The Occupation of Arván (IC | TWI ONLY | CLOSED)

[Ostehaar]

Cold tap water poured into a small metal kettle. Jehn waited for the water to fill about two thirds of it before she closed the valve, and placed the kettle on the burner. As the water reached a gentle boil and bubbles formed on the water surface, she removed the heating and poured the water into two large teacups. One or two teaspoons of black tea leaves and a bit of sugar were already in the cups as she did so, and the entire mixture blended together to form a dark brown harmonious fusion.

Jehn carried the two steaming cups of tea to the dining table, and placed one of them next to Mehnard. He uttered a short "thanks" and glanced at her for a moment, and then resumed typing, eyes fixed on his laptop's display and face frowned thoughtfully under his rumpled hair and scruffy beard.

"What's wrong?" Jehn asked and took a sip of her tea.

Mehnard stopped typing. He massaged his nose bridge with one hand and rubbed his tired eyes. "It's a mess," he finally said, "what's going on here."

"You're writing to Mik," she stated and nodded slowly in sympathy. Mik was the head of Gael Section in the agency's collection department, responsible for bringing intelligence on Arvan, among other places. Mehnard and Jehn, however, were technically not stationed in Arvan per se, but in Noronica, and were simply sent to Arvan because the OVAST didn't have enough people to spare at the time. So, they found themselves having to report to a person they did not like and was not even their usual superior.

"Yeah," Mehnard said discontentedly. "And the worst thing, as I said, is that the place is a total mess. Seriously, I don't think there's an agency or a crime organization in the region that isn't involved in this god forsaken place. From about two or three military organizations to fucking Silver Branch Club... And I won't be surprised at all to find a Svalbardian operative or a few. This is gradually getting to a San Javier level of shit, Jehn."

"Pfft," She spat out, "don't exaggerate."

"I am exaggerating it, of course. Still, it's difficult to see the forest through all these trees. We're here to soften the place for an invasion, but in practice we find ourselves delving into insignificant and useless issues, such as the activities of crime syndicates around here and the amount of illegal trafficking involved. I'm all for monitoring that, especially in our neighborhood, but if Mik wants someone to do that, he should persuade The Doctor to send operatives here for this. It's not our job."

Jehn sighed. "Frankly, I don't think we need to do it at all. The Noros are all over this for a long time now anyway, and we can simply ask them to share the intelligence with us. It's not like they'd refuse, right?"

"Never heard of 'if you want to get something done, do it yourself'?"

"True," Jehn admitted.

"So speaking about the forest," Mehnard said, "anything new from the Barcode?"

"Ah," Jehn replied, "I think the ANAF has reached a frantic level of preparations for an expected invasion. After the Mig incident and given the recent rise in NNP activity, they seem to take nothing as insignificant. I saw reports of raids on civilian neighborhoods where there was a pro-Noro graffiti, and later it was published in local media as 'raid against drug dealers'."

"You're kidding," Mehnard said, finally taking a sip of his now cold tea and grimacing as a result.

"I shit you not. I mean, they know they can't repel an invasion, especially since it's obvious that it will be done by mutiple forces. I see them talking about this in meetings, and it's stupid to think otherwise. I think they're just using the time they've got left to eradicate any domestic resistance, maybe in hopes that after they're toppled, the locals would resist any foreign occupation."

Mehnard hummed in understanding. "Have you seen any preparations for a post-invasion insurgency?"

"Not yet," Jehn replied. "If they're talking about it, they're either doing it outside of the government, or not writing anything down and saving it on the servers. It would make sense that they would do it, though."

"I think that's what we should search for," Mehnard asserted. "Taking the place would be easy. Keeping the place from brewing afterwards... That's more important."

[Jahe Davmwoem]

Colonel Coninenbelt looked back at the mob woman, who gave a slight nod of her head.

He looked back to Patrick. "Yes, Mr. Secretary. This will be satisfactory. When at all possible, the Lieutenant would like to see one of your bases. When you decide on the deal, and I hope you say yes, the lady back there will send in the first shipment of surplus. Is there any other concerns you have for us?"

[Noronica]

"Not at this moment in time. I will call upon you tomorrow, enjoy your night - bonne nuit!"

Patrick called upon his advisors and Isabelle, tonight would be long.

[Vemta]

Secretary Mack stepped inside the Council Room, an aide following her behind just as a security agent closed the door. She was bringing a wireless phone which he handed over to the secretary.

"Ma'am, we've got the Noronnicans on the line. They told me they'll get the Prime Minister shortly."

"Excellent, thank you."

Secretary Mack smiled before sitting down one of the chairs which was normally filled by the Secretary of Transportation and Communications.

"Hello, this is Secretary Mack, I'd like to talk to Prime Minister Gerald Night please?"

[Noronica]

Gerald sighed rather audibly as he sat at his desk. The past few days had been manic. Attempting to patch things up with the press, assure people that Arván was not set to invade Noronica, ensuring the Noronnican Media Corporation weren't getting too much information. Gerald wanted a rest somewhere, somewhere quiet instead of in his Nolon office, listening to the pattering of rain outside his window.

Sliding a drawer open from his desk, he spied his favourite wine. Smiling and pulling out a glass from the same drawer, he began to pour the bottle's sweet contents into it, savouring the smell of a wine made to perfection. Standing, he turned to view the city. It was certainly a beautiful sight. Especially in the dark when all the lights beamed proudly into the black canvas, painting a picture of order and prosperity, the very definition of Nolon City.

Hearing a knock on the door, he turned on the pivot of his heel and set his glass down on the floor,
"Come in?"
A man dressed in finery walked briskly towards him, "A 'Secretary Mack' from Vemta for you."
Gerald would normally answer his own phone, but he had asked specifically for calls to divert to his team, just to filter out important calls, such as this.

Sighing and straightening his tie, he picked up his phone,
"Good evening, this is Gerald Night, Prime Minister of the Overlordship of Noronica, how are you Secretary Mack?"

[Vemta]

"Prime Minister Night, our warmest greetings!" Mack said cheerfully. "I hope I did not catch you at a bad time. Consul Dante Calicta would like to me to relay his greetings as well."

She paused and leaned forward, scratching her head a bit. "I understand sir that you are a busy man, especially given the recent developments. And it is for that particular reason I am calling. We'd like to let you and your government know sir, that the Vemtasi government stand by you and will support your endeavors in Arvan. The High Priestesses have also authorized the deployment of Vemtasi forces to assist in medical and rescue operations, as well as help with the humanitarian relief structure that will be set up should things... completely go downward spiral."

[Jahe Davmwoem]

Lieutenant Hekkelman sat in his bedroom, looking out the window. Not at anything in particular, just looking. And processing. Why was he offering himself to this nation? Anyone could see that its fall was inevitable. While Hekkelman felt that the ultimate purpose of a military leader, besides winning, is to avoid casualties, to say that that was his purpose alone for this would be nothing less than quixotic. So why was he there?

He was ashamed to admit it, but he was there off of a promise of wealth from the mob. Something in him had changed. He used to be a humble man. He was single his whole life, but never had felt lonely. His soldiers under his command were like family to him, and he would have taken a bullet for any of them. He had always sent his pay back to the military treasury, instead living off of what his soldiers lived off of. But it had all changed. And he hated himself for it.

