Marenham, Thames River
Sarnia
"Get down! Get the fuck down!"
Gareth Andrews glanced in the direction of his corporal. He saw a growing grey smoke trail. Approaching. He threw his body to the ground.
Behind the rifleman, the Jaguar infantry fighting vehicle went silent.
"What the—"
And then it exploded, showering Andrews and the rest of his section in a rain of hot metal debris.
"Suppressing fire," the sergeant yelled, pointing towards the centre of the smoke cloud. "Bryce, Andrews, Riley, Carson, move up." Andrews grabbed his L76 and waited for the fireteam support weapon to rip into the brick wall across the way.
Like most cities in Thames River, Marenham reported to no central authority. The central government had long since fallen leaving the cities and territories to carve their own path through the anarchy and violence that now beset the former country. Some cities managed to keep control in the hands of the Anglo-Sarnian population. Others had fallen to the forces of the native Marerians. And yet others, like Marenham, were entirely lawless with different neighbourhoods controlled by different parties.
Andrews and the rest of his fireteam darted across the city park, finding cover midway across behind a headless statue of some city founder. The group looked up as a distant explosion deafened their own firefight. The explosion came from somewhere near the lieutenant's command. Andrews refocused on the brick wall now only a few metres away. As the smoke was clearing he could see a small hole in the wall, neatly made through the removal of a few choice bricks.
After tapping the shoulder of Lance-Corporal Bryce, Andrews pointed towards the hole to which Bryce simply nodded. As the fireteam grenadier, Andrews' rifle sported a UGL76 underslung grenade launcher that he quickly loaded, aimed, and fired.
The wall exploded and the automatic weapons fire coming from behind the wall stopped.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!"
Bryce tapped Andrews and the two dashed to the wall and quickly cleared the area near the newly blasted hole. Andrews climbed over the rubble and found himself behind the wall with three dead Marerians, wearing jeans and t-shirts with AK-47s besides them. He checked for a final, live grenade as the Marerians were known to use to surprise Oceanian troops. Finding none, he waved Bryce and the rest of the team through the wall.
And then besides the furthest Marerian Andrews spotted what had surprised the section. An anti-tank missile system. "Here, sir," he called to Bryce. The two bent down and examined the weapon and then the casing for the additional rounds. The grenadier watched as Bryce put aside his rifle and pulled out a digital camera. He snapped a few photos of the weapon system and then replaced the camera in his pocket.
"Bryce," the corporal yelled from across the way, "quicken it."
"Alright," the lance-corporal then added, addressing the three other men. "You heard the man, lay the charge and move out."
The Citadel
Georgetown, New Britain
United Kingdom of Oceania
The early summer heat baked the Oceanian capital while a humid Pacific air mass choked the residents, at least those who had not fled to the Brittany Mountains for the weekend. Tourists, never to be discouraged, queued along the brickwork of an old complex sitting atop a hill along the south bank of the New Thames River. They carried bottles of water and fanned their faces with their maps and papers. Street vendors offered additional beverages, battery-powered fans and other novelties for a few pounds more than would be charged elsewhere in the city.
Behind the brick walls and battlements, a wide cobblestoned plaza spotted with small gardens and fountains surrounded a cluster of brick buildings. Built in the early Georgian period, the complex known as the Citadel, had been designed to defend the then British colony from attacks by foreign colonial powers on nearby islands. Originally a small garrison, the Citadel grew along with Georgetown as the centre of maritime trade in the northern reaches of Celaria. By the early 20th century, it had become the centre of government not just for Georgetown but the British colony of New Britain.
The greatest expansion, however, occurred after independence when the dozens of colonies about the continent became a single independent state with its single capital located, as a compromise, in Georgetown. In the following decades, the complex evolved from the mere residence of the Prime Minister into the symbolic centre of Oceanian power.
The 21st century had seen numerous improvements in security, communications, and amenities for the buildings of some three centuries' age. Regrettably for the cabinet secretaries and ministers assembled that day, the Cabinet Room made due only with window-based air-conditioners that only half-worked. Half of the time.
At the centre of the long rectangular table, Ashley Thomason presided over a meeting of over a dozen men and women. Typically briefings and security updates were conducted in the privacy of her office, however, the air-conditioning in that room was working not at all.
Thomason, fifty-nine with her hair now white, had celebrated her second full year in office only a few months ago. She had succeeded Rodney Ingraham, a Tory, after his party collapsed in the 2009 general election. However, like most recent prime ministers, Thomason's government was a coalition largely between her Democratic Socialists and the Novikovian Liberal Democrats along with a few other smaller parties.
