Second Cedorian-Hoosier War (IC, MT, TG)

[The Hoosier Alliance]

"Nope, that's not what I was told. They said that communism only works in theory, but in the end, people don't like their stuff taken. So, things like the Soviet Union happens. The famine and all that. Hey...why are you telling me all this, anyway? I'm your guard, I'm a soldier. Why do you keep talking to me and not someone smart and in charge like O'Reilly?"

[Cedoria]

Cedorian Embassy to the Hoosier Alliance, Indianopolis
Ambassador Jen Kyteria was first alerted to the developing situation by a number of embassy employees, carrying a report from the gate guards. It appeared a group of citizens had formed in a Communist demonstration against the policies of 'President' Madison. Since Hoosier-Cedorian relationships had always been strained, it behooved Chairwoman Tizack to send one of Cedoria's best diplomats to manage the embassy there. Ambassador Kyteria was one of the best, although still an up-and-comer at the age of thirty-two, she was widely regarded as a potential future Foreign Affairs Commissar.

Thus, she quickly realised the implications of the events occurring outside. Part of her briefing for the post was to watch for events like this, and try to turn them to Cedoria's advantage. She nodded towards her staff.
"Are the exterior Embassy security cameras switched on, the ones that get clear footage?"
Her Head of Security shook his head.
"No, Ma'am, you ordered them switched off this morning, as per normal practice".
She nodded, smiling slyly.
"Turn them back on Captain, I think the world would be very interested to get a first hand picture of how President Madison's regime deals with dissent, even with his claim to democracy, do it quietly, discreetly."

The result being that, when the confrontation ended with the beating and arrest of several protesters, the Cedorian embassy had full video archive recordings of the events that had transpired barely a few blocks away...

Kyteria nodded, satisfied with her work.

"Get this footage back to Poras, with my regards, I'm sure they'll know what to do with it."

Poras, People's Republic of Cedoria

The footage that arrived in Poras several hours later immediately went to the Cedorian Informational Warfare Division (IWD), dealing with cyber and video related areas of security. With a quick glance at the footage, some skillful editing was done, so well that only the most skilled expert would be able to tell it had been slightly altered. Now they had full first-hand proof of Hoosier security beating peaceful civilian demonstrators in the streets, proof positive of Cedoria's position, that the brutality of the Madison regime made it's claims to democracy and freedom a grotesque joke.


With that, the IWD got to work, transmitting the footage to pro-Cedorian bloggers and paid government 'hacktivists'. They anonymously distributed the footage far and wide across major Internet services all across the globe, accompanying it with outraged commentary about the brutality of the Hoosier security forces. For the vast majority of citizens watching the video, it showed no signs of tampering, and the clearly-shown footage of Hoosier security forces beating civilian demonstrators was accompanied by widespread denunciations of the corrupt and illegitimate Maddisonian regime across international news and media outlets.

The propaganda offensive had begun...

[United States of Unfreedom]

"Because you will understand it. O'Reilly doesn't understand what is common people go through." said Brandon to the kid. "He was born in a different time. You and me? We are with the modern generation, we don't have to blindly follow what others tell us is true." he said, obviously hinting at something more.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

"Mr. President. I have something urgent to show you." An aide pushed through the door into Madison's office. "What the hell? Can't you knock? I'm in the middle-" "Sir, footage has made itself around the internet. It shows O'Reilly's unit assaulting a protester." Madison frowned. "A communist?" The aide nodded.

Madison broke out in a grin. "Oh, then it's all okay then. I'll give a spee-" "Sir, the international community is in outrage." The president shrugged. "I'll give a speech addressing both the people and the international community. Don't worry, I've got plan. It'll all work out, you'll see. Now, get out of my office."




Michaels opened his mouth, when suddenly O'Reilly walked through the door, doctor in tow. "I found him." He nodded to the private, "You can go. Get some rest, maybe some food." "Sir, I, uh, would rather stay with you and the prisoner. If that's okay with you. Sir." O'Reilly shook his head. "No need. I'll take it from here. This may require some experience, experience you definitely lack. Now, go rest." Michaels nodded, turned, and walked out. As he reached the door, O'Reilly said, "Oh, and private? Good job today. You did your country proud." Michaels froze for a second. He smiled to himself, opened the door, and left.

"Now, doc, patch this guy up. We did shitty job of it in the Humvee on the way here." The doctor nodded, opened the door with his key, and walked in the small cell. O'Reilly grabbed one of his arms through the bars and cuffed him to the cell. Then the doctor got to work.

[United States of Unfreedom]

Brandon shrugged his shoulders as Michaels walked off. "Thank you, doctor," he said, "where is your degree from?" Brandon asked. "Because in this day and age, a doctorate is hard to come by, especially since you seem fairly young." Brandon said, groaning through the pain of stitches. "Speaking of which, Mr. O'Reilly, what do you have in store for me? Life without parole with no trial? A death sentence with no trial?" he said, goading the officer. "Need I remind you, the United States Constitution gives everyone the right to a free and fair trial." he continued hoping to provoke a reaction.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Garrick Madison walked out in front of the reporters that had appeared for the impromptu speech. Nearly two dozen reporters from several different national news agencies, and even a few international ones, had showed up. It was also being broadcasted live on television. Madison cleared his throat and began.

"People of the Hoosier Alliance. Today, you have undoubtedly seen the video that has circulated the internet. It shows a group of Hoosier soldiers breaking up a "peaceful" political gathering. Those people were, however, communists. Or at least the man we detained is. We have not questioned everyone involved, but I assure you we will. We will leave no stone unturned. I will freely admit that I ordered the breaking up of the meeting outside the Cedorian embassy. I will not tolerate communists in our great nation. I will not tolerate socialists. You all know why. Every one of you remembers either living in socialist America, and all the crime, poverty, and starvation it brought, or you know of how those that do remember suffered. I will not allow the Alliance fall the way America did. Some do not like my hard stance, my usage of the military. I will not apologise for what happened. What I do is for the best for the Hoosier people. Yet, I fear it is not enough. I brought the economy back. I brought our military back. Yet, there are still homeless. There are still the poor. There are still unemployed. Yet, communism is not the answer. So, until further notice, I will not be so generous with communists or socialists. I allowed those that had gathered to walk free. Should something similar happen, that will not be the case. Any who gather in the name of communism, socialism, or anything similar will be detained. Later today, I will release my plan on the detained communist. Any information on any possible communist cells should be reported immediately. Thank you, and God bless us all." With that, Madison left the stage and let his press secretary deal with the reporters. He had a meeting with his generals to attend.


The doctor remained deathly silent, choosing to focus on his work. He didn't much care for communists. "You talk too much. Way too much." The captain sighed. "I don't know. I might question you. I don't know what will happen. You might be executed in order to show our tough stance on your ideology. You might be pardoned to show how forgiving we are. It really depends on how the president feels and who gets to talk to him before he chooses. Also, the old American Constitution has no bearing here. It is just some old relic in our national museum at this point. But you're right. People here do get free and fair trials..." O'Reilly grinned, "As long as they're not a communist." The doctor chuckled at this. Then, he stood up, gathered his items, and walked out of the cell. "Alright, he's good to go captain. If he needs anything further, come to me or one of my colleagues. If he asks for pain medication, he gets none. That stuff is reserved for loyal Hoosier citizens." The doctor then went to his desk to sort papers. "Alright," O'Reilly said, "Let's go. We'll keep you in a secure room until we determine what to do with you." The Presidential Guard opened the cell door once again and escorted the man to the room. It was guarded by two Hoosier soldiers. "In you go. I'll be back in a few moments. In the mean time, talk to the interrogator." Inside, the room had only one table and two chairs, each placed opposite each other. In one of them sat a woman a wearing black business suit with her hair tied into a bun. All she had was a clipboard and a pen. "Hello. My name is Mary. Can we talk?"

[United States of Unfreedom]

Brandon nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, we may talk, my name is Brandon," he replied. "I'm going to let you know however, that any information I have is buried deep in here and not coming out anytime soon though." Brandon said tapping his head. "However, if you want to know about me, I can give you as much detail as you would like," he said smiling. "I am a lone conspirator and I saw the corruption and evil of this government as unbearable," he said thinking for a moment. "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants," he said. All those courses in American history are finally coming in handy, he thought to himself. "That was a quote from Thomas Jefferson, if you don't know who that is," he said with a sigh. "Important American history is all but eradicated from this land, from all of North America actually. It is a shame." Brandon said, waiting on Mary's reply.

[The Yuktobanian Republic]

Archelan Commonwealth Headquarters
Nakazawa
Jaipuria

It was a rainy day in the largest city in the world, but this didn't stop the work rush of everyone. Traffic was still widespread, and people were still walking in the pouring rain to their work places. All in all, Nakazawa was a busy and important city. No matter rain or shine, it would always remain the same.

Next to one of the massive parks in Nakazawa was the Archela Commonwealth Headquarters. The sleek building was where the representatives of all the countries in the Commonwealth would meet. It was one of the largest buildings in the area, and also one of the most heavily defended. The building seemed to radiate power, and this was even supported by the fact that the building had orange lighting.

