[TWI-ONLY] [IC]: The Spectre

[Orsandia]

posting in place of Negarakita, consider it a "dual collaboration" post of sorts

Outskirts of Dhimchul, Urching SAR, Orsandia

"Watch this mainsider, look closely" whispered an Urching rebel as a group of Negarakitan-Orsan backed Urchingi mujaheddin insurgents and a detachment of the Orsandian Special Air Service quietly trudged through a vast grassland, with the Dhimkupur Mountain Ranges, and Mount Visser, arguably one of the highest mountains in all of Gael casting a chilling breeze onto the makeshift team.

"Mainsider" was a common endearing slang used through out the Urching Special Autonomous Region by the indigenous local population to describe their "westernized" fellow countrymen, used to contrast from their more rugged, nomadic lifestyle.

In a highly classified directive, the Orsandian government sent Captain Grimes and Team Epsilon of the Orsandian SAS to provide support and local assistance to Urching resistance groups in areas easily controlled by the People's Liberation Force, and supposedly by proxy, the Thuzbekistani government.

Grimes thought to himself "I get that these urchies hate the damn reds like us, but their ideological roots are a danger of sorts." as the team trekked along the cover of heavy vegetation near a rural roadway, one that Orsandian intel prompted as a "PLF supply line" used by the communist rebel group to transport armaments and manpower through out Urching.

An Urchingi man, who called him self "Salaman", led the combined group and suddenly motioned for the combined mujaheddin and SAS forces to stop.

Along a major passageway of this heavily traversed rural highway, Salaman procured a brick sized item from his bag and waved it towards a visibly guarded Grimes.

"Bollocks, get that damn thing out of my face raggie !" muttered Grimes as glared at Salaman.

"Mainsider no angry. Inshallah, this device shall cause those dirty communist kufirs to immolate in fire." Salaman grinned as he placed the device in the dirt along ends of the road way.

"Just cut all of the religious mumbo-jumbo man. You sure this will be enough of a disruption to PLF operations to be a thorn in their side ?" blurted one of the Orsandian commandos.

"Yes yes. They don't know this terrain like we do, be it a desert hell or snowy hell, this is a hell for any unknowing person who wanders in such a cocky manner."

"With your maps you shared, we know the red dogs come through here. You see" said one of the Urchingi rebels.

Truth be told, Captain Grimes held serious reservations and prejudices being "coaxed" by the Orsandian head honchos to work with some ragtag religious militia, he and his men had trained for insurgency and sabotage tactics before, but to be working with individuals whom they only shared an enemy with, was serious break in military protocol, and one he railed heavily against to his superiors behind closed doors.

The Urchingi milita men chattered in their native dialect, then abruptly motioned to Grimes and the SAS attache.

"Come, it is time to get in position for the ambush, may Allah's will smite these dirty communists." Salaman whispered.

"We're gonna have company soon." Grimes turned to his team, who followed him and the Urchingi rebels as they briskly took positions deep in the vegetation, covered further by a dark Urching night.

A caravan of dated military cargo trucks, and two technical vehicles could be heard off to the distance along the highway.

[Dormill and Stiura]

Operational Headquarters, Guangfeng

"Well that took longer than expected ..." Van Horn began, speaking mostly to himself with a junior officer in close proximity, "But - it seems like we're at the point we can start thinking about post-Roermond operations, and ending this whole PLF thing."

"Sir?", the junior officer began, "Do you think we'll be staying in Orsandia once the imminent threat of the PLF is resolved?"

"As far as I know, political machinations suggest that most of us will be leaving, with a token anti-terrorism force, maybe even League Peacekeepers." the general responds, turning in his subordinate's direction. "I'll be thinking that decision over and determining who stays and who rotates out. But I expect most of the Army will be involved here for most of the next several years, the PLF will be hard to root out in the east."

As the pair continue their conversation, the base remains alive with activity as the war is far from over. The front-lines are reaching a point of reversal as PLF momentum in the area surrounding Roremond began to wane in mid-October, their advantage in numbers has been severely reduced, their materiel has been draining faster and faster ever since the international response to both the Thuzbeks and Samuderans solidified. There are suspicions that some other elements remain involved, supplying the PLF or preparing them for a long-term guerrilla war in the hinterlands of Urching, a very tenuous political position for the United Republics to be in as every passing week without discernible progress is another week given to the administrations' political rivals to spin lies and half-truths about what President Dyson is really doing in Orsandia.

Roermond

As for the city of Roermond itself, the major elements of the battle has long dissipated after the PLF advance was blunted and thrown back across the river, leaving Orsandian and Dormill-Stiuraian forces free reign to press the advantage. By now, the largest pockets of PLF forces are within spitting distance of Urching proper, with other less sizable but still significant encircled units throughout the route the former conquering army took to try and take Roermond. The Orsandians had elected to continue pushing forward while their Dormill-Stiuraian counterparts remained back to secure supply lines and crush pockets of resistance, a job they were surprisingly good at, especially with helpful Orsandian citizens.

In one such small town, cut off from the rest of Orsandia by land thanks to the fighting, has been a focal point of recent Dormill-Stiuraian efforts, as the PLF has attacked supply convoys moving in the area, or directly attacking the civilians.

