Upon Red Shores (IC Thread - Closed MT/PMT RP)

[The Cardwith Islands]

Leading up to the Guild and Riysian Arrival
Suraksha, Jaragupta

The ISVC-CAIF teams were settling in and integrating into the HDLF network, as well as forming their own. They tried to keep some radio silence, but it wasn’t always possible and discipline was uneven, especially when it came to reminding their HDLF allies to not mention their activities over cellular and internet spectrums.

Suraksha became a major staging area for rebel operations, second only to Mehatar, which also befit its status as the second biggest Hamikh city, and third overall, in Jaragupta. The Viets, Pan-Asians, Vionnan-Frankenlischians and Mubatans worked together when necessary, and on their own projects when they could. The two biggest contingents were 20 personnel each of the Viet PUR operators and the Nusantara Echelon Marines, an elite commando unit of the Pan-Asiatic armed forces, so they were the ones to lead a lot of the operations against the Royal government.

There were over twenty five hundred combat effective HDLF personnel in the Suraksha area, not to mention the support network that many of the southern Jaraguptan cities had for the insurgency that linked back to HDLF command.
Using a number of safe houses and buildings lent by those sympathetic to the cause, the ISVC advisors and HDLF leadership were able to conduct operations to good effect, taking a dent out of the local gendarme and JRA forces and causing them to react rather than go on the offensive.

Then, the Guild arrived. To be more precise, Shalumite Security International forces, a major partner of the PMC Guild. Unlike in other locales around Jaragupta, the government didn’t have a large base to give over to the foreign mercenary troops, so they set up tent compounds and began to build, under the watch of many suspicious eyes.

---

The Pan-Asiatic ‘Nusantara Marines’ were legends both at home and abroad, but not much was really known about them. The Echelon held a strict policy of secrecy, their engagements clandestine to all except those who participated in them. At their home-base in New Nusantara, survivors of the missions would draw symbols on black cards, below it, the designation of their last operation; and that was all anyone was permitted to know about what their detachments had done. Posted on the walls of their training compound ceremonially, it was this souvenir of combat that had been on Mursalim Ho’s mind since day one.

As the days went by, the Datu surprised the rest of his men, as well as the HDLF combatants, with his rudimentary veteran knowledge of guerilla warfare. It was always in the little things. Like knowing how to set-up a trap with boar excrement, some bamboo, and a shovel; or differentiating poisonous berries from edible ones.

But this middle-aged fellow was also street-smart. As the deadline to ‘real action’ depleted, so did his Rupees. What he never ran out of was the charisma to make good trades to feed his men.

---

Much of the Vionna-Frankenlischian contingent, numbering eleven, resided within the city itself. Following the War of Restoration, King Edward had executed many former Socialist soldiers but, after the initial bloodlust had subsided, he actually provided the remainder many privileges. They received 2/3s of the regular army pension and the right to call themselves a veteran, with all that came with it. Thus, as officers, the Socialist cadre had ample means at their disposal and made it known by residing in Suraksha’s finest hotels. They posed as important Frankenlischian businessmen and hid their Socialist khakis for the day they might be needed.

The collective Worker’s Socialist Party deployments in Jaragupta were commanded by Brigade General Martin Evans. However, in Suraksha, the local contingent came under the jurisdiction of Colonel Phillip Campbell. The Campbells were a noble clan from Ballaeter, the Colonel was an outlier and, despite his aristocratic family, was an ardent Howellist. Campbell was older than most of his command at sixty-eight and was one of only two men with the whole WSP deployment who had fought in the Imperial Civil War, at the age of fifteen.

Campbell and six of his officers were hosted in the Royal Odyssey, a remarkably prestigious hotel in a wealthy area of the city. Campbell himself actually used his real name, its aristocratic connections had made him a figure of interest and prestige amongst the woefully arrogant elite of the Kingdom of Jaragupta. His officers used fake names, mostly, and posed as businessmen and retired army officers which, of course, they were. Despite their best efforts, Campbell and his men had spotted few opportunities for action, in stark contrast to their bold leader, General Evans. That was, at least, until the Shalumites came along…

---

Unlike the Vionna-Frankenlischians, the Mubatans had no hope of blending in with the tourist elite in the downtown of Suraksha. They were dark, not possessing the upper class social skills, nor advanced language skills beyond a smattering of English and their native Zama, a major recognized tribal language of the Republic of Mubata that was similar to a dialect of Swahili.

What the MFM (Mubatan Freedom Movement) saboteurs lacked in the ability to blend in with the mucky muck crowd of foreigners and Tamar elite who frequented the hotels and fine dining establishments, they made up for in gritty guerrilla warrior skills and a knack for passing on those skills to their HDLF partners with few words necessary. They also lived in safehouses, shacks, huts, tunnels and at times, the junctures of tree branches overlooking their prey. First their prey was the Jaraguptan Royal Army, Guard and Gendarmerie, then it was the Shalumites, the mercenaries sent in to bolster the local forces in hunting down the HDLF.

They were not alone. The Pan-Asian and Viet commandos had joined various cells operating in the area and had begun to hone the rebel skills in ambushes, traps, and political hits on weakly defended targets. Things would come to a head soon enough as the rebels got bolder and the Guild mercenaries helped the local government forces consolidate control.

---

Post-Arrival of the Shalumite Security International forces
Outside Suraksha, Jaragupta

While DD Rosita Esongka had gone out to meet Yamala further north up the coast, Colonel Tennison Fodenka had traveled east and down the coast to Suraksha to confer with his CAIF colleagues. Esongka was a PASD Deputy Director and representing that directorate’s concerns in the joint ISVC operation. She was not military, but neither was she a civilian. She was political, but she was also pragmatic and loyal.

Colonel Fodenka was, of course, a military man and representing the Special Operations forces of the Cardwithian People’s Army. While both had the same goals and the same political masters at home, their two overlapping organizations often found themselves competing for the same missions and budget, both when it came to Cardwithian foreign policy, and ISVC operations.

The CAIF leadership met in a village hut some kilometers from the city, with HDLF and ISVC personnel setting up a perimeter to watch for an attack or interlopers. Present, besides Col. Fodenka, was the senior most Mubatan MFM man, Uredi Mkosa; the Commander of the elite Viet PUR detachment, Captain Nguyen Van Hung; Colonel Phillip Campbell, a retired Vionna-Frankenlischian Red Army officer who was much more senior than the rest of them; and Mursalim Ho, the Datu, or commander, of the Nusantara Echelon Marine detachment.

Fodenka wasted little time on pleasantries. None of them had such time with a war to conduct, after all.
Col. Fodenka listened to their concerns and reports, then assured them that everything was on track.
“I understand where you’re all coming from. We must strive harder to keep up communication among the teams, but at the same time, we need to be careful not to risk our security. Be sure that you are utilizing the Mosaic Network. If a part of that network appears to be compromised, cut it off. We don’t need to give any windows to the enemy to our whole operation.”
He took a sip of the host’s tea.
“The good news is that the mercenaries they brought in are bungling their operations in several sectors. They are lashing out blindly and in the process they are making their master, the Rajah, mad and sources we have close to their headquarters say that there is dissension and distrust within their ranks. We have to capitalize upon this. You need to bring the heat on the Shalumites...Shove them off balance. Hit them with some losses and send them reeling.”
He motioned his palm out to the Pan-Asian Datu, focusing on him,
“Your comrades in Pradhaan have already done well to reap the propaganda coup from the mercenary thug follies. We all need to look to their lead and continue with the political pressure.”
He took another pause and scanned from Datu Mursalim to Mkosa, to Nguyen the Viet Captain, and finally resting on Colonel Campbell, the Vionna-Frankenlischian.

“There is a major operation coming up. A game changer that our colleagues further to the East are planning…” There wasn’t much farther east than the outlying islands, so it was obvious he meant Gahana.
“...I can’t tell you exactly when or how, but you will know when the time comes and we should be able to plan more definitely soon. As it nears, I will be back. In the meantime, we need to prepare to act at that moment, so if they fail, at least one sector succeeds. Maybe here. If we are ever to win this struggle, we must hold territory. In order to seize territory, great sacrifices must be made. Are you willing to make these sacrifices?”

They were in harmony with Colonel Fodenka. After some small task and logistical questions, they all shook hands, with some back slapping, then they were off to continue to enact the Revolution in the Suraksha metro area and surrounding hills and jungle of Jaragupta.

[RP was contributed to this post by Vionna-Frankenlisch, Mubata, Divine Great Viet, Pan-Asiatic States and Jaragupta]

[Wandering Argonians]

FOB BLACKWOOD
TALIKA PROVINCE, JARAGUPTA

The ride back to the FOB from the rotor-wing landing area had been a short one (it was basically next door) but the threat of Bray being targeted was legitimate. It wouldn't make much of a difference if the insurgency did manage to kill him, but it would ruin his day. He'd barely begun shucking off his body armor when his second-in-command entered what served as his living quarters/office, the jungle heat briefly battling his overtaxed air conditioning until the door swung shut again. Thankfully, the private sector also hired the top-of-the-line in living quarters engineers as well as trigger-pullers. If Ragnar was here in person, it wasn't a good thing. Dekker's mood immediately soured despite the arctic chill biting his sweat-soaked body through his company-issued polo. The sensation was pleasant for all about five seconds, which was about as long as it took Ragnar to begin talking...

"A message came for you while you were in transit. It seems your presence is required again, or some nonsense. Apparently our associates in the Varangian Guard turned a suspected insurgent stronghold into a funeral pyre..."

Ragnar's faint smile was expected. The man was Ulfhendjar, a Gungiri special operations group who'd earned a sinister reputation during the Argonian Civil War. The man was a raider, a reaver in every sense of the word. It was why he'd been placed on a COIN team to begin with. They were stacked solidly with shooters; insurgency hunters from various units with household-name level reputations: SEALs, Rangers, CAG boys, etc. There were even a few internal security shooters from countries that used highly-militarized police forces for such tasks, like Brazil's BOPE. There was even one exceptionally-skilled Afghan Commando on the roster. Ragnar was in good company, surely. His sympathy with a group called the 'Vargangian Guard' was understandable, as his home nation gave 'Vargangian Status' to men like himself, who were basically state-sponsored mercenaries. Dekker assumed they'd get along famously, should joint ops ever arise. Two peas in a violent pod. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Stalin.

It was also the reason Dekker was running the show for Blackwood, and to a lesser degree the Guild itself. Despite coming from a similar background, he was a veteran of many aspects of warfare, not just the murder-y ones. He'd run teams of killers like Ragnar, directing their talents towards a larger goal, for more than a decade. When left to their own devices, he was certain Ragnar & his boys would have done something similar, if not using fire then using sharp steel (at least if the ACW rumors were true), which was why semi-retired shooters like Bray still had jobs in command billets...

"So while we're on that topic, this isn't a gig for Argonian Intelligence or ASOCOM. Law of Armed Conflict applies; no purposeful torching of villages. No decapitations, you get the idea. Fuck, you know this already. Get your boys suited & booted for jungle ops, you're doing some hunting in the morning. Recce runs on suspected G-Bases, sneak & peek as much as possible. Half of Davis' boys from 209 will be on standby for QRF. Paul's been out doing the spooky thing in town, hopefully he'll have some leads, but first I have to unfuck this barbecue situation..."

The viking simply nodded, seemingly a bit put out that the usual psychological operations methods were off the table. Culturally bound to the axe, his men sought excuses to get in close with the enemy and work their brutal magic. In Gungiri culture, the taking of heads held religious significance & had a side benefit of being horrifying to the enemy. It was also highly illegal under the 'Law of Armed Conflict', which Blackwood attempted to follow on operations they accepted at the Guild's request. Ragnar departed without a word, chuckling softly as he vanished in a gust of hot jungle air. Dekker took the opportunity to pour himself a triple-finger measure of sixteen-year-old scotch & seat himself in his least favorite place: in front of his computer terminal.

He downed half the beverage in a single swig as he keyed up the video chat with Guild command in Mavala...

"What in the cinnamon toast fuck in going on with Kirves and her outfit?"

It seemed appropriate to use the professional vernacular when addressing a respected colleague...

ELSEWHERE IN TALKIA

Paul Marcos was in a few words, a people person. He'd worked for decades in the field of human intelligence for various employers, the past ten for Dekker Bray as his own employment situation went from independent contractor to company man. Marcos was clearly Caucasian, his once-dark hair graying heavily at the temples. His skin had tanned nicely in the weeks he'd been there prior to Blackwood's official involvement, but the locals knew him fairly well at this point. He'd been drinking in this same shitty bar every night, copping a buzz on cheap beer & coconut wine, developing a reputation as a loose-lipped drunk who claimed to dabble in the dealing of arms. His accent was clearly Western, with maybe a hint of Texas once he'd downed his fifth or sixth shot of palm liquor. He'd found it was more endearing than his native Bostonian, which was never surprising given that accent's reputation. While he'd been able to shed the accent he hadn't been able to shed his lanky Irish build or his alcohol tolerance, the latter of which always came in handy when trying to suss out foreign spooks or native freedom fighters: everyone gets mouthy when they drink. A universal truth.

So far, he'd been the only foreigner to warm a bar stool. A few interested natives had only turned out to be the local drunks, and they'd become something that approximated friends. Friends were good in the intel business. Friends who were the sort of gossipy town drunk that knew everyone & loved to talk mad shit were even better...

[The Cardwith Islands]

Rujinga, Gahana, Jaragupta

Yamala waited at the docks as she usually did for her Vionna-Frankenlischian counterpart, Evans. The old Brigadier. She had a cool beer in her hand for him, and one for herself. While he was well old enough to be her father, possibly even her grandfather, his charms had stripped away at her defenses. There were few layers left if truth were told, but she couldn’t even admit that to herself. She felt that she needed to keep a line, no matter how thin, in the face of a difficult mission and to keep proper professionalism in front of her strike team, and the other ISVC personnel.

The rest of her team had retired to their hut, exhausted after a long day of training with their section of HDLF fighters. Shooting drills, ambush set ups, IED placement, checkpoint smashing, stealthy entry into homes of authorities...Days upon weeks they had drilled with them. Some learned quicker than others. Her team were relaxed enough around her, but not fully. They needed a night off from her, and her from them.

Evans would meet her, then they would head over to find Carme, the Gylian political leader, to check in on her progress. Their time was nearing and they would need to firm up plans. Evans had taken charge of the upcoming operation, but each ISVC-CAIF knew their part now, and worked to bring it together for Zero Hour.

As she waited, she marveled at how they were able to have cold beers out here in what amounted to a technological wasteland well off the grid before their arrival. Previously, if the fishing village had wanted a cool beverage, they would need to put it in shaded water, or in a hole in the ground. That only sufficed so much and didn’t help much with the humidity.
So beer was a rare treat and if they consumed alcohol at all, it was usually the homemade fermented coconut liquor that passed for a national beverage here.

In exchange for the village elders assistance to the cause, the CAIF team had brought in, among their supplies, bicycle parts, storage cells and a generator. They had shown them how to put together a pedal power run generator that could run all sorts of devices...like the mini fridge in the Chief’s hut. Now, many young ones in the village took turns at the bike powering the generator.

It also helped to charge their radios and the emergency sat phone, helping the CAIF team keep up their end of the Mosaic network. They should be prepared to move and quick, but they had settled in this village as an HQ in dangerous complacency.

Eventually, there were plans for them to travel on to the other small islands to set up outposts and maybe liberate the slave miners, but they had agreed that the uprising on Gahana needed to happen first .

She smiled as Martin approached.
"What ho!" He called in greeting, a summery smile plastered across his aging, yet handsome face as he came closer. "I found this," he held up a khaki peaked cap, "in my old campaign trunk." The hat in question was practically ragged, the sweatband was almost white and the red frontage was darkened from its original scarlet and the golden star was dull. All the same, the cap still commanded a kind of historical respect. It had seen the great battles in Gallandia and had witnessed the ignominious capture of the Vionnan Red Army at the Battle of Nieuwesel.

Yamala smiled and reached out to touch the old field cap, feeling the history in the worn, velvety texture.

He placed the hat on his head and settled down next to Yamala, accepting the offered beverage. He had become more used to packaged beer in recent weeks, his old country club living had given way slowly but surely. "We're not too far off now," he mused, looking off into the water, seeming somehow melancholy, "We just need that extra equipment and we'll be laughing."

Evans looked Yamala in the face, "...and how are your preparations progressing?"

The smile faded from her face as she took on her professional demeanor.

“Well...I think that we’re getting closer to a fighting force. The HDLF fighters that we’re working with...well...They’ll never be quite up to a paramilitary force, but I think in a few weeks they might be able to stand up to the gendarmes.. they are also likely to take a bloody beating. If the government can get regular forces here, or worse yet, those mercenary thugs, well...it will be all over quick before we can get the Gahana rebellion off the ground...but that’s a big ‘if’. So far, Mavala has seemed to leave this island up to its own devices.

“That’s good.” Evans replied, nodding. He had taken a backseat from the training as he spent much of his time preparing for Operation Islander. “I have my worries about this equipment that we’re bringing in. I have doubts that we’ll have neither the time nor the ammunition to give the fighters much training with it all. I’m trying to keep track of all these little niggles before the operation commences. Do you have anything to add to the list?”

They began to walk, as they still needed to check in with Carme and Aruna.

“They are still trying to get the heavier ordnance to us. It may…” She lowered her voice and looked around, “...It may be coming by mini sub. A Cardwithian or...Pan-Asian vessel.” She wasn’t supposed to know that, let alone be spreading it to others and blowing operational security, but knowledge of Pan-Asian naval activities to the east wasn’t exactly the most well kept secret now, from what Rosita had said.

“If we had some idea of the models they were bringing in, maybe we could fashion a mock up from wood or bamboo, fill it with rocks for weight. Make sure all the buttons and levers were in the right place. It wouldn’t give the full effect with targeting and blow back and the rocket leaving the tube, but it would at least be something.”

“That’s not a bad idea at all.” Evans admitted, “Anything that can get our fighters some familiarity with these weapons will do. So long as they are aware of what their purpose is, they will do it. Their spirit and belief in the cause will make up for their inexperience.”

They had arrived at the Gylians’ hut.

As it happened, it was Aruna who greeted them first. “Hi Yamala,” she said while shaking hands with them, “Martin. Good to see you.”

“Glad to see you, as ever.” Evans greeted Aruna with a shining smile and shook her hand.

Nírol, reading something in the corner, noticed them and waved. Aruna nodded at them – she’d let them know if they were needed.

“Carme and Demi are handling some things in town, they aren’t back yet. How can I help you?”

Yamala wasn’t put out. Any of the Gylians were more than capable at filling her in on progress. In fact, in some ways, she thought that Aruna had started out more as the one with the leadership role, but their anarchic dynamic worked, so she didn’t much mind who took on the role that day. She glanced at Martin and then back inside the hut.
“We just wanted to see how far along things were in progress.”

“Political preparation is steady here. We had to lay low a bit more the past few days, after that large ambush, but it did the trick. The authorities never knew what hit them. We’re making good progress on winning over Gahanans to the cause.”

