[Earth II] The Quiet War

[Layarteb]

Prologue
Consequences

December 5, 2014 - 18:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Royal Palace of Tripoli
(32° 53' 16" N, 13° 11' 21" E)

Mazhar Shafiq Antar was the last to enter the King's office and he did with a folder in his hand and nothing else. It was marked with all manner of stamps indicating that the contents were highly classified and he handed them not to the King's guest - though they were intended for him - but to the King himself. King Yusuf III smiled and thanked his aide, asking him to be seated. "Thank you Mazhar," he said, "sit with us."

"Yes Your Majesty," Mazhar sat as he'd been instructed leaving an air of silence inside of the room.

"This is for your chief of station," King Yusuf III finally said after a few moments. He put the folder onto his desk and slid it forward to the seasoned diplomat before him who took the folder and placed it in his lap, keeping it closed for the time being. The King appreciated the discipline, "The Apilonian strike was more successful than they could have imagined. It seems that Musa Safar was killed in yesterday's strikes and they've set an entirely new chain of events in place, a chain of events I might not appreciate." Musa Safar was one of four (five if you counted the government) warlords that controlled northern Cyrenaica. His territory included the port city of Benghazi and the surrounding area known as Hizam al Akhdar.

"The strike came as a surprise to us Your Majesty. Had we known about it ahead of time we might have asked them to hold if only for a day so that we could assess the impact," responded Jamie Koehler, the sixty-two year old Layartebian ambassador who'd been summoned to meet with King Yusuf III only four hours earlier.

"Well I doubt that would have changed things. Whatever intelligence they had was actionable I am sure. I have my own chief of intelligence running a post mortem on the situation. In the meantime, inside there," he motioned with his chin to the folder, "you'll find something of great interest. Safar was something of a power broker amongst the other warlords. He was able to keep all of them neutral with one another by some manner we cannot fully ascertain. Now that he's dead there's a big vacuum in his territories for a new leader and in this moment of weakness it seems that opportunists have arisen."

"Al-Shams?"

"No," King Yusuf III shook his head for emphasis. "'President' if I may even call him one, Bandar Zaim Cham and Amid Essa," he added. "President" Bandar Zaim Cham was the legal claimant to the government of Cyrenaica, which controlled only Derna and the easternmost area of Butnan. Amid Essa, a warlord like Safar (and Cham really), controlled the territory just east of Safar's, areas known as Jabal al Akhdar and Marj. In between these and Cham stood Abdul-Ghafur Daher, the weakest of the warlords, who controlled Quba. Cham, Daher, and Essa had always been on neutral terms with Daher and Cham being closer than Cham and Essa or Daher and Essa were. "It seems that Cham and Essa had a meeting this morning and cut a deal; they're going to move on Safar's lands."

"What about Daher?"

"Daher can be bought and will be bought. He's no ruler, he's a figurehead, a puppet kept in place by Essa's guns and Cham's money. It will take Essa and Cham a few days to get their forces ready for the expedition but you should be aware that armed conflict is about to break out in northern Cyrenaica and that means a potential spread of hostilities. I'm not happy about this by any stretch of the imagination and I'd like your government to convey that to your allies." It was the way he said "allies" that made Koehler understand the true measure of King Yusuf III's irritation. He had to deal with Cyrenaica's transgressions for a long time but never the threat of an explosive civil war and now he did as a result of Apilonia's strikes on Benghazi. They'd been justified but the wider, regional situation hadn't been taken into account, a step back for King Yusuf III who faced a precarious situation.

"What's the next step for your country?"

"We put our military units on the border on high alert in case this spreads into a full-blown civil war."

"What are the implications if it does; if I may ask?"

"You may," King Yusuf III looked to his aide to answer this question though.

"Cham, Daher, and Essa would form a singular bloc against whoever succeeds Safar. Bazzi would probably side with Safar's successor and Al-Shams would remain a wildcard." Mazhar answered, introducing the fourth/fifth warlord, Jamal al Din Muhammad Bazzi who controlled a very wide swath of land south of everyone else's territory (though west of Butnan) and north of Al-Shams controlled Kufra. His territory was known as Ajdabiya and Al Wahat. Bazzi's forces tangoed with the Libyan military frequently at the border but his and the others were warlord militias, heavily armed but undisciplined and lacking in sophistication. They had heavy artillery in the form of mortars, rockets, tubes, and anti-aircraft guns but they didn't have anything more potent than a technical or a truck. Their "navy" was nothing more than fishing boats and skiffs with heavy machine guns and their "air force" was non-existent. They were a ground force, though a sizeable one.

"Does your navy have forces in the Med that can respond?"

"I am sure Your Majesty."

"You may want to see to it that they do. We're going to act to defend ourselves if we have to and while I'd like that to be a joint operation, I must say that if we have to act we will, regardless of whether or not you may assist us."

"I understand and I'll convey the message accordingly."

"Thank you Mister Ambassador. Mazhar will see you out," Koehler stood as did Mazhar. Salutations were exchanged and Mazhar led Koehler out of the palace to his vehicle, which was kept waiting just outside of the building.

"Mister Ambassador," Mazhar said just before Koehler stepped out of the door. "Would you please ensure that your government fully understands the consequences of Apilonia's actions? A civil war in Cyrenaica would cause a massive, regional conflict here. Al-Shams would gain power like they've never had before and your 'quiet war' on them won't be enough."

Koehler shook his head, offered his hand, and stepped out, sliding into the backseat of the car, which sped off moments later after his bodyguard shut the door and returned to the passenger seat.

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December 5, 2014 - 18:35 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Layartebian Embassy
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

It took all of five minutes to get to the embassy, which was barely over a kilometer away. Koehler didn't wait for his bodyguard to open his car door either. The moment it came to a stop, he flew out and moved quickly, much too quickly for a man of his age but he needed to get to his office rapidly and brief his chief of station, who'd been told to be waiting for him. George Garza was and Koehler didn't say anything as he walked through his waiting room and into his office. Garza followed in the ambassador's wake and took a seat as the ambassador plopped down into his own chair. He'd leafed through the folder on the drive over but he hadn't read much due to the short distance. "Those goddamn Apilonians have fucked up everything George!"

"Sir?"

"Here," he handed over the folder. "I just got out of a meeting with King Yusuf III. The warlord in Benghazi…" Koehler searched for the name.

"Musa Safar."

"Yes. He's dead."

"We just heard," Garza answered. When Koehler looked at him funnily George elaborated, "SIGINT intercept. Safar's confirmed dead and now there's a small leadership crisis within his militia. Our money is on his second-in-command."

"Our money?"

"Well the collective belief of the analysts. Safar put his brother-in-law, well one of them. He's got three wives and about fourteen brother-in-law's but he put his favorite one in the position. But he's no leader. My money is on Ratib Suhayl Malouf, one of his generals."

"Is Malouf competent?"

"Regrettably so."

"Well I'm glad we're on top of it but I have something additional in that folder. Something you might not have yet."

"All right, I'll bite."

"Cham and Essa had a meeting this morning and agreed to attack Safar's territories. Cham wants Benghazi and Essa wants the rest of the territory around it. They're going to make a push in a few days and the Libyans are pissed off and rightfully so."

"Could become a civil war."

"That's their worry," Koehler said. "It's all in there. We need that document sent high priority to Layarteb City."

"Did they say where they got this additional info?"

"No and the file looks scrubbed."

"I bet it is. It probably came from a source inside of Cham's government. They wouldn't want to reveal that information. I need to know though if I'm to attach merit to it."

"We've got contacts with their intelligence department don't we?"

"Yes."

"Time to use them to validate this."

"All right but you know what this means right?"

"It means we could be fighting a big war right next door and we don't want it." Garza just nodded.

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December 7, 2014 - 09:40 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Lima Station
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

Vice Admiral Daniel Williams looked out from the bridge of the ILS Hnoss (LHA-33), a Frigg-class amphibious assault carrier that was the centerpiece of the 7th Amphibious Ready Group, which had been dispatched from Souda Bay Naval Base only a few hours earlier. The entire task force had gone flank speed to what was dubbed as Lima Station, a patrol box approximately one hundred nautical miles off of the coastline of Benghazi. It had taken them a little over twelve hours to travel the full 340 nautical miles to the station and there they met the ILS Mediterranean, a Washington-class aircraft carrier with the 4th Escort Group, the only other Layartebian battlegroup operating in the Mediterranean Sea, which formed the 7th Carrier Strike Group. Together, the two groups amassed twenty-four naval vessels, nearly eleven thousand sailors, two hundred and ten aircraft, and fifty-three hundred Marines.

Vice Admiral Williams was in charge of it all, despite not commanding the carrier group. Normally the carrier admirals got the command billet for operations but he was a vice admiral and Randall Samuels, the commanding officer of the 7th Carrier Strike Group was only a senior admiral (SADM) meaning he had one more star. It wasn't often that CVSGs were mated with ARGs but the circumstances didn't permit a full CVBG so the navy had to work with what they had. News of the arrival of both groups had made King Yusuf III happy but for VADM Williams, the deployment wasn't something to get elated about. His orders didn't say anything about getting involved in a civil war in Cyrenaica nor did they say anything about assisting Libyan forces in combat. They were merely parked there, orbiting their patrol sector for the purpose of power projection. King Yusuf III of course didn't know this.

"Sir," came the voice of a subordinate and VADM Williams turned to look at the baby face of a young seaman first class who'd been sent to deliver him the message. "Senior Admiral Samuels is arriving on that helicopter sir."

"Thank you Seaman, tell the deck officer I'll be down in a minute."

"Aye aye, sir." The seamen first class turned on his heels and was gone. VADM Williams took one last look at the faraway horizon and fell back inside of the island, walking down the steps to the flight deck where an MH-60S Knight Hawk from HCM-308 was just touching down on the ship's flight deck. The rotors immediately began to wind down and one of the sailors on the flight deck walked up to and opened the helicopter's starboard side door. SADM Samuels stepped out with a briefcase and strode over to his superior. No salutes were exchanged though they did shake hands and then retreated inside of the island where VADM Williams led the man to his personal quarters, which were roomy and spacious enough for the two men to sit and discuss matters comfortably.

There, the two men reviewed their separate orders, found no contradiction in them - a mild surprise - and then got to discussing the plan. "Lima Station's about one hundred nautical miles from the coastline. We don't have any real threats out here. Intel passed on that their 'navy' is nothing more than skiffs and fishing boats that they've strapped .50-cal guns to so we'll watch out for those. Air threats are nil," SADM Samuels said in response to this discussion point.

"We've only got one escort group to share between us and that's fine for me. I'm not looking to get in close to deploy Marines anyhow. We'll use the 4th Escort Group to form a picket between us and the Cyrenaican coastline. Nothing they have is going to get through them. Do you have your Scarecrow up?"

"Yes, we're running fully battlefield surveillance. We don't want any surprises here. Intel say anything about Scud missiles?"

"Nothing and if they did have any I think we'd be fine. We're a moving target and the Scud can't hit a specific building in a stationary city on a good day. If we get a ballistic launch I doubt it's even worth it to shoot it down."

"I assume this is as close to the coastline as we're going to get."

"Seems like it. We're just far away enough that we're safely over the horizon and just close enough that we can launch air sorties. It seems like the Ministry of Defense wants us in a prime position."

"Did they tell you anything about the SEALS?"

"SEALS?"

"About halfway here we took on a COD with full combat troop, forty guys. They were crammed in there like sardines."

"Nope, nothing, it's probably just regular planning. Which one has jurisdiction over North Africa? Is it Six or Seven?"

"Six, out of Little Creek."

"That must have been one very long and shitty ride for them."

"They were all complaining about sore asses when they walked off the flight deck," at this SADM Samuels smiled. He'd ridden on COD aircraft plenty of times but never in the manner accustomed to by the SEALS who crammed their gear and people everywhere they could regardless of comfort. "They've got two platoons and thirty-two shooters on my carrier and JSOC gives them the go ahead you know what that'll mean."

"I do," VADM Williams said shaking his head. He wanted a cigarette but he promised his wife that he'd quit before the next voyage, though he didn't expect to get one for another six months. The premature rush to quitting had left him a little extra irritable and impatient. "I think I'll want another escort group before we get that close. There's only nine ships with the 4th Escort Group and to me that's barely enough, even against this kind of threat, or lack thereof; because these kinds of situations are when the pencil pushers shortchange us and something big happens."

"What's the biggest worry?"

"A skiff filled with explosives ramming into us." The thought was sobering for SADM Samuels.

"I'll make sure the escorts are watching every inch of the horizon."

"You do that for now we'll hang back. I've got fifty-three hundred Marines aboard my ships, one whole brigade and if we need the rest of the damned division is sitting on Crete bitching and moaning that they didn't get to deploy." They continued discussion the game plan for another hour before the subject of how this intel got to the military came up and in this case neither man had any clue. All they knew was that they had to get here on the double because the shit was about to hit the fan in Cyrenaica.

---

• • •

[Terra Reborn]

Captain Hamish Steele CS IN
HMS Prince of Australia (B09)
International Waters off Cyrenaica, The Mediterranean Sea
Sunday 7th December 2014, 1000hrs Local Time (0000hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0400hrs Zulu Time)

Three days after their highly successful strike on enemy targets in and around Benghazi the ships of Force Z remained in position off the coast of Cyrenaica, in international waters and at a safe distance, but close enough to be both a potent reminder to the warlords of the military strength they were contending with and to provide the Admiralty with a wide array of potential options if further strikes were ordered. Consisting of the powerful guided missile battleship, Prince of Australia, the Battlecruiser Furious, and four Type-45E Destroyers, the task force had originally been deployed on a flag-flying operation around the African Continent, before their strike mission to Benghazi had attracted their attention. After the strike had been completed and the battle damage assessment (BDA) confirmed a successful strike, the force had been ordered to remain in position for a period of one week before returning to Gibraltar to rearm the hundred missiles that had been launched as part of the Benghazi strike, before continuing their original mission once the rearmament operation was completed, no later than the new year depending on how long it took and how long the Admiralty decided it would be advantageous for Force Z to remain in the Mediterranean.

As far as the Imperial Admiralty, and the Empire of Apilonia as a whole, the strike had been highly successful. The primary target of the strike, one of the high-level targets who had been a part of the the cabal of conspirators that had been implicit in the assassination of King Walker (known as a ‘Sigma Nine’ target) had been killed. The military capabilities of the warlord that had been sheltering him had likewise been shattered and the message that such a gratuitous destruction represented had been sent. Any one of the several groups that were sheltering one of King Walker’s regicides would think twice before continuing to do so, or to do so in the first place if they were asked, and more important the strike would have put the fear of god into the conspirators themselves. The Imperial Navy, and the Empire at large, had made it quite clear that it would stop at nothing to kill or capture those that had betrayed the Empire in such a callous and selfish way. As far as the Empire was concerned there was no where that the conspirators could hide.

Perhaps more to the point such a conspicuous and, one could argue, gratuitous strike, as opposed to a single surgical strike, had another, specific intention as well. There was some concern in the upper circles of the Imperial Government that feared that some of the Empire’s enemies would see the death of King Walker, and the ascension to the throne of the young and relatively inexperienced Arthur as a sign that the Empire was going to be weaker and more vulnerable. Such a significant strike was designed with the expressed intention of demonstrating to the world, whether friends or enemies, that the Empire still had every intention of using its not insignificant military strength to protect its interests and project its power; weakness invited attack after all, and that was simply unacceptable.

Unfortunately it seemed that not everyone agreed with the Empire’s actions in this matter.

A short time ago a major surface group had been detected on long-range surface search radar, which had naturally resulted in a degree of surprise aboard Prince of Australia and her consorts. A fire scout UAV had promptly been launched to go and investigate just who the ships belonged to and it wasn’t long before it was confirmed to be a Layartebian amphibious group. The fact that it had rendezvoused with another Layartebian group, this time a Carrier Group, had raised even more eyebrows in the command staff of Force Z, given that it constituted the bulk of Layartebian naval strength in the theatre. Out of the three October Alliance powers the Apilonian Imperial Navy had the largest presence in the Mediterranean by a small margin; a margin which was set to massively increase over the next twelve months, given that the Empire of Apilonia not only had several colonies in the region but also a significant amount of trade passing through the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean Sea. A quick check with the Commander-in-Chief, Imperial Mediterranean Fleet, Admiral The Viscountess Stanford at Gibraltar, confirmed that the Layartebians had given no indication to them of any particular reason or intend for them to gather the bulk of their forces in the area.

It stood to reason that they were here for Libya, and that likely meant that they were here in response to the Benghazi Strike.

A quick discussion with the Imperial Admiralty had confirmed that, by all accounts the Empire of Layarteb, or a least some parts of it, weren’t too pleased about the Imperial strike and had made that clear their displeasure. No doubt they had had some scheme in place, or some operation, that the Benghazi Strike had thrown off the rails, and were less than pleased that the Imperials had taken such unilateral action. There had been nothing through official channels, and Captain Hamish Steele (the Commanding Officer of Prince of Australia) doubted there ever would be, as the Imperial Foreign Office, or if need be King Arthur himself, would none too kindly tell their allies where to shove their displeasure over something like this. Covert operations and cloak and dagger games were all well and good, and an important part of the global structure, but right now they had to come second to something of this importance. As far as the Empire was concerned, very few things would come before the killing or capture of those who had betrayed the Empire; if nothing else an example had to be made to dissuade others.

With that in mind Captain Steele couldn’t help but wonder if the arrival of the Layartebian Battlegroups would encourage the Imperial Admiralty to keep the Prince of Australia and the rest of her task force on-station for more than the original week that they had been ordered to remain. If there was something going on in Libya then it could potentially pose a threat to Imperial interests in the region and that was simply unacceptable; it was just one more thing that the Admiralty would no doubt use to justify the significant increase of naval forces that they were planning to put into place over the coming months, which included amongst other things a second carrier group, which would be centred around a hundred thousand tonne super carrier rather than the seventy thousand tonne fleet carrier that was currently assigned, specifically HMS Reprisal, based out of Gibraltar. If there was one part of the world, except perhaps West Africa, that concerned the Empire the most in terms of developing threats it was the Mediterranean Sea specifically and the European theatre in general; the increasing instability and developing threats were of a significant amount of concern for all concerned.

In short, for the moment at least it was highly likely that Force Z would be remaining on-station for at least the next week, if not longer, making a point more than anything else, but being ready for any directives at the discretion of the Commander-in-Chief, Imperial Mediterranean Fleet, Admiral The Viscountess Stanford, and the Imperial Admiralty as a whole. And by and large they were doing it with some flare; flying massive battle ensigns from their halyards in a potent, and deliberate, show of force; which explained why once a day the entire Force went within visual range of the coast and literally flew the flag before returning to their patrol box a little further out. Whether their allies liked it or not, Force Z of the Imperial Navy had a job to do, and nothing was going to stop them doing just that.

[Layarteb]

December 7, 2014 - 18:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Royal Palace of Tripoli
(32° 53' 16" N, 13° 11' 21" E)

King Yusuf III looked on at the Minister of Information, Qusay Asghar, revealed the dreaded bad news that he'd come to give. "Malouf, are you sure Qusay?" The King asked just to be certain.

"Yes Your Majesty that is who has ascended to take Safar's 'throne' so to speak."

"Have you passed on the information to the Layartebians?"

"Not yet Your Majesty I wanted to inform you first."

"Pass it on; they're going to need to know."

"What's our intention with them Your Majesty?" Qusay asked ponderously. Mazhar, seated in the back of the room, said nothing to this effect but he'd asked the same question after Ambassador Koehler had departed the Palace grounds. "The Layartebians won't get involved in Cyrenaica and we sure as much aren't so what is the end game?"

"The Layartebians are fighting a quiet war with Al-Shams. We're involved of course but we're only involved on the surface. You've uncovered this as much Qusay, yes?"

"Bassam has yes," he said, referring to Bassam Mansour, who was in charge of "external security" meaning the world outside of the Kingdom of Libya. "He's said as much to me as well, that the Layartebians are playing a game deeper than they allow us to see."

"I want a deeper involvement. We already know that the Layartebians plan to launch raids out of Al Jufra against Al-Shams though it's a stretch with the range required. We already know just what capabilities they've kept 'on station' in the Mediterranean to deal with Al-Shams' pop up threats but I want us to have a much deeper role. I want the Layartebians to view us as partners against Al-Shams not as commoners."

"I understand Your Majesty but the Layartebians seem to only cooperate with nations on specific instances. We know that the Amigardians receive some of the highest levels of cooperation with Al-Shams and even that is barely more than we have. The Layartebians fight Al-Shams alone, with cooperative agreements, rather than as a member of a global coalition."

"And I want us to form a global coalition of sorts against Al-Shams. The British and the Amigardians would be cooperative I am sure. We can levy perhaps other nations, the Empire's own allies, into positions of support just the same. Al-Shams is not an isolated threat despite their locality in Cyrenaica and the favorable conditions that they have there. Soon enough they're going to branch out again and the Empire is going to deal with it as they have in the past rather than on a new approach."

"Your Majesty is there something additional that perhaps we don't know?"

"Just a feeling Qusay and not one that your offices has proven to be valid."

"What feeling is that if I may ask?"

"That Al-Shams is going to look to destabilize our country next…" The implications of King Yusuf III's premonition hung uneasily in the air and Mazhar now understood why he'd been rebuffed when he'd asked the same question. King Yusuf III didn't want to appear paranoid to his aide, at least not his aide alone. However, Qusay was the Minister of Information and in that position he was the head of an office that built its legacy on paranoia. It made sense in this atmosphere that he would share these feelings now rather than alone to Mazhar. Mazhar worried the same though and he was a little disappointed that his boss didn't trust him with the feelings alone but King Yusuf III was - he had to admit - a wise ruler and a wise ruler sometimes made decisions that didn't make the most amount of sense to those closest to them. Mazhar understood that this was one of those situations.

"How do we react Your Majesty if that should happen?"

"We react like we've never reacted before. We drive all the way through Kufra until we've lit every village and settlement aflame. There will be only one response to Al-Shams turning their eyes towards us and that will be complete and utter destruction."

"Would not the Layartebians react the same if Al-Shams targeted their homeland?"

"No," King Yusuf III answered, shaking his head for emphasis. "They would be much worse…"

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December 9, 2014 - 16:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

"Sir," Robert Crawford said as he passed through the entranceway into the Emperor's office. With him were Minister Flores of Intelligence and Minister Fisher of Foreign Affairs. The Emperor, on the phone, motioned for them to be seated and to shut the doors behind them, which they did. He finished his conversation with King Arthur and hung up the phone, standing before he spoke.

"I've just spoken to King Arthur and informed him that our naval presence off of Cyrenaica is due to actionable intelligence indicating a potential outbreak of hostilities in Cyrenaica with the death of the warlord Safar."

"Sir those hostilities just broke out an hour ago, that's why we're here." Crawford answered.

"I didn't indicate our displeasure with their unilateral strike against Benghazi Robert; I know you had wanted me to convey it but I could not. We would have acted in the same manner ourselves but I think they've gotten the hint that we're there in case we have to clean up a mess they've left. Now what's the situation on the ground?"

"As we've been told sir Cham and Essa have made a drive on Malouf's forces. Cham's government troops are advancing along the coastal highway and Essa's are moving inland from Al-Militaniya. Essa's troops will be arriving at Al-Abyar first sir and Cham's forces are facing initial resistance just west of Tocra, their starting point. Essa has some resistance on the way to Al-Abyar but not a lot sir."

"All right let's see a map," the Emperor came to the table now as Robert unfolded a map of the area. On the flipside was Libya and Cyrenaica together with their neighbors but this side had much more detail and it focused mainly on Cyrenaica's northern half. "These two roads are essential," the Emperor pointed out as he looked at the map. "It's sensible that they would attack this way. Essa will move ultimately to Ar Rajmah here and then assault the airport and into Benghazi. He'll have to have forces cross and move south to Suluq and then west to Qaminis to cut off Malouf's retreat. Cham's entirely vulnerable and coming from the north. What's the strength of both armies?"

"Sir we're ascertaining that now, we've got aerial photography working on it. We know that Cham and Essa both committed virtually all of their forces to the battle and that Malouf's forces are mostly located around Benghazi."

"All right then before sunup Cham will be past Tocra, correct?" Heads nodded in agreement, "And Essa will be sieging Al-Abyar." Again heads nodded in agreement. "What are our Libyan partners doing at present?"

"They've gone to full strength on their borders and mobilized half of their reserves. Their air force is running combat air patrols around the border and in the Gulf of Sidra and we have indications that they are fully prepared to launch a massive bombing strike against Benghazi. There's no real air threat from Cyrenaica so the patrols are more just as morale boosters for the people and the troops. We believe that the aircraft are mostly loaded for air-to-ground missions rather than air-to-air sorties though we assume at least a squadron or two will be running full air-to-air missions versus the multirole kind," Minister Flores said, speaking for the first time. Libya's air force had two main kinds of fighters. The bulk of their force was the F-16E/F Falcon Block 60, of which they had one hundred and five. They had sixty-two Mirage 2000-5s that they were replacing with F-58 Vipers but the Vipers weren't yet delivered. The first squadron wouldn't be operationally ready until February and the second in June. They were due to receive F-54 Adders and T-54 Adders for light attack and training but those were still a few months away from delivery.

"Well if I've done my homework right, the majority of their Mirages have the air-to-air mission while the Falcons run air-to-ground sorties."

"Yes sir that's mostly what we believe but they have plenty of air-to-ground ordinance for their Mirages. They plan to integrate most of it into the Vipers to save on the economics of the matter," Crawford answered. "They can launch some heavy strikes against Benghazi, it's a bit of a flight but they can do it. There's little that can oppose their aircraft."

"Let's see if we can keep them throttled down at the least. Their military's going to be highly jumpy in this situation and they might fear a civil war spilling into their border but for now it isn't even close."

"Yes sir I'll work with Ambassador Koehler to convey a specific message to King Yusuf III," Minister Fisher responded.

"How far is it from Al Jufra to Benghazi?"

"About three hundred miles sir," Crawford answered after measuring the distance with a ruler on the flipside of the map. He traced a line and wrote in the measurement.

"What do we have there right now?"

"19th Bomb Wing, 41st Fighter Wing, and the 47th Fighter Wing sir," Crawford answered, "Badgers, Tridents, Enforcers, and Vipers. It's well within range sir."

"All right let's ensure that the air force is prepped and ready to assist the Libyans if we have to do so. The navy is off of the coast and they can help as well but we have a lot more firepower at Al Jufra than we do on the carrier group in the Med, correct?" Crawford nodded his head, "Then let's make sure we're ready to support them if we need to; I'd prefer it if we didn't though Timothy."

"Yes sir I'll push that agenda."

"We have nothing to gain and little to lose in letting Cham, Essa, and Malouf go head-to-head in Cyrenaica. The implications to Al-Shams could bring them closer in alliance to Malouf but right now I'm not going to stretch my imagination."

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 12, 2014 - 07:35 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Lima Station
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

Lieutenant Junior Grade Chris "Raptor" Morris looked off to his right as the yellow shirted signaled for him to advance forward. The noise of the twin afterburning, turbofan engines wasn't deafening inside of the aircraft but it drowned out all but his thoughts. With a slight bump he came to a stop as he stepped on the aircraft's wheel brakes. Underneath his aircraft, the other yellow shirts hooked up his aircraft and he spoke into the intercom, "We all good back there 'Joker'?"

"Aye aye Raptor," Ensign Charlie "Joker" Taylor answered from the RIO's seat just aft of the pilot. The aircraft's radar wasn't on so there was little for Taylor to do but sit comfortably for the ride, which was about to happen in the next sixty seconds. On the catapult next to them another Wraith was being hooked up to the catapult and in the rearview mirrors, Morris could see the jet blast deflectors raise into place.

He gave a wiggle of all of the controls next, received a thumb's up from each side of the aircraft, and then received the signal to go to full power. It was a ballet that he'd done hundreds of times before and so Morris advanced the throttles up to 85% and then to military power and then to full afterburner. The whine of the turbofans became a roar so loud that even his thoughts had to silence themselves for the awesome power of the Wraith. A last thumb's up came; Morris saluted, put his head back, and positioned his hands. Seconds later, the aircraft lurched forward, rapidly accelerating to over 170 knots in just a hair under one hundred meters. After the aircraft the thrown off of the deck, the +2.5G subsided and Morris went through the takeoff procedure, raising the landing gear, reducing power to military, and climbing out and away from the carrier. As he turned away, his wingman was launched and both fighters formed up a few minutes later as they climbed to their patrol altitude of 36,000 feet.

On the outside of the carrier's island, in the graying light of sunrise, SADM Samuels threw his cigarette into one of the butt containers and retreated back into the tower. He was in the CIC now and he walked over to the main operations area where a digital map showed the entire area of operation along with friendly, hostile, and civilian (aka neutral) contacts. Force Z was still in the AO but far enough away that it wasn't a hindrance. The carrier had six Wraiths airborne now and a single Scarecrow AEW to create the long range view that SADM Samuels had in front of him. "How long until the relief is on station?" He asked a sailor near the map with a clipboard in his hand.

"Ten minutes max sir."

"Where's CAG?"

"He was in the ready room briefing some of the pilots for this morning's mission sir. He ought to be back in thirty minutes."

"All right I'll be in my stateroom, put in a call to me when he's here."

