Regression of progression [IC/PMT]

[Crysuko]

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=388874&p=29896920#p29896920

Krastin House, Crystin-Minokos

Kadahan Malell was not a happy man. He sat at his desk, a dozen newspapers proclaiming the atrocity shouting bloody murder at him. He had flicked through various TV and radio channels to find the same thing, and he didn't have enough insults to throw at Sangh and Capsen. Already he was inundated with various communiques and meetings from various overseas powers, all of which he would have to politely attend and take denunciation of Dumb and Dumber's dumb decision. Frankly, it was a miracle that nobody had declared war but quite franky with the luck he was having, that would soon change.

Malell looked around, closing the door to his office and turning on the window shade. He reached into his desk cabinet, taking a bottle of whiskey out "to hell with this" he said, flipping the lid off "to hell with this all!" he cursed, taking a swig, slouching in his chair.

In the mean time, there was numerous demonstrations up and down the country, with just as many supporting the government actions as opposing them, and there were rumours that militia from either side had taken potshots at each other. But time would only tell if the international community would take aggressive action...

[Korivala]

The Imperial Commander Konrad XII was sitting in his office with two of his Imperial Guards when a message came through on his computer, the message spoke of the current rebellion against the Communist State of Crysukon. Upon seeing the message Konrad feels great excitement at the idea of turning the rebels Fascist and also destroying the Red Scourge. Konrad XII hastily steps out of his office, as he walks out of the officer various government officials walking through the Capital building salute him and give a loud "Heil!". He eventually makes it into the office of Imperial General Jakovik VII of the 5th Imperial Korivalan army. He enters the room and the two guards by the doors salute him and yell "Heil!" Konrad salutes them back and faces the general, general Jakovik VII salutes Konrad, "Heil Imperial Commander! what do you need of me today?"

"Have you heard the news of the ongoing coup in Crysukon?" said Imperial Commander Konrad XII.

"no, sir what is happening over their?"

"Tons of liberal citizens have rebelled against their communist dictator, and we will give them that freedom and crush the communists."

"hmmm.... very interesting, reminds me of the Voristan war of 08'."

"very similar circumstances general, and i'll have you make a similar move to what we did then."

"Moblize your army and head to Crysukon, aid the rebels and see that they are successful in their coup. I will be sending Hans Zhuring, Korivala's greatest diplomat with you, he will be influencing the rebels to become Fascist. You must keep Hans very well protected so that he can complete his part in this war, his part is just as important as yours general "

The old general has a look of frustration on his face "Heil!" Jakovik leaves the office to begin Mobolizing his Expitionary force to aid the rebels.


Hans Zhuring looks to Imperial Commander Konrad XII and salutes him "Heil!" he exits the room, and walks down the highly decorated hallways of the Imperial Capital building. He walks to the giant military base located directly behind the capital building. As Hans walks to the front gates of the military base he notices how busy it is, hundreds of soldiers and trucks going in and out of the base, they appear to be mobilizing.

"Who are you!" Comes from a speaker out front of the gate.

Hans shows his ID to the camera and a side door next to the gate opens, Hans enters through the door into the interior of the military base. The interior of the massive base is bustling with life. Thousands of Korivalan soldiers busily running around and carrying crates of weapons, ammo, and rations. Hans looks forward and sees a massive banner hanging from the roof with the glorious Korivalan eagle hanging from it. He begins to feel immense pride in his nation, after looking and admiring the military bade for a few more minutes he continued to walk. As he was walking through the brightly lit Military base that was filled with soldiers, vehicles and supplies, a soldier bumped into him. The soldiers eyes filled with fear "Hei!, forgive me for that I didn't mean to bump into you sir!"

Hans studied the soldier, and then saluted him "Korivala is proud of you for serving in the army, and Konrad is proud of you. You are forgiven, carry on."

The soldier saluted him and started to quickly walk to wherever he was going. Hans walked up a set of rusty metal stairs onto the second level of the military base, which was the administrative area. This area appeared to look just like a typical government office building. Hans entered the Office of Imperial Transportation. "I need the fastest flight to Crysukon. On the command of Imperial Commander Konrad XII."

The worker at the office looked at him and studied him, " Oh yes Hans, your flight leaves in 15 minutes, glory to you, glory to Korivala."


General Jakovik Was inside the same military base Hans was. The old general Jakovik was standing on a platform observing the Imperial 5th Korivalan army mobilize, as he was up on the platform monitoring them he was also yelling furious commands to them and dictating their every move, his army has 50,000 soldiers in it and each one of them respected him, Jakovik was a highly decorated general for his service in past wars. His overcoat has over 15 medals hanging from it proudly. He pulled his hat down lower and said "Soldiers! we leave for Crysukon in 25 minutes, speed it up!"

The soldiers stopped their tasks for a moment and saluted the general "Heil!" came from the soldiers in the military base. Immidiatly after paying their respects to their general they continued their mobilization process.


Heinreich Vladystov a corporal in the 5th Imperial Korivalan Army woke up early this morning and immediately headed to the Imperial Capital's Korvasa military base. He went into the barracks of the base and ran to the locker room area. He took off his Street military outfit and began to put on the combat outfit. He lifted up the weighty Kevlar vest and put it on himself, tightening it to him. He put on his boots and pants, then he grabbed his long black overcoat and put it on. He then took his Stahl helm and put it on as well. He began to walk out of the barracks but he stopped, he was forgetting something. "Oh! My armband" he laughed to himself. "The general would be furious if I forgot it!" he smiled and put on his Korivalan armband. He exited the barracks and joined the massive 5th Imperial army in mobilizing.

[Crysuko]

Kadahan Malell's office

an intern knocked on the door before coming in to find a dischevelled and ragged looking Malell. "whaddya want?" he slurred, his head planted firmly on the desk. "S-sir, there's an..er....important development" he said, settign a piece of paper down "the capitalist holdouts are on the march and intelligence suggests that there may be outside involvement".

Kadahan looked up, his face ragged "alright...alright, I'll get to the infirmary to sober up...take this information to Sangh, the army needs to know as well". The intern nodded and scurried away. Kadahan sighed and picked up his phone, dialing Sangh's number.

"Sangh? it's Malell, in about a minuite you're going to get an intern telling you that the capitalist holdouts and making trouble. I'd get the army going if I were you" he said, trying to hide his rough voice
"alright, but defensive positions only. We can't be seen as the aggressors".

Within the hour, the army was deploying from it's garrisons, taking up positions around cities and settlements along with trouble areas which holdout forces had taken. Now it was a waiting game, who would strike first?

[The Macabees]

Somewhere, Crysuko

It had been a while since the Golden Throne had paid attention to countries like Crysuko. Not that they were unworthy, but the Empire had larger concerns these days. With the colossal invasion of the Scandinvan Empire underway and the struggle of defending North Panooly from fascist invasion, there were simply too many fledgling anti-communist organizations to support them all. And of course the Empire had already involved itself in too many local low intensity efforts, and its efforts were already lagging in Nicaro and they had blown up in the Red Star Union. Add to these the ongoing anti-insurgency efforts in Indras and Zarbia, and you had yourself a very, very busy foreign policy. Of course, all of this only scratched the surface. Still, there was something intriguing about Crysuko.

That the Empire had no intention of actively involving itself in out-of-region anti-communism did not mean that it did not deploy agents to track the progress of these movements. Maybe it was the possibility of opening new markets in undiscovered foreign worlds. Or perhaps it was the timely interest of Korivala and the experiences with fascism in Red Star Union. Whatever the case, Crysuko would prove to be the exception to the until now non-interventionist policy.

[A Nakíl 1A1GU+ model]

Already, a large convoy of cargo ships, escorted by a single raid eskúadra (fourteen battlecruisers and eight cruisers), had left port from Cruzau, Indras several weeks earlier. The convoy carried advanced weapons destined to be deployed and used by the capitalist rebels in the country. These included over one hundred thousand Hali-53 assault rifles, an abundant stock of the prerequisite 6.64mm ammunition, tens of thousands of DNR-13 recoiless rifles, and even a company's worth (14) of surplus Nakíl 1A1GU+s. These were few in numbers, but they would serve to start training crew men to support a larger armored force. It was a hefty aid package, and of course it include a broad host of other small arms, grenades, and artillery munitions.

It was considered to donate two trainer aircraft, but without safe air space training would be too difficult (and dangerous). Instead, the convoy would take back any rebels selected for a short training program in the Empire itself. If the rebels survived long enough, maybe they'd even get a few combat aircraft one day.

With this convoy were arriving two companies of Koro Kirim, or just under two hundred Macabean special forces belonging to the Ejermacht [ground forces] branch. It was a considerable deployment for an Empire that had restricted itself to only regional affairs, but given the investment the Empire was making in Crysuko's anti-communist rebels they were deemed necessary to provide proper training in weapon use and tactics. About half of the Koro Kirim force would be used to that end, and the other half would focus on securing, and then holding and protecting — by means of training a well-trained, elite local security detachment that could hold the area — what the Golden Throne planned to be a future GATA-compliant airfield. That is, it would be equipped to handle the larger and faster orbital transports and freighters. Its completion would allow the Macabeans to bring in more weapons, more quickly, and more often. With enough material support, perhaps the rebels had a chance for success.

Agent Rikjard Contrado was embedded with the capitalist rebels in-theater, there to coordinate Macabean support efforts with them. His employers, Agén Enkubíer [a Macabean intelligence agency], had also tasked him with the onboarding of the incoming operatives. He'd have to introduce them to all the important rebel commanders and debrief them further on the situation. It sounded thrilling, but it really wasn't. It was a lot of paperwork, that's what it was. He missed the good 'ol days, where it was him, still with no friends, trying to find an ally in the Crysukian powder keg. Now the only excitement came from the occasional government raid or the random artillery strike.

