The Southern Crisis (Attn: GD)

[United Gordonopia]

SKS Better Than Nothing

It had been a short trip to the freighter continuing to defy the blockade, but it seemed as if it had been hours to the men in the Molior helicopter now attempting to line up with the ship's movements. Inside the helo, the men were preparing themselves for the dangerous fast-rope deployment onto the deck. With their loadouts, which in addition to their weapon and a variety of boarding equipment also included a gas mask and hood, the two squads of marines certainly felt weighed down. All of it was necessary, though, for the aggressive operation they were about to take part in, and with their training and experience, they would all hopefully survive at least the journey down to the ship.

After careful maneuvering, the Molior finally had, at least temporarily, a spot to drop the rope onto a clear spot near the stern. The large bag containing the long, heavy rope was pushed out, and as soon as it had hit the ground and settled, the marines began dropping. One by one, the boarders grabbed the rope with hands and feet, and began the fast descent down to the ship. Immediately on the deck, they began to take up a defensive posture, waiting until the rest of the men touched down. Hopefully, there would be no major delays preventing that from happening.

---

123rd Naval Air Superiority Squadron

Only God knew whether or not the squadron of Shadowhawks speeding towards the skies around the INS John Francis King and the SKS Better than Nothing would turn out to be necessary. However, the oncoming presence of Fjynndjall fighters necessitated at least some response, and the presence of sixteen Shadowhawks, even if the exact number would be difficult to determine by the enemy, supporting a flight of four Boucanier fighter-bombers would be a proverbial digging in maneuver to show that the Gordonopian Empire had no intention of backing off due to a single freighter's actions.

Unlike the their' multirole counterparts, the flight of Boucaniers, the Shadowhawks loadout reflected their sole purpose: air superiority. Armed with a small variety of air to air missiles, the hawks would be a formidable foe for whatever aircraft Skibereen had chosen to deploy. However, the first move was not there's to make. As they neared the hot zone, the pilots had to keep in mind that for now, they were only there as a safety net. One wrong move by Fynndjall forces, though, and the skies over the dueling ships would be just as violent as the sea.

[Morrdh]

Titra, Eastern Lamoni

It was just after dawn as Squadron Leader Bayden Wain strolled across the tarmac with his co-pilot and a cup of coffee towards his aircraft; a four-engine, piston-powered Douglas DC-4 transport plane. There were five other such aircraft that made up the rest of the squadron and were lined up along the apron outside the cargo terminal, each one was swarming with ground crew as trucks and forklifts waited nearby. Wain's squadron was but one of ten squadron of the Morridane Air Transport Auxiliary that had been brought in and deployed at airfields across Lamoni. Instead of risking the Gordonopian blockade a number of vessels were unloading in Lamonian ports and then having their cargo shipped over the border to Skibereen, the MATA's involvement was to help airlift a chunk of that freight on the Lamonian's behalf. It was a simple cross border shuttle run and the DC-4 cargo capacity was close to that of a couple of trucks, which no doubt made it a very valuable aircraft for the operation.

Though before the aircraft was even loaded, let alone taking off, a thumbs-up from the ground crew was needed and pre-flight checks had to be completed. Wain rather his aircraft was air worthy before he allowed it to be loaded up, least it meant if any problems arose during the ground checks then they didn't have to waste time and unload everything. As the plane's captain it was his job to double check the ground crew's inspection, this even involved physically climbing out onto the wings and dipping a stick into the oil tanks to check the oil levels. Though thankfully the MATA conformed to the same high standard of maintenance as the Royal Morridane Air Force, so nine times out of ten it usually meant that the aircraft was fit to fly. But there was no harm in checking.

~

Half an hour later Wain's DC-4 was speeding down the runway with all four engines roaring as it got airborne and turned towards Skibereen...

[Skibereen]

Better than Nothing

Captain Moore finished his small meal and he and the young man sat silently listening to sound of the helicopter, as it became steady both men knew that somewhere on the ship men with ill intent were likely already moving to the bridge, and to secure the decks below.

Captain Moore chambered a round in his Barker and went to the ships intercom for one last time

"Attention all hands, I want you to know I am proud to have served with all for all these years. You have done your duties in as professional and exemplary a fashion as any men anywhere ever could have. You are all great men, and your families should be proud. I know none of you need an explanation as to why this stand needed to be made, not for me, and not for you.

There are times when each individual has to surrender himself to the history books, and it seems this is our time. Right now there are men aboard who make you be like them, who would enforce the rules of their lives upon you. At the behest of a king.

We dont kneel, and we dont beg, but if they are to have the ship then boys of mine...You make them pay a price worthy of years of us all.

Where we stand now, others will follow. You are not alone, and what you do today will not be in vain.

Remember Manathuraa."

As he concluded he emptied his first magazine into the various control panels on the bridge, if the ship was to be taken then they could tow it.

"Remember boy, lay on the floor and cover your head."

What was to happen aboard the Better than Nothing was itself a forgone conclusion for all those left aboard the moment they did not board the Rocket Ship.

The sparse men hidden in nooks and crannies below deck spread one after another so each could make his own stand in the tight quarters, by knife, or axe, or barehands. Silently they waited to meet their fate.

A lone worker wandering the below with a torch sealing hatch after as he went, eager to see if men were brave enough to look him in the eye and fire at him with the oxygen and acetlyne tanks he carried along...anticipating what would happen when he snapped the regulator of the top and turned the things into rockets of his own.

Donovan the Captains trusted Second stood deep in the belly of ship, with the end of the captains speech he switched off the internal lighting and engaged the fire alarms, strobing whie flashes split the darkness, and emergency floor lights glowed an eerie green ankle high.

He then switched on the the internal fire suppression system...a forgone conclusion.

Quietly, and without odor or color the below decks began to flood with carbon dioxide.

A man waking and taking it easy might notice immediately something was wrong, but in hot suits and gas masks already making one uncomfortable. with sirens bellowing and lights flashing the head would course ring, and sweat, and the heart rate would increase.

Until in a few short minutes asphyxiation would over come them, yes the boarders would find no chemical filters would compensate for a lack of oxygen. With the hatches mostly sealed and the ventilation system shut off the guts of the ship were a true death trap, the crew in full chemical fire suppression gear didnt have gas masks, they wore regulators.

Save one that is, a dilligent worker, sealing hatches, it only took 3 minutes for him to meet his fate, the exertion of carrying his load burned the oxygen from his blood quickly, his mask removed so he could better see to do his job. A headache, then tunnel vision, then sleep, a dreamless sleep form which one does not awaken.