He had been traveling with with a company to a village, and they all had been slaughtered by the mob. He told them to stay there and bury the dead, and he would travel back to report it. He had lied. He went out to personally execute the bastards. Over the next week, he had traveled all over the country, shooting them down, enjoying each kill. He finally tracked down Grieg Sonthers, and leap on his opportunity. It was the closest Sonthers, the mobs notorious leader, had ever come to death. Hekkelman was about to pull the trigger, then Sonthers spoke, in desperation to save his life. "I see the kind of man you are, honorable, fighting for the common man. What if you had the wealth to help all of them?" He had spoke the words that would change Hekkelman forever.

Meanwhile, Coninenbelt paced around in his bedroom. By god, I could use some firewine right now. The whiskey here is decent, but nothing like Imperial Firewine. He thought of his past found memories. Hunting with Pondes, may god rest his soul. Sniping at the rebels, concealed in the mountains. So many found memories.

He was saddened to think his nation was gradually becoming soft. The foreign powers had made it that way. This was his revenge, as well as a chance to taste one final glorious war in his lifetime. Not only would he help a small nation stand up to them, he himself could take the fight to them, without military regulations back home stopping him now. No, he was a free man. And with guerrilla warfare, there was no limits...

[Athara Magarat]

Atnaian Airspace

En Route to Arván

It had not been that long time that the aerial squadron had moved out of Athara Magarati airspace. A flight of three FM5 Seraphims, another flight of six Condor aircrafts and a third flight of six EF 58 Killa (all of these fighter planes taking off from different military airbases around mainland Athara Magarat) had joined with the flight of ten C-37 Guardians flying from Akar and/or Thakali Island. The squadron of twenty-five Athara Magarati military planes was now flying above Atnaian airspace. It was evident that anyone below could notice the large number of military planes flying together in a formation 3 km above from sea level.

The fastest planes, as in the Seraphims which could reach a speed of Mach 2.2, were flying ahead of the rest of the squadron. The Killas formed the rear and the Condors were flying in the flanks with the Guardians in the center. Each Guardian light transport aircraft carried 46 paratroopers from the "Magpies" airborne battalion of the Athara Magarat National Army. Most of them were veterans of the recent Bhikkustan-Vioraux War where they had landed on Akar and/or Thakali Island and made makeshift airfields in the little island during war-time. Whenever any conflict was to be solved militarily by Athara Magarat, they were the first ones to drop first into the battlefield.

Athara Magarat National Army had learned its fair share of lessons from the Bhikkustan-Vioraux War. Unlike in Operation Magpies Nest where they had sent Guardian transports unguarded most of the times and paid heavily for losing several of them, this time they had more than enough aerial superiority to defend the light transports and the paratroopers and launch aerial attacks on the enemy.

Major Phedap Moringlahang was to lead the military operations on the ground in Arván soon. Under his recommendation, the paratroopers and further incoming Athara Magarati troops were to be either the veterans of the Operation Magpies Nest or of core Kirati (as in only the Limbu, Yakkha, Sunuwar and Rai tribes which were the only Khas-Kirati tribes that spoke Kiranti languages; other Xrevaro-Lisaikan ethnic groups had their own lingual branches and were only called as "Kiratis" in history books or when discussing the Khas-Kirat identity) ethnicity or soldiers of different ethnic backgrounds who had grown up in Kirat Town (the only place in Athara Magarat where public schools taught Kirati languages as compulsory subjects). This was done to ensure that there would be no difficulty in speaking to the local Sunuwar minority who only spoke Sunuwar language (or maybe French and Nyssic) as unlike Athara Magarat (which had recognized around 200 ethnic groups and equal number of languages), Arván was not a multi-lingual and multi-ethnic state yet.

The Magpies were going to be the start to liberating the Sunuwar minority soon from the clutches of the racist and abusive Arvánan government.

[Noronica]

Region of Glasregia, Noronica

Let it not be said that Noronica would not answer to a threat to her sovereign borders. A nation had not been known to attack Noronica since the 1700's, so this was a shock to the whole nation. The United Noronnican Forces took only two days to mobilise, but seeing as the government needed to give their permission it had taken longer than expected, but now they were ready to take back their dignity from the little upstart.

To anyone watching the skies and the seas of Glasregia, they would have noticed what Noronica defined as a 'response'. Twenty C-130J's, and five Xìntiānwēng Albatross transport aircraft flew in unison, joined by five Vulture jets, ten P7 Águila jets, three Sparrowhawk jets, and four Boeing AWACs. Each aircraft held some of the most important cargo, the soldiers, the jeeps, the tanks, everything necessary to make any Arvanan in their way a fleeting memory.

Thousands of feet below them, the entire First Fleet sliced through the water. Two destroyers; the NOS Overlord, and the NOS Sealord ploughed through the water, two Tranquillity Class Frigates and one Duke Class Frigate surrounding them. The NOS Codsworth and NOS Montague Corvettes, lead the way forward, with a fleet service vessel, the NOS Titan Landing Dock, and twenty landing craft behind the fleet, filled with soldiers and vehicles.

To anyone viewing this feat of power, they would know that the country was ready for war and were not joking when they promised retribution. A total of 5,300 UNA and 900 Nyssic troops filled the transport crafts, all armed to the teeth with weaponry. The vehicles consisted of 20 NO-984 Fortress Battle Tanks, 200 NO-TP5 Tiger Light Armoured Vehicles, 300 NO-CO1 Coyote Light Utility Jeeps, 60 OSD-FV8 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, 10 BVS Amphibious Armoured Vehicles, 2 Titan Mobile Bridge Launchers, 20 CRARRV Armoured Recovery Vehicles, and 20 OSD-RA2 Multiple Launch Rocket Systems. This wasn't just a fighting force, it was an invasion force.

For the first time in over 80 years, Noronica was going to war with a foreign enemy.

[Jahe Davmwoem]

The Lieutenant and Colonel both heard about the coming invasion. They were also being lead back to the foreign secretary's office. The escort was in an obvious hurry. This had to be good. They had less time, but they would be unlikely to reject with a whole army right on the borders.

The Lieutenant thought that there was no more use for his services personally. It was lost at this point. But he would still be payed for his services.

The Colonel was excited, and did little to hide it. He had spent all night drawing up plans of resistance. He knew that knowing the state of the Isles, they would be needed soon. The foreigners would taste revenge. He had told the mob to triple the weapons they were bringing in. And out of his own cost, they were bringing in explosives, and homemade bomb making materials. This was going to be a hell of a time, and a great final bit of glory.

They walked into the office, with the secretary waiting for them.

[Noronica]

Lord, frankly, I've been a shit protestant. I haven't prayed in a long time and I have dabbled in debauchery, please do not let me die from this war!

Foreign Secretary Patrick dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief, wiping away the almost flooding sweat running down his face. He tried to smile when the three representatives entered the room again, but his face was too worried to form more than a horrified grimace,
"Please. Sit down."