He threw a tennis ball against the wall while he whistled, his legs propped up on his cheap, metal desk. The ball rattled off the metallic walls, made out of scrap sheets that were welded — sometimes bolted, sometimes only tied — together.

The office was small and shitty. The door was another junkyard piece that the locals had used to build him this little abode. Yes, he slept there. He cooked there. He did everything there, except go to the bathroom, because he had to do that at the communal latrines about a hundred meters away from his front door. Sometimes, when the winds were just right, the smell of poop wafted into his tiny room — he'd called it a "loft" when he talked to the folks back home.

He hadn't talked to his folks, or his wife, in several months now. They didn't even know he was here, given that the deployment was still highly confidential. It was all in all a pretty crappy situation, which that damned latrine made much too literal. But one must do what he can with the cards he is dealt. And so, to take his minds off how terrible his job really was, Rikjard kept playing with his tennis ball and ignored the computer screen on his desk, which had just turned dark and gone to sleep from neglect. Then, out of the blue, the phone rang. It was one of those old ones, with the atrocious ring that could drive a sane man to insanity if he heard it enough.

Still, Rikjard's hand darted for the phone. Finally, something to do maybe. He picked up the phone and almost as soon as it was to his hear, he answered, "Yea? Contrado here."

"Contrado, how ya doin' buddy?" It was his 'direct supervisor' who made sure Rikjard was doing his job. A.k.a. "the boss." He was never actually interested in how Rikjard was doing, so he'd usually just keep talking past that question. And he stuck to his m.o. here as he always did. "Anyways, you ready to the onboarding? That convoy is only a couple weeks away, y'know. Don't put that shit off. You know how that always ends up biting ya in the ass."

"Don't you worry, boss, I got it," he reassured.

"I sure hope so, kid." There was a warning in his tone. "Anyways, you only got a month and a half left over there, so do your job and that time will fly by. Maybe you'll get to see your wife then, huh. She's doing good, I stopped by the other day to see how she was doin'. I told her that you're doing well and that you'll be back home soon. She's excited to see you, Contrado."

He went to go see the wife? "I'm sure she is, sir. But, with all due respect, you leave my wife at peace with that shit. She knows what I do for a living. She'll manage, as she always has."

"Maybe, but she hasn't seen you in a while and women get worried, you know how they are. My wife is the same, you know that." That bastard's fat wife didn't give a flying s--- about him. Before Rikjaard to fire something back, the boss just kept talking, "Regardless, I just called to check in and see how everything was doing. I see you're doing good. Keep up the good work Contrado, and make sure that the ops get a seamless in-theater transition." Click. The guy didn't even wait for Rikjaard to even add a "yes, sir" to that conversation. The guy was an a-hole.

The call served to put his mind back on track, at least. As soon as he dropped the phone back on the stand he moved his computer mouse and the computer screen came back on. There was a half-completed spreadsheet of local contacts of his. He got back to working on that. When his replacement came, he wanted to be sure that at least this spreadsheet be in good order, that way he could expedite getting the hell out of there.

[Crysuko]

In the valleys and mesas of the east crysukon state of Finaxi lay a town built into a valley, home to around 50,000 people. Here stands one of the Crysukon Democratics Holdouts (CDH), a remnant of towns, military bases and other facilities likes mines and farms which refused to submit to communist rule after the civil war ended. Normally, they were held by little more than militia that were in constant danger of beng found and attacked by government forces. Being scattered all over the country made organised effort and pushing supplies difficult, but with the order 35 incident, more people had been moving to their side. Already, many other not insignificant civilian populaces had secretly stopped answering to the government. And with supplies and surplus being smuggled in from the outside, the CDH declared to all it's members upon more regular infantry becoming available to due disloyal army units training the volunteers into a more organised fighting force that they would call themselves the Federal Republic of Crysuko. Most strinkingly of all was the city of Hekto, which had contained a population low key sympathetic to democracy for years, even in the councils. With the crisis looming, the city along with much of it's surrounding territory threw their lot in with the rebels.

Situation map, showing FERC holdings in central Crysuko:

Spread like a pox across the central nation, the previously dismal transport routes that had been used before came under their control which FERC forces didn't hesitate to use, using propoganda heavily to sway many onto their side, long stretches of highway and railroad both on the ground and beneath it. But an issue remained of the city of Kastophsis managed to sway most of the region under their control, but the neighboring region was not so easily swayed with just as many people believing the government's story as the rebel's.

One of the most notable was the island of Aoka which had good industrial base, which was put to work manufacturing weapons and supplies at once. The warehouses full of goods were also exploited.

The die was cast, and only time would tell just which side would make the first move. The government who wanted to restore order? or the FERC rebels who had everything to fight for?

[The Macabees]

East of Kastophsis, Crysuko

The rebellion in Crysuko was heating up, and territories were starting to get marked. With the Macabean supply convoy still some time away, it was determined to fly in some temps to complete the prep-work for the convoy's arrival.

It was the Agén Enkubíer who approached Orange-Stoner, in Tarn. Since the decline of Tarn Defense Solutions, Orange-Stoner had turned into one of the largest private defense agencies in the city and it services had grown to encompass the entire range of combat services. And so when the Golden Throne's intelligence agency came looking for a small team of consultants to help build the new training program n the Kastophsis area of Crysuko, Orange-Stoner of course acceded.

Two hundred infantry personnel were quietly transported to Costamallor, in Levante — a coastal territory south of the Empire's mainland. These were launched into orbit, along the standard movement of troops back-and-forth from orbital platforms. Sent to a small ship in space, the two hundred men were loaded into two 'tuna canisters,' which were tightly-packed containers that could be jettisoned from the plane. Unarmored, the men inside were not meant to enter Earth's atmosphere in those canisters, and so each canister broke apart into smaller pods. These entered the atmosphere and steadily accelerated, and from within burst the two hundred soldiers once they were at the right altitude. The two hundred men landed in sticks in rebel-controlled territory east of Kastophsis and then began the long march to rendezvous just outside the city, where Agent Rikjard Contrado waited for them.

Thus, what ought to have been a several-week deployment trip at a minimum had been constrained to three or four days.

At the rebel base he was attached at, Contrado was a happy man. Indeed, for the past week he had been doing a lot of paperwork, and it had started to get rather tedious. The arrival of the Orange-Stoner operatives offered him a chance to get out of the office, and its stench of shit, for a little while at least. And so without as much as a second thought he took his jacket, grabbed his key and his gun, and took a locally procured pickup truck to the rendezvous point.

Leaving the local CDH base proved easier than one might think. Contrado had an Agén Enkubíer badge that all he had to do was wave to get through the various blockades and checkpoints set up along the nearby roads. It took him about forty minutes to reach the rendezvous point, which was a broad mesa that oversaw the city of Kastophsis. Towards its eastern end it sloped down to sea level, where its western edge was jagged cliff. It would have made a good defensive point for the city during an era long gone, but now its dry pastures were valued perhaps only by the hordes of goats that fed there. It would soon have a new use, though, for that was the land parcel that Contrado had scoped out for the first training camp.

Contrado surveyed the city below. His right hand, as usual, was loosely wrapped around the grip of his handgun, which sat snugly in its holster. There was a lot of history between that pistol and he. A Hol-24 model, it had been issued to him upon completion of entrance training into the agency. It was made for 9mm parabellum, a common round that even Contrado wished was just a little bit more lethal. Regardless, the Hol-24 had done him right throughout the years. It was thanks to that handgun that he had survived the Cabezamesada Shootout of 2021. It took three lives that night too, not to mention saving Contrado's. And in the 2024 Tlaloc Raid, it saved his life again when his Hali-21 jammed in the middle of a gunfight. Two magazines and thirty-two rounds later, four buccaneers lay dead against a wall. Yea, quite the history, and for that reason his hand never left its grip.

Kastophsis was an important city, but more importantly it guarded the approaches to perhaps one of the most defensible rebel holdings in the country. South of it lay Bastonaxi and to the east sprawled Tanninstel, which made two significant targets — helping the rebels take them could consolidate the rebellion. Contrado studied the approaches to Kastaphsis, wondering if he'd see action like he saw those days in western Zarbia and pirate-held eastern Theohuanacu.

He turned around to stare down the gently sloping mesa. There, near the bottom, the first group of operatives slowly climbed towards him.

The Orange-Stoner mercenaries looked like an intimidating bunch. There were twenty-five of them, all dressed in their heavy battle armor. Unlike the power armor used by the Golden Throne's Ejermacht, their suits were built to stop even small caliber armor-piercing bullets. Accustomed to the rougher battlefields, for them it was essential to survive even the most advanced of enemies. The suits were bulkier and carried ceramic plates encased in titanium and backed by steel. Even the powerpacks were better protected than in most other suits. But, it also made them slower and less agile. They were a ferocious and fearsome bunch nonetheless.

Slowly, they lumbered up the hill until they had come up to the edge of the mesa, where Contrado stood. Aviator sunglasses on, his jaw twisting as he chewed on a piece of gun, he propped his foot on a large rock. One of the operatives must have pushed a button or something, because the glass epoxy visor that hid his eyes from view retracted back into his helmet.

"Agent RIkjard Contrado," he greeted.

"What's up, Contrado. I'd say it's good to see you, but I'm kind of sad that it's all over," replied the Orange-Stoner platoon leader. As he pointed up towards the sky, his suit made subtle servo noises that would have been inaudible had there been any other sounds other than the shuffling of the fully armored men and the exchange of bleats by the nearby sheep. "Never done anything like that before. It was pretty cool."

Contrado's eyes shifted up. He knew they'd been dropped in from space, but he never really put much thought into how exactly that was done. He shrugged, "I bet it was. Anyways," he sighed, "you're in Crysuko now, so let's put you to work."

"Aye." The platoon leader nodded towards his men, and they too opened their visors to reveal their faces. "What do you want us to do, boss?"

