Project Calendar: Target May [semi-open]

[Allanea]

D-Day, 01:00, Reichsburg Time

Even as the Allanean ships were still leaving their harbors to sail to Automagfreek and to Kraven, it would be time for yet other allies to get on the march. What the Allaneans could not do, their friends in Wanderjar could accomplish.

And thus it was that the next address Emperor Alexander Kazansky had made was directed to the people of Wanderjar – and the people of other nations that would engage the enemy in Kregaia. A new broadcast was made, and the Emperor spoke once more.

My good friends in Wanderjar.

For generations, you have been faithful to the Prussian Throne – to Napoleon IV, to Emperor Paisley, and to others that wore the crown and cared for the members of the alliance. This time, I asked you to join me in a holy crusade – a crusade not for the Pope or for the Church – but a crusade for what is just and right.

This time, we ride out, as heroes, as free men and free women, to suppress the tyrannous tendencies and depredations of a group of nations most barbarous and vile – nations such as Automagfreek and Kraven, Warmaster and Barbarosea.

Many nations of the world will not ride with us tonight. The Axis Novans will not – they are suffering from a budget shortfall. The Xirniumites will not – they are too busy preening their dress uniforms. The Pantocratorians will not, and neither will many other nations that claim to be dedicated to the cause of civilization. It falls – yet again – to the Allaneans and their friends to stand stalwart in the defense freedom and peace.

I speak to you now not merely as the Emperor of Greater Prussia, the General-Secretary of the Confederacy of Sovereign States, the President of Allanea. I speak to you as Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky – as your friend and equal. I remind you now of that which is our common duty – to defend and protect peace and liberty, wherever they may be under threat.

Today we commence an attack across incredible expanses of sea, against a foe that will surely be prepared for our coming, arrayed with mighty weapons and hiding ind mighty fortresses. But remember this above all else:

Bravery is stronger then steel and concrete. With one - battles are won and cities taken, and the others are mere scenery upon which deeds unfold. No gate, no fortress, no weapon may save a man whose courage fails – and I tell you, my loyal friends – our courage will not fail.

Thank you.

May God bless you all.

And May God Continue to Bless Allanea.

OOC: Obviously, my participation in this thread will be limited to media comments, and maybe some airstrikes at some later stage. I'm just starting the ball rolling here. While the thread is open, it would be again best if we limited the amount of participants. A soft limit of 4-5 attackers would be best, IMO. Anybody wishing to join as an attacker should contact me first.

[Velkya]

[Harbor Traffic Control, Port of Southport]

“Control, this is Ulysses' Hammer, feeding into pipeline zero-two-three. Prepare to assume guidance control.”

The overworked harbor pilot glanced at his console. The small blue dot that represented the Hammer inched along its predetermined course into the mouth of what many held to be the busiest port in all of southern Gholgoth. The sheer volume of traffic moving in and out of the mouth of this gargantuan harbor made the job of physically boarding a ship and steering it into port impossible. Instead, automated piloting systems would link up to and take command of a ship as soon as it reached the territorial waters of the Velkyan mainland, guiding it into a dock with all the skill and efficiency of a traditional pilot.

“Copy that, Hammer, assuming control now. Standby for docking procedures.”

The controls on board the Hammer seemed to take on a life of their own as the vast computer banks of Harbor Traffic Control steadily steered her into one of hundreds of concrete berths. Once stopped and secured, an army of both robotic and human workers scrambled to begin unloading her cargo. Time and space were very precious commodities to the port authority, and maintaining low turn-around times on docked vessels was paramount.

A pair of suited figures looked on as the first cargo containers were hoisted from the decks and placed on dockside rail-lines. Plain-clothes security personnel dotted the area, their clothing civilian but their equipment undoubtedly military. The first man turned to his companion, his hand making a sweeping gesture that encompassed the scene before him.

“Can we guarantee the safety of our vessels in the event of an outbreak of war?”

The addressed furrowed his brow and leaned against a nearby railing.

“Event of? Allanea and her allies have already mobilized. My Armada contacts tell me that their utterly massive build-up was patently obvious months ago, and that all the militarily-inclined Gothic nations have already began to enact contingency plans. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if combat has already broken out in the oceans between Haven and ourselves.”

“Has the military gone public yet?” the other responded.

“They will, although they won't wait to begin engaging the enemy. Our policies dictate otherwise.”

As if to emphasize the remark, the ground darkened as a giant something roared overhead, followed shortly by several more. Both men cocked their heads to identify the source of the noise, and watched as a flight of Armada transport aircraft made their final approaches to a nearby naval air station. War was coming to Velkya.

[Greater Velkya]

Indeed it was. The Velkyan war machine had been called to action, and began to gain momentum. Military production centers that had lay inactive were soon brought to life, as workers began to operate the automated machinery that would grind the tools of modern war out of their basic material components. Reserve service personnel were activated, and local recruitment were immediately double-staffed, preparing to receive the inevitable flood of conscripts and volunteers.

The titanic naval complexes at Southport, Tanis, Heiberth, November, and Oured sprang to life as legions of freshly activated sailors, marines, and airmen arrived by rail, choking their offloading stations with seas of white and green. Most of the active duty fleets had already put to sea, their thousands of warships and support vessels making innumerable wakes in the waters of Southern Gholgoth. This sea of humanity took careful effort and finesse to manage, qualities that soon had them herding into their respective assignments. Vessels ranging from massive supercapitals to small littoral combat ships filled the egress lanes out of the naval dockyards of the Velkyan Armada.

Submarines in far ranging wolf-packs around the Gothic oceans were soon joined by their counterparts from both foreign nations and Velkya herself. They coordinated with aerial and surface assets to secure vital trade lanes with other Gothic powers, ensuring that Velkya's vital lifeblood of trade would remain secure during hostilities. Merchant vessels were assigned to a convoy structure within days, and while such practices would inevitably restrict merchant activity, it would ensure that such activity would not be stymied by hostile action.

The Air Defense Force's sprawling airfield networks began to launch and recover aircraft at a rapidly increasing rate, doubling interceptor and maritime patrols around the mainland nearly overnight. AWACS and fighter units became an increasingly common sight to fisherman cruising along the edges of Velkya's nautical territory, their eyes staring with awe at the patchwork of contrails that streaked across the evening skies.