“That is good news. Have you gone over passive-defensive tactics for when they are confronted during protests? They need to be able to rile the police and gendarmes in the city without giving them outright provocation.”

Of course, from past reports they had, even though they hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, the gendarmes didn’t really need an excuse to turn violent in cracking down on political dissent. It was still all about optics. If they had on video protestors peacefully demonstrating while the police and paramilitary smashed down, it would bolster the cause, even if it meant casualties to the HDLF side. Then, on the key day, the optics wouldn’t matter, as they would go for broke on the uprising to take the island.

“Yes, we have. Nírol helped a lot here, they have this classic book with them about nonviolent action and we’ve started with those whenever that subject’s been discussed.”

“It’s a bit of a challenge, I’ll admit,” Nírol said from the back, “Usually I’d have emphasised mockery first but that would’ve looked too much like provocation from the start.”

“Indeed, we can’t be too obvious at this stage…”, Aruna said. “What about you, Yamala, Martin?”

Yamala waited a beat to see if Martin would answer, then went ahead.
“Training for the fighters is going...about as expected. We just don’t have enough time to get them to the level we need. This planned operation should happen for many reasons, but it’s not going to come cheap. Blood will be shed, and probably a lot of it.”
She shrugged. Coming from the Cardwithian PAST cells, she was used to such cold calculations to measure success, despite the destroyed lives. Many of her countrymen and women had been thrown on the pyre for their independence a few years previous. Due to this generational hole, they had to entice foreign workers from allied socialist nations to immigrate to the Cardwiths to fill key skilled labor positions. There were many Falkasians in Cardwithian industrial management.
“We will have to do best we can with what we have. We are awaiting shipments of arms which will come from the big island...or elsewhere.” The Pan-Asian carrier.
She yawned and stretched.
“Well, we wanted to make sure things were on track, best they can be, and they are, so...I will take my leave of you fine people and head to bed for another early day of training tomorrow.”

Aruna nodded. “I know what you mean. You have to use what you have, not what you wish you had.”

She shook hands with Yamala and Martin and Nírol waved. “We’ll do our best to keep things best, haha. Good luck with your training!”

Yamala bowed in a very East Asian fashion.
“Yes. What we have. The same to you.”

Martin also said his goodbyes. They left the Gylians’ hut and headed back down the bamboo laden walk to their own accommodations.
“Sleep well, Martin. I will see you in the morn.”
Yamala’s hand rested just a bit longer on his forearm than was professional. She winked then was off at a quick pace to where her PAST cell had taken temporary root.

[RP also contributed by Gylias and Vionna-Frankenlisch]

---

ISVC Temporary HQ
Mehatar, Jaragupta

“This is Colonel Fodenka.”

“They didn’t tell you who was on the line before you picked it up.”

“Uh...no, General. I’m sorry, you are taking me a bit by surprise.”
Fodenka took the radio handset away from his ear for a moment, then glared at the communications officer that suddenly had something better to do and quickly left the room.

“It’s okay, Colonel.”

“To what do I owe this honor, General Tozimbga?”

“Well, I am the Commander of Revolutionary Forces. I do need to check in with my people. It's part of my job.”

“I understand that, Sir. This seems like more than just routine, however.”

“You are very perceptive, Comrade Colonel. How is the effort going there?”

So he wasn’t going to come right out and say it.
“The effort is going well, General. We are having some success on many fronts and we are getting the HDLF ready for the big push. The training is going very well.”

“That is good. I am glad to hear it. But I had no doubts. Although, we didn’t think it would take this many months.”

“General…?”

“Get ready. Get very ready. Big things are in the works. We are preparing a small task force to sail out. There will be some regular troops on transports. They will be joined by our allies. Missile frigates, light carriers, ELINT ships, subs, destroyers...”

“The ISC is ready to move then. Really? How many troops?”

“Five thousand, Cardwithian boys, that is. More from the ISVC, but I don’t have firm numbers right now. I think we are ready for the next phase, but there needs to be an excuse. A firmer casus belli.”

“I don’t know how to deliver that right now, Sir. There’s been some atrocities from them, but nothing major enough to rile the whole island, let alone the international media. We have some major plans in the works, but it’s taking some time to get them in operation. Also, isn’t it kind of dangerous to transmit this to me now? I mean, it should be a secure line, but...”

“You need to prepare for them. You need to step it up. You need to seize territory because seizing a beach head solely by invasion will be costly, as you know. Ideally, follow on forces can be flown right in once we capture enough airfields or highways.”

“I see…”

“We’re counting on you, Colonel. The Congress, Norritts and President Nellis. The whole socialist world is waiting for you to open that door. So open it.”

“Yes sir, but…”

“Just open it, Comrade Colonel. I will be in touch in 3 days time.”
There was a click and the line was silent. Fodenka knew better than to query a severed connection.

With good timing, one of his Captains walked up. The Colonel didn't give him a chance to speak.
“Where is Rosita Esongka? I need her here…now.”

---

Battle of Mulayam Pathar Ridge, (Part One)
Southeast of Prakaran
North of the Danjarit Mountains

They waited patiently after days of preparation. There were only three possible routes through this part of the jungle, without getting hopelessly bogged down in thick underbrush, anyway. The new advisers, two black as a moonless night, the others pale as clouds - they all wore nondescript camo fatigues. The pale ones had daubed mud unto their faces, the dark ones had as well, even though there didn't seem to be much need. When questioned, one said it took away the glare from sweat glisten.

They had drilled many times. Wait for the whole patrol to enter the kill zone, and also for their group commander to commence the ambush. Hit the ends first to trap the middle. Concentrate fire to drive the enemy towards the IEDs and mines off the trail. Pace bursts so that they didn't all have to reload at the same time. (For this, they didn’t actually fire their weapons during the drills, but made ‘Rat-a-tat’ sounds instead, so as not to draw enemy attention. It wasn’t ideal, but it kept them alive and was the best way they had to simulate without making a big racket.) Most importantly, watch for crossfire and angle so they didn't end up spraying down their own comrades with indiscriminate rounds across the way.

Then the wait. No smoking or opening bags of rations. The scent could carry a long way. No talking, and especially whispering, which could actually carry further than murmured speech. The bulk of their forces were on the northernmost route predicted to be the likeliest choice, with a handful covering the other two. They had practiced how to reinforce the enemy selected route, funneling in to cut off escape, without running through their own boobytraps.

This was not their first attempt. That had ended disastrously when one man had opened up on a small warthog scrambling through the underbrush. The resulting fusilade had critically wounded one rebel and blown any chance of surprise. They had retreated hastily and patched up the wounded resistance fighter enough to get him to a full aid station set up back in their safe haven across the river and southeast of Prakaran..

Now Kamano hoped they had really learned lessons from that and subsequent attempts that had ended in no success. The MFM guerrillas had separated from their Yellowsian comrades. Finnarssen took the middle route, Bangktsson the southernmost. They were armed with PV-38s, as we're most of the HDLF rebels, with a smattering of AK-74s. There was one mortar team and two HMG teams for each ambush group.

They had to be ready to move quick, including getting the heavy ordnance out of there.
Even if they were successful in wiping out a whole patrol, it was inevitable and expected that there would be both an air and ground response from Jaraguptan government and Guild forces.

[Port Ember]

Secret Base of The Hawk Privateers, located on an unknown island off the coast of Port Ember

Captain Finigan stood upon the small hill topside of the docks, in the 'powerstance position' which he had learned during his service years in the fine Port Emberian Navy. The stance was simple - his feet placed shouldwidth apart, with his hands intertwined behind his back, chest out, stomach in, neck against his collar. He was silently observing the bustling activity below, as the men of the company went about their individual bussiness of preparing the ships for their next contract, with a faint smile.

The captain had a secret feeling of pride and joy, yet also of nervousness. He had been selected by Admiral Hawk to fill the duties of Raid Commander for their next contract, and what a contract it was! A contract to sink a nation's naval warships was always a difficult one, more so if said warship was a fucking aircraft carrier. Captain Finigan felt a slight urge of stress pass through him again, as he pondered the ugly nature of facing off against such a nasty opponent, especially since he would not have the Navy's massive support system behind him this time, only the experience and strength of will of his fellow pirates. The stress left his body again, as he comforted himsef in the knowledge that he knew his fellow pirates well, and trusted the centuries worth of combined naval warfare experience between them. He also knew and trusted his assigned equipment well.

Later that day the individual ship captains joined him in the briefing room, located in the 'town' on the secret island, running through the detailed - and very cunning, plan for the last time, to ensure everyone knew what was expected from them at all times. They also plotted the location of their prize on their maps, which was generously obtained from a secret contact within the Port Emberian Navy, obtained from a spy satelite.

That night the men gathered in the 'Tavern' and immersed themselves fully in the pleasures which only spiced rum and women's company could provide, possibly for the last time for some of the men gathered there.

The following morning, 1 Rydell Class Cargo Vessel and 6 Jolly Roger Class Missile Boats left the pirate port, steaming hard for the Northeast Wishton Sea.

[USG Security Corporation]

Guild HQ
Mavala, Jaragupta

A siren warbled, cut through clearly, then faded, as a gendarme rover raced by, hopefully after more mundane crime and not another HDLF action they didn’t need to handle today. The Colonel stretched as he ambled through the operations center, ably dodging subordinates racing with materials, tablets or laptops in hand. Laurent was calm now, talked down by the Polish Major after his outbursts at the heap of bad news thrown at him. It was all part of the contract. Either General Van Aardel would drop the hammer and pull him back home, or he would get to finish it out and pull things around.

One had to be zen about such things. He wandered into the lounge, looking longingly at the fridge that held a seemingly never ending supply of Burgunden Breus and Gertner’s Ciders. Then he glanced over at the coffee and tea station. He opted for the latter. He looked at the hot plate pitcher, noting that there was enough filtered water left in it to make another mug, then pushed the lever down to activate the hot plate. He picked out a bag of chai and dropped it in the mug, then squeezed honey into the bottom. After another minute which he took to ruminate over the day, the water was boiled and he poured it in on top of the bag and honey.

It was great timing as he turned with the mug to face a young Guild Captain who had not yet had a chance to speak.
“Erm...Dekker Bray is through on the video link, Colonel. He finally got to Talika.”

“I’m on my way.” Cogant followed and sat at the waiting screen. He pushed gently at the patch covering his empty eye socket subconsciously, then pressed the appropriate key to enable the connection on his end.
“I’m here.”

Dekker’s general resting expression of annoyance was a bit more pronounced in this case. He took another pull from his glass of scotch as he formulated a statement. In the pecking order, his was the number two guy. In reality, they were equals on this operation & could speak as such…

“Evening, Colonel. I’ve been informed we need to have a conversation about one of our counterparts and their indiscriminate use of chemical incendiaries on what may or may not be legitimate targets. I’ve already briefed my kill teams on my expectations for their behavior in the field, I can provide the same for the boys & girls collecting Varangian Guard paychecks as well. I can even promise to keep the usage of the word ‘fuck’ to a minimum for the sake of professionalism. What I’m unclear on was what sort of ROE they were briefed; none of my guys will be setting fire to anything, at least on purpose. Civilian casualties will be not be tolerated, even collaterally. Violations carry a hefty corporate fine & a pink slip. I assume the same standards are in place for your people...”

He took another swig of his drink, gently swirling the beverage around in the glass in a manner at odds with the bear-paw of a hand enclosing it. He was a bit envious of his own second-in-command in this moment: here he was discussing the actions of one of their peers when he could have been running pre-combat checks on his own equipment in preparation to roll out with the dawn light and get to the dirty business of locating insurgency strongholds in the jungles around their assigned area.

Ragnar had been briefed to conduct a recon operation, but how he did that would (as always) be left up to him. If they could positively identify insurgent activity in the locations his intelligence people had deemed suitable for G-Bases, they’d call in some heavier assets to assist with cleanup. 209 was on standby as a quick-reaction force, stacked heavily with shooters who performed well in direct-action scenarios, carrying the appropriate support firepower and munitions for heavy work.

Cogant sighed.
“Yes, we have strict ROE in the USG. We also handed out ROE guide sheets at the villa meeting in Kenega to every partner leader. Months ago, I know, but I figured that would be important enough to keep and adhere to...and remember. These are supposed to be professional organizations, some genius vetted them into the Guild, right?
I was wrong, I guess. I’m pretty certain we can isolate the compound torching incident. I’m waiting to talk to Eelin Kirves. If you want in on that, you’re welcome to get back here, or we can vid you in.
So...I think the issue is that they assumed that their code superseded the Guild code. It does not. Also, believe it or not...I’m more worried about the Hurtis than the Varangian Guard. Maybe because there’s more of them, but also because they seem pretty dedicated to their very loose code. Rumors are they might do something a little more radical than arrest a bunch of random civilians. After Kirves, our next talk should probably be with Bradley.”

Bray did what he could to hide his irritation. There was now not one, but two groups that apparently needed to be reminded that war still had some rules, even if they were really more of a set of guidelines than anything else. Prior to his employment with Blackwood (which was more of a last-ditch measure than a career choice), he’d run a small independent team that did everything from run guns to legitimate deniable-ops work for the highest bidder (at Dekker’s discretion, he refused to work for rogue states or terrorist groups). Blackwood had provided a measure of security for him against his many enemies he’d made in the course of thirty years of mercenary work, and in return he dealt with whatever nonsense they asked of him.

His preference for field work was a benefit to such an organization, who needed senior leaders who had no qualms about getting their hands dirty. In a highly ironic twist, he’d done a lot more shady work for Blackwood’s “premium clients” than he’d done as an independent contractor. The manner in which the Argonian government kept a stranglehold on its power base was worthy of both an incredible measure of respect and total horrified disbelief at the measures taken to ensure the continuity of government between elections. He recalled a recent domestic operation he’d been asked to handle that had put a number of seven-digit sums in his personal account.

“Whoever is vetting these merry bands of special-needs fuck-wits needs a sharp kick in the ass. This isn’t Africa in the 90’s or Afghan-Iraq-Istan in the early 2000’s. A bunch of trigger-happy dickbags with zero background or personal restraint dragged the industry into the public eye and under a fuck-ton of scrutiny. Personally, we don’t need this shit. It looks bad on all of us, not just their respective organizations. The black ops aren’t staying black and you don’t build any sort of local rapport by detaining civilians, or by burning them alive for that matter…”

Another sip of scotch, which allowed him to gracefully end the rant he’d just realized he was on.

“I’m fine to sit in on these ‘counseling sessions’ but I’d prefer to be here while my boys are out hunting. My FID teams are going to start their introductions to the local military and paramilitary elements tomorrow as well, and while I don’t need to be present for that it’s nice to have a big-wig the local jefe can talk to and feel like he’s being treated as an equal. Our operational effectiveness won’t be compromised by my absence, but I may miss a chance to dig into the local leaders for actionable intel. My FID guy can do that, but he might not have enough ‘juice’ in the eyes of our hosts…”

Dekker’s lead FID operator, a former green-hat named Marcus Slade, was quite capable of schoomizing with the best of them, but caste-bound Sikhs in particular were big on ceremony & knowing one’s place in the overall scheme of things. He wasn’t sure if the senior FID contractor would be seen at a company-level or platoon-level of leadership, not that the ‘Goop troops would have much of an idea how to categorize his people as they didn’t operate off of a conventional rank structure.

“Heh…Yeah. You’re preaching to the choir, Dekker. I agree that the Guild vetting standards are a big fail. You don’t have to physically be here. We’ll vid you in again. You stay there. If something goes down and you need to cut out to deal with it, I’ll understand. Good luck with the integration. Honestly, I’ve been busy working on big picture shit but our integrating with our assigned indige units has been going well according to Merlin and Major Iggy, considering our starting point. I would assume it will go about the same for your folks.”

Cogant understood FID (Foreign Internal Defense) as a term, but it was a very North American-centric term that wasn’t en vogue with the Teremaran PMC circuit, or most circles their group operated in, when conducting COIN ops. As for the ‘counseling sessions’, he had a better feeling about Kirves and VG being able to turn around.

After some colleagues at the Guild had passed along more background info to him about how the Hurtis of HOI operate, he had a lot more misgivings about them and doubts that any sort of ‘come to Jesus’ talk would even work. He felt solid about SSI. They were going to be the other heavy lifter for this contract with the amount of gear and people they brought in. His main concern with them was how slow they were moving in getting FOBs and ops centers set up. They were very vulnerable right now in tents and Suraksha was a hotbed.

Ultimately, Cogant had to work with the other PMCs because his bosses back on the Island wanted the Guild to succeed and continue to take on contracts within that framework. Based on how this contract was going and past sentiments, Laurent wasn’t that sold on the Guild or the need for the USG to be part of it, despite General Tell, the past USG head and his former commander, being the founder of it. Sub-contracting was long a part of industry standards. Pushing for different companies to be equals on the same contract was not. This was business, not a democracy. Technically, the other Guild partners were subcontractors as the USG had brought the contract to them and they had negotiated with the Jaraguptan government to get the biggest payout from it. That is what the Colonel was basing his decisions on. There may come a point where he would butt heads with General van Aardel on cutting loose Guild partners who were not fulfilling their end of the contract adequately.

Dekker allowed a slight smile to crack across his worn features.

“I’d hope so. I’ll pass word up my COC to see what other assets we can wrangle on the Guild’s behalf, should we need to plus up our presence & cover down on ‘admin losses’ but I’d like to lean on the locals as much as possible for the heavy lifting. BW doesn’t have the numbers for mass-deployments but we can likely pull some JC’s in if it becomes a numbers game. Some of their senior troopers have the requisite combat experience and advisory work is as much about interpersonal skills as it is being an SME…”

Part of him was concerned about the number of acronyms he’d tossed around in that fragment of the conversation, it was a habit common among anyone who’d served in a national military force. It was more or less a second language & he’d made double-sure to reinforce the use of plain language to his FID teams. ‘COC’ and ‘SME’ were two of the more common terms across the board (‘Chain of Command’ & ‘Subject Matter Expert’ respectively) but ‘JC’ was (to Dekker’s knowledge) exclusive to the Argonian PMC circuit. ‘Janissary Clans’ referred to a collection of Argonian families who’d monetized the indentured servitude laws in the marshlands by basically forming their own private armies out of what were basically temporary slaves, for lack of a better term.

While their contracts had limits & they were paid fair wages, they didn’t have the operational leeway Dekker & his people did in terms of picking assignments. Where Blackwood operatives wore the title of ‘contractor’ proudly & disdained the term ‘mercenary’, JC’s were literal dog-soldier mercs whose parent clans sold their services to the highest bidder. They were who you went to when you needed a hammer instead of the scalpel provided by Blackwood or Sanguine Solutions. It wasn’t uncommon for Argonian National Police to engage in the occasional gunfight with plainly-dressed but obviously well-trained and experienced shooters during the heavier drug hits; it wasn’t advertised that these weren’t always OG gang-bangers. These were often JC’s taking either criminal syndicate money to protect their drug interests or directly on the payroll of whatever gang had the corners and income to afford professional talent to secure their hard-won territory.