All that need be was for one or two men to engage the intruders, to slow them down, distract from their bodies screaming for air...it wouldnt even be clear what killed them, indeed any support that come to find them would likely find the same fate.

An ingenious trap from a wily sailor, a final act of defiance. He would of course not see the fruits of his work, and indeed after the intitial fray any men below decks who did survive would only last as long as their regulators...so within the hour Better Than Nothing would be naked, defenders cold and motionless in their final rest.

The young man on the bridge who would watch as the captain finally greeted his enemy with a hail of bullets and curses was content to stay on the floor and cover his head, that is to say until the spatter of blood found his face.

The young man had no weapon, and while Yrysh-Fynndjall are know for their love of physical combat, like any place not all young men grow up in the rough and tumble fashion, he physical attack the boarders was weak, and frail as his appearance, he would do no one any harm.

When the story is retold of course, he will have fought like a hungry wolf, in some versions the boarders would shoot him in both his legs and would drag two of them ground with disarming them and biting the nose off one...such is the nature of story telling.

Better Than Nothing was finished.

______________________________________________________________________________

The one way communications between the White Backs and the shore informed the aircraft that a helicopter was on station over the freighter, and the fighters were given permission to shoot it down, as well they were ordered to destroy the jamming signal by whatever means required.

As they approached the target, the number 3 aircraft began a wide spiraling decent from 22,000m, near its maximum altitude.
Aircraft 2 9000m off the deck, immediately turned on its radars, now with everyone in visual range, the massive Whiteback 23m wingspan could be seen. The vaunted aircraft supported a radar far more powerful than a common sized fighter and that was the three birds intention, in these tight quarters the Whitebacks immense AESA radar would burn through just about any stealth feature, it increased speed to do a pass over and ignore the ship below, however the weapons officer immediatley began jamming the active targeting radars of the ship.

Aircraft 1 the dark horse a mere 500m off the water hidden in the clutter of the waves, stayed silent and pitched up slightly, decreased speed to 250knots and fired a single Questerian Scimitar AshM, the missile dropped as it went 30m above the water and since the aircraft were allowed to approach to such a close range there would be little warning as the missile would move immediately into terminal attack.

The three Whitebacks were out numbered, and it was a testimony to the men who flew them that without hesitation they relied on their learned tactics to engage a numerically superior force.

The enemy pilots would be shocked by the agility of the large aircraft indeed one key factor the pilots were relying on was the fact that Lyran equipment was so common that their adversary was far more skilled and drilled at engaging a similar opponents. The Whitebacks could out climb and out turn the Lyran aircraft, which counted for nothing at extended ranges but they had been allowed to approach into dog fight, and had approached in a proper formation to compliment their aircraft.

It was unlikely they would all survive, if any, but they would take some with them and give a reason for their enemies to reconsider just how easily it would be roll over the Fynndjalls in their own front yard.

Forgone conclusion.

[United Gordonopia]

SKS Better than Nothing

"JFK, this is away leader. Phase one complete. Over."

"Roger that away leader. Proceed with operation."

Immediately, Junior Lieutenant Walter Tyson assembled his team of marines on the deck of the Fynndjall freighter that had caused the Gordonopian Empire so much trouble. Twenty-four marines had managed to rope down to the deck of the ship, with only a minor ankle roll holding them back. With the forces ion the ship, the plan to board and take control of the ship could continue.

"First squad, with Johnson's ankle injured we'll have to switch you to rear duty. Hold the LZ, and be prepared to act as reserves. Second squad, you're with me."

Just as Tyson ordered, First squad took up position around the landing area, using the cargo on the deck as cover. Meanwhile, Tyson's squad performed one final check on their gas masks, before heading into the smoke.

"Watchbird, this is away leader. Ready for phase two."

"Roger that, away leader. Prepared to provide cov- hold on, what's"

The pilot of the helicopter above never got to finish his sentence. As he was receiving the go-ahead from the boarding team to provide overhead eyes as the team advanced through the smoky deck, he was caught completely off guard as a missile came virtually out of nowhere. With only a split second, the pilot attempted to react, but it was too little too late. The missile slammed into the tail of the Molior, causing the aircraft to go spinning down into the ocean below, taking its crewmen and the two Navy seamen on board with it.

"Jesus Christ..." Lieutenant Tyson muttered to himself as he came to the realization that his squad was now up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Frantically, he radioed back to the JFK, "JFK, this is away leader. Emergency change of plans... we've got to pull back."

A few moments of silence were finally broken by a response from the ship: "Roger that, away leader. Hold your position until the situation overhead is resolved."

---

123rd Naval Air Superiority Squadron

"Command, command, this is 123-Alpha. Enemy aircraft have opened fire. Preparing to engage. Do you copy?"

A reply came quickly through to the 123rd Squadron's leader, which was heard by the rest of the squadron. "Copy that 123-Alpha. Permission to engage."

Immediately the 123rd Squadron maneuvered into a spread combat formation, confirming the locations of the hostile aircraft through their own sensor suites as well as the uplink provided by the nearby John Francis King. Within moments, they were ready to launch a decisive counter-attack on the Fynndjall aircraft that had so boldly opened engagement.

"123, this is 123-Alpha. Engage targets."

Immediately, the sixteen aircraft of the 123rd squadron each fired off one of their formidable Yanitarian-designed So-92 AAMs. Each of the missiles was to take a different approach pattern, with several approaching the targets close to the water before rising for their terminal attack. Of the three enemy aircraft that had been detected, each would be the target of five of the So-92's, with the middle aircraft receiving an extra. Depending on the aircraft and the skills of the Fynndjall pilots, the opening volley was in no way guaranteed to end the attack on the Gordonopian Navy. However, it would hopefully send a clear message: the Empire was not here to play games.

---

Gordonopian Embassy, Luton, The Matthew Islands

The small, historic building that served as the Embassy of the Empire of United Gordonopia to The Matthew Islands was not the place a diplomat would want to be assigned if they were interested in high-profile assignments, or even an assignment with much excitement at all. The Matthew Islands was an Empire that, although not hostile, had never been a close friend of Gordonopia. So it was that when a man from the Arbitrat of Diplomacy arrived at the door bearing a letter, hand written from the Emperor no less, the normally quiet Embassy became filled with an aura of intrigue.

Immediately after walking through the door and verifying his identity, the man demanded to see the Ambassador, one Lord Thomas Ashby. It took a short time to find the Ambassador, who was having tea with a small party of visiting Gordonopian merchantmen in the Embassy's back garden, but almost immediately, Ashby was coaxed into his office, where the new visitor was already waiting.