In one of the rooms of the massive structure, numerous ship captains were gathered. These people were the captains of different ships from different countries that were in the Archelan Commonwealth. There were captains from Jaipuria, Helmanstend, Yuktobania, Emmerinavic, New Germany, Southern Arendelle, and others. Usually, before large exercises the ship captains would be assembled and briefed. Not today. Today was different, since the people present in the room were chosen by Commonwealth Military Command themselves to form a task force. They didn't know what the purpose was, all they knew was that it was urgent.

As the room dimmed, a Yuktobanian Officer walked up to the front of the room, and tapped the board, getting everybody's attention. Gulping before looking around at the numerous captains, the Officer spoke.

"You are all probably wondering why you were gathered here."

Some people nodded, but most of them stayed silent, awaiting an explanation.

"As you have all heard." the officer started "The situation in Canada might reach a breaking point sooner or later. This means that Canada will become a war zone, likely between the Hoosier Alliance and Cedoria. Considering all our positions, we will need to support Hoosier once again, except this time we have changed. We are more powerful than last time, and the Yuktobanians will not go alone. We will fight as the Commonwealth."

"... So what if the war never happens?" A captain from Jaipuria asked. He was the captain of the JDS Munetami, an escort destroyer.

The officer sighed. "What Military Command says is that if we send a fleet over to Canada, then it might help defuse the situation and maybe prevent it from escalating to a war."

Another person spoke up. This time it was woman wearing an orange shirt, green skirt, and red headband. She had short brown hair, and in her hands held a composite bow. She was certainly dressed weirdly, someone that stood out from the group of captains. Although dressed weird, she was also the most important person in the room. Her name was Arcadia, and she was the captain of one of the newest carriers in her country of Yuktobania. She also shared names with the carrier, it being named Arcadia as well. Being the captain of a carrier, she would be the centerpiece of a fleet.

"So what is in this fleet that we're going to send?" Arcadia asked, looking at the officer.

The officer looked at his piece of paper, and then looked back at Arcadia. "Six Destroyers, two Escort Destroyers, two Cruisers, one Carrier, four Frigates, and one Submarine."

Another captain rose his hand. "Please list off the ships."

Taking a deep breath, the officer read off the names of the ships. "The destroyers are the Oured and Vellsloh of the Helmanstend Navy, Czrozny and Malhai Mountain of the Yuktobanian Navy, the Siedel of the New German Navy, and the Eagle Valley of the Southern Arendelle Navy."

The captains of the ships stood up as their ships were called. They all looked at each other for a bit before their eyes looked at the officer. One of the captains was a veteran of the last war, his name being Oplot Namer. When the Czrozny was called, he sighed as he got up and looked at the officer. He once again had to use the ship with the functioning AI again. Memories of the last war flooded his head as he sighed.

"For escort destroyers, the two ships are the Inori and Yuudachi of the Jaipurian Maritime Self Defense Force."

The captains of the Inori and the Yuudachi stood up. The captain of the Inori was Ayase Shimoniya, a brown haired woman wearing the blue fatigues of the JMSDF. The Captain of the Yuudachi was Tsugumi Tsukamoto, a black haired woman who was wearing jeans and a blue shirt. On her head was a helicopter pilot helmet that seemed to have cat ears on the top. Upon realizing that the two were called out together, the two captains high-fived each other before standing at attention.

"For Cruisers, the first one is the Yuktobanian Cruiser Jilachi and the second one is the New German Cruiser Kiesel."

Heinrich Kersting, captain of the Kiesel stood up, looking at the other fellow cruiser captain before looking at the officer calling out the names, joining the rest of the captains being called.

"The Carrier will be the Yuktobanian Carrier Arcadia."

Arcadia got up, looking at the other captains who were standing before yawning to turn to attention. She knew that she would be the fleet, seeing as how she didn't see her sisters in the room.

"As for frigates, the ships are the Menzanno of the Piatrian Navy, Sechsan of the Helmanstend Navy, and the Xichang and the Nizhou of the Jiaonuan Navy."

The captains of the frigates stood up. Out of the four ships, three of them were built with a focus on Anti-Submarine Warfare, making the fleet essentially multipurpose and able to respond to all the situations. Looking at the captains, people could sense the tension between the captain from Helmanstend and the two captains from Jiaonua.

"Last but not least, the submarine Nerpa of the Yuktobanian Navy will join us. This concludes the entire fleet."

The commander of the Nerpa stood up and looked at the others before looking ahead at the officer.

"This is the end of the briefing. You all will deploy to Canada tomorrow. If hell breaks loose over there, then you are cleared to call in more reinforcements."

"Alright." The captains said in unison.

"Dismissed."

North Atlantic Ocean
Off the coast of Canada
JS Yuudachi

"We got good clear on all systems." A sailor said.

"All systems are good." Tsugumi repeated.

The Yuudachi cruised quietly in the seas near Canada. Being Jaipurian, the ship's main mission was to escort the heavy Kongou-Class Destroyers and Atago-Class Destroyers that were equipped with the Yuktobanian AEGIS Radar. With it's combined 20 cell DV20 VLS system and 20 cell Mk-41 VLS systems, the ship was designed with an emphasis on multipurpose warfare, although it couldn't carry land attack missiles due to the Jaipurian Constitution outlawing it. In it's DV20 VLS Cells, it carried RA-77MR/E4 Medium Range SAMs, modified P-270Ms that can only attack ships, and ASW-4M DUPs with VA-111 Supercavitating Torpedoes loaded into them. For the Mk-41s it carried RIM-66Ms, RIM-174 ERAMs, and VL-ASROCs. The ship also had a 127mm ASG-5M Main Gun, as well as 4 HOS-303 Torpedoes capable of launching the Mark 46 Torpedoes, and two Phalanx CIWS for defending the ship against missiles. Coupled with an advanced radar system made by Jaipuria itself, the ship was essentially a mashup of numerous technologies from different countries.

"So, when do we get to shoot stuff?" Tsugumi radioed to the sister ship, the Inori

"Be patient. You should be glad we're not shooting anything. This is just a mission to show the Commonwealth's power here and to also aid Hoosier if necessary." Ayase replied from the other end of the line, from the Inori.

"Ugh!" Tsugumi yelled.

Looking at the radar systems, Tsugumi waited to see if anything popped up. The only things that popped up were civilian airliners and the occasional fishing boat and container ship that was heading to North America. Blinking for a second, she sighed, leaning back into her chair and straightening her helmet.

It was going to be a long operation.

[Caracasus]

Indianapolis – 1:47pm – Fort Harrison State Park


hsss-thwuk...

Golf. A bizarre game if ever there was one. Nwanneka watched the man swing and hit the ball far into the air, peeking out under his hands, shielding his eyes from the midday watery sun as it came in low off the horizon and attempted to warm the ground.

The game had never caught on in Caracasus, though the televised events had something of a cult following. The enormous use of land, water and maintenance required for the game ensured that only a handful of communes had been established with the development of such courses in mind. Nwanneka sat and waited in the gazebo. Rested her coffee on the white painted wood, the heat from the cup melting a perfect circle in the frost around the vessel.

The man who sat next to her, holding a rolled up copy of the local paper under his arm did not look like a spy, which was rather the point. Nwanneka idly wondered whether spies were portrayed as glamorously handsome young men and women in American movies on purpose for that very reason. He was of middling height and of that age where it was hard to say if he was an old-looking thirty or a youthful forty five or so. Balding slightly, and breathing heavier than he really should have been after his brief trek. His paunch and flab showed, even through the heavy coat. Not fat yet, but as muscle turned lazy over the years...

His face was unremarkable. Grey glasses, just a few years out of fashion. Broken veins around his nose that hinted at a circulation problem or a problem with drink. A five-oclock stubble shadow. His clothes were well made, but not expensive, not cheap either. Not particularly well ironed but not dirty either. Place him in any of Indianapolis's workplaces and he would blend in like a chameleon. A middle manager of some description.

“So. How goes things?” That faint drawl. An undefinable accent.

Nwanneka sighed. “Is this really going to happen then? A war in Canada?”

The man nodded. “It looks like it might. We're acting as though it will. Contingency plans.”

Nwanneka shook her head. “It can't happen. The balance of power is already...”

“It is in our favour. Cedoria must ship in weapons, supplies and troops. We merely have to walk. I need to know what Caracasus will do.”

Nwanneka laughed. “How many years have we been playing this game? How many years and you still don't get it do you? Caracasus will do what Caracasus decides to do. Support the rebels, stay neutral... we have a descriptive government. When it comes to war?” She shrugged. “When it comes to war it us up to the people.”

The man on the bench coughed slightly. “Which is why I need your unique insight. You said it yourself, you do not want war. How do your comrades” and here he pronounced the word with distaste, as if picking up an unpleasant piece of rubbish “How do your comrades at home feel?”

“They are... strained. The war you see... the ongoing Caracasusian commitment to non-intervention? Its days are numbered, Menthi proved that. Imperialistic conquest on our doorstep! And now?”

She shook her head sadly. “Now the people are voting in favour of Nineday House's requests for the construction of aircraft carriers and landing ships. Now the people are turning their attention to our allies, and what they have accomplished.”

The man tilted his head sharply. “A Shotel Class Caracasusian aircraft carrier. At current capacity, I'd say four years worth of construction. If our analysis is correct, and if Industry and Trade granted additional resources? It'd be eighteen months at the least. Am I close?”

“Twenty months. You were out by two months”

The man nodded. “Let us hope Caracasus remains neutral in this.”