He wasn’t keen on hiring roughneck JC’s for anything other than open combat, but Dekker was a mere senior operations manager. The one advantage JC’s had over the higher-end firms was that many of their ‘volunteers’ were prior military with experience driving armored vehicles, meaning they could effectively fall in on a company of empty tanks and you’d have yourself armored cavalry in an instant, even if the parent clans didn’t maintain such vehicles themselves due to World Assembly regulations.

Dekker hoped it didn’t come to that, that they’d either drag in better replacement companies or they’d get their iffy partners to come around. If they started dragging JC’s in to fill the gaps in the line this would quickly go from a nice, cushy (relatively) advisory gig to a dirty little war in a hurry.

Colonel Cogant looked distracted on his end as he typed, pulling up other windows and shrinking down the video app window. He still continued to glance at Bray and only his eyes shifted to show he was multitasking. ‘SME’ was another non-Teremaran term. There were a few acronyms that popped up, but he locked in on Subject Matter Expert as the most likely culprit. JC was definitely not ‘Jesus Christ’. It seemed to be Argonian-specific. Janissary Clans. Oh yes he did know about those from his research on Blackwood and Argonian PMC history.

Bray was bright and he was perceptive that they might have to bring in replacements to fill in spots in the lines. If Cogant got the green light to cut Varangian Guard loose, which he wasn’t leaning in that direction, it wouldn’t be that large a gap to fill. But if he did cut HOI, which he was leaning towards should they give him a good reason, that would leave a large hole that would be difficult to continue operations in that area due to such an absence of Guild personnel.

“You have a point with local forces. They do need to be able to pick up the slack, should this conflict escalate, as it looks like it’s already doing. I’ve already discussed it with the JRA leadership, but we may need to put into action that they both muster more troops, and also redistribute, probably thinning out the garrisons in the Northern cities and sending those troops south. I don’t think throwing more gendarmes at it is viable, which seems to be their answer. Also their Royal Guard are the most despised, so that’s not an option. They don’t want them on such missions, anyway. We need regular army to train up to a decent level. If we can’t get enough indig units worth training, then I think in about 2-3 weeks time we need to re-evaluate bringing in more Guild personnel...or other subcontractors.”

Bray nodded in agreement, satisfied that the ranking Guild member was working to stay ahead of the various potential issues and not reacting to them. He’d always had issues with staff-grade officers, likely stemming from a number of bad experiences from his service time and beyond. The unfortunate truth of the private sector was that you were never truly your own boss, and frequently those individuals for whom you worked were those same staff-grade stuffed-shirts you butted heads with way back when. Cogant didn’t fit in that category, thankfully.

His own personal plans for his province involved getting the gendarmes more heavily involved in community-level intelligence gathering and urban warfare, leaving the policing aspects to their own internal SOP’s. His people weren’t police for the most part, even those that were had come from nations with heavily militarized paramilitary policing programs. Brazil was one such nation, for example. The regular military would be brought up to speed on counter-insurgency tactics in addition to a focus on jungle warfare with lessons learned from his own Argonian-born specialists. Particularly bright stars in the conventional ranks would be singled out for leadership roles or participation in specialized units. If he could get Royal Guard troops, his people would focus on refining them as a special operations unit, but if not the contingency was to build one (if possible) from the troops on hand if the local military leaders agreed with his assessment of the need for a unit whose sole focus was counter-insurgency operations.

With the Royal Guard’s reputation as low as it was, they’d be better employed as a ‘boogey-man’ of sorts, away from the civilian populations and only deployed with specific objectives in mind for short periods of time. HVT rips, guerrilla hunting trips, all the fun operations a larger conventional force wasn’t designed to handle correctly. His intention was to have his own troops sling as little lead as possible, both to lean on the indig forces to fight their own war, and to keep his people out of unnecessary danger. Contractors of the caliber Blackwood employed were rare, especially at the Special Mission Team (SMT) level.

Both FID & COIN teams would likely see combat before it was all over, however. The former in leading the initial raids and operations from the front, the latter in the course of their duties sussing out G-Bases and insurgency strongholds. He’d likely have them thin the ranks as well, where possible, but keeping as much blood off the hands of his people (at least in the public eye) was important to maintaining their reputation with the civilian populace. It would hopefully deny the enemy willing recruits, or at the very least give them fewer reasons to be resentful of the foreign presence in their towns.

Colonel Cogant continued.
“Roger that. Well then. I think that covers everything. I’m going to be meeting with Kirves here soon enough. We’ll try to vid you in. If you’re not around...well, I’ll understand. Again, I hope the indig training goes well. Check in with me tomorrow. Let me know when you’ll be back this way.”

Bray simply nodded.

“Will do.”

With that, he severed the vid-link & returned to the process of finalizing the deployments of his own assets. It’d be a long day tomorrow...

[Co-RP'd with Wandering Argonians]

---

”Panther” Joint Forces Forward Operations Base
SE of Mavala, Jaragupta

Merlin drove with his associate Intexa officer, Crane, in a USG Katla SUV to the Riysian facility on the base from the USG ops center just a short distance away. As they all held Guild security badges with Panther access, security vetting was much easier. The Riysian guards, once verifying their identities, escorted them into a room where some Riysian gentlemen were waiting.

“I’m glad we all could meet, Mister Merlin, there’s quite a lot to discuss now.” Colonel Akkadi spoke, at the head of the table. “You’ve already met Tarfa at our last briefing“ - Akkadi motioned at the major sitting to his right - “And this is...”

“Marwan Attar, operations.” Said the calm-looking man, in a no-nonsense voice that emphasized how fake his name was.

“Also, we have Lt. Colonel Talal Kuzbari representing the Hay’at al-Arkan - Riysian General Staff.”

“Hello! The General Staff will be providing extra force to operations in this conflict zone, whenever it’s needed.” Cheerfully said the man in camouflage fatigues.

Merlin nodded to each man in turn, acknowledging them and extending a hand.

“Mister Merlin, would you prefer tea, coffee, or water before we start?” Asked the Mukhabarat colonel, the others apparently having made their choice beforehand.

Merlin smiled.
“It’s just ‘Merlin’. I will take a bottled water.” As the USG engineers had yet to be able to set up a proprietary plumbing and filtration system on the base, the local water was less than desirable unless thoroughly boiled and filtered.
“I agree that there is a lot we should discuss and coordinate. If we don’t cooperate, after all, we might be working at cross-purposes."
His mistrust of them and bruised ego at the hands of Riysian revelations during earlier briefs and meetings had jaded his sentiments towards the Mukhabarrat, but he was determined to remain cool and unemotional now, and maybe even just open up and learn a bit from these colleagues. He had brought with him a Schwyz made GXT tablet with which to plug into the Riysian video system, were he required to present some information.

“Of course.” He leaned over to one of the Riysians sitting next to him, whispering something. The man left the room, returning a few minutes later with some bottles in hand, which he placed on the table in front of the attendees.

“Consider this a, er, peace offering from us.” Akkadi smiled. “So! Operations. First, we’ve been informed that the USG has had some success, but we’d like to hear it in detail. Could you please go over it in detail for us? Any interesting intelligence gained?”

Merlin scanned over Akkadi and his subordinates. His first inclination was to balk at sharing classified information, but Colonel Cogant had specified that he needed to be more forthcoming with their client and its allies, or at least this particular ally, the Riysian Republic. He snapped the seal and unscrewed the cap off the water bottle, tilting it in salute to the man who had brought it in.
“Shoh-khran, Effendi. Peace offering? I guess I didn’t realize we were in conflict, Colonel...Um...Soooo...What operations are we talking about exactly?”

“Not exactly conflict, but…” Haidar Akkadi begun to explain.
“...we recognized that we stole the show last briefing, and that probably didn’t go over well.” Major Tarfa seamlessly concluded.

Merlin shrugged, rather than respond that that might be the case.

“So we’re hoping to mend our relations a bit and be more efficient in sharing information. It won’t help if we’re divided while the Marxists aren’t….as for operations, this one, with the prisoner.” Akkadi slid a piece of paper over.

“Don’t be silly. Nothing to mend…” Merlin scrutinized the paper. “Although...efficiency and more cooperation are definitely goals we should strive to...achieve…Oh.” He said as he had scanned through the document and it clicked what operation they meant.
His stomach sunk a little.
How did they get this shit? This incident was still pretty fresh. Who was giving this info out like little candies? We’re sharing. We have to share. We are allies. Allies.
Maybe Colonel Cogant himself had given the report to them, or they probably just walked right in and requested it. They had the clearance on Panther Base, after all.

“This is very fresh. I recall it very well. We actually took three prisoners. The chain of custody to get them to detention until our Intexa assets could arrive was...um...imperfect, let’s say. The JRA guards mishandled them and roughed them up pretty bad. Luckily, the only one with intel value was still in good health. I got some insight into our...Top priority right now. We’ll say that.”
He shoved the paper back across the table. Then he fired up the GXT 8. The report he had on there was still way more in depth than what they had.

“Ah.” A murmur of uncomfortable acknowledgment went around the Riysian side.

“That was a concern of ours too - JRA personnel being too eager to settle ethnic scores.” Akkadi added. “I’m glad to hear that at least it was salvageable, but we’ll have to keep a better eye out for all of this...please, continue, we’re all listening.“ The Riysians turned to the metal-encased computer screen mounted on the wall, waiting for Merlin to plug in its cable into his tablet and start up his presentation.

Merlin did just that. He tapped and swiped a few times to get to where he needed, and suddenly, the application was starting. A picture of the prisoner, bruised, battered, and shell shocked sat in the stark white interrogation room.
“As I said, we didn’t do this...our local friends did. It took a while to calm him down. I used some persuasion. The main goal, besides many other intel points, is to get confirmation that the ISVC are indeed here on the island and actively advising the HDLF, main or splinter factions, in insurgency tactics. I suspect that they don’t actually use the acronym or talk about the Socialist Congress, because this fella didn’t know what any of that meant. He did admit they worked with foreigners and that they looked differently and spoke different languages among each other. This guy is the equivalent of an NCO, or mid-level management from what I could gather. So he has some access to them. They’re here in Prakaran, they’re in Mehatar. That’s all he knows because that’s the extent of his cell. Extrapolating from that, we might have to assume there are ISVC advisory groups in every major city and inbetween, at least in the South.”
He changed the picture to one of the map of Jaragupta with cities and key points highlighted in red. The Guild and JRA bases were in blue.
Merlin sipped his water,
“...Another prisoner we detained earlier mentioned the ‘black man’ who showed them how to plant bombs, and he described a group of East Asians...He used a bit of a derogatory gesture, stretching the corners of his eyes...but it was pretty obvious what he was implying...these Asians led them in marksmanship and leap frog or fire and movement training.”

A couple of the Riysians snickered at the description of the prisoner’s gesture. So much for socialist brotherhood, they thought.

“That makes sense to me as well, Merlin. They certainly could cover a lot of the country even with a small force of people.” Akkadi commented, thinking.

“And there is a large Hamikh population in that area.” Tarfa added his thoughts.

“The HDLF seems to be decently compartmentalized, whether or not because of the new training. I guess we will require someone higher up to get better coverage.” Akkadi glanced at Attar. “Anything else to report? If not - ” He glanced around the table “- we will share what we have found.”

“There is one other thing. This may overstep my bounds and you may have already discussed this with the Jaraguptan joint chiefs and Colonel Cogant, but…”

A slide replaced the last with a rather large, odd profiled ship. It was an aerial view from off the port side.
“...What about this makeshift light carrier? The Pan-Asian one out off the coast. Are there any plans to bring in Riysian naval assets to deal with it or advise the JRN?
As you may know, we’re sending out air patrols to shadow and monitor it, but that might not be enough. If the JRN faces off with it and things go hot with the Pan-Asians, they could throw countless capital ships at Jaragupta that would outnumber the Rajah’s navy hundreds of times over. The reason for my concern...How it effects by bailiwick as you might say, is if they try to smuggle in supplies from the carrier to HDLF cells through landing small parties at night. That’s a lot of coastline to cover. Our efforts to insert moles into the coastal cells is so far...unsuccessful. The pool of qualified Hamikh agents who will turn on their own people is quite small.”

“The answer to that is - yes.” Lt. Col. Kuzbari responded. “There is a patrol frigate inbound along with a signals ship. Additionally, we have a submarine in the area for recce. God Willing, with that and our surveillance methods, we can intercept any landing parties.”


“Roger that. That is reassuring. Well, I have monopolized your time. I apologize. You said you had some information to share?”

[To Be Continued. Co-RP'd with Riysa]

---

Battle for Mulayam Pathar Ridge, (Part Two)
Southeast of Prakaran
North of the Danjarit Mountains

Certain lessons were hardwired and learned when doing small unit patrols, no matter the terrain. For the men and women of 2nd squad of 1st scout platoon, 2nd GRCT Co., these lessons had usually been learned first hand in the national armies they had first started their soldiering careers in. It was reinforced subsequently during contracts with the USGSC, and in some rare instances, the PMC they had served in before the USG.

Such lessons included not doing routine patrols over the same ground at the same time of day, for you set yourself up for certain ambush. Another was noise discipline - there's no need for unnecessary talking, or verbal communication at all when out in hostile country. Also, be mentally familiar with your patrol map. Know your entry, know your exfiltration, and know all the terrain in between. Know at least four other routes to get your asses out of the fire. Not just your unit leader, but everyone had to know because anyone of the patrol might need to take over at any given time. The USG had battlefield mini tablets to help with that, loaded with maps and data, but...technology had an odd way of going belly up at the worst times.


That's where 2nd squad was at when they headed out with 3rd platoon, Jha Company, 1st Bn of the Elephant Regiment - their partnered unit from the Jaraguptan Royal Army. The USG squad was dispersed throughout the JRA platoon column, with about 10 Jaraguptans between each contractor.

Lt. Songfeld was in charge of the USG squad and liaising with Haraburtra, the JRA lieutenant in charge of the platoon. He had not been with the USG long enough to have been a Hutanjian veteran, but he had been blooded in his service with the NEDM, during the Northern Tavlyrian War and the liberation of Glisandia.

Songfeld shook his head, realizing that Haraburtra already had let discipline slip among the platoon. Chattering at several points, as well as clambering of equipment could be heard. The contractors did their best to signal with motions for the violators to knock it off, but to no avail. It was about then that the HDLF and their ISVC comrades decided to spring their trap.

From the very first crack, Songfeld and the other contractors knew that this was it. Enemy contact. They all began to shout to their respective indige squads,
"Move!"

"Charge!"

One of the lessons to be learned from ambushes, hopefully not in such a traumatic first hand manner, was that one had to move and not stay a sitting duck. There was no such thing as safe cover. Staying stationary meant inviting mortars, grenades and bullets to rain down upon you.
Moving forward was not necessarily safe, either.

If the enemy was good, they would expect the ambushed force to try to break out and have the flanks covered with IEDs, claymores, tripwire grenades, etc. They would be set a couple meters back or more, ready to shoot up whoever survived the initial trap. Being on the receiving end of the ambush, you had to fight like devils and accept that you still had a good chance of getting your ticket punched, regardless. Might as well go down a hero and take as many of them with you as you can.

Unfortunately for the contractors and the platoon from Elephant Regiment, the ISVC advisors had drilled their charges well enough. Jaraguptan soldiers fell in droves, cut down by the explosives and concentrated fire. Those not dead in the first few seconds made a decent accounting of themselves, driving fire back into the ambushers and making them pay in blood for their brief victory.

Lt. Haraburtra was one of the first casualties, the blast of a reconfigured mine caving in his skull before he could utter a word. Songfeld, not hearing commands in the Hindi dialect of the island, was pretty sure he was nominal commander of the force now. He knew the drill.

Keep your force in motion. While he attempted to do this, not waiting for the indecisive JRA NCOs to step up, he was delivered his first rude shock. A burst of AR rounds caught him across the chest, driving him down to the jungle floor. Luckily, his plate carrier was able to absorb them, but with the short distance, it clearly took the wind out of him. As he tried to rise up, a grenade ripped into the two Jaraguptan soldiers closest to him, peppering Songfeld with fragments. The two JRA soldiers lay dormant, but then one got up to crawl forward.

Once again, the Lieutenant struggled to his feet, feeling the raw stinging and sharp pains across his body as the metal shards that had penetrated between his armor shifted with his muscles, tearing as they moved. He exhaled in bursts as he felt the red hot pain, but he still grasped the crawling ally to drag him the rest of the way to the relative safety of a tree trunk. Another burst of rifle rounds hit him in the back, flinging his front to smack into the tree.

Even though all that was not enough to keep Lt. Songfeld down, the subsequent anti-personnel RPG that hit next to him as he pushed up from the trunk was the final straw. It tore through him and severed two arteries, not to mention obliterating his face and throat, had he survived. It was quite merciful that he did not.

Lieutenant Hercule Songfeld was to become the first USG fatality of the Jaragupta contract, but he wouldn't hold the distinction of being the only one for very long. Soon to follow him to the afterlife by mere minutes were Sergeant Sadiq Al Khadesh and Corporal Sammy Phuong. The Sergeant felled by heavy caliber bullets from the HDLF support machine gun, while Corporal Phuong was shredded by two separate IED shrapnel blasts, bleeding out in minutes from a multitude of wounds as medics struggled to reach him.

Somewhere around this time, Senior Sergeant * Emilio Santos was aware that the leadership mantle for the USG squad, and likely their partnered JRA platoon, had fallen to him. Santos and the contractors and Jaraguptan troopers around him followed his suit, flinging every hand grenade and launching every underslung round in their arsenal towards one section of the trail. Their only chance was a breakout, and they paid for it in flesh and blood. Several troopers fell, but others continued to drive forward, widening the puncture in the wall of fire that was the well led HDLF fighters.

Santos guided more troops out, but he and a small squad stayed to cover. The remnants of 3rd ptn, Jha/1st Bn/Elephant Regiment followed through the gap. They fought their way into the jungle, fighting off HDLF counterattacks.

Santos took a moment to crouch behind cover as he linked into Guild HQ.
“This is Scorp 3! We are under heavy attack! This is Scorp 3 to Pulpit.”

“Pulpit to Scorp 3. We read you. Give us your grid digits.”

Santos did.

“Help is on the way. Hold tight, Scorpion. Keep fighting.”

Pulpit scrambled air support and the quick response force, which at that time was a team from Blackwood. In the meantime, another USG platoon and Varangian Guard unit were called to act as blocking forces to trap the ambushers into an ambush. If the HDLF chose to stand here, they would get their fight.

[Co-RP'd with Jaragupta]

* Senior Sergeant in the USG and NEDF is equivalent to a North American Sergeant First Class)

[Falkasia]

Mehatar Grande Hotel
Mehatar, Jaragupta

Their ping-pong game was interrupted. Over the din of The Backstreet Boys playing on an old cassette player, the company radio crackled to life.

