Peoples Republic of the Commonwealth Community & News Thread

[Bergcornopolis]

Bergcornopolis Intelligence and Security Headquarters, Termalis, Bergcornopolis, Terra
National Intelligence Director Steve Barnson stormed into the situation room. He had run from his escorted car all the way down to the room that was bustling with movement and panic. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!? FIRST I GET THE CALL IN ALMOST 4 HOURS EARLY, THEN I GET BRIEFED ON THE FACT THAT THE BORDER REGION OF OUR COLONIES IS IN DEBATE, AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF NO ONE IN THIS FREAKING BUILDING HAS EVEN PREPARED A STATEMENT FOR ME TO GIVE TO THE EMPEROR AND HIS COUNCIL WHEN I MEET WITH THEM ON THE EVE OF THE BIG TRICAMERAL LEGISLATIVE SESSION IN WHICH THE WHOLE COLONIAL OPERATIONS COULD BE FREAKING OVERTURNED." He took a sip of his coffee as everyone stared at him. Slowly the bitter black coffee disappeared from his cup. When the Director looked up he continued "WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? A WRITTEN INVITATION?!? GET TO WORK I LEAVE FOR THE ROYAL PALACE IN 5 HOURS AND I BETTER HAVE EVERY INCH OF DETAILS COVERED TWICE OVER." He stormed out heading up to his office and sat their standing above where he just was on his "perch". He stared down for at least 20 minutes and then started on his duties of the day.

5 Hours Later

Royal Palace, Bergcornian City, Bergcornopolis, Terra
Several motorcades rolled up to the driveway of the palace. Each holding different persons of interest to the crown. The first held Intelligence Director Steve Barnson. Who seemed to be in a rush hurrying inside with two very large briefcases into the palace with him. The Second held the Speaker of the House who was recently reelected due to the newly discovered health issues in the previous Speaker. The Speaker was now Daemon Rantrill a slicked farmer from the Great Lake region. He was still only in his first term in the House of Representatives when he was elected Speaker. The third set of Cars held The Fleet Admiral Robert Bolan and his son Captain Nielson Bolan who received the Medal of Valor only the day before. They both got out of the car together and walked in with their own baggage. The fourth Car held the General at arms Maxci Venturi a retired military officer who fought in "the wars of old" as he called it. Finally the Prime Minister, Mark DeVolo got out of his car a favorite in all of Bergcornopolis only second to the Emperor and the royal family. He got out turned waved to the two people passing by the gates and then walked inside. Mark was the last one to enter the palace he made his way around the halls all the way down to the Situation Room of the Bergconian Empire abroad. He and the other members of the Motorcades where met by the Emperor, the Minister of State Affairs Max Reedin, and the Minister of Defense Laura McSmite. All three huddled up and the end of the table. Holographic maps of space and the territories illuminated the walls spread across the table was a map too familiar to the three members of the legislature. It was the Legislative seating chart of the Tricameral Congress at-large. There were 600 seats and their respective representatives within the three branched congress. Within the Parliment stood 100 Seats, 200 in the Senate, and 300 in the House of Representatives. For the legislation that was to reach the floor within the next 15 hours, 450 votes would be needed to open and expand the Space Colonization and exploration program to be continued. Aswell as to raise a fleet of starships to be produced in Mosscu Shipping yards. 450 votes even with Captain Bolan's Speech the night before most inner congressional polls showed 500 votes on average were going to be cast in favor. Which would be fine except with the situation on the border in the current Colonies on Nova Terra. "Good Afternoon, I hope yall are ready to campaign for this legislation because no one other than myself and the Prime Minister is leaving until BC-SPAN announces the votes and we can tell the retaliation fleet to head out and Land in the Missiupi river area and the Nantahala region. I would also like to be able to tell both the Congress and the crew of the fleet what they would be supporting. So would you Director Barnson and Minister Reedin please breif us on the situtation?" The Emperor stated as everyone got seated and comfortable.
"Well from what we have right now we have heard reports of another settler group from what seems to be America JB. They have been moving closer to our border taking claims of land in "Tennesse" they have also began trying to encompass our region by moving into the Missiupi River Basin and Nantahala region." Director Barnson started then he begins to ramble for several more minutes until.
"I just got word from the American JB Embassy that they will pull out of the regions peacefully and we have the green light to colonize the areas." interupted Minister Reedin.
"Well, Great now we can just call the representatives and poll them without them having to know..." States the Speaker anxious to leave the room and get back on the congress floor. "Ill head to the Capitol and begin having my office send out calls and they will report back to here where yall can monitor the votes." Before anyone could respond the Speaker darted out of the room followed by the General at Arms the Minister of Defense and Fleet admiral and captain Bolan begin dismissing themselves as well talking about possible beginning designs of Space Fighter. Still, flustered Director Barnson walked out of the Room shortly followed by Minister Reedin. That left the Emperor and the Prime Minister in the room. They stared at each other still seated.
"What Happened?" Mark began "Have they forgotten that they work until you dissmiss them?"
"No" the Emperor Responded "It's my fault I've been losing my grip on the Power I seem to be falling ill more and more frequently. That's when My succession has come to mind I have only one son who isn't even able to control his student government role as historian let alone lead an Empire. Mark after the Grand Fleet is commissioned or I die I would like you to take over and preserve the empire." Mark sat stunned.
"It would be an honor my leige." Mark said as he knelt at the Emperors feet and kissed his hand. The Emperor then blessed him and then dismissed him. As the Prime Minister left the Emperor was sitting with a glassy stare at the congressional seating chart. As Mark left the hall Staffers and messengers began filling the room changing votes on the chart.

[New Velonia]

Alasia, New Velonia, Nova Terra

A gentle hum of the Presidential Limousine and the occasional crunch of rubble under the wheels of the Presidential Car was the only sound that dared play out in the desolate and depressing area near the former Velonian Capital. Just a dozen hours ago, Parker Avenue was alive with screams and shouts as Velonians took to the streets in a massive protest. Now, the street is barren and caked with ash. At a strained eyesight away, commuters rolled along the F-10 freeway as if it was a regular day.

President Anthony stepped out of his limousine in sheer awe. His eyes were fixated at the husk of the Capital Building. Nearly three quarters of the building was completely gone, with firetrucks still parked across the lawn, spraying water at what seems to be imaginary fires. Girders and charcoal beams still stood where walls were once erected. The Capital Dome caved in the building at some point in the fire, and was partially gone and completely blackened. Windows were shattered at every floor and the roof was warped. Many support beams were shattered, and the entrance to the Capital caved in during the fire after the pillars gave. The gaping hole where the Senate used to be probably left the largest emotional impact.

As the light breeze tumbled burned paper down the street, President Anthony squatted down and picked one up. The paper, however illegible because of the fire, was caked in a dark black ash that stuck awkwardly to the President's fingers. Standing back up, the President took one last look at the carcass and went back to his limousine.

---

Walter Ryan Plaza, less than a mile south of the Presidential Mansion, Alasia, New Velonia, Nova Terra
Basking in the cheering and screaming, standing on a stage in a crowded plaza was Joshua Hawke, supposed savior of New Velonia and a popular nationalist figure. Hawke flattened his clean black suit against his gut as he waited for the cheering to die down before continuing his speech.
"So in response to the incipient downfall of New Velonia, of the immature and embarrassing stupidity of those in charge of our nation, of our laughable world reputation, our failing economy, the destruction of our rights and way of life by the radical left, we must take a stand. This is where we put our feet down and right back against the radical left. Believe it or not, you are the resistance." He said, looking at the crowd with an inspiring look to him " the resistance against the decay of the Velonian State, of the destruction of our great, honorable national capital. Today we shall march. March to the Presidential Mansion and completely take back our country!"
Cheering drowned him out in seconds. The police around the area, caught off guard by his remarks, fail to maintain order as the crowd followed and supported Hawke as he glided off the stage and towards the President.

---

Presidential Mansion, 32 minutes later

The faint sounds of cheering and shouting was audible even in the President's office. The President looked out his curtained window,hands in his pockets, stressing over what was to be done. The Congress was in shambles and dysfunctional. Several congressman went missing in the fire, several more attacked in the streets by members of both extremes. With violence on each side, the President stayed in the middle. He knew very well the days of his administration were numbered.

At first, the conservatives waited by the fence in peace, simply shouting at and filming The Presidential Mansion. However, as time progressed, the shouting became more and more enraged. As one tired protester departed, 5 more energetic ones came in. It was but half an hour after the protesting started that things took a turn for the worse. With a clear view of it all, President Anthony saw people begin climbing the fences separating the most important building in all of Earth from the violent people in he streets. One by one, they scaled the fence like ants and jumped off the other side. More and more people followed, and the Secret Service ran outside to control the situation.
"Mr. President, we must leave. Now." Barged in a Secret Service agent.
"Wait." Whispered President Anthony, still looking at the scene unfold in depressing silence. A group of suited secret service agents drew the guns out towards the trespassers and inaudibly yelled at them. The yelling seemed to get more and more charged, and people continued climbing the fences and ignoring the secret service. In a surreal scene, a single loud pop rang out across the lawn, creating such a surreally quiet scene it seemed to be the shot heard around the world. Almost immediately, a secret service agent collapsed on the floor. Stunned by what just happened, the other officers seemed to stand there, motionless. Another gunshot rang out and another agent collapsed. the secret service agents drew their weapons up and towards the protesters and fired unremittingly at them. In a matter of seconds, both sides were shooting at eachother, with such unrelenting violence and hatred it rivaled that of the battlefield.

"Mr. President! Let's go now!"

"Oh, shit!" the President managed as he was grabbed by his bodyguards and hauled off and out of the office and the window. As he was ushered into the hallway and down a flight of stairs, the President caught a glimpse of a panicking Government. Sirens flashed light and blared its alarms all across the Mansion as people and papers went flying around the hallway, everyone trying to get out somewhere safe. Proceeding down the stairs, the President finally arrived at the Presidential Bunker. Its giant steel doors seemed not to be enough to protect the President from the people's rage.

