Bleeding stars [FT, Laptev Axis]

[Greater Kuntree]

Preamble

The mighty nation of Greater Kuntree had gone from bad to worse. Ever since the glorious leader, Ricky 'Dick' Line, had made that fateful decision to invade the Jade Empire of Ingen, things had been deteriorating, and fast.
The invasion had been an embarrassment. The numerically and technologically superior Kuntrians had descended upon the territories of the Empire like a plague, and had suddenly found their weapons useless, rendered null by some obscure ancient technology. Instead of prudently pulling back and settling in for a blockade, Dick had urged on the attack, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of troops at the hands of the better equipped, more experienced Imperial soldiers. When allied forces from across Laptev and beyond had arrived to assault the enemy fleet, the battle had turned into a rout, ending in the capture and execution of their leader, and shortly afterwards Greater Kuntree had been wiped from the galactic stage.

Now, years later, they had found a new home in the NS-Verse. They had found Laptev again, but it was inhabited by space-faring powers with no knowledge of what had happened in the FB-Verse, so the mighty Dick the Younger had decided in his wisdom to leave them alone.

Since then, Kuntree had been slowly limping along, trying to rebuild, and a healthy indoctrination programme which saw most of the population revering Dick the Younger as a fourth member of the Holy Trinity, the new country had slowly flourished, or at least accumulated a lot of material possessions of dubious worth.

Kuntrian Intelligence Agency HQ, Cytee

The KIA had just picked up new information, which by all records was actually several weeks or even months old. The Laptev Axis was back, and with a vengeance. Rumours of Katasian warships, Imaginariumese secret agents, Ystovian commissars and even that hated Ingenious commander Avery Johnson, were spreading through KIA circles like wildfire, and those old enough to remember the disastrous invasion of Ingen were already beginning to quietly request transfers or book out-system holidays for themselves and their families.

Desk of Line

Dick the Younger was at his desk, writing poetry. It was beautiful, moving stuff, guaranteed to bring a tear to the eye of anyone who tried to read it, mainly because of the squint necessary to read his torturous handwriting. A KIA agent shuffled nervously inside, slipping a report onto his desk. Waving the man away with one hand, not looking up, it took Dick a full thirty minutes to finally get around to reading the report. When he did, he screamed with rage, ordering his guards to literally shoot the messenger before picking up the phone, renamed in Kuntrian parlance to the 'Teledimensional Talk-Stick', and beginning to relay orders.

Laptev System

At the very outskirts of the Laptev System, a single probe unit shot towards the automated outer defenses...

[Pordlandia]

Laptev:
Local Rift:

A number of Grazhni Chornalshi type rift cruisers edge forth through the rift, deliberate in their movements and purpose, aiming simply to complete their most recent leg of the patrol route that they've been assigned. It is a practice that is all-to-common within the High Hunter's Navy; the vast fleets of rift ships patrolling to and fro through the sickly realm, keeping an eye on the day-to-day happenings and occurrences of the myriad verses in which Pords reside... And even in some in which they don't. It is perhaps a routine born out of the paranoia of the High Hunters, but in all reality, it is likely something that is ingrained deep within the Pordish psyche itself. And yet... It is only the nature of the rift that makes this possible. Without the laws of the realm and the relative distances and the like, such an ambitious intelligence program would not be possible. But fortunately for Nalydya, such things do exist, and they allow her to patrol and maintain presences in a wide range of locales...

And so here this vessel-grouping, some two or three (actually, in all likelihood, closer to three or four ships) is but an ordinary patrol group. These are the ships that patrol the local rift in the relative vicinity to the Laptev Star System - a powerful beacon of martial and economic might that has defied the fleets and armies of invaders for time immemorial. Because of this, things of great interest usually don't happen in the area (for the most part, anyway). Most ship-crews regard being assigned to patrol the rift local to Laptev a slow and boring assignment, although realistically, there isn't much that happens elsewhere either. Most things that do... Tend to be of greater scale.

DritteJloknam Tyzhaq Müchyk is on the bridge when the sensors operator detects it. Rapid referencing with on-board material quickly reveals nothing of relevance. For once, it seems, something is happening.

"Do we have any more information on that?"

"No, captain. It appears to be a probe of some sort, but that's all we've been able to ascertain."

"Track it. We'll need to bounce this one off of VRZ Command, Laptev. Communications?"

"Tasi, nam-DritteJloknam?"

"Get in contact with VRZ Command, Laptev. Notify them of this probe and give them the details that we've uncovered."

The last comment draws a few stifled grins. Not much had been discerned.

"Tasinehdao!"

"Bring us around some five degrees starboard," he orders, standing from his seat. "Bring us up some c-fracs."

The sheets of water cascading down the rear of the chamber (nearly masking the far wall) respond intuitively to the change in speed and direction, spraying the Pords whose stations are the rear-most on the bridge with a light, chilly mist. But the Pords seem to not mind, almost as if they didn't notice. Perhaps this would be because the water itself is marginally warmer than the room whose icy interiour hovers near freezing. Or maybe they've grown used to it, and have adopted an ability to take it in stride. Regardless, as the vessel heels over and accelerates, a singular message is relayed from rift to VRZ Command, Laptev, detailing the probe and just what had been detected from it. As per standard procedure, the other, relevant, space-faring residents of the planet are sent the information as well so that all parties remain well-informed of just what is going on in the extremities of the Laptev System.