"Aye aye sir," the sailor said as he returned his eyes to the map. CAG stood for Commander, Air Group and the CAG for Carrier Air Wing 27 (CAW-27) was Captain Dave Fagan who had only been in the post for the past six months, having just left command of a fighter squadron aboard a Pacific Fleet carrier. Captain Fagan was one of the navy's best fighter pilots and that was partly because he'd been flying fighters since 1994 when he received his "Wings of Gold" designating him as a naval aviator. For the vast majority of his career, his first sixteen years, he flew the F-14 Tomcat and all of its variations, scoring three kills in the Tomcat. Then he transitioned into the navy's new hotrod, the F-57B Wraith. Unfortunately - and fortunately - for him that meant transitioning from his beloved Atlantic Fleet squadrons to a Pacific Fleet squadron. This got him into combat in the Sino-Layartebian War of 2012 where he scored another three kills, giving him status as an ace, one of the few naval aviators to hold such a coveted status.

Now as CAG he transitioned again but this time to the Med and by choice. He saw the Med as a choice location. There could be sorties against Al-Shams, the Apilonians were flexing their muscles around and coming against the Anglo-Dutch, the Romans were making waves in the Aegean, and of course, the Soviets were still the Soviets though they rarely sought out confrontation or provocation. There were plenty of other state actors to do it for them and with this, his first cruise out of the box, he had action. Soft spoken, when he wanted to be heard, Fagan found he hadn't lost any camaraderie with the pilots now that he was CAG. Whenever they made port calls he was with them, drinking hard and playing harder, evading shore patrol like they were enemy SAM sites and AEW aircraft.

When he finally found his way into the CIC half an hour later he was met by SADM Samuels who pulled him over to the map display. The two Wraiths that were to be relieved had been and were already on deck by then. "I have an update on the ground situation."

"That works for me sir, I've been trying to get some info out of the N-2 but he doesn't want to give me anything," the CAG answered.

"Essa's forces are pretty much still where they were three days ago. They're stuck trying to break into Al-Abyar and it isn't looking good. Essa's forces and Malouf's are evenly matched from when the intel says and Essa isn't some cunning military genius. Cham, on the other hand, has already advanced thirty-three klicks along the coastline. Intel says his forces are marginally better in both training and discipline. Daryanah are where they are right now. Intel thinks that Daryanah will be a road bump for Cham and nothing more."

"Why is that?"

"Malouf's men largely pulled back from Daryanah and pulled back to Kuwayfiyah. Malouf's plan seems to be to stretch Cham's supply lines as much as possible. Once they're through Daryanah then Kuwayfiyah is next. It's about twenty-four clicks down the road and it brings them to the outskirts of Benghazi. With Essa's troops stalled though that presents a major problem for Cham. For starters, Malouf's men have intact supply lines and escape routes to the south. The airport is under Malouf's control and at best, Cham can take it and assault Benghazi from two directions instead of encircling the city and sieging it as originally planned."

"Intel just doesn't see Essa breaking out of Al-Abyar?"

"Not at all," SADM Samuels shook his head for emphasis. "It looks like Essa's going to go no further. His men are just not well trained or well-equipped enough to get through the defenses at Al-Abyar. We'll have to see if that means Cham is going to stop his conquest of Benghazi and rest his lines on the perimeter of the city. It remains to be seen."

"Any rumblings about Al-Shams?"

"Nothing yet and intel is watching that along with the likelihood of a Malouf-Bazzi alliance. So far Bazzi's men haven't done much except sit and hold their positions. Daher's men aren't doing anything either."

"So what's the role of the air wing?"

"For now nothing changes. We're still sitting this one out, keeping ourselves ready and maintaining patrols. Are you going up this morning?"

"I was thinking about taking a patrol flight. It's quiet and I need some trap practice. I've got to make my quals next month."

"All right then this is all we have. Anything changes I'll let you know."

"Aye aye sir," the CAG said before turning and heading off to another part of the CIC to check on a few things before he departed.

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December 13, 2014 - 08:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Royal Palace of Tripoli
(32° 53' 16" N, 13° 11' 21" E)

"Your Majesty, it appears that our reports that Malouf's men fled Daryanah were right. The Layartebians passed on a piece of signals intelligence that outlined the Battle of Daryanah," Mazhar said as he sat down in the King's office.

"I haven't seen the report yet. What does it say?"

"Your Majesty, it lasted all of fifteen minutes. Malouf left approximately twenty men behind only to stall Cham's forces. They were routed to the last man with no losses for Cham's own men. They're driving towards Kuwayfiyah now."

"No word yet on Essa's drive?"

"He's stalemated Your Majesty. They've made probing attacks on the city but they're not breaking through the city's outer defenses. Malouf's men are dug in quite well. There is something else though. Something that Bassam wanted me to bring to your attention this morning."

"Bassam? And not Qusay?"

"Qusay is aware of it but he wants to discuss it this afternoon. Bassam was less patient so I agreed to oblige his request Your Majesty."

"All right now I'm interested."

"It concerns Al-Shams," King Yusuf's eyes widened. "It seems that one of Bassam's men within Al-Shams has reported that a small contingent of fighters, fewer than twenty, have begun to make their way to Benghazi. They've already made contact with Malouf and they asked to provide him with some 'support' so to speak."

"Al-Shams allying with Malouf," King Yusuf III said, "not a good sign."

"No Your Majesty it isn't. The Layartebians are unaware of this as far as Bassam can tell. Qusay wants to withhold the information for now and use it as leverage based on what you told him last Sunday. He believes that this kind of information might garner a deeper Layartebian interest in the conflict."

"Do we have any other details? Is Bassam's man with this group?"

"We don't have anything further and no he isn't." Mazhar answered, somewhat disappointed he couldn't give his boss more. "Malouf was never shy about Al-Shams; he always believed - from the start - that Safar should ally more closely with them. It appears he'll finally get his way. Al-Shams on the battlefield helping Malouf's men would be a major driving force. They are much better trained than any of Malouf's, Cham's, or Essa's men and we already know what their zeal on the battlefield means to them. Essa would likely lose his foothold and Cham could be driven back to the border, if not routed entirely."

"Twenty won't make a big difference on the battlefield but what if twenty became two hundred."

"There's over a thousand men total in Cyrenaica that are within Al-Shams' official ranks Your Majesty. Two hundred would be enough to rout Cham and Essa. It would be ideal if their convoy were destroyed en route to Benghazi. As much as this conflict has no good end for us it would have an even worse end if Al-Shams were to advance and grip their teeth in Malouf's army."

"Your right and so is Qusay. We will need to leverage this with the Layartebians and see if we can use it to get in deeper with them. Is Krim in on this?"

"Bassam didn't say."

"Find out and see what the two of them can come up with and have Qusay bring it with him this afternoon. I assume we have some time?"

"A few days yes."

"Then we'll use the time," King Yusuf replied and Mazhar left, having his marching orders now in hand.

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December 15, 2014 - 18:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

The Emperor put down his fork and wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin before bidding Minister Flores to continue. She'd come for a dinner meeting and the Emperor had made sure that her favorite meal, which was lasagna, had been served. "Sir the situation on the ground in Cyrenaica is progressing slowly. Cham's forces have overrun and secured Kuwayfiyah and that puts them just eight klicks from Malouf's outer perimeter at Benghazi. He has a sizeable contingent of men protecting his capital."

"What about Essa? Have his forces advanced beyond Al-Abyar yet?"

"No sir and it's unlikely they will. Our analysts have been over the battle so far and based on what we've gleamed from signals and imagery it's unlikely that Essa is going to get anywhere past Al-Abyar. He's stalemated there and that's the best he'll get, only twelve klicks into Malouf's territory."

"Well that's a shame for him. How about the other actors in this play?"

"Bazzi and Daher remain 'neutral' so to speak. Daher is of course letting Cham's supplies and men come through to Essa's territory on their way to Malouf's but that's it. None of his men have left the line with Bazzi's territory. Bazzi for his part remains where he is. None of his men have crossed into Malouf's territory and they haven't made any provocative moves along the border with Libya, which King Yusuf was greatly concerned about when all of this began sir."

"So what's next on this? What do we know?"

"Cham's main battle plan involved Essa's men securing the south to prevent Malouf from escaping. It also involved Essa securing the airport and providing a second front for attack. That's not going to happen so Cham has to redefine his plan. We haven't seen yet but signals shows that he's not going to drive on Benghazi yet sir."

"Is he consolidating?"

"It would seem so sir but there's no telling for how long. Cham's forces are right now within range of Malouf's howitzers and when his forces approach the perimeter positions they'll be dealing with mortars. They have their own along with Grad rockets, well I should say that Malouf has Grad rockets too. This constitutes the heaviest of his artillery."

"Coordinated air support would basically hand Cham Benghazi, correct?"

"It could be worked out sir. Is this a thought?"

"No," the Emperor said as he picked up his glass of wine and took a sip. "If Cham takes Benghazi I want him to be weakened so that another stalemate falls in around Cyrenaica. The only thing that keeps peace there is stalemate, the fact that forces are weak but they are weak together. Cham and Essa have exploited a vacuum but as Essa is finding out, his forces aren't strong enough to make the push. Cham has benefited from a rout early on in Daryanah that gave his men the edge. Malouf pulled his forces back from Kuwayfiyah to hand him the city and stretch his lines. Malouf's thinking well here. Cham's going to go up against a heavily fortified position here with Benghazi and without Essa's help he's in for a real hard journey. What were the casualties from Daryanah?"

"Over three hundred dead and fifteen hundred or so captured sir. Cham has managed to turn a large portion of Malouf's main army back against him. Estimates are that he boosted his ranks another thousand men after Daryanah. He lost about fifty men."

"That's a crippling defeat for Malouf. I presume his top commander there was killed?"

"Yes he was sir."

"What's the word on Al-Shams?"

"All quiet on the southern front sir."

"It won't be for long. Al-Shams might want to exploit this situation."

"Yes sir they might. We are focusing on working with the Libyans on that regard. The LESB has a few men inside of Al-Shams' main body in Kufra and they've passed on considerable intelligence so far."

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 18, 2014 - 05:35 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Ministry of Information
(32° 50' 7" N, 13° 23' 12" E)

It was two hours before sunrise and Bassam Mansour was hovering over the main satphone terminal in the Libyan External Security Bureau's communications area like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. Cigarette and pipe smoke clouded the air near the ceiling and for the men - and women - inside of the communications area there was nothing but eerie silence. Bassam, who'd taken to habitually checking his watch, saw that it was 05:35 and his contact was now fifteen minutes later on a check-in, which meant bad news. "A lot could have happened sir. It doesn't necessarily mean that he's been caught," a young and beautiful communications specialist with jet black hair said from where she was sitting at the terminal.

"It could mean a lot of things," Bassam answered. "What it means is that our best placed source in Cham's army is off the air and that means a valuable source of intel is out of the…" Just then the terminal showed an incoming call and Bassam halted his speech. His entire mood perked up as he lifted the phone's handset to his face. "Go Camel," he said after the check-in procedure was completed. The young woman handled it while he just listened.

"The assault on Benghazi is scheduled for dawn. The main army will thrust along the coastline but a secondary detachment will maneuver south to the airport. This will be the last communication for a while, there are people suspicious here. Do you have instructions for me?"

"Stay safe Camel. Is there any information on Al-Shams?"

"None."

"Okay cut it," Bassam hung up the phone and begrudged himself a smile. "He was whispering more than usual."

"There was some background noise that we can isolate."

"Do it and let me know what you have when you have it. I have to prepare my report for Qusay," Bassam left the secure vault and walked up to his office to compose his report to Qusay, which would ultimately wind up on King Yusuf's desk. Force positions were already known and in the operations room, icons were being updated to show the information that Bassam's source had only just passed onto them. If the main thrust kept to the coastline that meant Cham hadn't altered that part of his plan. However, detaching a unit to secure the airport meant that even he had lost hope that Essa would join him and why not, Essa hadn't yet moved from his position at Al-Abyar. Fighting there had died down some since it was a stalemate after all.

Having just spent the past three days bringing up reinforcements and supplies, Cham's forces had weathered some grueling artillery salvos in the days since but they were well dug-in by now, having occupied the positions originally intended by Malouf's men to utilize against Cham's encroaching army. Malouf's army possessed three kinds of long-range artillery. The most common weapon was the 122-millimeter 2A18 howitzer or D-30 as it was known. It had a range of approximately fifteen kilometers though Cham's men weren't the sort that could accurately hit much, even with a spotter. He also had a few dozen 130-millimeter M1954 field guns or KS-30s as they were known. They had an even longer range of twenty-seven kilometers. Finally, he had a few dozen BM-21 Grad units, which fired 122-millimeter rockets as far away as twenty kilometers. However, his men largely fired in a harassing role, rather than in a focused role. For the three days that Cham and his men held at Kuwayfiyah, Malouf periodically ordered his guns to shell the city and they did, firing salvos for fifteen to twenty minutes, dropping shells randomly around the town without much effect. Cham's men suffered casualties but by and large they retreated into prepared fighting positons and waiting out the salvos.

All of this had been observed from Libyan and Layartebian intelligence sources and the latter had taken to flying reconnaissance sorties near the coastline, keeping out of range of man-portable, surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft artillery. One such sortie was scheduled for dawn and it would capture the eight kilometer advance by Cham's forces towards Benghazi's outer perimeter line.

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December 18, 2014 - 07:20 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Lima Station
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

On the tasking order for this morning's recce flight were two pilots who did nothing but groan about recce flights. The pilot was Lieutenant Jason "Grumpy" Brown and his WSO was Lieutenant Ray "Smoke" Franco and they were pilots in the VFA-306 squadron, flying the F-58D Viper. Neither of them had seen actual action before and they craved something other than recce runs and air cap sorties, which they continually drew. This morning, as they were thrown over the bow of the carrier, they could think only about getting back on deck and enjoying lunch, which promised to be something tasty for it wasn't a "mystery meat" day.

Their aircraft was loaded lightly, carrying only a pair of AIM-204A Escape air-to-air missiles on their outermost pylons and a pair of AIM-120D AMRAAM missiles on their fuselage pylons. They had no air-to-ground ordinance and they carried three fuel tanks, all of them 300 gallons a piece and on the rarely used chin pylon they were carrying the 595-lb reconnaissance pod, which had both EO and IR capabilities. Their mission this morning would take them from Lima Station ninety-six nautical miles to the coastline of Cyrenaica, just south of Benghazi where they would turn north and skirt the coastline at a distance of two nautical miles and an altitude of twelve thousand feet. Their run would take them all the way to Tocra, at which point they would turn around and fly back. It would be fifty nautical miles of flying per run and they would keep to twelve thousand feet to avoid anti-aircraft artillery and surface-to-air missiles.

Malouf's forces didn't have much in the way of anti-aircraft artillery, chiefly because they didn't need it. What they had mostly consisted of a couple of ZSU-23-4 Shilkas, a fair number of ZU-23-2s, and a large number of ZPU-2s. The Shilkas were the deadliest since they had a radar system that could allow accurate targeting and engagement yet they were only effective up to an altitude of ten thousand feet. The ZU-23s and ZPU-2s were largely ineffective above five thousand to six thousand feet. Malouf's only missiles consisted of a handful of 9K310 Igla-1 or SA-16 Gimlet missiles. They were effective up to around eleven thousand feet and they had a range of three miles. By flying two nautical miles from the coastline and at twelve thousand feet, the Viper could largely negate the weapons that Malouf's men had. Cham's men had much of the same equipment so it stood to reason that both of them were neutralized by the aircraft's altitude and range. Though, rumor had it that Malouf had bought some of the newer SA-24 Grinch or Igla-S missiles.

LT Brown and LT Franco said little on the trip down to waypoint four, which was the initial turn. Waypoint five would commence the run and end at waypoint nine, which would then double back to waypoint twelve, ending the run completely. From that point onward it was a flight home. The round trip for the flight was around three hundred nautical miles, well within the aircraft's range without the external tanks and their nine hundred gallons of extra fuel, which they burned on the trip to the coastline, gradually dumping the three tanks along the way, first the wing tanks and then the centerline tank.

LT Brown commenced his run right on time, which was 07:45, ten minutes after sunrise. The pod was running in both modes as they zoomed along the coastline at five hundred miles per hour. There was little talk between them as LT Brown flew through his waypoints and LT Franco operated the pod. The run itself would only consume around fifty-five hundred pounds of fuel leaving them around seven thousand pounds to get home, of which they only would need about fifty-eight hundred pounds. It would be a comfortable margin for them to have for their approach to the carrier.

The run started out normally. They flew along the coastline, capturing images of Benghazi and of Cham's initial thrust against the city's outer perimeter. They flew along past the cities and territory held by Cham and his men and then LT Brown turned around and headed back. He checked his fuel and saw that everything was in order and the run was going smoothly and virtually by the book. Reviewing the footage, LT Franco could see that a battle was underway and he passed this onto his pilot. This may the second run a little more exciting.

Nearing waypoint twelve, LT Brown didn't know it but he was being targeted by Malouf's men who had put up with the reconnaissance flights long enough, assuming the aircraft were Libyan and not Layartebian. This morning, when LT Brown made his initial pass, Malouf ordered a SAM team to take up a position along the coastline and engage the fighter as it made its return pass. These men had the coveted 9K338 Igla-S missile, which had an effective range of about four miles, giving it just enough of an extra edge to engage the Viper. The two shooters stood ready, one hundred meters from one another as the Viper came back into view. Locking onto its infrared signature, the two Igla's were fired and almost from the moment that they were, LT Brown heard his cockpit go crazy.

The launch was picked up by the aircraft's missile warning system, which detected the rocket exhaust of the SAMs. That translated to klaxons that warned of incoming missiles. Stunned that he'd been fired at, LT Brown barely had time to register before the aircraft's countermeasures system went to work. Flares were automatically deployed, the infrared jamming system was activated, and two decoys were dropped. This was all done in a matter of two seconds, before the Igla-S missiles even closed to within half of the distance to the fighter. LT Brown quickly advanced the throttles to maximum and turned away from the missiles, an easy job since they had been fired from the aircraft's side quarters, the least ideal place. Kinetically, both missiles traveled the full length of their range before they ran out of steam and by then, the Viper was far enough away that they were unable to score kills but the message was clear, recce runs near Benghazi weren't going to be cake walks anymore.

---

• • •

[Terra Reborn]

Midshipman Rebecca Wilson IN
HMS Prince of Australia B09
International Waters off Cyrenaica, The Mediterranean Sea
Thursday 18th December 2014, 1200hrs Local Time (0200hrs Imperial Capital Time, 0600hrs Zulu Time)

Midshipman Rebecca Wilson stood on the upper decks of the sleek Imperial Battleship as the task force around it conducted its complex pirouette that would bring it around in short order onto a new heading. She had only been aboard the Prince of Australia for just over two weeks, and had only been in the Navy for a little a years, and had already seen combat. She had completed her Initial Officer’s Training at the Imperial Naval Academy on Kodiak Island and would undergo this, her Midshipman’s Cruise, before reporting for advanced training at the Imperial Navy’s warfare school at HMS Excellent in Alaska. It went without saying that, after the Benghazi Strike, her Midshipman’s Cruise had already been more exciting than most, and she had learnt a lot in even her short time aboard, particularly about the logistics, the intelligence, the planning and the actual execution that went into a strike like the one that the Imperial Navy had conducted against the Sigma-Nine Traitor and those that had been stupid enough to shelter him. She was proud to have been a part, even a small one, of that and in a small way she had helped to avenge King Walker’s murder.

Now as Force Z settled onto its new heading and began to steam to the north west the next stage of the task force’s adventure would take place, or more accurately it would haver a short break. Right now they were heading back to Gibraltar in order to re-arm the cells that had been expended in the Benghazi Strike, and whilst the dockyard teams were well practiced in such evolutions it would still take several days. Chances were that, at this rate, they would probably remain at Gibraltar until after Christmas, potentially even with leave authorised depending on the progress in the re-arming. Once everything was sorted and the ship’s company were back the task force would resume it’s original course for the Suez Canal, conducting a transit before heading south, around the African Continent, engaging in war games with the West Africa Squadron as a show of force against the Khorsuni, before heading home to Scapa Flow. Of course the added bonus of delaying at Gibraltar for longer was to remain in the theatre for longer, just in case something of interest occurred in Libya.

The outbreak of fighting was viewed by many in Naval and Intelligence circles as a more than acceptable cost for taking out a highly placed Sigma-Nine Target. The Empire had made it quite clear the cost of harbouring one of the regicides of King Walker, and the faction around Benghazi had learnt to their peril that the Empire wasn’t messing around on this one. The trouble it might cause the Libyans, and to an extent the Layartebian interest in the area, was viewed as regrettable, but in the grand scheme of things generally inconsequential. The news of the Benghazi Strike had had a encouraging effect back home; it was the first high profile capture or kill to take place since the end of the Crisis, and hammered home the fact that they would hunt down all those responsible for the mess. If what Captain Steele had indicated was correct as well it seemed that the intelligence community was dealing with a lot of new intelligence and tips, as some of those sheltering the regicides got scared of what could be coming their way; it was likely that the regicides would move on before the Imperial Military could hit them, but having them on the run rather than sheltered somewhere was an improvement.

Right now however Midshipman Wilson had more important things on her mind. She wasn’t on the upper deck just to watch the display of seamanship as the task force arranged itself into its new formation, no she had a job to do and, to her disgust, that job had meant that she had to wear her No.1 uniform. Fortunately in the warmer climes, of which the Mediterranean counted, the No.1 uniform was at least well suited to the climate. Instead of the heavy wool jackets worn in Temperate climates, the ‘tropical’ No.1 uniform consisted of a short-sleeved bush jacket worn with an open collar, matching trousers, a tricorn (in the case of females) cap and white leather shoes. MID Wilson was joined by a Fleet Chief Petty Officer, John Wilkinson, who was in fact the senior sailor aboard, and a group of ratings, also in dress uniform, on the bridge-wing of the Prince of Australia. The reason for their presence was obvious if one looked ahead of the ship, given that they would be approaching and passing close (relatively) alongside the Layartebian task force.

The Prince of Australia, the Battlecruiser Furious and their escorts were all flying Battle Ensigns (as all ships were authorised to after a successful engagement, in addition to (obviously) when they were in combat itself) from their halyards and looked resplendent. As the Prince of Australia began to pass by the Layartebian flagship the Fleet Chief Petty Officer nodded to the side boys, each holding a Boatswain’s Call, and they piped the distinctive sound of the ‘still’, which brought the handful of ratings (in working rig) on the upper decks to attention and facing the side. At the end of the eight second pipe Midshipman Wilson brought her right hand up in a salute, which she held until the Battleship had passed. Such a ceremony was the toned down, more operationally practical, version of manning the rails. If the Layartebians were paying attention, and were following tradition and protocol, they would have had a similar detail and rendered a salute as well, but without binoculars MID Wilson couldn’t see whether they had or not. Once they were clear she dismissed the detail and headed inside into the glorious air conditioning of the bridge.

“Nicely done, Ma’am,” The Fleet Chief Petty Officer said with a nod, MID Wilson couldn’t help but smile, high praise from one of the more higher rated individuals in the Navy, and FCPOs were notoriously difficult to please. “Just hope the Captain doesn’t stick you with ceremonial duties overtime we make port his voyage.”

“Oh god, Fleet Chief, I hope not,” MID Wilson shuddered. “Just because I’ll be sunburnt doesn’t mean I can’t still blush every time.”

The Fleet Chief Petty Officer simply smiled.

“You’ll do just fine, Ma’am,” FCPO Wilkinson assured her. “I tell you what, I’ll get you out of having to do it in Gibraltar, you still have to do your Seamanship evaluation for your task book, right?”

“Yeah, we haven’t come alongside since Scapa Flow after all,” MID Wilson replied. “What do you have in mind?”

“Report to me on the fo’c’s’le when we go to harbour stations to go into Gibraltar,” FCPO Wilkinson said simply. “You can stand with me and we’ll watch the buffer do his job and I’ll make sure you understand what’s going on.”

“Alright, Fleet Chief, I’d appreciate that,” MID Wilson smiled.

“No problem, Ma’am,” FCPO Wilkinson nodded. “If you want to get your Regulator DAP signed off, I believe the Master-at-Arms is available this Afternoon.”

“Thank You, Fleet Chief, I’ll definitely look into it,” MID Wilson nodded.

No problem, Ma’am,” FCPO Wilkinson repeated. “By your leave?”

“Of course,” MID Wilson smiled.

As she watched him go she could only assume that this was a good sign. Although a Senior Rate, certainly not one as senior as a Fleet Chief Petty Officer, would never openly disrespect a Midshipman, they were officers after all, they generally didn’t extend the additional courtesies when they didn’t have to; if nothing else to stop a Young Officer getting a big head. For FCPO Wilkinson to be doing so indicated that he approved of MID Wilson, and to have attained a Fleet Chief’s approval after only two weeks aboard was a very good sign. But she shook that off for the moment, she still had a great deal of work to be done and the sooner she completed it the better; if she completed her Departmental Acquaint Periods (DAPs) sooner she could probably start working towards gaining experience for her Bridge Watchkeeping Certificate; which would be fantastic to acquire even before attending the Basic Warfare Officer’s Course. For now she headed over to shadow the Officer of the Watch for the rest of the watch.

[Layarteb]

December 18, 2014 - 08:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

"As I understand this morning's memo, so that I might be completely clear on the events, one of our reconnaissance flights was shot at by two surface-to-air missiles?" The Emperor repeated into the phone. On the other end of the line was Chairman-General Barnes in the Ministry of Defense inside of his office.

"Yes sir that is correct, it's unmistakable that the aircraft was engaged by two missiles. They were fired too far away to be deadly and they were unable to close the distance to the aircraft before the pilot evaded but that is the situation sir."

"Was he too low, too close?"

"No sir, he was on his pre-briefed flight plan, which runs two nautical miles from the coastline at an altitude of just above SAM range. Intel had rumors that Malouf's men possessed new versions of the Igla-S, which would give the kinetic energy to engage our aircraft at that distance and altitude but it's on the missile's extreme limits. It's unlikely that the shooters suspected that they had no chance to engage. They were ordered to shoot at the aircraft and they did."

"To send a message no doubt," the Emperor drummed his fingertips on the desk. "What is the ground situation?"

"Cham's men are attacking the perimeter of Benghazi in force and we know that they plan to move on the airport, the Libyans shared that much with us sir."

"Do we need to think about a reactive strike?"

"Against what in particular sir? Unfortunately in this situation there isn't much of a target selection. Reconnaissance showed two men on the beach with launchers. The crew wouldn't have known they were there until their missile warning system caught the launch, which it did. It's unlikely that they are still there and if they were we would be wasting cluster bombs sir. It's best we let this go."

"Shamefully I might add."

"I agree sir but in this situation we just don't have any targets. Cyrenaica isn't benefiting from our intervention any more or less than they are from our lack of intervention. We're on station to support the Libyans and at this stage of the game it seems highly unlikely that the war will spill over onto the Libyan border area. King Yusuf's paranoia is simply unfounded."

"We'll remain on station," the Emperor said, already knowing that Chairman-General Barnes had opposition to the deployment of the carrier task force off of the Cyrenaican coastline.

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December 19, 2014 - 07:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Royal Palace of Tripoli
(32° 53' 16" N, 13° 11' 21" E)

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry to wake you so early," Qusay Asghar said as he strode into the King's office with Mazhar in tow. "However, this intelligence could not wait. Bassam picked it up only four hours ago and it's been vetted Your Majesty."

"All right, coffee?"

"Please Your Majesty," Qusay took a seat while Mazhar fixed three coffees, one for each man. When Qusay had rung thirty minutes earlier, King Yusuf was awake and so was Mazhar but there hadn't been any scheduled appointments until 09:00 so both men scrambled to prepare for Qusay's visit. The King hastily dressed in casual clothing and Mazhar prepared a pot of coffee, which had only just finished percolating five minutes before. Qusay put a manila folder on King Yusuf's desk and sat down across from him and next to Mazhar. Over coffee, King Yusuf read the document, his eyes progressively widening as he read.

"The implications of this find are serious. Where are Cham's forces?"

"They're still engaging on the perimeter Your Majesty but they're going to make a move on the airport in approximately three hours, give or take thirty minutes. Malouf's men at the airport are prepared for the assault though."

"So we've found Malouf's HQ and to top it off, Al-Shams' number three man is there to help him coordinate!" The intelligence that Bassam had gained in the wee hours of the morning was monumental and it was verified by men on the ground. Humam Tariq Qureshi was the number three man in Al-Shams, responsible for planning and it was logical that he would move to Benghazi to help Malouf run the war. "Has Al-Shams deployed more men?"

"Bassam believes that the twenty deployed are only to guard the cement factory. He believes another twenty could be on the way but it is not verified yet Your Majesty."

"How long is this valid?"

"Hard to tell Your Majesty but it appears Malouf's HQ isn't going anywhere unless by way of siege. The site is very secure and spacious. It's easy to defend and it is an ideal location."

"Bassam has done well I see," King Yusuf said with a smile. "It was right to promote him when we did Qusay, despite your initial objections." This was King Yusuf's version of "I told you so" and Qusay nodded, taking it in stride. "Very well, what do we do now?"

"We could bomb the facility Your Majesty, we have the capability."

"But we cannot be sure of success in killing Qureshi or Malouf. This is the leverage we need Qusay and it couldn't come at a better time. With Cham driving hard against Malouf's perimeter and about to assault the airport, the Layartebians will be most interested. It helps too that their reconnaissance plane was engaged yesterday morning. What will the Empire do if we pass this intel onto them?"