Some minutes passed before the giant steel doors shut and sealed the President with his cabinet inside. Not a sound was made for what seemed like an eternity before the Secretary of Defense stood up.
"Mr. President," he looked at the two marines guarding the door "I believe it's time to go"
"Time to go?" The President Responded, looking at the men by the door to he bunker.
Without saying a word, the marine nodded at the President and typed in the passcode to open the entrance.
"We don't know if it's safe out the-" the Secret Service Chief interjected
"We have intelligence that says the violence has died down and it's safe to relocate the president to Bunker Delta in Dion," Secretary Carter replied.
"Mr. President, we have no proof of such a thing- we need to keep you safe"
"No," he replied "what would it look like to the country if we just stayed down here like gophers? Let me out, Carter."
"This way, Mr. President" Carter replied with glee.
As they left, the marines stopped the secret service and the cabinet at the door.
"Let them out," the President told the marines.
In response, they pulled the manual lever down and the bunker doors slammed shut with a chest-rattling thud.
"What the hell was that f-"
"President Anthony, 52 men died last week and you did nothing about it. Some of them were damn fine men, and you reduced them to numbers in a spreadsheet. That was he last time you put Velonian lives before your own political career."
"Carter, what the hell are you saying?"
"I'm saying, Anthony, that there will be great change in Velonia. I only pity that you and your cabinet of traitors won't be around to see it" and with that, he produced a small charge from his pocket, flipped its plastic cover, and with nothing but a terrified face in front of him, Carter pushed the button. The longest second in the world ticked by before a deafening explosion sounded behind the bunker door. The giant steel door barely maintained itself as fire and fury engulfed the inside of the bunker.

Before giving the President enough time to react, Carter slugged the President in the stomach and threw him to the ground.
"We aren't going to spare you with death. We're going to parade you around the streets like a f*cking trophy!" Carter yelled in his ear. Reaching for his phone and began dialing in a number just as a trove of Secret Service agents ran behind him.
A look of terror was the last thing that showed on Carter's face.

---

[Aclary]

September 2067

Earlier today Duke William of Aclary has announced that he will solidify land claims on Nova Terra to the north in the Baltic territories and in the southern unclaimed territories which is of surprised due to the increasing tension between both Blurland and Royal Bannanas who have both been less than friendly in foreign policy after Aclary had pitch down its ideology last week by forming The Royalist Party. It is also unknown of how The Armed Republic of Pillowlandia and the United Soviets States of Confederacy will react to these claims as Duke William has argued with high officials in Pillowlandia and gained leadership of the NEA Pact, the mutual alliance between Aclary, Pillowlandia and Confederacy. Pillowlandia has been having internal issues of overpopulation and may seek to claim lands just as Aclary is doing and could possible lead to future issues of territorial resources.

[Bergcornopolis]

Prime Minister's House, Number 29 Upington Street, Bergcornian City, Bergcornopolis, Terra
Mark De Volo stood up and crawled out of his stale bed sheets. It had been a week since the Congress had rejected the vote to commission a Royal Fleet. Led by the Speaker of the house and the Magistrate of State Affairs. They sat in the room with him and the Emperor and betrayed him. The Emperor was also rattled to the core but a hiatus of public service wasn't going to get the fleet commissioned. The Prime Minister for the first time in a week pulled his blue dress pants and tucked in a pale blue dress shirt at the waist. He then pulled out his plaid tie that he usually only wore on extremely special occasions. He tied a full Windsor knot around his neck and pinned the tie down. He then went on to strap on his suspenders and belt to his pants. He then pulled up his argyle socks as far as they came and slipped into his shoes. He pulled his blue jacket of the hangar and put it on with speed and accuracy. He tidied up his hair and walked downstairs to his office and pulled out his corsage that he received when he was elected Prime Minister. It was a Yellow Rose with a golden band around the stem with the Prime Ministers Seal etched onto it and as he pinned it on he looked himself once more in the mirror before putting on his trench coat closing his suitcase and walking out to the line of journalist waiting since the legislative defeat to get a comment. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and approached the makeshift podium that the press core constructed over the past week. He breathed in once Cleared his throat gathering the attention of the Photographers and the journalist and began. "My fellow citizens, Last weeks defeat was a slap in the face for the Government. The opposition was led by the Minister of State Affairs and the Speaker of the House, who betrayed the Empire and has now left the colonies in a dangerous situation. I received this morning a briefing from the colonial Capitals of Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Carolina, and Florida. They have been established and while construction is moving at an accelerated pace. They have found that their current vessels are unable to provide enough protection to the colonies from any aerial threats." He Pauses and stares down the camera. "They need our help we must commission a Fleet of Space vessels and provide them with the funds and create starfighters and other space-bound vehicles of defense or transportation with them. So that we together can continue to step into the future." He then turns and looks at the grand clock tower that stands in front of the Congressional complex and then turns back and continues. "This, of course, would not be a fight to be had if the Speaker of the house turned against the empire and its colonies. That's why with the consent of the Emperor I will call for a general election of all legislative seats for the dominions of our Empire." His car then pulled up behind him and he climbed in and left for the Congressional complex. The Prime Minister was back.

[Taoiseach Federalist Unions]

The uneducated savages grunted in their guttural language, working for their owners of the state. Ever since Federalist Unions was discovered in 1954, there had been two races. The colonizers, and the natives. Shortly after, the colonizers had taken the savages and enslaved them. This particular group was working in a gold mine, in order to add more gold to the treasury.

Lazek, one such slave, walked to his friend Zeke.
"We need to kill the foreman."
"No"
"If we don't, who will?"
"No-one i reckon"
"If you won't I will!"
Lazek grabbed his pickaxe and ran toward the forest, unseen by the foreman.

Zeke watched the foreman carefully for the next hour. However, nothing did happen. Right as the bell for dismissal was rung, he heard a sickening crack, and saw the foreman crumple to the ground. Armed guards came running to the slaves, but emboldened the others grabbed any weapon they could and attacked the guards.

The fight went on for about an hour, with all 15 guards dead, and only 157 workers dead. However, they were free. The slaves elected Lazek as their Taoiseach, and he started preparing defenses

[Sudardes]

The Baker Farm, North Dakota, Colonial Sudardes, Oct 10th, 2067
The sun bled below the horizon slowly over the vast golden field of genetically modified corn. Tended lovingly by the Baker family, the 500 acre property had yielded sizable quantities of foodstuff ever since the plot was given to them by the colonial authority and seeds provided by the Ministry of Agriculture just a few years ago. A quiet 2 story farmhouse sat in the middle of it all, with a dirt road connecting it to the highway that snaked across the country. The barn and grainery located just a few meters west, storing the food ready to be sold at subsidized rates to the Nova Terran market. To the North there was a dense pine forest set in front of soaring mountains in the distance, forming a beautiful treeline and completing narrative of the Sudardesian frontier.

Charlie Baker was a quiet man. He lived on the property with his wife and two kids, aged 14 and 18 respectively. There weren't that many blacks in Sudardes altogether, let alone on Nova Terra. Back in the day he and his family would have been viewed with suspicion, especially before the reunification. But now as a proud Sudardesian citizen and wholesome family man, he was treated just like everybody else. In the community he liked everyone, and everyone liked him. Often, he'd sit outside on his porch playing the guitar and singing songs that he would have sang with his comrades as they built the high rises over sprawling Sudardesian metropolises back on Terra. But now he sat outside with a rifle propped up against his chair, and news about the New Velonian invasion and subsequent refugee crisis playing from his earpiece.

This was not something done out of hate, but rather a necessary action in protection of the fatherland. Just two nights ago, Baker had already caught a Nomadian in one of his animal traps out in the fields, and the Colonial Authority has warned the citizens to remain vigilant in the coming months and notify the local police or militia about any refugees crossing. Earlier today, several soldiers from the colonial garrison had moved a large radar installment complete with what Baker could only assume to be a battery of surface to air missiles. The same men had told him that soon they would have to make a clearing along the treeline and construct a fortified wall, and that he would be paid due compensation for it. Until then, he was told to sit tight, and try catching these Nomadians and turning them over to the authorities.

Refugee camp, North Dakota, Colonial Sudardes
The camp was only moderately crowded. After all, the conflict was still young. However, possessing a long adjacent would inevitable lead to refugee problems. So the question that every mid to high level bureaucrat in the Colonial Authority was asking was, what is to be done about those seeking asylum?

As far as Terra was concerned, this was an opportunity to snatch up research scientists, engineers, soldiers, and anyone with technical skills. Intellectuals and low skill workers would be turned away in favor of those who would be less seditious and more grateful to the kind state that now permitted them and their family to reside and serve the Imperium. Of course, all of this would be easier said than done. The reality was that it was incredibly difficult to separate those with actual skill with those that were simply pretending in order to take advantage of the generosity of the Sudardesian state.

Documentation would be the answer of course. A secure database of all incoming refugees and their relevant skills. Everyone would be required to fill out paperwork and wait to be processed. Those who are accepted will be sent south to the Southern frontier where they will work under supervision in order to make plans for the southern expansion, and those that are rejected will be sent back across the border and told never to return. However, the Colonial Governor had chipped in some of his own ideas. The unwanted refugees would be marched east into America JB where they would be received and taken off the hands of Sudardes. This route would be secured and observed by the colonial garrison of course.

Then came the possibility of a looming New Velonian invasion itself. The recent government change and military actions by the state posed a spooky precedent for the Sudardesian Colonial Garrison. Severely under powered against a full invasion, the governor requested additional garrisons from Terra to strengthen the frontier, at least as a temporary measure. It was decided that in the central regions of the colony, several weapons plants dedicated to high end Sudardesian equipment such as guided missiles would be built, not for sale, but for stockpile in the colony. The enrichment of radioactive substances would be also begin on Nova Terra, to create a local nuclear arsenal as intergalactic shipping was too dangerous given the current state of piracy. Construction of a border wall has already begun in the north, regular AWAC patrols have been scheduled to provide around the clock coverage of the Northern frontier, Nomada, and New Velonia, and the rapid expansion of New Velonia forced the colonial authority to look South for future expansion.

New military installations have been ordered by the colonial governor to be built in each state. But that construction takes time. For now, the garrisons were moved east and stationed in temporary encampments as their permanent stations were being built. All throughout the week, SAM installations previously unused were finally unboxed and positioned all around. It is now clear that Nova Terra was just as dangerous and unstable as Terra.

[Pillowlandia]

Daylight fell on the muddy countryside, what had originally been farmland for the once newly founded colony of Baile, which had become more than just a home as the colony saw explosive growth.

Increasing numbers of urban homeless, meaningfully employed yet unable to afford housing in the absurdly dense urban centers of mainland Pillowlandia, and increasingly in her Terran colonial holdings, had jumped at the chance to start anew for both their families and them to have a place to call home.

That had been over half a century ago, and the flood of people hoping for a less crowded life had never abated. Two hundred and seventy million men, women, and children had made their way in search of new beginnings. Yet that was only the beginning, the colonial government had settled upon a patch of land and named it Dublin. At first it was little more than prefab constructions, housing essential functions and little more.