'Boss.' That was something he hadn't been called in a long, long time. "Yea," he said, "have two of your men set up shop here and direct any newcomers to a camp just outside the city. The first round can just have them settle here if any come, and second watch can direct them to their barracks. The rest of you..." he looked towards his truck. That'd only fit him and maybe a couple of others...and he'd be lucky if the back could handle the combined weight of their suits. "The rest of you will have to meet me there." He pointed towards a collection of tents below, arrayed just outside an eastern suburb of Kastophsis.

"Great," said the Orange-Stoner man, backed by a few groans coming from his men. "You couldn't get us a cattle truck?"

"Welcome to Crysuko, soldier. Here, we do everything on a budget." Contrado smiled and walked over to his truck. He shut the driver's side door, turned the ignition key to start the engine, and then drove down the narrow cart road, around the outcrop, and towards the city. As it drove away his truck left behind a tall dust cloud that forced the mercenaries to lower their visors again.

The platoon leader turned to his men. "Well, shit," he said through the comm.

[Crysuko]

What made Kastophsis so important was it's mining base, with numerous mines providing diamonds and gems, combined with huge warehouses full of refined precious stones and metals and the local port, the city would be instrumental in funding the rebellion. General Mastern Dason knew this, and he commanded 180,000 troops to retake the city.

He and his forces were approaching from the south, but would have to march through the valles and mesas in order to get to the city nestled securely in the middle of it all. Although it may seem illogical to build a city in such a place, the geological activity had stirred numerous precious stones and metals to the near surface, and massive strip and pit mines made full advantage of this wealth. They had done for the past century and could easily do it for 100 years more if they paced themselves.

With the rebellion happening, they were nothing if not eager to sell their product. Already, severals very lucrative deals had been struck with clients around the world. "this will be easy" said Dason to one of his aides "it's a fairly safe bet that they won't have much in the way of heavy equipment, or long term supplies. They can push their supply lines through the port, but one decent push of mechanised infantry with armor and drone support will end this madness in short order" he added, as a wing of Iasden dones flew low overhead.

The useful thing about these drones was they also made useful forward scouts. The day was clear with not a cloud in the sky, allowing several formations of them to fly ahead and make preliminary strikes. And that's precisely what they did, as deadly accurate laser strikes hit several bunkers, trenches and other fortified positions. The main force was at least 24 hours out, but continuous harrasment with drone strikes would ensure that rebel positions wouldn't be as strong as they could be.

Current situation map below:

Rebel holdings had signficantly expanded as numerous recruitment drives numerous smaller settlements and personnel over to their side, but Dason's attack towards Kastophsis was yet to be met, and with other loyalist armies being deployed from Hycracity, Senerra and Danuun to push away rebel forces. Danuun having heavy shipbuilding facilities and Senerra having Aportik launch facility.

A facility with nuclear and other warheads on site.

[The Macabees]

Battle of Kastophsis

There was much for Rikjard Contrado to do after the arrival of the two hundred Orange-Stoner operatives, but the first few days were comparatively calm to what came next. It didn't take long for government forces to set their sights on the city of Kastophsis, which benefited from its strategic position and its apparent industrial wealth. Intelligence, including satellite imagery from Imperial satellites provided via backdoors to Contrado and the contractors, suggested an army of almost two hundred thousand government soldiers was advancing on the city. A force of that size could only intend to take Kastophsis, and all of a sudden Contrado found himself almost constantly on the road to introduce the contractors with the rebel forces they would help to train. They'd need to organize an effective enough defense to at least slow the advance and avoid a complete loss of the city.

Two hundred men alone weren't going to make much of a dent on the attacking force, but then again their intention wasn't exactly to fight the war for the rebels. Rather, the Orange-Stoner operatives dispersed themselves amongst the separate rebel camps, operating in small squads to help provide flash training to defending forces. Most of this training revolved around guerilla tactics, including preparing and executing ambushes and traps. Even with this help, the rebels were bound to lose against disciplined government forces if they tried to fight the battle man-to-man. And so the mercenaries taught them a different way of waging war.

The closer the enemy got to Kastophsis the more improvised explosive devices they'd encounter. Anti-personnel and anti-tank IEDs were buried underneath, or alongside, roads in strategic locations, with small groups of rebel militants hidden in their vicinity to initiate ambushes and counter-attacks against local forces. These IEDs were joined by military-grade mines captured from rebel-held military bases or purchased via black markets; the mines were used to help force government forces into specific routes of attack which had been prepared as ambush sites. Battalion-sized rebel units, armed with rocket-propelled grenades, assault rifles, and cheap mortars, were organized in such a way that allowed them to quickly attack or to melt away if threatened by a superior force. In this way, the rebels could help minimize casualties and conserve strength, while exacting high casualties on the enemy, in preparation for the inevitable street battles that would take place once government forces had entered the city.

Apart from explosives and mines, the government's army would also find plenty of obstacles to clear or bypass. Large highways and roads alike were blocked by layers of barbed wire and adjoined felled trees organized into thick stacks oftentimes three layers tall and twelve layers deep. When there wasn't enough time, or resources, for these kind of obstacles, more rudimentary tactics were adopted, including something as simple as a wall of burning rubber tires.

These different tactics were used to slow the enemy, using those opportunities to strike at them with force. The ambushing elements would quickly converge on the site, applying overwhelming firepower to pin the enemy against their vehicles while light mortars struck those positions. These attacks could be fairly sophisticated, with blocking forces used to tie up large enemy formations while ambushes concentrated on smaller enemy elements that could be surprised and temporarily overpowered. Even if the attacks weren't successful at repulsing the offensive, they could at least whittle enemy forces down.

By cultivating a network of sympathizers in the villages, towns, and smaller cities leading to Kastophsis, the rebels were able to more-or-less closely track the enemy's advance. The Golden Throne's intelligence services aided where they could as well, but given the country's neutrality this source of information was largely elusive and not yet adequately available to fully count on. The operatives worked to bridge this lacuna by helping their rebel hosts improve the amount and quality of intelligence they were getting from local communities. Not only did this information help improve the planning of ambushes, defensive sites, and tactical counter-attacks, but they also aided in pinpointing routes of escape and movement so that rebel forces could easily transition in whatever direction they needed to go to meet the enemy where it was most advantageous for the ambushing forces to do so. Finally, the same informants were told to feed false information to the enemy, reporting rebel forces that either didn't exist or were located elsewhere to further help confuse the government's army and to blunt their offensive.

Of course, there was only so much the Orange-Stoner contractors could do in the scarce time they had to prepare for the attack. Rebel units, at this point in time, would still lack some of the discipline needed to seamlessly pull off the tactics they had been taught. This would result in more casualties and a less effective resistance, but nevertheless the rebels were better off with the help than they were without it and they applied it diligently as they awaited the government's army in the city. Likewise, while the new, more advance ordnance had not yet arrived from the Golden Throne, the rebels made due with what they had and the operatives duly intructed them on how to best make use of these available weapons.

There was a little bit more time to prepare for the defense of Kastophsis proper. Street routes were heavily blockaded to, again, force attacking forces towards certain pathways. Local inhabitants were recruited into work squads that would soon double as defense squads. Armed with nothing but shovels and other tools at first, these civilian forces were used to prepare the city by constructing ad hoc streetcorner fortifications with sandbags and cement blocks. Important administrative buildings were boarded up and garrisoned with small forces. Most buildings were prepared with routes of escape, with holes blown into walls and defensive sites integrated with the sewer system, which had been transformed into a sort of transportation system for rebel fighters that needed to move between hot zones. As soon as the enemy neared, the same work squads would be armed and used as a reserve to reinforce Orange-Stoner trained militants. Those that refused the call to aid were persecuted by death squads, and the rebels were not shy in spreading opportunistic propaganda that demonized not only the government, but also those evil enough to support their tyranny.

The city's history of mining was also exploited. Mine workers were recruited to direct sapping operations, with teams of civilian workers digging beneath homes and streets to prepare explosives that could cave-in large sections of road or urban areas. These were used to destroy large groups of government forces or to block routes of advance, or oftentimes simply as a measure of last resort when the fighting in a particular neighborhood or outlying suburb turned south. It was a brutal tactic, but these days all ideas were fair game. There was only one end, which was to stop the enemy, and all and any means were welcomed.

Farther away, perhaps several hundred kilometers to the northeast, work started on a large airstrip that could accommodate orbital cargo crafts that needed longer runways to land. While this would come too late to influence the beginning of the battle, if Kastophsis could be held for some time then this airstrip could eventually allow the faster import of weapons. A large fleet was arriving with plenty of small arms, anti-tank weapons, and even a handful of tanks, but if the Golden Throne was going to support the rebel forces then they needed a way to get aid to them faster and more effectively than by ship. Orbital transport routes were the answer; the rebels just needed the local infrastructure to support it, and that's what they were putting together thanks to the expertise provided to them by the Tarn contractors.

There was something else in the air, as well, although details were kept heavily under wraps by the mercenary forces. Kastophsis would fall if the rebels didn't find a way of shifting the government's attention away from the city. Furthermore, the rebellion itself would stall if they didn't make use of their initial momentum to exact a costly loss on the enemy. Secretely, the small Orange-Stoner force began to assemble a brigade-sized light infantry force made up of the best rebel fighters they could recruit. For the next few weeks they would be training for amphibious operations, with the intention of sending them off to their baptism of fire not too far into the upcoming month. Their target was only known to a few, but if successful it would threaten the rear of government forces attacking Kastophsis and it could perhaps be what was needed to regain the initiative in the war.

[Crysuko]

Southern front, battle of Kastophsis

The advance towards the city had been a difficult one. The towns and villages south of the city as well as the various passes and bridges had been laden with traps, ambushes, mines and various other trickery which slowed the attack to a near crawl. But with superior force and discipline, they found their way to the southern pass to the city.