[Fraconia 666]

Palace of Everlasting Fire, Laptev


Lord Blackfyre watched the ball to commemorate the establishment of the Fraconiann presence on Laptev with an air of disinterest. Such things always bored her, though she did enjoy the sweet music which reverberated across the Macabre and the fine masks that honored guests wore. To and fro they would dance across the oynx floors all night long, and then retire to their homes drunk, tired, and with passions inflamed. Duty was her only passion; the only thing that made her heart warm on a cool night such as this.

She motioned for her glass of gin to be refilled as she lit a cigar made of premium Frankish tobacco. Not bothering for a light as she lit the tip with her index finger. She noticed an Atkan couple looking at her with disgust; such people were even more formal than the Fraconians and far looser in morals than any people in the Commonwealth beyond the Franks. When her gin arrived she gave them a salute, and chuckled as they seemed to fume with rage. They would have likely done more had they not suddenly noticed her admiral's insignia beneath her long grey cloak.

As the dancers twirled and spun in utmost finery Erwilian appeared in stark contrast in his plain captain's jacket. Blackfyre, sensing trouble, downed her drink and proceeded towards him. Taking any opportunity she could to escape from this positively boring evening. Erwilian's expression revealed nothing, though Blackfyre knew that he would not have dared come to this den of decadence unless it had not been a matter of utmost importance.

Erwilian whispered into her ear. Blackfyre's heart quickened, and she clapped Erwilian on the shoulder with a firm grip. Leading him to the exit as the tempo of the music quickened.

"Ah, most interesting..."

With that the two of them headed off to the Port to catch a shuttle bound for the Fury; flagship of the 8th Flotilla. Blackfyre had purchased the command from a retiring Baron in desperate need of cash. The unit was a rag-tag formation which comprised the worst misfits the Fraconian Defense Fleet had to offer. Which was quite unusual as the Fraconians prided themselves on being more disciplined than their Frankish affairs.

Blackfyre had not spared the rod, and discipline had improved somewhat, but her command was relatively green. Never before seeing action worth noting beyond garrisoning the frontier. In this terrible time of peace it was getting harder and harder to find a chance to bloody them. She had spoken to her superiors about leading an expedition against the Uruti but that had been declined. Instead she and her command had wound up on Laptev with nothing to do but drill, patrol, drill, patrol, drill, patrol, and as a reward another lengthy drill.

The Zendgraaf was there to greet her as protocol dictated. The two did not get along; admirals and Zendgraafs rarely did. Yet for professional courtesy, Blackfyre gave him a smile which revealed her somewhat serrated teeth.

"Have you heard the news?"

"Yes. A probe it would seem that a Pordish patrol chanced upon."

"Interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"Very, though I don't think that it will be much to alarm us."

"Perhaps," Blackfyre admitted as they strode through numerous chambers, "though one can never tell. Do we have a make and model of the probe? It's country of origin"

"None have showed up on our database, though I am awaiting the response from our comrades in the Axis."

"Aye, that would be most delightful to solve this mystery. Hopefully it'll take awhile, I'd hate to get back to that cesspit down below."

"Not likely, but I'll wish you best of luck on that. Balls can be a most dreadful thing."

"Aye, that they can be."

Blackfyre, seeing her Admiral's quarters, bid the Zendgraaf adieu and hastened to confer with her captains. The room was thick with tobacco smoke. There were more young faces than old ones; purchasing a command in the 8th could be done cheaply so long as one could provide the capital for a warship and the capital to maintain it.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen," as Blackfyre poured herself a gin, "let's get cracking. Do the lads feel ripe for another drill"

"Yes, Admiral, I am sure we could motivate them with an extra ration of brandy as a reward. Why exactly?"

"Apparently our Pordish brethren located a probe, um" she pulled up a hovermap revealing the precise coordinates, "here."

"Ah. So do you expect anything to come of it?"

"Not very likely, but anything's possible. I'm sure you're familiar with probe warfare, as you not? It was a standard practice at that time when Laptev dominated FB-1."

"But there is only one. Those nations usually employed millions of probes to establish an FTLi ring extending several AU around."

"Aye, most likely this is an exploratory probe. But it will do. I want the lads drilling within," Blackfyre looked at her watch, "20 minutes. Alright, any questions?"

A terrible silence followed; most of the captains here had been expecting a good night's rest after a series of drills aiming to improve gunnery, target acquisition, discipline under fire, keeping formation, combat procedure, search and rescue, damage control, and a host of other necessary procedures when the dogs of war had been loosed.

"Dismiss."

As they left she downed her gin and looked at the probe once more which was hovering before her. She then proceeded to laugh at the apparent crudeness of it. It had to be an exploratory probe; but it would do to give the lads another chance to drill in case on day false alarms might actually ring true.

[Imaginarium]

Solntse Odin- Laptev Orbit

High above the surface of Laptev, the mighty Imaginariumese space station Solntse Odin monitored life below on the planet, and out beyond the stars. Serving as a first port of call for special traffic arriving for the Socialist Republics, it also housed a vast number of government officials and armed forces, who monitored the arrival of migrants and visitors.

One such official was Commander Georgi Schennikov, a middle aged man of moderate height and looks, whose career through the ranks had been rather standard. He had served in the special fleet during the bombardment of Regnium as a private, promoted during the destruction of the Royalist Kingdom, and finally provided with command of his own unit on Solntse Odin.

Having arrived back on the station from a bi monthly recruitment drive in the Motherland, the Commander had been summoned by a young ensign in the radar and monitoring station of the station. Georgi had wanted to catch his breath in his personal cabin before resuming duties, but chose to make his way directly to the work station. As he made his way through the busy station, Georgi passed comrades who gave pleasant greetings. As he entered monitoring work station, the young ensign stood to attention, clearly excited by the news he had to tell.
“Tovarishch Komandir, welcome back. How was the recruitment?”