Nwanneka shook her head sadly. “There are still soldiers. Volunteers. There is not a single stretch of the imagination that could class Caracasusian intervention in Canada as protecting Caracasus from invasion. Know what that means? Every soldier who chose to take part will be there voluntarily. Every last one.”

Nwanneka watched the man walk away. Thought back to the people claiming asylum at the embassy. It was not an unusual move, since the government of the Hoosier states had outlawed Communist ideas. The bans on homosexuality had driven more to the embassy, seeking assylum over the years. Such matters were usually dealt with quietly, with International Affairs not wanting a diplomatic crisis on their hands. Now though? It was true that no extradition treaty existed between Caracasus and the Hoosier States. It was equally true that the embassy itself was, in law at least a safe haven for those who had reached it. In reality however?

Nwanneka worried.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

President Madison walked to the meeting room with his generals. As he walked in, they stood and saluted him before sitting back down. General Houston remained standing. "Sir, this is a clear attack on the Hoosier Alliance. Communists, here, in Indianapolis. Clearly we need to crack down. I suggest we send troops out in force and search for any communist sympathizers and bring them to justice." Another general, the one that had stood against Houston when debating Canadian intervention, spoke up. "We need to get the facts first. We need to locate the communist cell before we go looking. If we look for them they will get spooked and hide somewhere else. I'm all in favor of getting rid of these people, but we need to look before we leap." Madison nodded. "I agree with you both. We have to do something. We'll have the communist interrogated, but I want troops to keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior. Bring any tips to me. Let's bring these traitors in gentlemen."


"Well, hello Brandon," the interrogator said, "I'm sad to hear that you won't be cooperating. You see, I don't believe you are a sole conspirator. I think you are part of a larger cell. Why do I think this? Well, we do have video footage of different people putting up your little posters all over the city, as well as eye witness reports. Now, please, just come clean about all this. We will find your friends. If you tell me where they are now, we can get them out of there with little threat of harm befalling them. It would also look good when you are brought to court. I'm sure I can get you and your friends some very good deals. I'll definitely be able to remove any possibility of death or life sentences as well as hard labor. If you help me, you and your friends will serve no longer than eight or ten years. Maybe even five. But, if you don't, I'm afraid that death or life sentences are a possibility for you or anyone involved."

"Well, Misses Interrogator," Brandon began, "I simply cannot deal with those terms exactly. Why would I trade my own liberty for the lives of others? You people see the world simply as 2+2=4, but it is not like that. If you want to execute me do it, but at least give me a trial first. I can give you names, but that is all. Some other communists in your communist-free society are Henry Garth and Daniel Webster. That's all I know. The hierarchy is larger than I am, simply so that we cannot give the whole thing away at one blow. So, do it, execute me. Make me a martyr. I'm sure the Cedorian embassy saw who was arrested by your military and I'm sure they will not be happy with me being executed for no reason," he said shaking his head. "I can tell you I am not a citizen of The Hoosier Alliance, I am a citizen of the Free State of New Mexico and I'm sure they would allow extradition to there," he said. "But if not, do what you wish with me." Brandon said through laughter.

The interrogator sighed. "If that is your decision...so be it. I cannot help you any further." She stood up and walked out of the room with nothing more to say to him. As she closed the door, she gave a small nod to the soldier on her right. They understood what that meant. As the woman left, the soldier gave his rifle, pistol, and knife to the other and entered the room. Brandon looked up at him. He opened his mouth to say something when the Hoosier grabbed his head and slammed it on the table several times. "If you will not talk the easy way, you will talk the hard way."
Farther down the hall, the woman stopped in front of Captain O'Reilly. "He wouldn't talk. I sent in the muscle. Those two will tell us if he cracks." O'Reilly nodded. "I'll tell the president. Thanks for trying it my way Mary." She gave him a smile and a small nod before they went their separate ways.

The captain met Madison on his way back to the office. "Ah, O'Reilly, good to see you. Did he give us information?" The captain shook his head. "No sir. The interrogator sent in someone to rough him up." Madison frowned, "Sad, sad thing that. Do you want to help question him?" O'Reilly nodded. "Very much sir. I want to help bring down this organization." "Alright, go on. I'll send an aide to inform the guard you're coming. First, you should go get something to eat. It's been an eventful day. Then go ahead and question the communist." With that, O'Reilly turned around and headed to the barracks and Madison to his office.

Out in the city of Indianapolis, Hoosier soldiers kept a watchful eye. Anything they saw or heard must be reported. Posters had been put up in busy areas in the city. Some of them read:
Communism is the mortal enemy of Freedom! Report Communist sympathizers to your nearest military detachment.

The Alliance was not going to tolerate communist dissent.

[United States of Unfreedom]

Brandon spit out a mouthful of blood on the table as the soldier smashed his head into the table again. “Okay, okay. I’ll talk, I swear,” Brandon said as the soldier started to hit his head on the table again. The soldier laughed and crossed his arms, looking over at the other soldier in the room. “Huh, so the communist wants to talk eh?” he said with a chuckle. “Spill it then,” he said. Brandon smiled before answering, “If you’re going to use brute force to crack me, at least use brute force, not weak force.” Brandon said with a small laugh. “It must make you feel good to beat up on people when they are defenseless. Do you drug your wife and rape her while she’s down?” Brandon asked rhetorically, laughing again. The soldier turned red and punched Brandon in the pit of his stomach as hard as he could. “Anymore of that back talk and I’ll break your fucking neck,” the man snarled at Brandon. Brandon grunted with pain and tucked down for a minute before sitting back up. “Please do, the loss of one pawn will not hurt our cause.” Brandon said wincing still from the blow to his stomach. “Why you little-“ the soldier began before the door swung open. In walked Captain O’Reilly, saving Brandon from another set of torture. “Hello captain, all seems well does it not?” asked Brandon rhetorically as O’Reilly sat down in the chair in front of him.

The captain shook his head. "You're stubborn. A lot like a Hoosier. I hope you know that the Alliance was founded on revolution against just what you're proposing. The only people that will fight with you are the homeless, the beggars. I need only point to places like the USSR and North Korea to tell you how your path will end. We will find your friends, and we will kill them. This was your last chance." O'Reilly stood and made for the door. "You'll come to regret this decision." As he left, he didn't bother to close the door. The two soldiers reentered. "I hope you know I won't break," was all Brandon had to say. The soldier that had beaten him earlier laughed. "I hope you don't." He punched the communist to the floor. He lifted his foot to bring it down on his head when the second solider stopped him. "Whoa, whoa man. I haven't had a turn yet." "Ah shit, you're right. Go on right on ahead," he chuckled. The second Hoosier walked toward the man on the floor and bent down. He whispered, "This isn't an interrogation anymore. This is entertainment."

45 minutes later...

The two men were beating Brandon simultaneously by now. As they made his existence a living hell, the woman interrogator came in. "Alright, alright, that's enough. You need to take him to a waiting convoy near the barracks. He's being transferred to Redemption." The two men laughed. "Redemption?" One of the soldiers knelt down and lifted Brandon's chin up. "You'll have fun there. That's where we keep the traitors, deserters, and scum like you. You know, the communists." As he stood up, laughing with his friend, Brandon spit blood on his boot. "Fuck you," was all he could get out before he was kicked in the stomach. Mary, the interrogator, stopped them from harming him further. "We have a schedule to keep. Let's move." The two men supported Brandon as they took him outside, around the back of the Capitol building near the barracks that housed the garrison. Four Humvees sat waiting for him, all suited up with soldiers and equipment. In the third vehicle, riding shotgun, was O'Reilly. He barely glanced at Brandon as they shoved him in the back of the third Humvee. "This all for me?" Brandon asked sarcastically, "I'm flattered. You didn't have to get all hot and bothered for me." "Shut the fuck up," said the driver. O'Reilly looked at the prisoner in the rear view mirror. "Why aren't we moving?" The driver asked. He honked the horn and yelled out the window, "Come on! Let's go!" The captain touched his arm to get his attention. "Calm down. We're waiting for someone." Suddenly, Michaels yanked open the door to the back and sat next to Brandon. The private looked at the beaten man and only motioned to his hands. Brandon stuck them out and accepted the handcuffs. "Now we're all good. Let's go," said O'Reilly. He gave a signal and the convoy moved forward. They were silent for a moment, until Brandon broke the silence. "Why is it called 'Redemption'? Weird ass name for a military prison." No one spoke. Michaels took this as an opportunity. "It's full name is 'Redemption Labor Camp'. You do hard labor and such. There's all kinds of shit there. Lot's of troops. They fill it with traitors, deserters, and people like you. People get sent to mines and stuff." Brandon didn't respond to this. He wouldn't admit it, but he was a little scared. What if the others didn't come for him? What if they failed? What if the movement failed? Brandon shuddered at the thought.

Hardy’s General Store, Indianapolis, The Hoosier Alliance
12:00 PM

Joe Hanes walked up to the counter, greeting the older man who stood there. “Hi, do you happen to have any hydrochloric acid?” Joe asked the man. “What do you need it for?” the store clerk responded, looking at Joe questioningly. “My class, chemistry, we’re doing labs and I need a good bit of it.” Joe said pulling out his wallet. The clerk looked him over for a moment then responded, “I can sell you 50 gallons, if you need that much.” Joe nodded and pulled out a $50 bill, handing it to the man. “Thank you,” the clerk said, ringing up the register. “17 cents sales tax,” he added looking Joe over once again. Joe pulled the exact change for the tax and handed it the older man. Just like a Jew, the clerk thought looking at Joe. Joe smiled and thanked the man. “Do you have a hand truck I could use to get this to my truck?” he asked the man. “Yeah, let me go get that for you,” replied the clerk, walking into the back of the store. Joe waited a minute as the man rolled the drum of hydrochloric acid from the back. “Here’s your acid, be careful with it,” the older man said suspiciously. “Thank you, have a good day,” Joe replied, wheeling the 50-gallon drum to the truck that had Yurick Hairston waiting inside.