The three sat down and Patrick began to speak in an almost whisper,
"I have decided to accept all three offers. It is no falsehood, Arván is filled with crime, so you may tell your mob to come here and do business. Second, I have accepted to both during and after military proposals. You will be paid Lieutenant if you train our soldiers to fight. Even if we lose this war, our soldiers will need to resist harshly, which brings me on to my final point, Colonel, your help would be much appreciated. Arván fully supports your offer of a resistance effort."

After speaking, Patrick slumped down and finally gave in to himself. The bags under his eyes were visible and his eyes were bloodshot.

---

"Oh not at all, this is not a bad time!" Gerald sarcastically grinned to himself as he slid his wine glass under his desk with his foot,
"The Holy Republic of Vemta's support in this matter would be highly appreciated. As you might hear soon, Noronica has mobilised its forces and the invasion force shall be in the Argean sea as we speak. Therefore, it would be prudent for me to ask for your assistance as soon as possible. I am glad to hear that you are supporting us in this matter, Arván is not only a trouble for Noronica, but for the whole Western Isles."

[Jahe Davmwoem]

"We are glad that you accept this offer, I will make sure that those foreigners curse those among them who pushed invasion." The Colonel was ecstatic. Which worried the hell out of Hekkelman. Oh god, what have we created. I thought the days of Jahe supported terrorism were over. But he only smiled, and hoped that he would have enough time to train the professionals, before the Colonel's training was needed.

The woman walked in, and whispered into the Colonel's ear. The secretary looked worried, not knowing what they were saying, as she spoke in the Jahe dialect of dutch. But he only looked at his and said "Do not worry, Patrick. She was only telling me that the weapons have arrived. With certain materials... well materials that are necessary for any resistance. Out of my own expense, may I add."

[Vemta]

"We agree, Mr. Prime Minister. Very well, I shall not keep you any longer. Our Defense department will be in touch with its counterpart in your government, and our hotlines are always open and ready to receive your calls."

---

National Headquarters, Vemta Military Forces
National Command Conference Room

The service chiefs started arriving. A special emergency meeting was just called to discuss an important mission. After several minutes, General Hawthorn Theodore, the Chief of the Military Forces arrived, and the others in the room stood at attention and gave him a salute. He nodded to acknowledge everyone and then proceeded to take his seat in the conference table. Normally, the Defense Secretary would have presided over meetings like this, but General Theodore had been authorized to conduct the briefing as Secretary Jordan was still at the Consul's Residence. The Vemtasi national command was just ordered to meet and finalize details of the newly authorized Operation Cold Freedom.

"Gentlemen, as you very well know, the Noronnicans have mobilized their forces are preparing to execute their invasion of Arvan. The Holy Priestesses have authorized Operation Cold Freedom, and we will also soon be deploying. The mission will see the deployment of 160 Vemtasi troops, particularly military observers, medical and support personnel and will focus on primarily support functions. It will be our first participation in a foreign war in several years, and represents a vital component of Vemtasi defense and foreign policy objectives."

The huge screens at the rear of the conference table then flashed an assortment of pictures ranging from satellite images and photographs of several bases, encampments and resources used by the Arvanan military, most of which were shared by the Noronnicans.

"The plan is to await the deployment of the Noronnican military and establishment a forward operating base. After which, our forces will be flown in by the Air Force and disembark in the base that is to be operated here.." An image then zoomed and zeroed in on a particular area "where the Noronnicans will be putting up there base.

"Our mission is to provide medical relief to Noronnican, allied troops and civilians. We will also be participating in support functions, such as reconnaissance, intelligence gathering and base and assets security."

"As soon as we receive word from the Noronnicans, we will deploy."

[Ostehaar]

Commander in-chief Daar Vortmer entered the meeting room and quickly sat down, signaling all the officers and high-ranking commanders in the room to remain seated. "Sorry," he said to the person currently standing for a presentation, "I had an urgent call. Please," he gestured towards the large display on the wall, "continue."

"Yes, sir," the young officer replied and resumed his monotonic lecture voice. "As I said, given that the main vector of the assault is expected to be from the north, it was agreed that our force would operate against the bases Rouge and Fluer. This means both striking these locations and landing or dropping close to them, within government held territories. Next phase is capturing the area in between, namely Alban."

"And this," Vortmer noted, partly to himself, "this is cartel areas, correct? I assume the plan takes into consideration the fact that these guys don't engage like regular army units."

"Yes, sir," another senior officer replied. "While we expect to take out the bases in a conventional manner, the plan does include the deployment of special forces to the cartel area, in hopes prevent them from attacking our regular forces at all."

"I see," Vortmer said. "Carry on."

The officer turned to the presentation again. "Yes, so currently the forces assigned to this operation are the following." The list appeared in order on the display, each unit with an arrow indicating its deployment area and its expected vector of advancement into enemy territories.

"Batches of Unit 78 for guerrilla warfare and Unit 57 for hostile territory forward landing will drop above Alban with the first wave of aerial strikes against the two bases. Batches of Unit 51, the airborne commando, will initiate the ground operations against those bases. Strikes will be executed by the 69th F-87 squadron, and will focus on the bases and on air defense units in the area."

"And we all thank the folks at The Institute for the information about those," the commander in-chief said with a casual smile, glancing at the head of the OVAST who sat in the room.

The presentation continued. "At the same time, the 9th missile flotilla is expected to reach the area north of Base Rouge and deliver their own strikes. Afterwards, before the early hours of the morning, elements of the 711th brigade will drop around the government held territories and complete the assault against government forces there."

The meeting went on for several more hours, with small refinements and adjustments introduced to the plan, as remarks and suggestions by all experts and generals were taken into consideration. The final plan was given the code name Operation Platinum before it was fully authorized by Vortmer, who would present it to the Prime Minister that evening. The wheels began turning.

[Vancouvia]

---

Argean Sea, En Route to Alimenter, Arván
First VNA Wave: Operation Melting Shovel
17:35 Local Time

---

"What do you think our friends the Osts are doing right about now?" shouted Private Mark Lemmings (to die in 32 minutes from head trauma), over the loud roar of the Juneau helicopter's blades.

"What??" shouted his friend Private Macintosh, slouching in his seat across from him, oblivious to his future death in 37 minutes from a gunshot to the neck.

"What do you think the Osts are doing right now?!" shouted Lemmings even louder this time, mouthing the words slowly as if Macintosh read lips.

"Oh! Probably all sitting in a barnyard reading Art of War, pushing those toy soldiers around on one of those big battlefield maps..." Macintosh made a motion like he was about to hit a pool ball.

"Fuck man, don't be dissing those maps. Those are cool as fuck."

"What??" shouted back Macintosh.

"COOL AS.... never mind!"

"Can y'all get the FUCK off the radio channel," ordered their Sergeant who sat next to them. He would die in 30 minutes from shock and blood loss.

---

Three helicopters down the line, at the peak of the V formation, rode Omega 32, the sole VSF squad accompanying the 15-helicopter strong VNA in the first wave of attack. In stark contrast to the young kids flying all around them, many only their first or second ride in a helicopter, Omega 32 looked at each other in silence, occasionally checking and rechecking their weapons or doing breathing exercises to relax their heartbeats. The sun sank slowly behind them, its orange glow on the sea a reminder of the beauty in everything. Their helicopter would be one of the few to safely land, but they would not be without casualty.