"So what's the situation with you?", a Dormill-Stiuraian Sargent inquired to a local.

"In short, we're pretty sure the PLF has set up a mortar position in the abandoned town a few kilometers southeast of here, they bomb us indiscriminately every so often, or sally out to attack food and water trucks that try to come into town. Power has been spotty ever since the PLF arrived, water clearly hasn't been much better, they might have seized control of our water treatment facility and garrisoned there as well, we hadn't been able to go after them ourselves. They might have a machine gun up there, or something powerful enough to hold their position. That's all I know.", the old man responded, trying his best to speak French or English, blending the two and stumbling some words.

"Thank you, sir.", the Sargent responded, "We'll do what we can to keep this town fed, warm, and hydrated until we can deal with the PLF here. Until then, stay safe."

[Thuzbekistan]

At the Docks, South of Lihai, Orsandia

Serhan watched as the last small boatload of marines left the shore. While the route was still open, the marines had withdrawn. They would go through Samudera, though the route could be closed any day.

"Our mission is no longer Tenable," their commander had said days ago before they began withdrawing. "We allowed the PLF to bring their full force against the enemy and gave them every edge they needed, yet they failed. It's time for us to go home."

After Roremond, the Allied forces had pushed through to Lahpso Taha, which was only lightly damaged by the war. Soon after, they began mopping up the surrounding area, consolidating their gains for the eventual push on Lihai. But as the marines disappeared into the night, Serhan was unsure of how much of a push was needed. Yong Jun had increasingly pulled away from command, often sinking back to his quarters without speaking to anyone. This left the commanders of Group C to try and maintain order in Lihai, but desertions were becoming common. It was clear that it was over. There wasn't any communication between what was left of Shaozan's Division and the rest of the PLF. It was unclear how many had even escaped.

"When do you think that will be us?" Varmend asked as they walked back towards the truck.

"Couple days at most." Serhan said slowly. "Yalcin is breaking down the Listening posts and the Naval Inteligence guy has already left."

Varmend didn't respond as they got into the truck and made the perilous, dark journey back to downtown Lihai, where the PLF had moved their headquarters.

Soon, they had arrived back at base. Unlike White Hill and Urching, security was significantly lighter. One or two armed guards and some commanders huddled in the basement of a downtown shop. It looked more like a band of gangsters now than an army. They stopped the truck and walked inside without question. As they did, Serhan could feel the guards staring back at them over their red bandannas they had worn for weeks now. When they reached the backroom where the map of Urching was rolled out, no one in the room really moved.

"Did your marines get out ok?" asked quietly.

"Yes," Serhan answered.

Yong shifted in his seat and looked over the map. It was covered in red x's and question marks. "We've lost contact with most everyone further than a couple miles away from Lihai. Shaozan may have been captured. Thousands of my men are dead." He looked up at Serhan. "But at least your marines got away."

"I suppose," Varmend said cautiously.

Yong shook his head slowly, then sat back in his chair. "They'll be coming here next."

"I know." Serhan sat as he said it. In the distance, an explosion rocked the edge of downtown followed by the roar of a jet. Even as it passed overhead, no one jumped. "Won't be long before they roll in. Logistics will be problem for them since they bombarded the whole place, plus there are some PLF units still fighting out there." He leaned forward and looked over the map. "They won't last long, though. Spec 9 was wiped out outside of Roremond. Before they were, they reported Dormill-Stiuraian squads moving through and taking out the pockets that the Orsandians bypassed. The Oster jets may be decreasing in number, but they are almost always accurate, too."

Varmend shook his head solemnly as he listened. "Some of our guys got out. But we've lost three spec-teams since Roremond. Their counterattack took them all. They were our best source of intel. For all we know, the Orsandians could be rolling down the highway to Lihai at any moment."

"So, Yong," Serhan said slowly. "We don't have many options left. But we do have a few hours left to get essential personnel out. We could take you back to Thuzbekistan. Maybe set you up there, a new life."

Yong sat quietly in his chair as he listened. "I guess I could move there. Somehow collect my wife. I just..." He watched some PLF dart from one building to the next, wincing in pain as their worn boots and shoes ran through the rubble. "I don't think I can. We started all of this for a better future, a better Orsandia. One that lived for the worker, that expelled corruption wherever it was found. But instead, we find ourselves in ruin." He looked up at Varmend and Serhan, his face slightly contorted as he tried to hide a tear. "If only you Thuzbek bastards had been more willing to send real help. You gave us guns, you gave us token forces. You gave us intelligence. But you refused to help us when it counted."

"We could only make due with what we were given. We have men who died out there. In the front lines." Serhan spoke slowly. "Just like you, mothers in Thuzbekistan have lost their sons-"

"I don't want to hear about your women, Serhan," Yong growled back at him. "You boys are the ones who started this fight but you didn't have the balls to finish it. Your marines died when they were retreating. My Son died helping to plan the attacks, at the head of the army. He fought and died for this cause and all you can do is sit there and lecture me about your sacrifice."

"Yong..."