Eelin was there first, vaulting over a stack of weapons crates with abandon and sending a handful of half finished aluminium beer cans flying in all directions.

"Broken arrow! Broken arrow!" The voice wailed, bringing a sadistic smile to her face.

"Time to saddle up boys!" She whooped, turning to face a small crowd which had gathered in the former downstairs dining room turned command center. "Get your gear together."

They stared at her, eyes progressively growing wider as reality dawned on them. Eelin slammed her fist down on the cassette player, launching the old reel tape at her men.

"Come on! Get your gear! Let's go. Quit playing games with my heart!" She screamed, waving them out of the room.

They took no further cajoling. In an instant, they were scrambling to all corners grabbing discarded body armor and weapons. Kirves turned around towards the enormous array of monitors and data displays which now adorned the otherwise pastel pink walls. It couldn't have come at a better time either, her smartphone informed her jolting to life. Her scheduled meeting with Cognant would have to wait. Human life above all, right? She toothily smiled again as the irony of her thought collapsed upon her like a burning building.

There was one last thing to set the mood. She reached around a laptop and pressed a big red button, hidden slightly underneath a pile of manila folders. The atmosphere all around her exploded with the indiscriminate sound of a klaxon, one they had installed on all four corners of the hotel and throughout town near the buildings they had commandeered to serve as barracks. This was going to be a ton of fun.

======

Streams of men and material spewed everywhere, not too dissimilar from a levee about to burst. The commotion was incredible, but comparatively seamless and well-rehearsed. Duty sergeants had gathered their troops from the inevitable counter-attack, and were holding impromptu briefings where ever they could before dispatching to the edge of town. The assortment of U-2s and light trucks buzzed like worker bees, shuttling ammunition and small arms to the men and to various chokepoints around the town. Just a few steps away was the town square, which they had converted into a makeshift helipad.

The V-25 had already spun up, it's two enormous rotors ripping bark from the nearby palms and smaller plants right out of the ground. In the back, Senior Sergeant Ramirez was loading his men up. He had been the obvious choice, even before they had made landfall, to run the ten man quick reaction force. His past, while not remarkable, did include more embassy protection and evacuation details than most operators would experience in their entire career. He knew how to get in, secure an objective, then get out in the most expedient manner possible. His weapon of choice was typically a sawed-off stagecoach shotgun, but today he had opted for a more traditional ACR carbine. Heavily modified for his hulking frame, of course.

Eelin shot him the bird, to which he smirked and replied double in-kind as the enormous aircraft lifted from the ground.

Following close behind was an up-armored MD-500, crosses hastily duct-taped in red to the sides. Although they doubted the natives cared at all for the conventions of war, it was better to call out the evacuation helicopter than simply let it be mistaken for a troop transport. There would be no armed guards, only their two corpsmen Specialists Ron "Sparky" Sanderson and Anastasia "Heimlick" Milosevic. Both had been employed prior with DUSTOFF, a Falkasian medical-rescue NGO. Like the Jaraguptan locals, money always talks.

The ground crew continued to quanco pitch bundles of cellophane-wrapped medical supplies into the back of the helicopter. If they were unable to put down, they'd simply drop the materials over the firefight and bugger out. Quite frankly, Eelin surmised, it looked like they were smuggling cocaine. In this case, appearances mattered little. They'd get the job done.

Ron leaned out of the rear compartment and waved his hands with open palms. The ground crew nodded and backed away, with the flight captain jerking his right hand upward three times in a directive that bore only passing semblance to a Nazi-esque salute. By the second motion, the helicopter was already almost 20 feet off the ground pitching sharply forward to keep pace with the V-25.

Kirves averted her eyes downward as an enormous blast of wind nearly blew her over. Her long braid undid itself, sending hair flying everywhere. This was fun, she squealed inwardly.

"Bro..... ar....ken.... row" Her radio continued to wail. She reached down, unclipping it from her belt and raising it to her mouth.

"Pulpit, ....uhhh..."

She realized that they didn't yet have a call-sign for their AO. There was only one choice.

"Pulpit... Phoenix Actual. Two birds scrambling to vicinity of Scorpion. Call-signs Angel; SAR, and Demon; CAS. Advise Scorpion lase targets, pop smoke on location, and transmit on secure frequency squawk 120.19 for danger-close tasking. ETA seven mikes out. How copy?"

[Shalum]

SSI Operational Zone
Suraksha, Jaragupta

Colonel Mayer had never expected to feel at home a thousand miles away from his beloved Empire.

As the pressed gravel roads crunched beneath his boots, the dark haired officer paused for a moment to reach up and adjust his billed cap. The last thing he wanted to do was set a bad example, even if no one was really paying attention to him at the moment. Since they had arrived, the compound had been a continual hub of activity, to the chagrin of the locals no doubt. The tent city was giving way to actual buildings. They weren’t especially pretty to look at, admittedly, but they were functional and his men were comfortable. It was the most he could ask for, given the circumstances.

A couple hundred yards away, a small team of engineers wiped worked back and forth across an open patch of land that was cordoned off by the perimeter bastion. Heavy duty rollers packed down loose dirt time and time again until it was practically concrete. The colonel would have much preferred the real deal, but with their current workload and small team of engineers, it was hard enough to get a temporary airfield established - much less something more permanent. At the moment, he would have much preferred to work on a dozen other tasks, but his helicopter support group was in dire need of parking spots.

If trouble happened to arise, he would have much preferred a Hind or two in the sky, rather than the small drones his people carried at the squad level.

The night before, he had met with his people, wanting to pry at their minds now that they had some time to settle in. They had started the training regime of the local troops that morning. It was too early to tell how it would go, they weren’t exactly a training regiment, but every operator assigned to the task had at least four years experience in the armed forces back home. ”So, boys, what are you thinking?”

The assembly was split about sixty-forty as far as men and women went. One captain had smiled wryly as she set her cap down on the table and began to fix her hair, letting it hang down for a moment as she took hold of her hair tie. “It’s going to be another week before we can even take them out on the practice range, last I heard from the boys in engineering. Not exactly doing us a lot of good,” she shrugged.

”It’s not the end of the world. At least it gives us time to evaluate their readiness.” Another pointed out from behind the mug of a coffee cup. In theory, anyone who made it as far as their training camp should have already been ready for a fight, especially given recent events. “I’m going to have third squad run PT drills with ‘em all day tomorrow. Access where they’re strong, where they need work, and so on.”

Conversation wound on about that for a while. The colonel had bounced around from task to task so much over the last few days that he had been hands-off, essentially, in regards to the training regime of local forces. He had people to handle tasks like that, and trusted their judgement more than his own.

“Ah, sir?” The captain from earlier asked as she leaned back against her chair. “We’ve been getting reports through the Guild channels about a raid on an insurgent hideout.” They had all been briefed on potential opposition. Ideally, they wouldn’t run into any enemy combatants, but few doubted that this would be such a clean operation. “Do we need to prep the patrol teams?”

“Negative. So long as they maintain their vigilance, I don’t see a reason to.” Everyone knew what they were facing. If they weren’t ready for it already, the colonel wasn’t sure what another briefing would do for them. “Have the checkpoints established?”

“Aye, sir.” The captain nodded. “We’ve set up a one block perimeter around the FOB. Now that we’ve started to settle in, the patrol patterns have been set up as well. I’d dare say the locals know us by now,” she smiled tightly.

[Mubata]

Battle of Mulayam Pathar Ridge, (Part Three)
Danjarit Mountains, South Central Jaragupta

Kamano, the Mubatan guerrilla advisor, didn't have a whistle, megaphone, horn or any such way to get his native Jaraguptan colleagues to heed commands. He hadn't expected to get any control over the chaos, either. Once the ambush broke over their prey, the best that could be hoped was that the HDLF fighters remembered their training.

He did have a radio, but he wouldn't really need that, either. The sounds of impacting RPGs, detonating placed charges and the sharp staccato of Falkasian and PKM heavy machine guns would vector in the other columns. His Yellowsian and fellow Mubatan advisors did indeed get their HDLF columns to break away from their set up ambushes on the other trails, as rehearsed many times.

Bringing in additional forces beyond that would be much more difficult. Not because they weren't available, but because CAIF HQ would balk at committing them. To be fair, it could pen in the ISVC/HDLF units into a potential trap. Gathering that many rebels could make it easier for the Guild/gov forces, like grabbing fish in a bowl, vulnerable to mass air attacks as well as organized RJA units. The balancing factor was their stocked MANPADS and SAM's which could be used effectively to fend off the enemy aircraft.

Headquarters refused to take his direct call, certain it would lead the Guild straight to their doorstep. They severed the link four times and Kamano finally had to try a different tactic. He had no way to message, with cell reception either blocked or spotty.

Kamano screamed into the radio on the channel to Luglerssen, his Yellowsian RLO colleague in charge of the Northern HDLF raiding group. He convinced him to send on the column, but hold back in order to communicate with headquarters and nearby friendly groups. After reading off his coordinates and that of the enemy, repeated three more times, he bid goodbye, unable to know how much Luglerssen actually heard, due to the raucous din. He could only hope that the higher ups seized upon this opportunity to wipe out the enemy and reap the resultant propaganda coup.
He was entirely too busy keeping up the pressure to maintain communications with his fellow CAIF advisors. As the enemy attempted their breakout, the HDLF and their foreign advisors worked hard to keep it a bubble and not an arrow breaking free.

---

ISVC-CAIF HQ
Mehetar, Jaragupta

While it was true that CAIF HQ shut down communications from the advisors serving with the HDLF groups operating in the Danjarit mountains, it wasn't for lack of concern for the situation developing there. It was solely to encourage usage of the Mosaic Network, in order to use the safety of the layers of analog subterfuge and proxies set up.

Despite this precaution, acknowledgement that their position might already have been compromised triggered a packing up of the headquarters and preparation for fallback to another safeguarded location. Ironically, their original fallback had been the HDLF compound torched by marauding Varangian Guard forces. With that off the table, they opted for another multi-story location, also in the prevalent outskirt slums of Mehatar.
News of the developing battle in the Danjarit mountains just to the north rocked headquarters and caused a shift that would effect the prosecution of the war from that day forward and reverberations for the Hamikh socialist cause, the ISVC, and the advisors on the front lines. HDLF groups that could would be moved in to aid in the battle, including ones advised by Viet, Vionnan and Pan-Asian units.

Colonel Fodenka consulted with the other ISVC military leaders that were part of the mission. They all agreed that this might be the time to take a stand and up the ante. He then met with Rosita Esongka, in charge of intelligence and sabotage operations for the mission. They agreed that it now or never to push forward the time table for the planned uprisings in Suraksha and on Gahana. She sent the pre-ordained signals off to Yamala, Evans and Datu Berampu to put that in motion.

If the Gahana garrison fell, the HDLF could lock down the island, seizing permanent territory for the rebels and enabling the ISVC to both airlift in troops and supplies as well as bring in the Honshu, the Pan-Asian carrier, which could also offload more supplies and troops for the cause.

The next step was to either take advantage of an outburst in Suraksha, courtesy of Datu Berampu’s people, or failing that, take advantage of a predicted draining of forces from the northeast coast of the main island to reinforce the south, and make massive landings far from where the enemy expected opposition...All along that northeastern coastline. This required much more pledged ISVC conventional forces, but that was already comfortably guaranteed. Some ISC nations had already mobilized and others wouldn’t take long to follow suit. The debate in the Congress at Bratislava had been heated, but in the end they had come to a consensus. Jaragupta would be brought into the fold, as long as the cost was reasonable and equitable across the constituent members of the Congress and their contributed forces to the ISVC.

Lastly, was the cyber warfare front. Mehatar HQ knew that the Riysians, Guild and other government allies would go into full swing to monitor communications between the HDLF Danjarit mountains battlefront and themselves. The Commonwealther cyber specialists, both in Mavala and Mehatar, hunkered down and went to work to tap into those enemy cyber assets trying to hack the ISVC; working to instead flip the tables and expose them; where and when and how they were operating, and how best to shut them down in the future as the big push went into effect. In summary, the enemy’s activity to break the communications of the CAIF was turned and used against them.

[RP Contributed by The Cardwith Islands, Yellow Star Republic, Post War America, Vionna-Frankenlisch, Divine Great Viet, and Pan-Asiatic States]

[Port Ember]

Hawk Privateer's Pirate Fleet
International Waters - Approaching the Northeast Wishton Sea

Onboard the Rydell Class Cargo Ship, SS Madrid

Captain Finigan was seated in the bridge, sipping on a mug of coffee which was strong enough to kill lesser men outright, while occassionally dragging upon his thick rum-infused cigar. He had a slight frown upon his brow, which looked odd, considering he also wore a faint smile on his dry lips. He frequently stared into the vast open ocean around him, and could not help but feel at home. The ocean was the one place he could always feel at home.

Open in front of the captain was a thick leather file folder, containing all the neccesary paperwork to ensure his genuis plan worked out. Papers like his cargo manifest - declaring a shipment of medical supplies, and registration papers declaring his vessel as a spanish trader, contracted by thr Red Cross, to deliver its cargo at the port of Gyani. It all seemed very legit. Offcourse the papers said nothing about the hidden storeroom of top level military kit and weapons, nor about the fact that each crew member was pirates with years of military and naval experience.

The captain continued to open his secure computer tablet, to stare at the gorgeous satelite photo - complete with co-ordinates, of the aircraft carrier Honshu. The captain's big fat prize.

The captain knew that when he completed his contract, he and his men will be rich. Decently rich in fact. And more importantly - gain favour from his employer, Admiral Hawk. And that alone is worth more than a ton of gold.

The captain looked upon the empty radar screen, knowing that although they could not be seen, they were there. 6 Jolly Roger Class Missile Boats. Those little buggers are the real threat of the day, and the key to sinking a carrier. Their small build and stealth features would make them invisible to their prize, until its too late.. The captain could feel it in his bones - a glorious day is rising soon, as his cargo ship ever approaches their target.

[Jaragupta]

Guild HQ
Mavala, Jaragupta

“I need to speak with Colonel Cogant.” Marshal Ralabar Balakrishnan strode into the room, having blown by the security desk in the lobby. He was followed by two other Jaraguptan Royal Armed Forces general staff officers - aides.

Major Pyrczinski stood up to attention. He muttered to the Lieutenant he’d been conversing with,
“Get Merlin in here now.” The USG LT, quickly stood to attention to the Marshal, then ran out.
Iggy returned his attention to the senior most ranking Jaraguptan officer, unless you counted the Rajah himself.
“Marshal, it is an honor. The Colonel is out at the moment.”

“Then Dekker Bray. I am wanting to speak with the Blackwood man.”

“He is also not here, The worse luck of it. You are stuck with myself.”

It was obvious that the Marshal was used to having his way, even though Colonel Cogant did nothing to encourage that within these premises.
“Where is the spy man? The short one with the funny name? Dungeon Master? Magic Boy?”

“Uh...Merlin, sir?”

“Yes. That one.”

“He’s on his way.”

“Good. I need to talk...with both of you.”

Merline entered the lobby.
"Right, I'm here! What the he...Oh.my apologies, Marshal. I wasn't advised of your arrival."
He glared at the Lieutenant that followed him in. He glanced at the Polish born Major. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Privacy."

"Matters of privacy?"

"We need to talk in private."

"Oh, certainly. That can be arranged. Follow me." Merlin led the procession down the hall, Marshal Balakrishnan and Major Pyrczinski following. He passed three doors before choosing one on the left.
"After you." He said as he opened the door.

They found themselves in a comfortably sized conference room with basic brown chairs on rollers and white folding tables butted together to show its temporary nature.
The Major pointed to the head chair and the Marshal took it without hesitation.
When they were settled in, Merlin tried again. "What is your concern, Sir?"

"Oh... I don't know that I would call it a concern. I just felt that I should inform the Colonel...and
now you, of a development. We have initiated another contract."

"I see. I take it not with a Guild approved contractor?"

"Actually, legally it’s more of a letter of marquee, I suppose."

"Privateers?!" Merlin was slightly shocked and irritated.

Major Pyrczinski was more confused.
"Does the World Assembly even recognize letters of marquee, anymore?"

Merlin was pretty sure he knew where this was going. "What's the name of this...group, Sir?"

"The Hawk privateers."

“I’ve heard of them.” There weren’t many groups in related industries, if not proper PMCs, that Merlin had not heard about.
“What did you contract them for?...Er, issue a letter of marquee for, rather?”

“We want them to attack that enemy light carrier and sink it or seriously damage it.”

Merlin rubbed at his temples. The Pan-Asian carrier.
“I suppose you are aware that such an act might escalate this conflict into full blown international war?”
The Pan-Asiatic states alone could overrun this whole island, not to mention the combined might of the ISVC forces. They still didn’t have concrete proof of their involvement, but everything pointed that way. He was not about to lay all that on the Marshal right now.
“...Even if that doesn’t happen, there are so many international ramifications to this. I just wish you had consulted with us, Marshal.”

The Mashal waved his hand.
“You are being melodramatic. This is the perfect solution to that menace out there. Plausible deniability and all.”

“You really think they will believe that?”

“They who?”

“The enemy that owns, commands and supplies that ship.”

“You are dancing around the elephant in the room, as they say. We all know who owns that ship.”

“We have a good idea, yes.”

“There are bigger issues here than your contract being in jeopardy, which, by the way, we can cancel when we feel it is appropriate...”

There were clauses the Marshal might not be aware of, but the Rajah he served was.

“We need to send a message that these are our waters. The communists are not welcome. Their friends are not welcome. We have friends to back us up, ones that we don’t have to pay for…” He was bluntly obvious with that barb, “Friends that can mobilize a lot more forces, ones that don’t operate like a motorcycle gang.”

Major Pyrczinski jumped in there.
“When you’re done insulting us, Marshal Balakrishnan. Might I remind you that the major forces on the island right now are Guild forces, besides your army and national police force. All due respect to them, but they need a little more training and we are still the best forces on the ground right now. Even if you bring in the Riysians full scale, they don’t have the number of elite troops that the whole Guild does, even though their best are very good.”

“You talk about the whole Guild, but you were never willing to bring in the whole Guild like we asked…”

“The whole Guild isn’t available, and also, we covered the fact that we can’t mass troops on your small island. Your logistics couldn’t handle it and you simply don’t have the room to accommodate those numbers. Not for us, nor for the Riysians, who are on the same page as us, anyway…”

“Before I was rudely interrupted, I wanted to say that the Riysians aren’t our only friends.”

“Yes, we know, but they’re the only friends you have that are paying attention...”

“You, no doubt, are aware of the major investment that some other nations have here.”

“Like Gaul and New Hyannis?”

“To name a couple of the biggest investors, yes.”

Major ‘Iggy’ Pyrczinski put his hands down on the table. He’d never had to host the chief of a nation’s armed forces on his own before, and didn’t think it was going all that well now.
“Marshal, I think you should hold tight on this and we will have the Colonel get back to you.”

“You are dismissing me, Major?” The Jaraguptan leader smiled. “I’m joking. I’m done, anyway...for now. But yes, have the Colonel get in touch with me soonest.”

