NationStates

double post delete

The figure in black, still perhaps a hundred yards out, stopped and stared at the scene, hands on hips. After a few moments, they unslung what looked like an oversize grenade launcher from their back. Casually making some adjustments, they hefted the bulky weapon and fired a single round at the nearest IFV. A HEAT round screamed at impossibly high speed directly into the flank of the vehicle, even as the attacker dropped the weapon and simply stood to watch its effect, leaning casually against a maintenance shed.

---

Sargent Gordeev, 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon
Saint Joseph's Airport.

"Davai-davai-davai," Sargent Vysheslavtsev, yelled as the ramp dropped. He could see the tarmac and the cargo flat the IFV used to be attached to just out the back. "Two Teams, Yefréytor Stasov, take your team on to the left side of the T-15M2!" He barked as he grabbed the Machinegunner and a rifle man right, to the side of the IFV. The 4 IFV's fired into the militia slaughtering them wholesale as they stopped harassing the civilian's and legged it for the nearest cover.

"Greshnev set you PKP here," He ordered pushing the soldier ahead of him while he shouldered his rifle aiming at a Militant member that dropped his rifle and was fleeing. A half breath later he pulled the trigger and the man fell. He then advanced and layed down beside Greshnev who had began to pick off targets as they fled using his Machine gun. Looking left he could see PFC Stasov set up with his two men; a rifle man and a man with an RPG slung over his shoulder. That's when he saw him, he wore all black and a what looked like to him a bikers mask; just standing there. He swore that the man was scowling at them like they were ruining his day. He then whipped out an RPG and took aim at the T-15M2.

"O blyad'!" Vysheslavtsev swore loudly. "Stasov! Your Left! Contact to Your Left!" he then grabbed at his radio. "Junior sergeant Gordeev, 9 o Clock, AT threat!" It was too late, the combatant fired the RPG which was going to strike the side of the T-15. Vysheslavtsev manged to yell before covering his head as the RPG sailed towards them. "Bogi, sokhrani nas."

Inside Junior Sergeant Gordeev's IFV.

---

"Junior sergeant Gordeev, 9 o Clock, AT threat!" crakled over the headsets in the tank. The gunner reacted first swiviling the gun around to meet the threat. However Gordeev knew that he didn't have enough engage. In a split second he had activated the smoke canisters and jammed the primer for the "Афганит" active protection system. A small IR camera on the left side of the IFV picked up the muzzle flashes from a half dozen rifles being fired at the front of the vehicle and the large one of the RPG. The shell exiting the barrel was almost white hot which flipped the switch of the vehicles anti tank countermeasures. In a matter of seconds the "Афганит" active protection system went through a few scenarios until one matched the situation. Using one of the plates. Small plates of ceramic tile sit behind each camera with enough explosive to hurl the plate to deflect all sorts of antitank options but mostly ATGM's. The plate was readied in seconds and as soon as it was in position, it fired it sending the plate hurtling almost 40 seconds before impact. The plate smashed into the incoming projectile exploding it in the process and it in return showered the left with bits of shrapnel. The gunner swiveled the gun around and brought the full arsenal of the T-15M2 upon on the militant unleashing the DUBM-30 RWST with 422A 30 mm automatic cannon and a long burst from they KPK 9.5mm Machine-gun.

A Flight, No. X (Bomber) Squadron CAF, approaching Pepper Atoll

---

As with all other bomber squadrons of the Carlosian Air Force, No. X (Bomber) Squadron CAF was named 'Dis', after the City of Dis featured in Dante's The Divine Comedy. No. XI Squadron was similarly labelled 'Pandæmonium'. Like a flight of great albatrosses flying over the ocean, the flight of N94 Alphonse strategic bombers from Dis Squadron maintained their flight path towards Pepper Atoll, scanning the horizon for any attempt by the enemy to intercept the three aircraft, while continuing to maintain absolute radio silence. It would be incredibly unlikely that the Manaagnwe Militia would be aware of an impending attack, considering the fact that they almost certainly lacked the radar or expertise to detect the bombers, which had a low-RCS design. Their large combat range meant that they would not need to be refuelled for the duration of the flight, and could immediately return back to CAF Mediator once their mission had been executed.

They weren't on their own, however. An AEW&C aircraft assigned to the CN Ebon, which relayed information to the flight via satellite-based data link, was scanning the archipelago for contacts, giving them a reasonable chance to evade any threats well before they became within firing range. Meanwhile, a squadron of F21 Blue Jay fighters and two Messier electronic warfare aircraft were launched to maintain a continual, rotating escort formation around the AEW&C, ready to ward off any attempts by the enemy to destroy it, if the Militia even knew it was there. Checking their navigation systems, the crews of the N94s knew that the time to rain hell down upon Pepper Atoll was now imminent, seeing that they were approximately 400 kilometres out from St Joseph, well within the range of the S730 Requiem air-launched cruise missiles they were carrying.

Silently, the bay doors of each bomber opened up, dropping missile after missile down, motionless at first, but then violently igniting their engines and rushing forward. One after the other, 48 in total, they dived beneath the clouds to a low altitude as to counter enemy radar. The stealthy Requiem missiles went at subsonic speed initially, quickly accelerating to transonic speeds when they got closer to the islands. Once they were within a few kilometres of their targets, the missiles violently climbed into the sky, their nose cones popping off to reveal an all-seeing infrared homing unit that would perform a final scan for targets, using a form of automatic target recognition that utilised a combination of sensor data and pro-loaded information.

The S730 Requiem then performed its penultimate manoeuvre, diving towards the enemy; fortifications, SAM launchers, lorries, technicals, airfields and concentrated sources of radio frequencies and communications as picked up by SIGINT, sending an unknown number of enemies straight into the fires of hell with a combination of 470 kgs worth of cluster munitions or penetrator warheads, depending on the target. Because of its potential usefulness to a future Carlosian assault operation, St Joseph's airport was not targeted. After launching the last of their missiles, the N94 Alphonse bombers looped around and began to fly back to Mediator Island, knowing that their job here was done, for now anyway. It could take some time before Carlosian forces had any idea of the damage they had dealt to the Militia, if any. In the meantime, they awaited the return of the CN Erméa, the Northford and the results of their investigation into the fate of the Brytisc warships.