"They could react one of two ways Your Majesty. It is likely that - with their forces - they could engage in a limited ground assault to attempt to capture Qureshi, and of course Malouf by proxy. Or they could bomb the cement factory to ruins but again, they won't be able to confirm the deaths of either man and I believe the Layartebians would want Qureshi alive if they could get him. He would be a treasure trove to the Layartebians in terms of intelligence. They could break him."

"Very good," King Yusuf smiled. "I don't want to pass this on just yet though. I want to hold it for a time. It's actionable for sure but we must be absolutely certain that Malouf and Qureshi aren't going to relocate. We have to wait and see how Cham's forces do with the airport and what that means. If Malouf and Qureshi scatter afterwards then they scatter so I want us to take precautions."

"What kind?"

"I'm going to speak to Haydar about this." Haydar Abadi was the new Minister of Defence, elevated to the position after his predecessor, Ata Atabou, was caught while attempting to flee the country. The reason for his flight was that he was a Layartebian mole and Krim Mahrez discovered him. He was serving a ten year sentence in Abu Salim Prison near the university, confined to a cell whereby he spent twenty-three hours per day with his thoughts and one hour per day in an empty room, walking in a circle as a form of exercise. It was a cruel punishment and he would have had to serve life but a plea bargain and sympathy from King Yusuf reduced it to ten years. It would be a long ten years for Atabou. "My desire is to have a reactive strike ready at all times. Should they attempt to flee, the strike package could move over the border and strike their convoy. We have eyes on the ground Qusay?"

"We do Your Majesty with live tracking if necessary."

"I'm sure they'll need it. When we've verified that they'll stay put we'll leverage this to the Empire. It's my sincerest hope that they do. This would give us a major position with the Layartebians in the fight against Al-Shams."

"Perhaps Your Majesty can ask the Emperor why they choose to fight this war alone and quietly."

"It's on my mind to ask Qusay. Thank Bassam for me; this," he held up the folder, "is precisely what we need. Let's just hope it's useful."

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December 21, 2014 - 10:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

When it came to beautiful women, A'isha Kassab was one of the top ten in the Kingdom of Libya only she didn't reside there anymore. She resided in the Empire of Layarteb as the Libyan Ambassador to the Empire, a prestigious post that she'd earned through a remarkable career, though she was only thirty-two years old. Born in 1983, she graduated summa cum laude from the University of Tripoli with a bachelor's in political science. Two years later, she graduated again, with the highest honors a second time, with a master's degree in international relations. She immediately went to work for the Libyan Ministry of State where she caught the eye of Marid Hadad, the Minister of State, though it wasn't her looks that brought her to his attention, it was her unique and gifted understanding of Layartebian politics and foreign policy. At thirty, she was awarded the ambassadorship and shipped to the Empire in 2013, where she'd been ever since.

A'isha was single, by design and by choice. Her caramel-colored skin and long, straight, jet black hair sometimes made her stand out in a crowd and she didn't mind. This morning had been a busy one for her when she was awoken at 04:00 by her boss who gave her twenty minutes to prepare herself for a conference call with King Yusuf. Throwing on the previous day's outfit which was nearby her bed, she scrambled into a secure conference room and waited for the satellite uplink to complete. The meeting lasted forty-five minutes, during which time King Yusuf and Minister Hadad laid out her morning's task, which was quite something. When it was all over and she was asked if she had any questions she had only one, "If this doesn't work what's our 'Plan B'?"

"There isn't a 'Plan B' A'isha, it has to work," King Yusuf said with a smile. "I have trust and faith in you to sell this to the Emperor." When it was over she muttered to herself that trust and faith would only account for ten percent, luck might account for the other ninety.

Assembling her team, she had her secretary schedule a meeting with the Emperor for 10:00, giving her enough time to work through the strategy with her team and get herself prepared. One had to have a specific appearance when they appeared before the Emperor, even foreign ambassadors and A'isha had a reputation as a very stylish dresser. It would be warranted for her visit.

Arriving at 09:45, the customary fifteen minutes early, she stepped out of her car - a black, Mercedes-Benz E-class W212 sedan - into the chilly, just-above-freezing air on Governors Island. Accustomed but not acclimated to the cold, she walked quickly into the open doors of the Fortress of Comhghall where she handed her jacket to her main bodyguard, who would leave it in the car until her return. She was wearing a beige skirt, white blouse, and a beige blazer. Along with her "power heels" she also wore nude-colored pantyhose. She was taken under escort to the Emperor's reception room where his receptionist, Judy Mitchell, provided a cup of warm tea with milk and honey, along with a bottle of water. She was taken in to see the Emperor at precisely 10:00 on the dot.

Sitting in the Emperor's office, she was grateful for the fireplace, which filled the room with a comfortable, warm breeze. On her legs, the breeze made up for the fact that it was barely above freezing outside and that she was a girl of the desert. In attendance with the Emperor was only his National Security Advisor, Robert Crawford, and his Minister of Intelligence, Carmen Flores. Like A'isha, Carmen was dressed very professionally but in darker tones since her skin was significantly paler than A'isha's was. The men all wore dark, business suits. A'isha went through her opening, speaking pleasantries that were customary before she got to business. She spoke for twenty minutes without interruption, detailing the situation in Cyrenaica for the benefit of those present. Little that she said was unknown to the Layartebians. Then she posed a question, "Sir if I may ask and this is a request from King Yusuf himself; why does the Empire choose to fight Al-Shams alone and under the table?"

To this, the Emperor was taken aback. He hadn't expected such a question. "King Yusuf is concerned that our war against Al-Shams is too limited?"

"No sir, he is curious why it is a quiet war instead of a sledgehammer, paraphrasing."

"We've fought Sepah-e Pasdaran several times. We hit them as hard as we could with the help of the Eurasians and the Soviets. They reorganized in Turkey. So we hit them again, harder than before. They reorganized in Egypt. We hit them yet again, with the force of a sledgehammer. They reorganized in Saudi Arabia but they weren't called Sepah-e Pasdaran anymore. They called themselves Al-Shams. You see Miss Ambassador, we can hit them with the force of a sledgehammer but they keep coming back.

"To us," the Emperor continued, "they are a hydra. You're familiar with your Greek mythology?"

"I am sir."

"We can lob off as many heads as we want but there will always be more and more. Our approach has now shifted. We've struck them hard in places and yet we haven't destroyed their organization because of the way it is set up. Every time we lob off a head we lose something in the fight. Al-Shams reconstitutes itself somewhere. For every one we kill another is there to take his place. Al-Shams now exists as a fighting entity in many places: Cyrenaica being their main base of operations, Indonesia as Darul Islam Al-Shams, Senegambia as West African Jihad, just to name a few.

"They number in the thousands in these places and they will not go anywhere. We must fight them carefully, strategically. We cannot think only tactically on this battlefield or that, we have to think about the implications around the world as Al-Shams is a global organization. If we drop the hammer on the group in Senegambia we will undoubtedly drive more men to their cause and in doing so, we'll facilitate the creation of another group. It's a one-for-one exchange. Yet we fight them quietly, through less active means.

"We track the money, we track their operatives. We take down their small cells and we cooperate with individual agencies to ensure that Al-Shams doesn't pop up again. It's something not unlike containment."

"Then why sir do you exclude the majority of the world from your operations, cooperating only when it suits a specific, tactical need?"

"Simple Miss Ambassador," the Emperor leaned forward slightly. "The more nations involved in a coalition the more opinions, ROEs, and input we will have to accept from our partners. By fighting it alone we set the rules, we set the pace, and we set the objectives. A global coalition would be inefficient. There would be dozens of politicians leaking information and hamstringing forces. Al-Shams would grow exponentially every year. It's better to work on a case-by-case basis, sharing intelligence on a broad scale but acting only on a small scale. Do you understand?"

"I do sir," she said. The Empire was greedy. It didn't want to suffer the input of other nations; it wanted to do things its own way and damned the rest of the world. "Which makes this presentation unfortunate."

"Why is this?"

"Because sir, King Yusuf would like to be a partner in a coalition against Al-Shams; the Kingdom of Libya doesn't want to fight Al-Shams solely on a one-off basis. We want to fight Al-Shams in totality. We do not want a mere symbiotic relationship to this. We want a mutualistic relationship. We're prepared to hand over a very important piece of intelligence but only on the condition that the Kingdom of Libya and the Empire of Layarteb enter into an agreement to fight Al-Shams together."

"Perhaps King Yusuf would think differently if he understood why we fight the way we do," the Emperor said, aware that this had become something of a blackmail session. Whatever piece of intelligence A'isha had for him it had to be important if King Yusuf was using it to leverage this. He would think for a moment while she pondered the King's thoughts.

"He would not sir and I can say this confidently; King Yusuf is concerned that Al-Shams will benefit broadly from the fighting in Cyrenaica and in doing so, gain the confident and the strength to attack the Kingdom of Libya. If that were to be the case, we would fight Al-Shams on our terms regardless of your quiet war."

"I believe your government would be justified if that were the case but in all of the intelligence that we have, Al-Shams is mindful of fighting against your government. Their own assessments have found that the Libyan people are much too tolerant of non-Islamic values to be easily swayed. Your government knows this."

"They do sir you are right but Al-Shams has shown themselves to be unpredictable in the best of times. The situation in northern Cyrenaica is calamitous right now. Cham has secured the airport and just yesterday he opened another front against Malouf's perimeter defenses. Essa seems wholly unable to dig himself out of the hole he is in, which means Malouf can lose Benghazi and still escape to the south. Al-Shams could certainly benefit from this by providing Malouf with soldiers, funds, and information. They could buy their way into a pseudo-alliance with Malouf and benefit massively." The Emperor thought about this for a moment. Everything that A'isha said was beyond true. The Ministry of Intelligence was deeply worried that Al-Shams was going to make an alliance with Malouf and facilitate some sort of bloc with Bazzi. What the Empire knew, that the Libyans didn't, was that Al-Shams wanted something out of Bazzi that only a bloc could arrange. They wanted oil and Bazzi's territories had plenty of refineries that sat dormant. Al-Shams needed funds and if they were to gain ownership of a refinery, they could sell the oil on the black market and have more than enough funds for their operations around the world though they specifically wanted the money to help West African Jihad fight the Senegambians and the Khorsunis.

"There's a reason we want this to be a quiet war Miss Ambassador. Sharing command is never a good idea on the battlefield."

"Any military strategist from as far back as Sun Tzu would agree with that sentiment sir as would King Yusuf. Yet we want an equal stake in this fight and not to make it a large fight but to protect ourselves. We want to ensure that Al-Shams does not look to the west with hungry eyes, despite their convictions. They have plenty of reasons for attacking the Kingdom of Libya and unleashing terrorism upon our people. We want to be proactive sir, not reactive."

"So then," the Emperor said after a few minutes. "What does King Yusuf plan to offer?"

"Direct and actionable intelligence on Al-Shams' ventures with Malouf's forces sir."

"This is information we can get."

"Sir this is more extensive. It involves Qureshi, who is personally aiding Malouf in Benghazi." The name echoed in the Emperor's office. "Sir with this intelligence your military could deal a major blow to Al-Shams that would allow major operations to be launched to dismantle and weaken the organization's lesser parts and without the threat of regeneration. Only one of the Hydra's heads was immortal sir and Hercules cut it off and cauterized the wounds. This information would be that strike sir."

"When does it expire?"

"Not immediately sir but haste is urged."

"Miss Ambassador," the Emperor said looking at his colleagues. "We will need to discuss the implications and I may place a direct call to King Yusuf himself, will you be available throughout the day?"

"I will sir," he stood and she followed. They shook hands and the Emperor led her out of his office.

"We'll decide on this matter by this evening at the latest."

"Thank you for your time sir." She said as she left, heading back to the front door under escort where her bodyguard was waiting with her coat. Sliding into the backseat of her car, she waited until they were off of the causeway before answering her aid's question as to how it was received, "It shook them up like an earthquake. They're wondering right now how the Kingdom of Libya outfoxed them in the intelligence game, not that we haven't done this before," she smiled, knowing only that when it came to Atabou's treachery, the Libyan intelligence services outfoxed the mighty, omnipresent Empire.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 21, 2014 - 21:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

"Thank you for coming so late in the evening, I know this is a bit unusual," the Emperor said as the country's Special Council took their seats around the conference table. The Special Council consisted of Chairman-General Barnes, Minister Sanders of Defense, Minister Fisher of Foreign Affairs, Minister Flores of Intelligence, Minister Wright of the Interior, Minister Cooper of Justice, and Robert Crawford, the National Security Advisor. Some of them had an inkling of why the meeting was happening but not all of them and those who did only did so because they had been present earlier when A'isha and the Emperor met. To call such a meeting on a Sunday evening, let alone on Solstice - for that was what it was - the subject matter had to be of the highest importance possible. Each of these men and women had been pulled away, at last minute, from their families and that was significant.

The Emperor sat last, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did. In front of him was a thin, manila folder stamped with all manner of adornment declaring it to be classified beyond comprehension; he began once he was seated, "Earlier today, some of you were there, I met with the Libyan ambassador, A'isha Kassab. It was an unexpected and unscheduled meeting and I thank those of you who were present," he meant these words, directing them to Minister Flores and Crawford. "The subject of that meeting concerned the ongoing situation in Benghazi. It would appear that the Libyans outfoxed us in the great intelligence game and had in their possession a piece of intelligence we would find very interesting. It concerned Al-Shams' direct involvement with Malouf's forces and the Battle of Benghazi.

"Adding to this, the information is specific and actionable. What they wanted in exchange was a partnership with us on the fight against Al-Shams. It would appear that King Yusuf, and I spoke to him directly, objects to our 'go it alone' approach to Al-Shams, even after I explained our reasoning. King Yusuf is worried that Al-Shams might bring the fight to his own territory, despite the fact that his own intelligence, and ours, suggests otherwise.

"I spoke at length with him, two and a half hours in total. I could not persuade him away from his situation and in the end I had to fold. The Kingdom of Libya and the Empire of Layarteb will be equal partners in the fight against Al-Shams and no I am not happy about this whatsoever but my counterpart backed us against a wall.

"This," he waved the manila folder, "is what it cost us. Chairman-General, if you'll be so kind as to look at it first." He passed it down the line and to Chairman-General Barnes, who opened the folder and read the first paragraph. When he looked up at the Emperor, astonished, the Emperor merely shook his head. "The Libyans," he explained for the benefit of everyone around, "have verified that Al-Shams' number three man, none other than Humam Tariq Qureshi and a force of twenty to forty Al-Shams terrorists are not only assisting Malouf and his militia but directly protecting him and coordinating the battle. And they're doing it all from the Benghazi Cement Factory, where Malouf has set up his headquarters.

"Complicating matters right now is the fight. As I understand it, Cham's forces have broken through the perimeter defenses of the city at two key locations, meaning the rest of the line is bound to fall. The Libyans are keeping constant watch of the facility through drones and airborne reconnaissance and I also believe they have eyes on the ground too. Both men are there and they don't appear to be running away though perhaps that will change if Cham's forces knock on their front door. At any rate that doesn't appear to be happening immediately, which gives us time, a few days, four or five at most, to execute an operation against the Benghazi Cement Factory. I want Qureshi alive." He said this with such clarity there was no mistaking what the Emperor wanted.

"Sir, this is complicated." Chairman-General Barnes began, "We need our own eyes on the target and then, to assault it, in the middle of a war we have no stake in sir."

"I know what I'm asking Chairman-General. It would be a thousand times easier to simply level the target to rubble and then perform DNA on the bodies but I want Qureshi alive. Qureshi under interrogation would break and give us more valuable information than any of us can imagine. It's worth the mission to get him alive."

"We'll have to plan this quickly sir."

"We have forces in theater, right?"

"Yes sir, a Marine expeditionary brigade and some SEALS but sir, this is a mission that would require much more than that to pull off successfully."

"Chairman-General, nothing about this mission is regarded as sane or sensible but Qureshi is right there for our taking. I want him alive!"

"Yes sir," over the next forty-five minutes, the intelligence and the plan was discussed. Minister Sanders and Chairman-General Barnes would coordinate with Minister Flores to get some men on the ground to look at the target directly. Any raid launched would have to be done quickly and in force, meaning Marines operating with the SEALS, who would make the actual assault on the target. It would require the cooperation of the Libyans and as much air support as necessary if something went haywire. It would be at least twenty-four hours before an initial plan could be made and in that time, everyone would be wondering just how far Cham got. His forces were the key to the operation. If they were stalled or bogged down it was likely that Malouf and Qureshi would remain there but if they got too close they could leave and seek an alternate HQ, meaning the opportunity would be wasted.

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December 22, 2014 - 09:30 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Royal Palace of Tripoli
(32° 53' 16" N, 13° 11' 21" E)

Everyone rose as King Yusuf entered the room and as he sat so too did they. Assembled before him were his cabinet ministers but only a handful would be important this morning. Sitting in the back of the room, along the walls were Mazhar, Bassam, and Krim, among some other aides. "Yesterday evening I brokered a deal with the Emperor of Layarteb concerning their fight against Al-Shams. As we've discussed amongst ourselves many times before, the Layartebian fight against Al-Shams is too unilateral and it does not benefit us as much as it benefits them. We play the role of a vassal but not as an equal. That has changed thanks to the impressive intelligence gathering prowess of our External Security Bureau.

"The information I'm about to share with the room is sensitive. There are to be no leaks to the press and no leaks beyond those who are in this room. It is compartmentalized information and I want to stress that any leak would jeopardize all that we've worked to achieve with the Layartebians. Should that happen I will make it my duty to determine who sabotaged us and ensure that he sits in a cell next to Atabou for the rest of his, or her, natural existence. Is that understood?" Verbal responses came from everyone in the room, satisfying King Yusuf. "Very well, a high level functionary in Al-Shams is providing assistance to Malouf. He is helping to coordinate the battle and twenty to forty Al-Shams terrorists are acting as body guards for Malouf's headquarters, the location of which is an unimportant detail right now. I have brokered a deal with the Layartebians whereby this information and its details were passed to them in exchange for a full partnership with them on the fight against Al-Shams.

"I spoke with the Emperor personally for over two hours yesterday evening about this. The reason, as he explained it, for the Empire's unilateral approach is simply greed. They don't want to share command, forces, or negotiate with other political heads about how and when to act. I understand I respect this. I can understand precisely why the Empire is fighting Al-Shams as they are. The fighting methods employed against their predecessors and other smaller, affiliated groups were short-term solutions. They achieved destruction of a force or a cell but not of the organization and the strategic fight being waged against Al-Shams is more effective than the tactical fight against the affiliates. That isn't to say cells still aren't targeted for specific action; the Empire is focusing on achieving a more permanent solution to Al-Shams.

"Regardless," King Yusuf returned to the topic, "the Layartebians have agreed and they plan to conduct military action against Malouf's headquarters with the purpose of capturing this Al-Shams functionary. As I understand it, they have no compulsion to capture Malouf alive; and should they, he will be handed over to us. If he dies in the fighting, so be it. I can agree to this and I further agreed to cooperate with them. Qusay, they have requested our assistance putting a military intelligence team on the ground. I would ask you and your men to support them in that endeavor. I believe this team of this is already airborne and on the way to Al-Jufra. Assign your best men and most trustworthy men to liaise with them please."

"Yes Your Majesty."

"Haydar, the military action conducted will be large. It will involve air and ground forces. Benghazi is what, two hundred and twenty kilometers from our border?"

"Around that Your Majesty."

"Then it is feasible our long-range radars and our naval radars will pick up their ingress."

"We would Your Majesty. I highly doubt they could make that kind of operation stealthy."

"We must ensure that the movement of aircraft is not reported. We must ensure that the Layartebians achieve total surprise and that we do not spoil it for them. Can we impose a communications blackout on our forces between a certain time to ensure that they achieve surprise?"

"We could Your Majesty but in doing so we'll certain alert our men that something is going to happen. That will raise the suspicion of everyone operating a radar and they could talk about it."

"What is the best solution then?"

"I will have to confer with our generals Your Majesty and present you with a solution at a later time. I must see if we have specific protocols in place that we can use that would keep suspicion down. How much time do we have, roughly?"

"We would have to iron this out over the next twenty-four hours."

"I'll make it a priority then Your Majesty," King Yusuf nodded his head, appreciative of his staff's exuberance to the task. No one was arguing that anything they did was wrong and no one was arguing that action shouldn't be taken. This wasn't because they were sycophants, quite the contrary, many had argued with King Yusuf about his reticence in approaching the Emperor for a more direct role in the fight against Al-Shams. Now that it had been achieved, there was nothing left to argue about anymore. It was the time for action.

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December 23, 2014 - 15:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Tango Station
(32° 13' 34" N, 19° 3' 24" E)

"No, it's a shit plan," Chief Petty Officer Harold Flynn said, repeating what he'd said at least a dozen times before. "This has too many moving parts, too many men involved. We go in hard and fast and get out of there faster. Give us some Little Birds and we can assault quietly after midnight, neutralize the guard force, capture Qureshi, and get back out before anyone even knows we're there. If we go in like this, with the Marines, with the cavalry, every asshole in Benghazi is going to know we're there and they're going to flock there like flies to shit. No, this is a shit plan." The men around him didn't disagree, including the big man in charge but his hands were tied.

Lieutenant Commander Billy Wilson had expressed his doubts when he'd been first given the plan and he knew what the reaction of the SEALS under him would be but orders were orders and here he was, giving it to them and getting the shit in return. "It seems that this one comes from the highest office in the land," he said finally, giving them an air of pause. He'd hoped not to have to say this but it needed to be said. "The Emperor was personally given the information that's brought us here and he wants Qureshi alive. Command doesn't seem to think that it's a good idea sending thirty-two SEALS into an active combat zone without some backup. The only backup available is the Marines and while they might be gorillas, they're gorillas who can levy a lot of firepower. They'll stay out of our way and pull out after we do and that's their problem. Our mission is Qureshi."

"Shit plan," CPO Flynn said, not letting up and that was fine. He was known for being a ballbuster to bad plans and he got away with it because he was never wrong and when he was asked input he always had something to add that worked out well and stunned the war planners that they'd forgotten it but that was why he was a SEAL and they weren't. "The Marines will make too much noise. For them to insert the navy has to neutralize the anti-air and the fixed positions, which means fighters screaming over the beach and dropping bombs and firing missiles. Before we ever get within the perimeter of the target they're going to know someone's coming for them and they're going to flee. We'll be left shooting up the place for no reason. Little Birds are quiet, you insert us a klick away and we move through the night and take out the perimeter defenses from the south, get through the perimeter, and then we assault the factory and get this son of a bitch alive."

"There's nothing to stop them from fleeing still."

"No there isn't but I can guarantee you that by the time they figure out what's going on we'll be at their doorstep. We've got a much better chance than if we land twenty-four Ospreys and four Hueys. They'll hear them coming before they're even over the beach."

"You might be right Chief but I hate to do this to you but it's a done deal. This is how it'll happen," LCDR Wilson effectively pulled rank on the enlisted man who opened his mouth to say something but thought twice. It was a shit plan, everyone knew it but orders were orders and in this case they had only one choice, to assault the cement factory behind a battalion's worth of Marines. "Now in the meantime we're going to run through it again. If you're going to interrupt then add something, don't just say that the plan sucks." LCDR Wilson nodded to the troop's Ops Officer or N3, Senior Chief Petty Officer Phil Cope.

"Dusk is around 17:45 with total darkness by 19:15 around this time of year. Our current position is forty-eight nautical miles off of the coastline and a line distance of fifty-six nautical miles from the target. That puts a flying time of approximately thirty minutes. Launch time is set for 21:30.

"Approximately five mikes prior to insertion, four Vipers from the navy will strike key targets around the vicinity of the cement factory, which includes fixed positions and anti-aircraft artillery. The last round of photographs showed three technical parked around for support and they will be neutralized as well.

"At 22:00, the Ospreys will set down on the road east and west of the target at eight points along the way. They will discharge the Marines who will set up blocking positions. The positions are designated Alpha through Delta on the west and Echo through Hotel on the east. Position India and Juliet are subsequently north and south of the target. The Marines will deploy their main HQ element to position Alpha along with the HQ element of the first rifle company along with one rifle platoon. Bravo and Charlie will take two additional rifle platoons and the Marine company will spread its weapons guys around the three positions. The second rifle company will deploy its HQ and lead platoon to Echo with its other platoons on Foxtrot and India. The third company will put its HQ and lead platoon on Delta and its other two companies on Gamma and Hotel. The battalion's recce platoon will deploy to Juliet. That constitutes the main blocking force, a total of five hundred and ninety-four Marines. You boys have never had that kind of support behind you. Command doesn't want your position to be overrun in a city teeming with hostiles.

"Simultaneous to this insertion, you boys will deploy to the target itself. We've opted to fast rope onto the target from four Seahawks with one squad per Seahawk. We feel this is the quickest way to achieve surprise given the entire force deployment. The target is wholly yours. The N2 will give you information on the bad guys at the target. Once you secure the HVT you'll bring him to Alpha. The Marines are deploying a five-man MP squad who will take the prisoner from there. The Marines also have an eight-man fire support section to coordinate close air support and naval gunfire should we require artillery. Naval gunfire is the least accurate option here so if we run into that kind of trouble be prepared for a lot of incoming fire. Now I'll turn it over to the N2."

Like the N3, the N2 was a SCPO named Bruce Doyle. Bruce was pretty much a fan favorite throughout the troop so he would garner no shortage of absolute attention from the men. "Thanks Phil. All right, recon shows three technical and two fixed machine gun positions located here, here, and here. There is a ZPU-2 positioned here, here, and here, making eight total targets. Navy committed four planes to it though they only need one and in reality that just means two but they're hell bent on making sure there's a lot of support.

"To the west of the target are a cemetery and a mosque. We have no indication of hostile forces using the mosque but the Marines are going to investigate anyway to make sure. This large tract of land here to the south is mostly for the factory itself and there may be some patrols in here and the Marines are responsible for them. This large 'V' here is the main digging pit in case you're wondering.

"We believe there are twenty to forty Al-Shams terrorists providing immediate protection at the facility. Qureshi and Malouf along with Malouf's HQ staff are all located within the cement factory and we believe their primary base is this large, rectangular building here running east-to-west. To its northwest is another building that could house additional staff. These are heavy duty, sturdy buildings, the kind we'd need to hit with a penetrating bomb if we wanted to neutralize them, which means they're fortified against indirect fire. They're ideal for Qureshi and Malouf."

"First Squad you'll assault this large building and Second Squad you'll assault this auxiliary building. Third Squad we believe this area to the facility's northwest, adjacent to Alpha is largely unoccupied except for some vehicles. Destroy the vehicles and sweep the area. Fourth Squad we're inserting you on the eastern face north of First Squad's building over here. Sweep and clear through here and provide backup. The Marines at India will take care of these small buildings to the extreme east of the target's property and those at Echo will take care of these ones to the east of them beyond the fence." The N3 cut in as the N2 yielded the floor.

"Outside of the AS terrorists, Malouf may have some of his own men there. What we know about them is simple. Malouf's men are untrained and undisciplined. They have Kalashnikovs but they don't treat them well. AS terrorists are different, expect training and discipline. These are the men who will shoulder and fire on semi-auto. Malouf's men like rock-and-roll and they don't take time to aim. They're sloppy and they should be easy prey out in the open. Expect AS terrorists to react with coordination and they may try to flank your positions. Bog them down fast and neutralize them as quickly as possible. The longer you're in a static position the more advantage they have. They're not trained like we are but if you give them enough time they can and will outflank you.

"Now, what about reinforcements? Malouf's men are bogged down throughout the city. Cham's forces have broken through the perimeter in six places now. It was only two yesterday but they've done well flanking Malouf's positions. There's no direct danger however from Cham's forces to the target area. They're still over eight klicks away. The nearest we have ascertained reinforcements is a position here, five klicks to the north-northwest. In case you're wondering what this is, it is Al Hawary Hospital. Malouf has a garrison there of approximately one to two hundred men, a company-sized force. We told command we want to neutralize it but they're concerned about collateral damage, go figure. They'll deploy six hundred Marines but they won't neutralize a confirmed target.

"This force is equipped with technical at the highest possibility, no armor. It'll be up to the Marines to neutralize them coming in and they'll have no shortage of anti-tank weaponry. Any questions?"

"Yeah, what kind of armament are we expecting from the guys on the ground?" LT Clay Sapp, the senior officer of Alpha Platoon asked. He would lead First Squad, and all of the SEALS by proxy, in this raid.

"Kalashnikovs mainly but expect the normal bevy of Third World weaponry. They'll be mismatched, whatever they could find but they'll have RPGs and RPKs. You might even see some PKMs. The fixed positions we're neutralizing are all heavy machine guns, either NSVs or Dushkas. Expect the technicals to have NSVs or Dushkas. The place may be booby trapped so keep an eye where you step but considering it's a main facility this is likely a low probability. Consider the main and occupied areas likely to be safe but don't take chances. Watch your footing. Anything else?"

"What's the plan if this whole thing bogs down and becomes a fight?" CPO Flynn asked.