“We will do that, Sir. You have a good day. There’s a Lieutenant in the hallway waiting to escort you back to your officers waiting in the lobby.”

When he left, the Major and Merlin sat in the room, first staring at the table, then looking up at each other.
Merlin spoke first,
“Well...we’re not contract negotiators, so…”

“We’re fucked.”

---

[Co-RP'd with USG Security Corporation]

[Pan-Asiatic States]

The Honshu sits quietly on International Waters.

P.A.S Type V-322E Jurōjin-Class Aircraft Carrier Honshu
International Waters
Gathering Storm

---

Each and every day, the crew of the Honshu feared for their very lives. And what reason did they have for not freezing in anxiety at the very thought of what they were doing? When your country asks you to sit like a duck at the enemy's front door, coordinating subversive activities without any extra Naval support, even a god would piss his pants. Because of the confidentiality of each of the Maritime Army's operations, the common seamen of Pan-Asiatic grey ships never really knew what to expect until they arrived within the AO of their deployment. And when they did arrive, they were told of how one mistake—forgetting to encrypt messages from certain programs or writing back home about sensitive information that could lead to the demise of the operation if gossiped to the wrong people, could lead to the deaths of hundreds, perhaps even thousands. Civilians could get killed, the HDLF's soldiers could be slaughtered; and of course there was always the factor that their own lives were at stake at the center of it all.

A week prior to the arrival of the Shalumite Security International Forces, a clandestine cargo bearing the marks of the Pan-Asiatic Ministry of Defense was received on the bay of the Honshu dropped-off by a supply convoy which had been part of a detachment of the 8th Fleet officially conducting "training sessions" in and around International Waters. Aside from several months' worth of standard 5.45x39mm rounds, the crew discovered a company's worth of Tavor X95 Assault Rifles; advanced 21st Century weaponry courtesy of a recent negotiation between the Pan-Asiatic government and the socialist government of Danlina. Easy to operate, with several fire-modes, these were ideal for small-scale precision operations such as that which was to follow. Luck shined upon the Nusantara Marines. Opportunity presented itself to the HDLF.

Orders of what was to come followed 12 hours after the arrival of the special package. A special communique had been sent to the Honshu directly from the Secretary-General's office, orders to spark what several months of planning prepared each Marxist insurgent on the island under the PASAF's influence for. The Babaylan of both Datu Berampu's and Datu Ho's contingent were forwarded the command.

Days later, on the night before the Battle of Mulayam Pathar Ridge, the Honshu and its crew were once again on-edge; decoding transmissions between the CAIF, HDLF, and other ISVC groups for troop movement and deployment information. These details of engagement had to be processed, the orders derived and deliberated from and by the Secretary-General of the Pan-Asiatic States (and/or the Asian Military Command), and then forwarded to the operators themselves. Nevertheless, by the end of the night, the green-light for Berampu's Pradhaan Group and Ho's Suraksha Group to assist in this essential operation had been given. But first, as per advised by several ISVC superiors, there were some things that needed being taken care of. The large package received earlier was re-packed into several air-tight blue containers, wrapped to hold together by rope, and tossed by a dinghy into a specific part of the Southern Jaraguptan coast. The weight of the ammunition caused it to sink to the depths of the ocean.

By the break of dawn, a different dinghy, this time bearing the marks of "local" fishermen, received it in good condition. The Nusantara Marines of Ho's invincible Suraksha contingent did not have the military equipment they were accustomed to using when diving at such depths, but that did not stop them. It took three to five people to dive and retrieve the packages which were scattered at different areas of the coast, and took a great deal of effort to do so; but the (gun) powder remained dry, and that was all that mattered.

Suraksha

---

Datu Ho and his men ushered-in the suspicious-looking packages into their humble abode rather quickly as to avoid attracting attention. It was still early in the day, and they still had the opportunity to stealthily disseminate its contents into less-suspicious sacks before the local villagers woke-up to start their respective days. Their own combat rifles, deadly-accurate and long-range HAR-87s, were disassembled and mixed with the ammunition.

One of the Babaylan of the Suraksha Group, Kemuning binti Perwira, radioed the HDLF rebels under their wing, who, in the distant forests they hid in, had been waiting all night for that transmission.

"Suraksha Marine Group to all units, Phase 2 is now in motion. I repeat, Phase 2 is now in motion, package and escort squads are 10-4.

Suraksha Marine Group to Pradhaan Indigenous Group, rendezvous at Site Maharlika-8 at 0600 Hours.

Suraksha Marine Group to Gahana ISVC Contingent, rendezvous at Site Aguinaldo-2 at 0700 Hours.", gently relayed the feminine Babaylan. Datu Ho nodded.

"Acknowledged, welcome troop en route to Site Maharlika-8.", anxiously reciprocated a young HDLF operator from the Pradhaan Indigenous Group. The Gahana ISVC Contingent acknowledged the genesis of the next step as well. Datu Ho gathered his men and recited his commands:

"Let's run by this one last time. Kapitan Mulia bin Sabtu's Squad A, ten men, will deliver the X95s and a portion of the ammunition to our friends in the Pradhaan jungles. Kapitana Talitha Surbakti's Squad B, ten men including myself, will deliver the rest to the Vionnan-Cardwithian-HDLF cadre in Gahana. We all rendezvous at our Pradhaan HQ by 1300 Hours, then by boat from the mouth of it, cross the River that cuts this country, and assist our comrades in Prakaran; no fuck-ups allowed. Don't be late, don't get killed, and worst of all, don't. get. caught.

Keep your wits about you. If it comes to it, prefer death over getting caught. Crush all those who oppose you."

"Affirmative!", vigorously replied his contingent.

With that, the game was once again afoot.

A decommissioned Jaraguptan army jeep, which locals had been using for personal transportation, was lended by local sympathizers to Kapitan Mulia bin Sabtu and his men to initiate the long drive across the hills and forests, towards Pradhaan.

Motorboats from an anonymous "upper-class" sympathizer were requisitioned by Kapitana Surbakti, and her contingent dressed in civilian clothing, who were not to change into appropriate uniforms of the HDLF until when they got to battle, drove into the sunrise horizon. Passing-by schools of fishes and ornate coral reefs, they counted each bullet themselves, ready to supply their comrades in Gahana.

Pradhaan HDLF Hideout

---

Weeks before the Guild and Riysian arrivals, the HDLF Commander of the Pradhaan guerilla cadre brought the issue of low ammunition stores and dated weaponry to the Pradhaan Marines operating there. Low supply meant the flames of covert operation could not be fanned as effectively as they were intended to be. Teenagers had died wielding rifles which jammed, malfunctioned, or had run out of ammunition. This did not bode well with the resistance.

That was about to change, and right when the ISVC needed it most. Near midday, the Marxist revolutionaries of Jaragupta, young-blooded but well-motivated upholders of the Communist cause, stood in attention with smiles on their faces towards Squad A of the Suraksha contingent. The company's worth of militiamen, who, for the past week had been prepared for the harshest conditions by dedicated veterans of the Pradhaan Marine Group, had also in the process, learned and adapted some of the traditions of the Pan-Asiatic Army. So much so that Kapitan bin Sabtu felt comfortable enough to call them anak-anak lelaki saya, or "my sons".

In accordance to army tradition, the Kapitan inspected the troops, almost as if he were blessing them with determination for the mobilization to follow. The HDLF had received such a blessing beforehand, and at this point, knew the responses expected of them.

The Kapitan, with his badges gleaming under the tropic sun, shouted with full-force in front of the 10-column company: "Tóng zhì men hao!" (Greetings, Comrades!)

"Shou zhang hao!" (Greetings, Leader!), replied the HDLF with equal rigor.

"Tóng zhì men xīn kule." (Comrades, you have worked hard.), soothingly stated bin Sabtu.

"Wèi rén mín fú wù!" (Serving the People, Sir!), remarked the troops.

With the extent of their Mandarin exhausted, the workers' army marched alongside their fluttering flags Westward to make the long travel to Mulayam Pathar Ridge aboard stolen Jaraguptan coast guard convoys. They would be the first to make it to Prakaran, scouting the large ravine, with the rest of the contingent trailing behind them. Sarai Simamora, a Lieutenant in bin Sabtu's contingent, left her squad to join the HDLF. Her delineation ensured smooth communication between the bulk of the Marines and their "adopted" HDLF militia. She did not lead the navigation effort, as most Babaylan usually did. Veterans in the HDLF company, who had been home to the jungles and had derived their drinking-water from the great river for decades, knew the quickest and most inconspicuous routes towards where they were told to go. The long sail to Prakaran had begun.

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Datu Abner Berampu poses by a smuggled Pan-Asiatic flag on the river to Prakaran.*

Before the Battle of Mulayam Pathar Ridge

---

Squad A arrived a little earlier than the other half of the contingent. Choppy waters and a gradually-lowering tide inconvenienced the transportation of supplies to Gahana. Nevertheless, having delivered the package, Squad B had finally caught-up with the timetable. The battle-hardened Asians prepared for the voyage to Prakaran, almost as anxious as the youngest of the HDLF.

Datu Berampu and Ho embraced warmly at the first sight of each other. Operations in Jaragupta were extremely straining on their cognitive health, and they could not afford to see each other on casual occasion as to prevent suspicion. Despite everything, the Nusantara Marines were encouraged to befriend each other, as it was this fire-forged friendship which decided the fate of battles. Generals' tactics may direct the courses of wars, but it was the gumption and drive of each man that ascertained victory or defeat. It was this unspoken accord that consolidated the survival of the unit: no man or woman was to ever be left behind.

Three medium-sized fishing vessels carried the 39-strong army Westward, to Prakaran. The HDLF they had trained was out of sight, far ahead of everyone else, but remained a constant anxiety of the Pan-Asiatic contingent's leaders. The misty river provided great adversary to the soldiers sneaking their way into Prakaran. Their GPS became useless in the lack of landmarks on the sail to the battlefield. As the sun fell on the archipelago, the blurry route devolved into a blind one. The situation went from bad to worse.

Tourist cruisers would have probably arrived faster than a clandestine foreign army hiding from authorities. Ever so often, the contingent had to evade contact with the local coast guard by coming to a complete stop. The HDLF convoy ahead of them, through the radio they kept handy, warned them of potential dangers passing their way as best they could. Alongside maritime patrol boats there also was the threat of being discovered by an eyewitness not necessarily sympathetic to the Communist movement. Everything was coordinated.

Almost miraculously, the PASAF and HDLF made it to the end of the line. The blossoming flowers of the Prakaran countryside mixed with the scent of wet grass tainted with mud became a distinct smell to the workers and soldiers of the People's armies. They marched silently into the night, meeting with the forward ambush group in the Danjarit Mountains, organized by Comrade Kamano and the Cardwidthian-trained HDLF faction to lay-down deadly traps and defenses.

This image is highly classified, and was taken only for posterity. It will only be released to the media with the approval of the PAFNA-OSM, perhaps months or even years after the crisis in Jaragupta has ended.

[Pan-Asiatic States]

The Battle of Mulayam Pathar Ridge, (Part Four)
Danjarit Mountains, South Central Jaragupta
Weapons Hot!

---

The Pan-Asiatic soldiers provided Heavy Machine Gun support in the form of the "old reliable" ZMG75 Indigenous Mounted Machine Gun, whose engineering was first purposed for the Soviet Red Army's open-battlefield encounters with the Imperial Japanese Army in Siberia circa 1975 (hence the 75 designation). Mortar troops also hid in the underbrush of the pathway, wielding the mighty ZIM56 Indigenous Infantry Mortar, an advanced bootleg of the Imperial Japanese Type 94 90 mm infantry mortar. Accompanying both the rear and the front were the Babaylan, signalling where to fire and how much bombardment was required. Their yellow caps made them prone to sniper fire, but it also made them easier to spot for boots-on-the-ground commanders in need of immediate fire support.

But what separated those support units, who were all too vulnerable to small-arms fire, from the enemy, were the men and women with rifles strapped across their left-and-right shoulders: those berserk frontliners with bravery in their hearts and hatred in their eyes, a raw energy that emerged from the barrel. Scattered per squad were members of the Nusantara Marines, and even the lowest of rank were commanding the HDLF. Caution was highly advised for them, as the death of any Pan-Asiatic soldier in an unsanctioned operation would be heartily denied by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Their bodies may not even come back home. Their loved ones would never even know the circumstances of their death.

Despite this, Datu Abner Berambu recklessly fought alongside his own troops and the HDLF, wielding a KN-3 Light Machine Gun; aggressively flanking mercenaries who were out in the open and providing suppressing fire for his indigenous comrades. Like the Cardwidthian operatives, he and his men adapted the tactic of short, controlled bursts. In the chaos of battle, it was he who had the calmest nerve who survived. Every bullet counted, even for Machine Gun operators like the Datu.

The mercenaries began to reciprocate the machine gun fire emanating from the Communists with grenades and rifle-suppression, conducting themselves in a professional manner, even whilst their officers were being cut-down with every wave of rebel fire. The Pradhaan and Suraksha HDLF Groups were not as well-equipped as their foe, and, even despite their intense training, were still unable to pick their cover as wisely as the Nusantara Marines. USGSC high-caliber guns tore through the thin logs and fig trees the rebels sought cover from, piercing into the ribs of the militiamen.

Datu Ho signaled his men to retreat to higher cover. Datu Berampu saw Datu Ho's units evacuating their position, and covered the retreat. The Nusantara Marines jumped into their secondary positions; makeshift trenches in and around the ridge. Datu Ho took two squads of the HDLF and three of his own men, including Babaylan Kemuning binti Perwira, to go even higher; positioning themselves by a narrow cliff-side to see the totality of the battlefield. Babaylan binti Perwira could spot the hostiles for Datu Berampu, who would attack the enemy accordingly.

Datu Ho and his HDLF militiamen organized themselves into firing their service rifles in select fire mode, raining down a volley of precise rifle-fire. Shrouded by the darkness of the night, their objective was partly to intimidate the mercenaries into thinking there were more insurgents than there actually were.

A few moments later, Kapitan Mulia bin Sabtu received orders to sneak a detachment, alongside a handful of Nusantara Marines, beneath the ridge in an attempt to scout more flanking positions. With smoke and the anarchy of battle to cover their approach, they displaced themselves within bayonet's reach of the foe. The Kapitan drew his officer's jian in one hand, and carried a Type 8 Revolver in the other. All of the men held their breath. They awaited for reinforcements, as well as the signal to leap out of their position and slit the throats of their enemies.

[Port Ember]

Rydell Class Cargo Ship - SS Madrid

Captain Crusuo was standing right behind the ship's navigator at the radar screen, clearly tensed. The fact that the radar should have already picked up the Honsho by now weighed heavilly on his mind. If the leaked co-ordinates was wrong and his prize were not where he was led to believe, he would be forced to sail up and down the ocean in search for her, which would look obviously suspicious and mess around with his carefull and detailed plans, putting his entire fleet at risk. The Captain was visibly sweating due to all the internal turmoil building up inside of him.

Luckily for the Captain, his stare-down with the radar screen paid off, as a sudden blip appeared on screen, at the exact co-ordinates which was given to him. Seconds after the blip appeared, the entire crew on the bridge celebrated, shouting out various cheers and proceeded to high-five each other.

The Captain ordered the helmsman to correct the ship's path, to steer them directly towards the blip. He quickly ensured that the vessel's radio's were on and switched to their highest volume setting. He lit a fat rum imfused cigar, before thinking out loud "And now we wait.."

---

Elsewhere in International Waters

Below the horizon, sailing softly behind the SS Madrid was the six Jolly Roger Class Missile Boats under command of the Captain Crusuo. These small killers maintained radio silence, whilst not using any radar, sonar or transmitters, sailing slowly.. Therefore they were invisible to any radar or sonar looking for them. They were called the Ghost Squad, according to the typical dry pirate humor. They only awaited their time and orders before they could gain their glory and wealth, slowly creeping towards their given co-ordinates.

[Pan-Asiatic States]

P.A.S Type V-322E Jurōjin-Class Aircraft Carrier Honshu - Bridge
International Waters

---

"Kapitana, we're picking up strange signals in and around the proximity of our vessel.", said a young Chinese officer to his superior.

Kapitana, or Miss-Captain, Naing Yadanar, was a middle-aged woman of dark skin complexion; her somewhat British accent and British pronunciation of certain words reflected that she hailed from the Burmese Soviet Socialist Republic. She was the Naval commander of the Honshu, and she had been so since '91: she had commanded the mighty ship through the darkest of nights and the harshest of days, through mire and stream, from Africa to the Middle-East. But the tiny blips appearing and disappearing on the radar of her ship's interior sent shivers down her spine nonetheless; every battle could be the ship's last and this was perhaps the Honshu's most dangerous endeavor yet.

"Kapitana, it could just be solar interference.", retorted one of the other Chinese officers within her proximity.

"No," replied the Captain.

"That's them."

Naing's gut-feeling drove her to send distress signals on both the ISVC and PASAF channels, calling for potential Maritime support of any kind. With most of the People's Maritime Army deployed elsewhere, such as in Malta or Rapture or in the Caribbean in line with Operation Sea Gypsy, it was likely for the PASAF not to return the call. The ISVC's fleet was nearly all she could hope for in terms of reinforcement.

The Honshu had a particularly vulnerable hull, architectural errors that dated back to its service in the Third Pacific War that were due for revision, but had always been at the bottom of the list. In short, the Honshu wasn't the best the Pan-Asiatic States had to offer, but its crew had to make do with what they had.

On board the Honshu was entire Air Squadron of the People's Air Force, defensive detachments of the reconnaissance wing which had scouted for the ISVC during the initial phases of the operation. The aircraft carrier immediately maneuvered itself away from Jaragupta's maritime border, and signaled its Airmen to assume battle-stations. Naval bombers were prepped for combat, and depth charges were primed for release. The Oriental Standard on each plane seemed to glitter in the moonlight.

[Port Ember]

Rydell Class Cargo Ship - SS Madrid

A violent but muffled curse word escaped from the lips of Captain Crusuo when the navigator informed him that he has just observed the on-screen blip starting to move away from its original position. He was certain they knew something now, or they are just playing things suspiciously safe. He knew he could not now change his vessel's bearing without alerting suspicion - he was masquarading as a innocent trade vessel after all. He looked at his watch, quickly making a rough calculation regarding the position of his Ghost Squad.

The entire bridge was filled with a earie silince while the captain ran through his mental calculations. Captain Crusuo suddenly broke the silence as he turned to face his crew, using his deep authoritive voice he has learned in his naval past "Asian chickens are running. Don't worry lads - the Black will be raised today still!". The captain grabbed the radio handset and broadcasted over all open channels:

"Unknown vessel located on my north eastern bearing, traveling north east, this is El Kapitan Alveréz, Master of the SS Madrid - we are in distress - I say again, We are in distress!! Please respond!" The captain used his best attempt to mimmick a spanish accent as he spoke on the radio, which was not difficult, as all Port Emberians spoke Esperanto from birth, which was remarkably simmilar to spanish.