Now, it was a city of over ten million and growing. Which posed a problem, the rapid growth could be managed from an infrastructure perspective, after all centuries of larger cities had urban planners highly knowledgeable for such growth and size. No, it was the matter of land or lack thereof.

Even with rosy projections of growth, the population density was climbing rapidly among the various scattered colonies of the empire here upon Nova Terra and it would need to be corrected before it became a problem. The abundance of terra nullius was a further motivator, as each passing year saw colonial borders spread wider. This, was the impetus at least for the expansion. Yet, it was money which truly spoke and the facts of the matter was that fears about shrinking quantities of land were driving prices up, and rapidly at that.

This movement was what had landed Major Hiram Hayward here at the border of the disputed territory. The rather porous border was being secured, with a measured haste to ensure that it was completed promptly but not needlessly hurried. Afterall, hurrying things took money. And while the colonies provided a vast source of wealth and taxes for the crown, squandering coin was frowned upon greatly.

This vast territory of over 200,000 sq mi. would be a prime area, given both its desolate state across almost its entirety, only small settlements here and there, and the beautiful natural landscape and environment. All of this combined with a new need for territorial integrity for the newly incorporated peninsula and its vast plains.

That was what brought the scrutiny of the Pillowlandian intelligence apparatus to bear upon the surface of Nova Terra. Integrity of the possessions of the crown and state upon the virgin land.

Naturally, a sprawling body such as the Naval Intelligence Office, the “office” name being the epitome of understatement, worked closely with other government bodies and even spawned smaller spawn of its own.

That was how the Nova Terra Signals Bureau got its start, serving as a more localized body to collect, intercept, and analyze signals of friend and foe alike. Though it ostensibly served to foster high speed communications infrastructure across all of Nova Terra and its local gravity field.

As a result, if something was sent there was a good chance it had wound up in the hands of the Bureau. Now if it could break the associated encryption was another question, with the group holding multiple deep storage facilities full of stored communications unable to be partially or fully decrypted and simply waiting until their encryption scheme was broken. Of course, this time was often measured in weeks or even days for any civil communications which were of any particular sensitivity. Military items were often either purposefully obfuscated or delivered via quantumly entangled communications relays.

These harder to intercept communiques were what justified the boots on the ground of the Bureau, intelligence assets and handlers sown onto the ground in every colony, country, and settlement of worth upon the surface of Nova Terra. Yet, they were often slow and the Bureau knew its foes did the same in return, making the channel useful more as a catch pan than anything else.

This time though, was different. Major Hiram Hayward sat at the park bench, it was technically well inside the disputed territory and likely would raise more questions than prefered if he were to be observed. As a result, he sat plain clothed and reading a novel in the sunshine and sea breeze. Waiting.

A redcap, visibly damp with perspiration, and polarized sunglasses with a tiny flash of polished coating caught his attention first. The regular rise and fall of the chest betrayed that they were far more fit than they made themselves out to be. As they passed towards the bench they slowed, coming to a pause where they took several moments to retie their shoe and ‘throw’ away a small item of trash. Without a single word spoke they were off again, and Hiram continued to read is novel.

Cpt. Ayden Alexander
Nova Terra Signals Bureau Field Office
Alasia, New Velonia

---

The other staff, especially those hired from the local populace to work in the kitchens, after all what else would a colonial be hired for, were extraordinarily concerned over current events.Yet, Ayden had little to be surprised over. His section was the one responsible for interdicting these signals flowing below the news and the general mood of the people. It was part of his excuse for treating himself to lunch out in the city every day instead of utilizing the embassy canteen. That, plus it was easy to make contact with other agents discreetly in the field while enjoying lunch. Not that one could completely enjoy anything while they spent every moment looking over their shoulder, both figuratively and literally.

That led to him being quite unsurprised at the attempted and thus far successful coup against the quite legitimate, if timid, regime of the last president. That the flag of this generals coup was so harsh upon the eyes of anyone with a drop of sense was certainly no help. As he brought the spoon, filled with the heavenly broth of hot soup so uncommon in the warmer climate of Pillowlandia excluding her vast colonies, his eyes slid around and picked up details of people both passing and dining.

It had been several days since the disappearance of the former president, one of the few unaccounted for variables in the moving puzzle of New Velonia assembled by the Pillowlandian intelligence services. While the sudden vanishment of high level officials after a coup was common and expected, all indicators were that the generals orchestrating the entire affair were quite unaware of former President Anthony’s location. That meant he had at least managed to go to ground, and would provide a suitable chip to utilize if he could be found or at least pushed to be of use to Pillowlandia before he was terminated either purposefully or accidentally by the new regime.

As he sat, his meal slowly vanishing from the plate, a lone man in indescript clothing, he had long ago stopped paying attention to the outfits put on by field agents to drop information, passed by and a sudden notification hit lit up the screen of his mobile. “Aj’s Pod would like to connect” it read, and he nodded an affirmative shake towards his own device as the pairing was accepted and the data began to download. Naturally, none of the data was useful at the moment. It was all embedded deep in various files, be they random audio files or text documents and even app metadata. And that embedded data only sat as an encrypted file that had been scrambled across the entire collection. Utterly useless without the key and scheme, which was naturally at the embassy.

His meal completed, he rose and pocketed his device. Walking towards the exit he made sure to drop a decent sized currency note on the table before glancing around for the counter intelligence officers he was sure followed him to lunch. They had been more aggressive as of late, especially as the former president remained at large. Hopefully that would be changing shortly.

---

---

The recent events of the regime in Nómada committing unspeakable horrors against their own citizens, even in their purposeful devolution of power which so carefully crafted to avoid tyrants has crowned one.

These actions, the mark of a regime out of touch of its people and their nations needs speak clearly that a change of the guard is of utmost necessity. Yet, the people of Nómada hold the right as sovereign people to decide their own leader. Thus, we must call upon the New Velonian regime to cease its needlessly despicable actions of unilateral invasion and instead call all parties to come to the negotiation table for the best possible solution and minimum loss of innocent life.

Yet, we can neither stand in silence at these crimes. As such, there is a total embargo of Nómadan goods and services henceforth, to ensure swift and painful economic measures to force the out of tough autocratic regime to acknowlege both the Democratic Commonwealth Regional Authority and its internationally supported mission of peace and the demands of the modern world to be a fair regime for all of its subjects.

His Imperial Majesty of Pillowlandia and her Colonial Commonwealth
Ard Rí Johnathan Johgs

[New Velonia]

Cpt. Ayden Alexander
Unknown location, Alasia, New Velonia

---

Cpt. Alexander sat in private, in the seat of command of a large panel of computers and monitors, unloading his Velonian-made Pod device, he placed it on its wireless sync tool and watched as the encrypted files one by one downloaded on his computer. After what seemed like an eternity, the green bar reached 100% and Alexander tucked the pod back in his shirt pocket.

After nearly two hours of constantly working and checking behind his back, he decrypted the files to the point of legibility. Gripping his chair's arm rests in anticipation, he waited as he information slowly appeared on his screen. An eternity passed and he was finally able to read the report in its entirety.

The report was from the same agent that lent him his info- one named "Aj"- and outlined all the specifics of the Pillowlandian effort to find President Anthony. It is known that somehow he escaped death when the Vice President and cabinet were slaughtered in the coup. It was likely that he was in hiding with the Secret Service. Travel logs and intense research within New Velonia reveal that New Velonian authorities spotted and attempted communication with Blaine-1, the Presidential helicopter, just north of Windsor. He was supposedly moving south, probably into America JB.

After a mess of coordinates and locations where he might be seeking asylum around Windsor, America JB, and other nearby nations was an ominous warning. Aj discovered that New Velonian intelllegence- that of the new regime- was working twice as hard as Pillowlandia to find President Anthony. Counter intelligence is heavy and all Pillowlandian officers should excersize extreme caution.

Signed, Aj

[Zuclan]

On October 10 2064 the newly democratic government took charge they thought it would be best to show their strength to the citizens they are not to be underestimated the way they wanted to show their strength was through conqueroring land but all the land around them was taken so they set sail of the south of their land and after just under a day at sea they saw land and a large crowed of people but they were not zuclandian they were some form of tribe. As they landed the people were trying to communicate with the zuclandians but they spoke a different language but the only word they could understand was tribe. Just after landing they set up a camp to rest.october 11 2064,they woke up and decided this would be one of their settlements so they asked the tribesmen if they would won't to be part of a civilised nation and they agreed.For the rest of the day they were building a wooden spiked wall around the tribes land.They decided to leave so they left 5 of their soldiers to defend the village.They finished a long journey on the 12th and saw some more tribesmen and decided to ask if they would join the nation they disagreed so the soldiers had to kill the tribe which took a couple of hours.They carried on their journey leaving 10 soldiers and 5 builders at the camp.As they came across there final destination on the 13th of October they saw more boats from zuclan and saw they had already set up a village so the adventures asked if the newly elected prime minister sent them and they said he did.The soldiers workers and most of the sailors states but one who reported the information of the travels to the prime minister.this was the expansion of zuclan

[Sudardes]

Minala International Airport, Tycker Om Din Mor, Terra, 3:10AM, September 11th, 2055
The sound of gunfire grew closer as a panicking group of Sudardesian soldiers ran out of the terminal. Through the small doors of the boarding gates overlooking the runway peppered with potholes, the remaining soldiers from the 32nd brigade set up their final line of defense; a semicircular ring of sandbags wedged between the parallel landing strips alongside a few armored cars. Distant fires casting a brilliant red over the horizon and the large floodlights pointed at the terminal gave the troops barely enough light to see. There really wasn't that much manpower left to hold the airport after the initial assault. Perhaps a hundred at most. A hundred against an entire division of Tycker Om Din Mor's fanatics. But all Baxton had to do was to wait for the SNAF to arrive with reinforcements and air support. She let the carbine rifle hang loosely from her shoulder as she studied the situation, the red glint of the sun in her eyes. She saw the dozen men running out the terminal and immediately a scent of fear wafted conspicuously through the air.

"Fuck they've overrun Charlie ma'am!" The captain called as he vaulted over the barricade. His armor showed signs of damage and he was bleeding from somewhere on his head.

"I want you to take your men to the right side." Baxton ordered, adjusting her plate carrier. She watched carefully as the captain hustled his men begrudgingly into position on the right and slid down behind cover, doing a quick weapons check. The terminal itself was a colossal beast, taking up some 18 million square feet. It featured a main passenger terminal and two satellite concourses, all of them five floors above ground and two underground. This proved to be quite the tactical conundrum. What was the best way to hold the airfield? "How long until the SNAF get here?"