"For you fellas, the plan is to evac south into the open area. I know that's a bad idea generally speaking but that's the best place we can land helicopters. The Marines will evac to the south as well under cover of artillery and close air if necessary. There won't be any shortage of close air on this one either fellas. The entire carrier air wing is at our disposal along with an AC-42 Atlas Hammer out of Crete that will be on station throughout the night. The air force has four aircraft there now so there will always be one on station with tanker support over the Med. Medevac has multiple points: Alpha, Delta, and Echo. These will be determined by the severity of the casualty and the resistance at the point."

"What kind of armor does Malouf have?" The question came from PO1 Justin Saunders, the sniper in Second Squad.

"Mainly technicals but we've spotted some BMPs in the city. They have artillery in the form of howitzers but they can't shoot for shit. We observed them firing on Cham's forces and they aren't very good. They fire on an area target and don't utilize spotters. They have mortars too but they're even less accurate with them. There are some tanks though." At this, everyone suddenly perked up a little. Tank was a horrible word to hear when you are an infantryman and the SEALS were infantry. "Malouf has a few dozen tanks, mostly T-55s but he has a handful of T-62s as well. They're old and out of date but they work and they work well against infantry. One T-55 managed to hold back Cham's forces at one of the perimeter points until they destroyed it with RPGs. They lost about two dozen men in the process. They may have night sights on the T-62s, we're unsure. The T-55s won't have night sights. The Marines are bringing along Coronas and Carl Gustavs to deal with them at range. Word of advice, everyone pack a LAW."

"What's the evac plan?" PO2 Doug Thatcher, the corpsman in Fourth Squad asked.

"Ideally before first light, which is at 06:15. Dawn is at 07:38. Aim to be in the air as quickly as possible. The longer we stay the greater our chance of disaster will be. The Marines aren't pulling out until we pull out and you're not pulling out until we have Qureshi. Malouf is non-essential. If we get him we get him, if we don't tough. The Libyans get their hands on him if we get him alive but frankly I don't care about the Libyans. If it's all the same to me, shoot him and leave the corpse," the N3 said.

"All right that wraps it up?" Asked LCDR Wilson to nodding heads, "We're set then. Do what you have to do we're launching in five hours."

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 23, 2014 - 21:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Tango Station
(32° 13' 34" N, 19° 3' 24" E)

"We're aborting!" LCDR Wilson said over the troop's radio net, much to the dissatisfaction of nearly all of the SEALS. Despite it being a shit plan, they had all brought themselves into war mode and now they had to stand down. "Report to the briefing room and I'll give you the skinny, Wilson out," he added. On the flight deck, the Seahawks would be towed back into the hangar and the SEALS in the hangar all collectively sighed as they trudged their way down to the briefing room. "Well it isn't the first time we've been ready to go and we've gotten recalled," LCDR Wilson said as the first thing after the men had gotten seated. "Bruce you mind giving the info?"

"No sir," SCPO Bruce Doyle came up to the head of the room from the where he stood along the outer wall. "It's a temporary abort. We're going to try again tomorrow night. We received word approximately ten minutes ago from the Libyans that they couldn't guarantee our ingress. By that I mean they didn't hold up their end of the bargain. It wasn't necessary to talk about earlier but now I'll give you the scoop.

"An agreement with the Libyans was made in advance of the mission. The Libyan military was going to ensure our secrecy by having their various radar and patrol vessels switch off their radars in a system test. The Libyans never got the word out, for whatever reason. Thankfully that means the plan can be recycled tomorrow but it means we're scrubbed today. Command was worried that the Libyans would pick us up on radar, transmit the incursion, and somehow that would get to Al-Shams that we're on the way. The Libyan Internal Security Bureau suggested the scrub. They're concerned that Al-Shams or Malouf or Cham or whoever might have plants within the Royal Libyan Defense Force, which monitors the radars. So that's the gist of it. Get some rest I guess and we'll try again tomorrow."

"It's a big operation with a lot of moving parts, I get it gentlemen," LCDR Wilson said coming back to the center of the room. "Tomorrow we'll try again and yes I know it's Christmas Eve but in this part of the world that means shit. To our benefit, Cham hasn't made any further advances since this afternoon and it's unlikely they'll make much in the way of advancing overnight. They seem to relax during the evening hours, they're not good night fighters. Dismissed!"

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December 23, 2014 - 22:30 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Royal Palace of Tripoli
(32° 53' 16" N, 13° 11' 21" E)

"This is highly embarrassing," King Yusuf said on the phone. On the other end of the line was his Minister of Defence who was apologizing for the oversight. "Just make sure we succeed tomorrow! The Layartebians can renege on this deal still." He put the phone down and looked at Mazhar who was still by his King's side.

"Your Majesty, they'll rectify it tomorrow I am sure. What was Haydar's answer for the oversight?"

"The orders never went out rightly because one of our generals questioned them and did not receive an adequate response. He would not name the general but I suspect the general was following his own protocols. We'll make the attempt tomorrow."

"It is a difficult endeavor as I understand it. Individual orders to each station suggesting that they - and only they - conduct a test of their systems during a specific window. Without the stations knowing that it is a larger test they will assume there is coverage and shut down their systems and test accordingly. It's a good plan Your Majesty but it is tedious to transmit."

"Yes it is Mazhar. I just hope the Layartebians can still salvage their operation tomorrow. Cham's forces won't be doing anything overnight and in the morning when they resume their fighting they'll be focused still on capturing the city, not driving down to Malouf's HQ. Bassam suggested that his HQ's location is unknown to Cham at present."

"That's to our, and the Empire's benefit then."

"There's something else that Bassam mentioned today and I'm only just now recalling it. Essa has declared a stalemate with Malouf's commander in Al-Abyar. It's not a truce by any means but it's a stalemate. From what Bassam said, the two forces will stop bludgeoning one another and they'll likely stick to probing attacks on one another's lines. Those lines are rather solid and secure so that will likely be as far as Essa's forces go. Cham still has the opportunity to capture Benghazi, providing Al-Shams does not commit men."

"What's the likelihood?"

"Bassam's unsure. He suspects that if Malouf is on the verge of losing he'll accept help. Until then he believes he can handle it on his own. They'll have to come up the Ajdabiya-Jawf Highway to get there. Bassam's passed that information along to the Layartebians and our own air force is watching the highway. If we get word that Al-Shams is sending a convoy of fighters I've authorized the air force to go into Cyrenaican territory and destroy the vehicles. The Layartebians may do the same; they've deployed their newest aircraft, the Trident, to Al-Jufra just in case."

"If that should be the case," Mazhar said, "I would rather we handle it than them. They'll be as effective but it will give us more clout."

"Yes, yes it would…"

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December 24, 2014 - 10:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

Looking out at the rainy skies of Layarteb City, the Emperor heard the opening doors behind him and shifted to the conference table where Chairman-General Barnes and Minister Sanders sat down at his beckoning. The doors shut and the three men were alone. "Sir, Operation BRONZE PALADIN will be launched in six and a half hours. The Libyans have confirmed that they'll shut down their radar network for the appropriate window. They'll pass the orders down in five and a half hours. We expect the blackout to last fifteen to twenty-five minutes commencing during the main part of our assault. They can't guarantee that it will work but it's all they can offer us."

"Chances?"

"Sir, it's plausible that a station may pick up the initial takeoff of the aircraft and leave their radars on and report it. This isn't out of the realm of possibility sir."

"In that case?"

"We press on sir; the element of surprise may still be achieved. It will take some time for said station to decipher what they're seeing and pass on the information. By the time they get a response we might already be on the ground sir."

"Very well, we won't scrub in that case. Who's leading the battle then?"

The Minister of Defense withdrew a sheet of paper from his briefcase and put it on the table in front of him. "The SEALS will be led by Lieutenant Commander Wilson aboard the Nótt. Their platoon leader is Lieutenant Clay Sapp. I've pulled both of their dossiers sir and they've been in combat before. They're solid men to have in charge. Wilson has received a favorability rating of high for promotion to admiral sir and in JSOC they believe he may one day lead the SEALS. The Marines have elected to deploy the 171st Marine Infantry Battalion under the command of Lieutenant Colonel William Harris. He's decorated sir with a Silver Star for bravery and two Purple Hearts. He's no stranger to combat obviously. Regimental commander is Colonel Bob Pierce. Brigadier General Omar Grimm leads the 25th Marine Brigade and the entire 7th Marine Division is under the command of Major General Randy Sardina. From what I gather sir, Brigadier General Grimm is going to be the man calling most of the shots, he's the more experienced of the three and Major General Sardina confirmed that he will act purely as a liaison between the Ministry of Defense and the task force. Colonel Pierce will be assisting Brigadier General Grimm."

"So long as the chain of command isn't convoluted."

"No sir," Minister Sanders replied. "The men on the ground have the complete backing of the entire task force and its air wing. The four AC-42s from Crete will be on station throughout the night for fire support and our air wing at Al-Jufra is prepped and ready to respond but that's a long haul for them, some three hundred odd miles. We have long-range aviation there that can handle the task and tanker support over the Med will be constant but they won't have a very quick response time. The quickest will be the Harriers aboard the 7th Amphibious Ready Group at Tango Station forty-eight nautical miles from the coastline. The attack helicopters will come next. The rest of the carrier strike group is still out at Lima Station and the escorts are positioned around the entire force but we still only have a single escort group, not that there is any credible threat to our vessels sir."

"Well credible or not let's ensure they don't lose sight of their own self-defense."

"Yes sir," Minister Sanders said to Chairman-General Barnes' shaking head. The big man was in full agreement with the Emperor.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 24, 2014 - 21:10 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Tango Station
(32° 13' 34" N, 19° 3' 24" E)

Passing over Tango Station, the two F-58D Vipers were just nine minutes from the cement factory and even less from engaging the targets around it. Leading the flight was LT Kenny "Moon" Nielsen who had, for the past three minutes, been trying to ascertain why he was getting an FLCS fault in his cockpit. Not that it made sense then but it made even less sense when they passed over Tango Station and the port-side engine went into panic mode. Quickly shutting it down, he knew that this meant an abort for him. The original plan to fly in a flight of four had been broken up into two flights of two to allow for spacing. The other aircraft were considerably far behind the lead pair. "Raptor, I think I'm going to abort here. I've had an FLCS Fault and now I've lost engine one. Can you press on by yourself?"

"Roger Moon, I'm five-by-five."

"Ten-four, I'm RTB."

"Safe home Moon, see you on deck," LTJG Morris answered as he looked to his port side and saw the malfunctioning F-58D Viper bank away gently. The Viper was twin-engined so it could still fly with one engine but there was no point flying into combat with an already wounded aircraft. It would be up to Morris alone to neutralize the defensive targets but that wasn't a big deal. There were eight targets to neutralize: three technicals, three ZPU-2s, and a pair of fixed machine gun positions. He was flying in with eight GBU-53A/B SDB II bombs and six AGM-169B Brimstone missiles. The air-to-air loadout was light, only a pair of AIM-204A Escape missiles since there was no viable air-to-air threat.

Pressing on, LTJG Morris was somewhat pleased. It was now solely up to him and he didn't mind that one bit. He'd been thoroughly bored with the recce flights and even after he'd been shot at he still found them less than thrilling. Now he could finally drop live ordinance on targets and he could do it from the safety of 20,000 feet where no MANPAD could touch him. It was a bit of a cheat he told himself but that was just fine for him. He didn't mind danger but he did mind foolishness. Closing on the coastline at 400 knots, he could see the outline of Benghazi through is night vision goggles. It was pitch black and the oblivion before him was his cover.

"Why don't we start locking up the targets, we should be in range now," he suggested to his WSO who was already scanning with the aircraft's EOTS. The flight system for the Viper fully allowed deployment of modern weaponry in salvo situations if the weaponry supported it. Both the SDB II and the Brimstone were fully capable of salvo firing thanks to their fire-and-forget nature. For the WSO, the task was simple. Using his main MFD he could select targets one after the other and assign them to the database. Then on his other MFD he could assign each weapon to each target, run a system's check to make sure he didn't duplicate anything, and then program that into the weapons. All that was required was for the pilot to steer to the release point and press the thumb trigger. The aircraft would do the rest.

"All right I've got a visual on the target area but we've got a problem."

"What kind of problem Joker?"

"The tank kind."

"What!" LTJG Morris hadn't heard anything about tanks in the briefing. "Say that again?"

"I'm seeing two, no four, six, six tanks. Type T-62 I think. They're deployed around the area."

"Briefing didn't say anything about tanks in the vicinity. Six tanks and eight targets, that's cutting it real close. We need one hundred percent on our weapons."

"Actually it's going to get better. There's four MG positions that I can see."

"Four?"

"Four so that's sixteen targets all together. We've only got fourteen weapons. Feel like strafing?"

"Not particularly, hard-deck is ten thousand for this."

"Well then we're two weapons short," Joker answered. "Feel like bringing in the backup?"

"Hell no," LTJG Morris said in defiance as he looked at the controls in front of him. Autopilot was keeping the aircraft on course so there was little for him to do now though that would change soon. "Well shit that could work," he said as an idea bloomed in his head.

"What?"

"Technicals are nothing but pick-up trucks anyway, right?"

"Right."

"We'll use the Escapes on two technicals."

"The Escapes? They're air-to-air."

"They'll work air-to-ground. We just need to get them on the target. They won't do anything against the tanks and the MG positions are too hard to target but we can use them on the technicals. Hell they've got a twenty-five pound warhead, that's more than the Brimstones have."

"Okay might work, let me fix the targeting parameters, I'll have to start over again. We'll have to get the main force on the first pass and then come around for the technicals. I'm going to isolate the two on the south and west and then we'll neutralize them on the second pass. It'll be tough we'll have to lock up each one individually."

"Fine with me, get the Brimstones on the tanks and the SDBs on the fixed targets. I want to shoot them first and then we'll drop the bombs."

"Aye aye," ENS Taylor answered as he went to work resetting the targets. LTJG Morris looked at the clock and took the aircraft off of autopilot.

"Charlie Echo, this is Ghostrider 608 we're solo on strike. Additional information from pre-strike reconnaissance are you ready?"

"Go Ghostrider 608."

"Roger uh we've got six T-62s, I repeat six Tango 62s on the ground and two additional MG positions, repeat two additional Mike-Golf positions. We're rolling in on the targets now, we'll use air-to-air on the technicals. Advise the assault force that it'll take some extra time and to slow down a little."

"Understood Ghostrider 608, do what you can, report if targets cannot be neutralized."

"Ghostrider 608 will do, out," LTJG Morris flipped the Master switch to the ARM setting and watched the range to the target close. They were just twenty miles out now and he could fire the Brimstones anywhere less than twelve miles though it was advisable to shoot them at fewer than eight. The SDB IIs could be released from ten miles out though.

"All right you're set for ordinance," his WSO said from the backseat and using the buttons on his stick, he selected his air-to-ground ordinance and brought up the Brimstone missiles first. The HUD changed to show that he had six and a salvo launch of all six was ready. Flipping one of his MFDs to the stores management system or SMS he confirmed this was the case and watched the range meter drop. At ten miles he went into a shallow dive and at eight miles and 18,000 feet he pressed the thumb trigger and watched as the six missiles shot forward in pairs. It took all of three seconds for them to go and with that he selected his SDB II bombs and at 16,000 feet and six miles he dropped them all, watching them fall at half second intervals all eight off in four seconds.

"Weapons are free, pulling up," he pulled the aircraft up now, climbing to 24,000 feet, focusing not on the weapons but on piloting the aircraft. His WSO was watching them through the aircraft's EOTS system.

The Brimstones, because they were powered and supersonic, slammed home first. "Six for six on the tanks!" ENS Taylor shouted with extra enthusiasm from the back seat. The bombs came down next, slamming into all of the machine gun positions, the three ZSUs, and one of the technicals, which was parked near a now burning T-62 tank. "Eight for eight on the bombs, we're looking good!"

LTJG Morris didn't answer; he just flipped the aircraft around and put it into a dive. "Give me one of the technicals fast and then get ready to switch to the other after I fire."

"Roger that, selecting the first one now," LTJG Morris flipped to his Escape and heard the distinct growl of the infrared-guided missile. He could see in his HUD the target reticle on the two technicals but that just meant they were identified. It told him where to fly. In the backseat, the WSO selected the first one and shouted it out, "Target one selected."

"Fox Two!" LTJG Morris shouted as he pushed the thumb trigger. The Escape flew off of the rail and its motor ignited, sending it towards the target below. "Next target!" It was ready before he finished saying it, "Fox Two again," he was now out of ordinance save for the bullets in his gun. Pulling up and out of the dive at 14,000 feet, he headed out towards the coastline while the missiles slammed into their targets. The older, all-aspect missiles might have had trouble but the IIR seekers on the Escapes allowed them to track much better. The two technicals burst into flames upon impact and the once dark cement factor was now illuminated by the burning tanks, anti-aircraft guns, technicals, and fixed MG positions, leaving it defenseless.

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December 24, 2014 - 21:35 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

The explosions all around the cement factory's perimeter got everyone's attention, especially Malouf and his Al-Shams guest, Qureshi. Both quickly ran outside to look and what they saw before them was an annihilated Dushka position. Turning to Qureshi, Malouf spoke in Arabic, "Is it Cham? Commandos perhaps?"

"No," Qureshi shook his head, looking at the crater. He could see the burning T-62s to his right and his left, the decimated technical lying in shreds from the SDB II that slammed into it. "This is an airstrike and Cham does not have planes or helicopters."

"The Libyans!" Malouf barked just as the outlines of incoming aircraft became visible in the darkness. "Look!" He pointed, "The Libyans have send commandos next."

"You're wrong again," Qureshi said after glancing in the direction of the incoming Ospreys. "Those aren't Libyans. Those are Layartebians! They've found us and they're coming for us; well, they're coming for me. Quick we have to get inside," and inside they darted. The intel was partly right as to where they called their home but it was wholly wrong about the defenses, as evidenced by the T-62s that had been neutralized. "Call in your garrison at the hospital, have them converge on this location but not directly! They must hit from all sides. The Layartebians will have commandos coming in helicopters. Those aircraft coming are called Ospreys and they carry Marines. The Marines will set up a perimeter." Despite the speed with which they were running, Qureshi found it easy to both think and give orders. "The perimeter must be attacked and destroyed; the commandos we will deal with in here, my men will deal with them. They will give us breathing room. If we attack the perimeter forces we can cause them to collapse and the Layartebians will be pinned down and we can slaughter them."

"My men are no match for the Layartebian Marines," said Malouf when they finally reached the map table. "The Layartebians will cut us down. They will have air support, gunships, helicopters, fighters. Look what they've done outside in thirty seconds. Maybe less, I wasn't counting. It could have been fifteen, ten even!"

"The Marines will be in fixed positions. They are infantrymen and they won't have armor. Use the heavy weaponry and the machine guns to pin them down and use the rest of the men to move up and flank them. Shoot your RPGs into their formations and attack them with your AKs. They will go down and then the Layartebians will be stuck. We must render the men on the perimeter combat ineffective."

"Can we shoot down a helicopter?"

"Do you have weapons here?"

"Just RPGs."

"Don't waste them," Qureshi shook his head. "They won't be around long enough to engage. Save them to shoot at the infantry, they will cause heavy casualties. I have seen the effects; they are fragmentary weapons, very deadly. Our brothers in Persia used them effectively against the Layartebians there and wounded many with just one rocket."

"What about escape?"

"Not yet," Qureshi said. "No, not yet, we must plan for it and not do it hastily otherwise we're liable to run into a trap." Of course this was not something the Layartebians could know. They never saw the two men emerge and look at the burning rubble around the cement factory and if they had it wouldn't have made a difference.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 24, 2014 - 21:40 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

Qureshi and Malouf had spent all of thirty seconds looking down at their maps trying to ascertain the best way to fight off the Layartebian Marines holding blocking positions all around their perimeter when one of the lookouts yelled that "commando helicopters" - in this case SEALS - were approaching the perimeter of the factory. Both men looked at each other, shocked that they didn't expect a commando raid and aggravated that they'd wasted time and not positioned men to shoot down the helicopters with RPGs. "Now it is time for us to leave," Qureshi yelled over the growing din of battle. "Take the maps and have your men destroy these radios. I'll have my men hold them off for as long as possible."

"We'll use the tunnel."

"It's cowardly."

"I'm not going to sit here and die like a dog," Malouf yelled, "and neither should you! We must live to fight again. If Allah wanted us to die we wouldn't have a tunnel." The logic, while course, seemed irrefutable to Qureshi and he nodded in agreement. Orders were given, yelled above the noise of the Seahawk helicopters departing from the battle area.

Less than two minutes later, both men were scurrying down the tunnel, which had been expertly dug by Malouf's men - then Safar's - in the months preceding this fight. Safar had called the cement factory his HQ and Malouf saw no reason transplanting it somewhere else. The tunnel was approximately eleven hundred meters long and it was supported by wooden beams and netting. The tunnel resembled that which smugglers used throughout Mexico and South America, particularly Mato Grosso. However where it differed was at various points spaced every one hundred meters or so, each of them marked by subtle objects that only the builders would know to look for and each of these spots signified a booby-trap. It was up to Malouf to arm them as he escaped down the tunnel and methodically he did. Most of them were linked to tripwires but some were sequential. All of them were explosive in nature. Some were simple anti-personnel mines or fragmentation grenades while others were demolitions charges designed to cause a cave in around the area, trapping those in pursuit.

Outside, unaware of these happenings, the four SEAL squads landed in the midst of chaos and confusion. Without anyone actually directing the men they fired wildly and inaccurately, exposing their positions, which were quickly suppressed by the door gunners in each helicopter. Two of the four Knighthawks were fitted with the M134 Minigun while the other two were fitted with the M35A5 Light Machine Gun, while the former could bark up to six thousand rounds per minute, the latter was much more accurate. Leveraging the two weapons, gunners with the Miniguns used them to suppress hostile positions while gunners with the M35s actually targeted individual hostiles. For the SEALS, the brass raining down on top of them from the Knighthawks, while an inconvenience was a major comfort.

When Sapp hit the ground with his squad they immediately came under inaccurate but heavy fire from several of Malouf's men. Unlike the Al-Shams terrorists, Malouf's militiamen didn't shoulder their weapons or aim; they poured bullets in the direction of their target. Sapp, the trained veteran that he was, moved for cover and fired accurate shots at both men, striking them in their heads with kill shots. Accounting for his men, he called for covering fire as he took the lead element of the squad towards the target building. The return fire on Malouf's men was deadly and effective. A SEAL squad consisted of eight men who knew how to use their firearms. Two men carried squad automatic weapons or light machine guns, depending on the situation, one carried a sniper rifle effective out to half a mile or more, and the rest carried assault rifles or carbines with underbarrel grenade launchers. The two SAW gunners and the sniper along with one rifleman-grenadier would provide covering fire while LT Sapp and three other rifleman-grenadiers advanced with the help of night vision goggles.

From their insertion position it was one hundred and twenty meters, give or take five meters, to the door of the target building. With the help of covering fire, Sapp and his lead element advanced forty meters quickly and took shelter behind a stack of steel drums filled with old, powdered concrete mix. Excellent for absorbing bullets, they were about to advance a further twenty-five meters to a large dirt and sand pile when Qureshi's Al-Shams terrorists weighed into the fight, shooting from behind concealment and prepared firing positions. Armed with more than just Kalashnikovs, they provided extra suppressive fire on the SEALS but dared not expose themselves. It was here that the grenade launchers on the SEALS' weapons became handy. The low-velocity rounds were fired with great effect against the prepared positions, detonating around them where their deadly fragments could pierce through the soft flesh of the terrorists. A salvo of four rounds neutralized the first firing position and effectively suppressed a second, enabling Sapp to advance to the dirt mound, halfway to the door.

The dirt mound would help with some of the incoming rounds but it wouldn't last forever and when the first RPG smacked into the dirt mound it wiped out half of it in a single explosion. Aware that it wasn't going to hold for long, Sapp called for the extra firepower of the Knighthawks, which were still orbiting the area at 200 feet. Coming in on a gun run, the first Knighthawk let loose a long stream of gunfire from its starboard-side Minigun while the second came on an intercepting run firing from its port-side Minigun. This effectively neutralized the second firing position allowing Sapp and his lead element to advance thirteen meters around to the side of the dirt pile where they could provide some covering fire for themselves as they prepared to cross to the door.

The backup element of the squad would advance while he did, bringing the heavier guns up towards the dirt pile and the stacked drums while the sniper and the other rifleman-grenadier advanced to a separate position taking cover behind a stack of cinderblocks. For the SEALS, it was all about getting whatever cover they could. Hostiles, whether they were Malouf's militiamen or Qureshi's terrorists were situated both at ground level and on elevated positions, pouring fire onto the SEALS from almost every direction. Recognizing that he'd been on the ground longer than anticipated, Sapp called for a radio check of the other three squads and found that things were slow for everyone though no one was a casualty just yet. Second Squad was still fifty meters from their target and almost pinned down, Third Squad wasn't pinned down but they were running into stiff resistance, and Fourth Squad was moving through the buildings, taking them one at a time with four men assaulting and four men covering. So far some SEALS had taken shrapnel or ricochets but everyone was mobile and in the fight. They estimated twenty hostiles killed so far at that point.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 24, 2014 - 21:50 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Lima Station
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

"Six-Oh-Eight, call the ball."

"Six-Oh-Eight, Viper ball, three-point-zero."

"Roger ball, you're a little low," came the voice of the landing signal officer as LTJG Morris fast approached the blacked out carrier in the middle of the night. It would come up fast now and he listened to the LSO guide him into landing, correcting left at last second and catching the two wire as the F-58D Viper was yanked to a halt by the arrestor cables. "Welcome back Six-Oh-Eight clear for taxi."

"Roger thanks."

"CAG wants to talk to you when you get out, don't wander off Six-Oh-Eight."

"Aye aye," LTJG Morris wondered what the CAG would want from him. A few minutes later he found out as the CAG ushered him into the island and down to a debriefing room. A few men were gathered - not many - and his squadron command element was there. "What's the skinny Boss?"

"We've got some congratulations for you in neutralizing your targets alone and some bad news."

"What's the bad news?" ENS Taylor asked.

"Intel is picking up heavy movement of hostile foot mobiles towards the target site. We're going to need everyone who can fly to be in the skies. We might be running CAS all night long on this one. Air force has a gunship orbiting and the attack helis are over the target now but we know these bastards have MANPADs so fast movers are going to be the survivable option here. Get yourself a piss break, stretch, and you're going back up on the next salvo in Six-Oh-Nine. You good for it?" The CAG asked, stressing that these were the only two pilots who'd actually seen action over Cyrenaica yet.

"We're good Boss," LTJG Morris said with a smile. "Might need a little more than five shakes though, dinner's sitting heavy in my stomach."

"Get it handled, you're up in forty-five."

"Thanks Boss."

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 24, 2014 - 21:50 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

"Clear!" Came the shout and Sapp rose up from his covered position, reloading his rifle. They'd just stormed and cleared the command center in a matter of thirty seconds with Sapp making the breach and everyone coming in behind him firing.

"Looks like they've been busy," he commented after looking at the smashed radios and the burning pile of maps. There was still plenty of intel to gather but it was a fraction of what had been there only ten minutes earlier. "I don't see Qureshi."

"We've got a stairwell," shouted the squad's point man and with that, the four of them descended down the stairwell, taking each step slowly to avoid alerting any hostile forces waiting to ambush them. There was no one there though and they moved into the basement and quickly saw the tunnel.

"Birddog, this is Stackhouse, we've got a tunnel here leading east it appears."

"Roger that Stackhouse, have you located the primary objective?"

"Negative, believe he went down this tunnel. Permission to pursue?"

"Permission approved Stackhouse."

Sapp looked at his point man and nodded, "Beware of booby traps. Alpha Two, secure the command post and conduct SSE."

"Roger that Alpha One, good luck down there."

"Thanks Alpha Two," Sapp gave the final nod and off they went, walking slowly down the tunnel. The squad's point man moved slowly and all four of them scanned the floor, the ceiling, and the walls with their eyes. The first booby trap was thus spotted ten meters before they came to it and disarmed easily. First they snipped the tripwire and secondly they removed the two grenades from the walls and added them to their inventory. Further down the tunnel they found the second one, an antipersonnel mine that they disarmed and left in place.

Outside, the Marines had yet to report any contact but that was going to change shortly. With the exception of Fourth Squad, the other two squads had stormed and cleared their targets. Fourth Squad was now pinned down in a serious firefight with several Al-Shams terrorists who were using cover effectively. A few SEALS between Second and Third Squad had taken grazing wounds or shrapnel but they were still in the fight. Fourth Squad was taking a bit of a beating but backup was on the way in the form of a gun run from one of the Knighthawks and help from Second Squad who was rushing to their aid. First Squad was out of radio communication now that they were in the tunnel.

By the fourth booby trap, the men realized that there was a trap once every one hundred meters, which enabled them to move at a quicker pace. What they didn't count on was the next booby trap, the one that Malouf was particularly proud of setting. The point man quickly defused the first booby trap, another anti-personnel mine and they continued onward. Thirty meters later, unknowingly, he stepped onto a carefully concealed pressure plate beneath the dirt. The effect was immediate and four demolition charges blew ten meters to their rear and ten meters to their front. The charges were small but Semtex 1A is still a powerful high-explosive and the four charges effected the kind of cave-in that Malouf had envisioned when he had his men plant them weeks earlier. Sapp and his lead team were now trapped and to add to the problem, they were out of radio contact. There would be no getting Qureshi or Malouf now since the tunnel was effectively blocked and the SEALS had no idea where it exited to position themselves to stop Qureshi or Malouf. With the explosion and the cave-in, the mission was effectively a failure.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 24, 2014 - 22:05 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Tango Station
(32° 13' 34" N, 19° 3' 24" E)

"Can you repeat that Alpha Two?" LCDR Wilson said just moments after telling everyone to shut their mouths. Immediately, the chatter died around the operations center.

