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

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Pradhaan Forest Outskirts
15th of December, 2019 - 6:01 A.M

---

As the HDLF and Communist forces of Jaragupta continued to train with the assistance of ISVC personnel, building fortifications and gathering intelligence for the next major conflict, dozens of runners from the Pradhaan Soviet continued their efforts to recruit the people of Jaragupta to resist the tyranny of the imperial government. Fliers and other propaganda material hung freely on the walls of local villages, those responsible for posting them disappearing without a trace.

When new posters were doled-out, villagers would be assigned to memorize their contents. Jaraguptan police and military hastily tore-down any such paraphernalia, but such efforts to suppress the political hand of the Communists appeared futile. Those who were literate simply transcribed the leaflets once more, or recited them orally to neighbours, family-members, and friends. Soon, the numbers of the militias began to rapidly skyrocket, with one such leaflet reading:

JARAGUPTANS, YOUR LIBERATION IS NEAR!

The islands of the Wishton Sea were the lands of paradise built for and by the working-class, ordained to us by Kartā Purakh. During the last two or three centuries, however these lands turned into an area of misery and suffering by the aggressive exploitation of the capitalist: our leaders have sold our resources, homes, futures, and very lives to the benefit of the European and Western powers! Those foreign exploiters return the favor today, sending their soldiers of fortune who fight for nothing but ill-gotten money.

The good natured people then did not know how to defend themselves from the burglar with weapons. There was no other way left for those people who were dreaming in their paradise, but to let the exploiters do what they please.

THIS ENDS TODAY!

The world is rising-up against imperialism and capitalism! The International Socialist Congress (ISC) has organized the independent nations of the world into a compact and solid alliance of free liberty-loving peoples! The Committee for the Liberation of Jaragupta (CLJ), led by our Asian brothers in the Pan-Asiatic States, has dedicated itself fully to exposing the lies of our traitorous monarchs!

Let us march together, comrades! Join the revolutionary resistance of the Pradhaan Soviet by contacting your local Signal Officer! Jaragupta today, tommorrow - forever!

[Terre des Gaules]

112km Northeast of Jaragupta
Wishton Sea

Captain Louis Fabron led one of the current CAPs for the Southern Group that day. Vert Flight consisted of 4 Dassault Rafales, 3 very capable male officers and one very adept female lieutenant of the elite Gaulic Naval Air Force. They had had their morning brief and the Air Wing commander, Colonel Herbert Deschamps, had given it himself. As they neared the AO, it became that much more critical to review possible encounters with the ISVN, which they knew was closing in fast from the West and on a perpendicular course to them. Fabron ran down the rules of engagement as he scanned the instruments and gauges of his fighter.

It was with that in mind that the first flickers and blips appeared on Vert Flight’s radar screens.
It was sure that the enemy ships and jets would be attempting to jam up their radar, but the Gaulic systems were still pretty far advanced and able to detect some activity, even if they couldn’t get a solid lock.

“Stay frosty, Vert Flight. If you get a visual, holler out. They’re about 3 km out now.”

“Roger that, Vert Actual.”

Another half minute passed in silence as the Gaul pilots readjusted their radars to try to pick up the enemy.
Then there was no need for radar for a moment.
“Bingo! I have visual. Looks like...well, I can’t tell from here, but they’re definitely not ours.”

“Roger that, Vert Three. Stay vigilant. Keep a lock.”
They were, of course, not Guild nor Jaraguptan as they had given the Gauls their codes and they had been fed into the computers. Eliminating those and the fact that no other Gaul patrols were yet in the air, meant they were definitely bogeys.

Then they all saw them. From this distance, they wouldn’t be able to see the red stars, but the Gauls were all certain that they would be on the wings and fuselages of their opposites’ planes. They were this close and the communist jets weren’t painting them with heat seekers, so they would keep the status quo and return the favor. So far it was just two nations’ aircraft who happened to be wandering into each others’ air space, as far as the pilots of Vert Flight were concerned.