“Come help me put this in here,” yelled Joe through the window. “Yeah, yeah,” replied Yurick getting out of the truck. The two men paused for a moment as a small squad of Hoosier soldiers walked by, glancing at them. The two men nodded and continued with loading the acid into the truck. Now all we need is intel and the right time, Joe thought to himself as they finished strapping the drum down in the bed of the truck.

The Westin Indianapolis, The Hoosier Alliance
1:00 PM

The effort it took to get the 50-gallon drum to the hotel room was tremendous. “I feel like I’ve got the back of a 90-year old man now,” stated Yurick rubbing his lower back. “You’ll be fine, now help me dump this and get your mask on,” said Joe slipping the odd mask over his face. The mask, a relic from the Hoosier War for Independence, obscured the mens’ vision and made breathing difficult, but it would keep them from killing themselves from the inside out. The contraption they had rigged together was remarkable. A large, enclosed kettle of sorts with a PVC pipe running out of the top sat in the middle of the hotel room. Located under the bottom of the kettle was a large electric heating element that would heat the solution and gas up, forcing it out of the kettle through the PVC pipe to the metal gas canister connected to the other end of the PVC pipe. It wouldn’t be the most potent of gases, but it will definitely do the trick. As the two men tipped the drum of hydrochloric acid into the solution of bleach waiting below, Joe could already hear the tell-tale sounds of a chemical reaction. Once they had finished filling the kettle up, they quickly closed the improvised filling port and turned on the heating element. The metal canister holding the gas was submerged in a pool of ice water, cool enough to compress the gas, yet warm enough to keep it from liquifying. As more and more gas filled the container, Joe thought to himself, now all we need is to figure out where Brandon is.

[Cedoria]

Poras, People's Republic of Cedoria
A formal vote was taken, the Central Committee had voted overwhelmingly in favour of support for the Canadian rebels. Weapons and monetary shipments were being prepared and would soon be forthcoming. Chairwoman Tizack had ordered People's Intelligence Agency operatives into Canada to establish formal contact with the rebels and discreetly offer Cedorian support. Once that was done, the Cedorian naval taskforce would deploy into the North Atlantic for 'training exercises' near the former US state of Alaska, and, covering the official nature of their mission, would provide a corridor for Cedorian supply ships to the rebels.

For now however, Chairwoman Tizack publicly ramped up the propaganda war, accusing the Hoosier regime of torturing peaceful civilian dissenters. Her press conference was broadcast around the world, and concluded with the statement.

"The disappearance of pro-democracy activists off the streets of Indianopolis show how hollow and corrupt the Madison regime really is, the Hoosier Alliance claims the mantle of democracy and freedom, yet it crushes dissent under an iron boot when ever anybody out of power mentions democracy..."

Cedorian diplomats managed to leverage this campaign to force some other nations to impose economic sanctions on the Hoosiers, all part of the common geopolitical game. With the Hoosiers on the propaganda defensive, it would be more difficult for them to justify intervention in Canada...

[Caracasus]

Poras, Cedoria.

The meeting room had once, a long time ago in Cedoria's past, served as a wing of the royal palace. Now only the large windows and polished wooden floor gave witness to a past, an enemy long banished from Cedoria. Markus's footsteps echoed as he approached the large, burnished steel table and took his seat.

Bronzed busts adorned the wall, half set in alcoves at eye height. Each depicted some great revolutionary from Cedoria's past; scientists, poets, generals and leaders. The bronze men and women all in the same pose, staring defiantly into the distance, slightly upward and slightly to the left. As if gazing at some far off place that must be reached. Markus was taller than average, the positioning of the busts giving him the disconcerting feeling that the great and good of Cedoria were gazing up his nostrils as he walked past.

“So. I noticed your news. Our poor friend Brandon. How close was he to reaching the embassy?”

The woman grimaced. “Not close enough damnit. Still, we have managed to make the most of the situation. He's likely being tortured as we speak... if Cedoria's experts on the Hoosier State are correct he will be looking at lifetime imprisonment in a labour camp or execution.”

“So a martyr. Fitting.” Markus sighed. “I am guessing I am not here to discuss the five hundred year plan?”

“Rest assured Mr Hepp, we have our very best people looking into Caracasus's plans... but no. I am afraid I must ask something of you.” A uniformed Cedorian walked through the vast antechamber, the heels of his boots clacking across the wooden floor. He placed a datatab on the desk between them and smartly stood to attention before walking away once more.

His boots echoed as he left. She began.

“Sixteen Hoosierans have claimed asylum at the Caracasusian embassy. Not counting the... uh” briefly she scanned the device. “twelve family members and partners of these sixteen. I take it this asylum will be granted?”

Markus shrugged. “I imagine so. They have a real and justifiable fear of arrest, torture and death based on their political opinions. The process will take several weeks to complete... but I imagine that they'll be on their way to Caracasus within a couple of months.”

“We don't have a couple of months Mr Hepp. Cedoria is winning the propaganda war at the moment, but it honestly will not take much for the Hoosier States to undermine our message. Brandon had a gun. Did you know that? They'll forge, or uncover links to extremists – brand him a terrorist. Hell, they'll probably say he was planning an attack on the Cedorian embassy to start a war...”

Markus folded his arms. “And you need more faces of the oppression? More... sympathetic witnesses?”

“It doesn't have to be professionally done you understand. In fact, it might be better if it is not... just find some recording equipment. Get their stories. Capture their fear... the fear of their government. Do that for us, and it's not just one young fool with a gun any more... it's innocent men, women and children forced to abandon everything.”

Markus frowned. “And those asylum seekers? What happens to them? The Caracasusian embassy in Indianapolis has exactly twelve Internal Security officers. They carry neuroinhibitor cannon for the most part... maybe some light firearms. How are we supposed to protect those under our care?”

“The Hoosier States will not risk starting a war over these people.”

“I hope you are right.” He sighed. “I will report back to International Affairs but...”

[Pherdistan]

Daily Newswire

---

Hoosier frontier closed over international outcry

INDIANAPOLIS, Hoosier Alliance- Joining the ranks of those outraged at incriminating footage of Hoosier government officials beating and jailing opposition communist protestors, Prime Minister Arnold Harper condemned the footage, stating that "dissent is priceless to democracy" and that "such naked oppression of opposing views cannot be tolerated by anyone who professes freedom and liberty." In response and on the Prime Minister's advice, the Governor-General ordered the suspension of all border transit between Canada and the Hoosier Alliance for 24 hours, beginning tomorrow. While the Hoosier President is expected to react vehemently, the Prime Minister has said that "if we can contain the ongoing protests shaking our nation without resorting to violence or oppression, so can our friends and allies in the Hoosier Alliance."

---

Yukon Premier to negotiate with anarchist 'Strange Tendency' group

WHITEHORSE, Yukon Territory- Following a conference between Premier Thomas Arlsborough, Prime Minister Arnold Harper, the Governor-General and the Yukon Lieutenant-Governor, the Yukon Premier held a press conference in Whitehorse announcing that he intended, despite the challenges presented, to try and negotiate a settlement between the Canadian government and Strange Tendency, an anarchist group that claimed responsibility for a series of bank robberies in Dawson City.

"While we will always condemn the use of violence to further the goals of a political ideology, we believe that a resolution to the issue can be arrived at without further unrest and disorder," said the Premier. While Arlsborough insisted that he had taken the initiative to attempt to conference with the anarchist group, many suspect that the Prime Minister put pressure on Arlsborough to negotiate with the group, so as to prevent the deployment of RCMP officers to the region while they are needed elsewhere to counter mass protests.

Although the Premier was tight-lipped about what exactly the conference would entail, Arlsborough did specify that possible solutions included allowing a referendum in each township as to whether they should become an independent commune, as well as requiring Strange Tendency to disarm. When questioned as to whether the group, which has previously stated that "there will be no negotiation" in achieving their goals would actually be amenable to a peace conference, Arlsborough seemed to falter, and attacked the press for "their unmitigated pessimism." The Canadian Treasury has since reimbursed depositors for the lost funds.