"ETA 2 minutes." Shouted an Asian boy no older than 20. He fumbled with his rifle clumsily. Baxton could see his shaking hands struggle to hold the weapon still, trained at the doors where a flood of barbarians was sure to emerge from at any moment. She thought to herself the first time she was in combat all those years ago, and then that night, the sound of rain...

Somewhere on the edge of her mind, under the music, she heard the sound of gunfire. They sounded in an uneven rhythm, a burst and then a wiz, as if stressing a conscious purpose. She could relax, because she heard the gunfire. She listened to the symphony, thinking: This is why the forces have to be kept going, and this is where they're going. She propped herself up against the sand bags and looked through the apatures to find her targets. Streaming out of the terminal was what appeared to be an unceasing wave of Tycker Om Din Morian troops. They came out of every orifice of the ground floor of the terminals. Every floor became a shooting gallery as thousands of soldiers flung themselves against the entrenched Sudardesians, like waves crashing against rocks.

Baxton tried to focus on one target at a time, but it was a lost cause. Every man she took down, three more took his place. Each one more aggressive and moving closer than the last. She looked desperately to her left and right. Each one of these men were going through their own personal hell. The enemy was now just a few feet away. Her hands felt sticky under her gloves, fear slowly crawling through her mind. Fear. What a feeling! Her life could end at any moment. She fired a dozen rounds into a man right in front of her, one continuous trigger pull. Blood sprayed onto her clothes whenever a bullet struck flesh. Little bits of bone cut her exposed skin. Excessive, beautiful. Overhead, the sound of jet engines approached, and an amazing blaze of hellfire doused the entire position. All around, Tycker om Din Morian and Sudardesian alike participated in a grotesque dance of death as the napalm clung to their clothes. The flames danced in Baxtons eyes, an animalistic instinct triggered as she swung her carbine against another soldier, striking him in the head. She rushed forward. He was bleeding out of his ears, eyes wide open, scared like an animal. That's what he was. An animal. She raised her weapon over her head like a club, gripping the barrel shroud, and brought it down. Again and again and again. She felt something bite her leg. Trying to stay upright, she fired into the flames indiscriminately.

Suddenly she was thrown into the air. Landing on her back a few yards away. Before she even came to a standstill, another man was upon her, firing into her abdomen once before she dragged her carbine across the asphalt in lightning speed and swept the mans feet. She emptied the rest of her magazine into his groin. Stumbling to her feet, she unholstered her side arm as she watched the glory unfold before her.

It was hell.

The phosphorus clung to the bodies of the injured, turning them into human torches, their screaming adding to the other cries. And, as if the Devil himself had decided their torments were insufficient, above the wind's howl and the inferno's roar came the interminable, agonised screams of the victims being roasted alive. The unbearable heat gave Baxton the impression that she was stuffed into an furnace. Her own personal hell. Gunfire still sounded through it all. A hand gripped her boot. She looked down. The boy had no eyes, just two gaping holes, dripping. The skin on one half of his face was blistering and charred, on the other it was gone completely, revealing the bone underneath. He tried to raise his other to grip her leg, but only revealed a tendril of flesh and bone held together by a few strands of sinew. its innards were spilt under it and its remaining leg stuck out at an inhuman angle. Before she could react, someone else emerged from the inferno. It was charred and bloodied, but on his own two feet, hands stuck out like a zombie. "Help me, help me!" It begged. She grabbed his wrists. They crumbled and the skin and flesh, now cooked, rubbed off. She felt the wrist bones underneath her gloves before stumbling backwards.

An arm grabbed her shoulder.

"It's over." the voice said. "We won."

She didn't remember being lifted into the medical helicopter, but she did remember what the general told her as she was flown out to command the 32nd Brigade. “Never hit a man above the belt when you can kick him below it. Make the bastard scream. Kill him any way you can. Kill, kill, kill – do you understand?” She understood.

---

Red Light District, Shapiron, Sudardes, 7:11PM, October 14th, 2067
Slowly, the window blinds opened to allow the harsh, neon lights of the city filter through the slats, illuminating the apartment in its vaguely cyan glare. Books were stacked neatly in a corner, yet the center of all activity was clearly a computer in the small bedroom besides the bed itself, which stood almost obnoxiously larger than anything else in the entire unkempt apartment. Everything was the same as always: neon lights covered the entire cityscape of skyscrapers, and their glow was always felt in the heavens. It blotted out the stars and darkened the moon, but even this artificial, obtrusive illumination could not touch all the numerous shadows in the city.

The clouds and the shafts of skyscrapers against them were turning brown, like an old painting in oil, the color of a fading masterpiece. Long streaks of grime ran from under the pinnacles down the slender, soot-eaten walls. High on the side of a tower there was a crack in the shape of a motionless lightning, the length of ten stories. A jagged object cut the sky above the roofs; it was half a spire, holding the glory of a rising industrial power. Far below, the grimy streets and jumbled markets were filled with a rush of people and machines, struggling through from one alley to the next. For the most part, it was safe on the ground, with only pickpockets and the occasionally thug wandering the streets. Organized crime in the open air was something the city fought against. The lower levels however, would be a totally different story. Despite having a moderately developed local economy, the lower levels still served primarily as a vast network of crime and decay. The urban homeless and scum quite literally forced underground to live out their squalid lives. It is estimated that these slums housed somewhere around 2 - 3 million citizens, almost ten percent of the overall population of Shapiron proper crammed into an over glorified 2 tiered parking garage with a ceiling just seven feet high. Dense and full of unsavory characters, the lower levels served as a hotbed for drugs and prostitution, things that, although legal, are frowned upon by the government. Most officials avoided the place as it didn't sit well with most of the middle to upper class constituents. Not that that mattered nowadays with the largely unnoticed rule of Elizabeth Baxton.

However, that would be were Patton found himself today.

He sat patiently at the cheap ramen stand, pushing away soliciting prostitutes and trying to act inconspicuous. But despite his attempts to look like a lowlife, his posture and spirit gave away his rank to anyone that was willing to look twice at him. Dressed in a fading tan trench coat and his signature pair of aviator sunglasses, he scanned the bustling crowd for his contact. A black man with a blue afro made his way towards Patton.

"Ya' goota knoo, I's goot som' goot infoo fo' ya'." He gave Pattom a toothy smile, pearl white teeth standing out against jet black skin. The man was a subby, a distinct class of the city that lived their whole lives in the darkness of the lower level, never once stepping foot above ground. They all spoke the same slang, the same rhythm of silent slurs and words that flowed around like the drugs they dealt. This wasn't a stereotype, this was just an inconvenient truth. "I's bin seeing da noos, an' all the shiet 'appening in Noova."

"It's got to be better than good, Whitey." Patton said impatiently. "You better have something mind blowing for calling me down here."

"Yoo knoo da Noo Veloonen prisidant?"

"What about the poor bloke."

"He lost." Whitey frowned, then grinned from ear to ear. "I's knoo wher' he ist."

"Oh yeah? And how would you know that?"

"I's goot a goot friend in Amelica Jee Bee."

"So then where is he?"

"Ah, Patton I's friend. I's cen teell ya's evelyting. Fer a price."

Patton smiled cooly. He pulled out a roll of Sudardesian Nuggets and quickly shoved it into Whitey's hand under the counter. Whitey looked down, and laughed. That sum of money would allow a subby to live quite comfortably for almost a year in the lower levels. Whitey leaned in and whispered into Patton's ear, a look of bemusement spreading across Patton's face.

"That's quite the info, Whitey." Patton said, getting up, patting Whitey on the shoulder. "You better hope ONI doesn't pick you up. God knows they've got eyes and ears down here."

"Yessa, noot too woory, sa." Whitey exclaimed giddly. "I's watch I's back."

But Patton was already washed away in the see of people, heading back towards the government complex with the news.

[New Velonia]

Pacific Waters, several miles East of Taoiseach Federalist Unions

Cutting through the choppy waters of the Southern Pacific was the NVS Opportunity, a massive Carter-class Supercarrier accompanied with hundreds of other New Velonian ships. The NVS Opportunity was a young ship, first deployed in 2061, and boasted a massive size and considerable defense. Just like with most carriers of the New Carter Class, it is fitted with multiple defense systems against enemy stealth attacks. An AI-guided railgun system defended her from missiles while sound-canceling super-material hid her from sonar. Advanced sonar, radar, and infrared systems constantly scanned the dark waters for enemy ships while hundreds of escort ships guaranteed her safety. Truly a marvel for her time, the NVS Opportunity was the best ship that side of North America. It was because of this that when she was ordered to move into blockade operations south of her base, the 3,000 sailors aboard her laughed at the easy battle won.

Several hours after the blockade began, the Federalist state began to apparently fight back. Around 3:04 PM local time, the first attacks came. Disguised as a bit or bop on the radar and a remarkable stream on the infrared sensors was a Federalist submarine, filled with explosives and on apparent suicide missions. After a minute of two of frantic attempts at communication with the submarine, the NVS had no choice but to fore back. Giving the order, the officers in her command room ordered the immediate termination of the ship. Deciding to shift the responsibility to the nearby patrol ships, with the uttering of an order, a nearby patrol ship fired an anti-sub vacum-creating torpedo, and within seconds, the mark on the radar was gone. Relieved, the Captain of the ship was about to get up and clap, but almost immediately, the ship detecting equipment on the NVS detected a multitude of ships, flocking from the West and heading for the convoy.

In a matter of several intense seconds, the captain and his crew began tagging the ships for the convoy escorts for selective termination. One by one, each dot disappeared and with it several crew members never to be seen by their family again. Time favored the enemy as several ships drew too near to the NVS Opportunity for safe convoy termination, so the Captain decided it was time to use his ship's impressive weapons array. On the surafce, all it took was an unimpressive flick to destroy the ships and kill the Federalist scum, but under the water the whole event was much more impressive.

As the bleak and grey submarine barreled aimlessly towards the hull of the carrier, a hiss sounded as the side of the ship better uncovered a gaping hole housing a large anti-sub torpedo. Almost immediately, the torpedo ejected itself from the ship and automatically aimed itself at the Federalist submarine, exploding in an impressive blast as the detonation broke the sub apart and detonated the explosives inside the sub itself. Above the water, a jet of bubbles and pieces of flesh and light rubble would float up and serve as the only indicator of what used to be a ship and a living human.

Without any injuries, the Federalist attack was successfully fended off.

To Federalist Unions

---
In response to the Federalist State's attack on the naval blockade-

Immediately pay a sum of 900 Million NS$ to the Nationalist Government of New Velonia or face the might of the New Velonian armed forces at war. Your provocation will not go unanswered.

Respond immediately.

