The Season Turns (Telegram for Entry please)

[New Edom]

Betharan Palace, Fineberg, New Edom

Mrs. Dahlia Kiron, widow of the late General Jedediah Kiron, Chief of Staff of the Air Force, liked to help her young lover, the King-Consort, get ready for his day when they dallied. He would discreetly leave before it was time for the Palace to rouse itself--a number of people knew who was whose lover, but you tried to be polite about it.

They had had a late supper together, usually something light like a little grilled fish, rice, vegetables or salad, a crisp light white wine, and then she would often start sensuallly teasing him. In this case she had removed her upper clothing and his, then feasted on him. That which made him male, that which provided his future children, she feasted upon, dousing with wine, honey, other things that enhanced the deliciousness of it. It was her affectation to tell him how much she enjoyed this, bared from the waist up as she devoted herself bending over or kneeling, now hands, then her lips and her tongue.

'Oh it's delicious," she would tell him in a low soft tone. "Oh my darling, so wonderful, I could do this forever." She thought it was beautiful, she liked to say so.

Then she would often remove the rest of her clothing bit by bit. As naked as a servant, bending, she would continue her pleasuring; she liked to have her soft smooth still firm though gently sagging mammaries cupped and held oh so tenderly.

Lying on her back, all that she had sweetly revealed as she toyed with the magnificence of maleness which she enjoyed feasting upon with her soft pampered soles and toes, she would talk to him. There was no hurry in all this. There were often pauses for tenderness, for conversation, for confessiones of the days sorrows and joys, and she liked especially a sweet spending that came almost as an accident as they finally coupled fully.

And later, they would whisper together or talk by candlelight in whichever bedroom or sitting room they had chosen. if he wanted more, she would accept, but she was as glad, indeed enjoyed just as much the casual strolling around the room, playing chess in only a shawl or sipping wine and laughing at a movie or raptly listening to music with him.

Throughout this, she felt at this time, lately, that there was a talisman like sense to her accepting him as a lover. As though it enabled her to honestly hope that her son had similar experiences--that he enjoyed his life as a man, that whatever awful risks he took, that at least he would have known some joy. But he was such a serious boy, worried about life and the universe, his friendship seemed more important than women to him. She wondered if he had penetrated anyone at all...

That morning, as she washed, and later, giggling and gossipng, washed him, she heard a buzz and went to her sitting room, dripping and holding a towel around her, and checked her phone. "Oh my God..." she murmured. "Michael, Michael, you must hurry, the Heir is already up! She is hearing reports already...my God, it's only 6! Be there and be casual about it my love. Don't lie if she asks though--make sure you say that one of your mother's ladies informed you of her rising and you wanted to be there..." she said, turning the noszzle of the shower to rinse him. Ignoring her own wet hair and body, she helped him dry and began to help him as though she were his servant. Like he was her own boy.

"Now what's happening?" asked Crown Princess Jocasta, looking at the map on her table. Her restless ladies, yawning, rubbing eyes discreetly, stood or sat nearby on comfortable couches or chairs or stood near the window. Lavinia was curled up on the couch; Marie standing by the window watching some birds, Emilia Jabbok was doing some cross stitching.

Colonel Josephus leaned in and seemed embarrassed that his arm had brushed the Heir's silk and lace cupped breast; she decided not to compound it by moving to avoid embarrassing him too much. Poor man, he could be so clumsy, such a soldier. He pointed at a place on the map. "The rebel fighter craft have apparently swung around and out to sea and then doubled back to ambush our carrier task force and allies. They have badly damaged the Guisarme--she might be thinking. I mean sinking. Yes. Sinking."

"Oh no!"

"Oh, I'm afraid so," he said sadly, straightening up as she did. "The Halberd has been rendered hors de combat by a damaged radio mast. So really, it's just the two destroyers and the cruiser defending the Boa and they are all under attack by naval fighters and cruise missiles from the base."

"Oh my gosh, what are we going to do?" cried Jocasta. "Without that naval attack, how will the Ghantish and Marines attack the Naval Base?"

"The Cacertian and Imperium fleets have come to the rescue according to my last report," said Josephus proudly. "I am sure they will sweep all opposition away. I'm afraid that's all for now."

"We should go to the MDF and watch on the satellite uplink screen," said Jocasta. "I bet different things have already happened."

"All we can do now is be patient, Highness," replied Colonel Josephus a little sadly.

"I suppose so," said Princess Jocasta, plunking down in her chair. "Oh my gosh...I can barely sit still...soon we will see the rebellion swept away!"

[Ghant]

Betharan Palace
Fineberg, New Edom

...God bless you, mother-in-law.

Ever since the Queen Dowager Rebecca Pahath-Moab pointed Michael in the direction of Dahilia Asher, widow of the late General Jedediah Kiron, things had been different for the King-Consort. He was less on the edge all the time, less frustrated and tense. He was a man and a man had needs. In Ghant, there was a saying: "lehenago edo geroago egarria beti irabazi" (sooner or later, the thirst always wins). And it just so happened that Dahila was an oasis of clear, clean, crisp water. The taste was one he thoroughly enjoyed.

Take the night before, for instance. Late dinner in a room prearranged by them, consisting of grilled fish, rice, vegetables and salad with white wine. But it was evident that it wasn't the food that he wanted to feast upon. She knew too...she could tell. Dahlia would tease him, and did so then. She knew what he wanted, and almost important, she knew what she wanted. Dahila took off some of her clothes, and then some of his...enough to feast upon him. In those moments he could just sit back, and relax, as she pleased him, even adding wine, honey and other things to it. Strange, yet welcome sensations that provided. He enjoyed the feeling of her hair in his hands, and in playing with her bosom.

'Oh it's delicious," she would him in a low soft tone. "Oh my darling, so wonderful, I could do this forever."

"You are delicious," he would say back. "I could do this forever..."

Then she would remove the rest of her clothing bit by bit. Down to bare flesh she would continue to please him, while he would do what could from where he was at...he knew what she liked, and didn't fail to deliver.

Then she would go to lying on her back in bed, toying with him using her toes and feet, talking to him. Conversation, confessions of the days sorrows and joys, her teaching him about how to survive at court, so on and so forth. There never really seemed like a hurry for the main event, but when the time came for it, he wasted little time and pursued it with great zeal.

He was vigorous...the energy of a younger man with the experience of an older woman. He was tender with her, and sensual, but also intense. By then she would undoubtedly know all of his tricks, as he used them all when he was with her. It wasn't enough that he took her, again and again. He wanted to do it well...be the best. To thoroughly infect her with his passion. He encouraged her to try new things, really get into it and unleash herself upon him.

Yet, other things were done as well, some more than on other nights, he reckoned. Whispering together and talking by candlelight in whichever bedroom or sitting room they had chosen. Casually strolling around the room, playing chess in a shawl and sipping wine, laughing at a movie and listening to music.

Then they would fall asleep, and morning would come. He would discreetly leave the room before it was time for the Palace to rouse itself. But not before other things were taken care of first. Like that morning in particular. Waking up early, sometimes they would couple again, going at it when they had both awakened. On this day, however, he headed to the bath right away, which would usually happen afterwards anyway. She would join him in the tub, washing him and he washing her, with her giggling and gossiping all the while.

There was a buzz coming from her sitting room just then, and she went to see about it, wrapping a towel around her while she was still wet, dripping with water. Once she got there, she said, "Oh my God..." with a murmur. "Michael, Michael, you must hurry, the Heir is already up! She is hearing reports already...my God, it's only 6! Be there and be casual about it my love. Don't lie if she asks though--make sure you say that one of your mother's ladies informed you of her rising and you wanted to be there..." she said, turning the nozzle of the shower to rinse him.

"...Damn, alright," he responded as he went about his business with haste. Dahila was most helpful in that regard. Ignoring her own wet hair and body, she helped him dry and began to help him as though she were his servant. Eventually though in short order he was cleaned and dressed, ready to go, and he went to where Jocasta would be.

He got there when most everyone else to be expected was already present, including Jocasta, Lavinia, Marie, Emilia and Colonel Josephus. Michael bowed slightly to Jocasta and courteously inclined his head. "Excuse me, your highness...one of your mother's ladies informed me of your rising and I wanted to be here." As much as he enjoyed Dahlia's company, he thoroughly enjoyed Jocasta's more. Just being near her and doing what he could for her, made him feel quite fulfilled. Although he wanted to be able to hold her and nurture her and let all the world know that he was hers and she was his. He pretended not to notice Josephus lean in and brush Jocasta's breast with his arm. Sometimes Michael wondered if Josephus knew about his feelings...if he was jealous.

Then Josephus pointed at a place on the map in the room. "The rebel fighter craft have apparently swung around and out to sea and then doubled back to ambush our carrier task force and allies. They have badly damaged the Guisarme--she might be thinking. I mean sinking. Yes. Sinking."

"Oh no!" Jocasta exclaimed.

"Oh, I'm afraid so," he said sadly, straightening up as she did. "The Halberd has been rendered hors de combat by a damaged radio mast. So really, it's just the two destroyers and the cruiser defending the Boa and they are all under attack by naval fighters and cruise missiles from the base."

"Oh my gosh, what are we going to do?" cried Jocasta. "Without that naval attack, how will the Ghantish and Marines attack the Naval Base?"

Michael did a very soft sigh. Fuck... Goddamnit. He needed to be positive though, confident and strong...for her.

"The Cacertian and Imperium fleets have come to the rescue according to my last report," said Josephus proudly. "I am sure they will sweep all opposition away. I'm afraid that's all for now."

"We should go to the MDF and watch on the satellite uplink screen," said Jocasta. "I bet different things have already happened."

"All we can do now is be patient, Highness," replied Colonel Josephus a little sadly.

"I suppose so," said Princess Jocasta, plunking down in her chair. "Oh my gosh...I can barely sit still...soon we will see the rebellion swept away!"

That was when Michael made his move. "Indeed, soon we shall. And there is more we can do than be patient. We can take pride in and feel satisfied with the valor and determination of our men in the field. We can be thankful for our allies who have fulfilled their allegiance by coming to our aid when the time was most necessary...such is the mark of a true friend." Michael reserved his thoughts on the Imperium, which he despised...his brother did fight against them after all.

He continued. "We can recognize the determination our forces have in delivering a resounding victory in the name of peace, prosperity, justice and the crown. Many a hero shall be made this day, and they shall claim victory on behalf of thee, your Highness. For they are strong because of the strength and confidence that you show in their abilities."

[New Edom]

Heshbon and Tyrannis

Soundtrack

The Ghants

The ETC militia in the villages did not give up their positions easily. Most of the ones who were left sprang on their enemies like hungry Griffons. Every village lane, every half ruined house was a battleground; from behind pillars and low walls rifles blazed at the oncoming Dakmaran troops; machinegunners rattled steady fire at them to the last moment and would die sputtering their last with grenade fragments tearing them apart. As Ghantish troops poured into the villages the milita down to their last rounds came screaming out with bayonets fixed on the ends of rifles to either meet a good death or fight at close quarters with bayonet, rifle butt and fighting knife.

Naked youths and men, painted with green-brown-grey camouflage rushed forward with their eyes blazing with the glory of heaven, some of them in an aroused state as they came on, the yearning and power of it giving them a blazing courage. They were dead men, but they would be received in the glory of Heaven, the golden crowns would be cast down, the Father Hen would receive his chicks. "For the Prophet!" "For the LORD!" "Chaaaaarge!" screamed their leaders as they rushed through the smoking ruins at their enemies. One huge ETC militiaman, carrying a PK at the hip, rushed forward as though he thought himself invincible, firing long chattering bursts from his machinegun, casings falling like brassy rain around him, big member bouncing looking long as the barrel of his weapon.

Meanwhile, the rest of Aldapa's combat troops were leapfrogging past them towards the main defenses. and an eerie near silence suddenly began as the artillery and naval gun attacks began to break off. Smoke hung in the air, a foul stench of burning oil, cordite, human waste and blood was like a thick soup for the nostrils as they advanced swiftly past the little battles taking place in the lanes, houses, fields around the villages, a blazing barn and a foul stench of feathers in the air as the fowl within it burned to a crisp.

The trenches had been hit hard, but they were built to withstand artillery fire. However they were fighting at short range as the Ghantish advanced on them; Brother Bardo and others were shouting, 'up, up, here they come!" to the shaken defenders. To their rear, all their above ground buildings had been pulverized by the intense bombardment and were burning or smoking rubble. The smoke was thick enough that along with the mist it made it hard to even see in the open stretch of field before they reached the defenses, but nevertheless popping, sparking and rattling rounds went off; recoiless rifles boomed from the defensive zigzag of trenches before the advancing Ghantish.

Two Incursor attack helicopters helped the assault however; with the barrage over they zoomed over and flashing flares to avoid a MANPADs attack they blazed away with chainguns and autocannon into the trenches. Then one suddenly seemed to lurch in the air and swiveled rapidly as sidewinder missile fired by a Theocratic Sea-Terrier fighter shot at it.

"Oh, Mother of God," muttered Sarah Wendt in horror as she realized that their own air cover had somehow slipped--there were Theocratic fighters, she received the belated warning as the enemy flight suddenly went howling over the battlefield and engaged the covering attack helicopters.

"We're going to go to ground, Colonel, we haven't got adequate cover," warned her pilot.