Dozens of Marine Expeditionary Forces began to assemble at local airstrips, awaiting the call to deploy to distant war zones. Both active and reserve duty heavy combat divisions began to activate, their equipment brought out of storage and onto exercise fields. Billions of rounds of ammunition and millions of gallons of fuel began to pour into the veins of the Army, its armored legions brought to fore once more.

Mass drivers and launch pads began to prepare their stores of launch vehicles for immediate usage so that Velkyan spatial systems would remain viable in the almost certain outbreak of orbital hostilities. Spaceplanes dispersed around hardened and extremely long runways were fueled and armed, their payloads ready to deliver white hot death to the fleets of the invaders.

It would be an impossible sign to miss. Velkya had stood and took her place among the ranks of her Gothic allies, prepared to rain death upon the hordes of barbarians that would seek to threaten her home.

[Kahanistan]

Riverson, Kahanistan

The Free Republic of Kahanistan had just imported trillions of dollars worth of Questarian arms, primarily naval arms but also DPR for various ships and missiles, and now the equipment was coming in. Hundreds of submarines, cruisers, battle cruisers, destroyers, and carriers flooded the docks, the Navy was calling up reserves, increasing to a strength of six million personnel aboard four thousand warships, and merchant ships were being commissioned into service, their crews inducted into the naval reserves, though whether to transport millions of soldiers with allied logistical support to the front or to bring millions of freed slaves to new homes was an open question.

Over the seas, millions of CAPTOR mines were being laid to protect the Republic from invading Gothic scum. Kahanistan had been opposing Parthian slavery and genocide for some time, and now had problems with terrorists that everyone knew were from SAVAK even if it couldn't be proved. It was also allied with Allanea, which made it a target much like the presence of Praetonian interests made it a Kregaian target so long ago.

Aboard his flagship, the Sandakan-class battlecruiser RKS Yi Sun-sin, Fleet Admiral Carl Jenkins stood at the deck, fully expecting to die, and cynically feeling that he had been sent there because of his political opposition to the Anti-Catholic Party. Next to him stood former President and now head of the Air Force, General Nadia Sklenova, whose actions in Kraven had gotten her made a general and given her political credibility. Only 35, she, too, was a victim of political change, run out of office a year earlier as unwilling to fight with Kahanistan still weakened.

In the city, Civil Irregular Defence Groups, paramilitary formations composed of armed civilians at the battalion level, laid antitank mines, set up sniper nests, and drilled for a possible Gothic invasion. The Air Force drilled for the likelihood of a hostile attack, and patrols were intensified. With tensions rising with Parthia, the general view was that war with the Shahdom was inevitable. Nobody yet knew what fate had in store for the country, or the world.

[The Warmaster]

The news traveled fast, as should be expected for something of its importance. By the end of Kazansky’s first broadcast, the right people were listening in; a declaration of war against the Freeks was not the kind of thing one heard every day. By the time Kazansky specifically mentioned Kregaia in his second broadcast, the entire Kregaian Inner Court knew what was going on.

The bureaucratic machinery of the Imperium smoothly moved into action. Transcripts of the speeches were written up and distributed. Intelligence reports and analyses began to flow, evaluating or attempting to evaluate everything from the size of the incipient invasion to Kazansky’s psychological health. The Intelligence Division buzzed with activity; High Priests and Metropolitans were summoned from all over the Empire to constitute a quorum for an Extraordinary Session of the College of Priests; servants thronged the hallways of the Imperial Palace, delivering messages, looking for officials, and generally doing whatever they were ordered to do…but all of this whirl of activity was defined by submission, complete dependence on the decisions of a small body of men. In a tastefully-decorated meeting room within the Palace, dominated by a massive hand-made oval table that filled the room with the subtle aroma of exotic wood, lay the eye of the storm.

* * *

“Tempting though it may seem to consider this a drastic setback,” Emperor Ishamael was saying, “I regard this as a great opportunity. On paper, it all looks very impressive. But then, nobody has seen the full extent of Kregaian capabilities. At least not in centuries.” He gestured to a servant standing nearby, who lost no time walking over and bowing low to offer the Emperor a box of cigars.

“Great Lord, pardon me, but do you regard this invasion as simply an opportunity to test our real strength?” The tone in High Admiral Anor’s voice flirted with incredulity, a dangerous thing when speaking to the Emperor. However, as the servant cut and lit Ishamael’s cigar, the Emperor showed no sign of having detected Anor’s insubordination.

“Oh, it’s more serious than just a test, of course.” Exhaling a cloud of thick smoke, Ishamael closed his eyes for a moment, as if to enjoy the scent of it, before going on. “One cannot shrug off an invasion of this magnitude. We can expect to be tested to the limit. But what better cure for complacency could be found? And who can doubt the power of Kregaian arms once we have destroyed the enemy?” He leaned forward, his expression abruptly serious. “This is, obviously, only logical if we do indeed destroy them. And therefore it must be done. Failure to crush these infidels would be an unthinkable embarrassment.”

He glanced at the Pontifex Maximus. “Cyrus, the invasion constitutes a deliberate and massive attack upon the Kregaian way of life…would you not agree?”

As if there were a chance he wouldn’t. “Certainly, Divine One,” the old priest replied, smiling slightly. He knew what this meant.

“Well then, the College is to review the relevant passages in the law, and if it concurs with me as to the extent of this heathen threat, I…am confident it will order the auguries for a crusade.”

That brought an intake of breath from many of those around the table. A crusade was hardly something to be undertaken lightly, and was only proclaimed when the Imperium was considered to be in a life-or-death struggle against foreigners, with the very existence of Kregaian culture hanging in the balance. And it meant that no expense would be spared, no sacrifice forsaken, no effort left undone in order to achieve victory. Total war.

“Kazansky’s speeches are to be broadcast on all channels at seven o’clock tonight. Afterwards, I will deliver a speech to properly inspire the people. I want every Kregaian to understand their place, and where we now stand. I am going to order a complete Phase 1, Level 1 mobilization, gentlemen. And that may be just the start. That means a full recall of warships; preparation of defenses at home and at sea; everything the phrase ‘total war’ implies.” Leaning back in his chair, Ishamael continued puffing away on his cigar, the nonchalant pose contrasting with his cold, deadly serious tone. “I want hourly reports on the progress of the naval recall, the retooling of the economy towards arms production, and the mobilization process. And Anton, I want a full analysis of necessary fortification measures within seventy-two hours.” Those cold dark eyes swept around the table, regarding these princes, these chief lieutenants of the Imperium, seeming to evaluate them; the next few months would determine whether they truly deserved the eminent positions they had been given. “Gentlemen, I think that concludes our business. To work.”