“Ah, rather boring Tovarishch, you know how they are. National service may provide us with the soldiers, but we still have to appeal to the masses and make our institute ‘exciting’…what’s more exciting than space travel?”

“Nothing Komandir, it’s only through our exploration that we can advance our people and achieve the glories of Communism!”

“Yes Tovarishch, we all know the ideologue. What was so important that I came up here as soon as I landed?”

“We’ve received a reading from the outer system monitors…a probe…”

“That is nothing out of the ordinary ensign…”

“No, I know sir, but this probe is old…I mean, really old. Old school technology. And…well Komandir…from what I understand, from all my knowledge on the subject, and from research on the entsiklopediya, it comes from the FB Universe.”

“Interesting…very interesting…” Georgi leaned in over the computer systems “Any idea where it’s from? There were a lot of civilisations in that universe…”

“Yes Komandir…well, at first I thought it was from our sister nation…a link to the time locked Imaginariumese…but with greater inspection…well look at this…” the ensign pointed at stats on the screen.

“Oh…now that is interesting…good find Tovarishch. Call the Korolevskiy at the Yngen institutes…they will enjoy this.”

[Yngen]

Directorate Headquarters

Avery Johnson glanced at the report from the Pords, with addenda from the Imaginariumese, and almost burst out laughing. These guys? Again? She began preparing a brief for the Imperial Council, before initiating a holo-conference between the various intelligence agencies of the Axis.

Her face, to those who knew her, seemed uncannily youthful. Despite having lived for at least a century in the FB-Verse, and who knows how many here in NS, she still had the healthy appearance of someone in their mid twenties. Thick red hair and a deceptively innocent visage filled the holoscreens of those who picked up.
"Hello, comrades. I hope you are well. As I am sure you are aware, we have...an issue. For those of you who remember, mention of the name 'Greater Kuntree' will engender a mixture of irritation and anger. For those who don't, suffice to say they are heretics, infidels, and a disease upon every plane of existence, and it is our obligation to bring their pestilent existence to a swift end."

She transmitted some data files, containing her past interactions with and records of Dick Line and his misbegotten fiefdom of nonsense.
"A probe from Greater Kuntree was recently discovered attempting to broach the outer perimeter of the Laptev System. This is no real concern in and of itself, as it was intercepted almost instantly, but the likelihood is that this means that Greater Kuntree is once again looking to break itself against the mighty bulkwarks of civilisation. I believe we should oblige them in this desire. Though they are terrifyingly numerous, having no conception of birth control, family planning, or fiscal responsibility, they are sorely lacking in adequate military technology and organisation. A war against them may be costly, but the seizure of their home system, Emberlene, would more than salve any wounds we might take, and of course a glorious Chrihad in the name of justice and pride never goes amiss."
She leaned back, one eyebrow arched as she asked the question she already knew the answer to.
"Who's in?"

[Pordlandia]

Grazhni Yamsai:
VRZ Spear of Rekazhnar; Flagship of the VRZ:

Thus far the day has been rather uneventful. Murdoch spent the morning speaking with Reid about the status of one of his Paramarine Raider formations (he'd sent them on a mission to some backwater planet the Hunters were looking to steamroll... Something about a Patagonian national and a waterbending master or some such drivel) and then found himself enjoying a nice serving of meat at one of the recommended eateries on his flagship (after the conversation). As always, Reid was rather jovial and had put forth his decided course of action rather well. The mission had long since been cleared, but for obvious reasons Murdoch cannot be claimed to be one of its greatest supporters. Raiders are a considerable asset. They should not be wasted, and Nalydya's limited pool of special operations personnel trifled with. It's too late now of course. They are on-planet and carrying out their mission - and doing so well, all things considered - for whatever it might be worth.

"Message, Admiral. Appears to be being relayed from VRZ Command, Laptev." Murdoch's adjutant. The man exists awkwardly at the High Admiral's side.

"Patch it through," comes a garbled reply... Speaking through cigars never did produce decipherable speech.

On Murdoch's desk (a large hulking piece of furniture carved from the finest woods and adorned with many traditional symbols and colours), Avery's hologram appears and begins to speak, going on about the probe and Kuntree and the desire for swift military action. Murdoch makes note of all the major points as she drones on, jotting a few of them down even - on a free portion of a scroll that happens to be sitting near by. This goes on for a minute or two, and upon its completion he brings up the files and very hurriedly looks through them, sifting through the various documents and notes about myriad things and times and places. Then, received of a glance and a nod, the adjutant scurries out of the room, leaving Murdoch alone with his clouds of cigar smoke and intricately decorated admiral's desk.

A single reply is sent to Avery: it is a traditional one, hailing from the FB-verse... An aged Nalydian expression that has been used to begin great wars and impressive offensives during times past.

Let us unleash the Jlokstazh.

[Imaginarium]

“Comrade Johnson,” Replies Georgi Schennikov , now sitting back in his private office space, watching the holographic image of the Yngenious commander, “I am authorised by the people’s authority to give full support to any action taken against Greater Kuntree. The Imaginariumese state wishes that we act pre-emptively to destroy the Kunt…ree…ers(?) and stop them from spreading throughout the galaxy.”

Schennikov takes a sip from a glass of sparkling water on his desk.

“Comrades, The state wishes me to grant you access to Soltnse Odin as a special base of operations and meeting place for any co-ordinated attacks in an operation we are calling “Operation:Stop dreadful poetry. If you so wish?”