The signals. The signals coming from her command and control bird--they'd zero in on that. God! She was a sitting duck. Wendt continued however to give intelligence to the Ghantish forces on the ground. "Lord Aldapa, be advised, our air cover is engaged. We are calling in reinforcements but you have to keep those troops on the move or they're dead in the open ground! if you can just get them into the rebel trenches you're done! Keep going!"

Then suddenly the helicopter was lurching violently, sparks flew around the compartment; the tailgunner cried out in pain, and the world seemed to be whirling violently; she felt like she was going to be sick, the ground seemed to be rushing towards the helicopter, and she felt a hot jet of her urine streak down into her pants leg.

The command and control helicopter went down with a crash into the marsh southwest of the Ghantish position.

The 9th Marine Infantry

Lieutenant Kiron crawled in mucky water inches deep and through mud, destroying a colony of fiddler crabs and lashing his hands and face with marsh grass and reeds; he felt and then heard the after zip of rounds around him and the company CP. The M20 Hamsher growled nearby and thundered 25mm rounds at the enemy position before them.

"Adjust fire...fifty meters!" gasped Kiron into his handset as his RTO lay down nearby him holding it out. "Keep it moving forward!"

"Lieutenant, calm down," said the artillery battery commander coldly in his ear. "An officer is calm and thoughtful in times of stress."

You be calm and thoughtful, 25 klicks back, thought Kiron in frustration.

"Be advised, command and control bird is down," said another voice, the air liaison on another channel to the senior RTO. "Our air cover is under heavy attack."

"That's great. Switch us over to AWACs direct," said Shobal, dismissing Wendt's possible death or capture. No time to think about it. He grinned mirthlessly as mortar rounds hammered the lighter skinned rebel vehicles and blew up one of the gun trucks. There was little drama to this...just disciplined steady fire and accuracy wearing them down. He scanned the horizon with his binoculars. The rebels were thinning; he thought they might be falling back, but he requested confirmation from the UAV.

First Sergeant Noyeed growled, "That's how to do it," as a Hellfire took out another gun truck. "Pour it on, keep moving!" he ordered the platoon nearest him; the platoon commander was screaming like a baby on the ground with medics near him, and no wonder, a grenade had laid him open from balls to chest. Noyeed shuddered.

Private Ravin crouched behind a hummock of thick marsh grass and sighted one rebel running from vehicle to vehicle, an officer from the paint. He breathed out and fired a round and watched the man stumble as if he'd tripped. He grinned and kissed his rifle. "That's it, baby, let's rack up a few more..."

Colonel Horan, at the regimental CP, sat in his comand vehicle, in a treasure cave of blinking lights, computer screens, signals, and received a report from operations officer indicating that D Company seemed to be in the best position to exploit a gap and push through the rebel defenses.

"Allocate artillery and air support priority and reserve troops to D Company," grunted Horan.

"A Company is foundering sir, they've taken heavy casualties and halted. They're requesting arty support," said the operations officer.

"To the victor the spoils," replied Horan coldly. "Captain Reuel will just have to have my best wishes."

[New Edom]

The Glory of Rome

Betharan Palace

When the King-Consort arrived the ladies in waiting sitting got up and bowed low, smiling at him. Jocasta listened to his encouragement and put a hand on his much larger stronger one, and said, "Dearest Michael, you always know the right things to say! I feel better and you are right. I would like the chaplain to join us," she told Marie, "And I would like a psalm of thanksgiving sung in the chapel, tell him, but I'll consult with him what it should be. And can someone find out if Mama is up?"

"I'll find out," said Countess Jabbok.

Colonel Josephus closed his eyes and bowed his head and left the room, and bowed deeply to Michael as well. His smile seemed a trifle sad. "I'm glad you are here sir." he hesitated a moment. "She always does better for it." Then he left.

"What about the poor Romans?" Jocasta wondered. "Stuck in the mud...how inglorious!"

The Roman Advance

Heavy mist hung over the Spider River--really more of a large stream--which was surrounded by tall reeds and grasses, whose banks were wet-clay-slick and hard on anything but treads. The Sugar Rats had crossed it earlier and now drew the fire deliberately of an ambush set up by Captain Phinehas of the Northern Brigade's two ambush companies covering that approach. A few klicks down was a bridge which also had an ambush prepared but which had been sighted by a Roman forward observer unit.

The report from New Edomite Air Force and Special Forces indicated that there were two company strength ambushes at the main crossing area. From forward areas of the Roman advance the sound of small arms and heavy weapons fire was heard as the New Edomite special forces toyed with them, drawing their fire and giving away their positions. Captain Victor Radu (AKA Boogus of the Sugar Rats) had Melzo, the Wizard, call in their grid positions to the Roman artillery.

"The rest is up to our former oppressors," said Boogus idly, as they had relocated and the enemy rounds were pounding up the marsh now. He had a brief thought of the Cadet-Tribune, with whom he was in love. Sadly, he doubted an ugly country fellow like himself, of good but very poor family, could ever qualify to court such a woman. He hoped if he killed a lot of rebels she might at least smile at him. The others found this amusing--that the mighty Boogus was afraid to even say hello to a Roman staff officer he was attracted to.

"Boom boom boom" muttered Melzo. "Let the hammers of God pound the nails of their coffins."

"Amen," said Boogus, focusing on the task.

[Cacerta]

OOC: Soundtrack

1st Combined Task Force
18.5 Nautical Miles from Harbourtown, Within Optimal Firing Range
“The Arno and Isara have entered maximum range, Captain. Rear Admiral Trento reports that they are commencing firing on target.”

“Very well, XO.” Hanna replied as she moved from station to station in the Anelyn’s AIC. The Cacertian task force was now in the thick of the fighting and dozens of enemy fighters were converging on their position to shake them off. “Hard to starboard, let’s bring all of our guns to bear, Francesco.”

“Aye, Captain. Hard to starboard.”

Aboard the bridge of the big battleship, the Helmsman rotated the helm hard to the right and the Anelyn began her turn to reveal her second turret -- its 420mm guns pre-trained to the port side of the ship, ready to fire. The whole formation followed suit of their lead warship until their course straightened out to bear all forty-eight guns against Tyrannis. It was an incomparable amount of heavy firepower, shattering the air with their combined cannonade.

The Anelyn was preparing another full broadside when an urgent message. Relayed from the Audace class destroyer Paviolo, Commander Furlan warned Hanna of several Theocratic fighters that had managed to sneak passed radar by flying low. They were closing in fast and their speed was making it difficult for the destroyers to lock anti-air missiles.

A flight of NSF-13s had remained to protect the core group, but given the angle and position in which they were approaching, only a pair of them could attempt to intercept. They dropped in low from above and made pursuit, but it was likely they would not be able to shake them off before making their run. They fired off short bursts from their 30mm cannons in an attempt to scare them off, however, they were unable to score any hits and the enemy Sparrowhawks barreled forward.

The first bomb released penetrated the Anelyn’s forward bow high above the waterline, exploding and puncturing a large hole in her starboard side. Two crewman were killed in the blast with nearly half a dozen injured. It caused an inferno in her forward decks -- a thick stream of black smoke trailing into the sky as the warships sailed on. The second managed to puncture deeper into the ship, failing to explode.

Febe Righetti, one of the gun crewman responsible for loading charges onto the pulleys that took them to the forward guns, suddenly felt herself pushed aside and into one of the nearby powder charge racks. The wind knocked out of her, some of her crewmates rushed to help her up as she looked to see what had happened. The third bomb had managed to puncture through the armored citadel and into the Anelyn’s forward magazine. Febe held her breath for what felt like an eternity, one eye open and looking at the bomb waiting for an explosion that never happened.

“Holy crap,” she finally let out with a sigh, “The Wise Wolf must love us today…”

In reality, Febe had only been hit by a powder charge that had been pushed aside by the penetrating bomb. Had she been standing a few more meters to her right, she would have been a Febe paint. And had the bomb exploded, the Anelyn -- and all her crew -- would’ve been done for.

In the AIC, Hanna breathed her own sigh of relief. She had lost several crewmen in the run, but she was lucky to have not lost her ship and herself. With the immediate danger of an unexploded bomb in her ships’ magazine, Hanna transferred command of the battleship formation to Rear Admiral Trento as she ordered the Anelyn out of line. She quickly contacted a bomb disposal team aboard the amphibious assault ship Domenica Anteo and ordered them to arrive on the Anelyn post haste.

---

Amelina Doria Squadron Two, 1st Combined Task Force
On intercept course against enemy aircraft
As soon as the fighters detected an enemy launch, Squadron Two fired off their own response before immediately taking evasive maneuvers.

At the distance they were at, Squadron Leader Marco Baldoni would consider it lucky if they caused superficial damage to their opponents. Deeply, he hoped that they could get in gun range where he excelled -- it almost felt dishonorable to him to shoot a missile a someone he could not even see.

Above him, an enemy sidewinder had locked onto his aircraft to which he made evasive maneuvers to avoid it. As he jerked his plane to and fro, Marco fired off bursts of flares to get the missile off his scent and he continued to do so until his wingman confirmed that the weapon had prematurely detonated behind him.

Others were not so lucky. While no aircraft had been lost, two others had suffered significant damage to both their engines and rudders making them nearly unmaneuverable. Marco ordered them back to the carrier. They would be of no use in the fight to come.

[Arbites]

Air Battle

Angel 6 was doing his damndest to stay alive, sweat beading under his helmet, pushing himself and the aircraft to his limits. Eventually he pulled out of a bank and reversed direction. The edges of his vision went dark, the color in his indicator lights and HUD started to fade into a grey, and he started panting for breath. Once he pulled out of the bank, however, he saw his prey making a run for it. Now was his chance, he pulled onto the 5 o'clock of the other fighter and fired another R-73.

Then he heard a warning from the AWACS, and saw his wingman suddenly break off into a steep dive. "Angel and Bravo flights this is Foresight One, active radar missiles incoming, deploy chaff. Wrath, switch to full barrage. Foxtrot, reduce altitude to 100 feet, proceed on heading 45 degrees. Launch detected from 200 klicks, picked up three weak signals, fading in and out. Could be stealth fighters like the heretics, go radar silent." They were calm, which meant they hadn't been directly threatened yet.

On Foresight One's directions, the EW aircraft of Wrath Flight stopped trying to be cute. Previously they'd worked to jam the specific frequencies the AWACS had detected were in use by the rebels. With an unknown threat materializing, they switched to barrage jamming, broadcasting noise across all frequencies to try to throw off the missile locks and prevent the Shadowhawks from acquiring new targets. Though it would affect Imperial aircraft and Task Force Boa below as well as their enemy, the Imperial flights were engaged primarily at short range using IR guidance.

For Angel and Bravo, the early detection and jamming counted for something. One plane got lucky, he and his wingman were engaged with a rebel Sparrowhawk, trying to win a turning contest. Between his maneuvering and the jamming, he managed to break the radar lock entirely. Two others managed to break the radar lock after dropping chaff and disengaging. Of these, one was opened up to an attack; a Sparrowhawk managed to land several hits with its autocannon, smashing through his left wing and landing a hit on his fuselage which severed one of the redundant control systems. His attacker was driven off by other Imperial fighters so he could limp back to the Harbinger. One had a harder time breaking the missile lock, despite dropping chaff and pulling up hard it seemed to stick with him. Just when he anticipated the missile would hit, however, he jerked the control stick hard to one side. Everything went dark. In his dazed state he wondered if he'd been killed, but gradually the sounds of his fighter's engine came back to him, along with all the radio chatter. He'd managed to just barely dodge the missile. Immediately he started praying, giving thanks to the Emperor.

Two of the Shadowhawks' missiles hit home. One of them, Bravo 4, did everything the others did in response to his RWR screaming at him. Evasive maneuvering, chaff, all of it, but it wasn't enough. It still managed to hit more or less dead-on, with oily flames immediately erupting from the ruptured fuselage. Bravo 4 looking like it was swatted out of the sky, suddenly slowing and taking a steep dive towards the ocean. The other plane downed was Angel 7, apparently having broken off Mass in response to his RWR. At first it looked like Angel 7 would keep limping on, keeping level. Then there were flames from the plane's undercarriage. It started to spin, still trying to stay level, until finally it careened out of the sky with a trail of black smoke behind it.

Concealed from detection by the jamming, Foxtrot flight dove to low altitude, twelve aircraft dividing into 3 groups of four. Flying a bit over Mach 1 just off the surface of the ocean, they would start hunting for the Shadowhawks using their infrared search and track systems. The AWACS was providing their active radar from about 400 klicks away; if the Shadowhawks pressed their attacks and launched more missiles, they would have an idea as to their enemies' heading, and the MiGs would spring the trap.

[Hutanjia]

JABBOK

Attack Groups Jade and Diamond continued to make progress while Emerald floundered. Engineers were one glaring thing left off the deployment schedule of the Hutanjian expeditionary forces. Despite the outstanding service and ingenuity of the 23rd Regiment during battle in West Cardwith and Nesselberg, they were not invited along to New Edom. Never was this omission more apparent than when Attack Group Emerald started to hit the minefields. Luckily, they were able to call on the Edomite 6th Combat Engineer Regiment to come to their aid, but it might be some precious minutes for them to get there.