* * *

By seven o’clock that evening, the entire Kregaian Empire was ready to explode. The Inquisition had centuries of practice at whipping the citizens of Kregaia into war fever, and they had become true masters at it. For hours, Kregaian anchormen had been hinting that some explosive news was to be revealed at seven, and throughout the Empire, messages had been broadcast, pamphlets had been printed, and notices had been posted that all subjects of the Iron Throne were to tune in at seven that night.

Billions of people heard Alexander Kazansky declare war on Automagfreek, and his follow-up speeches elaborating on his plan to destroy Gholgoth. And Kregaians are not given to questioning what they are told by the Imperium. They hear the Allanean President declare his intention to destroy them, and they don’t stop to think about it before they erupt in rage. And it was in this state of mind that they heard their Emperor speaking from the Rostra, in front of the Imperial Palace, in front of more than two million citizens of the capital.

It was an impressive spectacle, as even foreigners would have had to admit. The Rostra, along with the rest of the Great Forum, was illuminated by a number of floodlights, and as the cameras panned over the huge mass of people who had come to hear Ishamael speak, one couldn’t help but be impressed with the air of fanatical energy. The Emperor himself, as the cameras came around to face him, played his part perfectly; his features were compressed into an expression of controlled anger, as he stared down at his subjects, the image of barbaric splendor. The generous amount of gold on his ceremonial armor glittered and shone in the spotlights, standing out against the midnight-black steel that made up most of it. He was flanked by members of the Inner Court, each in similarly formal dress, as well as by a number of Immortals with their assault rifles held rigidly across their chests.

After a minute or so of this sort of introduction, the cameras stopped panning around and refocused on the Emperor, who stepped forward and, after a moment, began to speak.

“Citizens, subjects, I do not think I need to tell you why I feel the need to speak before you tonight. You have heard the speeches. A great and terrible blasphemy is taking place, such that it merits my personal attention, and we are all aware who the criminal is. Out of Alexander Kazansky’s own mouth I accuse him.

“He has conspired to destroy the Freeks, among our most noble and valued brothers. He has built a coalition of fiends, of heathens, to accomplish this goal, which he is far too weak to undertake himself. He has plotted, and deceived, and now at last he unleashes his hounds against all of Gholgoth. All of Gholgoth. Let no one be deceived: if any dishonorable cur should whimper that this is not our fight, despite the sacred oaths I myself have taken to defend our brothers overseas, he should remember that he faces a horde of heathens just as surely as Lord Vladius does!

“No, the madman Kazansky does not intend some sort of purge. He does not intend to spare Velkyans but murder Freeks, nor to spare cowards but murder those who resist him. And let this fact steel those of you who would forget what we face. This is an existential threat, the most terrible of blasphemies. Kazansky would not only trample our allies, would tear asunder all of the bonds that make Gholgoth what it is, but if he had half a chance, his lackeys would be here among us now, defiling the holy places of Korronis and burning all that we have labored for centuries to perfect. Tell me, my subjects, should we allow this?”

Across the Empire, billions of Kregaians roared in unison, “No!”

“Never! Not while a single breath remains in any of us! These are our lands, our temples, our homes, and may the gods devour any infidel who would dare profane them!” Ishamael was more animated now, the anger seemingly beginning to slip out of his control…yet another perfect execution of a trick he had performed many times. “My subjects, this is not just another heathen insult. This is not some kind of raid. Make no mistake: a vast force of infidels is coming here, and they would gladly massacre all of us. They would murder every priest, rape every wife, and burn every home. Kregaia is staring into the barrel of a gun, a gun held in the hand of Alexander Kazansky.

“Our task is clear. We are the bearers of a sacred duty: it is our task to guard Veritas, to keep its fire alive. The infidels seek to extinguish it, and that I will not allow. Alexander Kazansky, I accuse you of the greatest of all blasphemies. The trial is approaching. And although my arm reaches far indeed, I doubt even I can bring you in chains before me to bear witness to your several appalling insults; coward that you are, I have no doubt that your hidey-holes are very deep, and very numerous.” He paused, smiling mockingly as his audience laughed.

“Instead,” he went on, his expression cold once more, “I will try your soldiers in your place. You have sent many substitutes, but I intend to put them all to the test. Justice is on our side; they shall meet justice, and each shall either be destroyed or spared. But we have a saying in Kregaia: the gods alone grant clemency.” Again his audience laughed.

“Kregaians, this invasion is a threat, indeed, and an insult, but it is also a test. It is a gift, an opportunity given to us to prove once more to the gods that we are worthy of their favor. And in order to crush this heathen army as justice requires, we must be prepared to make any sacrifice. We must exert every conceivable effort, or there is an unacceptable chance of failure. I will not leave the fate of my Imperium to chance. And therefore I require the best efforts of each and every one of you to fight this war that is upon us. I have asked that the auguries be taken regarding the proclamation of a crusade. This is what we face.

“Similarly, I have ordered measures to be taken to prepare Kregaia for a wartime economy. We have precious time to prepare our defenses; every hour is crucial. I hereby proclaim a Phase 1, Level 1 mobilization order to be in effect. Our armies will swell, our cities will be fortified, and when the infidels come against us, sorely unprepared, we shall annihilate them.

Ishamael was passionate now, his gestures becoming more and more grand and aggressive as his voice began to rise with anger. He was a master at displaying whatever emotions he deemed necessary, and it was working: in the Great Forum, and in front of televisions all across Kregaia, xenophobic rage was roaring in every heart. An emotion that, as generations of Emperors had learned, was an extremely potent tool; and it burned brighter and brighter as the Emperor thundered his peroration.

“Never forget, Kregaians, that the most important weapon of all is not any kind of missile, nor a gun or a warship. Such weapons can fail or be destroyed. The only true weapon is that which has never failed us, that which we have always had: faith. Because we obey the gods, because they favor us, we have never known any outcome but victory. As long as we are armed in faith, the Allanean heathens cannot hope to defeat us, nor any of their vile cohorts. Faith is why no one has defeated us. Faith is why no one can defeat us. Faith is why the Allaneans will not defeat us, and it is why before we hunt down and execute Kazansky, we will slaughter every last blasphemous one of them!”