---

Lieutenant Anderson Elitungu was well aware of how close his flight of CF-29-Ns were to the enemy air patrol. He had the numerical advantage. With a flight of 5, they had one more aircraft than the enemy. Make no mistake, as far as the Cardwithians of the Air Wing of the People’s Navy were concerned, the imperialists 2km out and closing, were the enemy.

The CF-29-N was a highly maneuverable, Cardwithian produced and licensed naval version of the Universal Defense produced F-29 Prowler, a multi-role fighter that had been proven in the skies over both the humid waters of the Wishton and the deserts of southern Tavlyria, among other theaters, before being retired from Falkasian service. It was still heavily in use by the CPAF and CPNAW. They were armed with a full complement of AMRAAM 7s, as well as Vulcan 20mm cannons. They utilized the TAS MKII, a 2nd Generation Target Analyzation Suite Target Classification System and AAWCS MKII 2nd Generation Advanced Avionics Weapons Control System/Weapons Control Computer, along with accompanying short to long range radar suites.

Elitungu had received specific orders, along with his Panther flight, to push as far into the air bubble over the Gaulic fleet as possible. As the Gaulic Rafale fighters raced towards them, they dipped for the deck and corrected, continuing on a straight line towards the fleet.
“Keep on me, Panther.”

---

Fabron watched as the Card fighters shot by below, not phased by the presence of the GNAF Rafales.
“Circle round. Paint em, but keep the arrows locked up. We can’t have any mishaps right now.”

Vert flight responded, circling to get the communist jets in their sights. Their radars tracked and fed data to the heatseeking SRAAMs. Captain Fabron was able to get a visual during their crossed paths and recognized the shape of the F-29. Falkasia was a nation that the Gauls had had a lot of tension with, but the Gaulic officer knew that the Falkasians no longer flew them on combat missions, which meant they were likely Cardwithians, a close ally of the Falkasians, as they didn’t know of any other ISVC nation that used that particular multi-role fighter.

Panther Flight reacted, breaking up and away out of formation as the screech in their ears told them they were painted with missile locks.

Before things could get out of hand in the next few seconds, Fabron got on the open channel.
“You are entering the Gaulic military exclusion zone. You are advised to turn back now before it’s too late.”

A deep rich voice answered back after some seconds.
“Gauls...Be advised - We are on a routine patrol for the ISVN. Hold your fire!”

“You have 10 seconds to comply. Break off ISVN aircraft.”

They had pushed it enough for now. Elitungu gave the order and Panther flight veered up and away, breaking up their direct path towards the Gaulic carrier group.

The Gaul jets kept on them, but gave them distance. The Cardwithians climbed and shifted, trying to get the upper hand on their pursuers and stay on course to their original destination point.

---

Vice Admiral Telutava, listening in to the exchange from aboard the carrier Hermes Vengavu, had heard enough. He was steaming as he heard the attitude of the Gauls dripping over the airwaves. He turned to the air wing commander,
“I want another flight up now! What else do we have up?”

“Great Viets have a CAP up out there, also, sir.”

“Call them. We need to close in on the Gauls and put pressure on them. I want them to know they can’t push the ISVN around. Get Vice Admiral Truong on the radio. I need to talk to him.”
He hoped that he could convince the Viet Admiral to release more planes into the fray. It was a dangerous game, but it would set the tone for next few days as to who would cave. It could very well go hot, and the more aircraft in the air, the more chance that could happen, intentionally or not, but it seemed worth the risk to keep the Gauls from dictating events instead of reacting to them.

HQ-MHT-32 Aircraft Carrier's command bridge

"Understood comrade, I will see what I can do about it." Vice Admiral Nguyễn Hoàng Trường, captain of the carrier and overall commander of the Great Viet naval taskforce, hung up with the Cardwithian air wing commander before turning back to his waiting officers,
"Comrades, it's seems we are going to have a pretty hot day. Our Cardwithian comrades have had contact with Gaulic aircraft. No shots have been fired yet, but both sides are maneuvering close to the other, and they want us to give them a hand."

"What is your intention, comrade commander?"

"We have a flight in the air, don’t we? Order them to get to the scene but try to avoid combat. And prepare some back up too, just in case."

"Understood, sir."

"Also who else is out there?"