"Ambassador," the man said, nodding as he addressed Ashby.

"Yes, Mr..."

"Meeks. You can call me Meeks."

"Well, Mr. Meeks, it's quite a surprise to have you here. I wasn't informed that the Arbitrat had any incoming operatives for at least a week."

Without changing his expression, Meeks pulled a letter bearing the Royal Seal from his breast-pocket.

"There is a reason that is the case, Ambassador. As you full well know, our nation is engaged in a struggle that may very soon grow. The contents of this letter may be a vital part of ensuring our survival throughout that struggle. If they were to become known to anyone other than those most concerned, it would be a significant blow."

Confused, but trying not to show it, Ashby replied, "So then what am I to do with it?"

Without hesitating, Meeks responded, "You are to hand-deliver it, personally, to a Junior Minister Jason Wilks, of The Ministry of Foreign and Colonial Affairs. You are not to read the letter, and you are to tell him that he may bring a response back to this Embassy as soon as possible. I will be staying here myself, and will receive Mr. Wilks' reply."

"So you're asking me to be an errand boy to a senior official in the Foreign Ministry? You're asking me, the royally appointed ambassador to this nation, to do this without knowing at all what is going on?"

"That is exactly what I am asking you. You will be informed when deemed necessary. Good day, Ambassador."

As Meeks stood and walked out Ashby's door, he left the Ambassador sitting, puzzled, at his desk with the letter resting in front of him. Seeing no other choice, though, the Ambassador picked up his phone.

"Yes, this is Ambassador Ashby of United Gordonopia. I need to make an appointment with Junior Minister Wilks. Yes, it is urgent."

---

Dear Mr. Jason Wilks,

For far too long, our two empires have seen each other as nothing more than neighbors within this vast region we call home. Neither have we raised our arms in war, nor have we embraced each other in peace. In the growing storm that is preparing to engulf Southern Dienstad, this neutral relationship cannot stand. With this letter, I aim to extend a hand of friendship towards The Matthew Islands, so that our two great empires can flourish as allies.

In this day and age, our greatest threat comes not from other empires, but from the most powerful ideology to oppose the great ideal of the monarchy: Republicanism. Since the restoration of my own family to the throne, there have been those Republican extremists who have refused to give up. On their own, they managed to be a throne in the side of rebuilding of Gordonopia, but they have now found a supporter; one that poses a great threat to the stability of every monarch within Greater Dienstad and beyond.

The people of the Armed Republics of Skibereen are the great threat I speak of. Through their material support and funding, Republican radicals have managed to slaughter tens of thousands of innocent civilians throughout Gordonopia's North, ranging from schoolchildren to old men on a walk through a park. They believe that their actions will shake confidence in the monarchy; they believe that through the rule of the gun they can establish the rule of the people. Against this, the government of Skibereen has done nothing. Rather than maintain law and order, the Fynndjall leadership prefers its people to live in virtual anarchy, free to support whatever violent, extremist cause they choose. If this policy is not stopped, the violent revolutions supported by Skibereen may well spread further within Gordonopia, and perhaps even beyond to other states such as your own.

In order to prevent this disaster, my nation has undertaken a blockade of Skibereen, of which you may already be aware. However, the act of deploying such a large naval force such a great distance, where it may be opposed not only by the armada of Skibereen but also by the friendly Free Republic of Lamoni, is a dangerous one. In order to aid in the success of this blockade, I would like to take the first step in what I believe may become a very profitable partnership between United Gordonopia and The Matthew Islands. In exchange for a 12% discount on the purchase of raw materials through Imperial Mining for your nation's industrial interests, and the elimination of all existing export tariffs to The Matthew Islands, I would like to request the opening of your nations naval bases, particularly those on the islands Islington and Grench, to the Navy of the Empire of United Gordonopia. Should you desire, this agreement can be portrayed publicly as simply a trade agreement, with the naval bases opened to allow for easier protection for resource shipments.

I hope that you will consider this offer. I look forward to a long and prosperous friendship between our two great nations.

---

Best Regards,

William Raleigh VII
Emperor of the Empire of United Gordonopia

[Questers]

White was the froth that leapt from the ocean and threw itself against the hull of the carrier Venerable, the leader of the task force that in the past ten minutes had just adjusted its course following a listed instruction from the General Staff. With her and her sister carrier Ardent carried the desires of the Republican government to defend at all costs their friend and ally, Skibereen, against the Monarchic monster that now threatened her independence. The news had come fast to the Consulate, and from the Consulate had gone even quicker to the Committee of General Security. There, in the form of digital transmission, the order had gone to to Operations Group 771.

Millions of pounds had gone into the construction of thousands of tons worth of steel for the sole purpose of defending and extending the Republic, and shortly, it would be put to the test. The airmen and sailors of the Operations Group were all volunteers, those who had sworn an oath to uphold the Republic and the values for which she stood, for liberty, equality, and freedom. Whether they worked in the depths of the ocean in dark submarines with the flash of a klaxon against their hands or up in the sky, coasting under great white umbrellas of cumulus clouds, where one's eyes could see the rolling blue expanse of the seas broken up intermittently with the creations of time and of man, they were all the same: all men of flesh and bone.

They were all the same, trapped in submarines, or ships, or planes. All vulnerable to those same creations of time and of man, to the waves and the laws of gravity and to torpedoes and rockets. They, the personnel of the GSR Navy, all worked under the same circumstances, officer or rating. The Navy had a life of its own, its own extremities and its own nerve system that spread across the world, ready to react wherever, whenever -- in a manner that might spell death or destiny, but always duty. Always duty.

[Skibereen]

Whitebacks

The ready patrol flight of three Whiteback Vultures were crewed by men who were all aware of the flight time to the target, and of the time it would take other aircraft to arrive behind them. In essence they were aware that for a few precious minutes no one else existed but them, and all the forces Gordonopian Imperials had placed to directly stop them from what they were tasked to do.

White Back pilots were notoriously arrogant in both the Armada and Air Arm, unlike many of their counterparts they flew an indigenous aircraft, one designed for the needs of an Yrysh-Fynndjall fight, everyone else operated iported aircraft that was merely "good enough".

The debate had indeed demonstrated itself many times, with reams of data available on the flight performance of foreign wholesale weapons peddled by arms distributors to any nation with a big enough check book.

But no one, aside from the cadre of Yrysh-Fynndjall White back pilots were as keenly aware of what the Vuture could do, in short they knew themselves and their opponents equally well.