The crowd roared with savage approval. All across Kregaia, the people were standing, shouting, screaming their delight and their obedience to the will of their god-king. The crusade, for all intents and purposes, had begun.

* * *

“Hardly my best speech,” Ishamael muttered to Imperator Malustar as he walked down from the Rostra, striding back towards the Palace.

“Maybe not, Great Lord,” Malustar replied quietly, “but it hardly matters. They’re ready.”

He had a point, Ishamael had to admit. The roars of the crowd behind him made that very clear. Tomorrow they would begin filing into mobilization centers, millions of them, beginning re-training processes to prepare them for front-line duties. Factories would begin churning out weapons, warships would begin returning to Korronis to await further orders, and the priests would begin carrying out human sacrifices on a massive scale, all aimed at pleasing the gods and requesting their most lavish favors. And as the Emperor glanced back at them, he couldn’t help but smirk in anticipation. The Allaneans and their allies could send all the soldiers they wanted…but he had a nation of fanatics screaming for blood.

“Mischief, thou art afoot,” he quoted, still smirking, and he walked back to the Palace, the shouts of his subjects ringing in his ears.

* * *

There were not many nations on earth that had perfected the science of mobilization to the degree that Kregaia had. The Office of Logistics and Mobilization was one of the largest sub-sections of the Armed Forces (other than the Legions, Navy, and Air Force), and it was a common joke that it ruined the best minds in the Imperium. Thousands upon thousands of promising young minds were installed there every year, and the sheer stress of meticulously planning the movement, training, and supply of millions of men meant that these desk officers were plagued with extremely high rates of nervous collapse and other complications of stress. But there was no denying they were effective at their job, and they were the gears and drive shafts that enabled the Kregaian Imperial Armed Forces to move.

A complete Phase 1, Level 1 mobilization had been ordered, and this massive movement was soon underway. The Kregaian conscription system required a great deal of infrastructure and manpower to make it run at full efficiency, given its size: every single male in the Empire received two years of military training upon turning 16, received a month of re-training every year, and could be conscripted into the Legions at theoretically any time until they turned 55. Level 1 of Phase 1 consisted of the most physically fit, ideologically reliable citizens between the ages of 18 and 26...and consisted of over two hundred million men. At 6 AM the morning after the Emperor's speech, across the Empire, conscripts began flooding into processing centers. They were divided into pre-registered units and sent off for retraining at a fort or other military installation, where they would remain under the stern discipline of drill sergeants for two weeks, being retrained in the techniques they learned years earlier. By the time enemy warships were approaching Kregaian waters, countless millions of conscripted Legionaries would stand ready to repel their invasion. And at the same time, vast numbers of tanks, artillery, and other heavy machinery were brought out of storage and, after routine maintenance checks, were sent to depots to await being attached to newly-formed units.

Meanwhile, the Navy was scrambling to achieve the total recall ordered by Emperor Ishamael. This was not something that took merely a few hours or days; Kregaian battlegroups were spread out all over Gholgoth, performing such varied tasks as patrolling for enemy ships, escorting trade convoys, or even conducting research. Recalling all of them back to Korronis was a difficult task indeed. However, the coded message to return to port was sent out immediately after Ishamael's speech, and there was no disobeying that order: every captain, every admiral, upon receiving that message, immediately began wrapping up his business and set about returning to the Bloody City. Ironically, at the same time, many battlegroups were being sent out from that very port, specifically ordered to begin the massive process of laying sea mines, hydrophones, MADs, torpedo buoys, and the other ocean defenses that would thin the enemy's numbers. The defense of Gholgoth would require quite possibly the biggest minefield in human history, and the Kregaians were determined to do their part to create it.

Then there were the coastal defenses. Korronis itself was near-impregnable, as centuries of constantly-upgraded fortifications had predictably accomplished; everything from the massive Godhammer system to the remote-controlled minefields to the countless shore guns had never yet been penetrated by an attacker from the sea. Nevertheless, the Armed Forces had soon hired hundreds of contractors to further upgrade and toughen the city's defenses. As the political, financial, military, cultural, and logistical nerve center of the Empire, it was the logical target for any invasion attempt. Of course, this did not mean the rest of the country was ignored; countless more workers were hired by the Imperium and dispatched to the eastern and southern coasts. Engineers and laborers swarmed over beaches and cliffs, evaluating access points, plotting overlapping fields of fire, erecting hazards, and otherwise working 24/7 to fortify Kregaian shores. Of course, a decisive naval battle might make these vast efforts unnecessary; however, a wise man hedges his bets, and the Emperor was not willing to gamble the security of his shores on the ability of even his massive Navy to crush the enemy before they even laid eyes on their target.

And finally, there was the home front. Economically, the effects of millions of men leaving their jobs for the military would have a significant effect; however, each year when a man eligible for conscription went off to his month of retraining, a person not eligible for conscription but still capable of doing the work (such as an older man or, for jobs not involving management, a spouse or female relative) filled in for them at their job, learning how to replace them in case of an actual mobilization. This made the process far smoother, albeit certainly not perfectly smooth, and the shift went ahead with a minimum of difficulties. The larger transition, however, was the transition to a war economy. Mere weeks earlier, Kregaia had been facing severe economic contraction due to overproduction in the arms industry, the largest sector of the economy; now, of course, this would not be a problem. Already the Imperium was placing massive orders for everything from bullets to spare parts for reactors, and the megacorporations that dominated this industry were churning them out, their vast factories (many of them already fortified, and the rest soon to be) humming with activity.

The days ahead would be long, and filled with heavy labor and considerable expense. But then, total war was not something to be undertaken lightly. And with propaganda increasingly filling the air, being solemnly announced on news broadcasts, read on posters, and fiercely asserted from pulpits, the war fever was building. Thirty days, give or take; thirty days to fill the sea with mines, to assemble a massive army and fleet, to fortify half a continent, and every day, huge enemy fleets drew nearer and nearer.

Tick tock, tick tock.

[Democratic Colonies]

The buildup had been continuing for quite some time. Military equipment was brought out of underground hangers, exposed to sunlight and fresh air for the first time in years. Warships forty years old were brought out of mothballs, retrofitted and upgraded for active service.