"Alright, the plan is a relatively simple one. The southern approach to the city has two main roads leading into it which will no doubt be heavily defended. How we break through is park a line of Meulan drones on this ridge here, and have them provide direct fire support, supported by IFVs and Kashesmell drones do help get through the fortified positions. There is no doubt a great deal of defenders, determined ones no less. But we outnumber and outgun them, once the southern pass is taken, the rest of the city will be a simple job to take. Dismissed!"

On the ridge facing one of the southern highways leading into the city, a line of the duel gun drones lines up, already taking calculated shots towards fortified positions, the raised and irregular ground giving them cover against return fire. Meanwhile, the main force began their advance towards the barricades.

"Sir! we've reached the main line, but we're taking casualties! enemy forces have the high ground and their isn't much cover out here! requesting mortar support on the double!" many of the forces advancing were pinned down, and the mortar teams were hurrying to set up, but finding a decent position while under fire and being shouted at by a dozen officers and soldiers wasn't making it an easy task.

A line of tanks pushed forward, blowing apart a tire barricade...but also signalling the underminers to blow apart the road below them, putting several armoured units stranded and disabled. In spite of the many setbacks, more forces poured on, engineers setting up their own cover. The barricades and makeshift cover were starting to break down and Dason wasn't anywhere close to calling a retreat. Many of the attacking soldiers were the sons of the ones who fought so ferociously for the Communist side, and saw their duty as a sacred one. Defence of a bastion against capitalism.

The battle was already a bloodbath, the ambushes, traps and undermining forcing the attackers down a few narrow lanes. But the fire theu were laying down was surpressing the defending forces effectively, and despite the lack of armour support getting through, the long range drone fire was proving to be highly effective, despite several of them being knocked out by counter-battery fire.

Meanwhile, south of Senerra, the garrison forces were preparing for their own defence. The Aportik facility was directly in the line of fire and command knew it.

[EsToVnIa]

2 October, 2016 - 13:30 hrs [ST+3]
Karsea, Alemannic Social Democratic People's Republic
Headquarters of Gazaves

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice," the man said, motioning his hand at the two women to sit down.

"Admittedly after the last job your... company offered us, it was hard for Mrs. Idolasiava and the board to pass up on another offer," one of the woman responded as she took a seat in the oak chair opposite of the small round table. "However, with that being said, Valisus, I have been told an unfathomable amount of times by my boss to remind you, and by extension your boss, that this is an exception. An exception that was graced by our good-natured partnership," She continued, her rose coloured lips curving to form a smirk as she spoke.

"You were never one to beat around the bush, Ady," Valisus retorted, sitting down himself in a chair opposite to the two women.

His seat gave a great view of the skyline of the metropolis beyond the windowed wall. It was a beautiful day despite the time of the year. The yellow-orange sun hung high in the sky, casting it rays down on the sprawling concrete jungle below. The only downside to this was the near blinding glare as the sunlight reflected off of the hundreds of skyscrapers that made up downtown Karsea. He adjusted his dark blue blazer, which had become slightly wrinkled from him sitting down. Satisfied, he reached down and pulled up a brown leather briefcase, placing it on the table with a low thud. Opening the case, he took out the stack of papers that were imprisoned inside and pushed them across to two women.

"Here is what the job entails, and more importantly I suppose for your company, the amount that my company is willing to pay," Valisus said as he closed the briefcase back up and set it back down beneath the table.

Adrianari, the higher ranking of the two women present, grabbed the papers and placed them in front of her. She reached into her purse and took out a pair of black-rimmed, over-the-counter reading glasses and put them on. She brushed her bangs, which had been draped over her aqua-green eyes from looking down into her purse, up over her ear and read the document over. Her brow furrowed as she read the documents, visibly annoyed and upset at what Gazaves was offering for the services of Alsione International. After several minutes of silence, Adrianari took off her glasses and placed them on the table. Again, she had to readjust her curly, electric blue hair.

"Is this a joke or something, Valisus?" She said crassly. "I took the time out of my day to personally come down here because I thought it would be worth my while. If I knew that you would just be trying to fuck me over, then I would have just went home to my husband."

Valisus was visibly taken aback by her response. He didn't respond to Adrianari, instead he just looked over the woman. This wasn't his first meeting with her. Far from it in actuality. Adrianari was often the only person they, Alsione International, would send to the meetings. The 36-year-old had served in the Popular Assembly for three-years as one of the 83 military officers selected to serve as a military adviser. It was during this time that the then-Junior Lieutenant garnered her current portfolio of government contacts, making her the obvious middleman between the Republic's biggest, most successful private military company, and the middle man for the Alemannic government itself, the nation's largest nuclear energy company.

He had never seen her companion before however. The tall, light-skinned, brunette was something of an oddity in the country, whose citizens were predominantly olive-skinned by nature of the Mediterranean climate of Alemannia. She hadn't said a word the entire time.

"Is she going to say anything on the matter?" Valisus broke the silence.

"Oh, I'm sure she would if she spoke an ounce of Alemannic," Adrianari quipped. She moved the contract in front of her and spoke. "Alessandra, Mr. Auxilianav would like to hear your opinion on the contract. I tried to explain to him that your Alemannic is extremely poor, but he was just so adamant about the whole thing," She addressed her companion, speaking in near perfect English down to the posh accent that most Alemannians try to replicate when learning the tongue. She didn't respond, merely smiled and nodded as she looked at the paper in front of her.

"Valisus, I'll be honest here, I do not enjoy conversing with you whatsoever. I enjoy doing these things with your boss and your fellow co-workers substantially more so," She paused only to glance at Alessandra to make sure that she was still looking at the papers. "I'm telling you this just so you can start to fathom just what a humongous deal this is that I cleared my schedule for the day just to make this meeting. You and I both know that the amount of money your company is offering is bullshit for the work they want. So, let me make this painstakingly easy for you, Valisus. You're going to increase the contract's payout by 55% and be willing to negotiate with them should one of the higher ranking knights or palatines get captured."

Valisus opened his mouth but Adrianari raised her finger at him.

"I know it seems like I'm being a bully, but really I need to be this blunt just so you bureaucrats understand the real world situation; not the fancy 'best-case' that the secret police briefed you on when they handed you this contract at least an hour before our meeting. You need us far far far more than Alsione needs this contract. So, call up whomever you need to, get the money wired, a written statement faxed over, and then we will have a deal." She waved her hand dismissively at him.

He gave a loud sigh but ultimately complied. Pushing his chair back, he got up from the table and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room was silent, which was only broken through the muffled voice of Valisus talking to whoever his government "handler" was. She briefly looked at her right hand, scowling when she saw that when she noticed that she had chipped the sapphire nail polish off on her pinkie finger at some point between the car ride over and when she looked at it. The door opened and Valisus reentered the room, carrying a freshly faxed over sheet of paper with People's National Commissariat chairman's signature on it.

"Here," Valisus muttered as he threw the paper down onto the table. "Everything you ask for is right there."

Adrianari glanced over the paper briefly and smiled. She took out her iPhone and handed it over to Valisus.

"There's the address to our bitcoin wallet. If you would be so kind as to make the preliminary deposit, then I believe we can be on our way."

"You're a real bitch, Ady" Valisus said as he took her phone and entered the amount needed for the deposit. Once that was done, he handed her phone back to her.

"I know," she responded smiling. "I believe we're done here then." She continued, standing up from the table and picking up her phone.

"Give Karolisia and little Tasirus my regards, Valisus," Adrianari said as she and Alessandra headed towards the door and left.

---

31 October, 2016 - 09:00 hrs [ST+3]
Somewhere off the coast of Crysuko

The average soldier rarely ever know for what or why they are fighting. It was one of the many things Adrianari had lamented when she served as a platoon commanding officer in the National People's Army. While she, personally, didn't see combat, she knew people who had. Maybe, she thought, the ambiguity of their cause allowed them to focus solely on the combat and their task at hand. That was one of the perks of being a mercenary; you knew why or what you were fighting for — aside from the money that is. Her job was simple, on paper at least. She and her two companies were to advise and assist the FERC rebels. The actual method was entirely up to her though.

For three weeks she and her soldiers had been travelling aboard the Mistral-class amphibious assault ship, one of the several employed by Alsione International. The ship had a long-range capacity of 450 soldiers, well above the current 250 soldiers that were under Adrianari's command and the 50 or so that would remain on the ship for command and control duties. In addition to the two companies, a squadron of 16 tiltrotors were carried for aerial transportation purposes, a company's worth infantry fighting vehicles, and enough cushioned landing craft to transport the infantry fighting vehicles ashore. The Mistral itself was accompanied by a small National People's Navy taskforce, consisting of three submarines, and eight escorts. Normally the military tried to avoid involving itself with the work its subcontractors, but the lack of available space transportation for the soldiers made such an escort a necessity.

The city of Kastophsis was vastly different from those of Alemannia. Mining towns that evolved into glittering metropolises were all too common in a country whose primary exports were rare earth metals and elements. What made Kastophsis different was the architecture. The glittering cities of Alemannia rose high into the sky, almost touching the very heavens themselves. The one thing Ady did notice about Kastophsis was the air. It was clean, fresh; she couldn't recall a city in her homeland that could match the air quality.

The deck of the Mistral was buzzing with activity. Several of the tiltrotors were being loaded with soldiers would be deployed to the northern outskirts of the city in coordination with the Orange-Stoner forces already present. Ady would be deploying amongst these soldiers and serving as the "forward commander" for this operation. The actual commander of the operation, one Major Selesia Otlakana, would remain on the Mistral; which would be serving as the Alsione mobile headquarters for the duration of the operation. There wasn't on word on whether or not additional reinforcements would be sent their way or if this was all that was being offered.

"Senior Lieutenant Tireasana," the shrill voice of Ady's handler, Junior Sergeant Perelia Ferisiasko, filled Ady's ear through the headset she was wearing.