In particular, the team of IFVs and APCs under Lieutenant Yoduga and SFC Tazaba finally stopped the men from blasting away at nothing, getting fire discipline under control. They held positions as they awaited the Edomite engineers to arrive with their mine clearing equipment. The wounded and badly burned were loaded up in one of the rearward APCs to be taken back to where the medics had temporarily set up. They would surely move again before the day was through, before eventually setting up a MASH unit closer to Jabbok, if all went well with the offensive, that is.

The Shrikes of Pegasus Flight closed within visual of the rebel Sparrowhawks, as they dodged the first volley of missiles. It was that window of opportunity, and their preoccupation with Phoenix flight, that Pegasus took to fire off another round of missiles, this time at much closer range. Three Shrikes peeled off to follow the Sparrowhawks that were diving towards the deck, while the other three kept on those that turned to fight. In another minute, the KaF-37s of Dragon Flight, also from the 6th, would be on the scene to heavily turn the tide towards the HRAF and double team the Theocratic AF fighters.

Alerted to their pursuers, the Super Etendards of Phoenix Flight diverted from their run on the ground targets and scattered. One was hit from the ground fire of the Zilkas. Smoking, it turned back towards Monarchist lines.

It was up to the AH-90 gunships to hit the AA targets with Phoenix Flight bugging out, but as they came in low, the 20mm cannons of the AA batteries opened up. While three were hit, two of them were able to continue on from the glancing blows, rocketing at the offending AA guns. The third staggered, having it's rotor blades damaged, as it turned to head for safe lines, one of the MANPADs struck true. The HRAF AH-90 spiralled to the ground, breaking up and dumping the crew in back out to fall dozens of feet. The pilots were crushed as the bird impacted nose first into the Edomite terrain.

The Ranger teams were landed, in the chaos, short of their original drop zones, but with the large amount of scattered enemy AA still in action after the artillery and jamming/EW measures, it was considered safer than overflying them. They would close in from the North, rather than the West. They were dropped into empty fields and wherever the transport choppers could find, not knowing if the LZs were clear or not.

The artillery pieces of the 18th had been reset into new positions, planned out in advance. They opened up as they were fed new data on the surviving rebels. The exploding ammo carrier going off helped as a beacon, as well as Howler One, the RCC Baron, continuing to track signals below and update positions of the enemy. In every case, whatever available air or artillery could be, was vectored on to each new identified, responding enemy in order to shut it down fast.

Colonel Hudagku watched a feed from Howler One in the back of his command Saladin-Q, on the move along with all of Diamond Group as they swarmed forward, level with St. Joseph, but still East of Jabbok. Soon they would hook south in order to envelop the enemy held town. Scouting units stayed ahead, probing for defenses this far to the North. Most were Rangers of the 2nd HAR, along with some scouting squads from the 10th. Hudagku had little to do as his troops responded automatically to the threats, but he kept his eye out for the bigger picture. Where was the most resistance and were they trying to funnel the Hutanjians in one direction versus another? They hadn't expected a cake walk, but neither had they anticipated this much resistance to the air support so soon. It was troublesome, and he wished more than ever for a cigarette break while he scanned more details, but it would have to wait as the vehicles of his command group rumbled on.

[Ghant]

The Battle of Harbourtown

Ion hid behind smoldering cover, staying hidden as suppressing fire pinned him down. When the opportunity presented itself, he would return fire...sticking out from behind it and letting his rifle loose upon the enemies through the thick haze of burning smoke. It was a warzone now, more than he had ever seen. And I have seen a lot of shit.

In the distance to the back, the mortar teams were adjusting their mortars, aiming so their projectiles would go further and bombard the trenches. "Let's hit those trenches before our guys get there, eh?" Having coordinated the adjustments, the mortars were aimed and readied, and then when the "fire!" command came, they began to launch what remained of their mortars off and away, hoping to land them right on the proverbial nose of the trenches where the enemies lurked.

By now, from what Ion could gather, the flanking maneuver seemed to work, as the Dakmoorans that wrapped around the villages were now encircling them, attacking from the front and the back. It seemed like pouring into the villages from all sides might force the enemies to reveal themselves for that final fight as death loomed near. Nothing is more dangerous than a man who knows death has come for him, Ion mused to himself, preparing for a fight.

The enemies didn't just roll over and play dead...they had fire in their bellies from the looks of it. In village lanes and half ruined houses, from behind charred pillars and low walls, rifles unleashed upon the Dakmoorans, cutting them down where they could, with machineguns. The Dakmoorans poured in none the less, with suppressing fire meant to keep the enemy at bay, and raining grenades upon them, bounced in and around ending life in a mere moment.

The enemies began to emerge from their hiding places as their ammunition began to wane. All naked men, some boys even, in green, brown and grey camouflage sprouted forth, shouting words of encouragement to each other as they emerged. They began to rush through the smoking ruins at the Dakmoorans to do onto them battle. Ion even saw one of them carrying a PK, hipfiring it as he rushed forward. The Ghantar took whatever opportunity they had to shoot at him, and others, as they emerged.

Then the enemies decided to engage the Dakmoorans at their own game. Big mistake, Ion thought as they pounced out of cover with their bayonets to engage the Dakmoorans in close combat. The Ghantar were also running low on ammunition as well. Those that ran out, took to wielding bayonets, knives and daggers. "Nire pala etortzen duzue Jainkoa ezagutzea" (by my blade you shall come to know your God), the Dakmoorans would say. Ion also heard them say, "Ikus dezagun non zure jainkoa da orain" (let's see where your God is now). In any case, Ion was ready to reach for his own dagger should it come to a fight of that sort.

Then he saw them stream in...poking through the haze in droves, advancing using cover, keeping their heads down and with some suppressing fire. The Dakmoorans knew who they were...the leapfrog. Upon sight, the Dakmoorans began to do what they could to bide the others time to pass. It was quiet aside from the gunshots and the sounds men made when fighting or dying. The air stunk of burning oil, cordite, human waste, blood, charred bones and cooked meat. And now a series of yellow and red eyes looked out and about.

The Thular and the Odolargians were a battle hungry lot, even if they were a bit green. The former...most of what they did in Thule consisted of either feasting, fucking or fighting...they didn't consider the day complete until a man did all three. In Odolargia...well, people worshipped blood, after all. And there is plenty of it to go around today.

Ion shot at exposed enemies as they showed themselves for a final blaze of glory like a child uses his hammer at a game of whack-a-mole. However, he didn't want to run out of ammo and have to fight them with a blade. So as it happened, once he had an opportunity, he decided to advance with the others on to the trenches. When it came, he advanced, keeping his head low and getting in amongst them.

The trenches were separated from the villages by an open field, the Ghantish advancing by keeping up suppressing fire keeping low and moving quickly. The trenches appeared to be blasted by artillery fire. The buildings on the other side of the trenches had been obliterated by the airstrikes, burning and sending of infernal smoke, thick as it hung in the air, giving the field an eerie feeling...the haze of battle, as it were.

Yet, the green boys proved to be green when the enemies began to shoot out from the trenches, the sound of recoiless rifles ripping through the air and tearing apart unsuspecting Ghantar made many turn whiter than they already were and others piss themselves. Ion looked up as he saw two friendly attack helicopters attack the trenches from the air...that was until one of them got hit by something and began to swivel out of control. Well, that can't be good.

That was when back at the field HQ, Wendt radioed in. "Lord Aldapa, be advised, our air cover is engaged. We are calling in reinforcements but you have to keep those troops on the move or they're dead in the open ground! if you can just get them into the rebel trenches you're done! Keep going!"

"Shit," Aldapa said before responding to Wendt via radio. "Understood. We will get them in there." the Lord wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Signal the field commanders...we need to get them into the trenches before they get fucked, asap!" Then the radios began to transmit the orders to the appropriate personnel.

"Madarikatua lubaki horiek orain. Egonaldia duzu egindako bada hemen, heriotza jasaten izango duzu goitik. Orain, bizirik irauteko modu bakarra da lubaki lortu. Zulagailu Badakizu, mutilak. Orain, eraso, Inperioaren da" (Get in those damn trenches now. If you stay out here, you will suffer death from above. Now the only way to survive is to get in the trenches. You know the drill, boys. Now, attack, for the Empire).

The advancing Ghantar began to shout at one enough in words of warning and encouragement. "Heriotza goitik dator, hegazti harrapari baten antzera" (death comes from above, like a bird of prey). Some of them began to point at the helicopter whirling in the air, soon to crash. Then it was on, if only because a potential death by advancing on the trenches was better than a surefire death by lingering in the field.

So it was that the Ghantar advanced, closer and closer, despite the enemy fire. They began fire more intensely, and they began to throw grenades at the trench, using all those years of throwing rocks and things to try to get them to go where they wanted them to...which was where the flashing lights of gunfire were coming from. Grenade launchers boomed, machineguns mowed, and rifles rang out. Then their cry echoed, through the smoke as they advanced across the field even in the face of death.

"Jainkoak goihesgarri
Aretoan zain dago
Ezpata besoak altxatuta
Ireki zure ateen."

Gods be praised
The hall awaits
Sword arms raised
Open thy gates

Using their advancing tactics, the Ghantar tried to get as close as they could to the trenches, and when the opportunity presented itself, they jumped in. Should the combat prove to be close quartered, which it would undoubtedly, everything became more intense. Rifle and machinegun fire at close range, grenades at close range, trying to kill the other guy before he killed you first. Ion was still advancing through the field, and as he contemplated the situation at hand amidst the dead and dying Ghantar lying in the open field in pools of their own blood, guts and excrement, he thought, mind racing a hundred miles per hour even as his own life seemed to be like a mouse, in an open field as the wings of death waiting to swoop down and carry him away.

Into the maw of war we fell
Amidst screaming bomb and bursting shell
In the trenches, no glory; just shame
For the soulless monsters we became
Starring down our sights once more
To kill a boy with rifle's roar.

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown: Command and Control

Monarchists

From the point of view of Lieutenant-General Felicity Romain, the campaign to capture Harbourtown was on the cusp of initiative. The key to her plan was distracting the defensive forces around Harbourtown long enough to punch through with her main assault forces, the Cavalry Guards, 21st Lancers, 9th Marines, with the 18th Mounted Light Infantry held in reserve to support any one of these units. The support for these elements was also being held in reserve, namely heavy and long range artillery, Task Force Boa and strategic air units. The Cacertian fleet was also held in reserve for that purpose, and she was relieved that they had come through.

The allied units--the Ghantish, Roman and Hutanjian forces--were largely the bait to distract the enemy brigades surrounding Harbourtown. In discussing the strategy for the battle with General Vrinn, Chief of Staff of the Air Force and her advisers, it had been agreed that the main weakness of the Theocratic Air Force and Navy was that it had limited numbers. Other than that, they were very capable and had much of the same equipment as other tactical, recon and support elements of the Monarchists. It was believed that if they could keep up this distraction the Theocratic armed forces would be unable to get vital intelligence that would indicate an imminent attack on the key roads and access points to the city of Harbourtown itself. This was coupled with misinformation sent out that suggested that the attacks that had already begun were in fact the main attacks to drive the Theocratic rebels out of the province. The evacuations had also served to provide focus on those areas.

Sitting in her command vehicle receiving reports, looking over intelligence available on which units were moving where, she knew that now was the most tense moment: the 9th Marines had already begun attacking their targets on the approach to Tyrannis, and at any minute the 21st Lancers should be hitting their targets, with the Cavalry Guards moving up on the road behind them. She knew Harbourtown was not yet fully fortified against an attack like this--it was now that the key to the battle would take place. If the enemy at any point believed that the other attacks were feints, they would abandon positions they were defending. The two areas she worried about the most were Jabbok and Saint Joseph, especially the latter, as the Romans had apparently not even engaged them yet due to the local environment.

'The bastard won't budge," said Lieutenant-Colonel Havoth-Jair looking frustrated. He had been trying to urge the Base Commander at Padan to allocate more ground attack designated fighters to support the Romans.

"It doesn't matter, he's right about holding them in reserve for now," she said. "We must have those fighters as escorts for the bombers. No, let the Romans use their helicopters to help deal with the bridging area. We must not panic, Colonel."

The Hutanjians had requested engineers to deal with a minefield. Another stall. Romain gave the nod to that. A battalion of the 6th, the 3rd Battalion which had a de-mining vehicle company as well as an EOD company would be moved forward. It had been on standby with the other engineers of the regiment for this very purpose, but it would delay the Hutanjians' advance. However as long as the Eastern Brigade were focused on defending Jabbok, it was fine in her eyes.

It was time. Time to get the strategic artillery and air units lined up for their attacks on the key areas that needed to be taken down to make way for the main assault regiments moving into position.

The Theocratic Republic

if the Monarchist leaders felt they were on the cusp of gaining the initiative, the Theocratic Republic's military leaders were anxious to get it to begin with. General Martin Benajah, Chief of the Military Staff and Commander-in-Chief of all Theocratic forces in Bara, was worried about that as he received reports of them being harried on all sides. While on the sea and air they were holding off some of the attacks, the Cacertians had managed to begin an intense bombardment of Tyrannis in spite of missile and air attacks. Two of his brigades were under intense assault by a combination of air, mechanized and artillery units. Reorts of probes around the Northern Brigade's positions south of Saint Joseph had come in. It seemed to be a general attack.

And now they were facing another dilemma: they had just begun to stand down the forces that had gathered against the CPO, but that left in effect only policing units and training units in Harbourtown and immediately around it itself. He knew from headache inducing experience that giving orders and then contradictory orders was demoralizing to the troops, but he had little choice. The reserves would have to be taken not to their homes and workplaces but to barracks where they would be prepared in reserve for a possible attack on Harbourtown itself if the Monarchists broke through.

