
"I will relay that to Moscow. You can prepare to launch in the meantime."
Gorshev saluted again and left to go to the flight control deck. Marat turned around and paused. Turing around again he began talking with the operators in the bridge.

Moscow promptly responded. Avdonin had received the authorization. No sooner than that when Gorshev began launched the Sukhoi PAK FAs. The Murmansk held 4 bomber aircraft, 8 recon aircraft, and 30 fighter aircraft. It could technically hold another 15 planes, but it had not left with a full complement of them. If the situation escalated more aircraft would come. It was only a handful of destroyers, the Murmansk, and the TKBS-999 which was maintaining a strict silence. However more boats would come in time. Both Gorshev and Avdonin knew the Moscow Aircraft Carrier would arrive with a full complement of 128 planes. The Moscow was a monster of a boat. Four nuclear powered screws propelled a hull measuring 157 by 504 meters. Holding 70 Sukhoi PAK FAs, 25 Polkovodets-5 (bombers), 15 MiG-31s, and 18 Ka-150 Helicopters. It's carrier group consisted of another 8 Destroyers, 10 Attack Submarines, 4 Cruisers, 2 Frigates, and an Anti-Mine Boat. These boats could also carry another 14 Helicopters. If the Soviet Navy could receive this force it would be a considerable collection.

This force would be she parsing the transports and cargo ships passing through. Even still they would be escorted. There would also be a great deal of arial involvement. Air transport would be following a scrambled route although no final destinations had been set yet. Depending on how 'the rebels took to taking' as it were.

Code: Select all: ENCRYPTION: VERY HIGH TO: 14TH AIR TRANSPORT DIVISION OF SOVIET MARTILIA <START> YOU HAVE CONTACTED THE SOVIET AIRCRAFT CARRIER MURMANSK. YOUR CONTACT HAS BEEN CONFIRMED AND YOUR REQUEST FOR ESCORT HAS BEEN APPROVED. EIGHT SUKHOI PAK FA PLANES HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED TO PROTECT YOU. ANOTHER TWO WILL BE SENT TO TRAIL BEHIND AS A REAR GUARD. YOU WILL BE SAFE. WE WILL NOT FIRE UNLESS WE OR YOU ARE FIRED UPON OR IF POTENTIAL HOSTILES APPROACH AND DO NOT BACK OFF. PLEASE CONFIRM THAT YOU HAVE RECEIVED THIS MESSAGE AS SOON AS YOU HAVE RECEIVED IT. <END>

For what it was worth the PAK was a very good plane. It had low observability. It had two 30mm cannons and a two internal bays measuring about 4 meters by one meter. It's maximum speed was just over Mach 2 and its ferry range was almost 6,000 kilometers. It had 10 internal hard points and 6 external ones. Using active electronically scanned array radar, 3D vectoring engines, and certain computing advancements the planes were highly maneuverable. They could even automatically share data an coordinate their flight. Instead of conventional rudders it used fully moveable vertical tails and also horizontal stabilators. (TG me of you have any more questions or something else, this is based off of the RL PAK FA)

Its also had an infrared search and tracking system of it chose not to use radar. This had considerably less range, but emitted no radiation, making it significantly harder to detect. It functioned even better than radar at close range in many cases as well; it was a good addition. Holding up to ten bombs in its bays and multiple missiles in its pylons it was a formidable foe. A true fifth generation aircraft.

by **Castille de Italia** » Sun May 26, 2013 8:15 am

North Shore Naval and Air Military Complex, The Castillian Empire

Several tugboats pulled an armada of ships out of the largest naval installation in the entire Empire. The ante had been amped up to two-hundred thousand Legionnaires and Marines, under the 316th Grand Legion and the 56th Imperial Marine Division who would bravely storm the beaches of Chernobl, and eliminate the Communist threat once and for all. As the ships pulled out of their docks, jets flew overhead, and cargo transports began flying out to begin the Counterrevolution. Admiral Hieronimus looked on from the bridge of the ICN Perseverance.