The 2009 election had brought not just Thomason to power, but also signified one of the milestones of Oceanian history as the former colony of Oceanian Atrea, a former territory of the Atrean Empire located in Nova, became a full-fledged member of the United Kingdom. And while the accession of Oceanian Atrea had been a cause for celebration throughout the United Kingdom and the Oceanian Empire, two years later the regional problems were increasingly the Empire's problems.
Thomason's chief of staff, Howard Robertson, had organised the meeting after he received an intelligence update from the Ministry of Defence three days earlier. The bald-headed veteran politico sat to Thomason's right. His cane, which he needed not, served as a reminder to all in the room of the event that led to the Tory collapse in the 2009 election.
In 2008, Robertson, then the aide to Lord Salisbury, had accompanied Salisbury, leader of the opposition, and King George along with others on a royal visit to the Oceanian Sarnia. The trip created a controversy as the king had accompanied not the prime minister, Ingraham, but his opponent in the election whose campaign had just begun, a clear breach of the sovereign's position above Oceanian politics. However, all became moot when Marerian separatists ambushed the royal convoy and assassinated King George. But in the same attack, the Marerians managed to also kill Lord Salisbury and the shadow foreign secretary—the political and intellectual leaders of the Democratic Socialists.
Robertson survived with a broken leg, but still organised and ran the election campaign for the party. The utter failure to protect King George and Lord Salisbury, the man responsible for creating the United Kingdom of Oceania and then building its empire, cost Ingraham and the Tories the election. Robertson then organised the selection of Thomason as party leader and crafted the coalition that put Thomason in the Citadel. He now rapped his cane against the table's edge to bring the room to attention.
"As you all know," Thomason began, "we are continuing our stabilisation operation in Thames River. New, however, is that several days ago now, one of our infantry units entered into a firefight with Marerian forces in the port city of Marenham. While we suffered casualties in the skirmish, we did secure valuable intelligence, photos of which Howard will now pass out."
Robertson distributed glossy prints of Lance-Corporal Bryce's photos. "What you are seeing," he said while handing out the prints, "ladies and gentlemen, remains classified. The photos are not to leave this room."
Thomason waited for Robertson to finish before she continued. "I have asked you all here this weekend because after reviewing these photos, the MoD believes that the situation in Sarnia," she deliberately used the ever-popular political euphemism for the conflict, "may once again be reaching a level of intensity that imperils the Crown. And that, as you all know, cannot stand." She nodded in the direction of the brown-haired, middle-aged man sitting across from her. "Lord Bailey, if you would be so kind as to review the photos."
Daniel Blair, Earl of Bailey, was the Secretary of State for Defence and the civilian head of the armed forces of the United Kingdom—save the Royal Navy. Despite his relative youth at the table, he was, like Robertson, a veteran of the Salisbury years from when the Marquess of Salisbury was simply Alistair Tetley. He had previously been the Defence Secretary when the Novikovians launched a surprise attack against the United Kingdom. Tetley and Blair led the UK in the ensuing war where they eventually prevailed over Novikov. However, the surprise attacks that started the war were a liability that cost Blair his constituency in the subsequent general election.
He had not run in 2009 and had given no indication of wanting to return to front bench politics. However, after her electoral victory, Thomason had him elevated to a peerage, creating him the Earl of Bailey in order to bring a key Salisbury-ally into her government. Congnisant of the potential for lingering Novikovian sensitivities, he selected Dimitri Baracnik as the Minister of State for Novikovian Defence. Lord Bailey had been instrumental in relenting on some of the restrictions on the Novikovian Self Defence Forces in recent years and with those easings, the prominence of Baracnik in the cabinet had grown—hence his presence besides Bailey at the meeting.
"As the Prime Minister hinted," Bailey began, "the primary objective of the operation in Marenham was not intelligence gathering, but to secure a key bridge for the movement of an infantry division west from Birdsboro to Chilsea-on-Niven. However, the advance units quickly encountered stiff resistance along the city's outskirts. Several armoured vehicles were lost to anti-tank units that had weapon systems not previously known to be in their arsenal."