Admiral Button contacted him and advised him that there were reports that the Cacertian fleet was in range to be attacked by small boat patrols, and that this would commence. The original plan, to attack Task Force Boa with these was unnecessary; Task Force Boa had been all but neutralized by constant air and missile attacks they were forced to defend from instead of providing the screen they had wanted for the naval bombardmeent of the Cacertians. The Imperium's fleet was also out there, but for the time being they had only done air attacks, and the Theocratic forces could only do so much at a time. Drones were to begin tracking them; they were farther away and could be dealt with in time.

If they could just blunt and drive back that naval assault, it would probably weaken and enable them to counter attack against the forces attacking towards Tyrannis from the south.

General Benajah approved of Colonel Shoen's intention of drawing in the Roman attackers into ambushes and delays. It made the most sense, and he left him to it. Shoen requested air cover but there was little to be had, and so for the time being he was denied it and simply given the Lord's blessings.

Lieutenant-Colonel Isaac Dan was being heavily attacked at Jabbok; his intention of using combined air, anti-air and ground troop counter assault was approved as well. The use of minefields and ambush would hopefully be successful. This was the weakest of the positions, and it worried Benajah the most. It was this area that he decided to plan for improving in depth defense if they (inevitably, to him) had to retreat towards Harbourown. The reserves would help create a fall back position where they could establish a better killing ground for the advancing forces from Salcah.

Another thing he lacked was intelligence: who exactly the units opposing them were, what they were composed of. What he was getting was spotty. The ETC intelligence network had been badly damaged by constant attacks of Monarchist Rover Team special forces units, Council Police assassination campaigns (the traitors) and obfuscation. John Kohath's new Theocratic Ministry of Police was in its infancy and largely used the ETCs own network, and outside of Harbourtown and its satellite towns it was deeply damaged in Bara. He felt like he was in a genuine fog of war, and it worried him greatly.

For this reason, he tasked one of the units trained by the special forces from Blackhelm Confederacy to get him some 'tongues' as he liked to call it--some actual human intelligence of what was going on right now. They were to ignore the general strategic situation and focus entirely on who was who, what was what, and where they were going. The Navy's drones might be overtasked, but he at least had some more bodies to put into the field.

[Jedoria]

Sixington Airport,
Gloria Regis

The roar of engines grew louder and louder as the first air lifter descended closer and closer to the runway. The C-160 banked it's nose slightly upward so it's heavy wheels smacked against the solid asphalt of the runway. As all wheels hit the surface, the brakes were applied, and the massive behemoth of an aircraft came to a grinding halt after a few hundred yards. The C-160 then rolled forward on it's wheels to it's pre-selected disembarkment zone, where the massive doors opened up and a stream of Jedorian soldiers began pouring out. They all wore their BDU, FLCs, rucks, all in a camo scheme of black and shades of brown and dark green. Hands carried rifles with firm grips, R4s, made by factories back in their homeland. As they exited it of the aircraft they began walking towards their rally point where other supplies were being unloaded. The company sized force began assisting in removing crates and pallets full of supplies, while NCO's barked out orders and officers checked off items on clipboards.

The first flight had barely disgorged it's cargo when it turned and began streaming down the runway, on another path and in the opposite direction, until it's nose rose into the air and the wheels departed from the ground and the massive craft began rising into the sky. After a few moments, it had risen so fast it was out of sight of the naked eye. Almost immediately after the first one had departed, another C-160 began coming into view, clearly descending. Just ten minutes ticked off the clock before the second craft's wheels hit the ground and the air lifter began slowing down. As fast as possible it came to a stop and began rolling towards the disembarkment zone, and once there it's rear bay doors opened and unleashed it's cargo. Streams of uniforms, rifles, and crates began pouring out, adding to the already present force there. By the time the second plane was back in the air, almost half a battalion had been unloaded, and thousands of pounds of ammunition, bandages, fuel, MREs, and spare parts had been offloaded. More craft were to follow; by day's end a entire battalion would be on the ground. Tomorrow another battalion was due to arrive, and in a week a naval convoy was expected that would bring in another batch of troops, and most importantly, their vehicles. They were a mechanized brigade after all. And each day the ships sailed another round of aircraft would come and land in Sixington, unload their passengers and their cargo, and take off back for Jedoria.

Keeping in line with the ideal that officers led from the front, the Brigade's Commanding officer, Colonel Grigore Moisil, a stocky but tall man with a square jaw and light regulation mustache. The Colonel, along with his XO, a Lieutenant Colonel, followed him around, as did his personal staff and bodyguards, while he looked for whomever was supposed to meet him here.

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown: Heshbon and Tyrannis

The helicopter sparked and fizzled; exposed wires dangled dripping fluids here and there. Some of the fluid dripping was blood; Sarah Wendt gasped awake realizing that the helicopter was lying on the ground now, and she wasn't sure at first if she could move. Her head ached and her senses swam. She cautiously ran through a body check...neck could move, albeit with some pain; she could see, but one eye felt a bit swollen; flashes of light now and then seemed to flare in darkness behind it. Her fingertips and fingers could wriggle...she heard a moan somewhere but she couldn't feel her legs able to move at first, then realized to her horror that she had had her life saved by Sergeant Androth who was lying over them and had been pierced like a gaffed fish by part of the structure of the helicopter, a strut or something had impaled him. She cautiously moved her legs, and whispered, "Sergeant..." then more loudly, "Sergeant!" He did not react to her movements at all, and she realized that the strut or whatever it was had pierced her leg, but only enough to hurt like hell. However what would she rip free if she moved him?

I don't want to die like this she realized. "Who is alive? Sound off!"

"I'm here, Colonel," said a thick voice a short distance away. "Captain Zymon, Your Honour, I'm here. I half bit my tongue through. Grig is dead. How is Androth?"

"Androth..." she craned her head a bit, "And Morgant are dead." she found her eyes swimming. Morgant and Androth. She barely knew their names, somehow she felt utterly dismal about it. Two nice kids, Morgant who was a boyish NCO, a good tailgunner, resolute and brave and with a cocky grin, Androth, good signaller, one of her staff, she liked the perky sharp witted young woman. That sharp wit was spattered all over the rear compartment. "I'm it, and I'm pinned."

"I'm coming back, Colonel." she heard a sound of clambering in the wreckage. They could hear the sounds of action, small arms and heavy weapons fire steadily in the distance, the thump of mortars, and from their position, the distant moaning howl of ships' guns firing at Tyrannis.

"Wait, radio our position first, make sure they have it," she said. Her skin crawled at the idea of being captured by the ETC.

The Ghantish

The Dakmarans were consolidating their hold over the villages, overrunning the militia there, a few pockets barely holding out but increasingly surrounded, and mostly the villages were now populated by the dead dying and wounded.

Only a couple dozen meters left, but it would hopefully to the ETC defenders seem an eternity and vast distance to the Ghantish coming on. While the trench writhed with wounded and dying, there were enough to do their country loss, and so they mounted their firing steps in the trenches and kept fighting. The last reserves leaned against their sandbags and fired from cover as best they could, ducking down as warnings of "RPG!" and "GRENADE!" were screamed, explosions shuddering above them and dust clouds covering them.

Shell casings rang like a thousand little bells along the zigzag of muddy sandbag built up trenches as riflemen and machinegunners kept firing. The militiaman kept up a steady grunting and shouting, cries of "Ammo, ammo over here!" "I'm out, cover for me!" "Keep it up for the Prophet!" They tried to judge the throwing of grenades so that the oncoming Ghantish would run into one if it was flung. While they had to fire into long grass and in the smoke and fog could not always see them perfectly, they knew they were coming; to the militia it seemed like an oncoming horde of screaming faceless men coming out of the smoke and the tall grasses of the marsh.

The 9th Marines

Thanks to Kiron's strike request, mortarsstarted to rain upon the rebels' position as the machine gun and grenade launcher armed M28s rolled to their vicinity raining down both 50 caliber rounds and 40 mm grenade rounds against them. Soon the M20 Hamsher (or Hamster as they were called by the troops) APC joined the fray spitting off fire from their main weaponry, 25mm autocannon tore through the naked painted bodies. Some of them were flung into the air along with body parts of once were whole men, others were riddled where they lay in wait.

"Infantry, to the left flank, the others to the right flank," Kalandro shouted his orders to the infantry commander.

At the same moment the rain of fire came down to the enemy as 155 mm shells detonated on the ground followed by missile warheads from two ASTROS II Multiple Rocket Launch Systems. Back at the Regimental support unit perimeter away were six PzH 155 mm self-propelled howitzers and the two rocket launch system vehicles, big trucks with big boxes of rocket launch units on them. The hail of death rained upon the rebels as they cling dearly to the ground. While the enemy was in shock, Captain Shadrach Shoba and his D Company infantry troops approached from the flanks. It required disciplined slow and steady in spite of the urgency of the overall plan. Without the attack helicopters they had little choice in the matter. Swift rushes covered by fire from other infantry squads and the armoured vehicles.

Up in the air, the battle raged there; it was a stalemate now; the air cover sent in by the enemy Sea-Terriers were faced also with the Marine Infantry's supporting Shilkas and MANPADs that began to harry them; this lack of air advantage had slowed the swiftness of the advance, but the main point was that in a way, while this goal of capturing the base was important, it would hopefully filter through to the high command in Harbourtown that that was a main goal.

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown: Air and Sea

Padan Air Force Base

By now it was morning, and the base was swarming with activity as the final stages of preparation for the strategic attack on Harbourtown were taking place.

The final system checks, fueling and oiling of five huge bombers was taking place in their hangars. Crew chiefs grumbled and barked orders, while the crews were completing final briefings on the air battle. They had the sense that it was they would would deliver the really important blows in the battle. Poor ground pounders, having to slug through the mud and grime of ground battle, like ants beneath the farmer's feet. And no silly bombs for them--they would be carrying loads of cruise missiles and would simply be grand expensive air mobile missile platforms to strike at the enemy from any angle with.

One bombardier officer was thinking with annoyance about being at a ball at Betharan Palace and having some snide little hussar say to him, "It's all rather like history isn't it? I mean soon your huge planes will be outdated and they'll be replaced with drones with smaller, smarter missiles and bombs, the pilots will be computer operators, and we'll still be needed to seize territory. To thnk they thought it would be the opposite!"

It bothered him. It reminded him of the time he'd heard some wag at university say "in the future, the average work will be done by a man, a machine and a dog. The machine will do the work, the man will feed the dog, the dog will prevent the man from touching the equipment." Ha ha.

Never mind. The bomber flight would deal the death blow, the ground pounders would exploit it and take the real estate. Apparently all rebel air units were distracted by the Monarchist fleets and allied air attacks. Good. On to Harbourtown then.

As he joined the rest of his crew and the other crews were gathering, moving in their flight suits carrying their helmets to their planes, they could hear the sound of explosions, rockets igniting and feel the ground shaking as the Orel missile launchers fired at their targets too. The flashes in the sky in the distance were the rockets igniting on the missiles and sending them at terrifying speeds towards the rebel positions. It really was on. The bombardier officer couldn't help but wonder if the hussar had been right.

The Imperium

Junior Lieutenant Simon Mass did a deep dive towards the sea, trying to shake the missile that had been sent at him; it exploded and the plane shook and he realized he had gotten some damage; warning indicators told him that he was a bit cooked, but he felt he could fly her back towards base safely. He received a code indicating that his usual runways were compromised and they would be using emergency runway systems. The base was under heavy attack. He took her down lower, trying to evade the enemy ships' radars and head for home, looping around and trying to fly in over Harbourtown's proximity itself. His battle was done.

It was for the others too; with ineffective bombs, with only autocannon to fight with, they were doing their best to retreat. It had been the plan all along to have the Sea-Terriers attack the Cacertians and have the Shadowhawks of Adder Flight take on the enemy CAP--but no one had calculated that the Imperium would casually join n the fight. In retrospect, they should have. The Imperium had supported the Monarchists for quite a while.

Junior Lieutenant Eva Gomer was breathing hard, pulling up in a sudden charge for the clouds as she received warnings of being targeted; the missile barely missed as it went just under her tail, and she nearly blacked out with the sudden gs of it; she pulled her mask aside and threw up away from the cockpit window, and blinking rapidly put her breather back in, gasping, a foul taste in her mouth as she retreated as well.

Junior Lieutenant Christopher Kezmiel however was not so fortunate; a combination of autocannon and near hits from missile attacks made him become the favourite target; he was surrounded by screaming warnings and sparks and a smell of electronic smoke and realized he had lost control of the aircraft; he managed to calm himself enough to eject and his seat shot up moments before the Sparrowhawk spun out of control.

Adder Flight was moving in for the kill (hopefully), now flying quietly towards the last designated points, adjusting their flight paths occasionally, knowing that their signals given off would be weak and spotty. However the closer they got, the more inevitable detection would become. It was vital to keep the enemy on their toes. Another missile launch to enable the escape and evade of the harassed flight of Sparrowhawks now embattled by the MiG-29s of the Imperium's CAP. RBS-15s streaked out from under their wings and hurtled towards their opponents; their second attack done, Adder Flight immediately relocated, spinning off at great speed to another location.