[Pan-Asiatic States]

P.A.S Type V-322E Jurōjin-Class Aircraft Carrier Honshu

---

The Honshu was now at its maximum velocity, steering Southeast of the Jaraguptan archipelago, hoping to buy more time for the Airmen to organize themselves. Nevertheless, they could not fire upon the enemy unless they fired first - partly because the Kapitana knew little about the enemy's displacement, but primarily because they did not want to cause an international incident.

The Honshu signaled a warning that they would open-fire if the alien vessel got too close, a message transmitted via Morse Code and Bridge-light. Under the black July sky, such a message could be seen from miles away.

[Port Ember]

Rydell Class Cargo Ship - SS Madrid

What felt like seconds after the Captain broadcasted, the prize responded with a stern warning, both in morse code and with a Bridge-light. The Captain bust into laughter and mumbled something that sounded like "Got ya!"

The prize has just given her exact coordinated position away, both by breaking radio silence and transmitting, and with a literal beacon of light. "Once more for good luck.."

As the captain reached for the radio, the navigator announced in an excited tone "Captain, Prize has altered her bearing, steaming hard south east." The captain could not be more pleased. They were sailing closer towards his hidden Ghost Squad..

The captain once more grabbed the radio handset and transmitted on all open channels. ""Unknown vessel located on my north eastern bearing, traveling south east, this is El Kapitan Alveréz, Master of the SS Madrid, a civilian merchant vessel - we are in distress - I say again, We are in distress!! Please respond! Please we mean no harm - we are in distress!!"

[Gylias]

Gahana, Jaragupta
Morning Before the Protests

Nírol found themself running out of sleep quite early in the morning. It'd been easy to fall asleep last night, given the exhaustion after another day's worth of political work, but they found themselves surprised to have woken up before the others.

Being unable to go back to sleep, Nírol decided to get out of the bunk and enjoy a quiet moment before preparing breakfast. They went to the window of their hut and leaned against the pane, looking at the morning twilight. The sky was deep red, predicting the sunrise, and the clouds were lit from underneath with a reddish hue. Nírol could see the ocean in the distance and hear some of it, since it was too early for anyone else to be around making noise to obscure it.

When we're done here, I'm gonna challenge the others to a swimming contest, they said, while looking towards the ocean, and smiled.

It'd been a more than busy week — Carme and Demi were exhausted at the end of the previous day, and Aruna resorted to skinny-dipping in the morning to invigorate herself in the absence of other stimulants. The Gylians only got as much information as relevant to their work, to not jeopardise ISVC operations in case they were caught by the authorities. But it was enough to piece together a picture that the big day was coming. The HDLF had already begun fighting in Mulayam Pathar.

In a way it was more advantageous for them that their task was to forment unrest in Gahana. Being a smaller island in the Jaraguptan archipelago, especially with the ISVC and HDLF also conducting operations elsewhere, it was easier to fly under the radar, particularly since there wasn't as much armament having to come around.

Nírol made breakfast, and ate their portion while waiting for the others. Aruna was the next to wake up. "N...írol?", she mumbled as she properly opened her eyes.

Nírol smiled and waved, before handing her the plate. "Here you go, breakfast," they said quietly. "I'm thinking of making some tea. You want some?"

Aruna blinked blankly for a few seconds before what she heard registered. "Sure, it's worth a try." She wasn't really a tea drinker, but it beat risking the depletion of coffee supplies. "What time is it..."

She looked at the digital clock next to the bunk. "Oh, we're still early." She yawned. "We'll need it too, it's Ω Day today."

"Athena help us," Nírol replied with a nod. "I still can't get used to the idea that we're possibly asking some people to be... arrested and beaten up and... fuck knows what else..."

Nírol handled the work of agitating on Gahana mainly by reminding themselves the Jaraguptan authorities were evil and deserved the worst that could happen to them. They usually tried to even avoid using terms like "arrest" or "police" because the gulf between the Gylian Police and the Jaraguptan ones made them sick.

Aruna hadn't noticed Nírol trailing off because she also took a moment to enjoy the view out the window. "Look, don't beat yourself up about it...", she replied, in a reassuring tone. "Nobody's ever liberated themselves through politeness. We are helping a revolution after all."

"I know."

"We can suggest what to do and give them the tools necessary, but ultimately, they use them. It's their choice."

Carme and Demi happened to wake up nearly simultaneously.

"Hey Carme, Dem," Aruna said.

"Hey all," Nírol said. Their accent tended to make that greeting sound more like heiá than heió, but English was weird anyway.

The four had breakfast together and talked — about things, about other things, about what was planned today.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

ISC Congressional Building
Bratislava, Ressia

Henry Perkins enjoyed his new office, a large, rather ornate room in the Congress Building in Bratislava. He had occupied it for only a couple of weeks and it already felt like home. The long nights he had spent there only added to that feeling. When he arrived, there had been little trace of its former occupant, a fellow named Kopsov Akession who had resigned from the post of Commissar of Revolutionary Action rather mysteriously. Though Perkins himself did not know Akession, he could suspect why he had stood down, as Frozen Forest had recently undergone a transition to full monarchical rule.

The former Major General moved some documents aside and checked his watch. Though an organised man, the sudden injection of work into his schedule had proven a sharp kick for Perkins. All the same, he was steadily reorganising and, as the minute hand of his watch showed half an hour, he opened his laptop and opened a conference calling application, the call was fully scheduled and he clicked the button to begin. The call would go through to General Joffard Tozimbga and Colonel Tennison Fodenka, the two officers which Perkins truly relied on. The Frankenlischian adjusted his khaki tie, straightened out his Vionnan Red Army style tunic and spoke up as the other two joined the call, “Good day, comrades. How do you fare? We have some rather important affairs to get in order.”

Kavunga Multi-Force Base
Markville, North Cardwith Island

General Joffard Tozimbga had toured the units preparing for action after he had called for a pre-mobe, in anticipation of the new Commissar’s orders. They were at a point where if word came down to stand down, they could do so, but it wasn’t really expected as the Central Committee in Bratislava had agreed some months ago that they would trust the judgement of the ISVC leadership about if and when an escalation was necessary.The ground, armored and air units across Kavunga preparing were predominantly Cardwithian for the moment, but as Kavunga was the closest staging base to Jaragupta for the ISVC, other international units were starting to arrive. Some distinctly un-Cardwithian faces could be seen traversing the base.

There would be a much more multinational representation as the days progressed. Overflow was expected to go to Tarpon Bay once Kavunga reached capacity. Ships gathered off the coast of both harbors, and the Cardwithian sub fleet and air force were working overtime to provide security for the ISVC warship and transport boats arriving. Across the Wishton Sea and far to the East, more ISVC troops were gathering in the Pan-Asiatic States. Fleets would stream in from both sides, once they were ready..

Tozimbga arrived in the operations center for the base, conducted there by MUV. He quickly rushed towards his office, glancing again at his watch as the time approached. Aides had already set up his computer and gotten the secure conferencing app ready to only await his click.
A mug of tea was shoved into his hand by one. He sat down, craned his neck and settled in to the chair, then he leaned over and clicked. Within seconds, he heard Perkins greeting.

Temporary CAIF-ISVC HQ
Mehatar, Jaragupta

Colonel Fodenka sat down on a crate in a dirty, crumbling shack, directed by one of the Commonwealther cyber experts assigned to the HQ on what to do next. Their situation was ever changing and precarious as the government and their allies actively hunted them down while they tried to command area forces joining the brewing storm in the Danjarit mountains. Parts of the Mosaic Network were being compromised as they sacrificed security for speed, but it couldn’t be helped as victory to the near north was more crucial than communications lines that could be replaced.

One of the assets sacrificed was the previous HQ, which was quite comfortable in comparison to the current accommodations. Another would be the very laptop that the Colonel had been motioned to use, it’s signature could lead the enemy right on top of them if used again after this instance. He clicked in and heard the new Commissar’s voice. He had only heard of the change in regime from Akession to Perkins within the last couple days. He knew nothing about the new man, but being guarded might not be the best strategy now, when the future conduct of the war was more important than personal dynamics.
“Hello. I can hear you and have visual. A pleasure to finally meet you, Commissar, as close to as in person as we can manage right now.”

---

The General also spoke,
“I am also online and my connection seems good with both of you. Good to see you again, Tennison. Commissar Perkins, it is an honor. I am well today. Colonel, perhaps you could brief in the Commissar, and keep it brief, to use the word with another meaning…”

Colonel Fodenka nodded.
“Of course, General. Commissar, it is also an honor to finally get a chance to speak with you. As we speak, my headquarters is on the move. We are under threat of discovery. There was, what was originally a small unit ambush, turning into a major battle in the mountains to the north. Previous to that, we have had some other successful ambushes of government troops and gendarmes in various parts of the country. We had some troubles just after the mercenaries arrived as it improved monarchist operations, but we have been able to bounce back.

Our propaganda, thanks to our Pan-Asian comrades, has made the most of our victories, and even defeats, such as the destruction of a HDLF cell here in Mehatar; twisting it to show the brutal inhumanity of the mercenary forces, killing children and such. We have a few operations planned to put things to the next level and hopefully trigger the proletariat to back our revolution. We are hoping to gain permanent territory that we can hold soon enough, and we are in desperate need of more arms and reinforcements in order to guarantee we can do that.”

Tozimbga stroked his chin, holding back his thoughts until the Commissar commented. Tennison Fodenka had certainly followed through on keeping it brief and to the point.

“Affairs, then, are stable… Still, from what I hear, we’re not exceeding ourselves in Jaragupta.” Perkins seemed skeptical but he was nothing if not tenacious and affirmed his position clearly, “Comrades, I will not abandon Jaragupta. The country is small but our victory would still prove our worth and be a great embarrassment to those mercenary cutthroats. I trust in your skills and the skills of our other officers to manage things on the ground and I will weigh in where I can. However, an unfortunate tenet of my new position is that I have to look at the bigger picture too. This conflict will prove ourselves to the world, show what we can do and how we can and will spread world socialism until every oppressed worker is singing the Internationale.” He spoke with a soft, lower-class accent and his face was kindly. Perkins paused to sip a mug of lukewarm tea.

“But enough of said talk. There are things more relevant to you. I have studied what information is available to me and I find our performance thus far unenergetic. With the advisory and material support we are providing them, the HDLF will surely prove useful allies but they need more than just arms and words of wisdom. Comrades, I believe that the time is soon coming to begin deployment of more conventional forces to support our brothers in Jaragupta. I need to hear your opinions on such a decision and, more importantly, I have to know if the island of Gahana will be as suitable a staging point as I believe it may be.” He finished his mug, the white ceramic was printed with the likeness of Marshal Howell, the Vionna-Frankenlischian socialist leader.
“I need to know what operations we have planned. Not much information gets to me here due to the need for secrecy. Just the basics will do, but I have to be kept better informed. I hate to say it but I simply can’t plead your case at the Congress, or in the Central Committee if I’m not aware of the situation. I’d be willing to divert reserve funding to sorting out this communication issue, we’ll need to be organised, after all, for when the main deployment arrives.”

Both Tozimbga and Fodenka were heartened by the new Commissar’s words. They had often felt that Akession, the former Commissar in the position, had not only been ineffectual, but was disinterested in their input and the reports of operations they needed to convey. General Tozimbga said as much,
“It is good to know that you are very attuned to the needs of the ISVC forces deployed to Jaragupta, and also open to hearing from us on what would best serve the purposes of our mission. I understand that you have to report on the political situation and we will do our best to keep you abreast in regards to that situation. I will again defer to Tenni...er, Colonel Fodenka, as to what the specific situation is on the ground and the planned operations.”

Fodenka took his cue.
“Well, the situation is as stated before, positive, but tenuous. We can’t ride this high note for long. The CAIF has done its work and now, we believe, it’s time for the next big step. It’s my understanding that the Pan-Asians are going to drop off arms to Gahana. That needs to happen like...yesterday. Gahana can fall, but it will devastate the HDLF cell there in the process, unless we are extremely lucky. If it falls, the timing needs to be perfect. We need ISVC airlifts and landings immediately to hold the island. There are small strips at both Gahana City and Relu. A small mountain separates the two cities on opposite coasts, so that complicates things that there’s no direct route. We can close off one of the main roads in Gahana City, the provincial capital, and lay down patches to make it fighter capable. We will need naval support as well...If we can’t get our forces there in time to take advantage of the hole, it will all be for naught. Royal government and mercenary forces will be rushed in to quell the local uprising and that will be that.
We are also looking at drawing in some of their reinforcements to planned decoy actions in Mehatar and Suraksha. If they pull forces down from the north, that will be our opening to use Gahana as a bridgehead to then jump to one of the northern cities - Nartaki or Tuzarkha. We won’t have the support of the Tamar locals, but we won’t need it with so little military resistance.
The Riysians might respond, or one other of the Rajah’s allies, but by then they should be too late. Again, we will need the naval support to hold off Royal allies, direct in air and missile strikes and.escort transports.”

Tozimbga cut in.
“Commissar, I have already begun to mobilize our ISVC contributors, and some of them are arriving here in North Cardwith. Without your official approval, we cannot act and they will head back home. They can’t wait in limbo, sucking up the operating budget.”

Perkins was nodding, another gulp of tea went down and he seemed to be considering his options. “Very well, comrade, I will provide that approval as soon as I can. Is the date set for the Gahana uprising or can more time be given to organise supporting landings? I suppose the airlifts can be set up easily enough, provided the airstrips are taken.” Perkins had never been a frontline soldier, he was first an engineer and then a logistician, his business was supplies, organisation and engineering but he had enjoyed enough free time and appropriate training during his military career to amass an acceptable degree of competency in tactical and strategic matters. “Landings and naval support may be harder to mobilise, in my experience, nations are not quite so fond of giving up their ships… Still, I’m sure it’ll be possible. Assuming we are victorious in Gahana, what window of time would you give these landings? Also, will you need anything particular in the coming days, anything I can scavenge for you?”

Fodenka simply said, “Arms. We always smuggled our in on fishing trawlers and cargo ships during our independence struggle, and also interventions we were involved in. You have to assume you will lose a certain amount that will be seized.”

“Things are moving quite quickly. We could maybe push it out to a week, which would give enough time for our ships to set out and get in distance for support. Getting through their pickets and breaking through their light blockade to reach the Honshu, that...might be trickier. Several factors are in play here that rely on each other: The arms shipment to Gahana; more to the main groups in the southern cities; the uprising in Gahana; decoy actions on the main island; the enemy not attacking the Honshu out of frustration; the HNLA remaining quiet; or at least not fighting for the government; no more Royal allies showing up...The more we wait, the more time these issues can become reality and the harder our job becomes. Those are my concerns and why I’d like to put the Gahana landings, the resupply and reinforcement into motion as soon as we can.”

“A week, fine.” Perkins nodded, resigned to it. “‘As for ships, I’ll ask around but I can’t promise anything huge. There are six hundred men from my own party that are preparing as we speak, the WSP owns a little shipping company, it's useful for a bit of subversive action. There’s an old collier that we’ve converted into a troop transport. There’s a few three-inch guns on it but besides that, there’s no ships I can provide personally. I will secure what I can from the other nations but it probably won’t be much at such short notice.” Perkins scribbled some notes down on a notepad and stroked his hair back, presumably in thought. “Comrades, I have a busy schedule, I will do what I can for you. If there’s anything else that needs saying, best do it now…”

“I think we’re set then.” Colonel Fodenka said. “We have a lot of preparation to do and some actions taking place now, so I need to get back to it.”

General Tozimbga also spoke, “I have been working on securing more ships, aircraft and ground troops from ISVC contributor nations, as well as my own government. I think we’ll get enough, to start anyway. We are also in the middle of the changeover for new deployed security units for the Congressional campus in Bratislava, so it’s a bit complex at the moment, but...We’ll make it happen, Commissar. The units are there, they just need to be sent in the right directions.”

After Fodenka cut his link, The Commissar and General wrapped it up with a few more minor details of ISVC business, then said their goodbyes, planning to connect again soon within the week.

---

Rujinga, Gahana, Jaragupta

Martin Evans sat alone in a plastic lawn chair, staring into the water with an uncharacteristic frown. He held a can of foreign beer and sipped at it absent-mindedly, it wasn’t very good but the climate made Evans thirsty and he didn’t much trust the water in these places. Evans’ officers were busy with duties elsewhere, some planning for the operation, others training the local fighters. Major Saunders was doing both, preparing his assault group with the Cardwithian, Fenton.

One thing that Evans found rather interesting was that he wasn’t tired, despite the stress and short rests of the last days. Perhaps his excitement or enthusiasm for the cause was plucking him up, perhaps he was just too used to the tedious bureaucracy of planning operations. He had begun thinking of Jessica more and more recently, remembering her face and the sixteen happy years of marriage saddened him to no end and he cursed God daily for taking her away from him so early. Nonetheless, he was ashamed in his realisation that he still felt desire after all that. He had not known a woman in five years, not since they had buried his Jess in the churchyard of St Aethelyarth, her hometown.

Yet more and more he found himself distracted by the bodies of the local women, Martin was not doing bad, per se, especially for his age. Drink had caught up to him a little where his gut was concerned and his face was furrowed a tad but the lack of a decent barbers had thickened his hair to the point of normality and he felt stronger than ever with all the hard work of his deployment. He even seemed to possess that aristocratic handsomeness that girls back in Vionna liked older men for. With a strong swig of his drink, Martin Evans pushed such self-satisfying thoughts out of his head, reminding himself that he was past sixty and a widower to boot, a widower with no prospects other than a country home, a decent pension and an illegal rebellion to fight for. “Whirlwinds of danger are racing around us…” He began to sing quietly to himself, remembering his prime days.

Yamala snuck up on Martin, risking a very adverse reaction, but not caring as this was too rich an opportunity to pass up. She was stealthy when she wanted to be, with years of PAST training and experience behind her.
She had gotten as close as she could without breaking cover, when she finally stepped out into the open, yelling at the same time.
“Hey old man! Quit your whining and put some fire in that dragging ass!!”
She had no idea how Vionnan drill instructors sounded, but figured that must be a close approximation.

Evans somehow avoided jumping out of his skin and hid the look of terrorised surprise on his face with a deep chuckle. "Not bad, a bit too light on the profanities though and you're far prettier than any of my Sergeants ever were." Martin critiqued with a smile, confused by his sudden cheerfulness. "Beer?" He offered, reaching into a basket by his chair and holding a can out for his comrade.

Yamala smiled and winked. It didn’t get past her that he had indirectly called her pretty. She never usually worried about her looks when it came to being on mission, but suddenly, she was conscious of her rat’s nest of hair. She absently combed at it with her fingers as she reached out her other hand to take the offered beer.
She cracked the can open, even though it was just mildly close to cool.
“Thanks. So...I was hoping we could talk. I hate to break up your brooding, but this couldn’t wait.”