---

Usually, supposedly, the VNA wouldn't be anywhere near the front end of an invasion force, but the Vancouvian command was stretched unusually thin, with many units on Christmas leave or engaged otherwise. And so, a ragtag detachment of VNA was shuttled onto the helicopters and towards Gael, their greenhorn hands now blue with frost, their commanders confident that a beachhead could be taken without so much as a sneeze. When half of them couldn't figure out the helicopter's seat belts and had to be buckled in by the pilots as if they were about to embark on a child's amusement park ride, the officers had failed to notice. When 15% of them had forgotten to pack their winter field hats, the officers had failed to notice. And when over three-quarters could tell you nothing about Arván - it's language, nor culture, nor fighting force, nor even position on the map, the officers had failed to notice. What they did notice was that they were presumably going to be the first to set boots on the ground - a good 'ol heroic Crossing of the Delaware - this time with the great VNA logo to be plastered on the painting.

Sure there were warnings. When the first Yukon noticed unusual structures and defensive positions along the beach and in the town itself, VNA command asked for a second flyover. When the second Yukon confirmed the previous findings and found even more, VNA command cried unreliability and poor weather conditions. By the time the third and fourth Yukons had begun circling in the air, miles above Alimenter, their lenses capturing warning sign after warning sign, the "gears were already in motion" and those helicopters wouldn't dare turn around. A third couldn't by the time the night was over.

---

At first they thought it was a simple malfunction. Hail, or some sort of ice, some rough weather that led to a crack. But it wasn't snowing and smoke was trailing out. "Eagle 4, you have a hole in your back end," came the comically light response from Eagle 5 at the first sign of it. "Best get that patched up."

"Roger, Eagle 5, we are turning around to base." The crowd of VNA whined like school kids who had just found out it wouldn't be a snow day, calling up to the pilot, asking if it was really that serious. The pilot paused for a minute: they were only one minute out and all systems were presumably normal. Besides, the mission was at stake. "Second thought, we are maintaining mission status and will repair at site." Just as soon as they had radioed that over, their helicopter was struck with what seemed to be a missile, and burst into fiery chunks, descending rapidly to the sea below. The other helos close by swarmed out of the way, barely missing debris.

A collective round of "fuck"s and "shit"s echoed out from the VNA choir, their eyes gazed on the scene behind them. Soon a cry for orders came from the pilots, who sought any kind of leadership whatsoever from the VSF squad who had been de facto in charge this whole time. Captain Joseph Q. Malcolm got on the line: "All descend to 100 feet or as low as you can, spread out 100 yards between, break V formation and weave as you go, but maintain trajectory towards landing zone." No sooner than he finished the order did Eagle 11 and Eagle 12 get sucker punched by anti air flak. Eagle 11 was instantly destroyed, its fragments of men and metal falling in tandem towards the now shallower sea. Eagle 12 was caught wounded, its controls screaming, the pilots furiously trying to keep it afloat, when it began to gently fall towards the sea like a feather, before being swallowed whole unforgivingly.

When the beach came into sight, those remaining cheered internally for some hope of earth. They could now see where the fire was coming from; massive batteries along the entire shoreline and town, with the last remaining daylight providing a quick snapshot of their positions.

"Motherboard, motherboard, Eagle One. Am reporting a level five presence with improbable touchdown - how proceed?" called Captain Malcolm to HQ. The headquarters's response came five seconds later, with each second seeming like an eon-long delay. "Roger Eagle One - your call. Light stream 20 mikes out."

20 minutes for air support? Malcolm almost went into a rage. Small arms fire was now pinging off of his helo, and the beach seemed more distant than before.

"Men and women of Vancouvia," he spoke over the radio, hushing the cries of anguish and defeat. "We go down into battle today. I ask only that you stay behind me, and stay beside the soldier next to you, that you do not dare ease into the fight, but charge into it, shaking the sand from your boots and the salt from your eyes. Let us rally together now in the eye of this storm, rendering ourselves immune to its haunting tone; let us ride together now these last few feet and forgive ourselves for what we must do to the cowards down there. Let us do it now for the gold and blue, the Free Lands, our countrymen, VANCOUVIA!"

As soon as he finished, the remaining helicopters had reached the beach and shook the men from their trance. The pilots not wanting to land, they ordered their payloads to jump into the icy waves from two stories up. Many did, others were pushed, but soon all had reached the sea or sand. A scared soldier crawled up to Captain Malcolm on the beach, his face in tears and with blood rolling from his leg, which appeared to be broken from the fall. "My rifle is gone, sir! My rifle is gone, sir!"

Malcolm tossed his own down at the frightened teenager, then pulled out his pistol and scanned the area. He could see less than 50 able bodied men in the darkness, with many soaked from head to toe and barely able to find their footing. Artillery fire shook the area, and he could see pings of lightning from enemy rifles in the distance. He looked to his own Omega 32 for stability. They had already begun to fan out and pull survivors to their feet, gather submerged rifles and supplies, and begin the process of establishing a forward line.

"On me!" shouted Malcolm as he trudged forward through the soaked sand and brush, firing at the distant enemy. A young female soldier to his left charged ahead of him, until she was struck by a whizzing bullet in the leg. Another charged ahead of him, almost knocking him into the ground, and then took a bullet to the neck that would have hit Malcolm. The Captain cried out a deep and eternal yell, his face rough with rage, then kneeled down and looked at the kid's uniform for his name: PFC Gerald Macintosh.

"Radio!" yelled Malcolm from deep within his throat when he saw that his own was waterlogged and in-operational. "Radio!!" A kid ran up from behind him and Malcolm pushed him into the sand dune and into cover, then took his phone. Malcolm called HQ with a status update, listened for the agonizing news that air support was still minutes away, and then gave one last look at Private Macintosh in the sand.

"Fix bayonets!" The uncanny order was a shock to the men. "Fix bayonets!" came the response from Omega 32 as they reached behind into the packs and stuck the blades onto their rifles. Soon the order had spread through the chaos and all had donned their curved metals. "Dig in!" came the second order, this one met with more acceptance, as the men hurried to fix whatever foxholes they could into the dunes that surrounded them.

A young VNA sergeant sprang over to the Captain. "What the hell are we still doing on this beach Captain?!"

Malcolm struck him with the back of his helmet and pushed him to the ground. "Have you heard a god-damn artillery round in the past two minutes Sergeant?"

"No, sir."

"That means the enemy is approaching onto our position, you disorderly codmaner, now get down and dig in."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," said the Sergeant. But when he stood to turn around and return to his line, he took a single bullet to the skull and crashed into two other men, falling face first into their own hole, his blood and brains filling what they had already dug out.

"Captain," called one of his VSF men, "Permission to take a team and flank 30 yards east."

"Go," ordered Malcolm, peering down onto the dead and dying that now adorned his area. Squinting through the darkness, Malcolm recognized one of the faces, slowly crawling his way towards him - the kid he had given his rifle to when he first landed on the beach. "Sir, take it sir, it's yours sir," coughed the kid as he gently brought his arm towards the Captain. "Good night, sir," he wheezed with his dying breath.