So while numerical advantage had rested in the hands of their opposition, they had left smug in their ability to execute their task.

Sales reports were no indicator of fightability.

The Lyran aircraft being advanced stealth fighters had been easy to guess at since it required the OTH radar set to detect them. Shadowhawks, with literally tens of thousands of flight hours in many dozens of nations, and indeed with Skibereen being affiliated with the marketing of the Lyran Arms merchandise the Aircraft held no secrets.

The pilots of the vultures had been relieved to reach so close to the target, it meant that the opposition had given up a key advantage of the Shadowhawk, fighting at range.


In a knife fight, the stealth would count for nothing.

Aircraft 2 with its radars on full immediately had illuminated the enemy aircraft, not possible from further away. That data was immediately dispersed to the other two aircraft who not not operating their radar.

At this close range the RedEye suite could detect and track the Shadowhawks as well as radar without needing to go beyond passive, especially with aircraft 2 having steered the systems on all three aircraft to exactly where to look.

Then there was the fact that at least some of the Shadowhawks had actually turned on their radars to engage the Vultures.

Aircraft 2 Redeye alarms began buzzing as the system detected a missile launch and began wailing as the track put the missiles on course for the aircraft. The DIRCM began immediately engaging the incoming threat, while flares bagan popping out the back of the aircraft. Even modern flares as a countermeasure could be found wanting when facing the most modern IR/EO seekers, as imaging data gave missile what was effectively sight.

Redeye DIRCM, robbed those missiles of that sight...or at least two of them.

With Aircraft 2 flying what the Fynndjalls pilots referred to as the "Meat" position, it was ill suited to countering multiple threats, and by virtue of geometry was the most exposed in an engagement against a typical formation to receive.

Captain Hallaanson "Grinds" felt as if he warning was ringing in his head for hours, his weapons officer continued to transmit data as the aircraft sensors would dish it out.

However, the duration of time it actually had been for "Grinds" to suffer the sound was no longer than "Eject eject eject" and the time it took his hand to reach the lever.

The first time he said "Eject" it was to let the weapons officer know it was time to take his hands off the console.
The second time it was to make sure the Weapons officer knew to take his hands off the console.
The third it was to let him know if he had not taken the eject position he would lose his hands to the console.

The change in sound when one ejects from an aircraft can not be fully understood by anyone who has never had to do it, there is a minute period of terrorfying chaos, then your stomach drops, the rush of icey air hits you, you look below and see your weapon racing off without you, your home, everything that makes you a war fighter.

Then poof, you begin to drift lazily down, in this case into the open ocean.

Aircraft 3
The column formation was used by the Vultures for its numerous benefits, first it was a decetive action that required not stealth but a radar operator to have a keen understanding of what he was actually seeing.
Next its a formation tailor made for the Vulture's flight characteristics.

Finally it makes effectively engaging all three aircraft from a given range almost impossible, the 3 dimensional nature of the air war reduced 2 dimensional thinking to being nearly useless.

Whiteback Three switched its radars on as Whiteback Two disappeared in a ball of fire.

Whiteback was descending down upon the enemy aircraft, given it was descending from above their operational ceiling.

This meant it was at the second most difficult angle for engagement, the enemy aircraft would lose speed coming in to engage them, while they would themselves would be able to gain it, and fire from what is the text book optimum angle.

Captain Djallova "Snickers" switched his radio on as his weapons officer Major Smyth "Coco" switched on the radars.

On an open Skibereen radio frequency he said in plain english three words "School is in"

Whiteback 3 was in optimum position to counter an IR/EO missile, the sub was with it, the missile would be at the edge of their envelope so re-acquiring the aircraft would be a non-issue, and the Red-Eye at this angle could be used against more of the missiles than Whiteback had the chance.

Snickers throttled up as the Red-Eye began popping flares, and actively engaging the seekerheads of the missiles. He nosed his aircraft down this created a situation where his speed increased and his angle of engagement for the Red-Eye DAS was optimum.

Coco "Multiple targets, prioritize"

Snickers "Bird seed, and fishing pole"

While the terminology was silly, the ideas were simple and clear, and needed to further explanation . Coco was to target the ship as a priority, and merely give the enemy aircraft something to pay attention to, in short this meant it could expect to be swimming shortly.

The Gordonopian pilots would get to see why the Lyran aircraft was not in service with Skibereen, internationally many tactical basics were known about many nations, Skibereen pilots were known as "knife fighters" in military pilot community, a respected if often considered old fashioned approach to modern air warfare.

Targeting the JFK from above Aircraft 3 like Whiteback Three fired one of its Scimitar Ashm.

The weapons officer illuminated nine of the attacking aircraft for target locks, but rather then engage immediately he began target hopping and fired only when a target failed to begin evading.

The large array of Whiteback was turned into a weapon, since the Shadowhawk was known to have a high performance capability with semi-active radar homing homing missile the Whitebacks radar was used to over power potential command lines with clutter...a moot point if no SARH missiles were fired however.

The overshoot of the initial initial engagement was unlikely to be a mistake the opposition would make twice.

Whiteback One

Captain Maaklan "Grouchy" screamed into his helmet "How the fuck did they even see us!" As the weapons officer began a similar tactic to engaging the attack as Whiteback Three had done. With the low altitude of Whiteback One any over shoot would splash rather than reacquire and the angle of attack allowed the Red-Eye optimum performance in this use as DIRCM. Flares again peppering the sky and sea behind the aircraft.

Major Djustyyn "Beard" replied "No clue"..."Did Grinds and Caffey fluff"

Grouchy "No clue, fight now, cry later"

Grouchy targeted the Gordonopian vessel for a follow up to his first Scimitar, while Major Renveld "Dirteater" worked frantically to achieve the precious the aims of the precious overshoot they needed to not be turned into fish food.

Dirteater "No shot, no shot, Jam three"

As Grouchy tried to fire his second scimitar the missile failed to release. As an additional alarm joined the cacophony.

He abandoned the JFK and pulled back hard on the stick, the Vulture responded immediately and began a hard climb, he throttled up to get the aircraft to its maximum climb speed.

Grouchy "Guardian Angel" he spat the words into his helmet in the parlance of Skibereen pilots.

Dirteater immediately began looking for the targets poised to engage Whiteback 3, ignoring the Aircraft which were undoubtably coming to finish what they had started, when they had fired on One.

This was of course part of the operational execution they had discussed on the approach, they assumed if they lived long enough to do it, it would serve a purpose.