"Sir, Alpha One is trapped behind a wall of rock in the tunnel. We've got to dig them out sir."

"Fuck!" LCDR Wilson cursed aloud, "Charlie One, Charlie One, where are you?"

"Charlie One is on target Birddog."

"Get over to Alpha Two and give them a hand."

"Roger that we're on the way."

"Delta One, SITREP?"

"Birddog, a little hard to talk right now we're pinned down by these guys."

"Casualties?"

"Negative Birddog." This was a lie but LCDR Wilson didn't know it yet. One of Delta Squad's men had died only ninety seconds earlier when an Al-Shams terrorist launched an RPG-7 right into his position. His body effectively shielded the rest of the SEALS from the blast and shrapnel but that wasn't going to make it any easier to bear.

"Break out Delta One, Alpha One is trapped and we're a mission failure. We need to exfil soon."

"We could use some heavier air support then."

"We'll get back to you Delta One," LCDR Wilson looked across the room and the sailor he eyed knew precisely what to do. Tango Station's air wing was mostly transport helicopters and Ospreys but it wasn't without teeth, which came in the form of fourteen AH-104A Huron attack helicopters and twelve AV-8E Harrier II attack fighters. Hurons had escorted the Marines to the target and they were still on station. Being directed to help the SEALS, the four Hurons over Benghazi would be able to levy a significant amount of firepower. Each one took off with a full load of 920 rounds of 27-millimeter ammunition, eight Brimstone anti-tank guided missiles, and two 19-round CRV7 rocket launchers.

On the flight deck of the ILNS Nótt (LHA-34), a pair of AV-8E Harrier IIs were on standby, ready to take off on a moment's notice and that notice came now with LCDR Wilson's call. The two attack fighters were armed with 480 rounds of 27-millimeter ammunition for their guns, a Sniper XR pod for target designation, a pair of fuel tanks, two Brimstone anti-tank guided missiles on their air-to-air hardpoints, a pair of 500-lb Paveway II bombs, and six more Brimstones on their outermost pylons. This was a sizeable amount of firepower for the two aircraft and they took off within five minutes of getting the call, roaring down the flight deck and lifting into the night skies after utilizing the aircraft's ski jump.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 24, 2014 - 22:15 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
AC-42B Atlas Hammer "Atlas 32"
(32° 3' 0" N, 20° 6' 33" E)

The choice to deploy an AC-42B Atlas Hammer gunship over Benghazi was a wise one but a risky one. The AC-42 was particularly vulnerable to ground fire since its attack profile required it to orbit in a pylon turn at an altitude of roughly 10,000 feet. By varying the speed during the turn, the pilot could mislead the radars of anti-aircraft guns but the aircraft could do little to dissuade the launch of surface-to-air missiles. For those threats it carried a powerful jamming system, a copious amount of chaff and flares, and it had the ability to target the threatening platform provided it was within range of the aircraft's weapons and weapons were what the AC-42 boasted better than anything.

The main armament of the AC-42B consisted of four port-facing, slewable cannons. There was a pair of GAU-23/B Vulcan II 27-millimeter Gatling guns, each with 1,800 rounds of ammunition. These could be set to varying fire rates but the most popular was 4,500 rpm. Because of the small nature of the bullet, these could be used very close to friendly positions. For medium firepower, the aircraft carried a single GAU-28/A Swiftkill 45-millimeter autocannon with a rate of fire of 1,000 rpm and 715 rounds. The punch of the Swiftkill was unmistakable on the ground and it could be used to annihilate vehicles in a single shot or level small structures with a salvo. For the heaviest firepower, the AC-42 sported an M361A1 Lightweight Automatic Gun Mortar. It fired a small, 60-millimeter mortar shell but at a rate of fire of 85 rpm. The AC-42's predecessor, the AC-130 carried a 105-millimeter howitzer for this level of firepower and a 120-millimeter mortar was planned. However, neither pack the accuracy or punch of the M361's salvo, which can destroy everything but hardened structures. For ammunition, the M361 fed from a 1,500-round magazine.

When guns weren't enough, the gunship could levy guided missiles or bombs. It had four external hardpoints with a capacity of 6,600 pounds of ordinance. Normally the AC-42 carried lightweight missiles so that it did not utilize its full capacity. The AC-42 flying over Benghazi this evening carried six Brimstone missiles and two 500-lb Paveway II guided bombs.

Orbiting at 15,000 feet, the gunship wasn't flying an attack profile just yet. It was flying in an overwatch capacity, using its powerful thermal sensors and night vision cameras to watch the perimeter of the battlefield. Until now, there hadn't been a threat worth of the AC-42's attention but all of that was about to change as the offensive systems operator pressed the transmit button on his microphone. "Foxhound, this is Atlas Three-Two, we've got something for your attention."

A moment later the battalion commander for the Marines, Lieutenant Colonel Harris responded, "Atlas Three-Two, Foxhound, what's coming our way?"

"We've got a force assembling five klicks to your north. We've got eight technicals so far and over fifty foot mobiles."

"That's sizeable Atlas Three-Two, keep an eye on them. If they start heading south they're our problem to deal with, alert me if they get oscar-mike."

"Ten-four Foxhound," the OSO answered as he zoomed in on the thermal camera. "Lot of baddies down there," he said to himself as he took another count. More personnel were emerging from the hospital; and with the high resolution of the EO/IR sensor, he could see that they were armed. "Captain, I'm thinking it's time we get command on the horn and see about getting permission to engage." He said next over the aircraft's intercom. Aboard the gunship there were four officers, four warrant officers, and six enlisted men. The pilot, co-pilot, and defensive and offensive systems operators were all officers, the four gunners were warrant officers, and the six loaders were all enlisted men. No one did anything without the pilot's say-so and regardless of his rank, he was known as "Captain" to the crew members.

"Roger that, I'll run it up the chain but I doubt we're going to get permission unless they make a detour south to the marines." Such was the rules of engagement on this operation. The Layartebians were concerned with the cement factory and its immediate perimeter. They weren't there to fight Malouf's forces on behalf of Cham. At five kilometers, the force - no matter how large it was - constituted no threat to the marines or the SEALS. If they drove southward on the other hand, they were a threat. For all the gunship crewmen knew, this force was preparing to move out to open up another front on Cham. The gunship needed more than just their size, position, and composition to attack them.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 24, 2014 - 22:15 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

On the ground where Fourth Squad had become bogged down, the situation was all but calm. Fourth Squad was in a bad position, pinned down with Al-Shams terrorists in advantageous and elevated firing positions. They poured 7.62x39mm Russian ammunition on them and fired RPG-7s like they grew on trees. The SEALS had sustained one fatality already and in the fifteen minutes since they made their radio call for air support, two other SEALS had become critically wounded. An attempt by Second Squad to flank the position resulted in them getting pinned down just the same though a gun run by a pair of AH-104s managed to get them out of their initial spot only to get to where Fourth Squad was and join in the heavy firefight there.

Now extra firepower was available for tasking. The two AV-8E Harrier IIs were in the air and tracking the firefight. All the pilots of the Harriers needed was a target and they would drop their weapons on command. Using a laser designator, LTJG Tom Bearden - or Delta One - exposed himself and designated the target building where Al-Shams was holed up and effectively keeping them pinned down. In doing so, he caught three rounds, two of which were stopped by his body armor. The third tore through his shoulder and denied him the use of his left arm. He'd been exposed for barely five seconds but that was long enough to get wounded and long enough for the Harrier pilots to get their target.

Dragging LTJG Bearden out of harm's way, LTJG Sam Henslee - or Bravo One - quickly began first aid on his stricken comrade while the AV-8Es flying high above prepared for an attack run. The initial attack would fall to the lead pilot and he selected one of his Paveway II bombs, acquired the target with the aircraft's own Sniper XR pod, and released the bomb. Thirty seconds later, it tore through the roof of the sand-colored building and exploded with devastating effect, destroying the structure and incinerating the resistance within it. Unfortunately, that didn't end the firefight and a second attack was made on an adjacent building with another Paveway II, also from the lead pilot's aircraft. Lightening his load, he was able to strike the target again and incinerate the resistance within the building. Al-Shams terrorists on the outside were still fighting but the biggest advantage they had was now gone, wiped free by a pair of bombs designed in the 1970s.

This enabled LTJG Henslee to direct his men to evacuate the wounded to position India, the nearest Marine position where a rifle platoon was holding watch on the northern sector. The platoon there was under the command of First Lieutenant Ken Woodard and 1LT Woodard hadn't seen combat before. When the SEALS arrived in his perimeter, bleeding and in bad shape, it took him a minute to compose himself enough to make the call for a medevac. The call went up the chain of command rapidly and LCDR Wilson, responsible for his SEALS, didn't wait for the admirals and generals to debate it, he made the call for them.

An MH-60S Knighthawk, equipped with machine guns rather than Gatling guns, maneuvered off of its orbit to make the pickup while one of the Gatling gun equipped Knighthawks provided cover. The Hurons moved into a cover position and the Harrier IIs took up an orbit around the position as well. All efforts were focused on the safe extraction of the Knighthawk with its critically wounded SEALS. There wasn't time to bring in another helicopter and given the lack of resistance outside of the cement factory, it was the call to make.

Everyone held their breath as the MH-60S flared for landing and touched down just outside of the perimeter. The marines expanded their positions to provide 360° cover while they and the able-bodied SEALS loaded the three critically wounded and the one fatality aboard the Knighthawk. It was only then when LCDR Wilson learned that one of his men had fallen in the heat of battle. A hardening of his emotions quickly set in as the Knighthawk lifted off of the ground and reported a safe evacuation. Flares dumped from its canisters as it climbed off of the deck and increased speed towards the coastline, breaking over it in less than four minutes. They were harrowing but successful and the Knighthawk, along in its sortie, raced towards Tango Station at 145 knots, its maximum speed. For the wounded, it would be the longest twenty-three minutes of their lives.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 24, 2014 - 15:30 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

Seven hours behind in Layarteb City, the Emperor was called to the War Room from his office by Chairman-General Barnes, who was present to help oversee Operation BRONZE PALADIN from the Fortress of Comhghall's command center. Buried deep underneath the bedrock of Upper New York Bay, the War Room was the most high-tech room in the entire castle complex. It featured multiple plasma televisions for an array of situational awareness, secure communications links, high-speed network links to the DefenseNet, and enough seating space for an entire staff of war planners. It was accessible by only one elevator and one staircase and that elevator and staircase was, at all times, guarded by armed soldiers with orders to shoot first and ignore questions later.

The Emperor passed by them with a salute and found himself in the bunker seconds later. "Chairman-General, I take it this is not a call for success?"

"Sir I'm afraid not," Chairman-General Barnes answered in his gruff tone. Staffers around him hushed as they dared not disturb the highest ranking military officer in the country and their leader. "Four SEALS are trapped in an underground tunnel and Qureshi and Malouf have escaped. They were trapped by a booby-trap device while in pursuit of the targets. They're okay but behind a wall of rock and dirt. The SEALS are digging them out right now with shovels and their bare hands but it's going to take some time. In addition sir, Malouf's men put up significant resistance at this cluster of buildings here," he pointed to the spot on the map where Fourth Squad had been pinned down by Al-Shams. "We have on KIA and three WIA en route to the hospital now. This location isn't yet secure but we've dropped bombs on these structures here and neutralized the biggest form of resistance that Malouf's men had. We have attack helicopters and Harriers on station providing additional assistance to the SEALS so that they can sweep this area sir."

"Any chance Qureshi is in there?"

"Unlikely sir; the SEALS in pursuit said they were in an elaborate and well-built tunnel. It's likely wherever it led it is outside of the perimeter of the cement factory. By the time we were able to get eyes on the ground and the area it was already minutes after the cave-in and our men were some time behind Qureshi and Malouf. I'm afraid this is a failure sir."

"Any other resistance?"

"Not yet sir but Atlas 3-2, the gunship on station, reported a sizeable infantry force with technical support gathering at a hospital five klicks to the north. That's here sir."

"What's the ROE?"

"Unless they move towards the target area they're not our concern. Atlas 3-2 is watching them like a hawk sir."

"Well Chairman-General, this isn't how I wanted to spend my Christmas but this was a longshot wasn't it?"

"The odds were fifty-fifty sir. Had it not been Qureshi we wouldn't have launched the raid."

"Keep me informed then, I have a meeting in twenty minutes but it shouldn't last very long. If it's urgent have my receptionist break into the meeting."

"Yes sir."

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 24, 2014 - 23:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

The SEALS had split themselves up into two groups now. The four SEALS of Alpha Squad not trapped were working with six SEALS from Charlie Squad on digging out the four trapped SEALS. That left just LT Sean Lombardo - or Charlie One - and his radio man, PO2 James Copeland above ground. Bravo Squad detached four men to do SSE on the HQ while the other four men under the direction of LTJG Bearden were working with the remnants of Delta Squad in clearing the last buildings and searching for any valuable intelligence. Around the perimeter of the cement factory, the Marines were still holding in place but the quiet stillness of the neighborhood was making them all uneasy, especially as reports filtered down that the force assembling at the hospital was still only just lingering there, where they couldn't be engaged by the Atlas gunship orbiting safely overhead.

"Charlie One, Charlie One, Birddog, what's the SITREP down there?"

"Still digging them out Birddog, there's a lot of dirt and rocks between us and them. I've got ten men on it now."

"Roger that Charlie One, keep at it," LCDR Wilson cut off, which only further irritated LT Lombardo who looked to his radioman and shook his head.

"He's called every five minutes since we got over here. We'll get them out when we get them out. Go down there and find out how long we're looking. Maybe if we get something concrete he'll stop bothering us."

"On it boss," Copeland said before disappearing down the stairs and into the basement where the grunts of the SEALS working in the tunnel echoed in the quiet, cavernous space. When he emerged a few minutes later he just shook his head, "They're going at breakneck speed. We might have to put more guys on it."

"Can you get me the Marines?"

"I've got the 'freq' yeah," Copeland made some adjustments to his radio and handed over the handset. "Should be good now sir."

"Foxhound, Foxhound, this is Charlie One, you copy me?"

"Roger that Charlie One, Foxhound copies," LTC Harris answered after a minute. "What's the SITREP there?"

"Not looking great Foxhound, can you give us some bodies?"

"How many do you need Charlie One?"

"Five, six, what can you give me?"

"I'll get some men over there on the double. Foxhound out."

Lombardo handed back the handset and looked around the HQ. "Do we have it all now?"

"I think we do," answered one of the SEALS holding a large trash bag full of papers. "They burned a lot of it though and smashed the radios so we don't have that but we've still got fragments and scraps. We put all of the ashes in a bag, maybe intel can work with it, otherwise we just dump it. It's not taking up space."

"All right well if you're done here go give them a hand downstairs but stay in radio range. If something happens I need you guys up here on the double."

"You got it boss," and with that the four SEALS ran down into the basement. They'd picked up on the SSE where other men had left off and in the time that they'd been there they had collected everything that wasn't nailed down. The radios were smashed and they couldn't take them with them - or so they thought. Intel would make a call eventually and say to throw them into a bag just in case anything could be salvaged. Malouf's HQ was a lot more sophisticated than the SEALS had expected although compared to any HQ that the Layartebian military established, it was pretty pathetic. Still, Malouf's HQ fit his military and he had been rather effective thus far in managing his troops though until now he wasn't facing the kind of threat that could surmount his troops in a heartbeat.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 24, 2014 - 23:15 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Wadi al Qattarah Army Base
(31° 59' 15" N, 20° 11' 55" E)

Six klicks east-southeast of the cement factory was the Wadi al Qattarah Army Base and just adjacent to it a large warehouse that Malouf and Qureshi had finally reached after taking an exceptionally long and meandering drive. The warehouse was mostly filled with crates of ammunition, weaponry, and other supplies but in the back was a small room that served as a makeshift, secondary headquarters. There were maps, radios, and all of the amenities that Malouf's main HQ had but it was smaller and much more cramped with a dozen men inside of it. Speaking in Arabic, he ordered his men to give him a report on the Layartebian positions around the cement factory and to his pleasure they were still the same as they had been when the assault first began.

Pulling Qureshi aside into an adjacent room with a small map, Malouf looked at the Al-Shams terrorist and said, "The time to strike them is now."

"I concur," Qureshi answered as he looked at the map. "Your men at the hospital, are they ready?"

"They are. They're just awaiting my order."

"If they move directly against the Layartebians they will be slaughtered. Have them split up into several groups. Have them move out to the north first, away from the Layartebians. If the Layartebians have drones they will be watching the movement. If the vehicles head away they might not focus on them too much. Then they can double back, head out to the west and the east and come south to attack the flanks.

"The men can use the mosque and the cemetery to the west and they can use the buildings to the east. Utilize small squads of men to strike the south and the north, to keep Layartebian attention on all four sides. If you strike in force on the east and the west but ignore the north and the south they will reposition their men and crush your forces. Bring down your air defense soldiers with their rockets. When the Layartebians bring in air support they will bring in attack helicopters that can be shot down. The planes are too difficult, they fly high and it would be a waste of a missile."

"It is done then. We need more of a distraction though. I am going to order my men on the northern flank to start hitting Chaim's positions with mortars. The Layartebians will pick up on it and believe we're mounting an attack."

"Good, the diversion will work," Qureshi answered, shaking his head. He looked down at the map, noted the positions in his head. "I doubt I have any men left on the ground there."

"They served the cause well."

"So they did," Qureshi agreed. "It was just Allah's will that they die there and no where else. They're martyrs for what we're trying to achieve. Their families will be compensated."

"Can you bring more men up?"

"It will have to be done. I'll make the call soon."

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December 24, 2014 - 23:30 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
AC-42B Atlas Hammer "Atlas 32"
(32° 3' 0" N, 20° 6' 33" E)

"Orion, Orion, this is Atlas Three-Two, are you seeing this?"

"Roger that Atlas Three-Two, we're seeing it. Chatter just increased along the front. We think Malouf's men are launching a surprise assault on Chaim's defensive positions. We're seeing mortar and light artillery fire near the airport and near the northern defensive line."

"Think it's a ruse?"

"Uncertain Atlas Three-Two, monitor the situation," Orion was the callsign for the overall commander. Orion's response was misleading though. Thanks to an orbiting MC-12X Guardrail X belonging to the 8th Special Operations Group - known as the "Spiders" - Orion knew that the 200-man assault force was going to attack the Marine positions. "Guardrail X" was simply the name of the intelligence-gathering package installed in a Super King Air 350. Orbiting at 32,000 feet over Benghazi, the Guardrail X package scooped up every non-encrypted battlefield communication within its reach and since Malouf, Chaim, and everyone else on the battlefield save for the Layartebians spoke on unencrypted channels, the Guardrail X package picked them up without effort. For §50 million per airframe, the Layartebian Defense Corporation was fitting the Guardrail X package to the entire fleet of AC-42B Atlas "Hammer" gunships but it would take until 2020 before the Block 10 upgrade to the AC-42B was completed. This aircraft obviously didn't have it yet.

Back at JSOC's headquarters in Fort Bragg, buried deep underground, commanders were monitoring those communications intercepts real time with native, Arabic speakers translating them. Neither Malouf nor Qureshi's voice had come on the air, a big disappointment for the JSOC team but they knew that the two were calling the shots. The single Guardrail X couldn't pinpoint their precise location except that it was east-southeast of the cement factory within a ten kilometers radius. If they flew lower they would get a better trace but the best they could do was orbit the area to the east-southeast in hopes of getting a better idea; however, without triangulation it was difficult to get an accurate enough location to launch another assault or an airstrike. The operators in the MC-12X believed correctly that it was coming from the old, abandoned army base but they couldn't be sure which building and to call in an airstrike on the entire base wasn't going to happen, not with how the ROE had been established.

Diligence was one of the qualities of the men in the AC-42B and when Orion told them to keep watch they did. The sensors on the airborne gunship tracked and followed the technicals, trucks, and the men north and then watched as they peeled out and began to backtrack. When it was clear they were going south, Atlas Three-Two requested permission to engage but since there were two groups they could only engage one at a time. Orion wanted to wait just a little longer though.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 25, 2014 - 00:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
AC-42B Atlas Hammer "Atlas 32"
(32° 1' 54" N, 20° 5' 48" E)

"Orion, Atlas Three-Two, we're seeing the main force moving south now on Andalus, approximate position is five klicks from Alpha."

"Roger that we're seeing it too Atlas Three-Two; due to potential for civilian casualties you are authorized to open fire only when they are within one klick of friendly forces. We suspect they'll come from the west. Engage with light weaponry only Atlas Three-Two, we don't want to level the surrounding neighborhoods."

"Roger that Orion," the Atlas' OSO answered, shaking his head in frustration. They could take out the entire force now and avoid even the possibility of them getting within one klick of friendly forces but command was very conscious of collateral damage on this op. It was probably, the OSO assumed, a political decision. Perhaps, he thought, the government intended to work with Chaim and they didn't want to anger him or the entire Benghazi populace in the process. Whatever they were plotting, the OSO knew it would lead to friendly casualties.

"Foxhound, Atlas Three-Two, we've got a mobile force five kicks to your west moving south with the likelihood of their destination being your position."

"Understood Atlas Three-Two, are you cleared to engage?"

"When they're within one klick we are. We're monitoring the situation. We'll open fire the moment we can."

"Thanks for the assist Atlas Three-Two, keep us apprised." On the ground LTC Harris was uncomfortable with the idea of a mobilized force moving on him that couldn't be engaged as far out as possible. The likelihood of them coming to assault him was always present, from the moment they touched the ground but now it was fully realized. Having an AC-42 on standby overhead was a big confidence booster but even they couldn't see everything and it would be evident soon enough. The main force had departed northwards from the hospital and they were tracked. A secondary force had moved out from the hospital a few minutes later, rightly guessing that the main force would be picked up by ISR assets. No one paid attention to the secondary force since they didn't communicate on open channels. The plan was worked out by the on-scene commander, who went with the secondary rather than the primary force.

This secondary force was purely infantry and they moved on foot initially. They headed east and then south where, at a mosque, they picked up a number of vehicles, all of them battered and in poor shape. Belching exhaust, the vehicle convoy with its one hundred or so men moved southward along what was listed on the map as Philadelphia St. They would turn westward on the main thoroughfare that ran north of the cement factory, a position forty-two hundred meters from the Echo Position. Sixteen hundred meters, or one mile, east of that position they would pull off the road and dismount, walking to positions along the Marines' eastern flank. Once they were in position, the attack would begin and they weren't quite there yet. They still had about ten minutes of walking while the vehicle still had about ten minutes of driving.

The plan would see the main force split into two groups, with the primary group moving to engage the Marines from the mosque and the cemetery, drawing an impressive amount of fire from the Marines. The other half would speed southward for another thirteen or so kilometers and then turn eastward and then northward to attack from the southern flank. It was this element that led the main force, which would serve only to confuse the gunship that was orbiting overhead. Malouf and Qureshi hadn't accounted for it in their plan and none of the on-scene commanders did either. They assumed their main opposition would come from attack helicopters and fighter jets. The former they could hear and the latter they just assumed to be there. Their plan was difficult from the get-go but it would have had a much better chance of total success without the presence of the gunship. Even still, they intended to inflict a significant number of casualties in order to avenge their brothers at the cement factory.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 25, 2014 - 00:05 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

"All Marine positions, all Marine positions, this is Foxhound, listen up now!" LTC Harris said over the channel to every one of his Marine positions. The SEALS in the cement factory would overhear it as well. "We have a sizeable, motorized force approaching from the west. Another part of the force is heading south and we assume they're going to hit us from the southern flank. Atlas Three-Two overhead will be engaging the main force once they get within one thousand meters of our position, in an estimated five minutes. Stay on your guard and report all penetrations and contact positions. We have attack helicopters on standby and fighters for close air support. When you need air support, you call it in immediately. That's all and Merry Christmas boys! Let's hope Santa's on our side." He signed off and looked at the tense faces of the men around him, "Cheer up! Santa doesn't have many houses to stop at here." He tried to keep an upbeat attitude but his heart was racing in his chest like a hummingbird. All it took was a handful of men to slip past the AC-42's firepower and they could kill many of his men.

LTC Harris turned to CPT Moody of Alpha Company and pulled him aside. "What can I do for you sir?"

"Can you get a rifle squad into the cemetery? I want eyes on that mosque."

"Yes sir, I'll get them off now."

"Tell them to hurry."

"Yes sir," and in rapid fashion, CPT Moody ran off to his 1st Platoon commander to get a squad out to the cemetery. Harris' thinking, which Moody correctly judged, was that once the gunship hit, the men inside would scatter like crazy and probably take refuge in the mosque and the cemetery, where they would regroup and attack. As he did, LTC Harris looked around at the cover they had. There wasn't much and his men were spread out around the traffic circle. His own HQ was a concrete block building on the northwestern side of the circle. It would be a hell of a battle if the enemy force got past the AC-42.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 25, 2014 - 00:20 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
AC-42B Atlas Hammer "Atlas 32"
(32° 1' 54" N, 20° 5' 48" E)

"Roger that, I confirm, we're cleared hot when the convoy breaches one thousand meters. That will be in about thirty seconds at their current rate of speed."

"Atlas Three-Two, Orion confirms what you're seeing, make sure you shoot straight, Orion out," and with that the Atlas Hammer gunship took on a slightly different orbit. The pilots had already brought the aircraft down to 10,000 feet - optimal altitude for this theater - and were lazily orbiting the area. Now, they assumed a constant, pylon turn to the port side, angling the aircraft so that the weapons now pointed easily at the ground and could train and elevate the gun barrels with a more optimal range of attack. Inside of the cabin, as the aircraft took on the banked turned, the crewmen adjusted their footing. Those sitting down would have to do little as their workstations, bolted to the floors, moved with them and the aircraft.

The OSO was in charge from this point onward. It was up to the pilot and the co-pilot to maintain the aircraft's turn, taking direction from him. In a line next to him were the three gunners, each seated at a panel and looking at the same infrared feed as the OSO saw. On the other side of the cabin was the defensive systems operator or DSO. He focused on the threat screens, which showed radar and laser warning receivers as well as the readout from the aircraft's missile approach warning system. The system itself could detect incoming surface-to-air missiles either by the infrared signature of their launch or by a pulse-Doppler radar. Chiefly, this system worked together rather than separately. The AN/AAR-52 would detected the missile launch and feed the information to the AN/AAR-59, which would then achieve ranging and speed information on the incoming missile. The primary threat to the AC-42 was the man-portable, surface-to-air missile or MANPAD.

The AC-42's crew had been briefed in to the presence of Igla-type MANPAD missiles within Malouf's forces and they were fully aware that the moment they started to light up the night with their gunfire, they would become the primary target. Thus far no pilots had reported any launches but that was also because no ground commanders - save for the SEALS - had reported contact with the enemy. This force moving to the cement factory now would be the first assault force and likely within their ranges would be men armed with MANPAD missiles. It would be up to the OSO, scanning the infrared to direct the gunners where to fire and in what capacity. He knew full well that it would be extremely difficult to spot a MANPAD team in the chaos and pandemonium once the first rounds impacted but in the back of his mind it would be a priority.

"Gunner 1, Gunner 2," this referred to the two GAU-23/B Vulcan II Gatling guns. Each gun was a 6-barrel, 27-millimeter gun that could fire at rates of up to 9,000 rounds per minute; however, for economy's sake they would be firing at only 3,600 rounds per minute. Even still, at this speed they could empty their 1,800-round magazines in just over thirty seconds. "Sweep front to rear and rear to front, respectively. Call copy."

"Gunner 1 copies, sweeping front to rear."

"Gunner 2 copies, sweeping rear to front."

"Gunner 3," this referred to the single GAU-28/A Swiftkill autocannon. This was a single-barrel, autocannon that fired a 45-millimeter shell. It could fire 1,000 rounds per minute at full power and its magazine contained 715 rounds. Like the 27-millimeter rounds, these were chiefly high-explosive, incendiary rounds. The 45-millimeter cannon was used when extra destructive force was required. "You will target and sweep front to rear five vehicles forward and then adjust and sweep rear to front five vehicles, call copy."

Gunner 3 copies, five vehicles in the front and five vehicles in the rear."

"Gunner 1, Gunner 2, you will engage after Gunner 3 completes sweep, call copy."

"Gunner 1 copies, will engage after Gunner 3."

"Gunner 2 copies, will engage after Gunner 3."

"Gunner 4," and at this, the OSO smiled. Gunner 4 was the most prestigious of positions in an AC-42B Atlas Hammer. It referred to the biggest weapon that the aircraft carried, a 60-millimeter, M361A1 Lightweight Automatic Gun Mortar. Once upon a time, this position had been fulfilled with a 105-millimeter howitzer with 102 rounds. This 60-millimeter mortar carried 1,500 rounds and it could fire 85 rounds per minute. Despite being a smaller round than the 105-millimeter shell, the ability to lay down a barrage of suppressive fire in rapid succession with a high degree of accuracy more than made up for the loss of single-shell firepower. In the amount of time it took the old howitzer to fire a single shell, reload, and fire another one, the M361A1 could lay down twenty-eight rounds, each mortar shell weighing just under four pounds with an explosive charge of just over a pound, amounting to nearly three and a half times the explosives of two, 105-millimeter rounds. "You will engage my laser spots, call copy."