---

Protests begin to slow down; British Columbia sole province 'locked down'

VANCOUVER, British Columbia- Showing signs that the ongoing protest movement is heavily divided, lacks a strong, unifying message, and has any good organizational ability, demonstrations against the government have declined, and federal authorities have begun transferring special RCMP units out of Alberta, the only other province that had previously been experiencing serious unrest. Most of those units were redeployed to British Columbia, and the increased police presence seems to have resulted in lower turnouts and a more civil crowd. While at its height the protests were estimated to have had over a million daily participants, this number has since fallen to below 100 000, mostly in British Columbia. Prime Minister Harper stated that he intended to begin removing any remaining emergency measures and legislation currently in force across Alberta and British Columbia with the exception of Vancouver, which continues to be in gridlock from the protests.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Reporters have gathered to question the Hoosier press secretary on details involving the recent shooting and capture of the communist.
"Thank you all for coming today," he began, "We are here for an obvious reason. To discuss the shooting, as well as the propaganda coming out of Cedoria. First, I would like to point to the dangers posed by this communist. He arrived to the area with a concealed firearm and drew it after trying to flee the scene. He was also headed toward an embassy. To commit a terror attack? We don't know. Lastly, he took a soldier, a captain, hostage. A captain that is shown trying to negotiate with him. This is shown on video taken from phones. On top of this, he was able to illegally enter our nation from New Mexico. As we all know, the border is very secure. How do you think he got in here? Clearly with a network of people already here. This is not an innocent man. He is likely a terrorist. We have reason to believe there are more of them in Indianapolis, thus the increase of security forces."
"I also want to speak out against Cedoria. Cedoria had the nerve to label this man, this terrorist, a "pro-democracy" activist. Communism takes away elections. Just look at Cedoria itself. They crush dissent of all kinds. When was their last real election? If the international community listens to them, they'll be supporting an oppressive regime. Now, I want to point out, to Cedoria and the communist terrorists in this nation, that we fought a war to rid ourselves of exactly what they want to enforce. The Hoosier Alliance lost sons in massive numbers to fight off the oppressive socialist regime that had us starving. That left us to fend for ourselves. That stole our property and freedoms. Garrick Madison himself lost a son, fighting in southern Indiana to keep American forces out of our homeland. How many more people do they want to die? How many more sons, daughters, fathers, and mothers have to die to bullets or lack of food? These people and these policies will send us back to exactly where we started. Destitute, starving, and in the middle of a civil war. That is all. Thank you for coming."


Redemption Labor Camp, just outside Indianapolis
The small convoy rolled into the labor camp. The front gate was a chain link fence guarded by half a dozen men. To either side were sandbags protecting two fifty caliber machine gun emplacements. One gunner and two assault rifle wielding men sat at each station. The gate was opened and the Humvees continued down a short gravel driveway, flanked by more fencing and ending with another gate. The gate behind them closed and the one in front opened. They drove into a wide area, built to hold parked prison buses. Two men, armed with combat shotguns, stood guard beside the main door.

The soldiers, except the drivers and gunners, exited the vehicles. Brandon was shoved toward the entrance way. As they approached, the two prison guards punched the code into the door and let them in. Inside, guards stood on the ground floor and catwalks above. They were armed with combat shotguns and M16A5s and riot gear. Already, a unit was waiting to take Brandon to the cells along with a few other arrivals. O'Reilly said nothing as he pushed Brandon into the back of the last prisoner. There were five of them, not counting Brandon. The group was sent through metal detectors and searched by guards as they walked forward. If one of the slowed down, they were struck with a baton or the butt of a rifle.

They walked down a hallway that had no doors except at the end. Catwalks on both sides held guards every ten or so feet. The door was opened once they reached it. Inside, yet another straight hallway, this time though it was filled with cells, most of which held people. As they passed through the large double doors, they were handed orange jumpsuits. By the time the third man entered, most of the men in the cell block turned to face them. There were whoops and hollers as they walked toward the stairs that lead to the second of the three levels in the block. Sarcastic greetings were shouted at them. Half hearted attempts by the guards to quiet them did little. "First day of Paradise?" "Look boys, fresh fish!" "Bet'cha ten bucks the last one doesn't make it a week!" The group was split into three groups of four, two going to the area on the left, four going to the right. Brandon was put into a cell with a tall, muscular man that had been in front of him during their march. They were instructed to put on their outfits and give the guard their clothes. Once that was completed, the officer in charge of the cell block got everyone's attention.

"Alright, you disgusting animals. I give this same speech every time there's a new arrival, so don't feel special. I don't care what you did, or why you did it. All I know, is that my job is to make your life a living hell. This is not a rehabilitation program. You have been dubbed too dangerous to be released except for very special reasons. You will work, producing money to keep our paychecks coming. There's a mine, just outside this prison, in need of people to do dangerous work. Just so happens, that we have people that will do just that. You will get your hour of time in the yard. Also know, that if you fuck up, you will be either thrown in solitary confinement, beaten, or both. Probably both. Who am I kidding? It will be both. Now, newbies, get some sleep. You'll need all your energy just to survive. Good night." With that, the lights were dimmed.

The man that was put inside with Brandon claimed the bottom bunk. As he laid down, he saw Brandon was still looking out of the bars. "What are you doing?" Brandon shook his head. "There's no window. I've got nothing else to look at." The man just watched him for a minute. "I'm Henry." Brandon looked at him sideways. "What're you in for?" Brandon asked. "I took the fall for my brother. He's gay. They would have sent him somewhere else, but he hit some soldier boy with a chair, knocked 'im out cold and fractured his skull. I knew they'd send him here, to Redemption. So, I took the fall. My brother's only seventeen. Luckily, the guy he attacked was in the hospital for the trial, so he couldn't confirm that I was really Henry and my brother was really Kyle. What about you?" Brandon climbed up into the top bunk. There was only the bunk and a toilet. "I'm a communist," was his reply.

The Westin Hotel, Indianapolis
4:00 PM
Joe and Yurick were just finishing screwing the lid onto the gas cylinder when Nigel, the last member of the group bursted through the door to the hotel. “Who do you think you are coming-“ started Joe as he turned around. “It’s me! I saw him!” said Nigel out of breath. “What? Brandon?” Joe replied. “Yes! There was a military convoy rolling by as I was coming here and I saw him through the window,” said Nigel smiling, “They were on the way to the Redemption prison camp.” “They think they can outsmart us, but we’re smarter than them,” Joe said with a chuckle. “We just finished this puppy,” he said patting the gas cylinder. “300 cubic feet, plenty to do the job,” butted in Yurick. “Very much so,” responded Nigel.
“Now, did you find the truck?” asked Joe. “Yeah I did. Wanna know the best part?” asked Nigel. “Hit me,” replied Joe. “There were some government work order forms in it,” said Nigel glowing with anticipation. “Work orders for…” said Joe confused. “Work orders for air conditioning repair in the Redemption work camp..tonight,” said Nigel smiling deviously. “Oh really now?” said Joe shocked. “Well, looks like we should get going then shall we?” said Joe to the men.

Redemption Work Camp, The Hoosier Alliance
5:00 PM
“A communist?” the man, Henry, asked questioningly. “Yes, don’t you see what is wrong with all of this?” asked Brandon waving at the surroundings. “A work camp for bad people, what’s wrong with that?” the man asked him. “It doesn’t have to be like this, oppression and all that,” Brandon replied. “Why wouldn’t they put criminals like me… and you in a place like this?” the man asked with disgust. Brandon just shook his head and stared at the bars. Hopefully I won’t have to smother him in his sleep, Brandon thought to himself.
"Your brother shouldn't have to hide who he is in a democratic society. You may think you know what communism is, but trust me you don't," replied Brandon. "Yes I do, it's what destroyed the United States," said the man rolling his eyes. "I see...and what the Hoosier Alliance calls democracy is democracy? Just like what the United States called communism?" replied Brandon looking back at the man. Henry began to speak, then shut his mouth and turned around.

[Caracasus]

Caracasusian Embassy to the Hoosier States - Gymnasium/emergency sleeping area

The Cedorians had arrived halfway through filming. The Caracasusians had offered the sixteen asylum seekers the choice. Speak about why you are here or don't. It had been said, and reinforced that it would not influence their asylum application but these sixteen were naturally suspicious of government and authority. They would not be here if they were not. Still, Nwanneka was relatively satisfied that the six that had chosen to speak had done so of their own free will. Mostly.

The Cedorians were perusing the recordings. Two were terrible. Their stories were recorded but they had no aptitude for speaking to a camera. One thought he did, and that made things worse. The entire recording was more like an amateur dramatics performance at a particularly isolated commune than an interview. No doubt it would be discarded, or cut to what few parts made sense. The other, a young woman, simply clammed up. She had the right face - open, an ageless quality to it, pretty but not overly so... but she simply lacked presence. She spoke in a low tone, simple, single word answers and asked for clarification for every question.

One though... he was a natural. Even down to the rough, yet well ironed shirt that had been repaired methodically but crudely. He spoke with a slightly haltering, rolling rhythm. Disjointed enough to be genuine, reflective. Flowing enough to be coherent. Dust motes from the gymnasium played in the lights behind him as he spoke, the Cedorians and Caracasusians alike watching.

"Thing is, we don't want to destroy everything. That's not the point, all we're doing is asking if maybe there's a better way of running things. I've been told all my life about the evil commies and how they lock up poor, godfearing folks, but it ain't true. Caracasus don't - sorry doesn't lock folk up for what they believe or don't believe. I mean they take some getting used to - I've never seen so many arguments since I got here... and no offence but the food's a bit on the hot side for me but... they're looking out for each other. Reminds me of the unions before... before they went."

The man sighed. "Look, here we are. We make bombs and guns to protect ourselves. For what? What are we protecting? Know what Caracasus makes? Medicines. Four years back my little girl got sick. Real sick. It uh... it was in her blood and the insurance didn't cover it. We couldn't afford the meds so me and my brother took our car down south, past the border and stocked up on 'em. Cost a paycheck but we got enough to see her through. Mexico imports meds from Caracasus you see... I didn't know that till I got home and saw that damn elephant of theirs on most of the boxes. That elephant and those silly commune names they give themselves? They saved my daughter. My government woulda locked us both up and left my daughter to die for what we did. How is that fair? What, when you get right down to it, are we protecting? Because more than a few of us are wondering if Madison isn't protecting himself from us. "

The Cedorian gave a low whistle. "That there. That my friend is what we can run with. All that natural?"