[Attokad]

Obvium City, The Imperial Palace

The doors to the Triangular office swung open as General Ynacio quickly approached the desk of their dear emperor. "Your eminence I just received a message from the Union State stating that they are in need of supplies immediately." The emperor slowly circled his chair around to face the general as his hands slowly rested against his face as if in deep thought. "Do we send any or hold off ?" asked the general as if in a hurry. Looking to his left at a map of the world hanging on the wall the emperor answered "Well if they really are in need then we must send aid at once, send out one of our supply wings to take care of it. However remember that this is just an humanitarian mission nothing more." "Yes your eminence understood." replied General Ynacio as he bowed in respect and headed out of the office. At once the general was on the phone contacting the capitals main air base.

Volant Airbase 13:00hrs

"Yes sir, understood sir, got it...sir" said the major in charge of the 77th supply wing. Once off the phone he got on the base PA and called the seven crews of the wing to report immediately to the black room for briefing on a mission. Once in the black room the Major went on about the mission that the guys were to undertake, all while they interrupted him several times. Once out of briefing the crews began to disarm their C-300's hopefully to keep themselves safe from attack while on a humanitarian mission. As the supplies were loaded aboard the flight crews began to start up their engines and finish all pre-flight checks. All the birds lined up to takeoff and one by one the magnificent beasts roared into the afternoon sky off on what some considered a potential suicide mission.

Somewhere over the Arafura Sea 22:00 hrs

As the 77th supply wing approached the western shores of the Union State they descended to a lower altitude to avoid detection by any enemies. After about five minutes they made contact with the closest air base and began to land one by one with the beautiful night sky over The Union States as a back drop. Once landed they began quickly unloading the supplies, the airmen of the Union State thanked the Attokadians for their help and bravery in answering their plea for assistance.

Telegram sent to New Velonia's carrier fleet
-------
We The Holy Empire of Attokad are sending a humanitarian aid supply flight to The Union States, our aircraft are not armed. However any act of aggression will be seen as an act of war against our Empire and will be dealt with accordingly.

-General of the Imperial Air Force Ynacio

[Pillowlandia]

HMS Cian
4th Deterrent Squadron
Federalist Union State Blockade, South Pacific

---

The sky was as grey as the enthusiasm of the crew aboard the so-called fleet carrier, who in all honesty could better be described as an aviation cruiser. Given the nature of operations here on Nova Terra the need of true fleet carriers was nearly nonexistent. So, a cheaper option was needed.

Which was where the Cian and the Mimic-Class carriers came into the picture, their length gave them enough deck size to be capable of operating the full range of carrier planes in the Pillowlandia arsenal, yet her size remained small enough to carry only twenty manned aircraft, including both fixed and rotary. This seeming lack of craft was augmented by the deep integration of UAVs in the roles of tanker, surveillance, and AWAC. This mixed airwing allowed the manned craft to do their job better, in line with the focus upon more specialized airframes of the Pillowlandian naval air component.

As a result, when the UAV the size of a small bus, fitted with a radar as powerful as a larger manned AWAC thrice its size, was airborne it’s altitude and dull grey worked to blend it seamlessly into the sky. As it sat in the air, providing radar coverage far past what the carrier could do on its own, the UAVs radar remained passive, avoiding the attention which would be drawn by an active radar.

Yet the collection of ships, a vast convoy of forces, was going both at speed and in a tight mass. That, combined with the vast height advantaged enjoyed by the AWAC gave a very clear radar return to the AWAC of the position, speed, and most importantly the heading of the convoy.

This information was useful, given that the convoy was a massive movement of men and materiel which could be utilized in a wide variety of implements, despite the difficulty the island nation would face in keeping such a force fed in addition to its own native military and citizens during this blockade. As a result, this force was one that simply couldn’t be allowed to make landfall.

For now though, the airborne platform would remain in the air, far enough that the sea level radars of the convoy escorts would simply be unable to detect the small craft at such distance. It would take a time to marshal the amount of missiles needed to effectively sink this bastion of inferior Nova Terrans. They would live, for this moment at least.





First Lieutenant Makim Culpor
82nd Marine Special Services Company, Red Branch
OPERATION:REDSEARCH
Red Light District of Shapiron, Sudardesian Imperium

---

His bright blue eyes stood out in most crowds, yet fit in quite well in the underbelly of bustling city above. Partly natural, and now enhanced by false pigment dyes more typical of the youth and street urchin classes. The street urchins in particular were of interest to him today, given the limited time he had to get into and out of the country.

That narrow window of opportunity however, was precisely what gave Makim such a deep frustration with the lesser developed city of Sharpiron; above and below the surface. Despite being perhaps a third of the size of Moscou at best the city felt so much more cramped and filled with people. That was in part to the grime and generally more downtrodden feel of this center of imperialistic power.

However, the network of informants in the sprawl that the Sudardesians were willing to call a city- doubtlessly a highly similar network of operations ran by the Sudardesians in Moscou and Pillowgrad alike- had already informed him decently well of where he was searching. The sudden appearance of middling government official had only confirmed, and helped narrow, the search.

All of that was why he was traversing the cramped corridors of this underground, searching out his lone target.It wasn’t difficult really, despite the size of the place it was surprisingly easy to navigate if you knew what you were searching for. In this case it was a blue afro, and the use of a tongue more degenerate than the degenerate mess it was based upon, oh how the world would be better off adopting the PIllowlandian system of languages. Or even just the Cenaesian system, after all either of those shared the same divine roots.

In any case, it didn’t take long. The constant checking behind himself to see if any was following him was almost comedic, and the man's failure to examine in depth his forward movement his fatal error. It was this that Makim took advantage of, learning in an alcove until the man came abreast of himself. In that moment he struck, flicking his foot out and catching the man off balance. Thus, balance in his favor he lashed out with a fist and knocked the wind clear out of the man's lungs.

The sudden movement, quite naturally, startled the crowd. Yet, the normalcy of such events in the lawless dens of this underbelly left them unphased after then realized it had no impact on them. So, thoroughly caught off guard Makim carried this blue haired man to a side alley among the side alleyways.

“I will now ask you several questions, answer them truthfully and to the full extent of your current and potentially future knowledge. Failure to do so will make you a deadman, compliance will make you a rich man. Understand? Good, now lets begin.” Makim began, using one arm to hold the man beneath him and reaching for a small syringe with his other. He promptly stuck him with it, and it delivered a small dose of both sodium pentothal and a mild paralysing agent to ensure that the… client wouldn’t get too excited with the next step.

“What is your name, current and recent aliases , and occupation? Your relationship to a Mr.Patton? What intelligence did you relay to him? What contacts do you have within America JB? How much were you compensated by him?”, on and on the questions came out. All distinct, but all quite the same in the end. After all, they had the puzzle pieces for the most part. All they needed was a little nudge to get things moving faster than they already were.

[Ruvicon]

On this amazing occasion we celebrate the passing of the royal family.They were not in power for very long but they have caused so many deaths. We here in Ruvicon have decided we hate the monarchy but just because they are not here does not mean we are safe.The ruling class also known as the upper class have kept their power and are forming a aristocracy.We hope they will last half the time that the monarchy lasted for. We are getting privileges back now like we are able to buy tech but the new government have raised the prices by three times as much as normal and halved our pay.

This is from you local radio station be safe and dont die.

Welcome our new leader the countess Cordelia Marburg

[Attokad]

Obvium City, The Imperial Palace, The Press Room

“Good afternoon ladies and gents, I won’t be taking questions for now I will just be making an important announcement.” started Foreign Minister Julius Carter, clearing his throat a bit he continued. “The Holy Empire of Attokad will be opening up embassies and establishing strong diplomatic relations with the following nations The Republic of Alpha Hutaz, The Kingdom of Zarkos, The Dominion of Ruvicon, The Democratic Republic of Zuclan, and The Federal Republic of Kotelia. As I have spoken with the leaders of each of these nations and they have also come to an agreement with myself that we will at this time establish an alliance amongst our sovereign nations to better invest and protect all of our nations combined interest. The alliance shall be known as the Union of 6.” With that Julius walked away from the podium as reporters started shouting out questions and cameras flashed their bright white lights. Across the entire empire a new wave of curiosity could be felt, as the people would wonder just how this alliance would affect the formerly pro-isolationist government.

Obvium City, The Trigon, The Bunker

Newly promoted Imperial General Ynacio walked into a room filled with smoke and hot bodies. “Alright listen up we all heard what our foreign minister had to say, now what he didn’t want getting out to the press was our other agreements of joint military bases in some of our allied countries. For now we will be only sending troops and accepting troops from Zarkos and Ruvicon. However if the other allies get on board we will be shipping ourselves over seas and be preparing to take on more foreign forces at our bases. Any questions so far ?” The General searching the room with his eyes thinned out. “No okay good, all of the joint bases will be located along our western side, because Lord knows we don’t need any foreign forces friendly or not near our beloved city and our royal family. Now in front of you is a folder inside are all the instructions and procedures you need to prepare for overseas deployment and to take on our allies troops. Now any more questions ?” “Yes sir I was wondering have the plans for Operation Jupiter gone through ?” The General putting his hands on the table leaned towards the person asking the question. “Does it look like we are here to discuss anything but opening up joint bases ?” Taking a deep gulp “No sir it doesn’t.” “But to answer your question since you seem to think it’s more important than the issue at hand, yes we have sent them through to the Northern Front and we are awaiting their reply. Now if there are no questions pertaining to this current issue you all are dismissed !” shouted General Ynacio as the room quickly cleared out.

[Ruvicon]

The countess Marburg walks up to the post "On this joy full day our prosperous nation will be joining an alliance with 5 other nations The holy empire of Attokad,the republic of Alpha hutaz,the democratic republic of Zuclan,the kingdom of Zarkos and the federal republic of kotelia"."We will be joining politically and miltitaraly"."if you wish to know more of the union of 6 read the holy empire of Attokad's coverage" the countess storms off.