"Cá Kiếm 1 Group under Captain Trần Văn Thoại, sir"

"Good. Send them in to the threat zone, as well."

The air over Jaragupta

"Cá Kiếm 1, the Cardwithians are maneuvering with the Gaul planes. Captain, bring your unit to the scene and give them a hand, but try to avoid shooting unless necessary. J1 over."

"Understood J1." Captain Trần Văn Thoại, the flight leader of Cá Kiếm Group responded before contacting the rest of his group,
"You heard that comrades, we are moving toward their location."

Seconds later the four SU-27K-GV of Cá Kiếm Group smoothly changed their course, heading towards the threat zone. They were using the usual formation of Great Viet fighter craft in which the four aircraft would divide themselves into two pairs, with the first pair consisting of the flight leader himself and the Sub-lieutenant: Nguyễn Hoàng Khôi while the second pair which stayed not far behind consisted of the second in command, Lieutenant Lê Tấn Lực and Sub-lieutenant: Nguyễn Tấn Trường. The SU-27K-GV of the Cá Kiếm Group was the modernized and domestic version of the SU-27K (better known as SU-33).

The SU-27K-GV multi-role fighters may not have been the newest fighters, but their performance and durability had been proven throughout their time since introductions to the skies. These aircraft remained the backbone of Great Viet Navy who utilized them in large numbers. The modernized SU-27K-GV was equipped with new and more advanced equipment, including those usually only spotted on SU-57 aircraft. Due to their mission as a combat air patrol in a hostile zone, the entire flight were fully armed and equipped with mixed weapons for short and medium air to air combat including 30mm cannon, R-77 and R-73 missiles.

---

On board the Gaulic carrier
Colonel Herbert Deschamps, the air wing commander for the Southern Group, or CAG, was standing at the bank of radar screens riveted by the action portrayed on the blue and black reflecting sets.

He could see Vert Flight, and the hostile flight that had come extremely close and passed them, crossing that invisible barrier that the Gauls considered their safety zone
Soon after, the second hostile flight of what seemed to be two pairs entered the far radius of the screens. When a radar tech tried to inform him of this fact, he glared at him, pointing at his very functional, capable eyes in response.
They had the open radio transmissions being piped in over speakers, and meanwhile, the radio/cyber techs were attempting to get a lock on the ISVC secure signals between their aircraft and with their carrier.

CAG took the handset and took another breath before speaking.
“Vert Actual, this is Mama Bear. Chat them up once more. They are nearing launch range.”

“Roger that, Mama Bear.”
Captain Fabron clicked back over to the open channel after acknowledging Deschamps.
“Repeat, ISVN aircraft. Break off now, this is your last warning. Our carrier will launch anti-air in the next minute.”
Meanwhile, his flight was pushing the pedal to catch up to the ISVN bogeys, closing on them fast. They were still on a direct line to the Gaul carrier group a few km out, but visible on the horizon.

To an outside listener, both patrol leaders had very thick accented English, the common shared language that was often the go to in such interactions. The Gauls were taught it in school at an early age, as it was also the shared language of Western Madurin. Gauls neighbors like Monforte, Taranima and Neu Engollon all used it, with Gaulic French coming in a close second but not guaranteed to be a linking language.

For the Cardwithians, English was their official language, but the local dialect was so far off from what passed as English that it was considered a separate Wishtonian patois. Even neighboring Hutanjians had a hard time understanding their breakaway cousins. Still, there were moments when Cards knew to use ‘proper’ English and when it was okay to use patois. This was one of those times.

---

Elitungu knew it was time. There were certain words that they were waiting for and the Gaulic pilot officer had said them. They had pushed their limit and they weren’t ready to escalate to going hot...just yet.
He probably could have pushed it a bit more, and still not had missile locks on Panther Flight, but why? Why put unnecessary risk unto the pilots under his charge? The words that Group command were waiting to hear...maybe even all the way up to ISVC HQ and Revolutionary Action Commissar Perkins himself...had been spoken and that should be sufficient to not further risk the lives of his pilots. Yet...they had one more card to play.