St Joseph Airport

---

As the smoke cleared, the figure in black turned away and stepped behind the shed. As the militia in the airport itself attempted to hold their own against the newcomers, a series of distant thumps shook the air. A few moments later, a shrieking noise betrayed the response of the Militia to this unwanted incursion. Mortar shells began to crash around the detachment of Krystovian soldiers and vehicles, before pings and clangs and harsh cracks heralded the arrival of snipers. This was the technique that had let the Militia survive for so long against the better-equipped and trained Brytisc Fleet. Fighting from the city, at range, they rained down with murderous intent on the invaders, careless of any casualties to their own survivors or the Hrystic civilians trapped in the crossfire. Further away, the rumble of engines and distant yells echoed through the uneven and winding streets of St Joseph.

Pepper Atoll

---

The Carlosian assault was as precise as it was powerful, but the constant danger of fighting an asymmetric war was that the Militia was usurping civilian infrastructure for its purposes, and it did not parade itself in uniforms and military paint schemes.

In the jungle, a half-dozen SAM launchers were caught off-guard, turned into so much slag by the high explosives screaming down from the skies. Several bases and munitions dumps were also caught, those not well-hidden by the jungle crafts of the Manaagnwe Militia, and though they were not obliterated to a man, the damage was extensive.

In St Joseph and the more settled areas, the missiles struck with impunity, adding yet more chaos to the embers of the previous assaults. This time it was the Militia who ran for cover alongside the general population, although they blended in far better than the Brytisc marines had ever done. Already, the show of force that had seen the Militia seize the Atoll seemed to be fading, and Captain Explosion had already reverted to the instincts of years of guerilla warfare and was hesistant to send troops directly to the airfield, instead preferring to harass them at long range. The brutal close-quarters assault that had driven off the Brytisc was not to be repeated it seemed, at least not yet.

Colonel Cutuu was furious. The fisher-men had tricked him into sending some of his best men to attack Whitebay on some ludicrous scheme, and now he was undermanned and under attack by some new foreign devils, no doubt here to pick over the bones of Pepper Atoll. What's more, the fisher-men were now nowhere to be found. The dockmaster's office was empty. He had understood, instinctively, that their alliance had always been one of convenience, not of mutual respect or common purpose, but barely had the last Brytisc scrambled off the island had the men in black disappeared, leaving him and his Militia to face the vagaries of the international community, exhausted from their battle with the occupying milk-chuggers.

So be it. He had spent years bleeding the Brytisc, and if some new fools wished to come and water the groves with their blood then they were welcome to do so...

Castle Oakhall

---

The Bretwalda was incredulous. He had summoned the various great and good of Brytene, and in front of him were half a dozen of his finest advisors and leaders. Arminius of R-DARK, Fleet Commander Forge and Fleet Admiral Boras were chief among them, and between them they had nothing he wished to hear.

"So to clarify, he began, taking another swig of Mead "there are now Krystovan ground forces attacking St Joseph, Carlosian airstrikes softening it up for Gods-know-what, the fucking Militia are approaching Whitebay, and on top of all that now you're telling me Base Gramr wasn't evacuated?!"

Forge shifted uneasily. He was already at a loss to explain how, after years of keeping them easily contained, the Militia had caught him off-guard and routed the Marines at Pepper Atoll. Base Gramr had dropped from radio contact soon after the fighting had begun, except for one message late last night confirming that the base was sealed and the personnel were still present, under the command of General Matthias Ossenbrugge.

Arminius rescued him. "It was perhaps extreme, but protocol in events such as this is to lock down the facility. Any attempt to relieve the base or evacuate it would have resulted in defeat, and potentially compromising the base and allowing for the capture of sensitive information and equipment by whoever took a shine to it. As things stand, it is hidden and secure."

Cenwulf snorted derisively. "Sensitive! I'll say! So the plan is just to hide it and wait?"

Arminius thought for a moment and then shrugged, slowly and expansively. "It's the only course that makes sense."

"... right. Well since you're not doing anything else, I assume you're on the heels of these bastards who've been helping the Militia?"

"I have some leads, sir."

Cenwulf harrumphed. He knew the reclusive spymaster well enough to know he wouldn't get any more information out of him, so he gestured at Forge and Botas.

"Then our priority is to scour these Militia shits from the ocean, keep our borders secure. Picture a sea eagle stooping on fish. That's what I want."

Room 4408

---

Alife woke with a start, crying out. Almost instantly, a figure stepped through the door. A middle-aged soldier, with an uron-grey goatee, leathery face and flinty grey-blue eyes, his face expressed faint concern, but then he smiled and glanced back out into the corridor. When he spoke, his voice was a little hoarse, and laced with a sardonic tone. "Captain, you're awake. Sleep well?"

For a moment anger swelled in Aoife, the bitterness that had been welling up inside her ever since she had awoken in Whitebay, but then she let out a laugh.

"What time is it?" she asked, fumbling for the bed controls and convincing it, with a little effort, to sit her upright.

"Time for you to eat up." the soldier replied, nodding towards a covered tray by her bed. Aoife took in his uniform, which looked a little out-of-date but betrayed him as a sergeant of the Highlands Regiment.

"Who exactly are you?" she asked, tipping the lid off her tray and finding a ham and swiss sandwich, some baby carrots and a jello cup.

"Sergeant Richard Hauer. My job is to stop you losing any more body parts." he said, still staring down the corridor.

---

Café Victoire, Madrigal; Carloso

---

"According to my friends in La Marina, its quite easy - but that's besides the point, we can assume if the Bryts know your carrier group is active then so to do all their friends.
Of course this is hardly our concern, just a major liability for any insertion or extraction from the island should the cockroaches of the north come back for a counter-attack. "

"I would guess it would be easier to try first, then assess the results. You know more about them than I do, but I figure if we approach them with recognition in exchange for intel asking them to curb the bloodlust, they wouldn't want to fight longer than need be for no reason, would they?." Alfanso shrugged his hand. Grader had already answered two of his three questions, being: 1) are the militia worth getting a hold of 2) would the Carlosians get a hold of them with or for Inyursta, and the last unanswered million dollar question was 3) could Carloso get a hold of them?