[Sudardes]

Peak of Mount Ekrub, The Philosophers Range, Sudardes Proper, Terra, 10:37AM October 18th, 2067
Jackson tore off his respirator. However, at the peak of Mount Ekrub, there was no way in hell he wasn't going to miss out on the full experience, piercing, fresh mountain air, or lack thereof. Standing at a whopping 8.9 miles above sea level, this was the tallest mountain on all of Terra. A cutting mountain wind blew the red flag proudly, displaying it for the world to see. He shuddered and adjusted the temperature regulation unit on his wrist. Immediately he could feel his core temperature rising slowly. The rest of the platoon sat around in a large semi circle on a plateau a few dozen feet below, with their weapons all propped up against one another int the center. Eating their condensed rations, they listened as the drill sergeant lectured sternly about the necessity of the rehabilitation of the soldiers of the colonial garrison upon their return to Terra. The sunlight streamed unfettered at this elevation, casting brilliant inhuman shadows on the structures below. Jackson tried to comprehend the majesty of what he saw. A sea of clouds obscuring the base of the mountains, with snow peaked tops from all the rabble, casting a brilliant contrast between the crisp blue morning sky. Far south if he squinted, he could barely see the top of the highest towers in Shapiron, teasing him from just over the horizon. He almost didn't notice the snapping gunfire as the rest of the platoon began firing practice at targets propped up some distance away. As he began to feel dizzy, Jackson quickly refitted his respirator. The influx of oxygen into his body jolted him back to his senses. He climbed back down to the plateau to rejoin the rest of his platoon and prepared for the coming days of high altitude training, all whilst attempting to filter out the screaming of the sergeant in his earpiece.

---

Ubuntu Military Base, Somewhere in Mount Ekrub, The Philosophers Range, Sudardes Proper, Terra, 7:16PM October 19th, 2067
The base was not something out of a science fiction movie, far from it. It lacked any elaborate landing strips, hidden airfields, nor boasted any top secret weaponry. No, the base was essentially a gargantuan network of fortifications spanning the entirety of the Philosophers Range. Thousands of miles of tunnels that wove together hundreds of launch silos, thousands bunkers, scores of railguns, and dozens of retractable helipads that jutted obtusely and conspicuously off of the face of the mountain. Of course the maintenance of the base required an entire corp of men and women to ensure that everything ran ship shape. The incredible stress that the running of not just railguns but around a quarter of the Sudardesian nuclear arsenal in this base alone meant that alternative sources of energy were sought, hopefully to ensure that the base was self sustaining in the case of an emergency. This was the demand that led to the construction of five large geothermal wells that provided enough energy to power the entire Bay for a thousand years. The wells also meant that temperature would be internally regulated and the permanent presence of snow meant that it was entirely possible never to receive a drop of water from the outside world again. Internal farms lit by artificial sunlight and growing genetically modified seeds solved the food problem. The yields, though modest, combined with already stockpiled resources served to render the entire complex totally self sufficient. Built with the fear of nuclear holocaust in mind, the depth at which the entire complex was buried meant that it was impervious to all but the most extreme of attacks, shielded by thousands upon thousands of feet of stone, reinforced by imported high grade steel. The shallow incline at the base of the mountain also served to further bolster the strength of the base as a whole. Hell, the base even had maternity wards and schools so that in the case of an extinction event, the SNA would be ready.

But its unique location also meant that it was an excellent training ground for recruits and members of the colonial garrison alike. The trainees would be garrisoned on the top levels of the base, around 8,000 ft, and train at the lowest level of the base, at around 4,000 ft. Two elevators connected the base to ground level, around 1,000ft, where plateau was dug and the walls of the mountain shot up almost vertically for 2 miles in either direction. Here would be where new recruits were shipped to from the more populous areas of Shapiron in commercial sized transport barges and buses. More importantly however, this would be where crucial supplies like weapons, ammunition, and parts would be shipped. On a slow day, there may be one or two shipments of mail and packages for the enlisted. On a busy day, there would be shipping containers full of high density tungsten rods or semiconductors. Suffice to say, this was quite a busy port. Each and every shipment would be thoroughly examined before hand, slid through an elegant frame. After about a minute, images of the container’s contents pop up on a nearby projection screen, complete with a color-coded identification of the objects based on how they interact with naturally occurring subatomic particles. Suffice to say that this was quite the import export terminal.

Thus far in Sudardesian history, the integrity of the base has never needed to be tested. In reality, it served more as a proving ground for determined young men and women looking to make a new life for themselves rather than its original purpose. The imposing silhouette of the range was enough to induce a sense of awe, as if a brilliant symphony was played right there in front of you. An awe that the SNA sought to mimic one day. But until then, the would remain just like the base would remain, steadfast, silent, and deadly.

---

Symphony Hall, Shapiron, Sudardes, Terra, 7:16PM October 20th, 2067
Baxton sat, flanked by a team of body guards on the second level left balcony. They were very shallow to avoid trapping or muffling sound and stacked three floors high in total. Their emerald green handrails mounted on dark brown balusters forming a horseshoe on each level. Dark oak panels gave way to a coffered ceiling and statue-filled niches along three sides. The face of the stage itself was inlaid with plaster walls decorated with gold, depicting elaborate scenes of human triumph. At the center just above the stage itself, was carved a large Sudardesian eagle, with a bundle of sticks clasped in its claws, its wings extended horizontally instead of its usual oblique angle. On the ground floor, brilliant scarlet seats cordoned off into six distinct sections on the beautiful mahogany floors led up to an elevated stage of the finest craftsmanship. Tongue-in-groove, three-quarter inch, hard maple boards, a compressed wool underlayment and hardened steel cut nails, hammered in by hand, upon which sat a hundred men and women in unison playing heavenly music; the Shapiron Symphony Orchestra.

Her leg, sculptured by the tight sheen of the stocking, its long line running straight, over an arched instep, to the tip of a foot in a high-heeled pump, had a feminine elegance that was matched only by the hall in which she sat but oddly incongruous with the rest of her. She wore a revealing black dress that most of her ministers would have condemned, wrapped shapelessly about her slender, resting body. A field of golden hair was tied neatly in a bun, restrained. Her face was made of angular planes, the shape of her mouth clear-cut, a sensual mouth held closed with inflexible precision. She leaned close to the edge of the balcony, her posture taut, as if she resented immobility, and unfeminine, as if she were unconscious of her own body and that it was a woman's body. She sat listening to the music. It was a symphony of triumph. The notes flowed up, they spoke of rising and they were the rising itself, they were the essence and the form of upward motion, they seemed to embody every human act and thought that had ascent as its motive. It was a sunburst of sound, breaking out of hiding and spreading open. It had the freedom of release and the tension of purpose. It swept space clean, and left nothing but the joy of an unobstructed effort. Only a faint echo within the sounds spoke of that from which the music had escaped, but spoke in laughing astonishment at the discovery that there was no ugliness or pain, and there never had had to be. It was the song of an immense deliverance. She recognized the violence and the magnificent intensity. She recognized the style of the theme; it was a clear, complex melody. She recognized that perhaps Sudardes was home to one of the greatest composers of her time; Adam Sadhuka. It was his Fourth Concerto, the last work he had written. The crash of its opening chords swept the petty regional politics of the newly formed Union of Six away from her mind.

No one knew why Adam Sadhuka killed himself. The story of his life had been like a summary written to damn greatness by showing the price one pays for it. It had been a procession of years spent in garrets and basements, years that had taken the gray tinge of the walls imprisoning a man whose music overflowed with violent color. It had been the gray of a struggle against long flights of unlighted tenement stairs, against frozen plumbing, against the price of a sandwich in an ill-smelling delicatessen store, against the faces of men who listened to music, their eyes empty. It had been a struggle without the relief of violence, without the recognition of finding a conscious enemy, with only a deaf wall to batter, a wall of the most effective soundproofing: indifference, that swallowed blows, chords and screams—a battle of silence, for a man who could give to sounds a greater eloquence than they had ever carried—the silence of obscurity, of loneliness, of the nights when some rare orchestra played one of his works and he looked at the darkness, knowing that his soul went in trembling, widening circles from a radio tower through the air of the city, but there were no receivers tuned to hear it.

"The music of Adam Sadhuka has a quality of the heroic. Our age has outgrown that childish stuff," said one critic. "The music of Adam Sadhuka is out of key with our times. It has a tone of Orthodoxy. Who cares for Orthodoxy nowadays?" said another, this one Pillowlandian. His life had been a summary of the lives of all the men whose reward is a monument in a public park a hundred years after the time when a reward can matter except that Adam Sadhuka did not die soon enough. He lived to see the night which, by the accepted laws of history, he was not supposed to see. He was forty-three years old and it was the opening night of Phaethon, an opera he had written at the age of twenty-two. He had changed the ancient Orthodox myth to his own purpose and meaning: Phaethon, the young son of Helios, who stole his father's chariot and, in ambitious audacity, attempted to drive the sun across the sky, did not perish, as he perished in the myth; in Sadhuka's opera, Phaethon succeeded. The opera had been performed then, nineteen years ago, and had closed after one performance, to the sound of booing and catcalls. That night, Adam Sadhuka had walked the streets of the city till dawn, trying to find an answer to a question, which he did not find.

On the night when the opera was presented again, nineteen years later, the last sounds of the music crashed into the sounds of the greatest ovation the opera house had ever heard. The ancient walls could not contain it, the sounds of cheering burst through to the lobbies, to the stairs, to the streets, to the boy who had walked those streets nineteen years ago. Baxton was in the audience on the night of the ovation. She was one of the few who had known the music of Sadhuka much earlier; but she had never seen him. She saw him being pushed out on the stage, saw him facing the enormous spread of waving arms and cheering heads. He stood without moving, a tall, emaciated man with graying hair. He did not bow, did not smile; he just stood there, looking at the crowd. His face had the quiet, earnest look of a man staring at a question.

"The music of Adam Sadhuka," wrote a critic next morning, "belongs to mankind. It is the product and the expression of the greatness of the people." "There is an inspiring lesson," said a minister, "in the life of Adam Sadhuka. He has had a terrible struggle, but what does that matter? It is proper, it is noble that he should have endured suffering, injustice, abuse at the hands of his brothers—in order to enrich their lives and teach them to appreciate the beauty of great music."

On the morning after the opening, Adam Sadhuka shot himself. After being taken to Sudardes General Hospital, he would be pronounced dead just a few hours later. That was twenty-one years ago.

[Bergcornopolis]

Impieral Briefing Room, New Bergcornian City, Terra Nova 12:00
"Two Bergcornian scientists on their first exploratory mission of the northern border area of the Imperial colonies had become lost in the thick vegetation of brush and trees. The two have not been in contact with their fellow scientists for about a weak. Filled with fear the two wander up the mountain until they hear the rotors of several helicopter engines overjoyed in thinking that the sound was sent by the Bergcornian Government the scientists follow the sound until they stumble across an unknown military base in the area belonging to the Wilhelmius Monarchy they jot down some crude numbers of weapons and layout of the base. While they were in the process the Wilhelmian Military snuck up behind them and captured the two scientists. They are now being held as spies in the same base that they found" stated Secretary of the Colonies, Dick Turnbull, as he finished the briefing he turned to the Governor of the Colonies, Neilson Bolan, and the holographic pictures of the Emperor and the Prime Minister, Mark DeVolo. They all seemed to wear the same face of stress and exhaustion. Mark DeVolo was the first to speak up.
"Well this is awful I am sending my thoughts and prayers to them and their families. However, thoughts and prayers alone will not get them freed. That's why I will contact our diplomatic allies in the region and try and get a peaceful resolution to this problem but if I come back unsuccessful I believe that I speak for all of the Bergcornian citizens when I ask you to move in and get our people back by any means necessary."
"I agree." said the Emperor "If we are unable to peacefully get our people back into our territory by 2:00 PM your time I see no reason why an invasion is not uncalled for." and with that, the holograms turned off. The Governor and Secretary sat there in shock all they could do is wait.