[Ant Island]

Somewhere Near Laptev System

On one of Ant Island's Starships

"Alistair Ivanoleyev" General walking closer "What seem to be the problem" Alistair opened a simulation and played it."Watch" The general take a look and saw some movement and signature on Laptev send a S.S.I.P "Yes sir but how about our B.O.Ws" The general spoke like a singer "Seal it seal the container don't let anyone or anything get out we have to protect it at all cost" Alistair look away from the general and started to seal the containers and release the S.S.I.P "Do not disturb me address the crew" The general walking out of the room.

The general walk toward her Quarters and opened a communication to Ant Island's Sec. Of Defense "Sir we got news" The sec. face smiled "What seems to be the problem general" The general opened Alistair simulation."Movement in Laptev system are you sure this isn't just an rock" the general spoke clearly "No sir we are sure this is not an asteroid or anything we also saw communiction of some nations two of them is Pordlandia and Imaginarium" the secretary look away but the hologram is not big enough to see what is he doing "Okay do not attack or engage them" the general nodded "Yes Sir"

Alistair addressed the crew and the scientist "Were done all of you know what will you do" All speak clearly "Yes"

[Fraconia 666]

Blackfyre

"Aye, the Commonwealth will take part in such an interesting venture. These heathens deserve a damn good thrashing. I'm sure the High Command can spare an armada or two to take part in such a venture. "

Sigismund Drakarys said as he puffed away at his cigar whilst glancing up from his paper work. Beside him stood Freya Hendrickson of the United Department of Intelligence; as he waved Ava off he turned to Hendrickson with a smirk.

"Do you know this, um, charming woman?"

"Aye, of her, I suppose. Mostly rumors here and there I picked up; some pleasant, others not so. I've never had the good fortune to meet her in the flesh."

"Aye, I will have to one day soon. That reminds me, how did an old fossil such as yourself manage to survive all these years? You've outlived kings, empires, and universes, yet still you live on."

"I am already dead, Assemblyman. I died a long time ago, and was born again to serve the Realm only and fully."

"Ah, I have trouble understanding that, though I likely never will in my lifetime."

"You Fraconians live long lifespans compared to your cousins, perhaps you'll find out one day."

As she left the room, Drakarys muttered something to himself as he returned to his work.

"Perhaps, perhaps not."

[Yngen]

Laptev System

"I'll be there in a tick," said Avery, standing up and stretching. As an afterthought, she leaned back into shot and added "I believe that the demonym is constructed by replacing '-ree' with '-s'", before shutting off the link and heading to the hangar bar.

Within moments she was aboard her personal shuttle craft and on her way to the mighty Imaginariumese Soltnse Odin. Guiding it in for a standard landing, she stepped out daintily. Dressed in her trademark black combat gear with a thick overcoat to protect against the chill, she looked exactly as if a lazy author had copied Natasha Romanov several years ago and now felt it was far too late to change the character description.

She saluted the Imaginariumese officers present and let them lead her to the operations room, where she began setting up, waiting for her comrades.

Cytee, Greater Kuntree

"They took OUR probe?" raged Dick Line.
"The...the one we sent into their system? Yes, sir...those are one-shot probes..."
"STILL. The arrogance! Thinking they can just make off with our things! That's practically a declaration of war. Inform my generals. Prepare them for an invasion."

The War Room, Cytee

The generals and admirals of Greater Kuntree gathered around a vast operations table. Almost to a man, they knew that this war was ill-advised, but they had grown up having been taught that the bogeyman of the Axis was constantly lurking in the shadows, waiting to destroy everything their people had built, and the call to violence was alluring for officers who had never fought a serious engagement in their entire career.

Fleet Admiral Blakes, supreme commander of the Kuntrian Navy, did not particularly want to fight this war, but he knew they had to and, unlike his superior or the useless peers around him, was imbued with a sense of professionalism and a gift for strategic thinking. He believed total victory was not possible, so instead his aim was to embarrass the Axis, score some minor wins and outwit their hulking fleets in order to win recognition and fame on the intergalactic stage.

As such, he began drafting up a plan, much to the chagrin of the rest of the general staff who wanted their own slice of the cake. A loyal cadre of sensible-minded officers stuck by him, however, and bullied or persuaded the others to buckle under.

The first order of business was to marshall the fleets, whilst increasing amounts of probes and exploratory flights began mapping the outer limits of the Laptev defensive network and the trade routes used by the faction.

[Pordlandia]

Grazhni Yamsai:

The vast machines-of-war begin to churn, powering themselves forth through the fabric and forming up into their standard vessel-groupings. Thousands of warships move in an intricate ballet of metal, sailing with seemingly choreographed movements, going simply to where they need to be; a sprawling Rekazhenvolash type, dwarfing cities, edges towards what can be considered the "center" of the gaggle: trimmed in red and bristling with guns, High Hunter Cholkük's flagship is a work of art unto itself, having been constructed from parts of that vessel which proudly bore the name Rekazhenvolash so many moons ago. Well, all the ships, really, in the 12th Fleet; the memory of the Rekazhenvolash - the mighty dreadnought of the Alabaster Kingdom, right hand of the Hunters - lives on within the metalworking and machinery of the thousand-strong fleet, the ships of the organization having been built entirely from cannibalized portions of the once powerful battlewagon, that behemoth warship Cholkük himself once commanded.

Accelerating away from the fleet and out into the void is a minuscule vessel - well under a kilometer in length and seeming to move through the fabric at incredible speeds without disturbing it, almost as if it were ignoring physics. It shoots out past the heliosphere of the system and arrives within Laptev space mere moments later, flashing identification to VRZ Command, Laptev and requesting information on where it needs to go, whereupon it is directed to the impressive Soltnse Odin.