The Caracasusian sighed. "Yep. You're using them, you know that right? Whatever spin you put on this, however you justify it to yourself that man, every man woman and child in this compound is now in a little more danger than they were before. As for his family... his brother? The one he mentioned? He's not with us. Want to think about what might happen to him if you release this?"

"The ends can justify the means Comrade. Providing the ends are worth it."

"Are they?"

"Poras thinks so. I think so."

"I hope you are right."

[Strange Tendency]

Strange Tenancy soldiers preparing to liberate funds from an armoured truck

The Articles of Yukon

This document lays out the establishment of a federal collective of communes to replace the oppressive and impotent government in Yukon.

1. The bureaucracy and administrative arm of the state is no longer able to form a cohesive state. As such it is abolished.
2. All criminal courts and matters of justice are suspended and will be replaced by the collective will and judgement of individual communes.
3. Payment of tax, mortgage, loans and rent is suspended. In its place, whilst the struggle against the forces of the state continues, a revolutionary tax will be established, with levels to be set by local commune councils based on ability to contribute.
4. All machinery of state will be taken on by communes, with each commune overseeing the matters of governance required at a commune level.
5. Any inter-commune matters such as justice applied to crimes committed in more than one commune or the defence of the federation will be handled by the Yukon Revolutionary Convention. Members from each commune will be nominated and voted upon, with immediate recall available to their commune of origin.

There is nothing the state can offer that it has not first taken from us. To arms!

Strange Tenancy soldiers help settle a dispute regarding unpaid wages

Good morning Yukon! Smell that? Okay, not [i]that. Not the pigshit on the fields, the other smell. That is the smell of your future.

While the government battles the Cedorian backed Marxist Leninist forces to our west, while the Hoosier States sends advisors and guns to prop up the corpse of the government and make it wag its hands realistically, and while Caracasus sits on its collective thumbs, Strange Tendency is taking back what we own.

Our brave men and women have fought tirelessly to secure funds and equipment for our revolutionary army, and the day is at hand when we will take the fight to the very heart of our land.

Our soldiers are everywhere, they are in the forests and mountains, in the cities and in the streets. They know the land because they are the land. The government cannot give us anything that they have not already taken from us – to arms brothers and sisters! To arms![/i]

[United States of Unfreedom]

Harding Street Generating Station, Indianapolis, The Hoosier Alliance
8:30 PM

Nigel’s job working at the power plant that supplied electricity was tedious and hard, but it would come in handy tonight. Nigel strolled along the side of one of the large gas-fueled generators that screamed as more and more fuel was burned. The power plant had eight generators that were all interconnected to produce around 1,000 MW of electricity, powering the entirety of Indianapolis and its suburbs. Nigel crawled through a small space in the wall, a service tunnel, and made his way behind this specific generator. Above his head was one of the large intakes that supplied the generator with its generous helping of fuel, but that was not what he was looking for. Nigel shined his flashlight around looking for a very specific pipe. Where the hell is it, he thought to himself walking along the small corridor. Finally, he come across the pipe he was looking for, a smaller, less regulated, pipe that pumped out the generator’s emissions.

Nigel turned the small crank that disengaged the exhaust pipe so that he could do his part of the operation. He quickly unscrewed the tight bolts that held a small portion of the pipe together and took it off. A black plume of smoke rushed out as it was extracted. Nigel coughed as the smoke smacked him in his face, but quickly regained composure. He stuffed a large metal ball, approximately the same diameter as the pipe, into the opening and hammered it into the pipe. He quickly screwed back on the covering and reengaged the exhaust pipe and slowly made his way out of the service tunnel. The ball would cause everything that came out of the generator to back up into the generator itself. The generator could take this backup for around 30 minutes, but after that the generator would lose almost all ability to operator followed by the natural diffusion of the gas into the other seven generators. If everything went according to plan, the entire city of Indianapolis would be without power in an hour.

Redemption Work Camp, The Hoosier Alliance
8:45 PM

As Joe brought the truck to a stop at the checkpoint setup at the entrance of the camp. The soldier at the gate came up to the window of the truck. “Papers,” he said holding out his hand. “Here ya go,” said Joe, handing the soldier the papers that detailed the A/C work that needed to be done in the camp. The soldier quickly eyed over the papers and was appeased when he saw a signature from someone important in the Capitol building. “You’re good to go, Mr. Charlie Henderson,” said the soldier as he handed Joe back the papers. “Thank you,” Joe said nodding his head at the soldier and pulling the truck through the gate. Joe’s college degree in biology and organic chemistry was soon about to come in handy. Yurick punched Joe on the arm as they pulled into the camp. “We’re half way there now,” Yurick said as he got out of the truck. “The easy part..” Joe replied as he pulled the large gas cylinder out of the back of the truck. As the duo made there way into the main building, another soldier stopped them. “What’s all this for?” he asked. “Air-conditioning repair,” Yurick said, nodding at the “equipment” they had in their hands. “Thank God you two are here, we’ve been suffering for weeks,” replied the soldier. “Hopefully we can fix that,” Joe replied smiling at the man. The two walked up a couple floors of stairs till they were at the top of the compound. A sign directed them to a room labeled, “Air-Conditioning and Heating”. They walked into the room, a small one, and set down their equipment. Joe locked the door to the room and made his way over to the intake that fed the A/C unit for the camp. He unscrewed the four screws that held it in place and removed it. Below sat a small chamber that led to the cooling portion of the A/C unit. He quickly took off the cap to the gas cylinder and, with Yurick’s help, tossed it into the chamber. He could see the gas, which was slightly opaque, being quickly sucked into the A/C unit. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here and find Brandon,” said Joe picking up the back that held a small fully-automatic bullpup rifle. “What does that stuff do to a person anyways?” asked Yurick. “The gas enters the lungs and when it reacts with water, it turns into hydrochloric acid which is not pleasant at all in your lungs,” replied Joe as they slowly walked down to the hallways that housed the prisoners.

Several men were asleep in one of the many bunk rooms that housed some of the prison guards. Three men played cards off in a corner, just under a vent. One man sighed, "Check." The next man, the one sitting directly under the vent, dropped a hand full of bills into the small pile that had already accumulated. The second man quickly met the man's raise. The third threw down his cards in anger. While the two other guards went back and forth dropping small amounts of money on the table, the third man looked up at the vent, wondering where his luck went. Then something odd began to leak out. He squinted his eyes, wondering what it was. Then it hit him. "Gas. GAS!" The man sitting right under the vent looked up at him, "What the hell are you talking about? Just calm down and-" The second man looked up at the vent as well. "Holy shit! There is gas!" The third man stood up. "You just want a peek at my ca-" He started to gag. Then he coughed up blood. The man touched his face and brought the blood covered finger out in front of him. He screamed. At this point, everyone in the room was awake and the other two men had backed away from the vent. "Everyone out! Pull the alarm!" The vent on the other end of the room was also pumping it out and two men were screaming right along side the other man. Someone busted the glass on an emergency alarm and pulled it as everyone rushed out. Something similar was happening all over the prison, in bunk rooms, hallways, even bathrooms. An emergency lockdown was put into place, and gas masks were handed out to everyone that was alive. Non-military personnel were sent to a secure room guarded by soldiers. Men equipped with M16A5s and AA-12s flooded the hallways. In the chaos, Joe and Yurick were able to slip by, hiding in rooms when groups went by. Already, they were close to the room that held the controls for the prison block that held Brandon. In only a few minutes, the power would shut down. Then, they would have only seconds before the emergency power kicked in. As a group of soldiers exited the block they were headed for, they slipped in just as the door closed.

The room that controlled the block was on the third floor. Luckily, they came up on the second. The two men made a dash for the third when no one was looking. The guards were busy taking roll call. This room was gas free, as were the other blocks. There were no vents, to prevent prisoners from escaping out of them. Still, the guards had gas masks, just in case. The control room was armored to prevent entry in case of a riot. The door, however, would unlock for a brief moment after the power went out. Then, it did. The lights went out and Joe ripped open the door. Once it was open, the man inside looked back in surprise. Then his brains were splattered on the bulletproof window behind him as a burst of bullets crashed into his skull. Yurick quickly ran to the controls as Joe slammed the door shut. Yurick looked up as he finished meddling with the buttons. The guards had barely reacted to the takeover as the cell doors came open. Both the guards and prisoners hesitated. Then, a prisoner yelled, "Freedo-" before getting slammed into the wall behind him from the blast of the AA-12. Prisoners rushed the guards. Most of the soldiers were able to gun down at least the first one or two before getting thrown to the lower level or overpowered and shot. More prisoners were killed, but in the end there were more prisoners. At the end of the block, a man with an AA-12 aimed at Brandon. Before he could react, a man from the neighbouring cell jumped on him with a scream. The much larger guard was able to throw the inmate to the first level, breaking his back and neck, killing him. The soldier, forgetting Henry and Brandon, shot the other prisoner in the back as he tried to flee. Henry, a large man himself, charged the man and started to grapple with him, more out of fear for his life than want of freedom. Brandon came to the assist and was able to bring him off balance before helping to throw the guard off the railing. Then, the room was silent. No gunshots, nothing. Everyone looked around for a moment, some inmates holding weapons. Yurick and Joe exited the control room. "Brandon! Up here! We've got plan! Everyone, if you work togeth-" "Fuck that! I'm out!" was the response from an inmate, grabbing a gas mask. Realising that there were limited masks, prisoners started to fight over them. A few took them a gun point, other with fist fights, and a few even gunned down men for them. It was chaos again. Brandon made his way to the third floor. Henry, not knowing what to do, followed.