---

Carlosian Waters

---

Juarez went from a near stand-still pace to a more steady forward push as the vessel and her crew entered the 75km territorial limit of Carlosian waters. Before coming to the surface, it moved into the long-range radar shadow of a passing civilian (presumably) vessel and gently tucked its upper deck to the air as the waves slowly rolled back and off of the submarine as it followed the clutter of passing vessels towards a nearby Carlosian naval port.

---

(WIP) Airbase; Carloso

---

The Inyurstan SV-2 "Blindspot" UAV had landed safely and successfully on Carlosian soil. Because the mission was aborted before the drone reached the Brytsic coast, it had little intel to offer besides random short-range data about isolated ship and aircraft movements over the Fale Ocean, likely none of which were military or of any strategic, operational or tactical importance at this moment.
Until a team could be dispatched from Inyursta to recover the drone and its contents, it was effectively in the custody of the Carlosian Air Force, or whoever they decided should take care of it.

CN Erméa, somewhere north of Pepper Atoll

---

After arriving above the shipwreck of the helicopter carrier CFS Hawkmoth, the bay doors of the CN Erméa creaked open to allow the boat's UUV descend begin its investigation into what exactly happened to this dead warship. Painted a sort of dark blue colour, it was easily lost in the darkness of the open ocean, activating its floodlights once it had separated itself a reasonable distance away from the submarine. It was tethered by a long, thick grey cable that both powered the drone via the boat's reactor and allowed data to be relayed back and forth from the UUV and its operator. As it crept further and further downwards, the great reel of cable in the bay was gradually spinning itself thinner and thinner. It was after a few more minutes of gradual descent, wading through some startled shoals of fish on the way down, that the first glimpses of the sunken warship became fully clear. It was not a pretty sight.

"Jesus Christ." Hatfield whispered to himself as he saw the aftermath of the Hawkmoth's destruction. Explosions had appeared to have torn pieces of the hull off in all directions, creating a wide field of debris that stretched dozens of metres in all directions. Fish were already reclaiming the wreckage for themselves, a shocked threefin blenny retreating further into the depths of the ship when it found itself caught in the UUV's gaze.

After about five minutes, the camera came across the first of the ship's dead crew; a glassy-eyed marine in the engine room with a bullet hole marked squarely on his forehead. The UUV tilted its lens upwards slightly and flooded the entire room with light, revealing scores more corpses with clear gunshot wounds. "Sir, you better see this. I don't think it was a submarine that took down this ship." Hatfield stressed, "Every single one of them was shot dead."

Commander Botín squinted at the video feed that was coming through. "They were boarded? Maybe there was a mutiny?"

"Hard to say." Hatfield replied, "Any of this doesn't match typical torpedo damage. Whatever took her down exploded near or directly on the hull. Could of been limpet charges or maybe mines. It would of taken an inside job to allow boarders to attack the ship undetected. Any radar would of picked up the craft long before it came anywhere close to the ship."

Botín sighed, "Right. We'll need to relay this back to High Command as soon as possible. This changes the story completely, now that we know there could possibly be traitors in the Brytisc military."

After scanning the engine room, the drone moved on to examine the deck of the helicopter carrier, picking up some charred fragments of hull for its storage bins as it went along. Next, it found the orange VDR. Since it was almost certainly encrypted, Botín reasoned that there was probably no point in recovering it, unless they had the patience to wait a decade for it to be decoded. Anyway, it would be too heavy for the UUV to drag back onto the submarine. Sweeping over the flight deck, its camera revealed the shattered remains of helicopters that were tossed all over the place, slowly but surely on the way to being broken down and recycled by the sea, waiting eternally for their pilots to return to fly them once more.

Once the main parts of the wreckage had been examined thoroughly, including the bridge, the drone looked at some smaller chunks of debris before rotating around and returning back to the safety of the Erméa's mission bay, brimming with information that would surely be pertinent to the investigation into the fate of the Brytisc task force. Satisfied, the two submarines rose to periscope depth and sent a brief encrypted message to the CN Ebon and her battlegroup.

Code: Select all

Encryption: RED
From: CN Erméa/CDR Botín
To: CN Ebon/VADM Mercer
Subject: Hawkmoth
Classification: RESTRICTED

Hawkmoth was located. All is OK. UUV deployed. No evidence of torpedo attack. Gunshot wounds all over dead crew. Returning home.

Commander Anthony Botín

Department of the President of the Executive Council, Madrigal, Carloso

---

A look of grave concern broke across President Tobón's face as he read the report supplied by the commanding officer of the CN Ebon about the fate of the Brytisc warships, complete with details regarding the investigation by the submarines. As he turned the pages, he saw photo after photo of charred human remains, some laced with bullet holes. Tobón quickly realised himself that what he was looking at wasn't the work of a torpedo, but clearly that of a traitor within the Brytisc ranks. There was no other way that this could of happened. On a more strategic level, this threw into question his order to commence moving forces for the 'liberation' of Pepper Atoll. Regardless, it had been very prudent of him to order an up-close investigation by the Battlegroup's submarine force. They now had a much clearer picture of what was going on here. Surrounding Tobón were the members of Carlosian Armed Forces Security Committee, as well as Santander.

"This wasn't the work of a submarine. Its 100% an inside job." Santander bellowed, "I don't know of many torpedo attacks that ended up with sailors and marines riddled with gunshot wounds."

Admiral Salazar shook his head. "This changes everything. Responding with an assault on the island won't look good for any of us, now that we know the Brytisc government probably weren't responsible. The same people who allowed this to happen probably managed to smuggle those old air defence systems onto Pepper Atoll. I imagine they didn't even know about it until you contacted Teorell, sir."

Tobón was in a state of deep concentration, trying to calculate his next move. This news would complicated everything they had presumed before, but it was finally starting to make sense now. Deep down, he had known such a vicious assault had been very suspicious from the very beginning, and there was indeed one part of this jigsaw puzzle which felt very out of place. His sombre eyes turned upwards to look at Salazar blankly. "The Brytisc destroyer; the Ascension, no evidence was found of its wreck on the seafloor." Tobón said in a monotone voice, "And it disappeared off Carlosian radar shortly afterwards. Do we know where it went?"