The Imperium's fleet having been detected, it was decided to divert one battery of the RBS-15 mobile missile trucks to attacking them while the little surface squadron of the Theocratic Navy devoted itself to attacking the Cacertians. Accordingly, guided by a Kite Rotodyne drone, the RBS-15s immediately focused firing six missiles at one of the Imperium's escorts.

Cacertians

Facing an alerted Cacertian CAP, the Sparrowhawks began to take evasive action; it was only the arrive of the Sea Terrier Squadron that had enabled them to not be focused on entirely as had the maneuvers of the Cacertian fleet itself.

Sea Terrier pilots Jnr. Lt. Miriam Harzas, Midshipman Saul Gama, Midshipman Caleb von Bernardi and Junior Lieutenant Adam Colegrevance were intercepted by Amelina Doria Squadron and Lt Colegrevance was hit by a Cacertian missile but ejected safely. The other three pilots fired sidewinders in response. In the ensuing air duel, both the constant jamming, ECM and the general confusion had seemed to make it hard for anyone to strike true to targets.

While all this was going on, Cacertian ships that had reached within the 30 km mark were coming into range for the smaller craft arrayed out from Harbourtown. These were six small patrol craft with only a crew complement of 30 or so, but they did have two Exocet launchers each, 20mm anti-aircraft guns and heavy machineguns on them. The six craft had put out to sea a time ago and were now moving towards the Cacertian fleet. Their small low profiles would hopefully be hard to detect for an enemy distracted by the air and missile attacks.

Tyrannis Naval Air Station

Smoke and fire could now clearly be seen from Harbourtown; sirens were going off everywhere as fire brigade trucks rushed to contain the destruction and prevent the flames from spreading. The ground shook as if pounded by God himself.

From one of the emergency landing zones a line of TH-300 Navy helicopters streamed out towards the sea, intending to support the patrol ships' attack with anti-ship missiles. Captain Ephraim still believed it possible to win the battle and turn off the enemy attack, if only they could. One flight of the helicopters were on station to rescue fallen pilots as well.

4 CFHQN-1 Drones were returning as well, these ones to be outfitted with Exocets. While it was an older missile, it would do at range, which certainly the drones could reach being under the usual radar signature. As they were rotodynes, they could be tilted and simply flown like swift little planes to the emergency runways.

"Captain, the first perimeter area is under attack by ground troops," reported the security officer crisply. "They are making steady progress; light infantry have attacked the Southern Brigade's First and Third Battalions; Second Battalion staging area has been hit hard by enemy artillery. Their Fourth Battalion is under attack from Mechanized Infantry. General Benajah is organzing reserves to send against them."

"Understood," said Captain Ephraim, feeling a tightening of her bowels in response. "I want napalm and missile strikes against the areas they need strongest support." That was it then; the helicopters, patrol ships and drones were the only further attacks they could do against the fleet, and would simply have to do. When inevitably Adder Flight ran out of missiles, when the Sea-Terriers were forced to retreat, it would be a scramble to get planes re-armed and sent out again. In theory at least, the enemy would be freed up. But hopefully they would be in the same boat. It all came down to initiative now.

God, please...hold them.. she murmured to herself, bowing her head in pious hope.

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown: Salcah

JABBOK

3-6th Engineers moved towards the fighting to help with the mining. They could not afford de-mining robots in the New Edomite military; what they had were giant pouched rats that were experts at it. The only rats accepted were ones with 100% success rates which were bred with similar rats; the current generation was very up to date. In addition to these little rodents they of course had regular EOD equipment--again--a little primitive by the standards of other forces but suiting them well enough.

Besides these they had de-mining vehicles that would move ahead of the Hutanjians with flails and dozer blades intended to remove the mines from the field directly while covered as they moved by the Hutanjian mechanized forces. Lieutenant-Colonel Jonathan Boreas, the commander, organized coordination efficiently.

The Sparrowhawk flight of six planes found themselves attacked on all sides; they dispensed their countermeasures flashing and sparking in clouds and glares to evade missile attacks but could not gain initiative to further attack themselves. One of the planes piloted by Lieutenant Theodore Martial found his name inappropriate and he was forced to eject in the no-man's land between the two opposing forces. Two other Sparrowhawks went to ground and literally flew right over the approaching New Edomite engineers at breakneck speed, hunted now by Edomite anti-aircraft as well.

The remaining three more experienced pilots diverted; one barrel rolled out of the way of a missile and braked hard for another, ECM flashing to defeat it as the pilot, Lieutenant Anna Raphael, went in a loop following to counterattack with a barrage of autocannon fire and a fired sidewinder. Another pilot in similar maneuvers fired two missiles in swift succession, the last trying to lead the enemy pilots astray with a twisting run for the clouds.

The Eastern Brigade's AA battalion continued to counter-strike at whatever enemy planes or helicopters came into their sights; radar tracking at closer ranges such as these and aided by the still stealthy and quiet UAVs enabling them to at least target the enemy air vehicles. 20mm autocannon continued to blaze away at whatever was presented, tracking enemy helicotpers ruthelessly, MANPADs trying to shoot ahead of them to trap them where possible.

The Hutanjian Rangers had landed north flank of the town. They found themselves near an area called Poet's Field, an athletic area and recreational area before the war, largely set up now with rear echelon units and defenses such as razor wire but with a number of blocked off roads. Lieutenant Elias Lacuna, commanding a patrol unit seconded from one of the transport battalions, had been uneasily lighting up a cigarette as he and his patrol rested on a dirt road just north of the field when he heard the sound of helicopters.

However he wasn't sure where the sound was coming from due to the noise of explosions near the town. His orders from his battalion commander were to maintain his patrol; the fighting was all south and east apparently. A full strength battalion would be placed in the area under reserve; meanwhile the rear echelon troops there were to arm pickets and patrols more heavily and give out ammunition reserves.

The main rear echelon area encamped at Poet's field was largely the armed company of the transport battalion, four machinegun nests controlling the road approaches, the transport battalion's motor pool which was busy getting underway to move troops more quickly, engines revving and vehicles rumbling into or away from the town (which was why Lieutenant Elias Lacuna had a hard time making out where the helicopters had gone) and an encampment of logistics troops who were largely Militia.

The logistics unit was also busy; they were mostly walking wounded Militia assigned to the unit, old men and women and girls, who were dousing cooking fires and lining up to receive orders about which supplies were needed and where. The commander, a one armed older militiaman named Elder Brother Seraph, primarily had orders to organize them to start falling back towards Harbourtown to the west of the town and reorganize a supply dump for fuel, ammunition, food and medicine there.

The two flanking regiments were being pinned down by enemy artillery; casualties were actually not terrible, but the casualties due to morale loss were high. The crippling loss of their own field artillery's ammunition vehicle and several of their 105mm towed pieces, the constant shelling that had slowed their advance to the ambush areas, the crumbling buildings and defenses around them had lost them some critical time. Lieutenant-Colonel Isaac Dan was infuriated to discover that the two regiments had barely moved. At this rate the enemy would control the roads and get into position to dig into them.

"We should order a retreat; the town is like a dead weight," said his adjutant to him.

"If we order a retreat they could break." Dan argued, shaking his head.

"Colonel, if we don't they'll break anyway. They've been through a lot, and this is too much. We need to fall back the most cohesive units, fight on our own ground. Besides, we can say it was orders from Benajah."

Isaac Dan stared at him like he was an enemy for a moment, then squared his shoulders. "Which are those?"

Unhesitatingly, the adjutant said, "There are four companies at least we can fall back that are in good order. If we give them a strategic withdrawal order, it may stiffen the resolve of the others, sir."

Dan didn't like it, but felt he had no choice. "Give the order," he said. However he had learned something since taking over the command of the brigade at Salcah: just because you gave orders didn't mean that time and events didn't get away from you...

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown

When the explosions began to be heard, the Vice-Ethnarch, Gamaliel, started in his chair and looked up at the Commandant, who had just been putting a report before him.

"What the hell...I mean what in the name of all that is Holy was that?" he had exclaimed.

"It...I'm sure it wasn't one of ours..." the commandant said, freezing. Then he held up a hand. "Wait a moment...wait...those are naval guns. My word, it's started...the attack on the city. It's started."

Gamaliel grabbed himself just before he could squirt urine onto the floor. One of the most irritating things about not wearing pants. He said, "Alright, find out what's going on. Should we go to the shelter?" he got up, his hand still cupped, feeling a straing and ache as he moved to his private bathroom.

"I'll find out," said the commandant of militia, departing the room.

The Refugee Center

Queen Mara sat quietly, hearing the sound of fans and water trickling around her in the warm air of the aquaponics area of the garden center. Like everything. Like everything in her life, it came to nothing: her peace efforts. Nothing. Her journey: nothing.

Nothing would come to nothing. She slowly got up, and wiped her tears away with a grimy hand. She walked out of the building and her sandaled feet clattered against the pavement, she felt the sun on her body, and heard thunder in the distance. Yes, it would come after all.

As though in a trance, she went to the gates, but the militia were not paying attention; people were gathered there anyway trying to get in, lining up, waving passports frantically; and hardly anyone was paying attention to who was coming out; she was just another naked body moving through, shoved in fact. Mara was almost grateful; she went to her knees and skinned one; one brawny militaman hauled her up.

"Easy my honey, you took a spill," he said kindly. "Where are you off to then cutie?" he asked, looking at her face with growing pleasure.

"I'm...I work in the garden center, I am just going to see to my family, I'm so worried," she said. As he saw her tears his smile faded.

"Of course you will, sweetheart. Listen, I'm Jedediah. If you need someone to walk you to church sometime..." he blurted, then blushed.

"Oh how sweet...I'd have to ask my Papa," she said looking nervous, which was not hard.

"Oh...right...I'm sorry yes..well have a good day..." he said wistfully, watching her go a moment before being yelled at by his squad leader to watch his zone or get a boot up his ass.

Mara walked out into the streets, seeing her people, frantic and frightened, and let her feet simply take her where she needed to go. Too many plans, that was it. She had to let God take her where she needed to be. As she walked, trucks of militia moved in column through the streets, convoys moving rapidly westward. Alarms were going off, bells were ringing.

[Arbites]

Air Battle

Jamming and forewarning by AWACS saved a few more Imperial aircraft, but three more MiGs were downed by the Shadowhawks. With the Sparrowhawks bugging out, it was clear the Shadowhawks intended to cover their retreat. However, the MiGs doggedly pursued regardless, aware that a plan was in motion. They got onto the Sparrowhawks' tails, putting autocannon rounds and heat-seekers up their tailpipes, finally able to weed them out from Boa's CAP.

The losses were acceptable, and served a purpose of their own. In launching their second round of missiles, the Shadowhawks compromised their stealth. Foresight One detected the enemy and immediately alerted Foxtrot squadron to the stealth fighters' last known position, who had apparently not quite picked up their pursuers' trail just yet. Aware the rebels wouldn't be likely to replace these dangerous but highly sophisticated aircraft, all twelve of the aircraft climbed and started sweeping the skies with their IRST sensors. They were looking for signs of the fighters' scalding hot jet exhaust, rather than radar signatures.

Foxtrot Lead was a veteran of the last war who had squared off against Adiran Crows. Pilots of stealth aircraft, assuming they weren't so green they thought they were invisible, tended to use hit and run tactics. Fire a few missiles, knowing that doing so might reveal themselves, then bolt. That was the pattern. Foresight had provided the location of the last missile launch. He anticipated they would bank away from the battle to repeat the process once again, rather than joining it outright. There was nothing for a few seconds...until the Emperor provided. There was a fleeting indicator of one of the Shadowhawks, they'd manage to ambush them after all. If nothing else they might manage to disrupt the attack.

"Contact! 5 klicks north, Foxtrot two through four on me. You get any kind of tone, you take it! The Emperor will do the rest!" Four of the MiGs broke off to pursue the bandit, which Foxtrot lead soon managed to reacquire. He fired an R-73, then a few seconds over the radio heard Foxtrot 2 confirm that he'd done the same. Soon they'd be within visual range of the bastard, and there would be no more hiding.

The rest of Foxtrot squadron continued to sweep the skies, looking for the other two aircraft. Foresight tried to direct them and looked for additional missile launches, while the AWACS' escort went on alert as well.

HHV Harbinger

Admiral Rothbard was coordinating the air battle when Foresight Two, part of the fleet's defensive CAP, alerted the fleet. What followed was a flurry of radio messages. "Dale this is Foresight Two, six missiles incoming, over"

"Roger that Foresight, we've got the same thing. Evasive maneuvers! Weapons free!"

"Goose, this is Foresight Two, provide cover for Dale, over," the AWACS said, directing a flight from the CAP.

The Edomites' target was the HHV Dale, a guided missile destroyer on the periphery of the fleet. The ship turned hard into the path of the missiles, presenting as small a target as it could. Its radar worked to filter out the noise of the battle raging a ways out, until the deck was consumed by fire and smoke. Six S-400 missiles shot out of the VLS, one at a time, each popping up briefly before the missiles' engines fired and sent them streaking off into the sky. It was clear they wouldn't get another salvo off, so canisters shot into the sky which burst in white clouds of chaff. Goose Squadron above managed to get a flight in position in time to fire off R-73 missiles to intercept the Edomite missiles. EW aircraft blared electronic noise.