"Ever since the Marerians managed to nuke Marystown, we have been most firm in our pursuit of Marerian resistance cells. Especially those for which we have intelligence indicating possession of sophisticated weapons systems. One of our most successful operations was, if you all recall, perhaps some eighteen months ago when the RIS connected one of the larger Marerian groups in Thames River to a weapons smuggling ring in Shesharlie, a failed state off the coast of Oceanian Atrea in Nova. Our friends in Holy Marsh, during one of their religious operations, managed to significantly disrupt the smuggling ring with some of our intelligence. And so prior to last week the Sarnian situation had been stabilising."
"These photos, however, are most worrisome. Note the labels and lettering on the side of this case here," Bailey pointed to a photo of the spare missiles, "and on the side of the launcher, here," he pointed to the weapon itself. "These indicate that this weapon once was used by the army of Shesharlie. We have been talking with the RIS, GCSC, SIS, and ORNI" Bailey nodded to the heads of each intelligence agency who sat at the ends of the table. "We have satellite imagery, intercepted electronic communications, and human intelligence connecting a Shesharlie-based weapons ring to the Marerians. In short, the nexus between the two groups is reforming. And furthermore, we have partial intelligence that the same weapons-ring is seeking contacts with other anti-Crown organisations throughout the Empire."
As Bailey leaned back into his seat, Thomason leaned forward. "Clearly, we are faced with a problem requiring a swift resolution." She then sat back in her chair. "Suggestions?"
Two seats down from Blair, an older man with thinning grey hair spoke up. "Madam Prime Minister," he began, "if I may?"
"By all means."
Ingemar Edvin Arisen, like Lord Bailey, had been elevated to the peerage to sit in Cabinet, having been created the Earl of Takketfels. Lord Takketfels was the Minister of State for Novan Affairs, whose brief included all things that concerned the Crown in Nova. "We ought to tread carefully in Nova. Despite our seemingly long presence, and the binding power of our trade with the various states in the region, many are wary of our metropolitan status as outsiders to the region. We certainly still have friends, especially through the recent diplomatic actions conducted by the devolved government of Novikov. However, by and large, the region is sensitive to even the impression of imperialism."
"We have kept the number of our forces in Atrea comparatively small," Takketfels continued. "Our naval patrols are typically relegated to the strait between ourselves and Shesharlie, the northern seas, and the approaches to Novikov. And I daresay that these acts have made the region more amenable to our presence. We ought not disrupt the disposition of our forces too significantly if we opt for a military response."
"Madam Prime Minister," another man offered, "I concur." Friedrich Ruggert, another recently created peer, the Earl of Eichebrucke, served as Secretary of State for Atrea. "We enjoy particularly warm relations with Holy Marsh and Yafor. However, our largest neighbour remains Atrea, a state most keen in some circles on reassembling her lost empire—an empire that once included Oceanian Atrea. Beyond our neighbours, we know that several of the other major regional alliances distrust our power. Marching on Shesharlie, so to speak, could risk enflaming these sparks to an all-consuming fire."
"Excuse me, but are you all out of your bloody minds?" barked Stephen McKay, the Oceanian Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. "Have none of you considered the fact that our diminished defence posture in Nova is precisely the reason why that miserable excuse for a state of Shesharlie gets away with the cold-blooded murder of our soldiers? For Christ's sake, if we had a few million soldiers defending our land, a thousand ships in the strait, and a few thousand planes in the skies, do you really think anybody in Nova would dare mess with us? No, because like everyone else, stability is a good thing. We all like our lattes and luxury goods. War imperils not just the Crown but our Western way of life."
"Shesharlie," McKay continued, "is not a Western state. It is a failed state. It is a failed state breeding maggots. Maggots that are infecting Sarnia. And the last thing we need are those damned Marerians getting their hands on another few nukes and blowing them up off our coast. Never again." He turned to face Thomason. "I say we invade Shesharlie. We garrison their cities. Secure their military bases. Search and seize their ships. We make sure those bastards never make it to Sarnia again."
"Once again, Stephen, you seem to miss the point." The Secretary of State for Colonial Affairs, Sir Iain Bashir, now took his turn. "The problem is not so much Shesharlie as it is Sarnia—"
"I thought that was your brief, Iain."
"And I thought tact, yours, but regardless, a full-scale invasion of Shesharlie treats the symptom, not the disease. Our fundamental problem remains the stability in Sarnia. Our colony is now seeing the return of peace and prosperity with increased stability. Sharing intelligence and working with the Yaforites has shut down almost all of the cells operating in our colony and in the Marerian Free State. The problem is now outside our borders in the failed state of Thames River. I daresay that if we ought to invade any territory to establish law, order, and good governance, it is Thames River to which we should direct our attention."