"No, I'm afraid." Salazar replied, "It must of returned to Brytene. There's no mention of her in the SIGINT that we gathered. Its a conventionally powered warship so it couldn't have travelled that far without being refuelled by a friendly tanker."

Tobón rose from his chair. "We won't tell the Bryts about this. God only knows what is really going on here, but I feel like it is only part of something bigger that is coming down the line." the President suggested, "We'll keep our battlegroups stationed nearby. Torell will come running to us for help when he realises there is a plot in his own ranks against him." He sauntered over to a window, the eyes of his subordinates following him, "It makes perfect sense, you know. Any rational Brytisc nationalist, if there is any, would turn their nose up at that fat bollocks if they knew he was the one responsible for the loss of an entire province to a glorified drug cartel."

There was a long silence. "You're all dismissed." he said, continuing to stare out the window, "Except you, Santander. Stay." Everyone but Santander silently shuffled out the door, leaving him alone with Tobón in the office.

"Advise me, Estebán." Tobón muttered hoarsely, "I've jumped the gun."

Santander blinked and glanced at President Tobón's back. Whatever trap had been laid in Pepper Atoll, it looked like the President felt like he was defeated by stumbling into it. He couldn't back out now after expressly demanding retribution from the Brytisc government. "Leave this to me, sir." Santander said, "My men can be deployed there within a week. We've already destroyed their air defences."

"You'll make quick work?" Tobón asked, half sarcastically.

Estebán grinned. "Yes. It takes a non-state actor to destroy another non-state actor after all. We learnt that in Bangka." he assured him, "I'll contact Pang Qian."

Tobón softly nodded. "All shall be weighed in time, Estebán." he finished, waving his Minister for Internal Affairs off. The door clicked as he left.

MV Saint Ormond, somewhere far-south of Pepper Atoll

---

The MV Saint Ormond, gently cruising through the vast oceans of the world alongside its escort vessels, was one of the most powerful tools in Conquistador Security Consulting's arsenal, symbolising strongly the recent growth of such companies into prominent positions worldwide. Capable of fielding firepower greater then that of many small to medium-sized countries, private military corporations like Conquistador or the Nifonese Bushido Solutions were in many way a direct response to the growth of non-state actors in the international arena. They were useful tools for governments looks to veil responsibility for military operations, more flexible to respond to new threats and not typically obliged to pretend to go along with such frivolous nonsense as international law or, ethics so-called human 'rights'. In the new global political order, on every front of every war, this new superpower was raking in billions worth in contracts with democracies, dictators and terrorists alike. Most PMCs were driven by the goal of greater and greater levels of profit to the benefit of the company shareholders, however, at Conquistador, only one thing drove its expansion; the lust for power and influence.

At first it flew fast over the horizon, under the backdrop of the setting Sun, an aircraft that looked like the bastard child of a plane and a helicopter. It was massive, looking like something that really shouldn't be able to land on a boat out in the middle of the ocean, but it came closer nonetheless. Once it got within a few hundred metres of the Saint Ormond, it appeared to maneuver to face the bow of the ship, its wings suddenly rotating upwards to an almost 90° angle, causing it to begin to hover and slow down. Eventually, it found itself directly over the flight deck of the ship and began to descend, its rotors creating strong vortexes of air as it came down. Flashing lights lit up its dark grey fuselage, revealing the logo and name of Conquistador Security Consulting on its side. Of course, this was a Carlosian-manufactured D97 Cormorant tiltwing transport aircraft, carrying none other then Estebán Santander, Managing Director and owner of Conquistador.

The rotors of the Cormorant wound down, Santander walking out of the cargo bay as its doors opened, flanked by two security personnel. As his feet hit the surface of the flight deck, he produced and lit up a cigar, carefully observing his surroundings. Wearing a business suit and blue tie, he immediately stood out amongst the heavily clad Conquistador operators. He turned to face the bridge of the ship, seeing a certain individual with distinctive Wenchuan facial features and a crimson beret approach him. "Mr Zi Jia, its a pleasure to finally meet you." Santander began, the two men embracing each other. Zi bowed before Santander, a gesture he returned.

"Mr Santander, I am honoured by your presence. I can assure you that I will guide your men well in the battles to come. Lord Pang Qian sends his regards." the Wenchuan commander bellowed, looking at Santander with a steely, almost statue-like expression. His face bore the scars of many years of non-stop war in his homeland, a country ruined by constant fighting as rivalling ideologies and tribes tried to seize control of it, leaving hundreds of millions dead. Seeing hundreds of friends and family members die had utterly desensitised the man to the point where he now had only one desire in life; to serve the Lord Pang Qian and aid him in his righteous crusade to expel the Red Menace.

"I appreciate his business." Santander coughed, "Years of war has worn your armies down. Its only natural we Carlosians and the Nifonese would help you in restoring it, in return for your manpower and expertise of course." Estebán paused for a moment, "Here, let's take this inside. We'll talk about whats ahead of us in private."

Several minutes later, and the two men were in a small room somewhere underneath the ship's bridge, looming over a map of Pepper Atoll.

"Several days ago the submarine CN Erméa investigated the shipwrecks of two Brystic warships which had been supposedly sunk by what were thought to have been torpedoes. Analysis of data revealed by a underwater drone that was deployed to examine the wrecks tells a very, very different story General Zi." Santander began to explain, taking out several photographs of the wreck site from his pocket and handing them to the Wenchuan soldier. He could see the bodies riddled with gunshots. "We don't know what exactly happened yet, but it points towards either a mutiny amongst the crew or a boarding attempt." he continued, "However, radar would of picked up any boarders long before they got anywhere close to the ship. This was almost certainly an inside job."

General Zi placed the photos down onto the map. "I see. Then tell me, Mr Santander; why is Carloso interested in Pepper Atoll?"

Estebán laughed a bit. "A good question. Carloso and the rest of SACTO are aware of hundreds, maybe even thousands of non-state actors that have been attempting to reshape the international order for years. However, recently it looks like they have been trying to accelerate their efforts. Just look at Zabolekhovye, Oceanica, and now most recently in Bangka and New Edom. Conquistador is cooperating with the government to counter these forces on every front, especially when they need to deny accountability." He put a cigar to his mouth, "Forgive me, but we wouldn't be here if I hadn't managed to talk Tobón out of a war with Brytene over that little incident. He can be a bit hot-headed at times."