Malcolm solemnly took back his rifle from the brave kid's hand and checked the magazine. Then he heard a whistle, then one more, then a loud series of them, haunting the night air. Finally, a row of the enemy emerged over the tops of the dunes and charged down towards his company. Aiming his sights, he fired at a clump of them, taking down several and then ordered the men within earshot to open fire into the darkness at anything moving. The whistles and men kept coming, one wave after another, the bodies dropping, enemy and brother falling on top of each other, the dead indistinguishable.

[Covonant]

Defense Control Centre-Ministry of Defense (Maxmum)
Coventry, Covonant

The Minister of Defense Batiatus Sula had called an emergency meeting which included all the generals and admirals and commanders of the branches of the Covonantian Armed Forces.

"Generals, thank you for coming to the Maxmum at this short notice, but I am sure you are all aware that Arvan to the north has been showing great levels of aggression which threatens the sovereignty of our ally Noronica. I have already had an audience with the Prime Minister who has the support of the Consul, and he has given me the go ahead to have Covonant military involvement in the matter." The Minister expressed

"Another matter we are getting tied up in Minister" Asked General Petronius Cassia who was the Commandant of the Covonantian Marines.

"Quite frankly Minister, why do we need to get involved in every matter that arises, are we so militaristic that we have to travel miles up north where it is bloody cold to fight a people who has not wronged us. I think I speak for everyone when I say that we just had a terrorist event, we should be focusing on domestic affairs before we turn to foreign incidents." Gen Cassia expressed.

There was a grave silence following Gen. Cassia oratory.

"Gen, I can assure you that the matter involving the domestic terrorist attack is being dealt with, but as the Prime Minister, the head of the Covonantian Armed Forces noted that we must aid those in horrid positions so they can taste the wonders of freedom and liberty, we have taken for granted here in Covonant. And might I express that you are speaking out against a move that is being supported by our Commander in Chief and the Consul. Now I did not call this meeting to ask for your opinions, and quite frankly your opinions does not matter at this time. I called you all here to inform you to ready those under your command from the Marines, the Navy, the Air Force, and the Legionnaires for immediate deployment to the Argean Sea and North Argus area commencing tommorrow. They will be deployed from bases around Covonant to our base in Corindia." The Minister informed.

"In front of you are reports outlining what is taking place in Arvan and Covonant's position on the matter. We are going there to aid in the overthrow of the Arvan government and assist our allies in assimilating Arvan peacefully under Noronican control." The Minister noted before he was interrupted by his Aide that he was expected at the Consul immediately

"Gentlemen and Gentlewomen (The Minister expressed trying to be non-misogynist), I must go I am summoned at the Consul. Good day" With that the Minister left the Defense Control Centre where he was accompanied by The Chief of Defense Staff General Claudio Machelli

"Fucking Shithead Cassia making unnecessary claims, trying to paint us as interventionist or worst yet Imperial militarist." Minister angrily expressed to General Machelli

"Be plain with me Minister, Covonant does not give two shits about countries practicing slavery or human right abuse. We have not commented once on the human rights abuse committed by Viourax so why now in Arvan, what is in it for us, power, land what?" General Machelli asked

"Isn't it obvious General, you have been apart of this force for years, surely you would know we have our interest and what we must accomplish. Covonant for some time now have been placing our eyes on that small island in Arvan, if we can get a base on that island, we could increase our presence in the area thus increasing our influence throughout this wretched Isles." The Minister explained

"But what about our base in Noronica?" asked the General

"Its a joint base, and you know joint bases can't hold much. That island can hold a large Covonantian base holding a great number of our troops. We have no presence in the North and we have been trying for years to get ourselves positioned perfectly there. We will not let this opportunity slide good ole Machelli. Now I must go, I can't be too late again for the sitting." The Minister explained and departed.

[Shanowinn]

December 26, 2016 12:48 Hours
SS Beach, Owinn Container Ship
Near the coast of Arván


Captain Aed Herisson stepped back inside the container ship's bridge from its outdoor deck, putting his captain's hat back on. He nodded to a couple of the bridge crew who looked up to see the new arrival.

"Alright, is there anything worth mentioning?" he asked the large windshields in front of him.

"Nothing pressing to report Captain. We're still holding true to our course and pretty much on time. We should arrive in Slevia and Dendara on time. Most of the crew is about to finish lunch in ten minutes."

"Good, thank you," replied Herisson, scanning the sea in front of the ship. He began counting the containers just out of habit.

One, two, three, four, five, six, sev...

"Do you hear that sir?"

"Hear what?"

"I'm not sure, a slight rumbling maybe? I think it's coming from somewhere below in the stern."

"Could be the engines, check with the engine room," Herisson ordered.

"Right then," returned one of the bridge crew, "Engine room, this is the bridge, report please, is anything wrong?."

"This is the engine room, nothing wrong down here sir--why?"

"We thought we heard something from the lower stern; that will be all." The bridge crewman turned to address Captain Herisson but instead another of the bridge crew, who had been outside, burst through the door.

"Captain!" he cried, "we're being boarded!" Captain Herisson and the others looked at him silently for a moment.

"We are being boarded, I'm not joking!" he threw his arms in the direction of the ship's deck.

Captain Herisson and others took it as an invitation to go out see what was the matter. Aed Herisson scurried outside and leaned over the railing. Below on the cargo deck he saw a man just coming up over the edge, with a rifle in his hands. A small boat glided just parallel to the ship coming up from the stern; the bridge crew could hear that rumble, as the driver gave it a little more gas. A few men aboard aimed rifles and even what looked like a rocket launcher at the bridge. Herisson saw more men coming aboard down below, and then a man on the covering skiff spoke into his megaphone.

"Put your hands where we can see them! Shut down your engines immediately! If you do not comply we will shoot!" Herrisson nodded to the helmsman, who ducked back inside to do the pirates' bidding. They put their hands up. The helmsman returned in a moment, handing Herisson the megaphone he kept in case he ever had to shout something to crew on the cargo deck.

"This is the Captain, we have shut off our engines."

The bridge crew turned their heads as they heard a few sets of footsteps clanking up stairs, and voices. Soon three pirates came in, aiming their automatic weapons at Herisson and his men. Herisson flinched as he heard a few bursts of automatic fire reverberate deep within the ship. He reacted without thinking.

"Hey! What are they doing shooting at my men, they're peaceful men--" he yelled at the pirates, subconsciously stepping towards them. Herisson felt a hand try to stop him from behind, but what really stopped him was a buttstock to the face. He grunted, and stepped back, a rifle barrel in his face. A minute later another pirate came through the hatch into the bridge.

"Thank you for complying--well, mostly, I see. You are the Captain, correct?" he eyed Aed Herisson.

"Y-yes, I am--why are your men shooting below--is my crew--?"

"My men won't shoot unless yours have given them a reason. Just like they wouldn't hit, without reason. Now there's no point in wasting time, tell me what cargo you are carrying. Don't forget anything. Clear? Do this for me and I'll check to see if your crew is safe." at this Herisson gulped, and nodded.

"Uh, cars, rubber, chemicals, tobacco products."