With Whiteback Three firing a follow up missile to Whiteback One's initial attack on the JFK, and with Three diving into the middle of the enemy formation from altitude, One would have a chance to fire at least twice...of course a misfire was not part of the plan. Then One could bank up into Three's Dive. Three could move to engage the aircraft engaging One, and One move to engage the aircraft Three was scattering.

Of course, Whiteback two also had a role in this, but then there was no more Whiteback Two.


_______________________________________________________________________________

Federick O'Murchadha National Address

On televisions and radios across Skibereen normal programming, which was already covering the situation to some degree, was interuppted for an Address from the President and lead Councilmen from the Council of Nine.

"As almost every man and woman and child in Skibereen is aware a hostile state has been growing between our nation and the Illegal Imperialist installed government of what is right and justly the Gordonopian Republic. This hostility is the result in the opinion of a tyrannical monarchist of the fairly elected Skibereen government failing to police the actions of the Yrysh-Fynndjall people in a fashion deemed by this foreign Tyrant.

That the funding of resistance to his tyrannical regime is rooted largely in Skibereen, and as such we as your government should impose foreign laws upon you the free peoples of this land so to better suit the reign of a militarily Monarch, in opposition to the very wishes of the Gordonopian people.

I tell you this now, how the people of Skibereen choose to spend their money is not for the this government to dictate, and under no situation is it for a foreign power to dictate.

However being sympathetic to the plight and loss of life wiht regards to the situation in Gordonopia, and to the desperation such a situation creates, we had been willing to tolerate the blockade, tolerate so long as our citizens were willing to do so.

The moment that a single man, stood up and said no more. It was time to bring this to a conclusion. That has happened.

A few minutes ago, a small group of our aircraft entered into an engagement over the safety of the civilian vessel Better then Nothing, and hostile fire has been exchanged.

It is with a heavy heart I inform my fellow Yrysh-Fynndjalls that as of now, a state of open war exists between Skibereen and Gordonopia.

I will work to bring this to cessation as quickly as possible, and I will organize a diplomatic corps to engage the Gordonopian leadership. But I will not sell the rights our people for the peace of a foreign land."

[Lamoni]

Lamonian War Room, Lamonian Presidential Palace

Watching the National Address of President Federick O'Merchadha of Skibereen, President Stinson and the Lamonian cabinet were struck by how calm, and down to earth that the man seemed. Making the case that United Gordonopia had started the war because their tyrannical monarchy couldn't abide the freedoms afforded to people in free nations. That the blockade upon Skibereen was intended to intimidate Skibereen into turning into another island of tyranny, based on the judgement of men already tyrannical.

Indeed, how could the people of the Free Republic of Lamoni not be moved by such a fight against tyrannical forces? Many of the people who had come to Lamonian shores in the beginning left tyrannical hell-holes in order to find a better life for themselves, and their families. People still made their way to Lamoni for the same reason, so to simply look the other way when the forces of tyranny were pounding on the door of a free nation whom Lamoni had had long-standing trade relations with, that just could not be done. The recent events pulled on the hearts of all those in the room in such a way that they had never been pulled upon before, even by the plight of those who could not stand up for themselves.

The first one to speak after the end of O'Merchadha's speech was President Stinson. "Have all Lamonian forces brought up to wartime footing. Order our frigates heading toward the blockade to take all measures consistent with the protection of their commands, but that they are free to open fire on any Gordonopian ship which fires upon them first. Otherwise, they are not to molest the Gordonopians as yet. I'll need to make a trip to the Senate, and ask for a war declaration upon United Gordonopia. In the meantime, Foreign Minister Greene will draft a message to Skibereen's government, authorizing them to use Lamonian ports to ship their goods until the crisis is over, and informing them that we are on their side in the coming fight. If the Senate approves a declaration of war upon United Gordonopia, I will be wanting you to send a message informing them of the state of war. Get to your preparations, everyone." With that, the cabinet stood up from their seats, heading off to their various ministries, and whatever preparations for war that they could make.

Likely, the two busiest ministries would be Foreign and Defense, one transmitting messages to other nations, and the other marshaling the military forces of the Free Republic of Lamoni in a display which had not been properly seen in a long time. Ships would be preparing to sail upon the white frothy seas where a good deal of this war would likely be decided, airmen racing to their aircraft in anticipation of using them to do what they had been training for during their entire careers, and soldiers double and triple checking their equipment before moving to assembly points where they would be ready for further orders. Always intense, the training schedules of the Lamonian special forces would be made even more intense, making these elite troops ready to demolish whatever stood in their path.

Meanwhile, President Stinson had informed the leadership of the Lamonian Senate by telephone as to why he was making the journey to the senate chambers, allowing them the chance to suspend the debate on ordinary legislation in order to hear him state his case for war. Being driven to the Senate in a Regality-T armored Limousine, he was mentally reviewing what he would say to the senators as he made his case for sending Lamonian armed forces into harms way. The trip was not long, even with the mid-day lunch rush of traffic on the streets of the Lamonian capital city of Nephi. The Presidential limo and the National Police and SPS escorts which had come with it parking in specially reserved underground parking spaces which enabled the President to attend meetings of the Lamonian Senate and Chamber of Deputies as part of his official duties when such duties came up.

As President Stinson entered the Lamonian Senate chamber, he saw all 449 combined members of the Lamonian Senate and Chamber of Deputies. Already, the Sergeant at Arms was doing his duty, loudly announcing, "Madam Speaker, the President of the Free Republic of Lamoni!" Even though everyone in the chamber had been expecting this for about half an hour, numerous heads turned and watched President Andrew Stinson as he walked up to the lectern at the front of the chamber filled with various gifts from other nations, and dominated by a large Lamonian flag, and prepared to speak. The news media had received word of what was in the offing, and fully fifty television cameras and newspaper reporters were there to see history unfold.

"My fellow Lamonians. Only a few hours ago, our long-standing trading partners in Skibereen have declared war upon United Gordonopia after the blockading military forces of the latter nation-state attacked the Yrysh-Fynndjall merchant ship SKS Better than Nothing with the intent of boarding and seizing her. This action was carried out by military forces of the tyrannical military backed monarchical regime currently in place in the nation of United Gordonopia.