Zi nodded. "I believe you have organised transport of my men to your ship?"

"I'm putting you in command of the task force, Mr Zi. Our Cormorants will fly your men in from Wenchua. You've a free hand once they're here." Santander said.

"Excellent, Mr Santander. I can't wait to begin." Zi smiled, glaring longingly at the map of Pepper Atoll.

"Remember Mr Zi, we are both equals on this great journey that has been decades in the making. Many great men and women yearn to see Wenchua free and united sooner rather then later." Santander assured him, noticing his gaze, "One day your country will stand alongside Carloso and Nifon as vanguards of humanity's destiny and together we'll exterminate this fucking red cancer. I don't know whats happening in Pepper Atoll or even in Brytene, but we'll discover more once we've boots on the ground. The Bryts don't know it yet, but I think they're in for one hell of a surprise."

With that, they returned to the flight deck and Santander departed the ship, flying back to Carloso to attend to other matters, leaving General Zi Jia in charge of the operations in Pepper Atoll.

Order of Battle

---

Task Force Alpha
1 × St Anthony-class maritime support ship (MV Saint Ormond)

• 2 × D97 Cormorant transport aircraft
• 2 × A53 Ladrón gunships
• UAV facilities

1 × Bergamini-class guided missile frigate

• 1 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopter
• UAV facilities

3 × Gowind-class corvettes

• 1 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopter
• 2 × H35 Quirón AEW helicopters
• UAV facilities

1 × Type 214 attack submarine
1 × Trinidad-class replenishment ship

MV Saint Ormond, somewhere far-south of Pepper Atoll

---

The hanger doors of the MV Saint Ormond whined open, lights flashing and amid a bustle of personnel who scuttled across the flight deck. From the darkness, a feared A53 Ladrón tilt-wing gunship emerged, bristling with armaments. A pair of 30 mm three-barrelled autocannons were clearly visible, pointing from either side of the aircraft. As it rolled itself further out from the hanger and onto the deck, another pair of 30 mm autocannons appeared, followed by a fearsome looking two-barrelled 105 mm howitzer in the back. While merely an uparmoured and uparmed D97 Cormorant transport tilt-wing, the Ladrón (the Spanish, masculine term for 'robber' or 'thief') exerted a intimidating presence onboard the ship, painted in dark grey colours and with the logo of Conquistador Security Consulting clearly displayed on the side. Ground crew continued to guide the menacing weapon of war as it rolled out, its wings rotating to a almost 90° angle as its four rotors began to twist into life. Representing the pinnacle of Carlosian engineering and military rearmament, it was pertinent that this technological marvel fulfil into duties well in Pepper Atoll. Its durability and sheer firepower ensured that this would be a near certainty.

Veiled under the darkness of night, the A53 Ladrón began to raise itself off the ground, retracting its wheels into its fuselage. General Zi Jia looked on from a distance, cigarette in hand, admiring the gunship, quiet unlike anything he had ever seen before. He couldn't help but think that such a war machine would be ideal for the fighting back in Wenchua, surpassing the archaic helicopters Pang Qian's forces usually operated in manoeuvrability, firepower and durability.

While it was armoured and equipped with various decoy launchers, it was still vulnerable to MANPADs, which had now been proliferated so freely amongst various non-state actors. No doubt, the Militia in Pepper Atoll had their fair share of these weapons, though General Jia could bank on the fact that many were likely out of date, like the SAMs that engaged the Carlosian fighters, and more then likely were not very well maintained and could be faulty. Still, the A53 Ladrón was an expensive asset and the loss of even one would be a serious blow to Task Force Alpha's warfighting capabilities. The A53 Ladrón did a lap around the Saint Ormon, demonstrating its abilities to General Jia and an attentive gaggle of Wenchuan soldiers.

From the rear of the MV Saint Ormond, another colossal tilt-wing aircraft emerged, this time a lightly armed D97 Cormorant carrying a company of Wenchuan mercenaries. Its lights flooded the entire superstructure of the ship, temporarily blinding any crew that were on the flight deck at the time. Amidst the drone of sirens, it rose into the air, followed by another Cormorant from the aft section of the ship. An additional gunship rolled out of the hanger bay area. Before long, there were four monstrous planes hovering above Task Force Alpha. Like great harbingers of destruction, the tilt-wings rotated themselves clockwise so that they faced in the direction to St Joseph. Their joints groaned, the engines rotating into their horizontal position, beginning to accelerate forward. Through the darkness of the night, the aircraft trust forward, distancing themselves from the ship, cutting through the breeze and beginning the trip to the island St Joseph was located on, ready and able to initiate operations against the supposed enemy that awaited them.

It would take them little time to cover the distance between the ships and the most populous island in the archipelago, maintaining a low-altitude trajectory in order to avoid any extant enemy radar.

Order of Battle

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2 × D97 Cormorant transport aircraft

• 108 × mercenaries, assorted weaponry
• 2 × FV5847 Shadow utility vehicles

2 × A53 Ladrón gunships
1 × H35 Quirón AEW helicopter

St Joseph Airport

As the smoke cleared, the figure in black turned away and stepped behind the shed. As the militia in the airport itself attempted to hold their own against the newcomers, a series of distant thumps shook the air. A few moments later, a shrieking noise betrayed the response of the Militia to this unwanted incursion. Mortar shells began to crash around the detachment of Krystovian soldiers and vehicles, before pings and clangs and harsh cracks heralded the arrival of snipers. This was the technique that had let the Militia survive for so long against the better-equipped and trained Brytisc Fleet. Fighting from the city, at range, they rained down with murderous intent on the invaders, careless of any casualties to their own survivors or the Hrystic civilians trapped in the crossfire. Further away, the rumble of engines and distant yells echoed through the uneven and winding streets of St Joseph.


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Following the initial confusion as the small Krystovian force had airdropped slap-bang into the middle of the airport, the Militia had rallied and a swarming counterattack had bathed the airfield in blood yet again.