"Ah tobacco--we are in luck, easy loot, easy profit," the leader grinned to the pirates around him; he spoke into a walkie talkie then turned back to Herisson, "there, my men will make sure that there's nothing else, then we'll see about your crew."

This pirate leader sat down in Herisson's chair, resting a pistol on his thigh. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Heri flicked his eyes between he pistol and the man's face; his arms were beginning to waver, becoming sore from holding them up. The leader took a drag on his cigarette and smirked.

"Are your arms getting tired? Well, I suppose that you and your men here can have a little relief. Sit along the wall there, you don't have to keep them up but keep them where we can see them. I think you're all intelligent enough to know the result otherwise..."

Herisson almost felt like thanking him--but this man's men might've slaughtered my crew he reminded himself, shivering. The silent waiting ate at the Captain. But then the walkie talkie crackled.

"...all here..." Captain Herisson picked up. The uncertainty of his crew's fate was still at large and for that second between the "all here" revelation, and the answer, several scenarios played out in Herisson's mind. They were just finishing lunch and were too occupied, taken by surprise, they couldn't have resisted--but what if just one--it takes only one--

"And the ship crew? Any issues?"

This was it. More thoughts screamed through Herisson's mind. He swore that they were aggravating his wound.

"...nothing... It was just that one word that meant so much. Captain Aed Herisson's chest heaved up and down once like a winded horse. He almost considered thanking this pirate.

"And there you have your answer, Captain. No one has been shot."

The pirate leader went out onto the deck, and peered over the rail. He did this periodically for awhile, or corresponded on the radio, all the while the bridge crew sitting quietly. The final time, the head pirate slapped the metal railing.

"That's it! Boats full; as I said...easy loot, easy profit, no need for demands and negotiations, and no one gets shot. Thank you Captain...Herisson," he looked at the Captain's nametag, "it has been a pleasure doing such smooth business with you. Men, let's go."

[Shanowinn]

[OOC: I have a sneaking feeling that the airport is probably already claimed as an objective by someone else but I'll post this and change if necessary...]

OAS Erwan M. Alan, Royal Owinn Navy
Combat Information Center

Lieutenant Colonel Ciara Byrne looked at the map display. She glanced up at one of her subordinates in the 99th Battalion, Royal Owinn Army Mechanized Cavalry Recon.

"Much of the pressure will be coming from the North, correct?"

"Yes ma'am, the Noronicans and others, with some pressure in the southeast from Oster forces.

"Right, I'm thinking we ought to land just north of the airport which is west of Rippen. From there we should be able to storm the airport and secure it for international reinforcement. From there we are positioned for operations around Rippen and western Arván."

"I'll get the Osters and Noronnicans on the line for you ma'am."

"Good, we'll see what they say."

[Athara Magarat]

Island north of Mainland Arván

20:00 Local Time

The junior paratroopers couldn't hear what the officers were saying in all that commotion but they knew that it was time to jump down. The Eagle Force pilots of the fifteen planes (3 Seraphims, 6 Condors and 6 Killas) had and were doing their best to protect the 10 Guardian light transports from enemy MiG-23 fighter jets and deadly surface-to-air missiles. Now it was the turn of the Magpies to jump into the action and pay the debts to the Eagle Force for helping them.

The Guardian that Gray Company 1st Platoon was on was currently at an altitude of 5000m. Private Mimma Moyongba watched as her comrades jumped down one by one according to their number. Sherchan, Rantija, Devkota, Ironwall, Lahbung, Ghising, Teyung, BK, Gharti and others had all jumped down quickly one-by-one. And it was not long before Moyongba did the same. Even with the paratrooper gear and all, she thought as if she could feel the cold wind and its currents with her skin. She watched to look around and all she could see was raining men and women whether be it on her left and right or above and below her.

The military brass back at mainland Athara Magarat had followed suggestions of the Noronicans and ordered the officers to focus more on the island north of mainland Arván. Hence Blue, Green and Gray Companies (288 men and women of all rank and files) were to land on the island whereas the Gold-Bills and the Red-Bills Companies (192 paratroopers) were to land on various areas surrounding Alimenter, mostly the beach.

Alimenter was a suicide. Moyongba was somehow glad that she would be landing in rural villages with little enemy presence. The only major enemy presence on the island would be in the base in the center of the island. Compared to that, Alimenter was an enemy city and stronghold. There had been news from the pilots like sightings of fighting on the outskirts the city. Maybe allied forces have already landed on Alimenter. She prayed once again for the safety of her fellow paratroopers.

But she knew that all was not well. Athara Magarati planes were now returning back to motherland but a couple of them had been downed for sure. She cleared her mind of depressing thoughts and when it was time, she opened her chute. The woods and villages were now getting closer and clearer even in night-time. She thought of how warm the lights from houses and other buildings looked. She could also see the enemy military base at the center. The bastards probably know we will be landing soon.

She saw that some of those who had jumped at first had now reached the ground. For her as well, it was not that far for her as well. Paratroopers landed at different locations; in all sorts of places. Some in the middle of the crops, others next to houses and a few even on the roads. As soon as they landed, they wasted no time in doing away with the unnecessary paratrooper gear and equipment, bringing out their CR-15 assault rifles, growing with squad-mates and rushing ahead to the objectives given by the commanders. Allied forces might be arriving in the island as well, but the enemy would not just sit idle.

Finally, Private Mimma Moyongba landed on next to a scarecrow. She now had to regroup with her squad-mates Sherchan, Rantija, Devkota, Ironwall, Lahbung, Ghising, Teyung, BK and Gharti and join the battle to take over the island.

[Atnaia]

Gould didn't know if Doc was really a doctor. He seemed way too young, and Gould had once walked in on the guy watching videos of minor surgeries and taking notes. Still, he had never met someone with quite the same talent for stitches that left little to no scars. With a thick gauzy bandage slapped over one of his cheeks and a handful of mild painkillers, Doc had slapped Gould on the shoulder and let him wander away in a half-drugged stupor. He was a good kid.

It was shit outside of the warehouse, though. Hell, thought Gould, it's shit inside the warehouse. The place wasn't made for long-term stays, but that's what this had become. Gould guessed that somewhere between being investigated for the SOAR bioweapons and how fucked up the situation in Arvan had become, Armanov was panicking. He wasn't about to land any boats, and it was becoming increasingly unclear who the right people to bribe were. Gould didn't like it. Stability was good for business. Knowing what palms to grease was good for business. This...this was not good for business.

Still, Gould was nothing if not a creative businessman. He'd gotten his start in Coldwater workhouses, and there he had swiftly learned that in any shitty situation, there was always a need for someone to offer the things that made them a little less shitty. On his phone, Gould had made a list of what things were going to increase exponentially in demand.

Drugs. Food. Water. Alcohol. Clean and warm clothes. Blankets. First aid supplies. A way out.

The fact of the matter was that Gould and his boys may have stumbled into a bit of a gold mine by getting trapped in Arvan. Aside from the guests, the other components of their business were in smuggling and clean-writing identities. And that was when something had struck him. Ninety percent of the supplies that people were going to need in spades, Gould and his boys already had. At last check, Gould had nearly half a million dollars in cocaine in the warehouse, and that was just the cocaine. They had clothes, too, if Jessie stopped burning them. They also had a fair amount of water in the reservoirs on the roof, plus Doc's make-shift clinic.