All of this and more was necessary. The missiles were streaking in just above the waves. Two of the CAP's missiles connected, locked onto the missiles' heat signatures. Two of the Dale's own SAMs managed to hit as well. The fifth seemed to have a malfunction or perhaps was confused by the jamming; although no missiles connected it skipped off the water before breaking apart. The sixth still managed to get through, but it was slightly fooled by a cloud of chaff. Rather than impacting at the water line, it slammed into the superstructure but didn't detonate. It seemingly got a glancing blow, and the warhead didn't detonate on the impact. This impact did, of course, tear the missile apart, with its ignited fuel setting fire to the deck. A few seconds later, not far off of the ship, the missile's fuze did trigger and a deafening blast went off the Dale's port side.

Damage control set to work trying to control the blaze. There were wounded from the blast, unfortunate souls on the port side with terrible burns and grisly shrapnel wounds. The ship's chaplain was administering last rites to a man with a mutilated face, choking on his own blood. Another was found missing an arm, screaming in pain huddled against a wall as the medics tried to put a tourniquet on him.

Rothbard was kept appraised of the entire thing. Task Force Boa was stalled indefinitely. The Cacertians were stalled. It was up to him now. Pushing thoughts of his grandfather from his mind, he contacted Romain. "General Romain, rebel air cover is attempting to retreat. Despite our best efforts, Task Force Boa is largely crippled. As the Cacertians may be left unsupported and Fifth Fleet has just come under missile attack, we will begin cruise missile bombardment of NAS Tyrannis momentarily. Priority will be given to counter-battery fire."

Like in Damoclea, Rothbard had launched a number of small UAVs, tiny things from launch rails and collected by essentially dangling hooks. They could be launched and retrieved from any ship in the fleet, though normally the patrol craft didn't carry them for lack of space. His fleet's AWACS were also busy monitoring the situation. Between them, they traced the points of origin of the missiles. Alarms went off on the decks of the fleet's destroyers and its guided missile cruisers. Rothbard considered using the Vanguard's Q-ships, but wanted to keep them hidden.

Blinding light and then smoke consumed the decks of the Imperial ships. Missiles streaked into the sky, over 50 of them, aimed at the rebel anti-ship missiles and SAMs. It was imprecise, so in addition to high explosive they also used airburst cluster munitions. These missiles would release bomblets scattered over a wide area that would explode about 10 meters in the air, firing shaped charges downwards that would tear personnel and unarmored vehicles to shreds. Some would likely be intercepted by their air defenses, but if Tyrannis' SAMs fired, the AWACS would work to pinpoint them for SEAD.

[Ghant]

The Battle of Harbourtown

...Turned out getting into the trenches wasn't going to be as simple as everyone thought, at least the way Ion considered it. Funny how it seemed as though the open field between the villages and the trenches grew larger and larger the closer the Ghantar got to it. Yet, they certainly got a wakeup call when they realized that getting to the trenches would require more than just running and jumping in like lemmings.

The men in the trenches weren't going to let the Ghantar get close enough to jump in without a fight. They kept at it, mounting their firing steps in order to shoot, leaning against sandbags and shooting from cover. They shot RPGs and threw grenades into the field, and the advancing Ghantar suffered the hits. The ringing of machinegun bullets sounded in the air, cutting man down through the smoke and the fog.

While death in combat was the considered the greatest death, dying needlessly did nobody any good. The small unit commanders knew as much, and they knew they had the benefit of heavy smoke, fog and tall grass to take advantage of. So they put their tactics to good use. "Makurtu eta beste taldetan belauniko eta tiro estaltzeko bitartean. Ondoren ordezko" (crouch and run while other squads cover by kneeling and firing. Then alternate) was what was being said, as if they were still leapfrogging. So they decided to give it a try.

The advancing Ghantar got low to the tall grass, Ion among them, with those ahead kneeling and engaging in direct fire against targets in the trenches. Those behind them advanced forward, couching and running as they were, until they got ahead of the ones kneeling and firing. Then they switched that again, and again...

Meanwhile, the Dakmooran contingent was still in the process of establishing firm control over the villages by doing a sweep and clear. They had to be prepared to act as a reserve for the leapfrog force, otherwise known as the frogs, should it be needed. There were still pockets of resistance holding out against the surrounding Ghantar. The Ghantar were determined to overrun them and lay them low where they found them, while medics drifted about to tend to the wounded and dying. A few Ghantar took to combing the villages for wounded enemies, putting them out of their misery with knives, daggers and bayonets. Their own dying often craved a quick, honorable death, and when it was necessary, a Ghantar would slide a blade into the heart of another, to put an end to his suffering and send him to the halls of his gods.

Elsewhere, behind the Ghantish lines, the helicopter many saw spinning out of control after it got hit by the enemy crashed into the ground. A radio signal confirming this went to Lord Aldapa's field HQ, and Aldapa sent one back. "Hang in there...we are sending men to get you out of there."

Once he was done with that, Aldapa spoke to the other Ghantar. "Well, we need to go rescue those from the downed helicopter..."

When Alaric Dain realized who was in it, he gasped in horror. Sarah...oh no. "I will lead the rescue."

"Will you now?" Aldapa asked, curtly.

"Yes," he insisted. "Allow me, my lord. And I will see it done and the survivors tended to."

Aldapa waved his hand. "Alright then, gather your medics and riflemen and go to them. Get them back here as soon as you can."

"Understood," Alaric said with a bow. "Thank you my Lord." The young Dain lordling gathered from the reserve force four medics and eight riflemen, with some medical supplies, and they proceeded to double back to the jeeps. They took three, and proceeded to drive them out towards the crash site, which was in the marsh southwest of the Ghantish position.

[Late Roman Empire]

"God damn it, we have to get across and yesterday, move it, damn you! You cunni, get your culi into gear and finish bridging this water! Let's get moving, you slugs!" the pilus prior centurion of the bridging cohort demanded of his men.

The Romans were now working at break-neck speed, knowing that they had to deal with this water and mud slough before they could even get to the foe, and every hour lost risked discovery and fresh ambushes being created that the Rovers and the scouts didn't yet know about. The Romans moved with the utmost efficiency, no time for anything but the smallest amount of food, drink, and rest before getting back to back-breaking work on the scene. Clearing the path was no easy task...nor was bridging, but it was engineers' work, and by God, they were engineers! Roman engineers....and they had a job to do. Nothing else mattered but the job. Nothing.

Meanwhile, Remus wasn't blind to the danger of possible attacks. The longer that they waited, the worse it could get. Including threats from the air.

"Make sure that you keep our gunships in the air, Tribune. Fuel, fly, and keep the foe at bay. They can't be allowed to stop us from advancing on the enemy position. Or even slow us down! Keep those gunships flying. And keep those spotters looking out for the best targets. We want to know what to hit and when to hit it when we advance. Now, remember.....probing attacks first to detect weaknesses....followed by the artillery barrage, the main one, and the main thrust.....with the idea of exploiting any weaknesses while forcing the foe to spread himself thin. Tanks to push toward possible weak spots in the perimeter, with mechanized infantry from behind to exploit and expand the gaps. Sure, we could do full-frontal, but that's nothing but a waste of human life when it's not necessary. If dirty tricks save lives, I'll use them. That's the Roman way....the practical way," Remus asserted.

The orders continued to go down the line to prepare for the various feints and main thrust and look out for any enemy aircraft. Any MANPADs were to be deployed if possible and when possible. Gunships were to be busy, busy, busy.....And Herennia was so excited....not just for the battle, but for the prospect of meeting that delightful young Rover.....that Edomite captain...what was his name again....Victor? Such a regal, imperial name...so worthy of a soldier. But would he even be interested in a mere cadet like her who was often regarded with suspicion as not a real soldier or officer and being very Roman, very foreign, to boot? Or was there too little in common now?

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown: Roman advance from old position near St. Joseph.

Since the Roman attack helicopters, tanks and artillery were available, and were ready for strikes against the ambush positions, that was how Captain Victor Radu directed them.

The revelation of the ambush points near the bridge and the ford resulted in them being pinned down rapidly by rocket, autocannon and artillery fire.

"Keep the tanks back," said Boogus (Captain Radu) through Melzo, his RTO and intelligence officer. "There are going to be ambushes crawling through this area. Move up mech infantry and keep the tanks and IFVs rear of them for fire support."

"Fucking Roman amateurs," he muttered to his team. "They always were though, give them an open field or a town and they can fight like hell, you can smell their nervousness here."

"It's kind of like you're in command," agreed Raddy.

"Yeah, you're like Legate Boogus," said Melzo, giggling.

"Stay focused, and shut up...they might do a counter-ambush." and in fact their headsets buzzed--that was precisely what the rebels were doing according to their UAV. The rebels had sent a much of mother naked militia scouts to sneak into the water and cross, no doubt to outflank them.

"Let them through, tell the Romans," said Boogus curtly. Mud and water rained down on them as a round landed dangerously near. "Whoop! Tell them to walk 'em forward, Wizard. Let's fall back a bit." they grinned and giggled silently as the destruction of the Northern Brigade's forward areas continued, rattling and moving them; as they scatttered they were hit with terrifying swiftness by Roman attack helicopters, which, prepared for MANPADs deployed countermeasures as fast as they came at them. The Roman advance had begun.

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown: Heshbon and Tyrannis

The Ghants

As so often happened, the reaching of the trenches revealed their opponents to merely be men and boys; they frantically, finding themselves often suddenly alone or in small groups facing a rush of enemy soldiers as others were screaming or silenced by blasts of grenades or a rush of enemy troops blazing away with bullets punching into their comrades were either running down the line of trenches zigzagging, stopping to fire at one only to be struck by another. There were ruined bodies everywhere in the trenches.

Ion found himself face to face with both a screaming body of a boy writhing on the ground and another dropping his rifle to fire at him with a pistol; one of the trenches zigzagging back towards the Southern Brigade's lines had a squad of naked militia falling back firing as they went, one threw a smoke grenade to cover their retreat. At another position, a group of youths barely more than fourteen or fifteen, seven of them, suddenly began dropping their rifles and crying out in rough country Latin, "No shoot, no shoot!" At another a machinegunner was firing furiously, screaming over and over "The sword of the Lord!" as Ghantish troops swarmed in on either side of him; his assistant gunner crying out in fury and turning to fire a burst at the left side while the other was exposed.

Towards the rear, the most effective Ghant penetration found nearly everone dead, a butcher's yard mess of blood, scattered limbs, intestines, brains, fragments of bone and flesh around ruined mortars and exploded ammunition, a horribly alive old man nearly cut in half gurgling blood there. The trench zigzagged back to the rear and the dark entrance of a bunker lay before them.

Towards the rear, the helicopter lay in the marsh, on its side, one propeller broken. There was no activity around it until they could see a New Edomite pilot in a muddy blood streaked jumpsuit moving around it as though in pain.

The 9th Marine Infantry

The attack run of the rebel Sparrowhawk fighters was diverted from attacking D Company by a MANPADs attack and a Shilka attack from defending anti-aircraft, and chose instead to launch its napalm bomb at C Company on the flank, where it failed to explode, to the frustration of the pilot, who cursed the munitions factory, everyone who had worked there and owned it to their earliest ancestors. The second plane however did have its bomb go off and C Company's forward elements were engulfed in flames, two vehicles superheating and exploding, soldiers screaming and dying as flaming gasoline overwhelmed them.

"Mother of God," groaned Kiron, seeing this, the heat even from that distance washing over him; soldiers of the advancing platoons of C Company were seared or knocked down by the explosion and the flanking company was halted.

"Keep moving," shouted Shobal. "Keep going, advance!"

On the road ahead, Tyrannis was burning. The smoke filled the sky. It hung like a growing haze over the land, the smell of it was unbelievable. In the distance the constant thunder of it, the ground shaking with it was terrifying.

Kiron was shocked. Suddenly before them there was nothing but the dead, the frantically surrendering, the shattered, wreckages of vehicles and men, and he felt a weird exhileration. Now, now, on to Tyrannis! Captain Shobal said, "I want a squad to hold back, watch these bastards, have one of the other companies secure them! Get these damned savages out of my way! This is a day for Monarchists!" he screamed, his voice hoarse. "Gloria in Excelsis Deo!"

The Marine Infantry advanced, and someone began to whistle the Iron March and soon they were all doing it as they advanced with their rumbling machines towards their goal. Kiron found himself doing the same thing. It was like the booms of the artillery and naval forces hitting the base were the drum beats. He felt his heart stir wildly. He felt like he could kill a hundred men up close. Men like him, they had called in the powerful fire destroying the rebel naval air station before him. Him, Shobal, Noyeed, Ravin--men of iron, the 9th Marines. The iron fist of the Heir!

[Hittanryan]

Golden Peacock
Harbourtown

The news crew had done a big segment on the riots. They started out with footage of the riot itself, including a shot showing the Vyrsarian vehicles being hit with Molotov cocktails and the nonlethal rounds being fired. Then they cut to footage of the rioters kneeling in prayer, with Olsen explaining that citywide announcements had been made by Malachi calling for the rioting to stop and for the militia to stand down, and it worked. After that they got to the damage, having collected some damage estimates and death tolls from the CPO, the ETC, and some of the NWP. Footage of burned homes, wrecked cars, and bodies in the street reached Adiron. They showed the peacekeepers and the NCR offering medical treatment to the wounded, and broadcast in full the tearful accounts of everyone who was willing to talk at NWP HQ. Holly had done better this time, she kept at her job diligently, only finally collapsing with exhaustion and sorrow once she got back to the hotel. Baby steps.