While normally this would only be a matter of concern to the Free Republic of Lamoni, I have come before you to ask you for a declaration of war upon the nation-state of United Gordonopia. The tyrannical government there sincerely believes that since they can simply jail or 'disappear' anyone that they disagree with at home, that the same principal applies in international affairs. They have basically come out and stated their demands that the government of Skibereen jail anyone funding the democratic resistance movements against their tyrannical monarchist government. As one of our major trading partners, such actions would damage the economy of Skibereen yes, but also the Lamonian economy as well. For too long have tyrannical governments both within and without the region of Greater Dienstad envied our economic success, which we won with our own hands, graciously accepting the help of our friends when it was required. For too long have we placed a carrot before them, instead of a stick.

The time has come to bring our big stick down from the dusty rack on the closet where it is kept, and to use it to defend our interests from those who abhor our the rights and freedoms of free men and women. Under my authority, the men and women who have chosen a life of sacrifice in order to defend the rights and freedoms which are our birthright are mobilizing, ready to deliver the message that free men and women are only free so long as they can stand up to those who would take their freedoms from them, and that tyranny will fall this day. The time has come to teach the tyrannical government of United Gordonopia that we will not go silently into the night, but that we will fight to defend our freedoms. I ask you to vote whichever way that your conscience dictates. Thank you."

Stepping down from the lectern, President Stinson received thunderous applause from the members of both chambers of the Lamonian Legislature. Taking the seat assigned to him whenever he attended sessions of the Lamonian Senate, President Stinson watched as the Speaker of the Senate took over, following the Senate's rules of order to initiate the war vote. It only took two minutes for everyone to vote, the result coming back in a very positive manner for President Stinson. A vote of 350 to 99 was more than enough to authorize a declaration of war upon United Gordonopia.

Returning to the lectern, President Stinson was elated to see that the people of Lamoni would stand with the free men and women of Skibereen in fighting the tyrannical menace that was United Gordonopia. "I would like to thank the members of the Lamonian Senate and Chamber of Deputies for taking a stand, and authorizing me to declare war upon United Gordonopia. Using this authorization, I hereby declare that a state of war exists between the Free Republic of Lamoni, and United Gordonopia. Activate LEPAS, and spread the word to the people of the war that is now upon us. I hereby also instruct the Foreign Ministry to contact Skibereen, offering them our military, economic, and political assistance to their cause; and to also contact our new enemies in United Gordonopia, advising them that we are now at war. I will not have it be said that those who defend liberty will break international law to do so."


In homes, offices, and other places all over the Free Republic of Lamoni

Those who had cell phones received notifications that they had new text messages, while on television, radio, and weather radio, the ten second alert signal of the LEPAS system notified the public that very important information was upon them. Those who had been paying attention to what their President had been saying to the legislature new what it was, but it was a large nation, and not everyone had paid attention to what had been going on with their government.

For those with televisions, radios, and weather radios, the LEPAS message was played on audio. Those with televisions also saw the message playing on their tv screens, while those with cell phones saw the information as a text message. The LEPAS system had been designed to quickly reach 98 percent of the Lamonian population within the borders of the Free Republic, and now it was doing the job which it had been tasked with.

"This is an emergency LEPAS message. The government of the Free Republic of Lamoni has hereby declared war upon United Gordonopia. All military and National Police reservists are to report to their assigned marshaling areas to wait for further instructions. All government ministries are hereby ordered to shift to their legally defined wartime roles. For members of the press, wartime press restrictions are now legally in effect. For further information, please stay tuned to your local media. Thank you, and may the Free Republic defeat our enemies."

The message ended, another then second alert tone sounded, officially signifying the end of the LEPAS message.

Messages to Skibereen and United Gordonopia

***

From: Foreign Ministry of the Free Republic of Lamoni

To: William Raleigh VII
Emperor of the Empire of United Gordonopia

As of 12:05 pm Lamonian time today, a state of war exists between the Free Republic of Lamoni, and your nation. We had warned you not to put your nation on a collision course with our nation, advice which you have chosen not to follow. Consider this our declaration of war upon your nation, as required by international law.

Signed,

Vardo Greene
Foreign Minister
Free Republic of Lamoni

***

From: Foreign Ministry of the Free Republic of Lamoni

To: President Federick O'Murchadha
Skibereen

As of 12:05 pm Lamonian time today, the government of the Free Republic of Lamoni has legally declared war upon United Gordonopia, whom you have also declared war on. We wish to request a full military alliance between our nations, in order to best defeat the tyrannical menace that is United Gordonopia. We would also like to arrange a meeting between government and military leaders of our nations, in order to best establish a joint political, economic, and military framework which will allow us to jointly defeat our newfound enemy.

Signed,

Vardo Greene
Foreign Minister
Free Republic of Lamoni

***

(OOC: If you want more information on LEPAS, you can see it here in my official factbook: http://frlamoni.wordpress.com/2012/08/09/lamonian-emergency-public-alert-system-lepas/ )

[United Gordonopia]

123rd Naval Air Superiority Squadron

In the skies over the GNS John Francis King, the air battle was heating up. The return fire from the Whitebacks had managed to score a hit on one of the Shadowhawks, forcing its pilot to eject, while another missile had managed to damage a second aircraft, forcing it to attempt to pull out. With the enemy forces now coming in a pincer, the surviving aircraft knew they had to deal with a dangerous situation.

Doing their best not to scatter in a wholly disorganized manner, the Shadowhawks attempted to group up into their flights, with each group of three to four pulling off into a different direction. Hopefully this would draw the attention of the Whitebacks, and give the Shadowhawks more room to maneuver. As they did so, several attempted to get off a shot. Although they couldn't get a perfect lock, it was possible that several missiles towards each incoming Whiteback could result in a lucky hit, or at least distract the enemy pilots.

In a much better position, though, was the flight of Boucaniers that had been waiting much further back from the Shadowhawks. The main purpose of the multiroles had been to provide cover against any ships that might find their way into the area, but they were still equipped to fight a limited air battle. Using readings provided by the engaged Shadowhawks as well as their own, the four Boucaniers each fired off that same number of Sabre medium-long range AAMs. As the use of all of the majority of their payload left them vulnerable, the Boucaniers elected to turn and fly back to their carrier. Hopefully their contribution would be worthwhile.

---

GNS John Francis King

The John Francis King barely had any time to react as the Scimitar penetrated its defenses and struck the frigate on the port side, opening a gaping gash in the hull. A hit like that from a missile designed to take down carriers spelled quick doom for the JFK. The fire supression systems would prevent the magazine from going, but the ship was taking on water too fast to survive.