Ideas had started percolating and rolling, and Gould knew what needed to be done.

In any shitty situation, there always needed to be someone to offer the things that made them a little less shitty. Gould knew the words "profiteer" and "bootlegger", and knew that he was suddenly in the market to make shit tons. But the real trick was going to be in the refugees. If Gould could get Armanov to start landing boats again, he figured that he could charge a pittance a head, say a hundred bucks, and start offloading people to Atnaia. That, on top of what they could make on the front-end by selling supplies and what they could make on the back end by pressganging the likeliest refugees into post-agency indenturement, could make this all a relatively profitable business venture.

But it required several things to work.

Firstly, Gould would need to grease the right palms, and he didn't quite know which palms those were. He would need a few crates of supplies to fall off the truck, so to speak, to keep his supply moving. He also needed to get in touch with Armanov, which had become a shit show in and of itself. He hadn't had signal in days. And that meant braving the streets to get access to some form of communication. Which again meant bribes. So, pockets loaded with Atnaian $50 bills and a swagger in his heart, Gould went to discover who he could convince to to become a helpful player.

[Noronica]

NOS Sealord, First Fleet
Northern Arvanan Waters

Captain Rodrick Pycelle strode onto the bridge, observing the action that was taking place. One didn't have to actually fight in a war to know what war felt like, as all one had to do was watch those on radios. People scrambled around, all completing various tasks until the Executive Officer called them to attention,

"Captain on the bridge!"

Immediately, those not pressing headphones to their skulls stood rigidly to attention. Waiting for a few seconds, enjoying the small amount of respect, Pycelle finally spoke, "At ease." Spinning on his heels, he looked to the Executive Officer,

"Anything of note to report?" He asked, dearly hoping for some sort of sign. The night sky had been quiet and he desired to see some form of enemy,
"None as of yet sir. We have managed to get some form of idea of what we are dealing with with the Yukons. If you would care to -"
The Captain nodded, allowing the Officer to quickly fire off orders to put an image up on an overhead screen.

"There's a lot being cut off in this picture." Captain Pycelle stated, looking rather annoyed,
"We tried to capture all of it, but we risked the Yukon getting shot down. We think that this is most of what we are dealing with, the person controlling the Yukon said that the areas south of the image seem to hold nothing but houses which would suggest that we have the bulk of the base captured here."
Pycelle still looked a little worried as he would not send this image to the soldiers on the ground, just for them to underestimate the full power of the base. Sighing, he decided to trust the person viewing the Yukon's feed,
"Fine, we'll send this to the Command. They'll show this to the troops."

Pycelle noticed a rather worried looking young operator, staring at his screen intently,
"What's wrong?"
"Sir! AWACS have picked something up on their radar. Various aircraft are heading towards the group. The NOS Nolon is set to send condors up!"
Pycelle's face was glowing as he began barking orders to various people. The fleet would be ready.

---

3rd Naval Squadron
Northern Arvanan Waters

Six Gr.7 Condor Fighter Jets flew in formation through the evening sky. The Squadron Leader Jake Harnhold directed the Condors towards their targets. A shout came through his radio,
"Contact! Six bogeys in formation. No ID!"

"Rodger Hammer, we need ID now." Jake waited for Hammer to respond,

"Bogeys are MiG-23's, are we cleared hot?"

"You are clear to engage!" With that, the Condors began their assault on the MiG's who were coming perilously close to the fleet's range. Jake chose his missiles to engage the MiG's and fired one air-to-air missile to a MiG in front of him. He could see flashes emitting from his comrades' jets in his peripheral vision, but he was concentrating hard on his target.
The missile connected with the enemy plane's exhaust and immediately he saw two jets of light blasting from the MiG, an ejection. He pulled away to find another target and began firing his conventional guns at another MiG closest to him. It managed to land a few hits on him, but Jake held fast and evaded the MiG, forcing it to manoeuvre as well, giving him time to engage again. He fired several more volleys at it.

"I'm in bad shape, returning home." Hammer called into the radio as he turned.
Jake saw a MiG locking onto Hammer, so he quickly pulled around and began engaging the MiG, attempting to take him off target.

Hammer began evading and managed to break the lock on him, so he began descending back to the Tranquility-class frigate, while the rest of the squadron finished off the other MiG's.

After successfully taking down the MiG's, Jake took the rest of the 3rd Squadron back.

---

17th Squadron NAF, Transport Aircraft
Northern Arvanan Waters

Major Hearth observed his Company of 120 paratroopers. He watched as each one expertly cleaned their rifles, ensuring that they were fit for combat. The soldiers had been briefed about this and they knew what to expect due to the imaging from various reconnaissance squadrons. He was rather surprised at the force being sent to Arván, Noronica was being serious when it said it was going to invade Arván, and Major Hearth would be happy to help that effort.

Major Hearth's platoon and another platoon alongside them prepared to jump, all of them looking energised and adrenaline-filled. As the overhead light turned to green and the siren blared, all of them began to jump. Major Hearth was one of the last to jump and as he plummeted through the air, he could see flashing lights erupting into the sky, all aiming for various Noronnican fighters who were trying to protect the paratroopers from SAM's and other Anti-Air batteries.

Once landed, the paratroops began their assault on Base Mer. They had landed several miles from the base as to avoid the more deadlier SAM batteries, but they were still close enough to launch a full attack. Major Hearth and his troops landed near a village that had been captured by UNA forces who had landed using the LCM-8 landing craft. Fortress Tanks patrolled the streets and various outposts had been erected to combat any force coming towards them.

A control centre had been set up in the main village hall where Major Hearth was instructed to go. It was revealed that the Noronnicans were awaiting allies before launching their attack on the military base as not to waste lives and to have a quicker take-over of the base. That did make sense, and if the intelligence reports were anything to go by, allies had already begun their attacks on several key points. Some were reportedly now very close to Arván and were set to arrive soon.

It was clear now that the Battle for Base Mer had begun.

[Noronica]

"We are glad that you accept this offer, I will make sure that those foreigners curse those among them who pushed invasion." The Colonel was ecstatic. Which worried the hell out of Hekkelman. Oh god, what have we created. I thought the days of Jahe supported terrorism were over. But he only smiled, and hoped that he would have enough time to train the professionals, before the Colonel's training was needed.

The woman walked in, and whispered into the Colonel's ear. The secretary looked worried, not knowing what they were saying, as she spoke in the Jahe dialect of dutch. But he only looked at his and said "Do not worry, Patrick. She was only telling me that the weapons have arrived. With certain materials... well materials that are necessary for any resistance. Out of my own expense, may I add."

"Ah, that makes sense, now I'd -"
Patrick was cut short as a shout came through the intercom,
"Sir, look at the news!"
Patrick swivelled on his chair and switched his screen on, immediately, images of Noronnican troops arriving in villages from shaky mobile cameras appeared. The headline at the bottom of the screen read, Noronnican Invasion has begun!.

Patrick quickly turned to the others,
"It would appear that your help is needed sooner than we thought. You are cleared to get your operations going, I would suggest you begin soon."