“Come on, we’ve got to go!” yelled Joe to Brandon, Henry, and Yurick. The group of men made there way down the staircase that led to the car garage. “Hey, this building is on lock-“ a soldier at the door began before Yurick put a bullet through his brain. The four men busted through the door and ran as fast as they could to the truck that was 30 feet away. “There’s a blanket in the back, get under it!” Joe commanded as he jumped into the driver’s seat of the truck. Joe quickly put the truck in gear headed for the gate. “Get down, we’re not getting through peaceful,” Joe said to Yurick. The truck slowly sped up towards the gate. “Stop! Stop!” screamed the same soldier at the gate from earlier. Joe floored the accelerator and put his head down. A whirlwind of bullets slammed into the front of the truck as it busted through the gate that closed off the prison. Joe heard a very audible whap followed by a scream. “Shit! My shoulder!” yelled Yurick gripping at the gory exit wound in his shoulder. “We don’t have time for that!” yelled back Joe as the truck sped away from the prison towards the highway leading into the city.

[Cedoria]

Alberta, Edmonton Canada, Rebel held territory, 0600 hours
The crowd of thousands cheered deliriously as the crowd of the Canadian government fell in the Central square outside Edmonton City Hall, raising in its place the banner of the revolutionaries. After months of continuous protests, with occasional outbreaks of violence, this was the first time the masses had seized definitive control of the city government. When Albertan authorities refused to fire upon protesters, the Provincial Government fled west, leaving the province in the control of the revolutionaries. With Alberta in the hands of the socialist revolutionaries, further victories throughout the west of the country were inevitable...

Raising the red flag of revolution, and trampling upon the flag of the rapidly disintegrating Canadian state, the rebels deliriously continued their celebrations for many hours...

Into this atmosphere of jubiliation, flew a small transport helicopter, a 6-129 "Centaur" Cedorian transport stealth helicopter, landing near to the central square, the Cedorians identified themselves as members of the People's Intelligence Agency, bearing greetings and offers of support, both financial and military, to the cause of the revolutionaries...

Leading the team, Special Agent John-Marchus Gregg asked to be taken into the city hall, managing to talk himself and the fifteen members of his team past the delirious crowds and the barricades that several armed members of the newly formed Canadian Socialist Workers Party (CSWP), had taken control over.

Walking into the city hall, to the joyous sounds of celebration outside, they prepared themselves to meet with the CSWP's leaders, and the vanguards of the Canadian revolution most now regarded as inevitable...

[United States of Unfreedom]

Edmonton City Hall, Alberta Canada

Liam Gagnon watched silently as the Canadian flag was tore down from the flag pole in front of the city hall. In its place rose the banner of the Canadian Socialist Workers Party, a simple red flag dotted with three golden stars in the top left corner. He watched as the flag was quickly set ablaze by one of the protestors then kicked among the crowd.

"Sir, there are some men here to see you," said one of Liam's most trusted aides in the newly-formed Red Militia, Gregory Smith. Liam shot a quick glance at the man then turned to him. "What makes them any more important than the hundreds of other that want to see me?" he asked sarcastically. Gregory coughed in embarrassment then responded, "Sir, they are operatives of the Cedorian People's Intelligence Agency." Those last words quickly caught Liam's attention. "Send them in immediately and provide them with any luxuries they request," Liam said as he closed the curtains to the outside.

A few moments later a small knock was heard at the door, followed by Gregory's entrance with a group of sixteen men trailing behind him. One of the men, obviously the group's leader, nodded his head then spoke. "I am Special Agent John-Marcus Gregg of the People's Intelligence Agency, I am pleased to meet you," the agent said approaching Liam. The man's English was odd, but Liam expected that nonetheless. "I am General Liam Gagnon of the Red Militia of Canada, it is a pleasure to meet you as well," Liam said shaking the man's hand. "We have established a military junta for the time being over the entire province of Alberta, and I am the elected head of the junta," Liam said as he turned to Gregory. "And this is Lieutenant-General Gregory Smith, my second in command. We have seized many government army depots across the territory, however we are still drastically low on weapons and ammunition," he said recounting the situation at hand. "We have more and more men joining our ranks by the hour, but nothing to arm them with other than the occasional private hunting rifle," Liam said waiting for the Special Agent's response.

[Brillnuck]

House of Commons, London, 18:40PM

Manuel Fisher clutched the paper and sighed; 'Well this is going to take ages...' he thought. The debate on whether to intervene in the Second Cedorian-Hoosier War started at 17:00 and got off to a good start, except the House was divided on whether to intervene or stay neutral. The Liberals, the dominant party in the Commons and Lords, was split in exactly half with one demanding to stay neutral and the others wishing to intervene on the side of The Hoosier Alliance. The Tories and Labour had the exact same problem, though 4 Labour MPs wished to intervene on the side of Cedoria (they were quickly shot down by fellow MPs). Interestingly, the only 2 MPs of the National Party were fully in favour of getting rid of 'sickly Commies' by siding with The Hoosier Alliance.

"We must understand that if we do commit ourselves to this war, we will have to terminate trade agreements with countries on the opposing side. Do we really want to waste the lives of our soldiers when we already have commitments to our overseas territories, which still depend on us for the majority of their defence!"Liberal MP Janet Bell stated."Not to mention that we risk rising out national debt, and no one wishes to spend more years paying it of!"

The House erupted into a loud applause as Government and Opposition MPs had something to unite on- despite their ideologies misunderstandings and disagreements.

"I would like to disagree with the Right Honourable Mrs Bell," spoke Labour MP, Sunil Damodar. "We have kept our alliance with the Cedorians for quite some time and we should honour that! Let us not forget that in The Hoosier Alliance, socialism is looked down upon. If it is not feasible to put troops on the ground, then can't we at least give them and the rebels some aid?"

The 3 other MPs which were for intervening on Cedoria's side cheered and clapped; their voice was spoken at last. Unfortunately, some MPs took offence to Damodar's speech, calling him 'traitor' and booing loudly.

"Order order!" the Speaker demanded in her loud booming voice. "I would like to remind the MPs present here that we are to speak civilly and not to call others names. If you object to his speech, please say it."

The Prime Minister, Kevin Strong rose from his seat and said "Our alliance and relationship with Canada has been older than our relationship with Cedoria. Hundreds of Canadian refugees are coming to Britain in seek of shelter from the turmoil back home and far more will come in the following days with the toppling of the Canadian government by the socialist rebels. I firmly agree with my colleage, the Right Honourable Mrs Bell, we have other commitments to fufill, though we cannot allow either side to attack us. Keep trade with both sides and offer to relocate Canadians who do not wish to stay under a socialist regime; that is what we can do. I am sure that one day, this wretched war will be over, and that peace will prevail!"

Strong was known for his rousing speeches, but this one had taken the House by surprise. MPs stood up and applauded the Prime Minister; it did not matter which party they were from, they all had ignored the humanitarian aspect of the war. The Speaker called for a small break and by 19:15, the house had voted on whether to intervene or stay neutral.

Results:
Liberal: 337/340
Tory: 228/230
Labour: 74/78
National Party:0/2

For staying neutral: 639
Against staying neutral: 11

[Brillnuck]

BBC News
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Breaking News: Commons votes to stay neutral in Cedoria-Hoosier Conflict
19:20PM

The House of Commons has voted to remain neutral in the Second Cedorian-Hoosier War. 639 MPs voted to remain neutral in the conflict but instead to send humanitarian aid to affected regions and offer relocation of Canadians wishing to escape the turmoil in their country following the removal of the Canadian government by rebels. The debate waged on for 2 hours with the vote at 19:00. During the debate, Labour MP Sunil Damodar voiced his wish to intervene on the side of Cedoria stating Brillnuck has had an alliance with Cedoria 'for quite some time' and that Brillnuck 'should honour it'.

The Prime Minister spoke in opposition to Damodar, stating that Canada's relationship with Brillnuck is 'older than Brillnuck's relationship with Cedoria' and that 'Brillnuck should offer to relocate Canadians who do not wish to stay under the socialist regime'. The Prime Minister also stated the impact of Canadian refugees and showed genuine concern for them.

The Prime Minister is expected to speak more on the topic in within the next hour.


More will be updated in the hours to come, along with the international reactions to the vote.

[Cedoria]

Nodding to Gagnon in response, John-Marcus quickly rattled off the list he had memorised on the ride over.
"I understand comrade. I am pleased to inform you that the Central Committee has decided to become more directly involved. Your revolution will have the weapons it needs, and full Cedorian support in the days to come".

He paused to draw breath.