"And ignore the bastards in Shesharlie?"
"Not at all. I think that limited and small-scale operations have the opportunity to shut off the flow of arms and ammunition without setting off an already tense region."
Robertson rapped his cane against the table once more and the discussion ceased. "Lord Bailey, if we wanted to secure the major ports in Shesharlie and the larger military facilities, how many troops are we looking at?"
Bailey pulled out his tablet and flicked through a few notes. "Depending on the exact plan, between thirty and one-hundred thousand. Certainly not a million," he added, glancing at McKay.
Robertson then looked at one of the Novikovians in the room that had heretofore remained silent. "Emil, what about the navy?"
Emil Kolar, a Liberal Democrat MP for Svidnik, served as the First Lord of the Admiralty, the civilian head of the Royal Navy. Unlike many countries, the naval forces of the United Kingdom remained outside the chain of command of the rest of the Oceanian Armed Forces. "Shesharlie is off our coast and so unlike an operation into either Atrea or Holy Marsh, the Army would need our transports to reach their objectives." Kolar glanced at one of the representatives of the RAF in the room, "excepting of course the contributions from airborne divisions and alike." Kolar returned his eyes to Robertson before continuing. "We can supply the sealift along with several divisions of Royal Marines if necessary. However, it may also benefit us if we restrict the sea lanes around Shesharlie and impose some sort of a blockade. After all, those nations who desire to travel the Strait can simply sail around the island nation. And as for those seeking to trade with Shesharlie, the lawlessness of that failed state already means trading partners are taking enormous risks. The difficulties incurred in our stopping and searching of vessels is merely marginal."
Alicia Cermak, one of the few women in the room besides Thomason, now took her turn. "We also ought to look at the potential contributions by Novikov, a near-regional player in Nova. Whatever decision you make, madam Prime Minister, the most immediate ramifications beyond, perhaps, our Atrean home country, will be felt in Novikov. Be them diplomatic, trade, or potentially military reactions. We might also leverage some of the contacts and relations forged by the government in Poldi'sk to help us deal with Shesharlie."
"Prime Minister," Bashir began again, "again, I understand that Shesharlie is important. Actors in that state, failed as it may be, certainly are directly contributing to difficulties faced in Sarnia. But, we cannot lose sight of the fact that the root of our problem is not in Nova, but in Sarnia. We ought to look again to creating a political solution in Sarnia that redresses the grievances of most Marerians while simultaneously isolating the radicals and hardliners." Bashir nodded towards the Novikovians in the room. "Look at our success in incorporating Novikov into our political and economic life. True, we still have the Gabriko Islands with which to contend, but most Novikovians dismiss the Kacernova factions as existing far beyond the mainstream. We need only to attempt to replicate our success in Novikov in Sarnia."
"By creating more colonies in Thames River?" McKay interjected. "You have already sanctioned the creation of Alcedonia and Malaciana to forestall the movement of the Marerians south out of Thames River. What now? Carve Thames River into more little fiefdoms in which the Colonial Office can pull the strings? If you really wanted to follow the Novikov example, you would invite Sarnian colonies to join the United Kingdom."
The room quickly went silent at McKay's suggestion. The idea was the elephant in the room in any conversation about Sarnia. At over one-hundred million people, Oceanian Sarnia was now larger than two of the home countries of the United Kingdom. Beyond that, it meant altering the already fragile balance between the various nationalities and ethnic groups that comprised not just the country, but Parliament.
"Well," McKay finally spoke, "we can let them in or we can invade Shesharlie and secure another failed state." He glanced over at Bashir. "Perhaps even give the Colonial Office another little colony with which they can play."
Without moving her head, Thomason looked over at Robertson. He simply nodded.
"We are running late, ladies and gentlemen, and the Prime Minister has an appointment with the Treasury officials and Chancellor Heartman." Heartman was also the head of the Liberal Democrats and an Anglo-Novikovian, instrumental in creating the peace between the former enemies.
"I thank you all for coming," Thomason said, "especially on your weekend. However, this is a threat not just to our colonists in Sarnia, nor our citizens in Atrea, but, alas, to all Oceanians throughout the Empire." She stood and with her the entire Cabinet Room. "I shall think about all you have said over the remainder of the weekend and we will discuss the solution on Monday. Good day."
Thomason picked up her papers and then quickly exited the room, leaving the cabinet members in the room to fret about her forthcoming decision.