Ady slung the G11 rifle she was equipped with over her right shoulder and pressed the talk button on her left ear.

"Yes control," the words just came out of her mouth. It was all routine by this point to Adrianari.

"The Kingfisher that's carrying you to Kastophsis is ready. You'll be attached to Anvil Squad for the flight in."

"Copy control, Tireasana out."

She made her way across the crowded fight deck. Every so often a loud, rocket-like sound would flood the entirety of the deck as one of the tiltrotors departed and flew towards the city. It was terrible day out at sea. The dark, foreboding clouds smothered the Earth like a blanket, raining down a constant drizzle that was only exacerbated by the rough seas. The signature crimson beret that she wore was soaking wet, and the pony tail she had beneath it looked as though she had just gotten out of a shower. Beads of water were forming on the polyethylene-graphene-osmium blended chest armour she was wearing and slowly trickled down to her supply belt. The black underarmour that she wore beneath was also nearly soaked through by the time she found her squad for the flight in.

"You girls Anvil squad?" Ady inquired, speaking at 8 women who were waiting outside one of the tiltrotors.

"Yes ma'am, senior lieutenant" one of the women, the nominal squad leader Ady assumed, replied, snapping a salute shortly after.

"None of that, hon" Ady shot back. "We're not military, we don't need to do that shit anymore."

"Well if that's the case then you're late, lieutenant. We were due to depart 10 minutes ago."

The squad leader turned and walked up the rear ramp of the Kingfisher, which had just started their engines. Ady liked this noncom. She was bitchy just like her. Ady followed the squad and sat down on the bench that lined both the walls of the Kingfisher. She was happy to be dry, even if it was only for the 20 or so minute flight to the rendezvous point where she'd be meeting the Orange-Stoner forces. Removing the G11 from her shoulder, she placed it in front of her as she buckled her safety harness. After about five minutes, the Kingfisher lurched off the ground, the turboprop engines creating a thunder inside the hull of the tiltrotor as it lifted off of the deck of the Mistral. The mechanical grind of the landing gear receding into the aircraft alerted Ady that they were up in the air and flying towards their destination. It was the beginning of what was going to be a very long job.

[The Macabees]

Battle of Kastophsis

The horizon glowed ember from the unfolding battle that marked the enemy's advance upon Kastophsis. From their position atop a building near the edge of the city's southern suburb, the three soldiers had an extensive view of the grounds just directly to their south. One looked into the far distance with a pair of binoculars glued to his face. His head slowly turned from one side to the other, as his gaze swept the landscape. After a minute or two, he brought the binoculars down to reach into his pocket with his free hand to pull a long piece of brown jerky out. He stuck it in his mouth to chew on it for a little, bringing the binoculars back up to his eyes.

"Shit, Timur. Can't you chew any fuggin' louder?" The soldier who spoke was sitting on a large roof turbine. Large by turbine standards at least. Wearing his power armor, the different modules thick enough to defeat standard rounds in the combat zone, he looked a giant sitting on a small aluminum cylinder. His suit was suspending him, it was a trick they all learned to get a little rest from time to time.

The man standing — too donning his power armor — masticated more loudly in return, and if you were standing from a certain angle you could almost see him smirk.

The one sitting shook his head and looked up. "You're a real ass, you know that? This is why no one likes you. It's because you suck. You suck, Timur." The Timur one kept chewing. Loudly. The one sitting wasn't joking any longer. He rose to his feet, his legs making a whizzing sound as the power assist lifted him into an upright position. "Look man, we're sitting on this damn roof bored out of our minds and your chewing is driving me fuggin' crazy, I know you're having a good time at my expense, but you need to shut. the. fugg'. up. bro." He put his right arm on Timur's left shoulder, pulling back on it to turn the man around.

Timur turned around alright, and if it wasn't for the helmet that covered his face he'd probably look very angry. You could hear him huff and buff beneath the grates of his mask.

Before any of the two escalated any further, the third man stepped in between them and broke the pattern. "Why don't you shut the fug up, Innokentiy? Shit, you two are causing such a ruckus that the enemy could probably hear you two 'itches squabble from all the way from Bastonaxi." This time he looked straight at the complainer. "By the way, Innokentiy, what do you have against a man and his jery anyways?"

"Nothin', sarge. I guess." The man Innokenity lightly pushed himself away and backed up a step. "It's just that this asshole is doing it jus' to piss me off."

The one named Timur laughed. "The way I reckon," he said, "is that I'm stuck in this damn war whether I like it or not. You see, I'm not complaining. I'm jus' sayin', it's my job to be in a constant state of suck. Don't get me wrong, I love me a good fight an' all, but let's be honest with ourselves. None of us are here 'cus we like travelin'. Goddamn does it feel nice to eat a little jerky once in a while. God forbit that I f'in treat myself to some goddamn jerky. And I'd appreciate it, Innokenity," — he could have probably kept a bit of the aggression to himself — "if you'd stop being such a. whiny. little. bitch!"

"Man, fu—" started Innokenity, who tensed up as if ready to bolt forward.

"Cut it out, both of you!" That was 'sarge's' voice who thundered, the one in between them two. Sergeant Viktor Tomalenko was a big man, with wide shoulders and a back that came down to his waist like a broad arrowhead. Even through his power armor you could tell his musculature. He was a feared man, and respected too. Born in the Red Star Union, like the other two, he had fought his fair share of wars. Shit, he could still remember with clarity the day he crushed an Ordenite man's head with his bear hands. He wasn't wearing no power armor then either. Red Star Union didn't give you those kind of perks. No, he got his suit the day he decided his country was a lost cause. He, Innokenity, and Timur emigrated to Tarn, where they took employment with Orange-Stoner. People said they'd hire just about anyone with experience killing other human beings in battle.

Innokenity looked at the sarge with an incredulous look. "Are you f'in' kidding me, sarge? You know he's being a dick."

Timur chuckled again. "Me? I'm just eating my jerky." He slipped another piece out from his pant's side pocket and put it in his mouth, taking care to chew it up right in front of Innokenity's face. Loudly, too. His face smug while he ate, you could hear that sound of saliva slapping against the teeth and his mouth moved. "Mmm, love me some good jerky."

"You really are a sunnabitch, Timur." The sarge looked at him and then down at his pocket, with a look of disgust. "Gimme a piece of that while you're at it." The man with the jerky pulled out a piece for his commander.

"Shit, gimme one too," chimed in Innokenity.

The sargeant laughed and shook his head. "No, Innokenity. You don't get one. That's what you get for being a bitch." That got Timur and the sergeant laughing even harder, and behind his mask Innokenity's face reddened like ripe totamo. The sargeant slapped the knee of his suit with his armored hand. "Don't take it so hard soldier, let the man enjoy some jerky."

"F both of y'all," was the only thing Innokenity could say.

The blood orange skies thundered, the clouds performing a light show of non-stop flashes in concert with the artillery barrage. The shelling was creeping further north as the enemy columns approached the city. Rebel resistance had been largely ineffective and now government forces were almost upon the city. Whatever rebel forces could be mustered in time had been deployed inside the city. They had their own commanders and leadership, but the Orange-Stoner agents who were advising them had told them to organize themselves within buildings and strongholds. Government forces would be allowed to enter the city, where they would be ambushed and forced into an urban battle that would at least wear them down until rebel reinforcements could arrive — and, just as important, until the Macabean aid convoy arrived. With whatever weapons they could get their hands on — old rocket propelled grenade launchers, light man-portable anti-aircraft missiles, and an ad hoc medley of small arms —, the rebels awaited the enemy in the dark alleyways and boobytrapped hallways of apartment blocks, police stations, administrative buildings, and other strategic urban strongholds.

The sargeant looked towards at what Timur had been surveying minutes earlier. "What were you looking at, anyways?" he asked.

"I was watching them get closer. Seems weird to watch that kind of stuff in real time. It's almost like a free front seat at the movie theater." Timur smiled. "I almost wish I had some popcorn."

"Get a grip on yourself, soldier." The sarge looked over at him, apparently with some concern, although you wouldn't be able to tell because you couldn't see his face behind the tinted plexiglass of his two eyepieces. The suits were custom to Orange-Stoner and it made them look badass. It was the kind of equipment a private military contractor could afford. "Let me see," he snatched the binoculars from Timur's hands.

"Hey! I was using tho—"

The sarge was too quick. "Shut up!" He scanned the horizon for a minute or two and finally gave them binoculars back to the other soldier. "They'll be here within an hour or two. It's time to get inside and get back to business. C'mon, we don't have much time." The three of them went through a door on a small structure near them atop the roof.

This door took them down a series of staircases. They descended perhaps eleven blocks, having chosing a tall building that would give them a lot of visibility. The local power station had stopped producing power weeks ago and so the elevator wasn't a choice. Besides, the elevator would probably break under the weight of them and their power armor, if they could even fit inside in the first place. No, the trip would have to be made down a staircase made for normally clothed humans. Uncomfortable maybe, but at least the suit took care of the pain part. Apart from the drugs that flowed through their veins, at least the suits pretty much did all the heavy lifting for them. That included lifting themselves, like when they were running or when they were pretending to sit atop roof turbines. It was convenient, but it drained the batteries like a mo'f'er.

At the lobby of the building, they were awaited by a group of almost fifty rebel fighters. These nodded and made way for the three contractors. Walking outside, the three Orange-Stoner soldiers trotted out to an even larger group of rebels. There maybe three hundred overall, and there were others poking their heads out apartment windows or from the street front stores on the first floors. This was the group they'd be tasked with leading through the initial days of battle in Kastophsis.

Many of them nodded at the three men in armor came to stand in the center of a street that led south, where somewhere not too far was the very edge of Kastophsis' southernmost suburb. These were nods of deep respect.