From it comes an even smaller vessel, finished in blue and belching out a sickening amount of rift smoke from its funnels. It goes through the standard docking procedures and a single Pord exits onto the Imaginariumese craft wearing standard Paramarine Raider attire - blue tunic and trousers of a matching hue, trimmed in black with gray armour plates on his torso, shins, forearms and shoulders, and finished handsomely with charcoal boots (tall, but not too tall) and a similarly coloured belt with a shimmering silver buckle. Traipsing into the meeting room, he sees those gathered before him and seats himself, ears open and ready to hear of what plans are afoot.

[Imaginarium]

Soltnse Odin-Flight deck

"Tovarishch Komandir, dobro pozhalovat!" exclaimed Schennikov out reaching a hand to Avery. "Welcome to Soltnse Odin Comrade, I trust the flight was standard?"

Schennikov signalled to two guards with a slight of hand, who moved away from their positions in the guard of honour that had welcomed the shuttle's departing crew, and to follow the party. The soldiers, both wearing the standard spacial commando uniforms of the People's Army marched in sync with one another, staring ahead as they walked.

"We have arranged for the bridge to be your hub of operations Commander, with all crew operating on there to assist us in these early stages. The Commissariat for Defense has issued a message to say that they are simply a call away, and can be present should we need their political input. An Ambassador from the Party, Annabel' Bramenyev, though you may know her as Comrade Annabelle Brammer has requested that we allow you access to the Presidential Guest suite for the duration of your stay with us. She says whatever you need, you are to ask of us. She has left her personal contact station address in the suite for you when you get the chance...Where shall we go first Tovarishch?"

[Yngen]

Johnson shook Schennikov's hand with a smile.
"Yes, thank you genosse, all was well. As ever I am impressed by the Imaginariumese hospitality and splendour."

As they reached the situation room and began to set up, she crossed to one of the displays and began to pull up information.
A planet appeared on the viewscreen, labelled 'SL-02 - ARKENGARTH'.
"This," she began explaining, "is one of the outliers of the Imperium. A mining planet, rich in copper, gold, and diamonds, it is vital to our computing industry and for adoring the flabby bodies of the great and the good. Despite this, it is still booming, and has a population of barely 700,000, almost all concentrated in the city of Arkengrad, a sprawling industrial complex populated by workers, state officials, military personnel, and a whackload of robots. Not 'droids, mind you, just dumb mining machines, courier robots, that kind of thing. All in all, it's huge, ugly, and ripe for the taking."
She paused, scratching her nose.
"Um, can I get a drink? Thanks comrade. Anyway, we figure the Kunti's are going to hit here first. They must know they can't face us head-on, so will look for a weak target to score an easy victory, come away with some loot, and call it a day."

She smiled a wolfish grin.
"This is where we come in. Instead of sending fleets to stop them, we're going to let them attack the city. We've informed the planetary governor, who is already making sure that the bomb shelters and emergency facilities are up-to-scratch. We'll send crack teams of intelligence operatives and special forces to assist the local forces in staging an effective resistance campaign on the ground, drawing the enemy in and forcing them to gather their attention on the planet.
Then the Axis fleets arrive, when they are clustered and trapped in-system. We wipe them out to a man, capturing who we can and killing the rest. It'll be dangerous for those on the ground, but it means we can end this before it ever gets close to any major systems, and put down Greater Kuntree in one swift stroke. Sound good?"

[Imaginarium]

"Sounds good to me" replied Schennikov "I will send word to the Motherland, pass on the plan...they will give us the forces we need."

With this, Schennikov exited the room, and returned to his private quarters. As he reached his desk, he spoke aloud;

"Computer...put me through to Army Command..."

"Right away Tovarishch"

The screen on the desk came to life, and a ringing tone rang out through the room. Within seconds the call was answered, and the face of an older gentleman, whose hair was graying around the edge, and whose eyes were set back in his head appeared.

"Tovarishch Schennikov, you have met with the Yngenious? What is the plan?"

"Tovarishch Ignashevich..." Schennikov proceeded to explain the plan recently covered by Avery Johnson, and thus to save time, won't be typed out again. "So, with that being the plan...perhaps you could allow us the use of TENI?"

"TENI are the states top enforces Georgi. They would certainly suit this Guerrilla campaign. We must however receive guarentees that they will be given political authority to enforce our state will when victory is achieved...if you can guarantee us this, then they will be mobilized within the hour."

With this, the screen went dark.

OOC: by far the most boring thing I have ever posted.

[Fraconia 666]

Freya Hendrickson inspected the heavily armed and armored lot that stood before her. 30 agents of the United Department of Intelligence had been assigned to her to take somewhere that the High Command had not determined yet. She suspected that it would likely make normal field work look like a piece of cake in contrast to the shitstorm she was likely heading into. Her black boots clamored against the metallic deck; she always hated the feel of metal beneath her feet instead of the good earth. If there was one thing she hated more it was the thought of the black taking her instead of her being given what she regarded as a proper burial.

She shuddered somewhat at that thought before collecting herself. Addressing the men chosen to undergo a likely suicide mission in a commanding voice.

"I do not know where in bloody Hell we're going, but we're going. Any objections?"

The question was pointless, each and every agent before her longed for a good fight. Nodding in approval, Freya left them for her own quarters where she awaited further word from HQ .

Fury
Blackfyre offered the men a toast as she supped in the Common Hall where high and low born sat alike. The lads of the 8th had managed to improve their performance in regards to damage control and gunnery. Not bad, but not good enough by Blackfyre's standards. There was much to be improved, but now as the clouds of war approached there was so little time to do so. Still, she raised her half liter mug of brandy and downed it as her lads quickly followed.