"Gunner 4 copies, will engage only laser spots."

"All gunners, all gunners, hold fire, hold fire, Master is toggled to 'ARM,' you are cleared hot on my command in ten…niner…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one…cleared hot…"

With a long burp, the GAU-28/A Swiftkill autocannon barked to life. On the ground below, Marines suddenly saw the sky light up as the tracer rounds of the autocannon streaked downwards in long lines of red light. To those Marines who'd never been witness to an AC-42 gunship unleashing its fury upon an unaware enemy, it was a sight to behold. For now, they saw only light as the sound waves moved far slower than light did. When those waves would finally reach the Marines, it wouldn't be until after the rounds slammed home. The GAU-28/A's high-explosive, incendiary rounds left their muzzle at over 4,100 feet per second while sound, at best, traveled at only around 1,100 feet per second.

From his console, the OSO watched the thermal camera as rounds slammed into the first five vehicles, destroying each one of them. To conserve ammunition, Gunner 3 had only allocated three rounds per vehicle and three was more than enough. The unarmored technicals and pickup trucks were sliced through by the rounds as if they weren't even there. In each one, the fuel tanks exploded in violent balls of fire and churning smoke that lit up the scene all around. The gun's laser designator made firing a cinch for the gunner, who merely placed the laser on the target and pushed the firing button. Then he moved the laser and fired again and again and again until all five trucks in the front were destroyed. Before he could start firing on the rear trucks, Gunner 1 had already began to sweep his gun along the vehicles, destroying those behind the front trucks and taking out any men who fled their vehicles.

"Gunner 3, Gunner 1, Gunner 2, continue sweep and hold fire," the OSO called. He began to designate some vehicles equipped with heavy machine guns for the mortar to engage. It would take only seconds for the laser spot to target a vehicle, Gunner 4 to target and fire, and the next target to be selected. The methodical destruction that the single, orbiting AC-42 laid out on the main assault force was nothing that Malouf's men had ever seen or expected. Their taste of combat had been limited to rocket-propelled grenades, machine gun fire, assault rifle fire, the occasional mortar or artillery round, and the hand-to-hand kind. They'd never seen whole bunches of trucks exploded out of nowhere only to look up and see red streaks of light coming down at them. To many of the fighters, it was the wrath of Allah himself striking down on them in the darkness. The more educated of them knew precisely what it was though, one of the feared gunships that the Layartebians employed, a flying platform of death that was invisible in the night sky until it unleashed its anger and fury upon them. These were the smart men; they fled in the opposite direction though they were a fraction of the number.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 25, 2014 - 00:25 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

LTC Harris looked at the tracer fire coming down from the gunship and smiled. "That's what proper air support looks like men," he said to those gathered around him. "I want to make sure we're…" In the middle of this the radio cracked to life.

"This is Echo, we've got contact to the east!"

LTC Harris had never heard the word "east" when he replied, "Echo, Foxhound, negative that's friendly gunship."

"Foxhound, Echo, repeat contact to the EAST. I repeat contact to the EAST!"

"East?" LTC Harris turned around, "Hold fast Echo." Looking at a nearby soldier manning one of the other radios, he quickly barked, "Get me an ISR feed on Echo's position immediately."

"Yes sir," the soldier responded as he scrambled to get a line on what ISR asset could get the information. The gunship was unavailable, for obvious reasons, and helicopters were holding a safe position off of the coastline to avoid being engaged by ground fire.

To LTC Harris, a call of contact to the east made no sense. He knew that the main force split into two elements, one coming from the west, which was under fire, and one coming from the south, which had yet to turn to make their way northward to the Marines' positions. Fire from the east meant that they missed something and that something was big. He quickly took stock on what was to the east. The briefing stated that the structures were largely commercial and industrial in nature, rather than residential but this was Cyrenaica where zone planning wasn't a thing unlike back at home. It was highly probably that there were some homes interspersed where local Cyrenaicans managed to find some land and acquire its deed in enough of a capacity to build a home. It would be impossible to tell which structures were occupied and which ones weren't and even the large warehouses held the risk of being occupied by some civilians.

Less than a minute later, the radio barked to life again. "Foxhound, Echo, heavy contact; we're under fire from a large, infantry force in excess of platoon sized."

"Foxhound, Foxtrot, we've got heavy contact to the east as well." Now two positions along the eastern flank were taking fire and things were shaping up badly. LTC Harris quickly relayed the development to Orion only to receive the same disbelief he had exhibited only moments earlier. The request for air support from the attack helicopters would not be far behind this initial report that there was heavy contact to the east.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 25, 2014 - 05:15 hrs [UTC+2]
Benghazi, Cyrenaica
Benghazi Cement Factory
(32° 0' 21" N, 20° 8' 1" E)

Evidence of the night's chaos lay scattered all around the Benghazi Cement Factory mainly in the form of spent shell casings and corpses. To the west of the cement factory, the burned out and smoldering frames of vehicles sat still as a reminder to the importance of armor plating, not that any armor plating would have withstood the assault from the airborne gunship. The bodies of hundreds of Malouf's men lay scattered around the scene of death, the drivers of many vehicles burned nearly unrecognizable behind the steering wheels of their vehicles. For fifteen minutes, the gunship poured gunfire on the convoy, annihilating the vehicles and most of the men. Stragglers were taken out sporadically thereafter. To the south of the cement factory, the scene was similar. The second half of Malouf's main force had attempted to flank from the south but the gunship once again unleashed fury upon them, this time with the aid of attack helicopters, which swooped in from the sea, flying low, fast, and with a purpose, slamming anti-tank guided missiles into vehicles before the gunship could arrive. Neither of these two forces was even able to threaten the Layartebian Marines.

To the east however, the scene was markedly different. There, the AC-42 had not been called upon for fire support. Rather, the navy's attack helicopters and fighter jets had been used to pummel the enemy where the Marine soldiers could not. The display of carnage was thusly something that the Marine soldiers could see as they held their positions around the cement factory. Most of the Marines detached for this operation had never seen combat before and this, their first taste of it, was in a far off land with little to nothing in it for the Layartebian military. There was no plan to invade and conquer Cyrenaica or to defeat the forces within its borders. It was just an engagement that these Marines were sent into for some reason or another. Few of them even knew that they had gone there to capture the number three man in Al-Shams.

The night's firefight had left ten Marines and SEALS dead and a further seventy-three wounded, several of whom had been medevacked during the night. Despite the dangers, navy pilots flying MH-60S Knighthawks braved the threat of weaponry to land seven separate times to pick up wounded Marines, rushing them to the ships where they could be given medical treatment. Only one Marine would die en route to the hospital while the rest would all survive though most of the wounded Marines were treated on the ground and stayed with there, returning fire against enemy positions in a four and a half hour firefight from midnight until just before 05:00. Now that all was quiet, the Marines along the eastern flank had sent out several fire teams to look for any possible forces hiding out who could attack the Marines on their inevitable withdrawal.

There was some sporadic gunfire as the Marines searched through the areas given that some of Malouf's men were still alive, albeit wounded but still holding their weaponry. The Marines took no chances and if anyone moved, they were killed. At the cement factory, the SEALS had done more of the same but for them, it was slightly different. Tier One forces had long since adopted a policy of making sure terrorists and bad guys in general were dead by shooting even the unmoving bodies. On more than one occasion, a terrorist or hostile playing dead had caused harm or death to bypassing commandos. No longer would that happen and the SEALS at the cement factory had adopted the same stance here. No one was of particular importance so it mattered not to take prisoners and the SEALS and the Marines all knew this much. Malouf had escaped; Qureshi had escaped; and with them went the only two high value persons in Benghazi.

"Birddog, Birddog, Alpha One is back on the air."

"Glad to hear from you Alpha One, prepare your men for exfil."

"Thanks Birddog," Sapp said as he looked around the grounds of the cement factory. In the hours that he and his fireteam had been trapped underground, the firefight had raged and ended and the end results were clearly visible all around. Turning to LT Lombardo who was nearby, the ranking SEAL on the ground had but one question, "How many did we lose?"

"Ross is KIA and we medevacked Bearden and Stouffer, all from Fourth Squad. They'll make it."

"Where's Ross?"

"Body went back with Bearden and Stouffer. It's just us on the ground now. It took a while to dig you guys out," he patted Sapp on the back and smiled. "This is one for the memory wall wouldn't you agree?"

"Only if I can live this one down."

"Fat chance," in the faraway distance they could hear the unmistakable noise of the Osprey. Evac would come mostly by Osprey. The one coming to get the SEALS would not only take all of them but also the bags of intelligence that they hadn't been able to load onto the Knighthawk that had evacuated the wounded.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

December 25, 2014 - 05:30 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Lima Station
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

The veritable who's who of Operation BRONZE PALADAN were standing around the moving map display deep within the confines of the ILS Mediterranean (CVN-111) in its CIC. Brigadier General Grimm represented the ground forces while VADM Williams represented the naval forces, who had largely been unused. Standing with them and carrying no stars on his rank insignia was CAPT David Fagan, the CAG for Carrier Air Wing 27. Around the CIC were a number of enlisted men and officers who would fetch information for the commanders and feed them with the data needed for their decisions. On an open channel was LCDR Wilson who was aboard the ILS Nótt (LHA-34) at Tango Station. "Wilson, how long until the Ospreys are done?" LCDR Wilson was coordinating with the CAG for Carrier Air Wing 37 who was responsible for the helicopters and Harriers aboard the 7th Amphibious Ready Group.

"CAG tells me about ten to twenty minutes sir. There are some Marines on the eastern flank conducting a mop up sweep to cover our backs."

"Tell them to speed it up Wilson; we've got an entire air wing in the air to level the cement factory once our boys are clear."

"Aye aye sir," was all LCDR Wilson could say. He'd opposed leveling the factory, seeing no good use in it but the navy brass wanted to deny Malouf the ability to return there for his headquarters, even though the Cyrenaican had already come to the conclusion that a new headquarters was in the cards. Regardless of how Malouf or Wilson felt, the navy was going to drop enough guided ordinance onto the cement factory to turn it into cinders. Airborne were twelve A-19A Tempests from VA-301, all twelve F-57B Wraiths from VF-305, and all twelve F-58Ds from VFA-306. While four of the Wraiths were tasked with CAP to protect the carrier, the other eight had been loaded with guided, JDAM bombs to strike the factory. All told, the thirty-two fighters and attack planes had over four dozen bombs between them and they weren't shy about using the heavier, 2,000-lb variants of the JDAM or Paveway III. In fact, each of the eight Wraiths was carrying a GBU-31C/B 2,000-lb JDAM with a BLU-109 penetrating warhead. It was, in a way, overkill but the navy didn't see it that way. What they saw was the opportunity to expend some ordinance from safely above.

BG Grimm turned to CAPT Fagan and nodded his head, "CAG it looks like your boys will have to stay up there for a little longer. My Marines want to be thorough in their search of Malouf's men. Chances are they're worried about taking an RPG or a MANPAD on exfil."

"Aye sir, the air wing has enough fuel to wait it out and then RTB but even still I'm going to launch the Damselfly with some fuel aboard." The C-16B Damselfly was a cargo plane built on the M-15 platform. That platform had created the E-5A Scarecrow, an airborne early warning plane, and the KC-16C Damselfly, a dedicated tanker. Most of the KC-16s served on the bigger, fleet carriers while smaller carriers like the Mediterranean only had a pair of Damselflies. In that case, the navy had been smart to fit the aircraft with modular fuel bladders that could be loaded onto the plane and piped into a pair of wing pods dragging probe and drogue fuel lines. In this way, even the C-16 could be a tanker and it could refuel two planes at once.

While he went off to get the C-16 into the skies with its 3,600 gallons of fuel, BG Grimm turned to the men around him and smiled. "Well boys we might not have gotten Qureshi but we'll sure let him and the rest of AS know that we were there." It seemed a ridiculous statement, especially given the firefight that had transpired during the night but while BG Grimm had experience in the field, he was never one to pass up a good opportunity to prance around and tout his capabilities. He was an effective commander all right but he definitely expended unnecessary resources from time to time and this was one of them.

Fifteen minutes later, when the last Osprey lifted off of the ground carrying the last Marines, BG Grimm puffed out his chest and ceremoniously called to CAPT Fagan to send in the jets, something he was already in the process of coordinating. He didn't need Grimm's orders to do what had already been planned.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

December 29, 2014 - 09:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

The weekend had been quiet, largely due to the fact that Christmas had been on a Thursday and thusly, everyone was off on Friday and the weekend. Yet, the press had gotten snippets that a military action, conducted by Layartebian forces, happened in Benghazi, though they didn't know to what capacity yet. Questions to both the Office of the Emperor and the Ministry of Defense had gone unanswered with those receiving the requests answering only that due to the long holiday, no one was available with sufficient authority to answer them. The press bought it but the weekend was over and now they were beginning to ask more questions. The Layartebian News Network was running pundits questioning the action from what little they knew. A full-blown investigation throughout the Ministry of Justice was underway to find out who leaked the operation to the press since it wasn't meant to be.

Gathered now with the Emperor in his office was the Cabinet and there, he put forth the question, how did the press find out about BRONZE PALADIN. "Sir, we've been on it since we heard about the leak but right now we haven't turned up any leads. We're trying to backtrack through the correspondences from Justin Dietz," answered Minister Cooper of Justice. Justin Dietz, a report with the Layarteb City Times, had been the one to first break the story and so, for obvious reasons, he was the focus of the investigation.

"Is it possible that the leak didn't come from here but rather from Libya?" The Emperor asked.

Minister Cooper nodded, "Our legal attaché in Tripoli is looking into that very possibility sir."

"For now we're faced without much of a choice. We're going to have to own up to something aren't we? Henry what do you suggest?"

"Well sir," responded Henry Branson the press secretary, "it seems that the press only knows that something happened, not the full extent of what happened. It's prudent that we feed them something sir. We let them know that yes, a military operation did take place in Benghazi but we don't give them the target. We merely tell them that we were acting on intelligence against an active, terrorist cell that was planning a coordinated attack. We say nothing in detail and we be vague about it sir so that if more details leak we're not necessarily lying but just obscuring the truth."

"Very well, draft up something and I will review it before lunch. We'll go public during the lunch hour. That will give us a little while before we have to provide further answers."

"Yes sir." After thirty minutes, most of the Cabinet departed leaving just the National Security Council to hold their meeting. It was at this meeting that the subject of Qureshi was broached.

"Minister Flores, do you know where Qureshi is?"

"We believe we have his location sir."

"How certain are we?"

"Fifty percent at best, we're hoping SIGINT can pick him up; we know he's not talking on the air but we can deduce who is and where the orders are coming from sir."

"What's the plan if we get his location? I'm not going to authorize another ground incursion."

"Sir we believe that another ground incursion, even with a JSOC force, would be problematic. We attempted it and it did not work. We'd prefer to take him out with a bomb sir. The plan has the navy on standby to launch a series of strikes using guided bombs against a target. We also have the air force in Al-Jufra with a squadron of Tridents ready to go with heavier ordinance if it were to be needed sir."

"Cruise missile option?"

"It's there too sir, it's just a matter of which one can get to the target faster."

"Okay - I want to stay apprised of any development. Where is Cham's forces now?"

"They'll probably have Benghazi in the next week or two sir; Malouf's men have conceded some territory since Christmas, perhaps as a result of our action; we cannot ascertain what effect we've had just yet sir but we don't foresee Malouf holding the city. It is unlikely that he'll lose the surrounding areas though, largely due to Essa's inability to break out from Al-Abyar."

"What's your take on all of this Minister Fisher?"

"Sir there's no real take for us. Cham isn't going to be a unifying force to bring Cyrenaica into the fold. This is about as far as he'll get and that's all. There won't be any push against Al-Shams' in fact, this might give them more support as the warlords unite against Essa, Cham, and Daher. Without a doubt, Bazzi and Malouf, if he makes it out of this alive, will form a bloc and they will probably unite with Al-Shams. Al-Shams will want to stay neutral with the two blocs but it's going to be a push for them to unite more with Bazzi and Malouf and given their assistance of Malouf right now, I think it's attainable sir."

"Worst case scenario?"

"Al-Shams unites with Bazzi and Malouf and gains support and recruits to work more feverishly outside of Cyrenaica. We've largely pushed them into the walls of Cyrenaica though they have splinter, allied groups abroad. They're not on the run but neither are they making a real name for themselves outside of West African Jihad in the Senegambian region."

"Very well we'll stay the course and the moment we have a position location on Qureshi, I want bombs on his head. They'll replace him but he cannot think he's escaped from us."

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January 2, 2015 - 01:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Mediterranean Sea
Lima Station
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

"You know, this is the kind of mission that just bores the crap out of me," LTJG Morris said to his WSO as they departed the briefing room. Only five minutes earlier, the scheduled briefing on this morning's mission had concluded and in it, he'd been selected to lead a two-ship flight over Benghazi to destroy a single target. What made it more interesting was that they would have a fighter escort. "And tell me why the hell the CAG has to fly with us on this one? We'll never be below twenty-five thousand feet and there isn't a single threat to our fighters over all of Cyrenaica if we stay above fifteen thousand."

"I think he's just bored with sitting on this ship," ENS Taylor, his WSO, answered. "Either way they're not our problem."

"I just don't like it when the CAG looks over my shoulder. He doesn't know the first thing about dropping bombs. He likes to think he does but the man's an air combat jock."

"Well if the Cyrenaican military suddenly got their hands on a squadron of MiGs we'll be safe."

"Yeah, whatever, let's just get this done so we can come back. I'm exhausted, I hate the night shift." LTJG Morris and his WSO found their way to the hangar, where they conducted their external checks. Because it was nighttime and the carrier was running dark, this was the only place they could make a proper check of their aircraft with the proper lighting. Fifteen minutes later, when they were hooked up to catapult number two, LTJG Morris watched the afterburners of the ascending F-57B Wraiths, which had been launched before him with the CAG leading the flight, go out and the fighters disappeared into the night. Less than three minutes later, he was in the air too, flying in the lead slot escorting one of the greener men.

Only a day earlier, amidst a roaring hangover from the New Year's celebrations, LTJG Morris and ENS Taylor were both presented with the Navy Commendation Medal for their decision to press on with the initial strikes on the evening of December 24. In addition, the award recognized their proficient management of limited ordinance to achieve military objectives with one aircraft that were designed for two aircraft to meet. During the ceremony, both men were recognized for their quick thinking and for achieving their objectives in a timely manner that did not cause any delay to the main assault force. Both men were appreciative of the away but they were fighting roaring headaches and raw stomachs.

Now, they were volunteering for a late night, very early morning strike against some building in Benghazi for reasons neither of them were told. As they ingressed towards the target, both men sat quietly in their seats, enjoying the calm stillness of the air at 36,000 feet. The two Wraiths, flying ten miles away, were invisible in the darkness except that LTJG Morris had them spotted on his IRST, which had no difficulty picking out the infrared signature of their engines. They were stealthy to X band radar, not to infrared for this was no way to do that and maintain the kind of performance that the F-57 Wraith required. Only a handful of aircraft were "cold" in terms of infrared and they were all truly stealth aircraft, whether they were attack fighters that maintained subsonic speeds or heavy bombers.

Loaded lightly, the two Vipers were carrying only a pair of 370 gallon drop tanks on their inner wing hardpoints, two GBU-23A/B Paveway III laser-guided bombs, and a pair of short-range, AIM-204A Escape missiles. The Wraiths had a full air-to-air assortment of six AMRAAMs and two Escapes. Why this couldn't be done with a UAV wondered LTJG Morris and the other pilot who would have rather stayed comfortably aboard the carrier than venture out to destroy a single building. What they didn't know, because the N2 hadn't told them, was that they were on their way to kill Qureshi, or so the Ministry of Intelligence believed. They'd focused heavily on SIGINT since Christmas, aware that Qureshi and Malouf were still giving orders just not directly. The voice on the radio wasn't them but it was speaking for them, likely in the same room. The Ministry of Intelligence knew the callsigns for both men and they had been looking for "Agha" since Christmas, the Turkish word for chief or master, which was what Qureshi used. Three hours earlier, they'd gotten a hit and pinpointed it to a walled compound along a wadi approximately seven miles southeast of the cement factory.

Infrared reconnaissance of the site showed one large, L-shaped building, a very small rectangular shack, a lot of open area, and another smaller compound within that had one building. The kinetic energy of the 1,000-lb bombs could neutralize the two smaller buildings without the explosive force but the L-shaped building would need the actual warhead. It was determined that while a 500-lb bomb could do the trick, extra firepower would be needed to send a message. The planners didn't just want to destroy the building, they wanted to obliterate it. The BLU-110A/B warhead on the GBU-23A/B would carry 445 pounds of high-explosive fury.

Just over a hundred miles later, LTJG Morris and his WSO were going through the steps necessary to drop their ordinance. The target was coming up on them, at a distance of 125 miles from the carrier. They had it within range but they were still too far away to drop their ordinance and they had to descend to 20,000 feet to avoid some clouds, giving them a nominal range of about ten miles for their bombs. Morris would drop first, slamming his ordinance into the L-shaped building while his wingman followed closely behind with striking the smaller of the two remaining buildings. They would loop around, destroy the third one, and then, with the extra bomb, strike the L-shaped building again. It would have been easier to use JDAMs but the navy planners wanted laser-guided bombs and so that was why LTJG Morris and his wingman were toting them over Benghazi.

Once they had their checklist done, the targeting was quite simple. ENS Taylor turned on the laser designator and selected the appropriate target. Then he verified it against mission parameters, declared that it was the correct target, and slaved the bomb to the laser. Thirty seconds later, LTJG Morris pickled the bomb off of the starboard wing and down it fell. In another thirty seconds, the bomb impacted the target, filling the FLIR with a bright, white flash. The image quickly cleared as the sensors adjusted the brightness of the explosion. "That's a shack!" ENS Taylor called out and a minute later, the bomb from their wingman struck home, destroying the shack before its warhead could even detonate. They followed the sequence again, this time with LTJG Morris taking out the third building and his wingman dropping another bomb into the L-shaped building, which was more of a heap of burning rubble at that point. In less than five minutes, all three buildings had been obliterated, just like the navy wanted, and on the jets flew for home, landing at the carrier safely and without incident. It would be only then that LTJG Morris and his WSO, along with their wingman, would learn the identity of the target they hit.

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January 7, 2015 - 10:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Ministry of Intelligence
(40° 47' 10" N, 73° 55' 58" W)

"You want to know the difference between Essa, Malouf, and Cham?" Asked intelligence analyst Susan Coyle as she watched the screen and listened.

"Sure why not Susie," responded Jimmy Contreras, whose Venezuelan-accented speech had yet to leave him despite his living in Layarteb City for the past twenty years.

"Cham wears a suit," Susie responded and the two chuckled. It was the kind of joke outsiders wouldn't have understood but which gave the two of them a momentary chuckle. They were watching a recording of Cham's speech in downtown Benghazi. Hours earlier, while most Layartebians were sound asleep, the last of Malouf's forces fled the city and headed southward into the larger area known as Hizam al Akhdar, translating to "Green Belt," one of the ten districts of Cyrenaica, back when districts mattered.

Cham had chosen the sports complex, or rather what used to be the sports complex, to give his address to the people. Though wary a sniper could easily snatch his life, Cham opted to climb atop a tank to speak to an assembled crowd of people, mostly his own soldiers. He extolled their fighting skills and proclaimed them to be liberators of the people of Benghazi who would thank them in the coming days now that the government's righteous hand could see to their safety. Of course, he left out that the Cyrenaican government under Cham was not all that different on paper. He was a warlord just like Malouf, Essa, Daher, and Bazzi. He only proclaimed himself as the "President of Cyrenaica," that wasn't a title given to him by any electorate of people. He expressed concern for the stalemate at Al-Abyar but did not call out Essa on his failure to secure the city, which would have allowed Cham and his forces the ability to attack the entirety of the Hizam al Akhdar District. Little could be said, positively that is, for Essa's campaign, which was an abject failure.

Still, Cham looked past his ally's transgressions and proclaimed many things for the people of Benghazi. Still hopeful that Benghazi could be the capital of Cyrenaica, he didn't say as much chiefly because there was a big uncertainty. His men controlled the coastline and the main route to Benghazi along it but insofar as the interior areas around the city, they controlled nothing. That was Essa's job and he'd failed them. There had been private talk of him marching his army towards Al-Abyar and attacking in from the southwest, which would allow Essa a potential breakout but that hadn't materialized. His men only controlled Benghazi north of the Alhawari Highway, which consequently ran alongside the northern perimeter of the Benghazi Cement Factory, which had been reduced to rubble by the Imperial Layartebian Navy only days earlier. The only territory he held south of this highway was the airport and the nearby town of Ar Rajmah. Those were his lines and his forces, though victorious, had taken a shellacking in the process. To make matters worse, because Essa had failed, a sizeable portion of Malouf's men, including Malouf himself, managed to escape southwards as their ranks fell to pieces. This kept Malouf's army, though weakened, still intact.

"It's a shame we couldn't get Qureshi or Malouf," Jimmy said after Cham paused to soak in a thunderous amount of applause. The tape had come from the Libyan External Security Bureau who'd had someone in the crowd.

"He was sneaky. I just finished going through the report an hour before this tape came. He was using runners to keep his location hidden. All the navy hit was a glorified radio center, more like a shack. A team combing through the remains found no one of importance. We killed a bunch of radio operators that's all; they probably didn't even know they were being used as bait."

"And now Qureshi's gone into hiding in Kufra and he knows we came close to getting him."

"It might give him a sense of his mortality but that's a hundred-to-one shot I bet. The son of a bitch probably thinks Allah protected him in some supernatural, mysterious way."

"We'll get him one of these days," Jimmy said, quieting as Cham continued his speech. A translation ran at the bottom but neither Susie nor Jimmy needed it, they could speak Arabic. They had to admit the translation was good and not misleading, something that several individuals within the MoI had feared when it came to material from the LESB. They knew that they were both on the same side but there was still a level of distrust that was institutional within the MoI that regarded any other intelligence agency as "not as good" unless it was a member of The October Alliance.

Three days later, Cham would grudgingly announce that Benghazi wasn't going to be the capital due to Essa's inability to break through Al-Abyar. An attempt on January 11 for Cham, Essa, and Daher to form a loose confederation would ultimately break down in Derna as the men couldn't get past their own differences. They would remain friendly to one another but this was as far as it would go. They stuck to their guns even after a January 15th announcement from Malouf that he and Bazzi had formed an alliance bloc to oppose the other three warlords. Insofar as the Ministry of Intelligence could ascertain, Al-Shams wanted neutrality between the two blocs but they were heavily favoring Malouf and Bazzi over the other three.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

Chapter I
A New Future

January 9, 2014 - 00:10 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Al Jufra Air Base
(29° 11' 27" N, 16° 0' 34" E)

If Al-Shams had spotters in either Hun or Waddan, and they likely did, the spotters would have noted that Al Jufra was exceptionally quiet on the night and morning of January 8 - 9 with only one exception. A black-painted helicopter, type identified as a Black Hawk, lifted into the skies with only a two-man crew, not even the usual door gunners, and headed to the north just after midnight. Such a flight was hardly worth noting to superiors in Cyrenaica and it was likely that the spotters made a log entry, if they were that diligent, and went back to sleep. The noise of a Black Hawk taking off, unimpeded by the flatness of the terrain and the chill in the air would have certainly alerted them to activity but they were there to look for "massive activity" and not a single helicopter taking off in the dead of the night with no one but a pilot and a co-pilot.

They might have noted that the helicopter had a pair of stub wings attached, each of which was carrying an external fuel tank. They wouldn't have known that the two, 230-gallon tanks not only carried more fuel than the helicopter's internal, 360-gallon tank but that it would double the range to over 1,000 kilometers. This might have been a concern had there been men and door gunners but there were neither. The absence of men could signal a pickup but not without door gunners and so the flight, if it had been observed, was considered benign, probably a resupply flight to the Mediterranean where the Imperial Layartebian Navy was known to keep warships available. It might have even been to Tripoli, who knows and at that hour of the morning, who cared, certainly not the spotters bored to death.

The Layartebian Joint Special Operations Command, which was a 100,000-man body of the military operated in the shadows of secrecy and they were known to plan precautions into their operations. Any flight into Cyrenaica launching from Al Jufra would assume that Al-Shams had men watching the airfield at any and all times. So a flight as important as this one took off empty and headed north for forty-five kilometers before it settled down in a wadi approximately five kilometers east of the major highway. It was here in this wadi that the pilots of the Black Hawk saw their mission, a six-man special operations team who were standing beside a pair of SUVs. Along with them were the two door gunners, all of them dressed and ready to go into action. The helicopter was on the ground for two minutes while everyone climbed aboard, the door gunners strapped in and connected their headsets. Then the doors were shut and the helicopter rose out of the wadi and proceeded to the east. In two hundred and forty kilometers it would pass over the imaginary line on the map that differentiated Cyrenaica and Libya. On the ground, signs and a tall fence indicated the border but there wasn't any life for forty kilometers in any direction. Passing over the border at barely fifty feet above the ground, not even the Libyan radar stations could see the helicopter and that was fine, that was how JSOC wanted it.