It had been a confusing time for the people of the Democratic Colonies as they saw the military grow in what was supposed to be a time of peace. Politicians who hadn't been briefed on the reasons complained, and concerned citizens took to the streets in protest as government coffers were poured into munitions manufacturing and military reactivation. It had been difficult, but at Rally Point Magenta, was the product of the build up at last - a combined fleet with destructive capabilities beyond anything before it in DC military history. Over ten thousand warships, albeit none of them of recent design or manufacture, held position at the rallying point with their supporting supply vessels awaiting the order from the operation commander to sail to what would no doubt be a bloody and costly war.

While the primary fleet waited at Rally Point Magenta, the seas between it and Gholgoth were not free of DC influence however. Under the waves, 200 Dolphin class and 3,500 Sea Wolf class attack submarines proceeded towards the Kregaian Empire. Their intention was to draw out any waiting submarine ambush intended for the surface fleet, clear a lane for the primary attacking force from Rally Point Magenta to within long range missile range of Kregaia and to keep this lane open and free of hostile submarine harassment.

While Admiral Sommerfeld, the man entrusted with shouldering the heavy responsibility of command for this operation was confident that the Dolphin class submarines could hold their own against whatever submersibles they might encounter on their advance, he was less certain of how his aging Sea Wolfs would perform. The idea of sending young men and women to die in outdated hulls with outdated equipment turned the old Admiral's stomach, but it was a problem that could be seen throughout the DC military, the navy in particular. Retrofitting instead of replacement, service life extension instead of retirement, ready standby yards instead of the scrapyard. These had allowed the navy to grow as the years went by, but now it would be seen if the cost of such numerical growth and peace-time patrol capability would be wartime death and suffering.

[Kahanistan]

Aboard the flagship, Admiral Jenkins received the word: the newly empowered Senate had passed a bill "offering assistance to our Allanean and other allies should they require it." Not a declaration of war, something that still required Praetonian royal assent, but a pledge of assistance, interpreted as an offer of evacuation or transporting supplies should it be needed. Most people in Kahanistan were shy of war, and still worried about a potential Parthian invasion - they had killed over a billion people in two nuclear spams of nations that were less than a twentieth their size, and Kahanistan was widely considered a more serious threat. It wasn't that they liked the Freeks or Kregaians or Kravenites, but as long as they were far away most would leave them alone.

He lowered his head in disgust. What idiots! Who will protect our shores when the Parthians come to our gates? While he had the highest faith in the air force and reserves, Parthian naval supremacy would seriously damage the economy back home at best, and force them to return home, abandoning the Allaneans, at worst.

The fleet was by now fully assembled, four thousand warships and six hundred submarines, and the Admiral grimly awaited word that their assistance was required. He hoped and prayed that the Allaneans would realise they had a closer threat, one that should not be ignored so blithely. He almost hoped for a Parthian attack - that would at least be on their home turf and easier to fight off than some war on the other side of Gholgoth they didn't give a shit about.

[The Warmaster]

THESE BEING THE WORDS OF THE KREGAIAN IMPERIAL COLLEGE OF PRIESTS

“For it is the truth: as a man of power and virtue is envied by those below him, who are without honor, so shall thy people be envied by the lesser races, who do not know the Truth. Wonder not at their hatred of you; rather, overshadow it with thy hatred of them. Wonder not that they seek to destroy thee; rightly hast thou sought to destroy them. And truly I tell thee, if I am with thy people when they conquer in strange lands, how much nearer shall I be to them if infidels and the impure dare to befoul the domain of Truth?”
-Twilight of the Gods, Book of the Destroyer

“And should the man of honor, the servant of Truth, he of the chosen, fear the profane arms of the forsaken? No: he danceth among spears and singeth before swords; he casteth the infidels forth before him, into the darkness, where the torments they have earned await them. He laugheth among ruin and storm, and saith unto the thunder: Ha, ha.”
-Twilight of the Gods, Meditations of the Warmaster

BE IT RESOLVED THIS DAY, IF IT PLEASETH THE GODS, BY THE CONSENSUS OF THE COLLEGIATE PONTIFFS ASSEMBLED AND BY THE WILL OF HIS DIVINE MAJESTY THE EMPEROR:

WHEREAS a coalition of debauched, impious nations devoid of honor have conspired to destroy the Kregaian Imperium and Kregaian culture, and have sent forth a great force intending to carry out the aforementioned blasphemies;

AND WHEREAS this crime in particular constitutes a deliberate and massive attack upon Kregaia and the Kregaian way of life;

AND WHEREAS such a thing has been defined in the ancient law and the scriptures to be abhorrent to the gods, and to all men of honor and piety;

AND WHEREAS such a crime must necessarily be resisted by the greatest efforts that we under Veritas are able to marshal, that the heathens be smashed and scattered;

LET IT BE RESOLVED that we, the Collegiate Pontiffs assembled, do in accordance with the most holy will of His Divine Majesty the Emperor, and in adherence to the auguries which we have taken as prescribed by the ancient law, HEREBY TESTIFY AND BEAR WITNESS TO the manifest desire of the gods to smash the most insolent and blasphemous attempt of this league of heathen nations to subjugate blessed Kregaia and spit upon Veritas, and PROCLAIM that all those of the chosen who would offer their blood for the gods are henceforth under the mark of Crusade, ad majorem gloriam Deorum.

* * *

“Imperator, good morning,” Ishamael called as he strode into the War Room, buried deep underground beneath the Palace. His eyes took a second to get adjusted to the shadowy room, lit almost entirely by the glow of innumerable screens, from individual desktop monitors to the massive strategic display mounted on the far wall, a screen that could put an IMAX theater to shame. Imperator Malustar, the man he had been addressing, stood near the front of the command section, which overlooked the rest of the room, turning at the sound of the Emperor’s voice.

“Good morning, Great Lord,” he replied, bowing.

“Have you heard the news from the College?” the Emperor inquired, walking to the railing.

“I’m afraid not. But I think I can guess.”

Ishamael nodded, smiling slightly. “They took the auguries last night. It’s officially a crusade. Consequently, I’ve pledged one percent of my entire fortune to pay for improvements to Korronis’s defenses. I’ll be calling for Lord Antiochus and the other…members of the highest financial circles to make similar pledges.”

Anton Malustar was not a man given to excessive displays of emotion, but his jaw dropped for a second when he heard that. Only the Emperor could speak of spending a few hundred billion dollars in the same casual tone as he might have discussed clipping his fingernails. Shoving aside his surprise, the Imperator inquired, “What brings you down here this morning, Divine One?”