"We are bound for the Kraaker as our forefathers did before."

Cheers rang out as the heavy drinking, smoking, and gorging continued. Blackfyre reclined in her onyx chair, somewhat tipsy as the brandy worked its way through her. She soon found herself singing along as the lads struck up old tunes from home. As she prepared to lose herself to strong drink and song her watch went off. Cursing, she glimpsed to look at it. Rising from her chair, she and several of her staff left to meet Lord Wulfius of the 5th Armada fresh from Neustrasia.

It was the first time that a Fraconian armada had ventured beyond the frontier in nearly a century. That could only mean one thing as Blackfyre quickened her pace. War.

[Yngen]

Deck of the Gudok Bep

The Gudok Bep was a small civilian freighter, kitted out by the Directorate with shielding but otherwise completely unremarkable. Aboard were Avery Johnson, a hand-picked squad of four Directorate Agents with her, as well as a TENI contingent who had received the political authorisation they had desired, and a squad of Fraconians who looked like they were expecting to mount a head-on assault on the Emberlene system.

Avery went over the plan in detail, briefing them in the cramped gallery of the freighter as the vessel rattled its way through hyperspace, the faster Warp travel being available only to military vessels. They were to arrive in-system, merge with the local population, and await the Kuntrian assault, whereupon they would sabotage, ambush, and generally cause havoc for the invaders, forcing them to linger in-system until the Axis warfleets could surround them.

Arkengarth System

Some time later, one of her pilots called out. They were approaching their destination, and so the agents began preparing themselves for reversion to realspace.

There was a shudder and the curious feeling of weightlessness for a moment, before the stars rematerialised before them. There was a moment's silence, then one of the pilots murmured a curse under his breath.

They were late to the party. Kuntrian warships were already in-system, the negligible fleet garrison already scattered or destroyed as the wreckage of Kuntrian and Imperium ships floated in the void. Dropships heading to the surface were already visible, as well as the telltale signs of gunfire on the ground, the giant stain that was Arkengrad visible as a dark grey patch on the pale grey-white ball of mountainous rock.

Avery had to make a decision and fast. Proximity warnings were already blaring from the cockpit.
"Take us in. Fuck stealth." she snapped, before heading back to the passenger compartments.
"Strap yourselves in. This won't be fun."

Arkengrad, unknown co-ordinates

Contrary to her assertion, it had been at least thrilling, if not laugh-out-loud fun. They had successfully evaded the blockading fleet, but had been hit mid-atmosphere and had crash landed in the remains of an evacuated apartment block, bringing it down with them as they ploughed into the wide street below. Staggering out, it seemed that fighting in this sector was already over, corpses of both soldiers and civilians strewn here and there alongside the occasional ruined vehicle. To the south-east, further in to the city, the sounds of gunfire and explosions still roared.

[Pordlandia]

Arkengrad; Who The Hell Knows Where:

"That could have gone worse," the Pord - Kuroq, officer Paramarine - notes, cigar hanging at a rather jaunty angle. He picks himself up, going over a mental head-check... Nezho... nokesh, dritna.. rakesh, tazhna... "Doesn't look like we're missing anyone."

Another Pord, Kalanok, clutches at what appears to be an oversized kinetic rifle as he crouches off to the side, surveying the area. "This place looks like shit," he admits. "And we still got gunfire going on too."

"Everyone have their gear?" Kuroq again. A few tasinehdaos! ring out in reply. A quick glance doesn't prove otherwise.

The six Pords have with them rather standard equipment - a mixture of battle rifles, two support weapons and some explosives, brought specifically for this mission. They do have heavier equipment, although such gear'll be remaining on the vessel until needed. For the most part, the Paramarines look somewhat uniform, however each Pord has something different... One wears his kit and gear wrapped up in a blanket draped around his shoulder and waist, another forgoes headgear, still a third has near everything wrapped up neatly on top of the rucksack that hangs loosely on her back. The main difference between them, however, would be the intricate designs on the sleeves and collars of their tunics; Kuroq's indicate he is an officer, while Kalanoks reveals his status as second in command.

Kuroq looks over his GAR-25 briefly - ensuring it is still in working order - then pokes his head up to see if Avery is around.

[Fraconia 666]

Arkengrad
Freya staggered to her feet in a daze. The world seemed to spin around her as she collected herself. When at last she did she switched on ISIS and proceeded to synch with the agents under her command. Information received from each agent revealed that her squad had made it through alright. In fact, they had likely held up better than she due to the armor which they bore.


She could see that they were looking over their arms meticulously; eying to ensure that there were no foul ups after the rather rough landing. Most of them bore the heavy CWS shard rifle which would look comically oversized compared to standard arms; capable of giving a good deal of destructive power to the rifleman that bore it. Some would be wielding the Portable Projector Array or the Burrower capable of laying down an impressive amount of fire support in a given area.

Freya gave silent approval as she checked her own equipment. Her PDW which would seem miniscule in contrast to what the UDI agents bore, yet it had served her well in the past. Light, durable, and capable of mounting a bayonet for close quarters work. Though when it came to close quarters combat, she like all Franks preferred the age-old francisca. Strapped across her thigh, it could split skulls and hack off limbs fairly easily. Freya had trained with it ever since she was a girl of seven; how many men she had killed with it she had forgotten.

She waved for the Fraconians to form up on her as she scanned for Avery and the others. The sound of gunfire in the distance put her on edge. Her ignorance of where exactly they had landed only added to her confusion. Things had not gone as planned, but then again, things seldom did.