"Listen men," started the sargeant, "the enemy is coming." His suit translated his words into the native tongue. "This ain't gonna be an easy fight. We ain't gonna push them into the sea like in the fuggin' movies. If we're gonna win this thing, we gotta fight dirty and we gotta get gritty. Let's fight on our terms. Draw them in, let them get comfortable, and when they least suspect is pounce. Hide in the buildings. Hide in the rubble. Use the sewers to get around them, or away from them if you're in a tough spot. Do you what ya need to do to survive, but remember that the end-game here is to kill as many of them as you can. That's the only way we're all gonna leave this city alive."

He looked around at each and everyone of their faces. "I can see it in you, I can. Each of you is a warrior. Each one of you has the heart of a thousand lions. Not all of you will survive. But I know that, in the afterlife when we meet, we will laugh over good ale in the halls of the gods and we will proudly boast the countless deaths we brought upon the enemy."

At that some men laughed and others cheered. Some now started to join in, urging their neighbors along, building that unstoppable momentum of a soldier ready for battle. "For a free Crysuko!" exclaimed someone from a window above.

"Give one last hurrah!" The men cheered again, this time more loudly. Some of them fired their rifles in the air — despite being told not to, noted the sergeant — and this kicked off another round of screams and battle cries. They were pumped and ready to go, and now they'd have to go wait in whatever dark corner they were told to post at until the enemy's columns had penetrated deep into the city. Only then would they come out to fight the enemy, launching an ambush with such unrelenting force that it would hopefully cause government forces enough damage to prolong the city's siege until Macabean aid could help turn the tide of the battle. "Godspeed soldiers. I'll see you on the other side!"

The celebration went on even as the sergeant left, followed by the two other fully armored soldiers he came with. They walked in silence a couple blocks towards the north. Around them, FERC soldiers completed final preperations around the positions they were told to protect. Sandbags were stacked to block entrances into buildings and to provide machine gun nests with enough cover to hide until they could open fire. In the windows above, men prepared gun emplacements, although their firearms were well hidden. Once the fighting started, they could use those emplacements to rain death upon government forces in the streets below. But most of what was going on was beyond simple human eyesight. Below, the sewer systems were also being fortified and prepared for the battle. Elsewhere, labor gangs were still creating explosive traps beneath city streets, and even beneath entire city blocks, looking to sink in key roads and to commit damage via explosive devices buried well beneath the black asphalt of highways and the cobblestones of minor roadways. Preparations were comprehensive and made to sting. The taking of Kastophsis would not be easy, even if the enemy had a clear numerical and qualitative superiority.

Overheard, the sound of a tilt-rotor shattered the pattern of noise of men scuttling about and putting the finishing touches on what would most likely be their graves. It was Timur who looked up. "Well, well, well, looks like Alsione's boys are here. Couldn't have come at a better time." He spoke through a private comm channel. To onlookers they were just three badass mercenaries garbed in full-on power armor, walking silently down the street. Real John Wayne type shit.

"Yea, sooner would have been better," retorted Innokenity.

The three of them trudged on, deeper into the city, where they'd find more groups of rebels preparing for the fight. The battle would start in the suburbs and would spread inwards from there, which gave the defenders a chance to layer themselves. In other words, government forces would hit defensive layers that would whittle down their momentum and initiative until the siege turned into a bloody street-to-street, building-to-building battle.

[Crysuko]

Kastophsis, city centre

The fighting over the past few days had reached the core of the city. What was once filled with gleaming towers and clean streets was now war torn and falling apart, streets and buildings mashes by shell and bullet fire, with more than the occasional laser being fired at either side. At this point, it had reached a deadlock, and rebel soldier Skarr Makron was in the thick of it, holed up in an MG position in a boarded up shop. "Government forces are still swarming over this sector" he said to a comrade, loading a new belt of ammunition into the gun "Merone district is a crossroads of death, this whole battle is turning into a deadlock, but i've heard from command that there's a friendly armour column coming in from the north, not sure how true this is though". His friend came over, taking up a rifle position "some heavy guns of our own would sure help, but hey there's always these foreign guys lending a hand".

Skarr nodded back, scanning the ruined street they were holding "I suppose time will tell if they're actually going to help or just look down their noses at us"

Current situation map:

Deskavi, command centre
Since the war began, the normally unassuming town of Deskavi had become a hub for local rebel forces, but expecting an attack, a lot of heavy equipment had been moved here to turn the area into a force to be reckoned with. "sir" said a drone operator to an officer "we have government forces in sector 238, mostly armour and mechanised according to recon drones." the officer came over to look at the recon pictures "at their current course and speed, we have about a day to make ready" he continued. The order went out quickly, another battle was forming but with more heavy equipment and experienced troops on site, will the rebels at deskavi be able to hold their ground and perhaps even counterattack?

[The Macabees]

Battle of Kastophsis

Northern Suburbs

Like an eagle, a UAV soared over the plains that extended north of the city. It was small and translucent, as hard to see with radar as it was with the human eye. Just below its nose it carried what looked like an eye as black as night, with metallic eyelids peeled back to the rim. In the center, behind thin, tinted glass, was something that rotated around — a camera surveying the ground below.

It patrolled in broad circles, at times suddenly changing its trajectory to scope out another area. Equipped with one of the most powerful cameras that current technology could provide, with the capability — it was rumored — to pinpoint the face of a man in excruciating detail from a distance of over six kilometers, the UAV remained at an altitude high enough to avoid ground fire and, equally as important, high enough to see a sufficient surface area of the front north of Kastophsis. It tracked, in this case, the movement of a significantly sized armored column that was approaching the city from that direction.

Government forces were making a smart move, trying as they were to open a second front in the city's siege and forcing the rebels to dilute the strength of their forces, which were currently bottlenecking government forces coming from the south. Furthermore, if successful, the new attack could cut rebels defending the city off, which also meant cutting them off the from the material aid that was still en route from the Golden Throne. Given the danger of the situation, it'd be the Orange-Stoner operatives who'd deploy to block enemy armor and infantry from penetrating too far into the city. A little over three-quarters of the mercenary force, or about 170 fully power armored infantrymen, dug into the northern suburbs to prepare a robust defense. The others remained in the center of Kastophsis, guiding rebel defenses against the government's southern attack.

They took with them perhaps two thousand rebels who had been briskly trained in basic shooting and armed with whatever weaponry they could find. Sometimes this meant issuing them dead men's gear. But, having a weapon to defend yourself with was better than not having one, so few men complained. Those that did were often the ones who died first.

Rebel forces were used to blockade main streets by physically obstructing certain paths, whether by burning tires and cars or by fortifying intersections. They used buildings as cover, establishing machine gun nests with overlapping kill zones to trap government infantrymen in the streets below. They were neither trained nor equipped as well as they ought to have been, but they would have to do for now. Those militiamen weren't supposed to win the battle on their own, anyways. They were speed bumps, useful for slowing or temporarily stopping the enemy. They were also expendable enough to justify deploying them to such an advanced position, rather than drawing the armor deeper into the city where it would be at an even greater disadvantage.

Whereas the rebels were the anvil, the Orange-Stoner boys were the hammer. Well protected against most conventional small arms ammunition, their powered suits were also well cloaked, literally. A long cape made of a rough, mesh-like material draped down their back from their shoulders, wrapping around enough to conceal much of their profile, but not so much that it conflicted with their movement. The cloak was meant to help conceal them from radar and special sensory equipment, such as thermal cameras. Weaponry varied by soldier, as most Orange-Stoner men had the liberty of choosing what they went into battle with, but heavy assault rifles prevailed along with the Zilzal, a Riysan anti-tank missile with a tandem warhead. Assisted by their power armor, the PMC operatives loaded up on missiles and stored other caches strategically in fortified buildings deeper within the suburbs. A few set up shop on various rooftops, preparing positions throughout that sector of the city that they could move to and from during the upcoming battle. With high caliber rifles, they could engage enemy forces at range and help pin them in place while their comrades on the streets flanked and raided the government column at different locations.

The decision to directly intervene certainly signaled an intent to escalate the Golden Throne's involvement in the ongoing civil conflict. But, it also represented the desperation with which Orange-Stoner hoped to hold Kastophsis. The city was planned to be used to help consolidate rebel forces and then breakout into the south to unify the separate oases of rebel authority. Before that could happen, though, the government counter-attacks would have to be stopped. It was a long shot for the rebels to accomplish that on their own, even with PMC advisors. For the success it asked for, the FERC needed a better trained arm. Until it had one, the PMCs would have to do some of the heavier fighting themselves.

While Orange-Stoner and rebel soldiers alike waited for the enemy armored column to enter the suburbs, the UAV continue to circle high above the unfolding battlefield, keeping allied units updated on the enemy's advance.

Western Sector

The center of Kastophsis had fallen into disaster. Once tall, proud buildings now slumped decrepit, parts of their façades crumbling onto the streets below as they were pelted by artillery and scarred by the incessant small arm fired that resounded throughout the city's many streets. Using sewer lines and auxiliary underground tunnels that had been carved by sappers prior to the battle, FERC militants were able to move to-and-from positions behind enemy lines as government forces continued to roll the front towards the north and east. And so even in the western and southern suburbs the fighting raged on, almost never with a period of rest and respite. It was brutal, bloody, and unrepentant business, and the situation was devolving into a stalemated slugfest.

Most civilians had migrated eastwards on the eve of the siege, but those who did not move were caught in the middle of the battle. As houses were toppled and destroyed, this meant the loss of innocent life. It was mostly the inadvertent collateral damage of war, but sometimes their deaths were cruel.