[New Velonia]

Dion International Airport, Dion, New Velonia, Nova Terra

Walking at a swift pace, a man wearing a clean and well-trimmed suit swept across the hallway of the Dion Intl. Airport. Checking his watch, his picked up his pace with only a few minutes to go. The departure gate was at a minute's pace away. Picking up his walk to a jog, the man felt his neck start to glimmer, wet with sweat. Panting at an embarrassing rate, he finally reached the gate and greeted the women standing in the way of the corridor.
Managing quick messages through pants, the man scratched his bald spot as the women in front of him explained that the plane was being cancelled and the entire airport was put on notice for all planes departing for Royal Bananas.

The man screamed and plead, but the plane was still being grounded. Finally, he conceded and went to a chair near the gate to sit down and fume over his missed flight to Berlin. Checking his phone for the nearest flights to take him to Berlin, his internet search was interrupted with a nasty buzz. His transparent mobile phone went black and showed an ominous warning:

BY ORDER OF THE PRESIDENT:
ALL FLIGHTS GROUNDED IN/OUT OF RYL. BANANAS.
EFFECTIVE QUARANTINE IMPLEMENTED IN PROACTIVE MEASURE TO VIRULENT PATHOGEN

[Attokad]

Obvium City, Imperatoria Regio, The Trigon

Imperial General Ynacio sat at his desk hands folded and to his chin as he was in deep thought. Looking back down at the memo on his desk he finished reading it. He turned to his computer and began typing…

To General Dan as of October 26, 2067 00:00hrs you are to be the new commander of the Imperial Expeditionary Force Africa. You will be in command of 700,000 personnel, your mission is to help the forces of Praved Nost keep the peace. You will report to the embassy first to figure out which bases to station your personnel at.
------------------------------------------------
Imperial General Ynacio

Vengeance Landing, Southeastern, Nosarta 10:33am

As the wind blew swiftly across the landing strip a low hum could be heard, in the distance a group of about 12 C-300’s appeared in the sky forming a line to land at the airbase. The ground crews began quickly prepping for the arrival of Attokad’s troops and supplies. The Spartacus military drills were to begin in less than 24 hours. As the big birds began making their way over to the spots marked out for them another hum could be heard as 12 more C-300’s appeared in the sky. The troops began filing off the aircraft and loading up onto the transports waiting for them. They were to be heading to Oakley Base just north of their current location.

Oakley Army Base, Southeastern, Nosarta 10:55am

The transports began flowing into the base as the troops got off the officers could be heard shouting out the barrack numbers for the troops to go to. The troops got to the barracks and unloaded their heavy packs onto their sleeping mats, out the window a couple barracks over they saw the flag of Shwaz waving mightily in the wind and standing outside the barracks next to them were troops from Zuclan. As more troops came in the officers were greeted by other officers from Ruvicon. Some troops were starting to realize the sheer size of the force that was partaking in these military drills.


Azure Hold, Southeastern, Nosarta 11:11am

The sunlight glistened off the deck of the D.N.S. Navis the finest battleship on this side of the Indian Ocean. It just had a classic feel to it even though the weapons systems we the most advanced in Attokad’s history. Admiral Raphael had been in command of this ship since it was first released from the dockyards. This ship was to be the flagship of the Attokad fleet taking part in these military drills over the next weeks. He had also received orders from the Imperial General to remain in Nosarta until further notice. As the admiral peered through his binoculars he could see the gleaming ships of the Alpha Hudaz Empire and Kelet.

[Attokad]

Obvium City, Imperatoria Regio, The Trigon

The General sat at his desk waiting for his program to open, then without hesitation he typed out the newest orders he had for the imperial military of Attokad…

To Admiral Ian of the Seventh Fleet as of 07:00hrs you are to surround the island of Bahrain with your ships and have three units of your Marines land to occupy the island. If any resistance is met then you may return fire. All mission reports must be sent directly back to my office.

---------------------------------
Imperial General Ynacio

To General Anthony of the Northern Front on October 27, 2067 at 05:00hrs you are to launch Operation Jupiter to occupy the territories along our northern frontier. You are to leave behind only a quarter of your force to hold your bases. You are to report all findings and potential threats directly back to myself.

---------------------------------
Imperial General Ynacio

To General Peter as of October 27, 2067 at 00:00hrs you are to be the new commander of the Imperial Expeditionary Force Asia. You will be headed to be stationed in The Republic of Shwaz, you’ll be in charge of 70,000 personnel. Your mission is to be determined at a later date for now you will only protect your bases and the embassy in the case of hostilities. You will report directly back to my office on all happenings.

---------------------------------
Imperial General Ynacio

As the general sent out the orders he got up from his desk grabbed his cap and departed for a late dinner with his fellow Imperial Chiefs of Staff.

[New Velonia]

Statement from President Hawke

As time passes by, it is becoming abundantly clear that the government of Settledlandis completely unfit to rule their people. The inept and weak Government cannot fulfill its most basic and general duty, that being to lead their people to security and prosperity. Their dysfunctional government resorts to mass state media and abundant corruption to sustain itself as Settledlandians are being stolen of their prestige. The ineffective and weak state bows down to every whim we-the Velonians- put forth and cannot reliably sustain a national pride, leading to many, many Settledlandians considering themselves Velonians and not Settledlandians.

It is with the best intentions to preserve the life and prosperity of ethnic Velonians and the Settledlandians, a symbol of strength against those who believe they can and should take advantage of this fair Velonian nation for their own self-perpetuation, and an act of maintaining stability and economic prosperity in this North American Continent, we are sending the following proposition to Settledland.

The Settledlandian state shall abdicate and surrender to the Velonian State and comply with the annexation of lands held currently by the Settledlandian state.

IF we do not recieve a response in time, we shall treat it as a refusal.

[Duckzchwhitz]

DMSS DOMINANCE, OVER ASIA MAJOR, 2030

Fleet Admiral Hiro, recently appointed the captain of the DMSS Dominance after the former Admiral Yates had given his position up to work in Central. He had served for 26 years in the Duckzchwhitzian Navy, fighting tooth and nail to get up to this rank. Now he had reached it, the height of his life, as commander of one of the twelve mighty Muerdou class carriers in the fleet.

It had been only two weeks since the 3rd Imperial Duckzchwhitzian Fleet had arrived to Nova Terra, beginning its regular mission to act as a sentry for low orbit combat ops, providing ground support and quick deployment for expeditionary forces on Nova Terra. Yet their last weeks had been filled with event after event. Central was intent on grabbing the coast of Asia Major, to begin their expeditions into the Heartland and later all of the massive continent, in a search for resources and testing grounds for new technologies.

A notification popped up on Hiro's HUD. Without much reaction Hiro opened the message, expecting more orders for scouting out the heartland, as the forces had been secretly conducting for months, bolstering old expeditionary outposts settled by the initial Duckzchwhitzians that had come to Nova Terra.

The Message:

---

DUCKZCHWHITZIAN CENTRAL COMMAND

---

Admiral Hiro,

Despite our actions to blockade the colonial state of Demonstrania, their state is still managing to get supplies through Shwaz, located southwest. We cannot spread our blockades too thinly, until Haidao agrees to our terms, or is brought down by force, so we have determined the best course of action would be to begin decisively cutting away at the Shwaz Navy, until they are unable to fend off even a weak blockade. You are to deploy REDACTED Squad 1 by Steel Rain unto the designated area.

Coordinates and instructions of the combat operation have all been calculated by ODIN. Chances of mission success are 98% with zero casualties. The conditions are nearly perfect for our deployment of the ECA units upon the enemy fleet. They currently number at 3 old era destroyers, so the squad should have no real issue taking them down.

We expect swift results from you Hiro, Godspeed.

-Central Command

Hiro, having read this new directive had his will reignited. Things had begun to move, and the Empire would no longer wait for the dogs in the colonies to continue their futile resistance to Duckzchwhitz's might.

Standing up from his seat, he waved his right hand out and perpendicular to his body, "ATTENTION," as his voice boomed through the bridge, the diligent officers working onboard immediately stood out of their seats, turning to face Hiro. Like a well oiled machine, they were ready for anything he had to give them.

Hiro's flames of confidence were nearly blinding, as he lowered his arm, "Central Command has tasked us with dropping off some of our boys on the colonial dogs who think they are above being attacked by our convoys. Of course, as Duckzchwhitzians, it is our sacred duty that we show them that WE ARE the ones who rule atop their heavens. We are finished playing this child's game, now we must act. Prepare for deployment of Steel Rain, and prepare REDACTED Squad 1 for combat deployment immediately!"

"Sir yes sir!" The soldiers replied, their voices almost giddy as to finally be dealing with a bit of action.

---

DMSS DOMINANCE, OVER ASIA MAJOR, 2100

Captain Amorr, was as ready for combat as any other soldier who got to pilot one of the infamous ECA units. The custom made powerarmor, given only to the most elite soldiers had gained notoriety during the great rebellion, after REDACTED Agent Jason Cortez managed to single handedly destroy a rogue destroyer, losing his arm after being shot by the main gun of the ship.

Yet that was 40 years ago, the ECAs had since much improved from the days of old. The Mark IX had been issued, and Amorr was the man to test it. He, commanding his squad totaling in three members, was tasked a month prior to his arrival at Nova Terra with the combat testing of this suit. REDACTED had kept this a secret, only stating their unit to be a standard ECA unit from their ranks. Amorr didn't know what sort of game they had been playing within the internal scape, yet he didn't really care for it. He was a soldier, bred for war and to kill anything the empire deemed unworthy of existing.

He equipped his helmet, checking diagnostics for errors, before setting himself into his drop pod. His ECA sealed itself into the pod, preventing him from being thrown out to be seriously injured if hit the ground at terminal velocity.

The lights in the drop chamber went green.

The buzzer sounded...