Olsen's reporting wasn't garnering much support for the ETC back home. With most viewers not understanding all of the politics at work (in spite of Olsen's efforts to explain), the stories in a way validated Adiran perceptions of religious fanaticism as cruel, mindless, and violent. Even the fact that Malachi's words were enough to stop the riot didn't reassure many. Some wondered if Malachi and the ETC leadership had a hand in the violence and wondered if they could have stopped the riot at any time. Others noted that the riot still achieved its objective of forcing Dr. Campion's party out of the city (General Deaton eventually agreeing to evacuate him and his staff). More liberal types were disturbed by what appeared the blind obedience of the rioters to religious leaders and violence towards everyone else; it reminded them a little too much of a certain theocracy across the border.

As the news crew kept up with the coverage, Chris became aware of pundits criticizing the Theocratic Republic's violent tendencies. Although the DeGroot government was doing its best to stay neutral, Olsen knew that the theocrats in Harbourtown would feel threatened and isolated as public opinion abroad turned against them. They would look for someone to blame. His face was on TV, broadcast around the region including to Harbourtown. Mob justice was rarely entirely logical, and the ETC would probably have better reasons than most to find fault with a reporter printing negative stories about them.

There was also the news from home about Isidium. Holly was glued to the TV when she wasn't working, tears coming when accounts of survivors came up. During the war the fighting had always been in the east. Isidium was on the Adiran coast, where she was from. It was suddenly like war was right next door. She lit a candle in her window in solidarity with a candlelight vigil back home. Chris spotted in in the middle of the day, Holly explained that with the time change it was at the right time.

None of that was enough to keep Olsen up at night though. He'd covered stories with risks before, and he'd covered Adiron's more desperate hours. About a week after his arrival, something else woke him up. It was just his phone, caller ID said it was Holly. It was only after he was awake that he noticed the other sounds. Sharp, harsh thunder. Roars of jet engines. Apparently he was desensitized enough to them that he might have slept through the start of the battle. It sounded close too.

Shaking Travis by the arm, he roused with a curse, hearing the same sounds of battle. "Can we assume the ceasefire's over?" he asked groggily.

Chris went over to the window. NAS Tyrannis was in flames. "Yeah," he said, before finally answered Holly.

"Chris...what do we do? It's...look out there..." she said, her voice sounding small.

That was a good question. The now-cornered ETC might be more inclined to take their frustrations out on a news crew if the chips were down. Then again, Monarchist artillery fire was no picnic either. There was the CPO FOB, but what if the CPO came under attack as well? What had happened to the ceasefire? "Meet me downstairs," he said. Damn archaic laws, couldn't just talk in their own rooms.

In the cafe there were a few other worried guests. Chris had thrown on a pair of khakis and the button-down he'd worn yesterday. When Holly appeared it looked like she wearing nothing but a large loose grey Hammerheads t-shirt, though she did have some silk pajama shorts on which were too short to be seen under the t-shirt. "It's not stopping," she said. "I watched it, and it's coming from all around us now."

"Yeah, I know," Chris said.

"I thought...the Queen...and how the riot stopped..." she mumbled, drifting off.

"It's not that easy," Chris replied.

"But the CPO. It was supposed to be a ceasefire," she said.

"They broke it," Chris said simply. "I talked to Hodgson. The ETC broke it. Guerrillas and riots. Now if Tyrannis is getting shelled...I guess the Monarchists decided enough was enough."

"But why?" Holly asked. "They didn't have to go to war. There was a chance at peace. They didn't have to fight."

Chris looked outside, saw ETC militia speeding through the streets. No longer the hunters, the vigilantes chasing down the Theocratic Republic, but unsure soldiers sent to battle. "They thought different," he finally said. He tried to look for his next words. "Holly, I'm sorry I brought you here."

"Why?" she asked, looking at him.

"I didn't know what we'd be doing here. You're not ready for this," Olsen explained.

Frowning, she shook her head. "Who would ever be ready for this on their first try? Chris, I can't just forget everything since Carnmag. I can't go back. I know what sort of stuff happens out here in the real world now. Before I didn't. I can't forget it now..."

Holding up a hand, Chris said "That's not what I meant. I mean I should've known we might end up in a warzone. Here...I want to be square with you. We'll do everything we can to be safe. Even then though...there's always a chance."

Holly's resolve seemed to evaporate, her eyes going wide. "But...we're reporters. We're not...we're not fighting..."

"I know," he said, putting a hand on hers. "War's confusing, chaotic. You've heard the term collateral damage, though, right?"

"Then...should we get out of here?" she said. Always the first instinct.

"There's a risk there too. Maybe just as bad. The ETC's scared now. Might make them more hostile towards foreigners like us," he said. "But I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I promise."

She looked off in the distance at nothing in particular. "What happened, Chris? Why is the world falling apart?"

"I don't know how together it was in the first place," he remarked. "It's usually our jobs to find out why. I've got a few questions for Hodgson and the rest of the CPO myself."

"Then...let's do it," Holly said. The phrasing caught Chris a little off-guard, suddenly noticing that as Holly ran a hand through her hair that she wasn't wearing anything under the shirt. She seemed to catch herself. "I mean, find out. You know," she blushed.

"Well..."

"I think our odds are just as bad staying here as trying to leave. Plus if we can get to the CPO, it must be at least a little safer, right?" she asked.

Chris decided not to explain how peacekeepers often failed to terrify regular military. "If you're sure, pack and get dressed. This is probably going to get worse before it gets better, so we'd better head out quick." She nodded and they both went back up the stairs.

Before they left the Golden Peacock, Olsen found that he'd lost contact with the network. The electronic warfare being waged just offshore was wreaking havoc on his satellite communications. Rikkers got footage of the bombing of Tyrannis from the roof while they got everything together. They set off into the streets of Harbourtown, one step ahead of the battle, loading up their gear into the car and making for the airport.

[Ghant]

The Battle of Harbourtown

The frogs, as they were called, utilized their strategy to seemingly great effect, as they reached the trenches and began hopping in. The bravest of the Thular and Odolargians, with their yellow and red eyes and shaggy hair, tall and strong, advanced fiercely into the trenches. Many of them shouted, "Utzi heriotza hartu duzu azkar" (let death take you swiftly) as they entered the trenches amidst battle crys, targeted firing and close quarters combat.

To Ion's knowledge, the men in the trenches had to have been green as grass themselves, or scared shitless besides, as when the northerlings began to pour into the trenches, they began to run, turning to shoot back only to be shot themselves. There was no mercy, no quarter...if one was naked in those trenches, they were laid low with a savage ferocity by howling Ghantar with a taste for blood and a newfound sense of morale as they went about sweep and clear tactics.

Ion entered the trenches and found himself face to face with a screaming boy writhing on the ground and another dropping his rifle to fire at him with a pistol. Ion went to shoot the latter, hoping to take him out before he had the chance to fire. When Ion had the opportunity to address the screaming boy, he shouted at him. "Play dead, or you will be killed," he said as he looked around for danger.

Elsewhere, a similar situation unfolded as Prince Olyvar of Thule and a group of Thular came upon a group of seven boys, appearing to be fourteen or fifteen. When the Thulish Prince and his group came upon them, the boys began dropping their rifles and crying out in rough country Latin, "No shoot, no shoot!"

Olyvar put his hand in the air before his vicious Thular moved to kill them. Then he told them the same thing Ion said elsewhere. "Play dead, boys...or you will be for real," he told them in a very rough, guttural Latin accent as he pointed at the ground. Then he and the others continued on their way.

At another position, a machinegunner was firing furiously, screaming over and over "The sword of the Lord!" as Ghantish troops swarmed in on either side of him; his assistant gunner crying out in fury and turning to fire a burst at the left side while the other was exposed.

"Zure Jainkoa dudanean duzu" (your God beckons you) the swarming Ghantar began to say in unison as hey approached. The ones coming in on the left were taking shots, while the ones on the right moved in with their rifles to gun their enemies down. They had grins on their faces.

Towards the rear, the most effective Ghant penetration found nearly everyone dead, a butcher's yard mess of blood, scattered limbs, intestines, brains, fragments of bone and flesh around ruined mortars and exploded ammunition, a horribly alive old man nearly cut in half gurgling blood there. Twas the work of the Odolargians in their bloodlust, painting their part of trenches red. When they could, they stooped down and soaked their hands in the blood of the dead, and then proceeded to wipe their faces in it, making their faces as red as their eyes. One of them, a hulking man a mop of black hair and a face covered in blood, stood over the old man nearly cut in half. He leaned over and spoke to him in guttural Latin. "Your god has abandoned you. But mine hasn't," he said with a smirk as he shoved his bayonet through the man's eye.

The trench zigzagged back to the rear and a dark entrance of a bunker lay before them, and what Ghantar were in that part of the trenches began to stream inside, while the air was filled with the sounds of screams and howling, and the ground littered with the dead, Edomites and Ghantar alike.

At the helicopter crash site behind Ghantish lines, the destroyed chopper lay in the marsh, on its side, one propeller broken. The Ghantish jeeps approached it, and Alaric looked for any signs of life. There was no activity around it until they could see a New Edomite pilot in a muddy blood streaked jumpsuit moving around it as though in pain.

Once the jeeps got close enough, Alaric and his detachment got out and advanced to the downed chopper. "Hello, I am Alaric Dain of the Ghantish contingent. I came with some men to help and get you to safety." Alaric gestured towards the medics to get into the wreckage and look for survivors and address their injuries should they have them. "Alaric took note of pilot. "It is going to be alright, friend. Just hang in there," then he frantically looked around. "Sarah..."

[Late Roman Empire]

The Roman plan of drawing out the enemy into the open seemed to be working at its basic goal, but the Edomites recommended a revision from the initial plan. Given that the Edomites knew the ground better, Remus decided to defer to their judgment in this case. Perhaps there was some greater degree of the tanks being cut off or something, though for his money, it was never the Roman plan to actually engage the tanks as the spearhead of the real assault, only to use them as a deceptive exercise to trick the Northern Brigade into spreading themselves and force them to react to the Romans rather than carry out whatever plans they really had. Once the Northern Brigade had stuck its neck out, Remus had planned to spring his actual attack, much along the same lines as Radu indicated. But a feint had to be sufficiently scary to cause the ETC to panic and not use their heads....that was the idea, at any rate.

Instead, he switched to Plan B, drawn up as a contingency as before, as Remus was nothing if not methodical to a fault. He had plans A, B, C, and D all memorized in his head and the documents for them destroyed.

"Alright, they seem to reacting to us better than I hoped. Sticking their necks out. The Rovers seem to have done our diversion for us. So, time for the main assault. Keep spotters correcting as need, but I want a proper artillery bombardment for the enemy positions. Keep gunships moving forward and delivering their payloads. Don't let the enemy breathe. Have mechs advance with full armored fire support. We need to expedite things a good deal," Remus commanded.

"Certainly, Prefect," Scaptius passed on the orders, and dispatched Salvia Herennia to inform Radu over encrypted radio.

"Plan A corrected and revised due to diversion already provided. Elephants to pull back as not needed for original mission. Plan B commencing," she radioed on a secure channel.

The Roman gunships began delivering real hell from their autocannon and rockets, while the Roman artillery now unleashed the doom that were howitzers, mortars, and self-propelled rockets. Thank God for the spotters...what might be wasted without them....just behind them, the mechanized infantry dismounted and awaited the chance to advance on foot, their IFVs and main-battle tanks pulling up the rear to aid them. It was time to prove once and for all that Rome was no paper tiger.

[Macureus]

The Congress had taken days since its May Day opening session to sort through its dickering, but finally a government had emerged to replace the Special Executive. It was to be called the Council of Executive Commissars, and its Chairman was the incumbent, Anu Namin. Progressive leaders managed to get a new Deputy Chairman, Silar Kozin, who was handpicked by the Standing Commission of the Progressive Party of Macureus. She was the major change, of course, and thus acted as a liaison between the largest party in Congress, which named the new President of the Congress, Antir Sulon, from its own ranks as well, and the executive, the traditional source of authority in the nation. General Ira Murayawa was retained as Commissar of Defense and Security, Dir Datin was still Foreign Affairs Commissar, Idar Calin was now Commissar of Finance, and Nora Lavin was now Commissar of Trade. Dr. Sivar Ulin of the National Legal Institute was now Commissar of Justice.

The next change was the creation of a Presidency, which was naturally vested in General Ios Melin, since the short absence of him from being head of state had been alarming to people used to his leadership. He was formally elected President by the Congress of People's Deputies for a 6 year term, which meant that he would not become a private citizen again until 2021. Former First Citizen Aren Dazun was chosen as Ambassador to the WA and Delegate to the Peace Council of the CPO in his stead. Of course, for those really in the know, there was never any real illusion that Melin was ever out of power, whatever his nominal office. He was going to be dictator of the nation until the day he died.

President Melin now publicly denounced the Othmani coup as "a serious breach of the peace of the region and international treaties. As we in Macureus are now advancing toward a progressive socialist republic, it would appear that New Othman is regressing back in the direction of a theocracy, the very inhumanity which the people of Old Macureus removed from office despite the Shrailleeni support for superstition and fanaticism. Those of us secular, progressive nations must firmly commit ourselves to the cause of peace and justice."