“I want to check on the preparations,” he replied, turning to look at a large tactical display behind him. “I realize, of course, not much can have been done in the past few days. I received your analysis, by the way,” Ishamael added. “I approve of your proposals. Have them carried out. I wouldn’t go so far as to say money is not an object…but this is a crusade, after all. Crush them first, worry about the money later.”

“Very good, Great Lord.”

Ishamael pointed to an inset on the tactical display. “That, there. Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s a satellite image of one of their fleets, yes?”

“We believe so,” Malustar answered. Gathering intelligence about the invasion had proven difficult, as the Intelligence Division had hitherto paid little attention to Greater Prussia; however, the Kregaian satellite network was extensive and so far the enemy had made no moves to disable it. “As you can see by the count down here, we’re estimating approximately ten thousand warships here, identified as belonging to the Democratic Colonies.” Ishamael said nothing, merely staring at the inset, and after a pause Malustar continued. “The Intelligence Division didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, but apparently they’ve been gearing up for quite a while. We have records of public protests by both politicians and the rabble against a military buildup.”

“Those should have been sent to me,” Ishamael said absently. At least it seemed absent. If there was one thing the Imperator had learned over long years of working with Ishamael, it was that he was always paying attention. But then, the fault there was Lucius Kressh’s, not his.

The Emperor straightened and shrugged. “What’s done is done. Ten thousand…impressive.”

“Director Kressh tells me that those we can identify appear to be older classes, Great Lord. It’s safe to say most of them are mothballs.”

“Hm.” Ishamael straightened. “Well, we’ve still got about four weeks. Lucius had better find out more about the Colonies, and the constitution of this fleet.” He cocked an eyebrow at Malustar. “This is it? Nothing else?”

Indicating another inset, he replied, “Well, Great Lord, there are also satellite images indicating a gathering of Kahanistani warships. This one is much smaller, estimated at a little under four thousand ships, although we’re not quite sure.”

Ishamael smirked. “You’re joking. The Kahanistanis? They’re going to attack us?”

“It would seem so, Great Lord.” Malustar couldn’t help smiling a little as well. The reputation of the Kahanistani military, at least among Kregaians, was so bad as to be legendary. The Imperium had once even sent a military advisor to them, after the conquest of their lands by the Doomani, to outline the mistakes in their campaign.

“Two nations. Fourteen thousand warships.” The smirk vanished from the Emperor’s face. “That we know of. Fourteen thousand will not be enough to beat us, and Kazansky has to know it. I would be an idiot to assume he’s that much of an idiot.” Malustar held his tongue; there was little to gain by interrupting Ishamael when he was being thoughtful. “Until the Intelligence Division can show me different, I will assume that there are significant other foreign forces we don’t know about.”

“Very good, Great Lord.” It was a wise assumption indeed. It was difficult to believe Kazansky would invest so much effort in this and then prepare such an inadequate force; undoubtedly he had further allies waiting in the wings to attack Kregaia that the Intelligence Division simply had not uncovered yet.

“Before I go, Imperator, I have a suggestion, and I’d like your opinion on it. As you know, it will not be possible to construct significant numbers of new warships before the enemy is upon is. There is, however, a quick way of obtaining more warships.” The corner of Ishamael’s mouth twitched in distaste. “We could confiscate the Gothic ships we’ve been building.”

For a moment, Malustar was shocked again. Some time back, both Generia and Tersanctus had placed massive orders with Kregaian Fleet Works, Inc. to construct thousands of Kregaian vessels to replace the aging ships of their own navies. The company (in which Ishamael owned a majority stake) gladly accepted, of course, despite the sheer scope of the project, as it brought trillions of foreign dollars into the Empire. The task was now more than half done, and many of the finished vessels had been sent back to their owners, but hundreds of nearly-finished warships remained within Kregaian reach. Seizing them would be…well, ‘rude’ didn’t cover it. It would border on outright betrayal. He had to be cautious, however. “Great Lord, I…I am not sure that the consequences of such an action would be acceptable. The diplomatic fallout…”

“Yes, that is the obvious point.” Ishamael sounded slightly irritable, as if he expected his Imperator to come up with something more far-sighted. “But it provides us with just under a thousand additional warships on short notice. We can pay them back with interest for any losses. And besides, neither the Generians nor the Tersanctans appear to be under any immediate threat. At any rate, I will continue to consider it.” And with that, the Emperor turned and strode out of the room, leaving the War Room to see to some other aspect of the grand undertaking.

* * *

It had been one day and one night since Ishamael’s address and the formal beginning of the war, and the mobilization was fully in motion; indeed, even more effort had been hurled into it since the College of Priests had pronounced the conflict to constitute a crusade. And it had quickly become a grand movement indeed.

Kregaia is riddled with military installations, from the small to the large. Arms caches exist in the countryside and in cities, maintained for the purpose of arming the populace in case of foreign occupation; in the frozen tundra of the north and the empty grasslands of central Kregaia, missile bases dotted the landscape, bristling with hardened silos…from submarine pens to supply depots to full-blown forts, the Kregaian Imperial Armed Forces are everywhere. Part of this is out of the necessity of effectively handling the very movement which was underway. At the very moment when Ishamael was walking out of the War Room, over two hundred million conscripts were being ruthlessly drilled by a little under two million Lieutenants. A full Level 1, Phase 1 mobilization had never been ordered in modern history, but partial mobilizations had been carried out many times, and these conscripts were only a few years away from their initial training at most, not to mention the periodic re-training all Kregaian males had to undergo. Walls were being climbed, rifles fired, tanks driven; a vast force was being readied to defend the Empire, surely far bigger than anything the Allanean coalition could hope to land.

Within ten days of the beginning of the war, almost all the battlegroups of the Navy were back in Korronis’s vast harbors. Standing on the shore and looking north into the Gold Sea, the entire ocean seemed to bristle with warships, dominated by the fifteen massive flagships of the Apophis-class. Over twenty thousand warships…it was an extremely impressive sight. Unfortunately, all these thousands of ships, and the millions of men crewing them, had little to do for the time being; day by day the enemy drew nearer, but the time to dispatch the fleet to intercept them was not yet.