"No, I don't give a damn!" He yelled as he slammed his fist into the table. "My son died to do what the only socialist power left couldn't do! I'll be damned if I ever step foot in a nation without the balls to do what's right!"

"We didn't mean it that way," Varmend said slowly, his hand near his handgun. "We are trying to ensure you have a way to come back and win."

"If I leave here, I will never be able to live with myself." Yong stared at the men as he stood. "I'll stay here and I'll die with my men. And, If I'm lucky, I'll see you fuckers in hell."

The trio stood still for a long moment.

"Fine." Serhan finally said. "You can stay. But we cannot."

"It's better if you leave now then."

The Thuzbeks glanced at each other, then Serhan stood and stuck out his hand. "Good luck, Y-"

"Save it and leave before I shoot you."

Serhan nodded and grabbed his bag before walking away with Varmend close behind. Once the pair had left the building, Varmend caught up.

"We shouldn't just leave him." Varmend said as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "He's a security risk."

"And what should we do, brother? Shoot him? Take him with us?" He snorted. "He won't die alone and we've already been blown to hell anyway. We have three spec teams and a few hundred marines dead on the field."

"Still, that's confirmation..." Varmend said nervously as they got back into the truck.

"It doesn't matter," Serhan said as he looked out at the destroyed downtown area. "It's over."

[Dormill and Stiura]

Lihai, Urching Autonomous Region, Orsandia

---

Over half a year of being worn down by battle and occupation has not done to city well when it came to its appearances. Most of the air was still chocked by smoke and other particulates, rendering the former skyline a drab grey most of the day, broken only by radiant oranges and reds as the sun rose and fell past it. Further in, the signs of the original battle were still evident, Dormill-Stiuraian, Orsandian, and even Ahnslen equipment and vehicles in various states of disrepair clog the cratered streets, added to them are the many thousands of bullets and spent casings that litter what remains, some having drifted into the sewage system and into the Southern Sea. When the Orsandians soldiers returned to the city, many simply remained silent, contemplating the abject horror of all they had lost in the past half a year, the Dormill-Stiuraians attempted to hide their shame at failing to hold the city the first time, the first defeat of the United Republics' armed forces in well over a generation, and not even to a conventional enemy.

The remains of the PLF presence in the city fled or surrendered at the first signs of the incoming forces, a stubborn holdout was made by some in the train station, which lasted about as long as it took for a guided shell to tear open the northern end of the terminal, where the bulk of that group's ammo was stored. Even days later some still hear the remaining munitions cooking off, luckily at that point it was only the small caliber rounds, the big stuff went off as soon as the shell hit.

A question sprang up in the rank and file as to what to do with the PLF prisoners, no prison in Dormill and Stiura was actually capable of holding such a population, nor was anybody willing to attract the ire of the League further by simply letting them die in makeshift custody. As of the moment, no answer has come up for it, not even Van Horn had an answer. Everybody knew that there would be plenty of Orsandians begging for blood to be paid back to them, but that would help nobody, especially those who lost their loved ones in the fighting. The next question after that was of the fate of the hundreds of thousands, even millions, of displaced Orsandians scattered throughout Gael. It would take years to repair Lihai to what it was, probably a while to make it even livable again. This was obviously a question for the politicians but without the National Congress, and other events occupying the time of other governments, doubts are abound as to whether that will be answered.

The immediate threat might have been defeated, but The Spectre of this war will be felt for years to come.

[Samudera]

A drop of waters hit his face, as the gloomy sky finally shed his tears in the midst of Lihai's ruins. A few troops could be seen running for shelter in the periphery of his vision, while the song of birds could still be heard on a tree next to him. As the drop of waters slowly turned into a proper rain, he still stood transfixed to the sight of the once mighty city of Lihai. He couldn't tear his gaze off the city, still awed by the sheer magnitude of the destruction of the city.

Sounds of feet thumping against the wet grass could be heard from behind him, yet he didn't turn around to look at the source of the sound. Once he might've turned around, preparing for an imminent attack. But not now. That time was over.

The person sat beside him, soaked with rainwater as he was. "We made it," the person said.

"We made it, yes. We escaped the death, but this city didn't."

They sat still afterwards. Five minutes. Ten minutes. The rain didn't show any sign of stopping any soon, but they kept sitting, looking at the ruins that once was a city in front of them.

"What's next?" the person next to him asked.

"I don't know," he said, with a tinge of sadness. And despair.

"We didn't escape the death, just for us to be rot away in this godforsaken land, right?"

"No, of course not," he replied. He wanted to say more but couldn't find the right words to express his feeling. "There will always be a way. We always find a way, don't we?"

The person next to him smiled. "Yes, of course. Just as you always find a way to lie to me every time."

"Jesus, woman. Please don't bring that again. Hit me if you still hold grudges for me."

The woman smiles turned into a laugh as she hit him lightly. "C'mon, let's get up and find a place to shelter ourselves. I don't want to nurse you if you got flu again."

He reluctantly got up, as he followed her back to their place. Maybe their life could get better after this. After all, the war has ended. He just hoped SAFI would never find him again and the Orsandian would be content with leaving him here. He hoped. Bima hoped.