[Imaginarium]

"Tovarishchi! Kak my sebya chuvstvuyem ?" shouted the voice of Colonel Yevheniy Simonov, the most heavily mustached man ever seen. "It feels like a hangover, no?"

The TENI operatives, a dozen or so in number, with varying equipment and differing personalised armour, all of which would be boring to list simply beyond the cosmetics of things such as appearance, collected themselves, grunting back at the Colonel.

"Colonel, I have experienced better flights with Ingoan Air..." joked Private Boyarka, a young faced soldier, wearing all black, with an Imaginariumese patch sewed onto the arm of his jacket. The group laughed at joke, which brought to light the terrible condition of some of the flight equipment in one of the smaller Imaginariumese Republics

"Like you've ever been able to afford Ingoan Air Boyarka..." bantered another, Private Nasha Ryabtsev, a woman of strong stature, with dark brown hair, tied up in a bun, underneath her TENI beret. Again the group laughed.

"Yes yes Privates, keep your flirting for when we've made camp" Colonel Simonov said, dispersing the mood, "We need to secure our area, and work out where we are...LEMESHEV!" The figure of another TENI, Yuri Lemeshev came running over. His facial hair shaven into a ridiculous hipster beard. "Lemeshev, see that monument?" Simonov points in the direction of a statue, still standing, but with heavy battle damage. "I want you to climb it and see what you can see in the immediate area..."

With that, Lemeshev removed himself from the scene. Simonov turned to Avery.

"Comrade...whilst our allies look dark and brooding, or smirky, may I suggest we scout the area, locate where the conflict is, and potentially work our way to high ground to radio local ground forces?"

[Yngen]

The Fraconian leader had started singing to herself, never a good sign, and was apparently drinking on the job. "элита, да?" she scoffed, jerking her thumb towards them. As Lemeshev scampered off, Avery gave a sharp nod in response to Colonel Simonov's suggestion. She turns, scouring the skyline for anything useful, then glances back to her own squad. They are dressed in the standard-issue armour of the Imperium, plasteel armour over a black bodyglove, with heavy boots and a battle-helmet with a broad, retractable visor. These troops were Directorate, but since the Directorate rarely fielded agents directly into combat they were wearing standard Marine equipment, meaning digital-pattern grey body armour. With them were the two pilots, Fleet personnel in conspicuous flourescent yellow body armour, armed with nothing other than PDW firearms. Avery was annoyed that they were going to have to tag along, but their ship had exploded so, fair's fair.

"Sigunn," she barks, and one of the soldiers stepped forwards. "Go with Comrade Leme..shev? See what you can find. The rest of you, we're heading south-east, see if we can find whoever's left on our side."

Kuroq poked his head out of the ruined shuttle, attracting her attention, and so Avery waved at him and shouted.
'We're going that way! Form up!'
With that, she began traipsing south-east through the scarred suburbs.

Not long after..

The wind was beginning to pick up, a southerly wind that wafted the scent of smoke and chaos their way. The sun was high, but the thick clouds gave a muted feeling to the day, and the crisp cold air was like a knife twisting in the ribs. They had gone maybe two blocks, sticking to the centre of the street to avoid collapsing buildings, when the first signs of battle came their way.

There was a humming noise from the north, and as they reached a crossroads, they saw a pair of heavy hovervehicles laden with jubilant men in strange armour that looked almost like wetsuits. Though it looked advanced, it was tattered and some of them were wounded, but they clung to the sides of the strange bus-like vehicles, cheering as they accelerated south.

The whole Axis contingent went to ground. Avery's squad had no heavy anti-armour equipment, not enough for this, but she hoped the others did. The enemy were rapidly approaching the crossroads, coming directly into the Axis line of fire....

[Pordlandia]

The Pords:

The Franconian offer is ignored as Kuroq sees Avery. A simple motion to his group is all that is needed for them to form up and begin moving. In the sea of blacks and reds that make up the standard colours of many of the others with them, the Pordish group might be a welcome break, clad in their grays and blues with whites and some smaller amounts of black thrown in for good measure.

A Bit Later..:

Kuroq and the Paramarine Raiders have found nice fields of fire for themselves and now engage their own Array systems, their myriad forms becoming encased in a semi-opaque protective sheath. The Pordish leader eyes the incoming vehicles and the various positions of the other members of the Axis contingent and nods to the machine gunner - a large man, clad in Polynya power armour, and wielding a massive GAC-45. He loads the weapon with its ammunition and waits for the signal to fire.

"Those seem too heavily armoured, Kuroq?"

Kuroq turns to Kalanok in a slow, suppressed movement, keeping his overall profile as minuscule as possible. "They look like personnel carriers of some sort," he states the obvious to the other Pord, "Been too long since I've seen some other than our own."

"Mhmmm. So we should be good to go then," Kalanok agrees in the same hushed tone. "Take it out," he orders the squad.

The loud and rapid thwump! thwump! thwump! of the GAC-45 signals the Pords are the first to open fire, the massive 45mm automachine cannon rounds emerging from the barrel of the weapon at obscene speeds in ridiculous numbers. The energetic rounds fly towards the visible viewports of the first vehicle and any exposed infantry... Whose days would be rapidly ruined by the incendiary and high explosive nature of the AP rounds. Mere moments later Kuroq and the other four join in, targeting the second vehicle with their marginally smaller GAR-25s (although admittedly, the GAR-25 does have superiour penetration to the GAC-45), mirroring the firing patterns of the machine gunner. Vast clouds of smoke begin to kick up, obscuring standard visual optics, though for now, this isn't concerning. Kuroq watches the initial stages of the skirmish unfold as he reloads his weapon and checks his helmet's sensors to determine damage...