Captain Explosion, rousted from his revelries by a breathless runner, had arrived to see his brave warriors already advancing through the airfield, ragged lines of gunmen moving steadily and smoothly even as mortar shells rained down less than a hundred yards ahead of them. Every now and then one would land too close for comfort, and he saw a man carrying a liberated Brytisc LMG disappear in a cloud of dirt and blood, but the hammering rain was doing far more damage to the outnumbered and unsupported Krystov group.

Ahead of him, an IFV burned, sending smoke high into the clear blue sky, as shouts and panicked yells echoed up ahead. The airfield was partially bordered by jungle, and the surviving invaders had fallen back there. Explosion laughed, firing a burst of AK rounds lackadasically towards the treeline, before turning and raising his arms with a cheer. The men nearest him cheered in response, laughing too, the elation of those who have survived battle where others have not. They set about gathering what weapons they could, just as they had with the Brytisc they had conquered.

Captain Joe, who had been hit in the arm but was still standing, crossed to him and, after offering a nod of respect, turned to squint back at the city over the top of his aviators.

"It's always you out here getting your boots dirty, na?" he asked, seemingly innocuously.

"That's what it's about, my friend," Explosion replied, non-committally...


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St Joseph Airport, 1st Company with its 2nd Platoon, Holding in place.
Captain Ulyashin Kavrayskiy Igorevich.

Ulyashin was seeing the mass of bodies literally pouring out of every building and alley coming from the direction of the City of St. Joseph. They were all moving on them in an attempt to over run their position. The IFV's were pooring ammo and munitions into the human mass that were returning with the weapons and RPG's they had. The sheer mass of at fire coming at them sooner or later would score a hit. The infantry reported snipers which had them now pinned behind the IFV;s and to add to Ulyashin's worry sporatic mortar fire was now landing just ahead of them, and it was inching closer.

"Трахни это," Ulyashin mumbled then keyed his "all call" everyone on the Kryztovan encrypted radio channels would hear this including the planes and the next platoon. "FALL BACK, All units this is Cossack 1-6 Actual we cannot hold our position, We are falling ba-"

Before Ulyashin could finish his sentence a RPG struck the front armor tearing a hole in the front armor but not penetrating through. This stunned the crew including Ulyashin, but he was able to trigger the smoke dispensers which effectively hid the tank with thick black coloured smoke. Of course this didn't stop the incoming fire in the least bit. Then it seems with the loss of morale for their unit the rebels pulled out Brytic ATGM system and were able to deploy it in the chaos. They fired it and it struck the 2nd platoon's 2nd vehicle and destroyed the turret. Igniting the ammo box. Ulyashin heard the report over the radio.

"This is Cossack 1-2 Green, The turrets hit!" the commander yelled. "fire extinguishers activated, were okay but I'm loading my Infantry were out of the fight! Over!"

"Cossack 1-2 Green this is 1-2 Actual, Go ahead Green, we will pick up the fire for you." The 1st platoons commander called out over the radio. "Cossack's Red and Blue Rapid rate, kill these idiots, fire until your weapons glow red! Over!"

The infantry fell back with the firs IFV leaving the 4 remaining IFV's as the rear guard. The Platoon's commander order a slow rolling retreat to give enough time to the infantry to get to the forest. While this happened Ulyashin got on the long-range Radio which he had already set to the battalion command.

"Permafrost this is Cossack Actual, Update for you Sir Over!"

"Permafrost is on the wire, send you message Cossack."

"Cossack has sustained casualties, plus one vehicle casualty. We cannot gain control of the Airfield, There is upwards of 200 plus enemy combatants engaging us currently. I can see a few hundred more joining the fight. We are falling back now to the forest and digging in where we can there over!"

"Confirmed Cossack Air-support is in bound mark your location and pull out over."

Ulyashin marked on the map where they were and attached it to his vehicles GPS singnet, then began to fall back. After they had gotten across the first run way. volley of mortar shells rained down on the IFV's scoring a lucky hit, snaping the track of Junior Sergeant Gordeev's IFV (Cossack 1-2 Blue). He was forced to abandon and scuttle the IFV and flee. Once they got to the treeline the satchels on the IFV were detonated. destroying the key parts of the vehicle lest they fall into enemy hands.

Kystovan's had suffered casualties as almost 45% of them were now walking wounded and 4% were KIA but they were able to recover the bodies leaving little bit spent cartages, magazines, and used medical equipment left for the enemy to exploit. Once in the tree line the Kryztovan's set about defending their potions from mass infantry attacks. Mines were deployed and APERS style Mine dispensers were also used. Shalow ditches were made with the remaining IFV's to Hull them down in a static position. Once complete half the remain men continued while the other half watched the perimeter and passed out fresh ammo from the platoon command vehicle and waited for the inevitable attack from the rebels.

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147th Aviation Group, 17th Aviation Company, Cmdr. Saltanov Pyotr (Petya) Romanovich, 1st Sortie.
Inbound to the St. Joseph's Airfield.

Flying low the 5 aircraft hugged the water. it was becoming dark and the sun was in front of them. The sunset outlined the atoll well and the HUD showed the location of the 1st Company of 3rd Rapid Response Battalion. The rest of the landing were called off from the massive amount of forces at the disposal of the enemy forces on the island. It was decided to wait the extra day for the fleet; 10th "Order of Barashlov" Flotilla and the marines from the 14th Naval Motor-Infantry Battalion to attack the city before continuing the landings at the airfield. But it was thought to be best to deny the asset of the airfield and burn it. So the 5 aircraft carried their cargo in, at 100Km they were gain altitude and release their payload; Mix Cluster and Fuel air munitions. This would flatten most of the airfields building including the ATC. One of the Aircraft also had cluster mine bomb's which he would drop them over the main road leading to the Airfield.

Edges of the St Joseph Airstrip
Manaagnwe Militia

The new invaders had retreated to the edge of the jungle, harassed by sniper and mortar fire, and were now hunkered down in the dank, thick undergrowth. The thick canopy did little to prevent the continued mortar fire from random locations in the city and elsewhere, whilst sniper fire whipped through the trees, clawing at the bloodied Krystovan contingent. Ahead of them, a tangle dead militia lay among unclaimed bloodstains, betraying where the dead Krystovans had fallen before being carried off by their comrades. Captain Explosion had already left, heading for an apartment block further back in the city, pulling his forces back to keep harassing the Krystovans from range.
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St Joseph Airport, 1st Company with its 2nd Platoon, Digging in.
Captain Ulyashin Kavrayskiy Igorevich.