In theory, the rebel defense was working for the time being, having temporarily stalled the government attack. Whether the strategy would continue work in the long term depended on whether the rebels could get better weapons and on keeping the eastern routes into the city open to stream whatever reinforcements could be mobilized from the local populations in time. Otherwise, the rebels were outnumbered and couldn't resist against government forces aided by tanks and other armored vehicles indefinitely. There were simply too many of them and FERC supplies were starting to run low. It was the terrain that came them an advantage, but even that at some point simply isn't enough. Wars are won on the supply-side. Until more supplies came, the mission was to hold the enemy back and keep the eastern approaches open for when help did come.

In retrospect, then, the decision to — sometimes forcefully — employ Kastophsis' well-known miners as sappers was a good one. Apart from tunnels, they had also dug beneath the city to create weak zones that were then rigged with explosives. These sappers, usually operating in teams which ranged in size from 30 to 100 men and overseen by one or two of the Orange-Stoner contractors, worked day and night, and throughout the conflict. When the government attempted to move forces through certain sectors of the city, entire city blocks would be collapsed into huge subterranean caves carved out by these ad-hoc engineering forces. Large IEDs were planted as well, and these wrought havoc in more conventional ways. Together, they made the urban terrain precarious and destructive.

But, rebels forces were being worn down, too. They needed more aid, and faster.

At this rate, not much of Kastophsis would be left after the war.

To further stall the advancing enemy, PMCs organized company-sized rebel units and directed them to counter-attack against weaker points of the government line. These strikes were often nothing more than raids, hoping to slowly eat away at the government's army's initiative. Most of the time, the attacks were repulsed, but they were coordinated to strike specific positions from multiple directions, hoping to establish local superiority and overwhelm defenders. These tactics were often accompanied with further attacks from the rear, using tunnels and sewers to move platoon-sized forces quickly into the enemy's rear.

Eastern Plains

Rikjard Contrado had used his time wisely. Things were getting interesting around these parts, and now that the PMCs were largely doing their own thing he had a lot of time on his hands. He was also responsible for getting them supplies, once they arrived. Of course, for a good while now this didn't mean much, because not many supplies were coming. The Macabean convoy was still a few days out, there was no airfield yet (they were waiting for construction materials being shipped in by that same convoy), and so not much aid to distribute to forces fighting in the city. So, while things had still been low key around the office, Contrado built himself a little logistics force to prepare for when the time did arrive to start moving weaponry into Kastophsis. Indeed, he found it relatively easy to find the numbers he needed, because many of the locals were more interested in a supply job than being recruited as infantrymen or being pressed into service as sappers.

Recognizing the dier need for more ordnance in-country, the Agén Enkubíer had managed to coordinate orbital supply drops with Fuermak commanders. It was a more expensive endeavor than conventiona shipping methods, but lighter equipment could be brought to railgun launchers within the Golden Throne and from there shot into the sky in pods. These would quickly decelerate and be gathered up by large cargo craft waiting in high orbit. Then they could be transported via a lighter, more specialized cargo unit to a position where the pod could be dropped directly onto wherever it was needed — in this case, far north eastern Crysuko.

In these babies came things like rifles, handguns, shotguns, and millions of rounds of ammunition, as well as DNR-13 recoiless rifles and small mortars. At first, these supply pods only trickeled in, making soft landings far east of the city outside the immediate reach of government forces. Over time, the pace picked up to keep up with the tempo of the siege.

Contrado directed his little supply army to retrieve the aid and then distribute it to combatants in the city. Some of it also went to new recruits, warbands of which were always in recruitment. The FERC was even trying to conscript locals at this point, desperate for manpower to bolster weakening positions in the city. To accomplish their task, supply forces were given trucks that were usually commandeered from local civilians. When light commercial vehicles or pickup trucks were unavailable, they equipped themselves with sedans even. In times like these, one could hardly choose to be picky.

Armed with rifles, sidearms, and the rare light machine guns, these men and women were not protected or aided by armored PMC guards. They worked on their own and if they were caught in the fighting while supplying a frontline unit, then they were expected to defend themselves, their wares, and the vehicle they were using. Failure could mean not only their deaths, but the deaths of the men that counted on them to have the bullets to keep firing at the enemy.

They were valuable, though. If Kastophsis was successfully defended, then this force would be the backbone of any counteroffensive. It would be on their material-ladden vehicles that the northeastern FERC army would be supplied on the field, and they were the genesis of a much larger logistical corps that Contrado was working to forge together. It was natural then that the Agén Enkubíer agent reserved some of the better equipment for his own soldiers. They were given heavier machine guns even, which they could mount on their vehicle's roofs and trailers. That aside, not only were fighters in the city well aware of how important they were, but once a convoy made a drop-off they would often take wounded back to the rear. This saved a lot of lives, and it helped the rebels conserve some of their strength by patching up the less severely wounded before they were killed.

With the right distribution network and sufficient supplies, maybe, just maybe the rebels could do something more than just wear the government down through attrition, with the hope of maybe grinding the conflict down to a stalemate between to wary sides merely waiting to rebuild their strength before striking out again. Maybe, just maybe, FERC forces could overthrow the government they were fighting against. It was still a long call, but Contrado planned to have the back-end to support a truly war-winning rebel military when it was needed.

[OOC: Edited a terribly written sentence.]

[Crysuko]

Kastophsis

Government front

"it boggles the mind" said one government soldier to another. They had both been holding out in a burned out building along with several other comrades as the loyalists increased their effort to seize the city centre, but with an enemy so well dug in, it was reduced to a crawl. "I cannot for the life of me understand why they woudl turn to capitalism as a means to voice their disatisfaction with what happened in the capital". His friend turned his head a little "I've no sympathy, the ones who died were traitors and deserved their fate. Once this city falls, the rest will fall like dominos. Besides, even if by some fluke they hold Kastophsis, we can always attack again. and again. and again. These thugs don't have the luxury of solid supply lines and a large reinforcement pool. Sooner or later" he said ominously "they will all die or be killed"

As if on cue, their communicator implants crackled to life "enemy forces coming from the east on your position!" shouted the operator on the other end "prepare to recieve them". Both men looked worreidly at each other "east!?" said the first "they must be moving via the tunnels beneath us. Dammit! if we live through this, we have to make sure to do something about this". They set up their squad MG and took up defensive positions. The second looked through his binoculurs into the distance "militia. more of them...but a lot of them!" he reported, the first few shots coming in on their position. He cycled through the frequencies on his comm, hoping to find an open artillery operator "Delta Romeo Niner, this is Wilco platoon 1 section, requesting fire support danger close!". Artillery units had been having a had time taking secure positions, but the few that remained on the field were proving themselves deadly. But the following comm chatter was becoming increasingly desperate.
"all units, fire at will!"
"squad two, pick a target!"
"there's too many, captain!"
"watch your left!"
"anybody cover me, i've got two technicals on me!"
"I can't hold them! i'm hit! i'm hit!"
"where's the reinforcements!?"

Western outskirts
The rebels in the land west of Kastophsis had finally assembled and organised themselves. As opposed to the ragtag militia that was being ground out, these people more resembled regular infantry. The port town southwest of the city was also still operational, and had recently recieved a shipment of munitions and supplies paid for by the precious metals and stones. The reinforcements had roughly division strength (15,000) and while not as armoured or equipped as the loyalists, they would make the backbone of any counteroffensive.

[The Macabees]

Shores North of Bastonaxi

Not even a ray of light poked out from behind the horizon as Kees van Gröger's scuffed, light green boots touched land for the first time in almost ten hours. Light grains of sand crunched as they pressed into each other under his weight and he almost tripped over himself as some of it gave way from beneath his heel. He felt the urge to take his boots off, as a wave of nostalgia ran down his spine along with the memories of his childhood on the beaches of Cerfonlande. It was a fleeting moment anyhow. Kees was well beyond childhood now, well beyond humanity even. These sands were merely obstacles to him now.

Around him disembarked about a hundred men, some with faces painted black as charcoal and others with streaks of lapis blue instead. The majority of them wore faded fatigues and a hodgepodge of jackets of different makes and styles. They carried rifles, anti-tank weapons, and apparently whatever other equipment they could get their hands on for their weaponry was almost as varied as their garb.

Kees was wearing a uniform of a more modern sort, its pattern of green, tan, and light brown digitized and its cloth of a heavier sort, as one could tell by the way it draped around the body. His head was concealed in a helmet, its only outlet being a speaker near the mouth and two small glass circles lined vertically down the center of the face plate, both of which housed cameras and other sensors. In his hands, he carried a rifle as if it was simply an extension of his body, as if it belonged there by virtue of birth. The technology he boasted of, his poise, and his disciplined presence suggested he was not of the same ilk as the others. Here was a lion amidst cubs. The patches on his uniform were those of Orange-Stoner.

"Hurry," he barked, as he looked back to watch his men jump from their boats into the water and wade to his position.

They had come in rickety fishing boats, most made of wood and poorly fitted with ad hoc engines that had been scraped from wherever they could be found. The rebels did not have the logistical infrastructure to provide adequate means to move a thousand, and then half as much again, men even across the bay that separated the plains east of Kastophsis from the coasts just north of Bastonaxi. Thus, they had to improvise. In all honesty, Kees had to admit that they would have all looked like a decrepit mob of migrants rather than a proper company of soldiers. From the way the men fell in around him they very well could have been a mob. Kees sneered, but suddenly stopped and contented himself with shouting at them. "Hustle, you louts! We don't have all g'damn day! Move, move, move." His mask translated his words for him into the appropriate language.

It wasn't their fault anyway, their indiscipline. They had only weeks of training, and it was Kees who had essentially been left with the task all on his lonesome. There simply weren't enough contractors on the ground for proper training yet. Rumor was they were going to drop another three hundred or so men, but that was just rumor. Besides, little good that did him here and now.

"Let's move," he said. The mercenary nodded his head at one. "Take point."