"Guglielmus, has the Chairman of Chernobl been notified?" the Admiral asked a communications officer to his right. "Yes sir, the ACA is fully mobilizing now. We're one of the first to pull out of port" the officer replied. The Admiral smirked, and took a sip of his coffee. Another beautiful sunrise over North Shore, and another war order to go to war. The Admiral took his seat the at the helm, and watched as several officers and technicians in white uniforms typed away at computers and watched radars. He hadn't seen an armada this big assembled since Anglynova.

All Engines Foward glowed in red throughout the carrier as the tugboats unmoored from the ships and the propellers of each of the ships in the massive warfleet started up and propelled them foward. "All engines foward!" an Imperial sailor yelled down in the lower levels as dirty and sweaty men in coveralls worked in what was known as the "Cave" by those on the upper levels, and its denizens, the dirty and sweaty men wearing coveralls, were referred to as the "Cave Dwellers."

"Skipper, I want all hands on on deck," Admiral Hieronimus said to his skipper to the left. Per his superiors request, the skipper grabbed the intercoms handle, and said, "All hands on deck, I repeat, all hands on deck." Then he twisted a knob in which a whistle soon followed. Soon, all the hands were on deck, and the Admiral went atop the stoop that overlooked the flight deck, with most of the ships crew and the Legionnaires and Marines who would storm the beaches of Chernobl assembled as well.

"Men, today marks the greatest day of your lives. You will be taking the fight against the Red Menace to their homeland. This will be no Anglynova, in fact, many of you will die. But you shall die knowing you fought a valiant cause. We are thousands strong, but they are millions strong. What they do not have, however, is organization. They are still fighting a revolution, and do not know of our attack. You shall be the dominant primordial beast, you shall be the monsters, who the revolutionaries will fear, you will be the legendary men who fought off wave after wave of the Red Menace, the Great Satan himself, who failed in another attempt to convert his devilish nature upon a once great people. Men, I have never asked much of you, but in this glorious campaign, I shall ask one more thing. Kill every commie bastard that you see. Murder them, brutalize them, chop them into little pieces. I want them to remember the erroneous revolution that we fight against today. Today, men, the Counterrevolution begins!"

Everybody cheered, as the Admiral waved and walked back into the bridge. Morale was high, but not for long.

My Fanfics · by **Osea 767** » Mon May 27, 2013 10:01 am

People's Commissariat of Defence, St Stepansburg
Federal Socialist Republic of Yaroslavl

The news about the current crisis in Chernobyl ensured that it was a common topic in the soviet. To some, the manner in which every topics seemed to somehow deviate towards sympathy contests and similar contests in trying to produce more heated denunciations of the ACA and opponents of the new socialist state. While this exercise was something that some were relishing, everyone knew this was but a prelude to the real event. The FSRY would soon move towards war.

This did not mean it was not of importance. Soon, a declaration of hostilities with the former government and its supporters would be made there, due to the efforts of the ruling coalition. But much of what was to happen would be decided in another place. That place was the Defence Commissariat, located not in Serovskaya, but in Stepansburg.

In addition to the General Staff, there were other individuals who had joined them in the conference room assigned for the meeting. The first figure was Nikolai Stepashin, the Defence Commissar himself. They were also joined by Vladimir Isyanov, the Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars, and Anastasia Saravaisky, his deputy.

The war plan had been laid out by Mikhail Kalinnikov, the chief of the General staff. The strongest part of their deployment would be naval and would serve to secure naval routes for the use of the Communist side. There was also to be a troop deployment, perhaps two armies joined together as an army corps.

“It will not be able to decide events on its own” Kalinnikov admitted. “Our naval force will be able to have a decisive effect, potentially, but we will not be able to maximise our chances without allied support”.

Isyanov was a little concerned. “It seems rather risky. Is there no alternative?”

“Unfortunately not, when one considers the potential regional threats to the motherland. There are clear limitations on our ability to intervene created by this. But it is either this or give them nothing”.