In the meantime, a vast system of defenses had been set up at sea, in the path of the enemy fleets. Despite the difficulties in creating an effective minefield in the open ocean, millions of mines had been laid in broad swathes across the ocean, covering a truly vast area. Millions of square kilometers were now extremely dangerous to anyone who didn’t know where the Kregaian mines had been laid, or in other words, anyone not in Gholgoth. A token announcement was made warning neutral shipping interests to be careful in Gothic waters, but in reality the Imperium cared little for such things. The important thing was that the enemy would already have been blooded before they faced the Imperial Navy.

The minefields were as complex as they were extensive. Two main belts existed, large curves blocking off the most direct route to Kregaia; each was roughly 1300 kilometers deep and 4000 kilometers wide, separated from each other by 3500 kilometers of sea. Each was filled with several million mines, of two different varieties; about half were programmed to respond to acoustic signatures, while the other half were activated by magnetic signals. Much smaller mine clusters were scattered around and between the two major minefields. Some of the mines were programmed only to attack larger ships, such as battleships or carriers; others would only seek out a target after a number of ships had already passed over them. Moreover, CAPTOR mines were scattered throughout the minefields and out in front of them for a few dozen kilometers, to attack any submarines attempting to sweep the mines. In total, there were about twelve million Kregaian mines out there in the ocean: no mean effort. In fact, it had involved thousands of aircraft, submarines, and modified cargo ships. The expense of all this, of course, was considerable. But crusades, despite the extra effort, were actually easier to finance than a “normal” war; voluntary donations from private citizens increased massively overnight, and in fact it was mandatory during a crusade to pay a tithe on one’s earnings to the Imperium, replacing the optional tithe paid to one’s local temple at other times. With all the money pouring into the Imperium's coffers, financing even such an undertaking as these minefields was hardly a drastic expenditure.

* * *

CLASSIFIED: TOP SECRET-III
Kregaian Imperial Armed Forces, Office of Strategic Planning

A Strategic Plan for the Defense of Kregaia [excerpt]
CASE ONYX

…Under the assumptions of this plan, hostile nations pose such a threat to the continued stability of the Imperium as to legally justify the proclamation of a crusade. Therefore the College of Priests must be directed to take the relevant auguries and, if they are favorable, issue the aforementioned proclamation as soon as war becomes unavoidable. This is because, first, in such a situation as this plan assumes, there is a significant possibility of a successful enemy landing on Kregaian soil; in order to respond to such a landing with optimal efficiency, measures such as conscription, economic mobilization, and extensive fortification must be carried out, all of which would be justified and streamlined by the religious sanction of a crusade. Second, the effect of a crusade on civilian and military morale has historically been highly positive, and it is therefore desirable to pursue this option. Third, it may become necessary to arm the populace and form resistance groups, which will be easier for the people to accept once they are under the mark of crusade…

…Extensive minefields will be a valuable method of thinning the enemy’s numbers before they encounter defending forces. However, the size of the minefields must be extreme, as modern naval tactics will require a properly deployed fleet of thousands of vessels to take up a huge area. Hence, about a week and a half at least will be required to complete a minefield of sufficient size on the open ocean. Aid in this should be sought from other Gothic nations; any aid that they can provide would be welcome, and the more enemy ships are cheaply sunk by mines, the fewer remain to face and threaten Kregaian vessels. It is also advisable to devote at least a week to reinforcing the minefields around Korronis, other coastal cities, and any sites on the coast suitable for the landing of a large invasion force. Such sites have been identified as…

…It is a truism that any obstacle conceals an opportunity, and even in the case of an existential threat to the Imperium this remains true. Although it may be difficult, to decisively and, if possible, quickly defeat an invasion force would necessarily earn a useful measure of respect from foreign nations. The attackers would hardly be so quick to provoke the Imperium again, and in some cases may even be left vulnerable to counter-invasion. Neutrals would be impressed by Kregaian (and by extension, Gothic) strength, possibly leading to the acquisition of useful and honorable allies. And of course, a quick and impressive victory would help to fulfill the directives of His Divine Majesty’s recent edict regarding relations with non-hostile states [see: Edict 804-LXXXII]…

[end of excerpt]

[Democratic Colonies]

"To be frank, Mr. Secretary, I have serious concerns about both the readiness and the ability of our forces to conduct this operation."

"With all due respect, Senator, I believe you were one of the greatest supporters of the bill to retire two of our four superdreadnaughts, and further mothball the Navy."

"Perhaps if the entirety of the Senate had been informed of the brewing conflict, of the war that was planned behind our backs - "

"Gentlemen!"

The table fell silent at the voice of President Morgan Leigh. Defense Secretary Davison and Senator Borgia glared at each other as the President repeated herself. "Gentlemen," she said, more quietly this time. "There is a time and a place to discuss the details of our domestic politics, but while our people are fighting and dying is not that time."

President Leigh, the sole woman in the room, took a moment to look each man around the circular table in the eye. Davison sat to her left, alongside a host of uniformed and decorated military men, while Foreign Secretary Neil Jaeger sat to her right, accompanied by a party of smartly suited diplomats and intelligence officials. This arrangement left, much to President's Leigh's displeasure, the side of the table facing her to the very angry Senator Borgia and his posse of irate legislators.

"Now," Leigh said in a commanding tone, staring at Borgia as if challenging him to interrupt her. "Secretary Davison was giving us a report. Please, Mr. Davison, continue."

"Yes, Madam President," said Davison as he made a point of ignoring Borgia. "Now, copies of Admiral Sommerfeld's latest logs have been made available to you, but the summary of the situation is simple. Our strategy of sending forward the submarines to engage hostile submarines lying in ambush has proven unnecessary, as the Kregaians have opted to retreat behind massive minefields. No Kregaian submarines lie in wait, as far as we can tell, only thousands upon thousands of mines. Our first submarines to make contact with the mines unfortunately did not survive the encounter, and we've lost at least two dozen Sea Wolves to them."

"Two dozen attack submarines, lost for nothing?" asked Senator Borgia incredulously. "Was this situation not planned for? Are we totally unprepared for the slightest - "

"This situation was one of many possibilities which we accounted for," interrupted Davison, trying to talk over Borgia.

"Then how do you explain over two thousand dead sailors with nothing to show for it!" demanded Borgia, before President Leigh again once again raised her voice.