Kees spoke in Guffingfordi, not Díenstadi. It felt good to speak in his own language, rather than that of imperial scum. It was why he had joined Orange-Stoner and not the auskilares. In any case, the translation software in his helmet could essentially translate almost any language to another. He did not understand much of how it worked. What good would that knowledge do to a soldier? He had read somewhere that it worked using an algorithm of some sort. They called it a complex electronic nervous system, or a network of patterns, or some such anyway. Whatever its mechanism, Kees knew he could rely it on it to communicate with the locals with almost absolute certainty. The program could even translate new languages based on pattern recognition, which was much like how a child learned a new language or a dog new commands. Oh, what a waste of time it must have been when scholars spent lifetimes deciphering the likes of Yi'nar A, that ancient language that scholars over two centuries ago toiled over before deciphering it over a period of two decades.

He moved up the beach, his men following behind him. Looking to his right, he looked down the strip towards the north. There, manifesting as mere silver silhouettes glowing under the night's waxing crescent, dismounted another team of a hundred or so rebel soldiers led by an Orange-Stoner mercenary much like himself. They worked alone, though, for Kees neither waited for the others nor did he bother to communicate with them.

Farther away, so distant it was but a minor glow much like that of the near-cold embers of a dying fire, burned the southern suburbs of Kastophsis. Her streets were awash with blood, and not just that of soldiers either. Civilians who had not been able to escape, which had made for most of them, were trapped in the city and they died too — perhaps more of them were killed than combatants even. The war was stalling into a bloody stalemate, and if the government was not to retake the initiative then the rebels would have to steal it. Thus, Kees found himself on the beaches just north of the city of Bastonaxi attempting to do just that.

It was more accurate to say that he and the rag-tag band of followers assigned to him were an experiment. Kees and fourteen of his comrades had picked a hundred men apiece, the very best they could find among the rebels they were arming and training in Kastophsis and to the east, to lead them onto these shores in a test-run of sorts for future amphibious operations like this one. Over fifteen hundred of them landed along the coast this night in total.

Turning to his left, Kees saw a lone bluff looking over the bay, with a dark pit at the foot of one of its walls marking an entrance to its cave. He could hear the shuffle of another company-sized rebel unit moving up the beach behind it.

Ahead of them, beyond where the sand ended and became hard, packed-in dirt, rose coastal cliffs made of stratified earth. Narrow paths made of steps, held up by thick pieces of wood at their lip, curled up narrow ravines that cut into the face of the rock. With some effort, the Orange-Stoner man and his company of guerrillas — a fist, the unit was called — climbed and climbed until they had reached a broad mesa that stretched into an expanse of rolling hills separated into small groups by large plains and vast valleys. They came to a halt just a bit past the edge.

One of the soldiers removed his pack and opened it, unveiling a small folded contraption. Pulling it out and opening it, piece by piece, he revealed it to be a UAV. Only a few minutes later it buzzed into the sky, flying low at first and only gradually gaining altitude until it was but a speck against the dark blue backdrop of a night that would soon transition to morning. It carried on it tiny cameras that would survey the terrain below and around it, for up to two-and-a-half kilometers. The feed began relaying to Kees immediately, displaying through his eyes as if he were seeing it himself.

With eyes from above to illuminate their path, the fist continued and weaved through the short grass for another six or so kilometers until they came upon a road that stretched south to north. Its asphalt had gone a long time without repair and the strain of increased military traffic was taking a very visible toll. The gravel crumbled under his boots as the Guffingfordi stepped onto the pavement, looking down towards the limitless horizon in one direction and then in the other.

He whistled sharply at one of the rebel fighters, who had started to lounge once he fell in behind him. He pointed to two spots, one on either side of the road. "There and there. Set up the sensors."

The rebel turned to a group of his countrymen and shouted in his own language, putting them to work. They ran to where Kees had pointed and started to unload a series of devices that they dug into the roadside. They were very small and, once in place, hardly visible unless you knew what you were looking for. As soon as they were finished, Kees had pointed out another location and the rebel NCO barked orders to the men. They laced their particular stretch of the small highway with a criss-cross of acoustic, seismic, infrared, and chemical sensors. These synced with a satellite in high orbit which hovered as in place in synchrony with the rotation of the Earth. The data fed into a program which interpreted it to feed intelligence to the contractors on the ground. Somewhere countless dozens of thousands of miles away Orange-Stoner intel agents provided 'round-the-clock oversight and support.

As Kees' men and the thousand, and more, other rebels planted their sensors throughout the area north of Bastonaxi and south of Kastophsis, they had built themselves an intricate network of sensors. They moved and worked, moved and worked, from one location to another, and built their web so that they could track as much local military traffic as their numbers allowed.

Finally, as the sun peeked over the edge of man's sight and light slowly replaced dark, Kees decided that their work was adequate. The men were getting tired. They had been awake almost eighteen hours by now, either seasick or on the move for the majority of it, and there were still plenty hours of work ahead of them. In the distance, firefights had been heard here and there, and the men were slowly becoming more alert, more accustomed to the fact that they were at war. While they did not yet have the discipline of a well-drilled infantry unit, it was just a matter of time — for the survivors, at least. In any case, it would be no use being caught by government forces in the open during the day.

The fist followed him as he made way to a small grove thickly packed with pines. They melted into the trees and disappeared, much like their comrades in the other fourteen fists scattered across the plains would do. Perhaps some of them had already entered into firefights, seen by government scouting forces or perhaps unintentionally stumbling into a garrison. Or perhaps the gunfire had come from a battle between loyalists and rebels.

Those rebel fists that had done as planned hid as best as they could, avoiding open combat with the enemy until they could attack as unexpectedly as possible. The sensors would pick up convoys and their size, allowing them to attack where the intelligence suggested they could overpower the communist columns. Like this, the mercenary-led bands of rebels chipped away at the rear elements of the loyalist armies fighting in the southern suburbs of Kastophsis. Over the days, they would not only attack logistics convoys, but once they knew the patterns of government movements between bases and garrisons — so that they could gauge their size — they would attack these as well and work together if needed against larger targets, if needed.

Wreaking havoc by cutting the nerves and veins that fed enemy forces fighting in the city, they hoped that the rebels there had the mind to launch their counter-attack soon.

In the meanwhile, Kees kept his forces away from the main fighting. He let his men rest and sleep for a few hours. They had a more important task than ambushes and insurgency. His fist was to be the engine of the operation. While his men slept, the Guffingfordi plotted how exactly he was to achieve the outcome that Command at Orange-Stoner had charged him to do. As the sun rose higher, the sounds of war picked up in crescendo.

[Crysuko]

Despite the number of losses suffered, government forces had secure over half of the city of Kastophsis, but were wholly unable to make an attempt into the rest, but neither could the rebels. The situation had slowed to a perfect stalemate, with a wide strip of no man's land bisecting the city across the middle, coninciding with the more organised reinforcements from the east entering the city, but also the way from Bastonaxi was still open. Meanwhile at Deskavi, the rebels forces realised that forewarned was not forearmed.

While they did possess superior equipment and organisation to units further north, the armoured fist that had smashed into them hadn't been alowed much, even by concerted efforts. This town was an important one, home to a large cluster of munitions factories. But despite their initial progress, government forces had been caught up on the outskirts, mechanised infantry and tanks bogged down by heavy rain and mud.

Bastonaxi North road
The placing of the sensor clusters had not gone unnoticed, and more forces moving north intended to reinforce loyalist troops in Kastophsis had been dispatched to deal with the rebels still in the area. They had realsied long ago with other fights with the rebels that they weren't simply going to stand and fight. In a conventonal battle, they couldn't win. So instead, the better equipped and organised loyalist troops would use similar tactics. Split into smalelr groups and advance on a wide front, and when one engaged in battle, other fireteams and squads would converge on that position to assist, encircling the enemy and preventing them from slipping away.

The navy had not been silent either, with a sizeable force coming up from the port of Danuun, attempting to blockade the flow of commerce in and out of rebel controleld territory in the north, but coastal fire, irregular shipping chedules and ships owned by the rebels themselves was making this difficult. Several Government destroyers were sunk attacking what looked to be a cargo ship, but was actually a Q ship, carrying heavy concealed guns. It was known that rebel forces operated at least one submarine, in the port of Aoka at the time, and was subsequently seized.

Somewhat strangely, no attacks had been made using it, nor had it been spotted. It wasn't considered a high priority seeing as how it wasn't carrying any cruise missiles but the frustration remained that it wasn't anywhere to be found.

The public were also split down the middle, with support going either way for government and FERC forces. Recruitment for the armies of both sides going up significantly. and with some FERC officers being defectors, they chose to train recruits fully instead of merely giving them a gun and a week at a shootign range. It would take longer, perhaps time that the rebel government didn't have. But at the same time, the ability to field regular, drilled infantry would be a huge asset...

[Real Sperland]

SHELLVAIN 3.00 pm

"I just don't get it, why are we getting involved?" asked Brian Boru's friend, John O'Reilly, a military commander.
"Because every SINGLE time a war like this happens, the anti-'communists' commit atrocities the people of their nations don't even know about. If we let this continue, we will have a fascist puppet state commiting all sorts of atrocities" Brian replied.
"But their not even real communists! Their entire state is self contradictory. Why should we help them?"
"If we let a neoliberal regime take hold, their will be another Thatcherite era! Another step back for Anarchism. The people of their country will think Anarchy is chaos and socialism is anything a government does. Not to mention social problems which will ruin peoples lives."
Co-president of The Free Territory of Sperland Jack Ryan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere from behind them.
"There is strong opposition among the Confederation. They don't want to get involved claiming it would be imperialist of us to do so. But it is still going ahead. Democracy shall return to Crysuko for the first time ever! No more Capitalist Militaristic Plutocracies or Communist Vanguard parties. The troops have instructions not to interfere with the political ideas of Crysuko."
Brian and John glanced at each other.
"So what about Crusuko?" Brian asked.
"We have special plans for their government" Jack replied smiling.