"Aww, I'm not brooding," Martin replied, feigning hurt, "just remembering other times. Better times, perhaps." He came, steadily to his feet, wary not to damage the flimsy chair by leaning on it. "Shall we, then?" He asked, holding his free arm to the side to suggest a walk.

“Sure.” She walked side by side with him, her inner sense of urgency warring with the comfort of this walk, one the two of them had enjoyed many previous evenings before. There were few better times she could recall than walks like this now. She waited a couple more steps before starting in.
“We got word through the Mosaic Network. The time table moved up. We have to act a week after tomorrow. When everyone comes back from training tonight, we will need to spread the word. We will need every minute to prepare, even though this is what we have been preparing for all along.”

In an instant, Evans' smile was wiped away to a countenance of worry. "That's not good…" He muttered plainly, "Not with this lot the way they are." He swallowed anxiously and asked, "Do we have the weapons at least, for the support group? How are our stocks of explosives? Oh, Christ, I had a stock of older helmets coming in four days, most of the lads will miss out. What're we to do?" He pondered aloud, his voice quiet and scratching. Evans rarely panicked, it would be dishonest the say he was panicking now but he could not deny feeling constrained by a hundred bubbling anxieties. "Heavens above why the change now?" He wondered, "and on my operation!" He exclaimed with a greater degree of frustration.

“Helmets!?! Really? Look...Martin, we hope to get the shipment of arms on shore within the next couple nights. Two of my PAST people are always taking shifts waiting at the rendezvous, plus some trusted locals at the other locations. I believe it’s coming from the East, but it might be arriving from the main island side, if they can’t break the blockade. If not either, we go with what we have. My people have improvised enough explosives, it’s...it’s better than nothing. The garrison has to fall. I don’t know why, but it has to happen sooner than later. It has to happen now.”

Martin refused to remember the last time he had been unprepared for an engagement, he had blocked his memories of the Battle of Toulogne out and bundled them at the bottom of his campaign trunk. His weeks of captivity were a secret between him and Jessica and the dead did not betray secrets. "It has to happen now…" He repeated incredulously. "I'm a soldier, I do my duty, fine. These men are not soldiers they're peasants playing at war, another four weeks would be all we need." Evans nodded, "I'll do as they say…" He acquiesced. "An attack without those weapons would be foolhardy but if that is what is required of us by the powers that be then… So be it." He looked down at his feet, "What will it matter, anyway. Most of my boys will die even if we win…"

“I have conveyed this back. Mehatar is not unaware, nor unfeeling towards our circumstances. However, they must feel that the sacrifice is worth it. Or that’s coming straight from Bratislava. Who am I to question? Who are you?”
She stopped to face him, her voice rising and her brows furrowing.
“You really think that three or four weeks would make a difference, Martin? These boys are going into the grinder, no matter what. They just have to take the gendarmes down with them at the same time. It’s that stark and that cold, yes. It’s war and a lot of blood is about to be spilled. Possibly yours, mine, and every one of our people, too. Hell! Even most of the Gylians…” She pointed over towards their hut, “...stand a good chance of having their heads cracked open by riot police. Maybe it’s been too long living the comfy, retired life for you and your mates to remember how real things can get?”

That came as a shock. Evans seemed to reel mentally from the accusation and his mouth flapped like a dying fish as he struggled to respond. He knew, in that moment, that she was right. Country home life back in Frankenlisch had softened him. Watching the occasional war film and secretly wearing his Red Army uniform had not kept him in any way prepared. Even the weekly meetups for his Veteran’s Association where they toasted the return of Socialism and the memory of Comrade Howell had romanticised his bitter memories. Still, he did not cry but rather admitted it. “You’re… Right…” The words came out as if they were a surprise, even to Evans himself, “I was so convinced it was all over. All of the killing, even when I found my calling here, I told myself that just another few weeks of training and my boys will pull through.” Evans removed his old service cap and looked at his soft, old hands. “After Tillmaine, Martineux, Nieuwesel and Toul-” He paused, refusing to think about his greatest shame. “I found consolation in the knowledge that my men died for a cause, a cause greater than any of us… Perhaps I have forgotten that…” Up came his hand and placed the hat neatly back on his head, he straightened himself out, “One week then.” He agreed with a stiff nod and a concluded expression, “To do. To die. As they say in the IVA…”

Evans had come around. It was harsh and of all people right now, he was not one Yamala wished to hurt emotionally in such a way, but it had to be done. They had to steel themselves for what was about to come. She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry…”

One other thing she knew that he didn’t - they had requested more information on which roads were the smoothest and how long the runways were at the airfield in Gahana City. They wanted updates on all the beach surveys they had done weeks previously. For instance, which of the beaches on the eastern side could hold the most troops at one time. Gahana just might be the beach head, then bridge head, for the ISVC invasion. She didn’t tell him because one, it might give a false sense of coming salvation, and two, security as always. The less he knew if captured, the better.

One thing they both knew, their time on both this giant rock and this mortal coil could be measured at 2+ days, not even guaranteed. If not now, when? She put down her half finished beer on a crate outside a hut, then wrapped her other arm around Martin. She brought her face in close to his and whispered,
“We only, for sure, have the next few nights to ourselves...or for each other. I know of an available empty hut we only use for training during the day” She caressed her hands downward. “Let’s make the most of this time we have, Martin. Shall we?”

Martin Evans’ eyes were glistening and his breath caught as his comrade drew near. He had always found Yamala attractive but had never considered he’d be here. He recognised her occasional flirting, of course, and sometimes responded in kind as friends did and, even though he had spent his morning brooding in recollection of his deceased wife, Evans found himself excited almost beyond words. He checked his watch and feigned consideration before raising a bushy eyebrow and responding, with a smile and a fake voice of disinterest, “Yeah, all right…” He took her hands in his and prompted, “Lead on, Macduff.”

She laughed at the awkwardness and took his hand,
“That smooth charm...You must have gotten all the ladies back in your day with such lines.”
They headed further off to the outskirts of the village in the faint moonlight.

---

Rujinga, Gahana, Jaragupta

Yamala felt quite refreshed the next morning after her tryst with Martin Evans, but she had other plans for the day, some that she couldn't even share with Martin. She had freshened up a bit at the hut she shared with the rest of the PAST. They were already preparing to head out to continue training with the local cell.
"Giorgio and Batina, I need you to hang back a few moments."

They looked at each other, then waited patiently as the rest of the Cardwithians filed out. Yamala studied them. Both were young, just entering their teens during the independence struggle. They were dedicated PAST members and had been well trained. They were excellent shooters. Unless you counted hunting down Hutanian loyal officials in Nesselberg or ferreting out suspected HSA agents, this was their first big overseas mission, like many of their comrades. Batina still had a youthful, cherubic face with dimpled cheeks. Giorgio was doing his best to grow out whatever facial hair would break the surface of a lean face.

None of their exiting comrades carried visible weapons, although all were packing pistols and compact sub machine guns. Should they be caught out in the open by enemy satellite or drone, it would definitely blow their cover quicker to be toting assault rifles around the village. The ARs were out in the bush waiting for them to start the day’s training.

Yamala glanced out the windows.
“Now then. This is strictly between us. All our lives depend on it. You are not going to participate in the garrison attack…”

Giorgio instantly protested, his face contorting with frustration.
“What?! I will not leave my comrades to face that alone.”

Batina kept a blank face.
“What did we do wrong, comrade?”

“Calm yourselves. You did nothing wrong. I have other plans for you. I’m going to have you shadow the protesters.”

“We’re going to help the Gylians?”

“Just. Listen. You are not helping the Gylians...directly. They are not to know of your presence. However, if your action can help them avoid disaster, so much the better. You need to scout out positions in the highest buildings in the City, starting today. Gaining access, moving vantage points quickly...We need multiple overwatch points along the protest route, even if they get funnelled off into side streets, you need to be ready for that.”

“I don’t quite understand, Comrade Leader.”

“If they get in a bind, you need to help relieve the pressure. Take out the opposition. If it looks like they won’t escape, no matter what you do...You need to eliminate them. They know too much. They can’t fall into enemy hands.”

The two younger People’s Action Strike Team members eyes widened at this mission, but they wisely kept their mouths shut.

“Like I said, the Gylians absolutely must not know of your mission or your…’angelic hovering presence’. I need you both to select one HDLF fighter each, the best from those you have been training on marksmanship. They will be your backup and spotters. They don’t need to know the exact parameters of the mission until it’s go time. Meanwhile, I will fend off the Brigadier’s (Evans’) inquiries about pulling some of his best fighters from the gendarmerie garrison attack. Scout out today, be ready tonight as the shipment is expected in. There will be sniper rifles in the shipment. You will have tomorrow to do more scouting, then by tomorrow evening, I expect to hear your operational plan. Understood?”

“Yes, Comrade Leader!” They both responded simultaneously, but not loudly.

“Good. We have a lot more preparation and training to do and not enough hours. Make the most of it. Carry on, comrades.”
The same went for both Giorgio and Batina and their helpers as the Gylians. She would pull them aside separately later, giving them instructions to eliminate the other team if anything went south for them during the big day.

---

SE Coast of Gahana
Deserted Beach

That night, as promised, the expected shipment arrived. The beach had been under observation by the CAIF to spot enemy security. There wasn’t much and there were a lot of prime beaches for the gendarmes to cover. One patrol of gendarmes had driven by earlier in the day, lazily they had stopped, but only so that one of them could relieve themselves in a clump of trees. They hadn’t gone much past the road other than that, through the tree line to the sand below. Fenton, from the PAST, and 3 HDLF rebels had watched from the trees. Some hours had passed. The sun set and darkness set in.

At about half past midnight local time, some red filtered flashes in a pre-ordained code were transmitted from offshore. Likely they had hoods over the lenses to stop diffused light from being spotted kilometers past the beach. Fenton responded with the agreed response. He quickly risked the comms blackout to broadcast four clicks over a two way radio, to signal that the shipment was arriving. It would take a bit for their comrades to arrive, ISVC and HDLF.

Within 20 minutes, the low profile craft, covered in a black, rubbery absorbent material that would deflect most modern detection approached the shore. While the three HDLF fighters provided overwatch, Fenton ran down to meet the Pan-Asian crew. He gave the signal that all was still good and they weren’t under duress or being watched.
“We are very happy to see you, comrades.”

The lead Pan-Asian officer just nodded. Perhaps the coded responses were all he knew of English. That was fine. It wasn’t a task that needed much discussion.

The Pan-Asian marines were mostly silent as they unloaded the crates, wading through the surf. Some of the crates were rather long. Within a few more minutes, the rest of the shore team arrived, the PAST and Vionnans, as well as several trusted HDLF sympathizers and fighters. They had brought trucks. The crates were brought up the sandy slopes carefully and loaded up in the trucks while the Pan-Asian commander handed off a duffel bag containing some important ISVC orders, documents, and manuals to Fenton.
Again, he saluted and bowed, parting with one word. “Kam-a-rada.”

Within the hour of their arrival, the Pan-Asian boat had reversed out of the shallows and was heading back towards the Honshu.

Later, in a small town some km south of Gahana City, in the back area of a warehouse, the arms were unpacked by the Cardwithian, Vionnan and Hamikh fighters. Assault rifles, SMGs, and pistols, but also sniper rifles, anti-material/recoilless rifles, RPGs, AT launchers, and MANPADs, light mortars, heavier machine guns and explosives like shaped charges, anti-personnel mines and saboteur packets were brought out and readied for further transport. There were some other technical gadgets and goodies that might come in handy, like NVGs.

Giorgio and Batina, along with the two HDLF personnel they had selected, grabbed, not necessarily the best, but the 4 most portable sniper rifles that could be broken down into cases, along with other recon gear and explosives. They ignored the questions and sarcastic comments from their colleagues, disappearing into the night in their own vehicle.

The rest of the arms and explosives went to the gendarme outpost raiders, led by Yamala and Evans, and some would go into a reserve cache, hoping that there was an HDLF force left to use them after D-Day.

[Co-RP’d with the Cardwith Islands and the permission of Pan-Asiatic States]

[USG Security Corporation]

Battle of Mulayam Pathar (Part Five)
Danjarit Mountains, South Central Jaragupta

While a handful of USGSC contractors were felled in the first few minutes of the firefight, as well as over a dozen JRA soldiers, they were by no means falling in waves as some reports might have one believe. There were always a burst of casualties at the first couple minutes of an ambush, as the attackers had the element of surprise and the defenders were taken by shock and out from cover. Unlike the movies, most well trained forces won't stand still indefinitely to be hosed down. That casualty rate soon levels out, then drops off as the defenders snap into their ingrained training, rushing for cover and returning fire. Such was no different for the USG operators and their JRA allies.

Fighting their way through the ambush, they were able to hunker down and get some reasonable cover to fight back some meters off the trail from where the initial ambush was sprung. The armor issued to the JRA was not quite up to the standards that an elite private military force like the USG would issue, so the Jaraguptans were definitely suffering casualties at a faster rate.

Small arms and AR fire, while fierce, was not having as much of an affect as the volleys of RPGs, hand thrown grenades, light mortars and the handful of placed charges that hadn't yet been detonated. That heavy ordnance was whittling slowly away at the column, first with light to medium shrapnel wounds, then heavier wounds and lodged shrapnel that restricted movement or caused such severe pain that the inflicted soldier or operator couldn't function to defend themselves or their comrades. Then fatalities from near direct grenade or mortar hits that no armor could stop, or that final shrapnel piece that hit an artery or was just one too many. The so called 'death of a thousand cuts'. There were still also lucky hits from rifle and machine gun fire that landed at unarmored parts, even though few.

This was the current sitrep for Senior Sergeant Santos as he tried to keep the remainder of the patrol alive and fighting back. Basic battlefield first aid was administered and casualties were pulled to cover, but from there, the gravely to fatally wounded had to fend for themselves. It was all hands on deck for the remaining able bodied JRA soldiers and USG troopers It was about the time that they were running black on grenades, and very low on HMG ammo that the choppers and V-25 VTOL carrying their Varangian Guard relief broke the horizon and closed in on the heavily forested ridge they were penned on.

As the VG arrived from the southeast, the QRF consisting of Blackwood operators and more JRA comrades were fighting their way in from due west. From the Northeast, fellow USG troopers and another two platoons, 1st and 4th, also from Jha Co., 1st Bn, Elephant Regiment were going full tilt downriver on small riverine gunboats and transports. Tha company from 2nd Bn/Elephant Regiment was also being mobilized should they be needed, they would be airlifted in.

The Tamanna River was the main, large thoroughfare that bisected the northern and southern halves of the island. It saw quite a bit of shipping and trading, as well as fishing between the cities and villages along its banks. It could also be considered the divider between the Tamar and Hamikh peoples. Lately, it had experienced a lot more military traffic beyond the usual patrol boats crewed by gendarmes. First the Hamikh fishing boats with the Pan-Asian Nusantara marines and HDLF fighters on board - they had raised some suspicion, but not enough to be stopped. Then the JRA/USG manned boats running at a brisk clip. Their cross-river raids had become common enough, but this many craft with this urgency had yet to be seen.

It was enough to disrupt regular civilian presence, especially when it was well known that a civilian boat that got in the way of gendarmerie patrol boats would first get warning shots over the bow, then be sunk if not compliant. It was better than past eras when the gendarmes on the Tamanna were just as likely to not give a warning and send their kin to the bottom.
None of that particularly mattered to Sr. Sgt. Santos and his motley, beat down group of USG and JRA warriors. When realization set in between blasts and the rattling of gunfire that salvation might be at hand, the survivors roared, returning fire on the HDLF even more ferocious than before, if that was even possible.

---

The V-25 rolled on its side and dropped altitude to a few hundred feet or so. Per Kirves’ request, a single smoke marker had been tossed marking the friendly position. (It had taken numerous texts and radio calls to get Sr. Sgt Santos’ attention through the chaos.) Without slowing down, the VTOL rocketed overhead and released an extended burst from its 20mm rotary cannon into the treelines on either side of the road before pitching hard up and releasing a small underslung canister. A two missiles streaked upwards after it from somewhere in the foliage, diverging wide right into a spray of flares as the V-25 banked in the opposite direction. The forest below rattled as the powerful props rendered the chaos of battle inaudible.

Behind the front line, the MD-500 had hit the deck. Both Heimlick and Sparky were off in an instant, boots on the ground seconds before the helicopter’s landing struts. The rear doors opened and medical supplies were being tossed out as quickly as they could by the copilot. Both combat medics had taken up defensive positions behind an overturned log, using an outstretched mirror to survey the casualties and begin triaging who could be saved.

The metal canister detonated about fifteen feet above the ground, erupting in a white-hot blast of light as its’ timed fuse expired. Molten lava sprayed everywhere in a downward-facing cone of death. Anything and everything below was instantly caught in the conflagration. Ramirez smiled satisfactorily from his sentry position peering out the access door of the V-25. No doubt this episode would be more evidence to the Guard’s growing reputation as pyromaniacs. In this case, he knew very well they were operating within the scope of the law.

As the incendiary canister exploded and washed over the HDLF attackers, Santos and his group cheered. The celebratory return gunfire was much slacked off as their ammo was now in very short supply. They were now at half strength from when they had entered this part of the foothills of the Danjarits. They kept to cover, taking shots only when they were sure they could hit their targets. As the VG medics filtered in, the defenders pointed to their fallen comrades in brief moments, sharing what they could pass along about the wounds of their buddies and how they had treated them up to this point, to the medics. Then, they continued to face outward, bracing for the next onslaught as the HDLF regrouped.

---

Chital FAB
Near Prakaran

The USG had mobilized CAS aircraft to support the rescue effort of the trapped JRA patrol. Banshee flight consisting of two LIRCAS Sergeants had been moved from Bengal FAB and they were the first called up, as LIRCAS were fast and light and easy to mobilize. In addition, two Viper gunships were also given the signal and were on their way, going by the call sign of Kestrel One and Two.

As they neared the target, getting updated by Pulpit, they saw the V-25 do it’s magic. Unfortunately, where the HDLF were not prepared for the first Guild air elements, they quickly picked up the slack and prepared for the second wave. SAMs streaked up to greet the incoming USG turboprop aircraft. With almost no heat signature, the LIRCAS were hard for any heat seeking missiles to track, however. Banshee flight also set off chaff and flares to decoy the missiles into detonating prematurely as they went into evasive maneuvers.

Two of the SAMs went wide. The third exploded near enough to Banshee Two to pepper it with flak. It was nothing that would immediately keep the bird from staying aloft, but it would make landing difficult as a cable on the left wing elevator was damaged.

Running behind the LIRCAS, the Viper gunships went in cautiously, seeking out the origins of the MANPADS. They rocketed that part of the forest, aware that they should be safe in not hitting friendlies with the colored smoke still marking them.

---

On the Tamanna River

The riverbourne USG relief column neared the bend in the Tamanna that would be closest to the insertion on the southern bank to move in towards the battle. They weren’t aware that there were enemy boats on the river nearby, but for precautionary measures, the gunboats led the transports in.