Another seventy-five kilometers later after a trip of three hundred and sixty kilometers, the helicopter settled down next to a particularly large sand dune. It was here that the Sahara Desert was called the Libyan Desert and in Cyrenaica, they called it the Cyrenaican Desert, as if that altered what it was, which was a barren wasteland of nothing but sand for as far as the horizon stretched. The men dropped off didn't mind per say. They wore desert camouflage and they relished in the ability to see hostiles from maximum range, even though they knew that meant they were just as visible. A check of their watches confirmed that it was 02:00 thereabout when they touched down fifteen klicks west of their target, the desert village of Zelten.

Zelten was an otherwise nondescript village in the desert except for the presence of a small airstrip to its southwest. Zelten had once been the central hub of a sizeable oil field until the whole country went to hell in a handbasket. Now it served merely as an outpost in the expanse that was the Sahara. The Cyrenaican government wanted its hands on Zelten and by proxy the provincial area of Ajdabiya, which was controlled by Jamal al Din Muhammad Bazzi but those plans had gone to shit when Essa failed to make progress against Malouf forcing Cham to merely accept Benghazi and the coastal highway as his only territory. This meant he couldn't move the Cyrenaican capital to Benghazi, as he'd originally wanted.

It was still a victory for Cham just not the kind of victory he'd wanted. Malouf, on the other hand, was only incensed with rage. He'd pledged to get Benghazi back and no one in Cyrenaica doubted him but if he wanted to do that he'd need more than just his men. He'd need an alliance with Bazzi that brought him more men and he'd need Al-Shams' soldiers in large quantities. Despite the complexity of it, it was within the realm of possibility. That was why these men were headed towards Zelten. With sunrise approximately five and a half hours away, the six men got to walking. They were well hydrated and well rested, despite the long flight and that was good because they had eight klicks to go to get there not that it would take them a particularly long time to hump it that far but they wanted to get there with plenty of time to spare before the sun lit up the desert.

The position that had been chosen was a small, abandoned hut that had been under observation for some time now with both satellite passes and drone passes. At no point did it appear that this particular site was occupied but only arriving at its front door would tell the men. This was too important of an operation to inform the Libyans and the Ministry of Intelligence didn't have anyone nearby that could swing past the location in a car and snap some photos. It was risky of course but these six men were used to risk.

These weren't your six, average commandos. They belonged to JSOC but they belonged to its Black Operations Command, specifically the 2nd Black Operations Group, known as Force Thunder by its members. A small outfit of just one hundred and twenty men, the 2nd BOG focused on counter-terrorism and it was a lean unit. It had an HQ and a support staff of seventy-two, meaning there were just forty-eight shooters. Twenty-four belonged to six, 4-man action teams under 1st Platoon. The other twenty-four were in 2nd Platoon and split into two units. Sixteen men belonged to four, 4-man reconnaissance teams and the other eight men belonged to four, 2-man sniper teams. The six men out here this morning belonged to Recon Team Bravo and Sniper Team Charlie.

Leading the men was 1LT Armando Wolfe, Recon Team Bravo's leader. He came into the 2nd BOG from the 5th SOG known as the Green Berets. Serving under him was SFC Roger Dunn, a Marine who made it into the 2nd BOG after a stint with the 3rd SOG, known as Ghost Recon. SSG John Horton, also a former Green Beret, was the radioman and PO1 Jack Osbourne, a former SEAL, was the point man, known here as a "pathfinder." The sniper team consisted of CPO Myron Spring and his spotter PO1 Rich Guerrero, also former SEALS. Because this was a desert operation, the men had to be prepared for a lot of things. Water was hard to find so they were packing a lot of it and using it sparingly. They had warm clothes for night and light clothes for the day. They packed food in MREs and took along no mementoes. Everything they carried was purely gear, whether it was food, ammo, medical supplies, water, or mission gear, everything had a purpose, nothing was personal. They wore no nametags and carried no rank insignia for they were truly in the realm of black operations. If they were killed on an op they would be denounced as mercenaries and not claimed, something they all signed on for when they joined JSOC's Black Operations Command. It was also important that none of these men had dependents, another criterion for operating with the 2nd BOG.

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January 8, 2015 - 22:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Ministry of Intelligence
(40° 47' 10" N, 73° 55' 58" W)

Deep within the bowels of the Ministry of Intelligence, a half dozen men and three women hovered around a specialized, compartmented, operations room. It was there than the nine-person team was sequestered for the duration of this operation. Passage into the room was by special, keycard access only and a pair of armed and very serious guards prevented access to the entire wing to those who did not have authorization. They checked everyone, even the Minister herself and the one time she'd forgotten to bring her card was the last time for she was forced to make the trip back to her office to get it. The guard apologized but protocol was protocol. He was eventually promoted to oversee the entire staff and he'd earned it.

Leading the team was Kerry Palomo, a seasoned veteran of running operations. With a headset in her ear, she watched the live feed from a high-orbiting drone over the area where the six men from the 2nd BOG were inserted. They'd watched them on infrared walk the eight klicks to the rest position, holding their breath while the team checked out the position, declared it safe, and entered to stay for the night. Whether through satellite or drone coverage, the team would have eyes on the team for the duration of the operation. It was this drone, flying 30,000 feet above them, which was providing a constant source of communications. Through this link came the voice of 1LT Wolfe, "Charlie Papa, how am I coming through?"

"Fine Bravo-Two," Kerry answered after she unmuted her hands free earpiece. "Go with traffic."

"We've made it to Echo and the place is fine. We're going to set up now, how long do we have Zeus?"

"Seven more hours Bravo-Two," Kerry said after a moment. Patched into the link but on a separate channel for now was the drone pilot in a different part of the building. Flying the drone remotely from over 5,000 miles away, the pilot was lazily guiding the drone in a figure eight pattern covering a few miles and unlike other, more commonly known drones, this one was quiet enough that it couldn't be heard on the ground.

"Roger that, we'll link up in five hours."

"Sounds good Bravo-Two, sleep well." Kerry pulled the earpiece out of her ear, stretched, and yawned. Looking at the wall she saw the local time in Libya and the local time there, noting the seven hour difference. She and the rest of the team would be on duty for the next few days while the team on the ground went about their mission, sleeping during the day and moving at night with everyone awake at dusk and dawn. "All right I'm going to step out and let the Minister know, why she's so interested in this one is a bit above me but hey, who am I to argue with the top floor?"

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

January 8, 2015 - 23:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

It was going to be a long night and the principals sitting around the table in the War Room knew it all too well. Coffee percolated in a machine on the other side of the room and an assortment of high energy food was sitting on a half-picked platter near the coffee machine. The temperature in the room was at a comfortable 72°F and the big screen displays were all turned off to prevent distraction from creeping its way into the discussion since the discussion was absolutely paramount. A major operation was underway and though it only involved six men on the ground, it was part of a new strategy in dealing with both Cyrenaica and Al-Shams. The involvement of the SEALS and Marines during Christmas to nab Qureshi had changed the game big time. Al-Shams had previously saw Cyrenaica as a safe haven but the Empire had violated their presumed safe haven so willfully.

Until this past December, the Empire of Layarteb's strategy against Al-Shams was purely "go it alone." This was set because the Empire didn't want to have to consult with its allies or risk leaks that would tip off Al-Shams prior to operations. It was largely being fought in cyberspace and in the general world of technology. The Ministry of Intelligence was tracking Al-Shams' finances, its travels, its procurements, and its plans, whether through elaborate hacking measures throughout the internet or through high-altitude reconnaissance drones with listening systems. Al-Shams had gotten clever though and on more than one occasion, hackers working for the Ministry of Intelligence had been led down a deception path and wasted both time and resources. Such deceptive measures prevented the Empire of Layarteb from learning of Qureshi's involvement with Malouf. It wasn't that the Empire had abandoned HUMINT it was only that the fight against Al-Shams was difficult from a HUMINT perspective, thus enter the Libyans.

King Yusuf's maneuvering to get the Kingdom of Libya involved in the covert fight against Al-Shams was true genius. The Empire of Layarteb was faced with no choice but to acquiesce to his demands and now the Libyans were equals at the table in the fight against Al-Shams. In ways this did benefit the Empire since the Libyan External Security Bureau had plenty of embedded men within Cyrenaica and Al-Shams but in other ways it was risky. Not everyone in the LESB could be fully trusted by the Empire and leaks were a constant worry. The Cyrenaicans were, when push came to shove, the same ethnic group as the Libyans were and familial alliances always trumped political loyalties in that part of the world. The worry was that a Libyan analyst would be a third cousin once removed of some lieutenant in Al-Shams and be passing him information on drone and strike operations.

To counter this, the principals wanted something new, something under the table, something that they could run without any input whatsoever from the Libyans. The fight against Al-Shams had been covert. Covert was defined as an operation designed to conceal the identity of the sponsor. Clandestine operations focused on concealing the operation in and of itself, not just the sponsor. Of course it was foolish to think that anyone in the world would not assume it was the Empire of Layarteb if an Al-Shams training camp exploded but plausible deniability was more for legal repercussions. Al-Shams certainly assumed it was the Empire involved in any foul play, whether it was from an engine seizing on one of their technicals to a bomb strike against a training camp.

Thus, the Empire adopted a new strategy, a new operation, something that would involve solely the men - and women - of JSOC's Black Operations Command. While the Libyans were involved with the main table of operations, this side table would be operating in the faraway background and if pressured, the Empire would deny everything. The operations were designed to be clandestine in nature but should they become visible, there would be nothing linking the Empire to the operation. These were scrubbed as cleanly as possible and the first such operation was taking place now, which was precisely why the principals were meeting in the War Room. Gathered around this table was the Special Cabinet of the Empire of Layarteb along with some higher ranking individuals within both the Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of Intelligence who were directly involved and read into the operation. Overall, the operation was codenamed Operation ALBANY 42. The number was insignificant but the name denoted a county of the state of New York. Everything relating to this operation would, for the time being, carry the name of a New York county. This was done solely at random.

At 23:00 hours, as late in the day as could be, the Emperor entered the War Room and sat down at the head of the table. Everyone else took their seats around him and it was up to Anna Graves from the Ministry of Intelligence to begin the briefing, bringing the Emperor up to speed. "Sir, just after midnight, local time in Cyrenaica, we inserted JSOC's men due west of Zaltan for DUTCHESS 11. We received confirmation an hour ago that they reached their hide site and were turning in for the daylight hours. ROE strictly forbids any daytime travel except in the case of an emergency extraction. As far as we have ascertained, their insert went unnoticed by all parties in the region, especially the Libyans. We have a Reaper on station orbiting at 30,000 feet right now over their site and it has five more hours on station before we're going to swap it with another one. There will be a thirty minute open window between switching that we'll cover with satellite coverage.

"As you all know DUTCHESS 11 is the first operation of ALBANY 42 and our priority is this man," she pulled a few black and white, enlarged photographs out of a folder and passed them around the table. "His name is Ken Castle but he goes by Jim Suarez. He's Hirgizstanian by birth and a mercenary by trade. The Ministry of Intelligence hired him and his group - eight men and three women - to work operations in Ethiopia in 2012. Somewhere around February 2013, his group was ambushed by Ethiopian rebels and we believed killed to the last man. Three weeks ago, he resurfaced. His current profession is supplying arms, particularly plastic explosives, and he is working out of Chad. He has a few 'facilities' we'll call them including a small airstrip near Bardai.

"Al-Shams brokered a deal with him to buy three hundred kilograms, six hundred and sixty pounds, of Semtex and Castle is delivering them tomorrow at dawn. He has a King Air C90GT that he converted to transport cargo. We believe that Castle is flying the shipment direct. Unfortunately for us, we weren't able to arrange an accident in-flight." She stopped for a moment and took a sip of her water before continuing. "Now while we believe Castle will fly in the shipment direct, we aren't fully sure yet. Al-Shams is a new customer to him as far as we can tell and he might want to broker more of a relationship with them, in which instance he'll fly the cargo personally. This presents us with an opportunity.

"Firstly, we want to verify that Castle is indeed the delivery man and if he is we have an opportunity to knock out a few birds with one stone. Our hope is that Castle is the delivery man in which case we would like to go one of two routes. The first route is the riskiest, it would involve an assault by the ground team and the second route is a strike using a drone. In the first case, the ground team would have to assess the number of hostiles and the situation on the ground to evaluate the feasibility. If it were the route they would arrange the scene as best as they could to make it appear that the load detonated in the aircraft by accident. A key factor in the success is to avoid any gunfire from hostiles. Our men are equipped with collection bags to avoid leaving brass casings but should signs of a firefight appear it would ruin the effect. While this is our 'first route' it is the lesser likely of the two.

"Our second option involves utilizing a stealth UAV equipped with a special bomb that the LDC has worked up in the past few months. The bomb utilizes the thirty-eight pound warhead of the Small Diameter Bomb, a very simplistic guidance set utilizing laser-designation, and an all aluminum casing. The objective of the bomb is to leave little trace of its origin. By using duralumin as a casing, we eliminate the shrapnel effect and the material is the same as the aircraft skin. The risk of identification is significantly lower than with other bombs.

"Naturally sir there is some element of risk. The explosive force, being low, may not completely destroy the guidance system and the Semtex could always not detonate sir but we're confident in this avenue. It's certainly less risky than six lives."

"I would agree with that," the Emperor said, finally breaking Anna's monologue. "It would be easier just bringing down the plane in-flight. Will we be tracking it from takeoff to arrival?"

"Yes sir," Minister Flores of Intelligence said. "That much we can track confidently."

"How was this information obtained?"

"Cyber warfare sir," Chairman-General Barnes said with a big smile. It was a widely known fact within the Layartebian military that the Chairman-General was a "rock 'em, sock 'em" kind of man who believed in blunt, forceful, military action. He believed in tanks and artillery and air power and cruise missiles and machine guns. He was slow to acquiesce to the new world of cyber warfare, though he didn't impede it. It was amusing - in a morose kind of way - that he would be smiling at such a statement. "Score one for the children," he added.

"Yes it would seem the case Chairman-General," the Emperor said laughing with the Chairman-General. The Chairman-General was six years the Emperor's senior but the two had known one another, in a fashion, since 1976. It was then that the Emperor, known only as Ryan Wright, joined the infantry to fight in the Venezuelan War. Chairman-General Barnes was then a first lieutenant and a company executive officer in the same division but a different battalion as Ryan Wright was. Like many others, both men stayed in the army and fought for it during the Second Civil War out of duty and honor, not out of any loyalty to the government, which was why they held some of the highest positions in the land now. Both had become ardent believers in the Empire and its first Emperor and it was his legacy that they carried on now. "I want to say the logic of this is simple. The ground team will identify if Castle is piloting the plane and if he is then we'll drop the bomb and eliminate the plane, Castle, the explosives, and any Al-Shams terrorists there to pick it up and we'll play it off as an accident. If Castle isn't there?"

"Sir the plane is still a liability," answered Minister Flores.

"Precisely, it's gone just the same. I believe that a ground assault is out of the question here. What is the likelihood Al-Shams will have someone major there?"

"Sir, they'll probably send someone mid-range on the totem pole," Anna quickly answered, "limited intelligence value."

"Not worth six lives then, we take it out and no ground team assault required. I'd rather not see this one make the evening news at LNN."

"That's the focus of ALBANY 42 sir," Minister Flores said, "to keep this off of the news. The Libyans will get word of it but we're steering them, through our actions, to make it look like an accident. We don't believe they are aware of the deal. If they are they're keeping it very close to the chest. We'd have heard something now."

"What about extraction? What's the plan?"

"The extraction is going to be a tough one sir," Chairman-General Barnes said, passing it over to Brigadier General Tom Ryan, JSOC's operations officer.

"Sir," BG Ryan said in his gruff manner. He was known to be a largely humorless man with the utmost loyalty for the men underneath him. He'd been with Delta Force from 1997 until 2011 when he was promoted following SALT GARDEN in Iran. Prior to that he'd been a Green Beret for six years and no one under his command had ever said he risked their lives unnecessarily, even when he threw them into "no win" situations. "Our plan for a hot extraction is to utilize a special operations CV-22. If that isn't needed sir we'll pick them up the same way we grabbed them, at night via Black Hawk. The extraction point will be approximately twenty klicks into the desert. The team's objective will be to get there at dusk after locating local transportation. They're equipped with local wardrobe to aid in their escape. If we have to hot extract we'll lose the clandestine aspect of the operation but we'll get the men out of there."

"What's the flight time from Al-Jufra to the extract point?"

"Sir approximately seventy-five minutes by Black Hawk or forty-five minutes by Osprey. We're going to move the Osprey into position near the border at a deserted location prior to the aircraft's anticipated landing so that it is there. Reaction time will be much quicker than forty-five minutes sir, approximately ten minutes from the order to go."

"Long time in a firefight but it's the best we can do?"

"Yes sir it is. They'll be going in fast; too fast for escorts unfortunately sir and having aircraft in the skies will alert the Libyans that something is going on so they'll be on their own."

"Understood…" The Emperor thought for a moment, "We stick to the plan then. We'll hit the plane with a bomb and move to extract under regular circumstances. If they're in trouble, I'm pre-authorizing the Osprey to get into Cyrenaica to pick them up so that we don't waste time."

"Thank you sir," BG Ryan answered happily.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

January 9, 2015 - 00:20 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

"Sir we have acquired the aircraft," said Anna Graves as she put down her phone. Picking up a remote, she turned on the main display before she sat down at her laptop, plugged in the output cable, and brought up the live imagery for all of the principals in the room to see. "We have an MQ-20A Pegasus orbiting over the area at an altitude of 35,000 feet sir and it just picked up the aircraft on infrared." The MQ-20A Pegasus was an unmanned, stealth drone built from the X-47 program. It specialized in all-aspect stealth from both radar and infrared sensors and it was used only once in a while, when there could be no evidence of a Layartebian presence. The one operating over Cyrenaica now was carrying a pair of special bombs, destined for the aircraft.

"How far out is it?"

"About ten minutes sir. We're patching in the ground team and the Pegasus crew now to the overall audio channel sir." She waited a moment and then pushed a button on her earpiece, "Bravo-Two are you on channel?"

"Roger that Charlie Papa."

"Standby for information Bravo-Two; Darkstar are you on the channel?"

"Roger that Charlie Papa, Darkstar is here."

"Bravo-Two, we have the target aircraft entering airspace now. Patch into Darkstar's feed and you'll have a visual."

"Roger that Charlie Papa, we've got it."

"Are you in a safe position Bravo-Two?"

"We are and we've got the optics on the runway and two vehicles. One is a cargo truck, an M35 six-by-six and the other is an old Range Rover, maybe mid-80s. Four guys in the Range Rover, two in the M35 but no IDs on them, dawn is in twenty minutes though. We'll have better light for a photo."

"Roger that Bravo-Two, standby then for landing." Anna pushed the mute button and swung around in her chair. The Emperor and a handful of principals were standing, looking at the display screen as the infrared image of the aircraft tracked closer to the airport.

As the minutes passed, the infrared image of the incoming aircraft grew progressively larger as it got closer and closer to the airstrip. From their overwatch position, the commandos saw it through their own binoculars and waited for the prop plane to touch down. What they saw was live versus the slight - two seconds - delay in what the Emperor and those in the War Room saw. Finally, the radio came alive, "Bird is down."

"Roger that Bravo-Two tell us what you see." Not that the men in the War Room needed the narration it just helped.

"Bird is coming to a stop and we've got activity on the tarmac, looks like the door will be to us; we'll have positive ID shortly." The King Air had its port side facing the commandos who were pleased that they wouldn't have to hope for a walk-around to get a positive ID on Castle. He would emerge from the cargo door and be in full view before any of the Semtex was offloaded. "The M35 is on the move now and it looks like one man disappeared into a hangar. Wait one, the door is opening now." Tension filled the air. The commandos hoped there wouldn't be two dozen terrorists inside that would complicate matters. The idea was to kill Castle and destroy the cargo and in the event Castle wasn't there simply to destroy the cargo and hope that the explosion killed everyone. "The Range Rover is hanging back. It might be out of the blast area," complications always arose on operations…

"Sir, Bravo-Two is reporting only that the M35 is near the aircraft. The blast might not take out the Range Rover sir."

"We'll have to chance it. Six hundred pounds of Semtex has a pretty large blast area. We might get lucky with the blast or shrapnel."

"Yes sir," Anna turned back to the presence on the earpiece, "we're still 'Go' Bravo-Two."

"Roger that, looks like they had a forklift in the hangar, it's coming out."

"Darkstar has it."

"Bird door opening, wait one for ID…" The seconds were tense, very tense. The sniper on the team had his laser designator trained on but not illuminating the King Air yet. It would only be at the last moment that he turned on the laser designator, minimizing his position in case anyone had a pair of night vision goggles, which none of the men saw present on anyone's head. Wolfe was watching the plane for positive ID, Dunn was watching the Range Rover, Horton was focused on the M35, and Osbourne was watching the forklift driver and scanning the perimeter of the base. Both Spring and Guerrero were watching their position, making sure no one snuck up on them. When the bomb was released, it would be Horton who would guide it down via laser designation but it would only turn it on at the last moment.

Time passed slowly though it was only seconds until finally Wolfe's voice came back on the earpiece in Anna's ear, "It's him. We've got positive ID."

"Roger that, sir," she turned to the Emperor, "positive ID."

"Very well, Darkstar has my authorization."

"Yes sir, Darkstar you are cleared to release."

"Darkstar copies, releasing in five…four…three…two…one…bomb's away…" Orbiting high over the airstrip, one of the bomb bay doors on the MQ-20A Pegasus snapped open, releasing the laser-guided bomb into the air. Then the doors closed just as quickly and the bomb assumed a nose-down attitude, its guidance fins already deployed, putting the bomb into a subtle rotation that would keep it stabilized during its fall. It passed through a cloud and then continued its descent picking up speed. By the time of impact, the bomb would be exceeding Mach 1 and the noise of its descent would be drowned out by the roar of the explosion it caused. These were a tense forty-five seconds as the commandos watched the scene at the airstrip hoping that everyone close to the plane would remain there.

The forklift was pushing its forks into the pallet after the first fifteen seconds. "Keep the laser on that pallet," Wolfe said to his comms officer but the order wasn't necessary. Horton was already following it with the laser device. A timer in the upper right hand corner, data-linked to the drone ahead, showed the time to impact. As it counted down from thirty, the forklift began to maneuver the pallet out of the plane. It was in the open air at fifteen seconds when he turned on the laser designator and shot a beam right to the pallet.

"Sir, the bomb has acquired the target," Anna said as she watched the bomb correct in the screen. The image on the screen came from the camera in the bomb and as it fell, the targets on the ground grew larger and larger until finally everything went to static. The screen to its right showed the result and this one came from the infrared on the Pegasus. The entire screen flashed with white and then the sensor corrected for the change in light and the men saw the fiery explosion on the ground.

"Direct hit Darkstar," Wolfe said over the channel. "We've got a secondary too." The roar of the explosion hadn't reached them yet but they could see it through their binoculars. The fireball engulfed not only the forklift but the truck, the plane, and the terrorists standing around it, which included Castle. The Range Rover, parked far enough away avoided the fireball but not the concussion wave, which blew it backwards, crumpling the steel and killing those inside. "Range Rover missed the blast but got the concussion," Wolfe narrated, "unknown if occupants survived, the vehicle is on its roof and there's no movement."

"Roger that Bravo-Two, you are go for exfil."

"Ten-four Charlie Papa, pleasure doing business…"

In the War Room, the Emperor stared at the image from the Pegasus. It was still gimbal locked onto the airstrip. "We got them sir," Chairman-General Barnes said as he stood next to the Emperor.

"We did this time. There's more Semtex where this came from and more people like Castle willing to sell it to Al-Shams."

"That there is and that there are sir; vigilance is our best weapon. I have to give it to the tech weenies sir, they pulled this one off but there's nothing their computers can do that will make this kind of result," he said, motioning to the burning wreckage of the plane, the forklift, and the truck. The heat from the explosion was far hotter than anything around and dominating the FLIR image.

"This is a new kind of warfare Chairman-General. Cyber warfare is only a part of the battlefield of the future and we've got to adapt to it, men like you and I, I mean. This isn't about listening to a frequency and hoping to hear the enemy break radio silence anymore. We've got to track them in cyberspace and hit them when we do."

"Sir, so long as we don't forget cyberspace won't produce results like this," Chairman-General Barnes responded.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

January 12, 2015 - 18:00 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Ministry of Information
(32° 50' 7" N, 13° 23' 12" E)

Jasmine Huntsman sat comfortably just away from the air conditioning vent outside of Bassam Mansour's office. Her official job title was intelligence liaison and that was precisely what she did. She might have been on Garza's payroll but for the forty-one year old woman, there was nothing secretive about what she did. She had official cover and she was a registered agent, so to speak, with the Libyan Internal Security Bureau. Part of her job was to work with the Libyan Ministry of Information and be a conduit for information sharing between the two spy agencies. This wasn't her dream job; per say but it was one of the only jobs she could get and not because of her gender or her age. It was because she had been burned only eight months earlier in Windhoek and given Windhoek's anti-Layartebian sentiments as of late, that information surely made its way around the world. Her only hope for a continued career with the Ministry of Intelligence was to either ride a desk until she completed her years of service or take a posting like this and these postings were few and far between. She'd waited five months for it, a surprisingly short amount of time truthfully.

With a loud pop, the lock disengaged on the door and it opened. Bassam Mansour, head of the Libyan External Security Bureau stood there in what she determined to be a relatively new suit. Though she wasn't an agent anymore, her tradecraft was second nature. Part of the reason she'd been picked for this posting was because her tradecraft was so good. Even though she'd been burned, she hadn't been burned to any fault of her own. She'd been burned by a double agent who Windhoek proudly spirited out of harm's way before the Layartebian hammer could come down on him. In this regard, she'd gotten an unfair deal but that's how the cookie crumbled in the spy world. Now she was able to still fight the good fight and in the trenches no less just on a different side of them. Bassam was, in many ways, the greatest foe she'd faced to date. He was a human lie detector, better at observing and interpreting body language than most people were at interpreting their own desire for food and basic, bodily functions. It took all of her concentration to make sure she kept her composure.

"Jasmine, how good to see you," Bassam said in a welcoming way. "Tea?"

"Please," she said as she stepped through the door into his climate-controlled office. His secretary would be in within a minute with tea for her and him, a customary drink for him at this hour and she'd grown fond of it though she was still a coffee woman.

When all was said and done, Bassam sat down in a chair across from her, unbuttoning his suit jacket just before he touched the seat. He crossed his legs and sat back comfortably. It was how he always was, projecting comfort and ease when he was really a calculating machine, studying everything. Jasmine had been well versed and this wasn't her first meeting with the man. She knew precisely when to act in specific ways and how those messages would convey. She wasn't a human lie detector like Bassam was but she knew how to beat lie detectors; in fact, she was top of her class in that exercise. "So let's get down to brass tax," Bassam said when the door was shut. "You Layartebians have been up to no good." He said this jokingly.

"What have we done now Bassam?"

"The airstrip in Zaltan," he said.

"Now you're just projecting," Jasmine answered, "why we thought that was you."

"Me? Us? Hardly. Tell me, how did you get the bomb into the cargo?"

"Actually we're still trying to figure out what happened. Satellites picked up the explosion and we've deduced that two trucks, a forklift, and a plane were involved but that's about all we know. It had to be a big explosion though; the damage is pretty extensive but not a very large crater."

"I'm not so fond of satellites," Bassam said, "they never tell you the whole truth."

"If you had the ones we have you'd think otherwise."

"Perhaps," he said, knowing that if he did have the kind of satellites that the Empire had, he would be fending off questions to use them over his human sources, "but I prefer the old ways."

"So do we, institutionally speaking."

"I'd rather just have your budget. I could recruit half of Al-Shams with that money."

"So what did happen? Was Al-Shams involved?"

"You said it yourself, an explosion at an airstrip involving a plane, two trucks, and a forklift. The forklift is rather mangled badly suggesting it was the center of the explosion."

"Gas powered or electric powered?"

"Propane," Bassam conceded. He'd had men inspect the carnage only twelve hours after it happened. The JSOC commandos hadn't even left Cyrenaica at that time.

"There's a lot of causes for an accident like this though it is certain that explosives were involved. What was the plane carrying?"

"Clever," Bassam said.

"Clever? Bassam we had nothing to do with whatever happened. As I recall we're in this fifty-fifty so if we did anything in Cyrenaica of this magnitude you'd have to have been cut in on the deal. Our Emperor is a man of his word." This left silence in the air for a few moments, which Bassam filled by drinking some of his tea. He was measuring Jasmine's reaction, trying to see if she was lying or not.

"All right I buy that," he said and whether he did or he didn't, he couldn't tell whether Jasmine was lying or not. In truth, she knew nothing about the operation. She hadn't been cut in on the information, only shown the satellite images and the analyst's review. The analyst wasn't cut in on it either so there was no way Jasmine could know what the operation was, which made it easy for her to say she didn't know. That was the arrangement; she was rarely told the truth for fear Bassam might figure it out through his perceptive ways. "Well it appears an ex-mercenary from Hirgizstan named Ken Castle using the alias Jim Suarez was transporting three hundred kilograms of Semtex to Al-Shams. His plane landed and as Al-Shams was offloading the supplies, there was an explosion. The explosion happened roughly two to three meters above the ground, likely as the pallet of explosives was being transported from the plane to the cargo truck. Multiple deaths on the ground, no evidence that anyone survived, including a handful of terrorists in a Range Rover that had been tossed about by the concussion of the explosion."