Isyanov's expression hardened. “That is not an option. Your plan has my approval”.

Saravaisky added “It has mine also”

“Thank you, comrade. The relevant orders must be prepared and dispatched quickly.”

At that, Kalinnikov smiled. “They have already been drafted. As for dispatching the, that can be done as soon as this meeting is over”.

“That is efficient of you. But you will have to wait. We have other issues to discuss first”.

Red Workers Navy Base, Konstantingrad
Federal Socialist Republic of Yaroslavl

A great fleet was in the process of leaving the naval base and local bases in the area. The force numbered in the hundreds of warships, varying from small frigates to the three Longsword Class ships that formed the centre of the fleet. It had been sometime since the fleet had deployed like this, yet constant training had minimised the effect of fleet action. This mattered due to the complexities of a fleet like this leaving port at once.

One of the objectives of the fleet concerning the transport ships with them. That was to aid in the transportation of a Yaroslavian army, numbering over a hundred thousand in numbers, to Chernobyl. The second was to meet up with allied naval forces, in order to work with them in future operations. Messages had been sent to allied states in that regard and the distance between Yaroslavl and Chernobyl meant thy could go on their journey and be sure that they would have enough time to alter their plans and course if needed.

The navy was as ready as it was ever going to be. Yet the time until it would be tested was, for better or worse depending on your opinion of the fleet, quite a while away.

Naval ORBAT

by **Martilia** » Fri May 31, 2013 4:28 am

Fort Tiber, Chernobl^[1]
14th Transport Air Squadron
D-325 Madilat - T-minus 26 minutes
November 22, 2013 - 1016 Hours^[2]

It was the moment that all they've been waiting for three days as the skies remained clear over Chernobl, the military base of Fort Tiber appeared on the horizon. Captain Reginald Torres sighed on relief as they were able to fly over Chernobl without getting into any battle. As soon as Torres sees the airfield he quickly ordered to descend in landing altitude, he also thanked and notified the Soviet^[3] fighter escorts and its fleet for escorting them to Fort Tiber safely.

The planes attempts to line up as they approach the runway, Lieutenant Basilio's plane was the first on the line to land, flying a D-312 heavy-lift cargo plane much smaller than D-325 although identical in its design, it contains almost 2,000 troops and personnel from the 156th Infantry Brigade. Basilio knew that his plane is target practice for any enemy troop AAs that might try to bring it down, that's why the plane is equipped with a computer-controlled dorsal and lower-side turret armed with machine guns. It can be used to deter any enemy troop attempts in shooting the plane down within the radius of almost half a kilometer^[4].

While the other planes are continuing to align with Basilio's plane, Torres quickly contacted the airbase control tower in preparation for landing, "This is Sierra-Madre 8-26, awaiting confirmation to land on Runway 09-13 along with other eight planes, over.". Torres and the other pilots waits for the reply of the control tower.

Somewhere over the skies
101st Attack Sqdn; 56th & 57th Fgtr. Sqdn
November 22, 2013 - 1016 Hours - T-minus 3 hours

Meanwhile, the 101st, 56th, and 57th Fighter Squadron are now near-approaching the Chernoblian airspace. These squadrons are part of the initial contingent force that was sent to Chernobl via airlift, they we're delayed because of they have to land in two carrier task forces that they have encountered along the way to refuel their drop tanks^[5] and their fuel tanks.

They're in the middle of the last leg of their journey which approximately will take five hours along with them are four air tankers which just rendezvous with them. These four tankers will supply the entire three squadrons the fuel they need for the last leg of their journey, and unlike the previous air tankers who escorted the 14th, they will land at Fort Tiber and remain there to supply also the tanks, artillery, and other military vehicles and aircraft with fuel for almost five days or until the main Soviet Martilian forces arrived at Chernobl.

The Sacred War (Workers of the World Unite! IC CLOSED)

Approach!

Who is online