[Fraconia 666]

"Well that'll do it."

Freya muttered as she heard the Pords open fire. The Fraconians had moved forward upon sighting Avery, having set up shop to best make use of the weaponry they had available. She waved for Sergeant Harper and Private Hendricks that bore the heavy weaponry of the squad. Motioning for them to follow their Pordish comrades in open up on the column.

Harper placed his Burrower firmly on the ground; selecting targets amidst the Kuntreeish column to turn into scrap metal. Burrower rounds were designed to travel through the ground to penetrate or detonate underneath the soft belly of armored vehicles with a tremendous force. A sharp ping could be heard as one burrower followed the other until at least a dozen were on their way to their targets. Veering to and fro in order to

"Not bad, Sergeant."

Hendricks said as he let loose with his PPA; a bluish particle beam traveled to hit one of the armored hovercraft. Hendricks selected his targets based on their threat to the Fraconian position. Freya waved for the remaining Fraconians to open up with their small arms. The CWS shard rifle was closer to a portable rail gun firing an 8 inch Vor shard designed to penetrate body armor and lightly armored vehicles. Its affects could be downright gruesome to those on the business side of it.

Freya surveyed the carnage before her with delight as she motioned for Harper to fire off another volley.

[Imaginarium]

"GET INTO COVER!" had been Simonov's shout as the group had come under fire from Kunts. Diving behind debris and burnt out vehicles, the TENI operatives collected themselves amongst their comrades from other nations.

"Polkovnik" Private Ryabtsev addressing the Colonel amongst the shoot out "It occurs to me that now would be a good occasion to re-evaluate our equipment, and maybe go into detail about our weaponry?"

"Net Tovarishch! Now is not the time to get our weapons out and compare..."

Private Boyarka sniggered at what appeared to be some crude innuendo

"Seriously Sergi?! Will you ever grow up?" came the retort of Ryabtsev

"Hey! At least I can find humour in our current situation...If you cannot laugh when ridiculous religious fanatics with a love of terrible poetry are shooting at you, when can you?" came the reply from Boyarka.

"Tovarishchi...it seems our comrades from Fraconia are engaging...COVERING FIRE! Simonov shouted, as the group burst from their positions, firing upon the advancing parties. As the Franconian energy weapon burst upon the Kuntree---ians. Simonov's ear piece-receiver sparked into life...it was Lemeshev.

"Tovarishch Polkovnik, I am on the roof to your west." Lemeshev had escaped the oncoming battle by scarpering into a nearby building when told to get into cover. From this position he had climbed through the abandoned and battle scared building, it's insides empty through fire damage.

"I can see 2 possible routes for you from your current position. You can head West, across the street, and into the door I came through. You can see it from your position, it was formally a Ystovian Restaurant. This building seems to offer us access across the city from the roof tops. Alternatively, there is an alley way to your East. It looks to lead into a shopping mall, though what is in there I cannot see. I could get to it via the roof tops however. What shall we do Tovarishch?"

Simonov motioned to Avery, who had been looped into the radio conversation.
"Comrade Johnson...it seems we have seemingly endless routes out of here...well...2...but that's better than none. Either way we go, we are going to have to make a run for it in the open..."

[Yngen]

The volley of machine-gun fire hurled several of the riding infantry to the ground in a shower of blood, and shattered the front of the lead vehicle, bursting a panel off it. As it began to veer off, burrower explosions caused it to buck high, toppling over and coming to a grinding halt on its side. The surviving troops picked themselves up and ducked behind their wrecked vehicle, using it for cover as they began to return fire.

The second vehicle drew up to a more sedate halt, disgorging forty infantry in total, who spread out into cover and added their weight of fire to the others. From the hood of the transport, two huge autocannons swivelled out and began blasting heavy shot towards the embattled Axis forces.

Avery crouched behind cover along with the pilots, as they were all only armed with short-range weapons. Her troops were snapping off the occasional burst of glaring yellow laserfire or solid slug, as Avery listened to the back-and-forth between the Imaginariumese. When Simonov turned to her, she reacted without hesitation, pointing towards the mall.
"Our objective is south-east. We head east! Lemeshev, we'll meet you in the mall."
She led the pilots across the street, and her three troops followed in stages, making short rushes under cover whilst the others blasted off suppressive fire, until they were all safely across. Ahead of them, the mall was large and sprawling. It was well-appointed - this region seemed to be a fairly well-off area, but instead of the usual mix of high street labels, it was filled with independent businesses (which in Yngen were limited to a single property and fourteen employees) such as restaurants and cafes, along with state-owned stores selling a broad range of things from electronics to clothing. The shopfronts showed the signs of skirmishing, bullet holes and destruction visible here and there, along with a few corpses. Civilians had been killed as they shopped, whilst a small knot of Imperial security personnel lay slumped at an intersection, surrounded by dead Kuntrian soldiers.

Rooftops

Sigunn took careful aim, using her sharpshooter rifle to put down an enemy officer before wriggling back from the rooftop edge and turning to look at Lemeshev. She clicked her visor back, revealing golden skin, black eyes, and bronze hair - she was a Walkurian.
"Whats's the word comrade?"

[Imaginarium]

Rooftops
Lemeshev, holding a pair of (fancy sci fi rubbish) binoculars, looked followed the route of the main party down the alley way and into the side down way that led to the mall.

"It looks like the rest of our team have decided to take the alley way route. We'll have to go across the rooftops." Lemeshev turned to Sigunn, his bright blue eyes piercing as they stared. Offering his bottle "Would you care for some Imaginariumese War Juice?"