The bridge was a frenzy. Communications officers attempted to alert the fleet that the ship was going down, while others organized the evacuation. In the midst of it, Captain Watts was calmly doing what he could to make sure nothing was neglected. He collected important documents, such as the ship's digital logs, and then proceeded to aid with the distress signal. Finally, when everything was complete, he was the last man to leave the deck, glancing back at it somberly as he put it behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, it was all over. The entirety of the crew, minus those that had been caught where the missile struck, had managed to evacuate: 160 in all. Now their fate was no longer in their hands. Perhaps they would be rescued by the Gordonopian fleet. Perhaps their foe would reach them first. For now, they could not yet know.

---

Imperial Palace, Willingham, United Gordonopia

No news could be more bleak. On the desk in front of Emperor William Raleigh VII was a pair of declarations of war, as well as a new report indicating that forces identified as Questerian had been spotted heading towards Skibereen. Although he could take petty comfort in the fact that the rebels in the North were slowly being strangled, Raleigh could not help but feel overwhelmed by that which was arrayed against him. The discomfort was evident on his face, and Admiral von Keittel couldn't help but comment.

"Sir... I can tell you don't quite know what to say."

With a grim smile, Raleigh replied: "I suppose you're right, Frederick. I recall that we had hoped that the entire affair wouldn't escalate so rapidly. Then there's the fact that Skibereen has found itself with powerful allies. And god-forbid the thought of a Havenic nation involving itself in this. Against all of that, there's nothing our fleet, at least what we've deployed, can really do."

As von Keittel nodded in agreement, a knock on the door preceded the entry of James Hammond, the Arbitrator of the Treasury. By his pained expression, it was obvious that what he had to say would only add to Raleigh's woes.

"What is it James?" the Emperor asked, hoping to force the notoriously long-winded former-professor to the point.

"Sir... I believe you were informed about the 'blockade' of Gholgoth attempted by a number of small nations. It seems that Gholgoth has responded... Quite frankly, it's an absolute disaster. Nearly every major corporation in Gholgoth has suspended operation, and trade to Gholgoth is essentially closed. This means we lose trade to the entire region, and Yohannes in particular. I don't believe I need to stress the severity of the situation."

The news hit the already dejected Emperor like a bullet. How could everything compound at precisely the wrong time? It was as if providence itself was working against him.

"James... are you telling me that perhaps the most militaristic region in the world is bowing down to the blockade of an irrelevant alliance of insignificant nations, while our own blockade is drawing fire from every side? There's something more at work here."

"Well," Hammond replied, "We can't ignore the possibility that this is some kind of calculated move. Appallingly risky, but if they feel they have nothing to lose..."

Raleigh took these words in, before deciding to speak up: "God damn the Goths. Of course there's something deeper, there has to be; you can never trust those northern devils. But regardless, this bodes ill for our nation. A global economic collapse while we are being pressed for war from all sides. I never thought it would come to this.

Frederick, all of this has to stop. I want you to begin withdrawing our blockade. Leave behind a rearguard if you have to, but get it out of there. I'll be drafting a response to the declarations of war myself. Hopefully we can find some sort of peace before too much blood is shed."

"So we're going to leave Skibereen unchecked?"

"Do we have any other choice? Perhaps some day we'll be able to show them what's for. But for now, there is no other option."

---

OOC: Had to cut and edit a few things as we discussed. The formal communique I mentioned will be added shortly. I just figured I'd get up this much so you could all start drafting responses.

[Independent Hitmen]

16.15 on the day of the Lamonian Announcement
High Valley Express Way, 26miles East of the Centre of J City

The High Valley Express way was one of the busiest main roads into the centre of the sprawling city. The road was relatively new and made use of electronic boards to control traffic across 6 lanes in either direction. Shaun Valentine used the road on his daily commute to his technology nightshift in the capital's financial district, driving his old silver Mercedes-Benz to the underground car park where his brother-in-law worked as a manager and let him park for free.

He took his normal route from his house to the local deli and picked up a warm sausage roll and a can of cola for lunch. His wife also worked the late shift at a local restaurant so he dropped her off and pulled his weaved his way through the traffic, undertaking a school bus as he drove onto the on ramp for the Express Way. This was the last on ramp heading towards the city and the time of day meant that there was normally little traffic. But today it was almost empty as far as he could see, aside from the police car and motorbike that sat astride the bottom of the on ramp, blocking traffic with their lights flashing and two officers standing next to them.

Shaun pulled his Merc up behind a small lorry and depressed the park break. He turned the radio down and wound down his window but all he could hear was the rattling diesel engine of the delivery van idling. He waited for a couple of minutes, by which time several vehicles had stopped behind him, before shutting off the engine and getting out of his car. The late afternoon sun reflected off his freshly ironed white shirt so he put on his sunglasses and began walking towards the officers who stood chatting, one sitting on the bonnet of his car whilst the other stood nearby. Shaun hadn't taken more than three steps from his car when he heard the whine of sirens and looked right over the small concrete wall that dropped on the other side to the carriageway. He raised his eyebrow at the noise and didn't have to wait long to see what made it as six more police cars hurtled by at breakneck speed, in a line with one in each lane. It was then that he noticed another pair of police cars had stopped traffic crossing the bridge that connected the two sides of the highway. What on earth was going on he wondered.

It took only ten seconds for his answer to come. Four police motorcycles from the JCPD led the convoy under the bridge, lights flashing and sirens wailing as the officers pushed their machines to near 90mph. Behind them came four large black SUV's with tinted windows and lights flashing under their grills. Immediately behind them came a limousine with two flag pennants fluttering at the front, then another two SUV's and then two more limousines complete with pennants and a further four more of the SUV's behind them. Another pair of motorcyclists brought up the rear.

Shaun stood and stared at them as they disappeared off into the distance as another six police cars in a similar formation raced past. As the sound of sirens faded one of the police officers shouted at him and pointed to his car, Shaun realised that now the convoy had passed they were reopening the road so he jogged the few steps back to his car and climbed in. As the engine fired up and he waited for the truck in front to move off Shaun wondered who had been in the limousines, probably one of the three Vice Presidents he expected. He didn't think the President would travel by car the comedy shows said he went everywhere on his own flying eagle that he had bred with his billions. Shaun was smart enough to know that was just a parody of the eight military Knighthawk helicopters that it was rumoured followed the President everywhere. No, the President wouldnt travel in such a small column of cars. He needed protection from all of the foreign enemies that craved the Hitmano lands.