"Senator Borgia!" Leigh snapped. "At this juncture I do not care in the slightest that you and your committee were not advised of the planning for this current action. I will remind you that you and the Legislative Armed Services Committee's presence here is not vital in any way, and should you continue to disrupt the business of this meeting, I will have you removed. Do you understand?"

Borgia shot Davison an icy stare, before reluctantly leaning back in his seat. "Of course, Madam President. I will allow my, ahem, most esteemed colleague to continue," he said with barely constrained contempt.

"As the Senator from Andromeda has expressed a concern, I will explain that we suffered more than anticipated losses in our first encounters with the mine field due to the highly complex and varied nature of the mines," said Davison, speaking of Borgia but deliberately avoiding looking in his direction. "The Kregaian mines are fitted with a variety of sensor types, and a variety of triggers. On a few occasions, our submarines were lost as upon detecting something suspicious with their passive arrays, they proceeded to activate their active sonars and 'ping' the mines, which resulted in their triggering them. More often, as our submarines moved closer to investigate possibly hostile sonar readings which in many cases were deployed anti-ship mines, CAPTOR anti-submarine mines were able to target and destroy them."

"I appreciate your usage of layman's terms, Secretary," said the President. "It would seem that submarine based mine clearing will not be a feasible option for this operation then?"

"Absolutely not," said Davison. "Which is why I would like permission to move the surface fleet towards the Kregaian Imperium. Mine clearing helicopters and carrier-borne aircraft, the trained dolphins deployed from our Cetacean Operations support vessels, the Hunt class anti-mine ships - these, in combination, may be able to clear our naval task force a path through the field."

"They could, however, be vulnerable during this phase," said one of the uniformed military men, and older man with gray and thinning hair. "Should the Kregaians attack the task force with long range strategic bombers based on their mainlands, our task force would be moving at a slower overall speed than in operations in open waters, and their position would no doubt be known to the Kregaians with pinpoint accuracy. They'll be able to track our progress through the minefield, sharpen their focus on our slow and cautious forces with acoustic sensors they've no doubt seeded, and get high resolution satellite photos of a task force with a known and predictable path."

"What about attack from the Kregaian Navy, their own fleets?" asked Leigh. "Isn't that just as likely a threat?"

"They appear to be holding their surface fleet back," replied an intelligence official from Leigh's right. "We're still working with our alliance partners to gather as much data as possible on the specifics of the Kregaian Imperial Navy, and are sending reports to Admiral Sommerfeld and his staff at sea as soon as they are available."

"Speaking of alliance partners, where are they?" asked Leigh. "The DC Navy task force - this 'Task Force Eclipse,' it was not meant to fight the entirety of the Kregaian Navy on its own."

"It is not capable of fighting the entirety of the Kregaian Navy on its own!" said Senator Borgia.

President Leigh looked over at Davidson and the men in uniform, her expectation for an agreement or a rebuttal clear on her face.

"I wouldn't count us out of a one-on-one, but things are far from optimal," admitted one of the admirals grimly.

"We're in contact with our alliance partners," offered Foreign Secretary Jaeger, nervously twirling a pen in his hand. In comparison to the gray old Senators and Admirals, the foreign secretary looked positively youthful as he was in his mid-forties. "We have been assured that our alliance partners remain committed to the task at hand, and assured that their fleets will arrive in force."

"I'd rather superdreadnaughts than vague assurances," said Leigh.

"Admiral Sommerfeld's orders are to avoid any decisive engagement with the Kregaian Navy until alliance reinforcement arrives," offered Davidson.

"He's a good man - a real Cold Warrior, from our time starring down mutually assured destruction with the Communist Mississippians, not one of these young pups promoted to fill the retirement gaps," added one of the uniformed men by Davidson's side. "He knows when to charge, and when to retreat. He'll do the right thing."

"And if his hand is forced?" asked Leigh. "If the Kregaian Navy comes at his task force en masse, and he is not able to avoid a decisive engagement?"

"Then we'll get to see how an unprepared navy fights against a Gholgothic warmachine," said Borgia accusingly.

"You don't have any right to say that after the Legislative Assembly's most recent round of budget cuts!" replied Davison angrily.

President Leigh shook her head as the two men once again locked horns. It would be a long meeting for the only woman in the room.

[Wanderjar]

"Hold this piece, right here," said the man to his son, handing him the tractor hitch. The boy, or rather man, as he was in his early twenties, grabbed the piece and held it steady. "There you go, now let me raise it up," the older man said, pulling back on the handle raising the tractor's metal attachments, bringing the Bush Hog mower up with it. "There, put that piece in the socket. There!" he said excitedly when his son put the piece on, and the metal bolt which held the device together slid through and stuck. "We've got it. Now its ready." His son nodded, and stepped back, while his father turned on the tractor and pulled it off into the field.

"Admiral?" asked the Battlegroup Operations Officer (G3), Commander Piet Joubert, "Are you okay sir?"

"Yes," the Admiral said, shaking out of his memory, "I'm fine. Sorry," he added laughing, "I was back on the veld."

"Sir, with some luck we'll all be back on the veld shortly. Until then, the Kregaian fleet is within strike range. Shall we engage?"

The Admiral thought about this for a moment, and stroked his chin. "Yes, have all ships deploy their ballistics, target capital ships and carriers. Also, have all carrier helicopters deploy their anti-shipping ordnance, as well as fighters and strike bombers. Once they get in range, order all ships open up with guns too. In the name of God, kill them all. Inform the rest of the fleet to do the same."

"We're going to burn them," Joubert hissed. "By tonights end the entire Kregaian Navy will be at the bottom of the ocean. Communications Officers relayed the information throughout the entire armada, thousands of ships designated to participate in the eradication of Kregaia's Naval forces received and understood their orders. Within minutes, ballistic missiles of varying sizes rocketed from firing tubes across the fleet, and took off at hypersonic speeds towards their targets. Naval Aviators catapulted off carrier decks and assumed formations to release their missile complement at a distance, as did heavier maritime strike bombers and helicopters. Submarines deployed their missiles, which forced themselves to the surface and leapt into the sky like great whales, becoming avian and soaring towards their objectives. Soon the men of the Kregaian Navy would die by the hand of God, and His harbingers of that death, the Afrikaners.

(OOC: Terribly sorry for the piss poor post, inumerable difficulties resulted in this hastily written and poorly devised post. It'll do though! Gets my point across. I promise that the following posts will be better.)