The platoon sized contingent, continued to reinforce their growing defensive positions, At this point Ulyashin had ordered Stasnovan styled slit trenches to be made and handed out axes to cut through the roots in the deep undergrowth. With their limited equipment to hand Ulyashin had to be careful with the use of the equipment. So the Kyrztovan's used what they could around them to improve their postions while dodging sporadic mortar strikes against their positions. That as well as the odd rifle shot by one of the few Militia sniper's attempting to add to the body count. A make shift aid station was made near Ulyashin's command tank, which like the rest of the active IFV's was hulled down and sandbagged. When they hulled down the IFV's they made sure that the strong "Афганит" active protection system could still activate to protect the now static tank.

Ulyashin sat in the back of his command tank with the 2nd platoon commander; Junior Lieutenant Grachyov Yakov Victorovich, also known as Yasha to his friends.

"... with one T-15 a wreak and one with its weapons and optics destroyed we will be hard pressed to hold here..." Grachyov spoke solemnly, in the privacy of the "command room" of the tank away from the ears and eyes of the soldiers. "We must get reinforcements soon or we will be forced off the Atoll."

"I agree with you comrade." Ulyashin admitted. "But we are unable to break out from where we are unless we leave equipment or personnel behind both which I'm unwilling to do." Two days time. We will have a full fleet of warships and submarines, the finest that our country can muster. as well as a half division of veteran soldiers. We can capture this Atoll, we just must keep faith in ourselves and our men."

"I wish I had your positivity," Grachyov smiled. "Lets hope that air support from the 17th will help out with those mortars and snipers, mean while I'm going to organized our snipers to conduct counter-sniper operations once night falls. These men were fighting are poorly equipped and will not be able to see in the dark, where as we will, and we should be able to thin the herd of their snipers. I will also organized OP's covering our flanks to avoid any of these militia idiots to attempt to feel their way into our camp through the jungle."

"Good thanks for your report comrade," Ulyashin said patting Grachyov's shoulder. "I'll walk among the men after checking in at the aid station."

"Yes sir," Grachyov exited the tank out the ramp and jogged off to complete his tasks. Once he left, The command radio, Ulyashin's connection to his battalion and his support assets crackled to life."

"Cossack 1-2 Actual, Afgantsy 4-1, 17th Aviation Company, Commander Saltanov Pyotr Romanovich, Reporting in, over!" Ulyashin hurry to grab the receiver to respond.

"Afgantsy 4-1 this is Cossack 1-2, Captian Ulyashin Kavrayskiy Igorevich, 3rd Rapid Response Battalion, 1st Company! Happy to Answer Sir! We are hemmed in on the edge of the tree line north of the city and Objective "Anna"." Ulyashin replied. "Marking our location with IR Strobe your target is roughly 200 to 400 meters to our south south west, The Air traffic control tower and surrounding buildings. We have half a dozen plus snipers firing at us and mortars located in between the building in the city proper. If your callsign could deal with one of these issues we would sure appreciate it! Over!"

"Copy all Cossack 1-2, My callsign on target in 10 Mikes, our callsign complete after dropping predesignated payload on the buildings located within the airport proper. The 17th Aviation will support you with CAS and SEAD strikes as you designate. Tell me Captain, have you seen any Ack-Acks? Over!"

"Negative, Afgantsy 4-1, though it doesn't mean its not there, be quick about your attack. I don't know what equipment they would be using considering their equipment so I have no idea if they are Radar based or line of sight. Good luck Afgantsy 4-1, Cossack 1-2 out!"

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Deeper in the jungle
Manaagnwe Militia

Although several of the militia SAM batteries had already been wiped out by long-range Carlosian strikes, there were still more active in the depths of the jungle. The Krystovans made no secret of their approach, and long before they were in range to unleash their unguided munitions, a volley of agile surface-to-air missiles designed to engage enemy air targets flying at speeds of up to Mach 1.3 at altitudes between 20 meters and 6,000 metres. With a maximum effective range of 6,300 metres, no fewer than twelve missiles were screaming towards the five Krystovan airplanes. Unfortunately for the Militia, the approach of the Krystovans masked the approach of the two Carlosian mercenary aircraft, which were able to slip past unnoticed.
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147th Aviation Group, 17th Aviation Company, Cmdr. Saltanov Pyotr (Petya) Romanovich, 1st Sortie (Afgansty 4-1 5x KTO-201 "Shikra")
Inbound to the St. Joseph's Airfield.

Saltanov flew at the tip of the formation as they rapidly approached the island. All five; KTo-201 Shikra 5th Generation Stealth Air Superiority Fighter. The KTo-201 Shikra is a fifth-generation, single-seat, twin-engine, all-weather tactical fighter jet. The aircraft was designed by Combat Strategy and Ammunition TechCorp (CSAT) with the goal to build a highly agile and maneuverable air-superiority fighter. The To-201 also has ground attack capabilities, and is able to support various weapons configurations via its conventional pylons, but also its internal weapons bay. With all this said, the KTo-201 is a larger fighter allowing it to make the most of its air speed and improve its maneuverability. Which makes it a bigger target to shoot at. The Shikra's stealth systems make it invisible to Radar based Anti-air as long as it isn't making too sharp of turns or maneuvers which would result as a "ping" and light up its position to radar.

Saltanov's squadron were armed accordingly, acting as the first of Kryztovan jets flying over the Atoll, the 17th Combat Aviation company made sure that the sortie had the right munitions to get them in and out. The Shikra's had internal and external pylons that weapons could be attached. The internal pylons carried the bombs that would be dropped on the airfield were as defensive munitions were loaded on the exterior pylons. With 13 pylons in total (7 in the internal bay of pylons) all 5 jets were weighed down with munitions. The wings carried six missiles for Air to Air defense, where two pylons carried KH58 ARM Anti Radiation Missiles. The internal load of each aircraft was a mixture of bombs including one larger one. Four of the five jets carried 150lb "dumb" bomb's with a heavier 250lb KAB250 LGB. One of the jets had a modified internal bay to hold 3 RBK-500F Cluster Bombs loaded with a mixture of anti personnel and anti vehicle munitions. These were light munitions but it would delay an advance if it was placed right.