Shaun was so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to look in his door mirror as he pulled out to overtake the slow moving delivery van. The fast moving sports car ploughed straight into the back right of his car, instantly killing the driver and turning the rear of Shaun's Mercedes into a compressed ruin and shunting him across the other four lanes of carriageway sideways and into the central reservation head on. The impact caused the airbags to deploy, breaking Shaun's nose and pushing his head back so that he looked directly upwards through cracked glass of the sunroof. As he lost consciousness from the pain coming from his shattered right arm the IT service desk manager saw a pair of helicopters pass straight over his car some thousand feet above.



High above in the first Knighthawk helicopter rode President James W Anderson with his Chief of Staff, the Secretary of State for Greater Dienstad and the Chairman of the Armed Forces Staff. All four were men and three of them wore expensive tailor-made suits whilst the fourth wore his Air Force dress uniform. They were returning from Neito Air Force base outside the capital where the President had toured a squadron of the latest Tellus Interceptors and had a go at flying one in a defensive mission over the captial, using the bases simulator and with the Chairman as his wingman. However if he did his job correctly then the men of the 117th Interceptor Squadron would never have to dogfight over the capital and they could stick to their simulator and flying alongside the Presidential aircraft whenever it landed at the base.

Doing his job correctly had never seemed hard to the President, he had sent his countrymen to war on many occasions to defend their way of life, oppressed peoples across the globe and even to prop up allies. But it was harder running a country that wasn't at war. The economy always seemed to be teetering on the brink, growth was down, unemployment up, with GDP and inflation relatively stable. It had been nearly two years since his people had known war, not a long time by normal standards, but this was an age of international strife. The War of the Golden Succession still lived in the minds of many, the wounds of the Gordonopian Succession still raw in the injured veterans of that conflict.

Peaceful expansion had happened to alleviate the affects of an alarmingly high birthrate. The islands of Maldorian Major and Minor were now securely part of the Independent Hitmen and to celebrate the country had been renamed from the United States to the United Isles. Maldoria was populated exclusively by Hitmano citizens, over three billion had moved from the main island to find riches, space and a comfortable life for themselves and their families in the resource rich lands, creating much needed space in the major population centres of J City, Gillen and PortHaven.

Militarily the Hitmen still had commitments across the region, fifty thousand Marines in the small naval base at Freeport, eighty thousand peacekeepers in Morrdh, half a million men across United Gordonopia and nearly a million in Stevid. It was the half a million that currently concerned the President.

Since the end of the Civil War the Monarchy of United Gordonopia had expanded its reach across the south of the region with the tacit approval of the United Isles. WIth an increase in Gordonopian influence there was an increase in IH influence and so the IH 9th Fleet was now based in New Kjeldor in a base lease agreement with the Gordonopians. From there it fulfilled a joint role of providing an IH presence in the southern seas of the region and a base from which naval forces could control the vital oil lanes from the Ottoman Khalif that entered regional waters in the southeast before sailing between Lamoni and the Matthew Islands before passing through the straights between Intelligent Neighbours and Holy Panooly and onwards to the Home Islands. The cheap oil was vital to the IH economy and as such was zealously protected by the ships of the IHN. Trouble brewing in the south threatened the integrity of those lines; commercial entities were exceptionally unwilling to send several hundred thousand tonne super tankers through swarms of missiles. It was this and the danger to the IH bases in Gordonopia that dominated much of the conversation on the helicopter.

"Mr President, the Lamonian announcement puts us in a tricky spot. Bilateral trade with the Free Republic earns over 8 trillion a year for our businesses and I don't need to mention the military technology that we share or the Lyran arms access and influence they have."

"Yes General I am well aware of the implications stemming from the Lamonian involvement in this mess and rest assured I have no intention of getting caught up in it. Secretary what are the Gordonopians saying?"

The helicopter had started to descend towards the roof helipad of the New White House as the President had been finished speaking. The Secretary for Greater Dienstad looked out of the small bulletproof window before turning back to the other three men.

"Mr President the Gordonopian's are sticking with the line that they must defend themselves and that their domestic terrorists are being funded and supplied from Skibereen. If we were in the same situation I do not think our actions would be dissimilar."

"Perhaps Liam, perhaps. But I am in no mood for chasing around the world looking for terrorist funding. Put that carrier we have down there closer in to monitor the situation General. Then Liam get the ambassadors in Lamoni, Skibereen and Gordonopia to start making noise about scaling this back down to a manageable level. There is nothing to be gained here from this pointless exchange of words, let's try and nip it in the bud before the missiles start flying. Don't start talking about conferences yet but I want this bloody well diffused. And make it soon before some trigger happy sailor starts another regional war."

The President had stood and was striding towards the door of the aircraft as he uttered the last words, a set look on his face as he turned and pointed a finger at the Secretary of State.

"Get them talking behind closed doors about how we stop this. We have bigger problems than getting involved in this at the moment."


A day later,
IHS Detrimental, Periocles II Class Attack Carrier
1,500km North East of the Matthew Islands, 2,000km West of Skibereen

The Detrimental was not the newest of the IHN's carrier fleet and nor was it the largest but it was still a formidable fighting machine. Boasting the ability to launch over 200 aircraft the floating airbase was capable of fighting a war almost by itself, as its sister ship Snipe had proven during the opening of the Talaax conflict some years earlier.

With the lack of conflict in the region the carrier had been sent to join the 9th Fleet based from Gordonopia in order to keep its seaworthiness and provide its crew with training in the unpredictable southern seas. Part of that involved providing security in the oil lanes that fed the homeland from the Khalif so theDetrimental and her escorts were steaming eastwards. Half a dozen fighters and a single AWACs were in the air providing air cover for half a dozen tankers, flagged from half a dozen nations, as they made full power northwest for the straights between Sumer and Bendira before passing between Intelligent Neighbours and Adaptes Astrates and then to the Hitmano mainland.

In the CIC of the Detrimental the Captain was reviewing the large tactical display plot of the surrounding area. There were the blue dots for the carrier and her escorts, small blue aircraft denoting the aircraft aloft and then six white blips that were the oil tankers. For this part of her deployment Detrimental was accompanied by an enlarged surface escort to allow her to detach small groups to assist tankers at her discretion. Currently all the escorts were close aboard the carrier, the furthest no more than 5 miles out, as the situation in area was considered to be deteriorating.

Also flashing on the tactical display were three yellow dots that depicted Gordonopian vessels heading east at top speed. A FLASH message had been received by the fleet indicating that Lamoni and United Gordonopia were now at war and that Skibereen had taken a firmer stance. Essentially it was about to kick off and Detrimental had to put herself on the oil lanes to ensure that the tanker supplies were not disrupted. The Hitmano economy would not take too many missed shipments to begin feeling the strain of its reliance on Khalif oil.