[Jahe Davmwoem]

"We are glad that you accept this offer, I will make sure that those foreigners curse those among them who pushed invasion." The Colonel was ecstatic. Which worried the hell out of Hekkelman. Oh god, what have we created. I thought the days of Jahe supported terrorism were over. But he only smiled, and hoped that he would have enough time to train the professionals, before the Colonel's training was needed.

The woman walked in, and whispered into the Colonel's ear. The secretary looked worried, not knowing what they were saying, as she spoke in the Jahe dialect of dutch. But he only looked at his and said "Do not worry, Patrick. She was only telling me that the weapons have arrived. With certain materials... well materials that are necessary for any resistance. Out of my own expense, may I add."

"Ah, that makes sense, now I'd -"
Patrick was cut short as a shout came through the intercom,
"Sir, look at the news!"
Patrick swivelled on his chair and switched his screen on, immediately, images of Noronnican troops arriving in villages from shaky mobile cameras appeared. The headline at the bottom of the screen read, Invasion has begun!.

Patrick quickly turned to the others,
"It would appear that your help is needed sooner than we thought. You are cleared to get your operations going, I would suggest you begin soon."

The two went their own separate ways.

Lieutenant Hekkelman drove to the nearest local garrison. He ran up to the apparent commanding officer. "I am Lieutenant Hekkelman, a hired foreign expert. I will suggest the following. Your best hope is to hold up in the cities. They will not think twice before bombing forts and airports. But they may think about the negatives of bombing civilian centers. I would also suggest splitting up your forces into squads of no more than five or six. This will force them to split their forces, and do more scouting than actual fighting. Any questions?"

Meanwhile, the Colonel had different plans. He told an officer to go inform the rest of the soldiers of the plans for resistance, if the initial war failed, which it would. Then he and the woman from the mob drove to a representative of the Arvan mob. He told the representative "This is your contact from the Jahenian mob. She will connect you to their business. But obviously we are at war at the moment. I am going to lead the army in guerrilla warfare once they wise up and realize they can't win this war with normal tactics. Then, there will also be a lone wolf organized terrorist unit. I may get 1000, 2000 tops out of the citizens. The rest I was hoping you could fill."

[Covonant]

North-East of the coast of Ostehaar

The Covonantian government had approved for the Covonantian Armed forces to take part in the bringing about freedom and equality to the Arvanian people.

Military men and women from bases in Covonant have been redeployed to KeoCon Air Force base in Keomora and troops have also been redeployed to Ailis Naval Base in Corindia. The ships with air craft and troops have already set sailed and are located North-East of Ostehaar on route closer to the Arvanan waters. Head of the Task Force fleet sent is Rear-Admiral Petronius Commodore

The Union on its quest to liberate the peoples of Arvan has sent 2000 of its finest and bravest men and women who serve as troops of the Covonantian Armed Forces. A Task Force Fleet approved by the various departments of Defense includes:

3 Destroyers (CD1-Emmanuel, CD4-Senica, and CD6-Arch Continental)
1 Missile Cruisers (GCC-2 Malvern)
1 Dock Landing ship (UCS Kanaute)
1 Amphibious transport docks (UCS-Elite)
2 Amphibious Assault ships (UCS Romast, and UCS Tranquility)

Inside the Control room of the lead ship, the UCS Romast, the 1 of 2 Amphibious Assault Ships sent as a fleet, Rear-Admiral Petronius Commodore was looking at the coordinates to ensure that all fleets were on route, at the same time he was maintaining contact with the other fleet travelling with them, among them were Corindian fleets travelling as well whom Rear-Admiral Commodore ensured to maintain contact with as they were noted and trusted allies of the Union.

While in the Control Room Pvt James Letkis entered.

"Rear-Admiral" He announced as he saluted. "A telegram arrived from Coventry to you, Sir" Pvt Letkis informed.

Rear Admiral Commodore took the telegram from the Pvt which read.

Rear-Admiral Petronius Commodore, you have a great task ahead of you that will secure your place in naval history as one of the greatest Covonantian seamen. Which is why I am confident that as you were successful in ridding pirates from our waters and bringing greater levels of stability within the Mesder by ensuring trade routes are safe, I know you will use your knowledge and experience to ensure a quick victory for not just Covonantian mission in the wretched Arvanian peninsula but in allowing our allies to reap victory as well.

You have two missions, one being more of a priority than the other.

That Priority is to ensure that Covonant is victorious in the capturing of Base Mer. That should be your only goal at this moment Rear-Admiral following that quick victory, ensure Covonant enables our allies to gain air superiority, naval superiority, and greater ground coverage.

The rest of the Union is behind you, and this noble cause. Godspeed Rear Admiral Godspeed

Batiatus Sula, Minister of Defense

Following the reading of the letter, the Rear Admiral ordered the men to continue on the course.

"Full speed ahead gentlemen, full speed ahead" He expressed as he sat in the Commandants chair.

[Polar Svalbard]

The end of the cigar glowed bright as the man inhaled air and smoke through the finely rolled tube of tobacco. He exhaled smoke through his nose and mouth, looking at his watch as he did so. The time read 13:12 back lit by a blue light which contrasted with the reddish-orange of the cigar tip. The flag on the side of his combat uniform was that of Noronica yet his facial features suggested someone of northern descent. He ran his black gloved hand over his buzzed blonde hair, looking out on the interior of the van through his cloudy blue eyes. Once again the tip of the Cigar glowed bright red as oxygen rushed through it as he inhaled.

As he exhaled he looked to his right where the operative next to him was mumbling something, as he looked he saw he held a rosary and seemed to be praying. He shook his head slowly, Operative Oslow Relcker was too new to this. Why would they send someone so young and inexperienced to this? Looking across the Van he looked at Operative Umaira al-Awan. She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow, "Tyler, why are you staring at me?"

Tyler shook his head slowly, "Naw, just staring off into space. You know no man looks at you, you're like a female crocodile. I figure they look at you once and decide they like their cock attached to their body." He smiled as he said that.

Umaira just went, "Ha ha," before she closed her eyes again, "At least men fear me, girls just puke when they look at you. That's why I'm closing mine, can't go into battle with a mouth full of vomit. And can you stop smoking in here, if I'm going to die I'd rather it by a bullet than getting cancer second hand from you."

Tyler exhaled a large plume of the smoke, "Hey at least they can say I killed you in the end."

The Commander snapped up his Satphone and looked at the three arrayed in the back and then the two up front, "Alright, we know the mission and we got green lit. Driver, get us to the school. Prep your weapons, when we get there we have to get in and get out as quick as possible so that we have the most amount to time to get out. Everyone understand?"

The newest operative in the group looked towards the Commander, "Sir, I... I don't know if I can do this. This, this is slaughter. These are innocent people."
The SMI-2 Commander looked at the operative, "You are right, this is slaughter. We are here to slaughter animals, we are butchers, don't forget that these things have been raping and killing each other for generations. They're disgusting, the Isles are better without them, and their sacrifice now will have a bigger statement than any of them could have ever made. Do not forget who you are, what you are. Only the strong survive and we are the strong, these are the weak, we are only helping mother nature. I don't ever want to hear second thoughts ever again, you are a Svalbardian, is that clear?"