"In the next day or so, the People's Navy Battlegroup III will be arriving off the coast of Alaska to allow for safe passage of Cedorian supply ships across the Northwestern Passage and Bering Strait into Canada. These will be laden with Cedorian manufactured weapons, supplies such as foodstuffs and others, as well as more modern armaments and protective gear. Once we begin capturing military airfields, the Central Committee has also decided to vector in PAFC squadrons to provide close-air support for your ground forces here. Before too long Canada's bourgeious government will fall, and we will have gained a revolutionary foothold in North America."

"Furthermore, myself and my comrades in the PIA humbly request that we remain with you too coordinate Cedoria's side of the operation here and keep you and our leaders back home appraised of developments as they occur, we will be your line to the Cedorian leadership, and we will be their link to your needs on the ground, we are at your disposal." John-Marcus finished his spiel, and carefully awaited Gagnon's response to the Cedorians offer of support.

[Caracasus]

Caracasusian Embassy to the Hoosier States

“You did what?”

The young man sat, sweating slightly in front of Nwanneka and six other diplomatic staff. The harsh fluorescent lighting made even Nwanneka's skin seem death-like, tinged with grey. Sleep hadn't exactly been easy to come by for the embassy – the power cut had led many to assume the worst... the panic made them starkly aware of exactly how many Caracasusians there were. An island in a sea of hostility...

Those of Caracasusian descent in the Hoosier States were hostile to them, for the most part with a few notable exceptions. Largely the descendent of those who had fled over a century ago from the revolution. Landlords, factory owners and the like. The United States (as it had been then) was the logical choice for many to flee to. The little cafe's were almost like a time window – the old styles of art and décor adorning the walls. Frescos and murals of the Tarr Riverboat Massacre with “never forget” engraved underneath.

The young man coughed. His arguments, his justifications that had seemed so rational and well thought out crumbled in front of him, fell this way and that. It was as if they were written on some great sheet of paper now sodden and falling apart in the face of a terrible storm.

“I... I thought it best. I overheard some of them talking about where the meetings were held... so I... I went to the police station and told them. Then I came back here.”

Nwanneka placed the palms of her hands down on the desk and breathed deeply. “And why, exactly did you feel it best to tell the police in this... nation the location of a communist cell?”

The young man's arguments failed to align properly. It had seemed so clear, so rational in his head. Now? He knew there was some way to present them, some way to persuade his mission that he had, however unlikely it seemed, potentially averted a war... and saved lives.

“They gassed people! They blew up a power station – innocent people have lost their lives because of them! We can't align ourselves with them – I heard where they were meeting and I had to make a choice. I acted on my conscience.”

“And your conscience meant that you acted alone? Your conscience knows better than the entirety of your commune, International Affairs and damn near everyone else in your country? Tell me Mr Hartel – just explain one thing to me please before we go through what exactly the hell we are going to do with you... why did you not come to us first?”

“I thought that if we discussed this, then by the time anything could be done those responsible would have moved on.” Despairing he looked round the room. This was not how it had gone in his head, walking back from the police station. He rallied again around his central point.

“They killed innocent people! They used poison gas on...”

One of the elderly men sitting to Nwanneka's left coughed, dryly. “It is easy to be a saint in paradise Mr Hartel.” he leaned over to Nwanneka “this, by the way, is precisely why I voted against Mr Hartel's inclusion in this diplomatic mission. An exemplary record of two years is simply not enough experience.” He levelled in once again on Hartel.

“You are talking about a communist movement in a nation where their very existence is considered a crime beyond the pale. A nation where the state exacts brutal reprisals against dissenters. It was not your call to judge these people, yet that is what you have done. This is... this is not Caracasus you are in boy, understand? These people lash out with methods that seem brutal to us because that is all they have.”

Another diplomat spoke up. “Had you considered that the Cedorian intelligence services or our own Unusual Situations Unit might have had operatives within the Hoosier Communist Cells? You might have started a war here Hartel, not prevented one.”

He hadn't considered that.

Nwanneka sighed. “I've deactivated all but basic functions on your communication device. You'll leave the embassy only under escort until I can get in contact with International Affairs and arrange your replacement. You'll be assigned no duties until then and under no circumstances are you to go anywhere near the Assylum seekers. Understand?” The man nodded. “It'll be up to a tribunal, but I imagine you'll be barred from this kind of work forever following this. If I were you, I'd start looking for a commune that'll be willing to take on such a monumental fuck-up as you've been here. Go.”

The man walked to the door, burning with anger, guilt and embarrassment. One last twist of the knife came from a diplomat who had not spoken.

“We will, of course, be forced to notify Cedoria of your actions. They may call for your extradition, if your actions place their people in danger. There are agreements in place to ensure that they will not execute you but I do not think they will treat you with kindness. You'd better hope they don't.”

---

Cedoria, Poras. Nineday House Envoy and military attache to Cedoria Albina Bhavna

Bhanva looked dashing in her uniform. It was one of the things she really enjoyed about her time in Cedoria. Back home, wearing ones' military uniform was considered a bit weird. Fighting wars and defending the revolution was an important, necessary and dangerous task but it wasn't one you were exactly supposed to revel in. In Cedoria though...

The parades and ceremonies were amazing. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers and uniforms with the militaristic drum beat and trumpet. Mighty jets racing overhead... a symbol to the world of raw militaristic power bent on protecting and fostering the revolution.

The meeting was early, another had cancelled so Bhanva's small unit wheeled in the cases they were due to present. Blocky plastic moulded with heavy tamper-proof security locks.

The assembled Cedorian military advisors and Cedoria's own central planning committee executives stood around the room, watching as Bhanva opened the crates. The first contained a blocky grey thing – it appeared to be a stubby, squat cylinder approximately a foot in diameter. Slender metal spikes protruded from it, eight in total.

“This is our latest Mammoth Tusk missile. It's a development on earlier models, with a central control unit that utilizes battlefield topography, known tactical manoeuvrers and other factors to isolate where a vehicle targeted might be when the missile hits. This allows for approximately 14% less fuel loss adjusting for target movement, and approximately 12% less fuel loss when moving to....”

More developments to Caracasusian weapons technology followed, until the last piece was bought out.

“That appears to be a three dimensional printer”.

“Correct. This is a standard model used by Communes across Caracasus. Following the civil war in Menthi, we noted that although Caracasus has officially remained neutral, many Caracasusians used these devices to fabricate small, hard to detect firearms. The refined plan can utilize even low quality plastic spool to fabricate a simple, four barrelled pistol.”

“How accurate are these weapons?”

“About ten foot. You'd need to be across the room from someone to use them but they're not built for accuracy. We can supply as many of these as you require, within reason. The program for the gun itself takes about eight hours to manufacture, and another two to assemble. They're reliable enough and a simple calibration to the blueprint can allow for several calibres of ammunition.”

She coughed.

“Our analysis shows a distinct probability of a protracted revolution in Canada. It is also increasingly likely that fighting will require agents able to carry out covert assassinations.” She had rehearsed this speech a few times. “It is also possible that supplies from Cedoria may be intercepted or blocked by naval blockade. I am not lying here, compared to a normal hand gun, these weapons are rubbish. However, they can be manufactured quickly, they go almost undetectable by most weapons detectors and they will most likely have their place in the Canadian revolution.”

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Prime Minister Arnold Harper was in shock, as was the rest of the Canadian Parliament. Alberta had fallen. For a few minutes, there were only whispers on what should be done. The more conservative members made themselves heard first, however. They demanded martial law immediately. They should request Hoosier support and send in the troops. The more liberal and moderate members wanted to take a much calmer approach. Many of them wanted to try to negotiate with the people of Alberta. Clearly, they only wanted to be heard. Calling in support from the Hoosier war-mongers and sending in federal troops would only harm the situation, they said. The Prime Minister pondered this for a moment. He believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Hoosiers and federal troops would only worsen the fears of the people in Alberta. He agreed that negotiation was the best bet. In the end, the conservatives were put down. Martial law would not be enacted and troops would stand down in Alberta. Attempts at negotiation would also be directed at the anarchist group "Strange Tendency". Harper was worried. Everything, it seemed, was crashing down around him. How many more people would want to secede or, God forbid, declare outright civil war? He didn't know. He only hoped that it never came to that. If it did, he knew, that they might have to depend on the imperialist Hoosier Alliance. The Hoosiers would not be gentle with the Canadian people. Or the Canadian government. If they even allowed the Canadian government to operate as anything more than a mouthpiece for their President. Only time would tell how everything would play out. He only hoped that he made the right decision, not sending in the troops. There was a lot of work to do, a lot of healing to do.


The remaining members of the Alberta Provincial Government were being evacuated via helicopter to the capital. After the first city fell, so did others. Airdrie, Leduc, Red Deer...the list goes on and on. Only a few cities hold out at this point, mostly due to a lack of effort on the rebels part. The local police offer little to no resistance. Those that oppose them just stand to the side and say nothing. Men marched around, waving weapons in the air. Most of the "troops" held only civilian hunting rifles, shotguns, or even just a pistol. Almost as many held nothing. Still, they were able to take much of Alberta in poorly organized riots and assaults on city halls. They were, at this point, not anything like a fighting force. The armories they were in the process of looting would not arm all of them, and they did not have a source of further weapon or ammo supply. The Canadian government hoped that this fact would help in negotiation. The Prime Minister hoped that the under equipped militia fighters would stay just that. Disgruntled men with few weapons and bullets. Unknown to him, or any other official, it would indeed not stay that way. Not after Cedoria got involved.