[Exalted Draconia]

Everywhere the Draconians went, there were strict orders to maintain the peace and keep good fire discipline. The Draconian commanders were not very forgiving of infractions, either, as Corporal Demetrios Stylianos noted. Then again, this was nothing new. The Draconian idea of military discipline was like that of the Edomite army....on steroids. They took this shit very seriously. It was okay to fornicate and drink and such....but if you broke key ironclad rules, well, Gods help you. Fire discipline...following orders....behave honorably and honestly.....don't flee danger...and don't harm innocent women and children, or even male civilians....always revere the Gods.

And Corporal Andreas Bactrias had just committed the mother of all infractions.....he had confessed to it, too, after he woke up with blood all over his body....and his victim's. He had caught an Edomite woman with whom he was intimate of late in the arms of another man....a local, in fact. He had shot the man several times in a heat of jealous rage, then stabbed him in a wild rage, only to find out that he was her husband...the woman that he had so passionately loved was another man's wife...widow, now, in fact. He was a murderer as well as an adulterer. The latter could be forgiven. The former was a disgrace to his uniform and he knew it. She had fled to authorities and reported the crime, and now word had reached Stylianos's squad, which was ordered to take Bactrias into custody. Assuming that the local authorities turned him over, of course. He was held in the local holding cell by the City Militia, or so Stylianos had been told.

What would the family do? What would Bactrias's wife, as he only had one so far, but planned to take this one as a second, do? Their family was disgraced, simply he hadn't had the sense to let things go. His unit was disgraced, too. Whatever would any of them do, now? The Draconian CINC was livid, as was President Mantarakis. This sort of thing, at the worst possible moment, could dramatically damage the CPO's cause. It had to be handled carefully, and despite his rage at Bactrias, Stylianos would do his best to clean up this mess. All this pressure on a mere corporal...though he was assured if that he did this right, he would soon be Sergeant Stylianos. Unlike Bactrias, Stylianos still had a future, did he not?

And the future of the region was at stake, was it not? The future of New Edom and the CPO for sure.....

[New Edom]

The Battle for Harbourtown: Heshbon and Tyrannis

Tyrannis Naval Air Station

Soundtrack

Flames and smoke towered higher than buildings, spread dark ash and made the dawn dark around the embattled base. Sirens wailed and klaxons blared, and in the deafening explosions those nearby were flattened or even stunned and killed by the impact of battleship shells strike, cruise missiles hitting the ground and explosions sending fragments and fireballs into the sky.

Stretcher bearers and ambulances did their best to gather wounded, but were becoming overwhelmed by the constant attacks on the base, by three fleets and two Air Force bases north of their position.

Militia ground forces had begun to arrive to help; a field ambulance unit had set up in a civilian designated area--a school and administrative buildings--nearby, as the base hospital was entirely full now of wounded ground crewmen moaning and groaning in the hallways, blood pouring onto the floor here and there, burn victims screaming piteously.

More and more missiles were slipping through the anti-missile shield of the base; the Close in Weapon System overworked, the anti-missile SAMs were running out and the attacks on the base infrastructure had caused enough damage that the systems could not be reloaded fast enough.

In spite of all this, the base fought on; engineers spray painted roads and landing fields to conceal them from enemy overflights, satellite sweeps and UAVs, reinforced roads used as runways, and ground forces were being moved by trucks and on foot if need be away from the area.

Captain Arabella Ephraim only had a vague idea, based on experience and intelligence, of how things were going at sea. However she knew for certain how they were going on land. Elder Brother Bardo, commanding the militia units of the Southern Brigade, reported over the radio that their position facing Heshbon was being overrun, their reserves had been pounded to paste by enemy shelling, helicopters and artillery, and they were being outflanked by Marine Infantry now.

"All we can do," he hoarsely said, "Is hold them off perhaps for another half hour. By the time the reinforcements arrive from the city, it will be over."

"God bless you brother," she said.

"And you Captain." he hung up.

"It is my recommendation," said Captain Ephraim, holding back a choking of her voice, "That we must give up the base. Scuttle her. Confirm all data base into transportable drives, prepare to set charges for everything else, and begin evacuation, and move all planes, helicopters, drones that can be moved north to Teman. We must do a tactical retreat and save what we can of the Republic's air power."

Her staff stood or sat motionless in the CIC. She heard someone start to weep and then choke it off. "I will contact the Admiral myself and then if I am confirmed we will begin carrying out this operation which is coded Plan 36XY11."

She took a deep breath and made the call.

"Yes," said Admiral Button's voice.

She told him what she had told her staff. The Admiral was quiet a moment. "Are you sure? It seems we are holding off the Monarchist and Cacertian fleets..."

"Admiral, my air defense systems here are being overwhelmed; we cannot maintain control with cruise missiles coming in so fast from all sides. The only thing keeping us from total destruction is the confusino with the signals, but now the Imperium and Cacertians and the Monarchists are jamming us and tag teaming us. We can't keep it up. We can save some of our air power and fight another day or hold onto this real estate. I will remain if you order it, but this is my strongest recommendation."

Admiral Button said. "Just a moment."

Just a moment. No doubt had to talk to his superiors...

He came back on. "Captain?"

"Sir."

"I have just spoken to the President. You are instructed to abandon Tyrannis. May God be with you."

Her next contact was to the Commandant of Militia of Harbourtown. The reinfrocements were to help with the withdrawal and provide a screen for retreating ground operators and base staff. She closed her eyes a moment. Give up the ship. So be it.

"Operations," she said loudly and clearly, "All units will begin evacuation as per the operational orders I have detailed. Make it so at once."

"Aye aye, Captain," he said. He began to read out the orders to the different units in the appropriate stages and send the messages out. The CIC would depart soon; command and control would pass directly to the AWACS which would then plan its own withdrawal immediately, as it was still being hunted by the Monarchist Air Force somewhere above the clouds.

Regardless of what happened at sea and in the air off the coast now...it would really come down to how well her air units could disengage...

Theocratic Air Operations

Junior Lieutenant Simon Mass managed to land his plane at one of the emergency runways, and was moved away from it, badly shaken. A medic began to look him over. "We're going to move you out of here Lieutenant," she informed him. "We're evacuating the base."

He looked over at his plane, which was smoking here and there, and at the ground crew hosing her down and checking her out, and muttered, "Shit. Well...the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away..."

Meanwhile, Adder-2 had been sighted by four MiGs and was being hotly pursued. The pilot, Lieutenant Jonah Militiades (who preferred to go by the nickname "Fish" rather than the unlucky name he had been given) dispensed his countermeasures to try to avoid the missile and rolled swiftly out of the way timing the attack to do his escape and evade, but another missile struck at him very quickly after, and damage exploded towards the rear of his plane damaging part of the wing as well; sparks and smoke flying around it, he sped at his greater speed towards home but realized his plane was too badly damaged to control, and in danger of spinning and blacking out, he desperately timed his ejection and exploded out of the plane, which later crashed into the sea five klicks from Harbourtown itself.

Adder 3 and 4 meanwhile kept quiet; they had done their work and had dispersed; the recall had come and apparently the base was being abandoned; it was time to flee altogether. They each had enough fuel to make it to an emergency fuel stop in the air North of Harbourtown, and then to Nass. They moved low towards the sea to evade the enemy fleet and tried to avoid being in contact with the enemy any further.

Admiral Hanneghan reported to Rothbaard that General Romain had advised them to keep the heat on Tyrannis and requested that they replace Task Force Boa entirely in covering for the Cacertians, and to watch out for small craft attacks and drone attacks. They were advised that the forces attacking out of Heshbon were successfully flanking the rebel units south of Harbourotwn, and that the attack on the Naval Air Station had apparently been successful according to drone and Rover Team observers. The base would either have to withdraw and there fore be useless to the rebels or would be overrun by New Edomite Marine Infantry within the next hour or so.

The Ghantish

Soundtrack

The Ghantish swarmed into the trenches barely impeded now; behind them they could see the wreckage of the ETC encampment; buildings burning and smoldering; bodies lying everywhere, wrecked vehicles smoking and burned, black smoke pouring acrid and choking from them.

Within the trenches themselves, the wounded or surrendering ETC militiamen generally did lay dead where instructed to, some even pulling bodies over themselves and lying still and praying. Those who did try to fight back often got in a few lucky shots but were overwhelmed like the machinegunner and assistant gunner who were ultimately shot down where they fought.

The dark bunker that was rushed into in one case resulted in a Ghantish soldier tripping over a flare--depending on how many rushed after him at least he and some others would get a body full of explosive fired ball bearings like having a shotgun blast on either side from the mine that had been hastily set by a combat engineer; the last stand of a field HQ with the command personnel grimly and fanatically firing after, one throwing a grenade out into the trench; they had thrown their staff tables and sandbags down to make the little room a sort of fortress. "For the Prophet!" screamed the Company commander, the others gutterally screaming defiance as they opened fire through the narrow door in the wake of the mine and then the grenade's explosion.


One bunker area was shocked by the sudden change of firing. A young woman holding a radio headset to her ear was speaking into it, tension taut in her voice and in the cords of her throat when the more mature woman who led the signals out fit put a hand on her shoulder. "Listen...something's wrong!" she exclaimed, and suddenly Ghantish soldiers, bloody, stinking of violence and cordite burst in with rifles aimed at them. They faced a room full of wooden shelving for radio and signals equipment, and several naked women, only wearing sandals and some wearing combat webbing or belts, most of them younger, with short dark or brown hair, tanned fair to olive skin were sitting or standing; one, standing a woman perhaps approaching thirty with her hair in a short ponytail under a helmet grabbed for a pistol in a holster.

Another bunker yielded a tunnel used as a field hospital; wounded lay coughing and moaning; naked young to old women and old men wearing blood spattered aprons and caps moved among them. One, an old but strong looking man, held up his hands pointing to the red cross on his apron and cap. "We are medics! Don't shoot, we have dozens of wounded here!"

Meanwhile, near the helicopter, the pilot breathed, "Thank God, you must come. Most of the crew are dead, but the Lieutenant-Colonel is alive, but pinned down. I am worried about moving her and damaging her leg, it may not be bad but..." he spoke thickly, and had blood soaking his chin and the front of his uniform, and seemed rather groggy.

Inside, Sarah Wendt was pinned by a man who had been pierced by a broken strut of the helicopter. She laughed a bit. "Lord Alaric Dain. Fancy running into you like this..."

The 9th Marines

Soundtrack

The ETC Militia force consisted of B Company of the 70th Infantry Regiment of the Southern Infantry Brigade, as well as detachments from other units. The local commander was 34-year-old Elder Brother Commander Peter Salvation, the second-in-command of the 70th. The 70th Infantry Regiment, reinforced by two Mechanized Marine Infantry platoons, and held an area of rail junctions, outlying small farming communities from the city which largely were devoted to milling and slaughterhouses. The militia joked grimly about the appropriateness of their positions.

This forces were not raw conscripts or armed zealots, but recalled reservists with at least a year of training, and these soldiers were not going to abandon their positions easily and several were prepared to hold their ground. They possessed AK-94 rifles the same as their Marine Infantry opponents, RPK light machine guns and PAMS sub-machine guns as well as 82mm mortars and 75mm recoiless rifles.

Until recently their greatest complaint was the poor rations they received, which irritated them as they knew that perfectly decent food was to be had at the farms which they were not permitted to visit. This was because the local farms were largely owned by local Baptist communities, and there had been incidents involving the fact that New Edomite Baptists practiced a dispensation for wearing clothing. Some soldiers, following a rally, had mocked a group of male students leaving a local seminary and ordered them to strip to show their patriotism. The local farm families were integral to the feeding of the population of Harbourtown and apologies had to be issued, which struck the soldiers as being hypocrtical.

Now however none of the local civilians were in sight; they were all hiding or had begun to flee, though since the fighting began before dawn this largely caused confusion.

Captain Shadrach Shobal, commanding D Company of the 9th Marine Infantry, sent out a patrol to scout out the ETC positions near the villages. The ETC were keeping their heads low and had a screen of sentries. Shobal decided to do a typical Edomite infantry tactic; hit the enemy rear area with artillery, hit the front with direct assault fire and while they were pinned down advance using smoke and cover to rush forward. It was nearly full daylight at this point but the smoke haze from Tyrannis and the morning mists and fogs as well as smoke fired from the armoured vehicles would be used to cover their approach.

Within a short space of time an ETC sentry reported moving figures down near the bridge. D Company of the Monarchist Marines opened up and a confused firefight developed in the darkness, with small arms, machinegun, rockets and rocket propelled grenades being exchanged. The ETC patrol unitwas very aggressive and in the counterattack Captain Shobal's M20 Hamsher Command APC was damaged including the aerials which hindered their signals and information capability. Lieutenant Kiron was ordered to fall back and make sure of connection to the unit's UAV to maintain contact, and they requested heavy shelling of the enemy position. In the meantime the UAV spotted the arrival of the reinforcements from Harbourtown moving in convoys from the city limits about 2 klicks away.

Kiron began changing the artillery orders; he requested that the Regimental mortar company begin to fire on the enemy infantry position immediately before them, while re-routing the Regiment's assigned self propelled howitzers and ASTROS II rockets to attack the enemy convoy. He cursed discovering from the UAV a minute later that the convoys had quickly deployed their infantry and they were already dispersing from the vehicles.

"Listen," he told Shobal,"I think we're going to have another thousand ETC on us in a few minutes, those other companies had better haul ass."