"So what set it off, was there an accident?"

"We don't know. I had men on the ground but they didn't find any bomb fragments around. Bombs tend to leave a lot of fragments so that ruled out an airstrike. We suspected that your lot put some sort of timed explosive in with the pallet. Something obviously went wrong, not that I am personally complaining."

"Neither are we truthfully if that's the outcome," Jasmine put down her tea, "IDs on the bodies?"

"Not yet, we've got DNA from what we believe are seven individuals. We know Castle is one of them there's just not a lot left of them. We had two bodies in the Range Rover and the rest near the aircraft, well at least near the aircraft before the explosion. I've prepared a packet for you to bring back to your head of station." Bassam didn't know that Garza was the head of station and neither did his counterpart in the LISB, Krim Mahrez. Who they suspected was the head of station was actually just a low-level functionary in the intelligence department, someone designed to look important who wasn't.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to have that information. We've heard some rumblings about a meeting in Derna yesterday."

"Ah yes," Bassam smiled. "So due to Essa's inability to push past Al-Abyar, Cham has been forced to forgo his plans to make Benghazi the capital of Cyrenaica. He only controls the coastline highway and maybe five kilometers south of it. Beyond that is still under Malouf's command and his men are just strong enough to hold the land but weak enough that all they can do is hold it. He still has many men around Al-Abyar holding back Essa's men. Yesterday, Cham, Essa, and Daher met together in Derna at Cham's request.

"Cham wanted to create a loose confederation I am told that would unite the three warlords and their lands into a single, functioning 'state' - though I use that term loosely. Cham would have remained President of Cyrenaica while Essa would have been Vice President. We don't know what role Daher would have played. No agreement happened and my source told me that the three men parted on amicable terms. It is likely they'll remain friends in the capacity they are now but a united Cyrenaica is unlikely."

"Any reaction from Malouf or Bazzi?"

"They weren't aware of the meeting so no," Bassam said. "My sources there informed me that neither warlord was aware and if they had been they wouldn't have had the capacity to stop it. Al-Shams, on the other hand, they could have but we're unaware if they knew about it."

"Talk of Bazzi and Malouf coming to a stronger alliance?"

"Rumors only. If they find out about the Derna meeting I can see a discussion happening. If not then no."

"What part will Al-Shams play?"

"A bigger one than we desire I am sure," Bassam said. "Malouf has already shown that he'll work with them. Bazzi is more neutral to their presence. Al-Shams doesn't need Cham's blessing or friendship to be where they are but they don't want an enemy out of him per say. They'd play a role but I don't see them becoming Malouf's private army. If anything a mercenary force. Malouf isn't a stalwart of Islamic fundamentalism."

"Any idea where Malouf is?"

"He moves around a lot. My sources are close to him to know where he is but by the time they can get word back to me he's moved on somewhere else. We'll get him eventually but he's small fish. We might want to think about leaving him in place."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"It's in the packet but his second-in-command is a bit of a loose cannon who may subscribe to Al-Shams' vision of Islamic fundamentalism with a stiff enough push. Malouf may just be the lesser of two evils."

"Qureshi?"

"Whereabouts unknown."

"All right, well as usual this has been good. What information do you need?"

"It's in the packet," Bassam smiled a toothy grin as he walked out the Layartebian, still unsure whether or not the explosion at the Zaltan airstrip was the work of the Empire. It was too hard to tell from Jasmine who, for all intents and purposes, told him the truth as far as he could read and he prided himself on knowing when someone was lying to him or being truthful.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

January 16, 2015 - 11:30 hrs [UTC+2]
Tripoli, Kingdom of Libya
Layartebian Embassy
(32° 53' 37" N, 13° 11' 38" E)

George Garza leaned back in his chair as he plopped the file onto the clean top of his desk. Seated across from him was Jasmine Huntsman, fresh from another meeting with Bassam Mansour where once again stalemate was declared in the never-ending game of human lie detector. "I guess we were expecting this sooner or later," George said. Jasmine only nodded her head and made a mental note to adjust her pantyhose once she was out of the meeting. This particular pair had a habit of falling down on her and she couldn't remember why she didn't just toss the pair. "What'd Bassam say that he didn't say?"

"It's obvious that he's got several men highly placed within Malouf's organization. I can't tell if he has anyone high up in Bazzi's but I'd bet he did. He inferred that Al-Shams had 'sat the meeting out' but I could tell that they were there. He didn't say it in his briefing or in his report but I could see it in his eyes, Al-Shams had representation."

"It'd serve Al-Shams' best interest to stay neutral in the power bloc but also to have some sort of representation to protect their investment so to speak. Cham obviously knew about Al-Shams' involvement in Benghazi but it hasn't seemed to alter his thinking. SIGINT picked up a phone call he made three days ago to his contact or handler, whichever you want to call it, in Al-Shams. It seems everything is hunky dory between them. This leaves Al-Shams as a neutral third party to the power blocs, Malouf and Bazzi in one corner and Cham, Essa, and Daher in the other. Sooner or later it just had to happen," George said again, just to rethink the line.

"Bassam asked about the Zelten situation again. I told him I didn't have any new information. Am I lying?"

"No," George answered smartly, "as far as I'm concerned it was a fortunate accident. Once in a while luck favors the good guys too. Let's hope he eventually just drops it. He's persistent but there's nothing we can explain to the man. He's got men all throughout Cyrenaica so if he doesn't know we sure as hell don't know."

"All right just so I'm prepared the next time around."

"You're doing fine Jasmine," George smiled. "Long way from the battlefields but you didn't get lucky in Windhoek."

"I just wish I knew who burned me."

"So do the CI guys but I doubt you'll ever find out, even if they do. CI operates in their own bubble most of the time. I've known a few of them over the years, real shifty people. How are you adjusting to your role here?"

"It's a challenge. Bassam's a smart adversary."

"He's a tricky SOB. He's probably the best in this entire country though I wouldn't sleep on Krim Mahrez who runs the domestic side of things. The two of them together make a dynamic duo that no spy network can topple."

"Well just the same," Jasmine began, "if we have a file on Bassam I think I'd like to review it. I've had a few meetings with the man and I can't see any tell whatsoever. Since he's my 'primary foe,' so to speak, I think I'd like to read up on him as much as I can."

"Sure, make the requisition and I'll sign off on it but I am going to warn you, the file is pretty thin. He did his time abroad over the years, working foreign intelligence in Cyrenaica over the years and not just spy business, wet work too. We've got nothing but bullet points on the man that's it. Fill in the details and they'll make you a director back home," George joked.

"I'll set my goals a little lower than uncovering his life's story," Jasmine said fully aware that Bassam wasn't the kind of agent to fall for the wiles of a woman. Too many men in the world fell easily for a woman's charm and that was part of the nature of their work. They kept everything so bottled up and most were so detached from their own wives or girlfriends, unable to speak to them about their work, that a mistress or an affair was just the type of confession they needed. More than one female agent had been able to discern top secret information just by sleeping with a lonely, bottled up man who wanted nothing more than to feel important to someone, even if it was a mistress, a prostitute, or a one-night stand. Women had an unfair advantage in the spy business and Jasmine had played that role before but those days were long gone now. She didn't have any false visions of bravado seducing Bassam or really any of the men in the Libyan intelligence services. Her only visions had to do with retirement, a pension, and a small farm to breed dogs.

She left George's office and found her way to the nearest ladies room where, according to her mental note, she adjusted her pantyhose. She replaced the one note with another to toss the pair when she got back to her residence. The elasticity on the waist band had gone out from one too many uses and like most nylons, these weren't meant to be used for very long. They were made cheaply and sold cheaply for this particular purpose. It made sense to buy the cheaper pairs and toss them when they weren't useful anymore rather than spend money on the more expensive ones, which ripped and ran just as easily.

Later that afternoon, with Bassam's file on her desk, she leaned back in her chair, kicked off her heels, and put her feet on her desk. She spent thirty-five minutes combing through the file only to realize that it truly was Spartan. Useless, as George had explained, the file would ultimately go back into a secure cabinet and remain there until someone else thought they could add or deduce something from it. By then it was nearly 16:00 hours and she looked out of the window towards the Mediterranean Sea just three kilometers to the west and fixed her hair into a neat ponytail. Thinking she could use a beach day she had to remind herself that even in Libya, where it was desert and ridiculously hot, it was still cool in January. The temperature outside was mid-60s today and the sea's temperature was only in the low 60s yet. It would warm up of course but it was still just January. Sighing, she looked around her office and recognized that there was little left to accomplish for the day and so she resolved to turning in early, perhaps with a cup of tea and a good book.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

January 16, 2015 - 16:20 hrs [UTC+2]
Gulf of Sidra
38 nautical miles NW of Benghazi
(32° 21' 10" N, 19° 21' 32" E)

While Jasmine was closing up her office, the ILNS Hellfire (SSN-820), a Seawolf Flight II class nuclear-powered attack submarine was slowly working its way through the Gulf of Sidra. At a depth of 800 feet and a speed of five knots, the submarine was nothing but a hole in the water in terms of its noise signature. The Seawolf's reactor could utilize natural circulation to avoid using its reactor coolant pumps when it was operating at low power. Creeping along at five knots it was using only a fraction of its reactor's power making the conditions ideal, which was beneficial. Not more than two hours earlier, the submarine had crept past a Royal Libyan Navy patrol craft on an anti-submarine patrol.

The submarine was under the command of Captain Bill Fajardo, an experienced sub driver who'd commanded the Hellfire for two years now. His crew was top rate and they'd won two awards already for readiness and crew ratings. It was why CAPT Fajardo and the Hellfire had been tapped for this insertion. Skulking along deep beneath the waves of the Gulf of Sidra, the Seawolf Flight II class submarine was doing what it did best, sneaking up to an enemy coastline for the purpose of deploying special agents. The entire Flight II class was built for special operations and this was just one of its many duties.

CAPT Fajardo had been on the Conn for several hours now and he had largely been just a presence, quiet but overlooking his crew as they went about their duties. He had confidence in them but he also knew everything that they were doing because if they did something wrong, his ass would be roasted on the spit of scapegoat. "Nav how much further?"

"We've got thirty-two nautical miles until we run out of floor skipper and another six after that until we run out of water," replied the navigation officer. That meant in thirty-two nautical miles they wouldn't be in water that was barely over 150 feet deep. It was six nautical miles to the coastline from there and this was as far as they were going to get.

"That'll just have to do for the swimmers," CAPT Fajardo answered as he returned to his position. He looked over at a panel and saw that the depth of the water was just over 3,400 feet. They had plenty of water underneath them but they didn't need it. Moving at five knots at 800 feet depth they were not only below the layer but crawling. They were moving just quickly enough that their towed sonar array, which was floating above the layer half of a mile behind the submarine, was able to maintain its buoyancy.

The swimmers to CAPT Fajardo were three nameless men sequestered in the submarine's diving compartment mid-ship. What distinguished the Seawolf Flight II from the Flight I was an additional 100-ft section of hull that added 2,500 tons to the displacement of the submarine. The section was strictly for special operations equipment included remote operated vehicles and a dedicated interface for divers. On other submarines divers generally swam out of the torpedo tubes, a claustrophobic experience for anyone uninitiated in the experience. The Flight II could also be used to tap undersea cables and special equipment was included for such a task. It was why the Flight II was preferable for inserting commandos as it could do so quietly. For the three commandos in the dive tank, stealth was beyond preferable.

The three of them belonged to another obscure unit of JSOC's Black Operations Command, the 12th Black Operations Group, otherwise known as "Force Shadow." It was based out of Guantanamo in Cuba and its entire staff consisted of just sixty-five persons, twenty-seven of whom were operators, the rest being support staff. Those twenty-seven men and women were arranged in three, nine-man platoons with three, three-man squads - known as cells - per platoon. The job of Force Shadow was the kind of job that even the darkest corners of JSOC refused to acknowledge, terrorism - not fighting it, committing it. To fight terrorism, JSOC had a number of units, to conduct terrorism, JSOC had one unit and Force Shadow was it.

The three men in the swim tank were from Charlie Cell, Alpha Platoon. In just a little while, six nautical miles from the coastline, they would swim out of the 453 foot long submarine and engage their handheld thrusters, which would propel them at two knots until they were one nautical mile from the beach. At that point they would ditch the thrusters in any crevices they could find and swim the rest of the way on their own. To get them their they didn't go out with SCUBA gear but rather rebreathers that offered four hours of breathing time, just enough to get them ashore. Once there, they would ditch their equipment by burying it rapidly. Then they would move off the beach and make their way into Benghazi proper where an agent with the Ministry of Intelligence would provide them with access to a safe house. Another agent would retrieve the buried gear the next evening and bring offshore on a fishing boat where another boat, likely from the submarine, would retrieve the gear for future missions. In the process, the thrusters would be retrieved as well though that would be a bit more painstaking since it would be impossible to mark their locations easily underwater with no visibility.

The three men who would be deploying had rather normal names. Josh Cooper was the cell's leader and he had with him Randy Williams and David Pierce except these names were useless in Benghazi, where the three men would stand out like sore thumbs if they used them. Instead they would go by their cover names, Yazid for Josh, Tahsin for Randy, and Hilal for David, names that were picked at random for the men who spoke fluent Arabic with an accent and a dialect that made them sound Egyptian, acceptable in Cyrenaica. They would be a long-term team in Benghazi, a contingency plan in case a particular brand of wetwork was needed in Benghazi. Their brand of terrorism could spark a rift between Cham's alliance bloc and Al-Shams, especially if Cham were led to believe that Al-Shams was launching its own tactics against him to help Malouf's bloc. It was just one of several plans being put into place and kept from the Libyan's. The Empire of Layarteb wanted a multitude of options available and it certainly had the resources to see that any of them were put into practice.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

January 16, 2015 - 21:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

Sitting at his desk, the Emperor looked past the tumbler of scotch and to the two men sitting in front of him, the first behind his National Security Advisor, Robert Crawford and the second being Major General Sam Baker, who led JSOC's Black Operations Command. MG Baker wasn't in his uniform but rather a suit and a tie and though he did this to "look civilian" he had military written all over him as he sat ramrod straight in the chair and looked towards the Emperor. "I guess now that we're comfortable and satiated with drink it's time we begin. Robert if you don't mind."

"Yes sir," he retrieved a single file folder from his briefcase, which was covered with markings promising a long and painful incarceration for sharing the file. A number at the bottom indicated that Robert Crawford was in possession of only the second of five copies. "This is Operation CHARLIE PALADIN. Early this morning, a 3-man unit was inserted via submarine off of the coast of Benghazi. They have since made their way ashore, hid their gear, linked up with an asset of the Ministry of Intelligence, and been moved to Suluq, approximately thirty miles south of the airport.

"Suluq is where we believe Malouf is presently hiding and it's the job of this team to locate him, track his whereabouts, and assassinate him in such a manner as it appears Al-Shams is responsible for his killing. This will hopefully generate a rift in the Al-Shams/Malouf-Bazzi bloc."

"Sir we've had this contingency plan on the table for a while. It's just been our lock that Al-Shams and Malouf finally inked the deal sir. We've modified the plan slightly to fit the current parameters," added MG Baker.

"Do we know where Bazzi is at present?"

"Sir we believe he's in Ajdabiya, which seems to be his preferred location. He has two wives and a large compound there. Our analysis indicates that Bazzi is not a necessary target. Bazzi's bloc alliance with Malouf is more out of convenience. He holds more territory but Malouf has more guns, that sort of arrangement. Al-Shams is just a third-party to their problems. With Malouf out of the picture we might see one of two things happen: the clan tears itself to pieces or Bazzi moves in to take over the clan.

"First scenario isn't that likely sir. They survived Safar's death decently enough without the kind of bloodshed we could have expected. Malouf on the other hand has no clear successor just the same and the men who were jockeyed out of position by him would come back with a vengeance to claim power. Bazzi's men coming in would be well positioned to absorb the Malouf Clan into his," MG Baker answered.

"So more or less we have 'terrorists' in Suluq is what you're saying?"

"Yes sir that is their job, terrorism. They've been trained using all of the information we've captured and formulated over the years fighting insurgencies and Islamic terrorism. They're entirely deniable and they're not on the books sir. To us they're the 12th Black Operations Group otherwise known as 'Force Shadow' but to them they're merely just a unit of sixty-five men - and women sir - who do the job for us."

"Very well Major General. Robert outside of keeping me informed what further did you need out of me from this meeting?"

"Authorization to look into some high-levels arm's transfers sir; my office got wind that Al-Shams may have acquired twenty brand-new Igla-S launchers and missiles. They might be using them to target airliners in the region if they're in possession or to defend against helicopter-borne raids by JSOC. It'll require liaising with our partners in Europe sir and not just our October Alliance allies."

"Where would they have got them from?"

"Looking into that precisely sir, that's what we need to find out. First we need to substantiate the rumor and then track it down. It's better handled through my office than through the MoI. We would turn it over to the MoJ in time."

"Fine it's authorized," said the Emperor, giving his NSA the authorization to begin a multinational investigation into whatever arm's smuggling Al-Shams got into that gave them Igla-S missiles. The prospect of those SAMs in their hands was truly catastrophic.

---

• • •

[Layarteb]

January 18, 2015 - 14:45 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Layarteb City IAP Terminal 4
(40° 38' 34" N, 73° 46' 44" W)

Several hundred men, women, and children milled about Gate 6 in Terminal 4 at Layarteb City International Airport. They were a mix of businessmen and families going on vacation and in just a short while they would be boarding a Air Layarteb Model 003-100 bound for Tripoli. The massive jetliner had only just arrived from Tripoli some ninety minutes earlier and it had taken the better part of the first forty-five minutes for the nearly five hundred and fifty passengers to get off of the aircraft and for the past forty-five minutes, the airplane was being rapidly tended to by dozens of men and women both inside and outside of its cabin. Outside, maintenance workers were feverishly fueling the aircraft, loading luggage, fixing and replacing random pieces of the aircraft that required it, stocking the galleys, cleaning the toilets, refilling the water containers, and so on and so forth. Inside, the fourteen flight attendants from the first flight were working with the fourteen flight attendants from the current flight to clean the interior of the cabin. Workers were assisting them just the same. In the cockpit, the pilot, the co-pilot, and the navigator were all going through their preflight checks.

At the gate, the collective impatience of so many people just wanting to get onboard to secure some overhead space for their carry-on luggage was beginning to reach that level where people crowded in front of the desk just itching to get aboard, even before their group number was called. For Dr. Harvey Keller, PhD it was nothing new and he merely ignored it as he sat in a comfortable seat leafing through the pages of the a 1950s science fiction novel. A second - and much larger - book was in his carry-on luggage for the remainder of the trip as he fully expected to finish this one on the flight over to North Africa. For him, getting onboard was no issue whatsoever. He was one of thirty-four passengers sitting in first-class and his seat was in row four on the aircraft's port side. Above him would be the cockpit. Behind the cockpit there would be forty passengers in business class. Then behind both the first-class and the business-class sections there would be another one hundred and four passengers in economy-plus. They paid a little extra to get some more legroom and premium content on their inflight entertainment devices. The remaining three hundred and sixty-six passengers would be flying in simple economy-class. That accounted for five hundred and forty-four passengers, nearly a full flight.

"Good afternoon," a voice came over the loudspeaker, "and welcome to Air Layarteb Flight 7251 with non-stop service to Tripoli, Libya. In just a few moments we're going to begin our pre-boarding. Would the following passengers on standby please approach the desk," from here she read four names and Harvey watched as four men, two in military uniform, approached the counter and formed two lines for the two gate agents. Within five minutes, all four were booked onto the flight and given the last boarding group - tough luck on your carry-on bags - and the pre-boarding process began. Pre-boarding for Air Layarteb was always a pleasure if you qualified. This got you onto a plane even before first-class passengers and to be eligible you needed to be a child traveling alone, have small children, require assistance via a walker, a wheelchair, or some other device, or be a person in uniform - good job standby passengers for flying in uniform.

That took all of five minutes as a dozen people made their way through three jet ways because that was how big this aircraft was and onto the plane. From there it was "Premier Customers," which meant you flew on Air Layarteb nearly exclusively and a lot. Harvey qualified, which was why he was flying first-class. Because of all of the flying he'd done over his career he'd acquired a lot of miles. He flew on first-class now for a mere deduction in miles rather than actual currency. Grabbing his carry-on briefcase, he stood with his book underneath his armpit and strode up to the counter along with three other men, all in business suits. "Mister Keller," the gate agent said after taking the ticket, "that you for returning to Air Layarteb." He didn't have to tell her that he was flying on official, governmental business for a multitude of reasons but among them being the discount program offered for official flights and the secrecy around his trip. "You're all set have a comfortable flight."

"Thank you," he said with a smile as he passed onto the jetway and began to walk towards the airplane, which loomed in the windows like a massive beast. Within a few minutes he was seated in his "pod" because that was what it was with his shoes off, his paperback in his hands, a cold water on the tray, and lost in the world of Mars while men and women came and went around him.

Air travel had long since departed what it had been in the 50s and the 60s when flying was the eighth wonder of the world but Air Layarteb was still doing better than most of the competition. In the day and age where airlines were more concerned with maximizing fuel economy and saving weight to avoid steadily rising oil prices and increasingly expensive airplanes, Air Layarteb was holding true to some of the old luxuries. Economy seating on a domestic flight was slightly better than the competition and you didn't have to pay for in-flight meals or beverages, save for alcohol. International flights did even better. Economy in international was what business was for many of the competition carriers' domestic flights. You were crammed of course but not nearly as horribly as you were on other carriers. The meals were of a higher quality, not quite the silver plate service they were once upon a time but you weren't getting a piece of stale bread and seven peanuts. The alcohol wasn't watered down and the "house wines" weren't bargain bottles from the reject bin.

There was also something else that appealed to travelers, though more for the men than the women. In the day and age of equal opportunity, Air Layarteb was no violator of this policy but it had a subtle policy of encouraging pretty, young women to become stewardesses. The airline had a five-to-one ratio of women stewardesses to male stewards company wide and there was no push to change that one bit. To make matters more appealing to men, their uniforms still accentuated the fact that they were women. The standard fare was a skirt just above knee-length that was green and a white blouse. Flesh-toned pantyhose were required and while high heels weren't required they were encouraged. Of course no one was stupid enough to wear stilettos but a two-inch wide heel was a common sight. No stewardess flew without a pair of ballet flats or sneakers though, especially on the long-haul flights.

Above all though, something Air Layarteb really had over the other airlines was the courtesy it extended the passengers. The company didn't profess to operate a bus service or view passengers merely as bodies in seats. The finance department did but they didn't set company policy. Air Layarteb saw passengers as guests in a way not unlike a hotel. Flight attendants were encouraged to do everything possible to see to the comfort of the passengers and sure, rowdy, unruly, and rude passengers happened and they were dealt with firmly but by and large, this wasn't the airline where you got on and were yelled at from the moment you buckled in until the moment you passed through the door. Customer service, courtesy, amenities, comfort, and of course a healthy contract with the Layartebian government made Air Layarteb a very profitable airline so that it could spend a little extra on passengers.

Harvey had remarked this a few times in his many travels but not so much this afternoon. He had an eight and a quarter hour flight ahead of him that would skip across seven time zones. His body would tell him that it was midnight when he landed but in truth it would be seven in the morning. He was no stranger to these long-haul flights. Despite being just shy of forty-two, he was a man who'd flown more miles than most families combine in their entire lives. When he entered the military at eighteen in July 1992 he knew he wasn't destined for combat. He was scrawny and he wasn't a fighter so he chose the navy and decided to put his brain to use; after all, he'd been the class valedictorian in high school. He scored perfectly on the ASVAB and so he was given his choice of assignments. For him it was intelligence, more specifically the CINCLANT Intelligence Office. After four years he was a petty officer second class with a nearly perfect career, a bachelor's degree in political science, and a calling to stay in as a reservist just so he could have the government pay for his master's degree, which it did. He served in the navy reserve until mid-2000 when, as a chief petty officer, he took his retirement and entered the civilian world.

By then he had his master's degree in international relations and he was in a doctorate program for the same field. He'd been working at Layarteb City University as an assistant professor in their political science department for four years and he was promoted to associate professor. In 2004, after eight years in academia he had tenure, a doctorate, the title of professor, and he was the chairman of the political science department. Over the next six years, he would frequently work as an advisor to the government in international relations and he chaired a few dozen committees and groups on policy reviews and academic papers. However, in March 2010 he was approached by an old boss from his days in the navy who was retired, drawing his pension for twenty-plus years of military service, and working in a very small office at Governors Island.

On July 3, 2010, after he'd finished the academic year and closed out his office, Harvey left the civilian world and reentered government service in the Executive Office of National Security. Its boss was the Layartebian National Security Advisor, Harvey's old boss, Captain Bob Wagner, ILN, Retired. His deputy was Robert Crawford, who'd only done two years of military service before injury put him back at home but over the years Crawford worked to a master's degree and in 2013 he ascended to the position vacated by the late Bob Wagner who'd died of lung cancer, a lifelong chain-smoker. Crawford had always been impressed with Harvey who'd been working as deputy director of the intelligence programs department. He offered Harvey his own department and the title of senior director but he'd have to move to counterterrorism. Harvey accepted and that was where he'd been since. He was going to be the next Deputy National Security Advisor upon either Crawford's vacancy of the lead position or the current deputy's retirement, which could come sooner than the former.

Harvey wanted the job and he wanted the top job as well and not because he was overly ambitious but rather because he liked the new Emperor more than he liked the First Emperor. The previous Emperor had been, in his estimation, too much of a hawk and he frequently criticized the man throughout his tenure in academia though only after he left the navy reserves. This brought a bit of humorous irony when he took the job in 2010 but the Emperor, who'd been well-versed in Harvey's objections, didn't object the appointment. In fact, the Emperor had not only met personally with Harvey shortly after his acceptance of the job but expressed his personal confidence that Harvey's intelligence and background was precisely what the office needed. Not once did the Emperor censure, block, or ignore one of Harvey's reports only making Harvey slightly annoyed with himself for judging the man too soon though he never backed off on his criticism that the Emperor was too quick to engage in battle. Two policy debates, informal of course, between the two men had ended in stalemate and not because either gave in to the other but simply because they'd debated their positions to the wall. Harvey had not expected this of the elder statesman but conceded respect where it was due.

Now with the old Emperor gone, his whereabouts unknown to the public - and even the government - a new man had risen to the office and Harvey had great respect for Emperor Wright, having had it before the man was ever given the title of Emperor of Layarteb. When Crawford had suggested that Harvey be the one to investigate Al-Shams' acquisition of Igla-S missiles, which was more the job of the nonproliferation people than the counterterrorism people, the Emperor had said, "I wouldn't have approved anyone else." That sealed the deal and put Harvey on a plane to Libya with barely any notice. His wife of fourteen years wouldn't mind though his son, at the tender age of ten, had certainly protested the trip. Harvey would need to bring back something good for him, so long as he behaved himself in Harvey's absence.

Yet the man's history wasn't on his mind. He was more focused with whether or not the rocket was going to crash land on Mars because the computer system had a fault or if the hero of the story would save the landing. He was only midway through the book so it promised plenty more. For a man of his intelligence and stature, these ridiculous books were for him a subtle escape to the past, to the golden age of science fiction, when no limits such as technological, financial, or political existed to tell writers, "That isn't possible!" When the plane took off at precisely 15:45, he merely leaned back a little and flipped the pages until they finally reached cruising altitude and the captain came over the loudspeaker, then he put the book down and listened. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Air Layarteb Flight 7251. My name is Donald Rocha and I'll be your captain for this flight. In the cockpit with me is Margaret Tucker and our navigator Charles Elias. We're looking at an eight and a half hour flight to Tripoli this afternoon landing around seven in the morning local time. We'll be cruising at an altitude of thirty-nine thousand feet and there is one low pressure system over the North Atlantic that we're going to be avoiding on our way to Libya. We might experience some intermittent turbulence over the ocean so I'm going to be leaving the fasten seatbelt sign on for the duration of the flight.

"Please feel free to use the restroom at any time. Our flight crew will be serving beverages and meals and they will be up and about the cabin to help with your needs. We ask that you do not linger about the aisles and that when you are seated you please fasten your seatbelts as we cannot always predict when we'll hit turbulence. Thank you and enjoy the flight." Harvey looked out of the window at the gray, scattered clouds below. The day had been cold with some light snow in the early morning and a maximum temperature in the high 20s. He would be landing to forties and sixties in Tripoli, a nice jump in weather and while rain was in the forecast for some days of the week, it always beat snow.

For him, for the flight, it was a time of relaxation. The classified material he would need to conduct his investigation was already at the embassy, sent over both in a diplomatic pouch and over the secure channels of the embassy's intelligence section. For now all he flew with was his clothes and personal toiletries in his checked luggage and what non-classified material he carried with him in his carry-on luggage, including two novels and his personal computer, which though it contained classified material was protected by a very powerful encryption system, which included remote kill abilities.

When the stewardess came around to offer beverages he exchanged his water for bourbon on the rocks and settled in for the meal, a good offering of chicken with rice, a side salad, a small desert, and coffee, which he passed on because he wanted to sleep, which he would do for the final five hours of the flight.

---

• • •