In a flash, Armorr felt his pod shoot out the catapult of the ship, being hurled down into the atmosphere of Nova Terra, directly on course to their target as predicted by ODIN.

The thick atmosphere hit the pod like a truck, the G-Force making even a trained soldier strain within his suit. The pod shook and heated up, as it cut and burned through the thick atmosphere. Further and further he went, the temperature subsiding as he was slowed down by the cushion of air that continually pushed against his pod. The sound of the drag flaps opening was only accompanied by another jolt, as the craft began to steer itself to the target.

The ECA's HUD flashed the deployment sign, and a timer marking 3... 2... 1...

The pod blew apart, sending Amorr and his squad mates soaring out. They broke through the low lying clouds, under them the dark sea churned. His thermal scans picked up the three ships, right on schedule.

Turning on his radio, Amorr spoke "Alright boys, don't expect this to be a quiet entrance! We're gonna blow these ships to hell before that recovery team even thinks about coming for our asses, I expect you to have no problems."

"Damn right we'll have no problems," replied hot headed and curt Sergeant Howell, only to be followed up by the ever gleeful sociopath Lieutenant You's disturbingly calm addition, "It's gonna be pretty messy, but I'll make sure to stay on our schedule, even though these new toys are quite nice... Hmm..."

The three moved to grab their Gauss cannons. Their size had been halved from the original model, making them even more viable for use in the field, yet this would be their first use on the field.

The three took their aim, finding the guns on the ships, before firing their first salvo, then their second and third salvo. The recharge time of the weapons was amazing, yet that was partly due to the massively improved compact fusion reactor that lie in the suit.

Yet the enemy ships had seen them, as the CIWS came alive from their ships, now only hundreds of meters away.

"Shields up!" Yelled Amorr, taking his CC sword off his back, along with a large CC shield.

The CIWS turrets let out a roar, sending streams of metal to the soldiers who descended upon them. Tracer rounds lit up the darkness, yet even if they came in mass, they were ineffective against the supermaterials that made up the armor and shield. Even in the unit, Amorr could feel the force of the bullets streaming into his shield, pushing him back and slowing his descent, as he was only 70 meters above. Using the force as he came to an angle to propel him to the deck of the ship, he landed with a solid klang against the floor, cracking the material under him from the force. The onboard weapons systems could no longer touch him, the main guns had been knocked out, and the use of missiles upon their own ships would be ludicrous and ineffective.

Men scrambled out of the ship, armed with small arms. They took cover, and began opening fire. The bullets from their rifles was barely noticeable compared to the 30mm rounds of the close in weapons system.

Amorr began his walk toward them, sword and shield in hand. The men frantically shot, one throwing a grenade at the armor clad man, who effortlessly knocked the device away with his shield, right back into a group a men, who met a gory and avoidable death to their own bomb. As his walk turned into a jog, the men became more and more terrified, some shaking as he raised his blade, beginning to cut them down.

One by one, they fell, being eviscerated, decapitated, and impaled by the cold alloy of the his blade. around two dozen corpses, lay on the deck, their blood seeping on the floor. Others who had not yet met their maker lay in agony, moaning and groaning. Yet Amorr had no time to grant them the mercy of a swift death, as he kicked in the steel door and entered the ship.

He was immediately met with gunfire, the men in a desperate attempt to defend the ship and their lives had set up a haphazard barricade, having taken a .50 HMG, and aiming it in wait. Amorr was actually impressed at their capability to so quickly deploy a weapon to defend themselves from him. Then again, it wasn't like I was sneaking up on them. He thought to himself, shrugging mentally, before charging into the fire.

The tempo set by the large gun rang through the halls, each round hitting its target, only to be deflected as Amorr charged. Jumping down the rest of the hall, he took his blade, slicing right through the gun, and its man, before soaring past them and continuing his way to the ships magazine.

More and more men desperately fought him, as he strode through the engineering rooms, slicing through pipes and steel, finally reaching the magazine for the ship. Behind him only lay the dead and the dying, and ahead lay the weakness of the entire ship. Grabbing his plastic explosives he set them against the magazine, timed to explode in under a minute, before turning and sprinting out of the room at incredible speed. The halls were but a blur of red and grey, as he soared through and leaped out of the door in which he had entered.

Behind him a massive explosion range out, the concussive force shattering the windows on the destroyer's bridge. Men screamed and cried for help as the few survivors leaped off the boat, desperately trying to escape the reapers who had come for them.

Sighing, Amorr reholstered his sword and shield to his back, before reaching to his side, and grabbing one of the dead sailor's rifles. Even with the ship sinking, aiming at the men in the water was like shooting fish in a barrel for any ECA pilot. Taking careful, precise shots, one by one, the men met the end of their futile efforts, all being claimed by the ocean's black waves.

To his left and right, the ships were ablaze, similar reactions from the men happening. Amorr turned his comms on, "Amorr speaking, I'm finished, how about you two?"

"This is Howell, the ship and its crew have been eliminated, over."

"Hmm, You here, the ship's crewmembers weren't really exciting, but hey at least they had a full magazine!"

Amorr sighed, the ease of this mission proving to be another letdown. He opened up a channel to the Dominance, "This is Squad 1, the mission has been carried out as ODIN predicted, requesting recovery."

The reply came almost immediately, Admiral Hiros voice laced with satisfaction, "Understood, your extraction should be there before that bucket you're on sinks."

"I hope I can count on that," Amorr spoke, somewhat lightheartedly, despite the grim scene that surrounded him and his comrades, before ending the transmission, and staring off into the darkness.

[Pillowlandia]

304th Colonial Air Artillery Squadron
ICAF Corrán Tuathail (RAFMount Pleasant)
Unincorporated Commonwealth of the Falkland Isles

---

The prior day had passed like most any other, until the late afternoon that was. The buildup of foreign warships had not gone unnoticed of course, two destroyers were quite the target to be noticed after all. That coupled with the unrepentant declaration by the heretical fools of Tudorlandia.

Such unbridled hostility was though unwelcome, entirely useful. A scant few hours for the defenders to prepare were a few scant hours more that they could use. Which would prove to be a poor result, especially after air defences were allowed to fully expand to their full potential.

In the case of ICAF Corrán Tuathail, this involved rolling out several older but still effective towed missile batteries. The Casúr system held eight missiles ready, its own tracking radar, and its targeting system all in a simple package small enough to be mounted to a truck. This case however saw them on their own wheels, and a small generator nearby providing power in case the mains of the air field were compromised.

Aside from static defenses, the small complement of older fighter craft were moved to ready status, fueled and primed to scramble whilst remaining in their hardened bunkers. This enhanced readiness was to be expected from the sole military facility across the entire territory, aside from the small harbor for patrol craft.



342nd Falkland Light Infantry Detachment
Green Patch
Unincorporated Commonwealth of the Falkland Isles

---

This was their home(not their native home of course since the Colonial force was composed almost entirely of Terran born and trained soldiers who rotated in and out on multiyear details) and they would guard it with their life, for the safety of their countrymen and to the glory of Lugh and Crown. Naturally, this homefield advantage let them navigate the city with ease.

The rapid growth of the territory had expanded Green Patch from a sleepy town to a growing city, and that provided the space and cover needed to slip through buildings towards the still humble town center.

“Do not resist occupation.”, was uttered in the harsh and unnatural sound of a megaphone projecting across a space. It was about that moment that the men of the First and Second squadrons reached their positions, elevated and at street level, in various places surrounding the public space.

With that, Cpt. Patrick Cooney drew a breath and fired. The air hung pregnant, the roar of the first shot hanging as civilians looked around in desperation and the heretical savages dove for any protection they might happen upon. What was but a moment's pause stretched itself much longer than it seemed for all involved.

The citadel of pause was breached as a hailstorm of bullets called out in response to the firsts rallying cry. The volume of fire would drown it out in the moment, but the soldiers of the Colonial garrison responded in tight and controlled bursts, their thousands of hours of training making themselves apparent in their precision. That they each had several hundred rounds either in reserve or close by let them take less concern with the expenditure of bullets they fired too.

As the maelstrom of bullets continued to fly forth, a lone soldier cried out “Viva la Lugh!”. The cry was quickly taken up by the other men, the mixture of distinct languages used back on the mainland of the empire purposeful. (Not to mention telling of the degree of education which had been received by the soldiers assembled.) Afterall, they only had to hold the attackers off until reinforcements made their way here.

---

---

The unjustified, uncalled for, unwelcome, and flagrant disregard for the honorable conduct of states in affairs of state and diplomacy domestic and foreign resolves to one acceptable option in the course of events.
By order of Lugh, Crown, Church, and The Imperial Assembly;

The Holy Imperial Commonwealth of Pillowlandia and Her Colonies united in grievance hereby and irrevocably issue and inform the heretical ducal regime of Tudorlandia and the Greater International Community of Sovereign States

On grounds of multiple acts of war including the illegal blockade of the Commonwealth of Falklands

On grounds of needless bloodshed of Pillowlandian and Terran lives alike

On grounds of dishonorable conduct

On grounds of illegal armed occupation of the sovereign territory of the Pillowlandian State and Crown

Issue a formal and unilateral declaration of the state of war which exists between our two states upon which lies the fault of Tudorlandia in aggression against what must now become an armed affair in motion of defensive action by the armed forces of Pillowlandia

His Imperial Majesty of Pillowlandia and her Colonial Commonwealths
Ard Rí Jonathan Johgs

[Bergcornopolis]

The Northwestern Bergcornian Boarder with the Kingdom of Whilhelm 1:59 PM
"ONE MINUTE" Yelled Commander Danforth of the Wust Karnian Militia. He and his Men were tasked with infiltrating and taking the base that was holding the two scientists. He stood upfront on the border of the kingdom. He stared at his watch as it stood slowly ticking towards 2:00. 30 seconds He looked up into the sky and saw the bombers soar over as they prepared to attack the Whilhelminan City of Durham. 15 seconds He could only think about the tanks and artillery stationed in south Charlotte ready to move into the Whilhelmian half of the city. 10 seconds He thought of the paratroopers that would be dropped into Asheville. All for two scientists that were being treated as terrorists. 5 secondsNo time to think about the details no time to fear the war it was time to forge the path to victory. 3... 2... 1... He looked forward breathed in and strode across the border. He was not met with fire from hidden sentries he was across. Once seeing this his men followed him across sneaking through the forest he heard the artillery shells from far away from launching at what he assumed was the target. His militia tactician led them through the forest directly to the clearing where the fort lied he shot the flare over the wall and the roar of jets got louder two jets then soared over and launched two missiles nailing the fort. The militia rushed in and through the hole in the wall and then all hell broke loose.