The transports were filled to capacity with JRA soldiers ready to save their fellow Elephant Regiment comrades from destruction, with a scattering of USG contractors there to advise the platoon commanders and NCOs. On each transport, two soldiers manned mounted .50 machine guns mounted on the gunwales, while another manned an automatic grenade launcher mounted on a small bridge by the pilot’s station. The gunboats packed much heavier ordnance, with 20mm mounted guns, rocket pods and a CIWS slaved to a radar system in case of air attack.

The riverine craft approached the last safe bend in their westward journey down the Tamanna...

[Co-RP'd with Falkasia]

[The Cardwith Islands]

Battle of Mulayam Pathar (Part Six)
Danjarit Mountains, South Central Jaragupta

Kamano, the Mubatan ISVC advisor, had become the de facto leader of this HDLF group. Now his lifeless body lay atop several of his Hamikh comrades, heaped a couple meters off the trail where they had first ambushed the enemy patrol. Their fatigues flaked off their bodies, along with bits of their skin, where the incendiaries dropped from the mercenary aircraft had bathed them in fire. They were also shredded from heavy caliber machine gun rounds that had tore into them.

The most senior HDLF leader in the area was believed to still be alive, but was nowhere to be found and certainly not on the radio network. So, command fell to Luglerssen, the Yellowsian ISVC advisor, and his fellow national and comrade, Sigurdsson. They, along with the other surviving Mubatan, Ngule, had been able to vector their squads in to support Kamano’s force, only to realize that it was mostly wiped out. As the few remnants of Kamano’s group who survived the napalming by the enemy air assault ran towards them, mixed in with the JRA troops, they were cut down in the crossfire from the newly arriving HDLF and some of the Pan-Asian advisors who were pushing in from the riverbank.

The USG and Varangian Guard aircraft that dove in to strafe and bomb were sent back out, scrambling to avoid the MANPADS missiles that the HDLF fighters had been trained on and were firing with some effect. While not the primary mission, luring in enemy aircraft in order to shoot some down had been a big secondary goal for the operation.

Luglerssen was able to update his superiors through some relays back to Mehatar HQ. When they were non-commital about sending in more forces, he saw the writing on the wall. They had been sacrificed to make a point for a non-strategic area. The goal was not to hold the territory, but to draw in enemy troops and hopefully cause some attrition to the enemy side. Certainly to take out many JRA troops, but also to try to catch some of the Guild mercenaries out in the bush.

Mehatar spoke. Luglerssen was pretty sure he recognized the voice of the top Cardwithian CAIF commander himself, Colonel Fodenka: “Go ahead and begin a withdrawal, continue to inflict as many casualties as possible.” No word on reinforcements. In fact the Colonel continued to ignore direct questions about it.
“Withdraw for now.”

Luglerssen clicked off the radio and moved back closer in to the action, looking for some of the HDLF cadre that in his mind, were most like NCOs. He drew up short, almost shocked to see the HDLF commander he had thought to be dead pop up in front of him.
“Comrade Commander Atwal, where have you been?”

“I have been fighting, you idiot!”

“We need you to lead. Leave the fighting to the ranks. It doesn’t matter now. We need to order a withdrawal...”

“What?! Never! We are winning! You are a coward!”

“The order doesn’t come from me. We are about to get annihilated by enemy air...” Luglerssen sidestepped around Atwal to find Hamikh fighters to give the orders.

“Bullshit! You don’t order or lead here…” Atwal continued to follow him and bark in his face, spittle flying.

An enemy heavy machine gun opened up and the .50 caliber slugs tore through the less hardy vegetation, some finding their marks in the HDLF soldiers who weren’t reaching to hug the ground. Watching the progress of the bursts, Luglerssen found his moment. He gave a slight judo shove and knocked Atwal off balance.

The wide eyed HDLF commander realized what was happening too late as he stumbled into the line of MG fire. His chest exploded with two rounds and his face contorted and winced with extreme pain. Luglerssen was too busy crouching to notice.

Atwal collapsed into a bloody heap next to him. The Yellowsian grabbed the dying Hamikh’s chin, pinching it towards him.
“I’m in charge now. Idiot.”
He flung the now retired HDLF commander’s head down. It was then that he realized he had an audience. It was one of the lieutenants.
“Balwinder! Order a fighting withdrawal. Tell Jarvat, the others...”
He had to shout to be heard over the constant din of small arms fire mixed with mortar booms and grenade blasts.

“Comrade Luglerssen, I don’t think we can. We’re losing control.”

“Use the whistles. Tell the others. Do it!”

“Comrade Luglerssen. It will be done.” Balwinder was giving him an odd look. It became obvious to Luglerssen, as he was known to both his ISVC and HDLF comrades, that the HDLF lieutenant had observed everything and knew that the Yellowsian was complicit in his leader’s death, even if he hadn’t pulled the trigger.

“Good. Start now. We have no time left to spare. The enemy will start sending wave after wave of ground attack aircraft and we don’t have enough MANPADS for all of them.”

He would also have to make sure that an enemy bullet conveniently found the back of Balwinder’s skull before this battle was done. The irony was not lost on him that in his efforts to not have the battle derailed in the enemy’s favor, he was becoming a serial killer of the leadership of the ISVC’s allies.

---

CNS Hermes Vengavu (Light carrier)
Kavunga Joint Forces Base
Markville Harbor, North Cardwith

Vice Admiral Demarko Telutava walked with the group of officers to a quarters off the main bridge of his flagship, The Vengavu, where they would discuss any last minute issues and get to know each other, as well as setting up communications between the many ships of the multi-national task force. He wished he had time to tour all the major ships of the TF, but it just wasn't possible with the schedule they had to keep. The Commissar and Commander of Revolutionary Forces were adamant that they get under way promptly, within a few hours.

He was slightly surprised to see Captain Eoin Ceannairceach, commander of the Céachta agus Sleá, a Precision II Class gunboat, and the sole contribution of Selkie origin, although it was not an official vessel of the Selkie navy. The gunboat was crewed by volunteers and funded by a source other than the ISVC budget, and that was all he knew from the Commissar and the ISVC Commander, General Tozimbga, who didn’t know much more than him.

Truth be told, it was all he cared to know, when it came to that. He was certainly glad to see him. No matter how small the contribution, every bit counted when it came to the ISVN. Why they were fighting for the cause wasn’t as important to the Vice Admiral as whether they could and would fight.

Walking with a straightened back and her hands behind her back, Taamira listened to the vice admiral. She was not a very tall woman, being Sampornese and all, and had some tanned skin. While her clothes hid away her bodily features, it could be quite evident that she was at the very least somewhat athletic behind a somewhat baggy uniform. Her uniform consisted mainly of a white polo and some white pants, along with a green hijab and a naval officer’s cap. The only issues she may have had would be the rules of Jihad, and Islamic prayer times; of which were 7 throughout the day.

There were a handful of others there representing other member nation's navies, but the bulk of the task force would consist of Viet, Cardwithian, Yellowsian and Sampornese ships. Most of the Viet and Card ship captains were present, while the Yellowsian naval contingent was represented by Yfirmaður (Commander) Sigurður Tovarsson and the Sampornese were represented by Flotilla Admiral Taamira binti Sirajuddeen. The Cardwithian Vice Admiral got down to it as a steward served beverages in the large ward room.

"Gentleman..and ladies, this is a momentous time, but I don't want to take up your precious preparation with empty words...hyperbole. We are glad to have you with us and I am confident that with our show of strength, victory will be ours. The most important thing will, of course, be communication to coordinate our activities. Also, information...We will need the most up to date at every moment to operate. We will have ELINT ships operating, extended radar and sonar, and I should think regular air patrols. When we get to the area, we have sources at the ports in the Kingdom that can tell us when and where the enemy ships are launching. The caveat to that is that every time they broadcast, they put themselves at extreme risk. We will burn sources, but they know the risk and are ready to take it.

It is very possible that the enemy will not challenge us at all and will simply lodge diplomatic protests to dislodge us from their extended water claims. They don’t want a full war anymore than we do. We will stay in international waters...that is until the last hours. We will get final word, communicated to the Commanders from the Central Committee and our Commissar, as to whether we will be going in and to release troops and equipment on shore. Once that happens, make no mistake, we will be at a full state of war with Jaragupta and its allies. Are there any questions so far?”

Captain Eoin Ceannairceach was the first to speak,
“Vice Admiral Telutava, the Céachta agus Sleá is a gunboat, not a blue water fleet combatant. I request that be taken into account in this upcoming deployment. We could certainly perform anti-submarine warfare operations in support of the task force, but it would be ludicrous to deploy my boat in any offensive operations...Erm..Don’t you agree?”

Telutava tried not to be taken aback by the somewhat odd request
“Rest assured, Captain, the backbone of the ISVN does not rest upon the Céachta agus Sleá. If that is what you request, that is what you shall get for assignments. Be aware though, that although we will have your boat on ASW duty and other task force defensive duties, it may come into conflict with attackers of the ISVN task force. We would do our best to mitigate that, but there’s no guarantee that initial enemy volleys might not target it and hit it to peel away task force layers of defence.”

Moment after the Cardwithian Vice Admiral finished his speech, a single hand rose up and as the people in the meeting room looked back they would probably realized it was from the Great Viet's staff.
"I'm Vice Admiral Nguyen Hoang Truong." A late middle aged man in a slightly decorated uniform saluted as he stood up: "Comrade Vice Admiral, there's one thing which concerns us. Our concern is about what we are potentially up against, specifically what our opponent may deploy against us. Do we have any information about that?"

Telutava turned to the Great Viet comrade.
“Of course, Comrade Vice Admiral Truong. We are glad you and your comrades are here. It is a very good question that you have and while I wish I could answer it, I don’t know that we can nail down what the fascists, imperialists and mercenary lackeys might throw at us. The Kingdom of Jaragupta has a small fleet for home defense. If all goes according to plan, we have nothing to worry about and the enemy will keep their fleet in harbor and not sail out to engage us until it is too late for them to act.

There are three mercenary ships that we are aware of, one of them quite aged. Some mid-20th century rustbucket that should have been mothballed long ago. The other two seem capable, but again our sources haven’t seen them in action.

Right now, they haven’t attacked the Honshu, our comrade Pan-Asian carrier, so we just feel they might not risk an incident with our task force.

Also, we need to be aware of land based and air launched anti-ship missiles. That is what I believe is the most imminent enemy threat. We have no idea what they have, but they might have quite a few. Our spies have seen some launchers moved to the coasts, then lost track of them.

An unknown factor is whether their allies will send anything to their aid. That might push us to act before any help arrives. We will need to be ready to go into full invasion operation the moment we are within tactical reach of their shores.”

Seeing Truong nod in acceptance, Telutava began to wrap things up.
“I will be in further communication with Vice Admiral Truong, as we are in charge of the two task forces. As you know from earlier briefs, I will be leading the northwestern force rounding their north coast, while Vice Admiral Truong will lead the group along the southern coast. Assuming we clear away their naval defenses I just mentioned earlier...

We get the go ahead, we drop troops off at scouted beaches on the southern coast, on Gahana, and possibly the northeastern coast. Officially, we are intervening with peacekeeping forces requested . The moment we go to unload troops, we expect to be opposed unless the HDLF if more successful in their coordinated rebellions…”
He spoke for a few more minutes, then took more questions from the gathered officers.
“Well then...I think that is about it for that. My aides will pass out communication codes and drives to upload software to sync us up. The digital information also has a listing of ships and assets. Ladies and gentlemen...as President Nellis would say...Onward to the Revolution!” He raised his glass to be matched from a collection of beverages, alcoholic and non, from the ISVN officers.

[RP co-provided by Yellow Star Republic, Jaragupta, Samporna, The Selkie, and Divine Great Viet]

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Tamanna River

---

A fire-team of three stood guard over the rear, their officer possessing a single set of binoculars which he used to scour the terrain for sight of the enemy. They had become lenient, eager to join the fighting on the front alongside their comrades, but were grounded with this simple task.

Out of the clandestine shroud of darkness, emerging from the horizon of the Tamanna, the convoys of the enemy prepared to reinforce the dangerously surrounded Elephant Regiment. The youngest of the guard could not believe his eyes. He ran to the front to deliver news of the impending threat—before it was too late.

Battle of Mulayam Pathar (Part Seven)
Danjarit Mountains, South Central Jaragupta

---

Fury engulfed the muddy marshes of the countryside as the devastatingly advanced USG militants held their ground against the Communist onslaught. The HDLF and the Nusantara Marines were dug-in rather well, but the enemy had brought in explosives and long-range ordinance well above what prior intelligence on the mercenaries had foretold.

As the fighting ensued, more and more casualties among the native recruits were stacking, filling the trenches with a foul odor: a mixture of gunpowder, ash, and rotting flesh. Drizzles of a brewing storm swept the remains into the Tamanna, staining the shores red with young blood. The smoke and the rain provided natural-borne barriers to the line of sight of the Marines.

From up and above the battlefield however, Datu Ho and his sharpshooters were scoring their fair share of casualties. Amidst the darkness, the blinding muzzle of the sniper beamed death at the unsuspecting. They fired almost indiscriminately, partly because even with their geographic, it became increasingly harder to spot the enemy. Those who could, however, could discern that the guerilla were simply not prevailing over this battle. Socialist fighters in and around the treeline tangent to the general area that the USG mercenaries were surrounded upon were ill-equipped and unprepared to rival the battle-hardened enemy. Fear and panic clouded the resolve of some of the HDLF vanguard, who chose to fire blindly into the dark, wasting valuable ammunition critical to the sustainability of the operation.

On the ridge, a young Marine Lieutenant was asking to see Datu Ho, who received him immediately.

"Reinforcements.", uttered the Lieutenant in a worn-out and slurred manner of speaking.

"Ours?", inquired the Datu.

"Theirs. Along the Tamanna.", responded the Lieutenant.

With nearly a third of their contingent either dead or seriously wounded, and with enemy reinforcements from the Tamanna inching towards the shoreline, Ho and Berampu followed the directives of the ISVC to recall their attack. Several of the Asian Marines had been killed alongside the trainees. Their bodies were burned, or rigged to explode when possible, as to ensure that the attack could not be traced back to the Pan-Asiatic States.

Datu Berampu ordered the complete evacuation of the trenches. The captains blew their whistles, signalling the retreat; the Pan-Asiatic and HDLF forces fled their positions and fell back to the jungle. Mortars were unpacked, and HDLF pathfinders led the way out. Machine-gunners were the last to flee, endangering their very own lives to cover the rest of the contingent.

The retreat was executed as planned. The victorious mercenaries, should they follow the insurgents, would soon find themselves lost in the middle of somewhat of a complex of carefully-laid traps and unseen fortifications. Ghili-suited sharpshooters assumed new posts to cover for their comrades, putting unsuspecting targets in their sights.

Meanwhile, the Katalonan of both Ho and Berampu's contingent ordered a handful of scouts and pathfinders to coordinate the next steps of attack with the other ISVC commanders.

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Jaragupta

---

In wake of the leak of mercenary involvement, a surging rise in guerilla attacks, and foreign efforts to subvert the country's politics becoming somewhat known to the prominent members of the Kingdom's government, the city's domestic gendarme became ever more suspicious of its own people. Unions had been busted, dissenters imprisoned, and public gatherings viewed with suspicion under the watchful eye of the regime's dictators.

However, despite these conditions, the Pan-Asiatic Nusantara Marines were not only arming a countryside militia, but an urban one as well, in accordance to the stratagem of the People's Protracted War. The same models which Mao used to wage war on the Japanese Fascists would be put to test again on this far-away, seemingly insignificant island.

Hoping to rally the people to the cause of proletariat revolution, the Pan-Asiatic Ministry of State and Public Security had sent a handful of espionage-specialized saboteurs to provoke public outcry in the Pan-Asiatic States' designate area of operations in order to support the inevitable Naval offensive.

Pradhaan

---

Sailors of a private import-export enterprise gathered around, in the cellar of Pradhaan's largest tavern, past its operating hours. These individuals had been screened by the event's organizers beforehand. Since Pan-Asiatic media coverage of the Kingdom's true intentions months prior, much of the city's own had begun to question, even secretly, their own government's true intentions. Seeking better working conditions, many joined the HDLF's political wing in secret. In conjunction with the HDLF's commanders, the Pan-Asiatic States increased its advisory and oversight of the organization's recruitment.

Under the guise of tourism, Asian agents regularly spoke at clandestine political gatherings, and soon, even the official government of the Pan-Asiatic States began investing in Jaragupta's left-wing newspaper companies as well.

Attending tonight's talks were some of the owners of the Kingdom's largest newspaper companies, militants of the HDLF itself, and sympathizers who had helped the resistance organized by the Pan-Asiatic States thrive. Speaking was a member of the Asian Communist Party, Rajo Kong Sy.

"A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery!", shouted Rajo, raising his fist in the air. In the background, several of the attendees showed their agreement by retorting "Ere!" or "Yea!". He continued, "It cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another."

"History shows that wars are divided into two kinds, just and unjust. All wars that are progressive are just, and all wars that impede progress are unjust. We Communists oppose all unjust wars that impede progress, but we do not oppose progressive, just wars. Not only do we Communists not oppose just wars; we actively participate in them. The way to oppose a war of this kind is to do everything possible to prevent it before it breaks out and, once it breaks out, to oppose war with war, to oppose unjust war with just war, whenever possible.

We will be triumphant over the aggressor in a just war, a people's protracted war! When the time comes to prove your loyalty to the cause, do your duty with firm resolve and a heart of steel. Make no mistake—a red tide is upon us. The International Socialist Volunteer Corps is taking the People's War to Jaragupta!", spoke Rajo. Overwhelming applause and a standing ovation shadowed his words of encouragement. Similar escalations of civilian unrest would occur in Suraksha as well.

[Pan-Asiatic States]

P.A.S Type V-322E Jurōjin-Class Aircraft Carrier Honshu - Bridge

---

"Honshu to Urduja! Repeat, Honshu to Urduja! We are in need of immediate Naval ordinance to support our retreat, or we are in risk of zero-case outcome. Please acknowledge, over!"

With a hostile target in hot pursuit of the vessel, and possibly more hostiles having been alerted to its presence already, the Honshu was transmitting distress signals through coded channels with notable urgency, travelling at record velocities, hoping to maneuver itself out of the area of operations. Urduja was the codename of the Jaraguptan operation's Commander-in-Chief for the Pan-Asiatic forces, Datu Suou Kaori. With the infiltration of the Kingdom largely in the works already, the Honshu, as a singular naval entity had fulfilled its purpose.

On the bridge, a couple of young People's Maritime Army officers chattered in the background of the ship's loud engine, to the symphony of 21st Century navigation technology. The steel behemoth's quaking trail led the two to grab on to the ship's sturdy tables every once in a while.

"Zero-case outcome? What does that mean?", asked one of them, a green-eyed, dark-skinned ethnic Libyan dressed in Asian Communist Party garb.

"It means getting fucked.", responded his co-worker, a maritime political officer.

"33 knots, Captain!", exclaimed one of the Engineering charge d'affaires on the bridge.