"Afgansty 4-1 Lead, At way-point "Gregory", 100 Kilometers out, increasing speed and climbing to 3 Kilo's," Saltanov on the sortie's comms. Command would surely be listening it so the commander kept it to the book. "Radar reports a few pings around us but they are out of visual range..."

"4-1 Lead, this is Second, I tally your call out." Saltanov's wingman called out confirming what he had called the rest pinged his HUD confirming what he had said. The 5 Jets were in a standard wedge formation with him at the point. Currently going Mach 1; a quick 1'230 km/h, they would have to slow to 800 km/h to drop the bombs accurately. That worried him enough especially if they didn't know about the AA threats in the area. The Shikra was a Stealth Air Superiority Fighter (SASF) however, it was big. Slowing to that speed worried him enough to make him want to go higher and make the bombing a high altitude bombing run. He had more than enough space to make the change and he could get the jet to go up to 1'505 km/h with out the afterburner's to climb to a lofty 4 or 5 kilometers and conduct the bombing run. If their was anti air they could climb away or pull a riskier and dive to nap of the earth maneuver and simply out run the guns on the ground. The maneuver worked for him running away from his own countries equipment in a simulated wargame. He was unsure if it would work for them.

3 and a half minutes later, 16 kilometers away from target.

Moments before reaching the 15 kilometers mark where Manaagnwe Militia's Double A batteries came online and let loose a volley of long range anti air missiles. All five of the Kryztovan KTo-201's which would normally make untrained pilots scatter and fire off countermeasures to confuse and distort incoming Long range missiles. Saltanov immediately called out a hold course and formation, and he counted in his head watching the incoming missiles approach. All of the missile came out of the jungle behind the Kyrztovan positions on the Atoll, which he was sure with the launch of missile made them very much aware. It was decided the reaction would be risky but had a high chance to allow the entire wing survive the encounter.

"4-1, this is Leader follow me on new heading!" Saltanov called out over the sortie's channel.

He saw the 4 green lights light up on his heads up display. He then banked slightly left facing the missiles head on. He could see the Red "M's" quickly approaching him. he had 17 seconds to react.

"Drop to the deck! follow me down!" he said suddenly. He flipped inverted quickly and pulled hard on the stick. His squadron though a few second later followed suit. "Pop counters now!" he then called and the squadron in unison popped flares. which left a cloud of smoke and white hot flares. Saltanov then flipped again and leveled out 2 kilometers lower and going almost Mach 1.5, going 1800 km's per hour, he then triggered his flares again. At this point his radar reacted. He was below the clouds and was well within range of the Atoll. His radar picked up the SAM Batteries. The only way the SAM batteries could pick up the Shikras was if it was a radar based SAM. Which KH58 ARM Anti Radiation Missiles would sort it out. At this moment it was 10 second before impact. There was a lot of heat and chaff in the air behind them to be picked up by the missiles, he took some of that time to lock and fire both of his KH 58 Missiles on two of the farther batteries. The missiles would travel and impact on the radar station that the battery was linked to. Though they would need to turn off the radar to save themselves. The rest of the squadron let loose their KH58 missiles as well. It was uncoordinated strike however with linked sensor systems shared among the sortie they were able to spread the missiles across the enemy batteries that would hopeful knock out 95% of the Militia's SAM batteries. Though with the locations of them in the jungle would have a hard time hitting them instead of the the thick overhead, cutting the total of hits down to at least 65% Once all missiles were off the rails the sortie mimicked their leader and popped flares and evaded the remaining incoming long range missiles.

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Culture in Great Øhiton has always been very different from that of other nations. Values and traditions took a very different course from those in other nations. War, militarism and fighting were things that were held in high regard. Even today great warriors are celebrated like rock stars and sometimes worshipped in shrines. They don't necessarily have to come form Øhiton to reach that status but sharing the same Gods and the same culture helps a lot. T-Shirts celebrating the works and wars of Brytene in general and of the Jarl of Dyflin in particular were a common sight in Øhiton. Thousands were sold of the last few months alone and all the revenue was passed on to the military pensions fund of Brytene.


Blood donations in Øhiton

The war has left Great Øhiton in a state of almost complete destruction. Hundreds of thousands died in a very short time and half a dozen cities were completely destroyed. The reconstruction was a great success but there were some things the nation never could recover from. Great Øhiton still has no army, no air force and no navy. Just a self-defense force and a coast guard. The election system is complicated and the rights of minorities like Christians are protected by various laws and regulations. The culture of Øhiton is strange and different and not very much like that of other western style democracies. While the nation is not going to be able to fight another war any time soon, many of its citizens volunteer to participate in foreign conflicts overseas. Some veterans of the last war, some born long after the return of peace. To the people of Øhiton it is not a contradiction to make a stand for peace and offer help those who fight in the war. A large campaign to organize blood donations for Brytene was launched. The blood was supposed to be given to all those wounded in combat and in terrorist attacks.

Blessed By Tyr

The war in Brytene is fought with gallantry and bravery on the side of the Brytenian soldiers. Many have sacrificed themselves to defend the homeland and to keep right from wrong. We pray for those who passed on from this world to the next but we are confident that they have all found their way into Valhalla and are now feasting with the Gods.

The Gods it seems have a particular interest in one warrior. Like Tyr, the God of War, Aoife Lodbrok the Jarl of Dyflin has sacrificed her hand to safeguard her kin against the Wolf. This blessing by Tyr must be understood as such. Our rune layers have decided that this blessing must be taken into special consideration when honoring the work of Lodbrok. I have therefore decided to award the Jarl of Dyflin the Tyr Medal, one of the highest awards of the The Federal Republic.

The Medal of the God of War is awarded to those, who had distinguished themselves by exceptionally meritorious service in a duty of great responsibility. It is my sincere conviction that Aoife Lodbrok has by all standards qualified for this medal.

Bjørn Peter Nielsson