He barked into the mic and his flight did a sharp turn, then corrected. They were now heading deep, paralleling the carrier group, instead of directed straight at it. It was still more threatening than actually breaking off and turning back. They were also heading away from their carrier support at a fast clip.
“Roger, Gaul aircraft. Be advised we are breaking off.”

Fabron let out an audible frustrated grunt over the channel.
“ISVN flight leader, be advised you are still heading towards our carrier group.”

Elitungu smirked to himself.
“Gaul leader, be advised we are near your carrier, but have no intention to head towards it.”

It was at that moment that the Great Viet flight popped onto all the edge of their radar screens, showing friendly to Panther flight and doubling the number of hostiles on Vert flight’s radars. Elitungu knew right away they weren’t from the Hermes Vengavu, even if his CAG had scrambled another flight it wouldn’t have been up that fast and he would have gotten word from them. The only other friendlies in the area were the Viets. That was great with him. He switched to the ISVN secure channel to hail Cá Kiếm flight.
“Viet flight, this is Panther flight. Glad to have your help.”

---

"Panther flight, We are Cá Kiếm 1 flight here to assist you." The Viet flight leader responded to the CPNAW flight leader as his aircraft closed the distance with the maneuvering aircraft. He switched to the open channel to contact the hostile aircraft: "Attention unidentified aircraft! You are interfering with a ISVN routine patrol and this is unacceptable. We demand you break off immediately."

As the Viet aircraft sped closer, they split themselves up with each aircraft heading towards and attempting to follow a corresponding hostile aircraft. The SUs would try to keep the hostile aircraft in front of them and right within their engaging range. Such movement would allow the Viet aircraft to be able to immediately retaliate against the Gaulic aircraft should things get hot.

Meanwhile on board the HQ-MHT-32 Aircraft Carrier

"Cá Kiếm 2, you're cleared for take off. Cá Kiếm 3 prepare for take off next. Cá Ngừ 6's personnel report to the flight deck immediately. All other units stand by."

"Cá Kiếm 2 taking off."

Quickly, if noisily, another two pair of SU-27K-GV took off from the aircraft carrier while the carrier's personnel readied their third flight of SU-27K-GK and two Ka-27PS.
.
BNRG Conquérant
Gaulic Southern Task Force Group

Colonel Deschamps, the CAG on the Conquérant, was already ready to respond to the ISVC reaction. Rouge flight, consisting of 4 more Rafales, was launching, while Bleu flight, 3 Mirage-2000s and 2 F-29C Warriors, was preparing to be pitched into the air next, once Rouge had cleared the deck.

Vice Admiral Ambroise Daribault trusted that his CAG, Deschamps, had things in hand in the air, but knew that they might have to rely on the CIWS and defensive missile systems if the ISVC aircraft were armed with anti-ship missiles and got any closer to launch. He was already giving instructions to knock them out of the sky if they crossed a certain line.
Also, he was very concerned about the proximity of the ISVN task force. Of his force of half a dozen submarines, three were peeled off to close with the ISVN ships and try to penetrate their defenses without raising a combative reaction. The BNRG Argonaute, BNRG Diane, and BNRG Prairial - all Type KR487 SSNs, split from the Gaulic group defense to go on the offense. BNRG Boxeur (Frigate), BNRG Tembeleux (Frigate) and, BNRG Chargeur (Corvette) were on the right flank, and the Vice Admiral ordered them to head on what would still be a route directed towards the Island, but also an intercept course for the ISVN mini fleet.

Daribault was in constant touch with General Dalier, who was on shore with the Jaraguptan high command in negotiations with the ISVC. What the turnout might be for those talks could dictate what actions they took next to either defend themselves or go on the attack against the Socialists.

His eyes, along with his aides and good part of the flagship staff, continued to rove from the bank of radar screens to the other end of the bridge, where he could see the Gaulic fighters taking off. It the ISVC aircraft were anything more than small dots several km in the distance, that would mean that the Gauls were already on borrowed time as they would be within range of the Marxists’ anti-ship missiles.

---

"More hostile aircraft detected" Reported one of the Great Viet aircraft back to its flight leader.

"I can see that. Keep following current enemy units."

"Roger, Comrade commander."

The Viet flight leader was aware that with more hostile aircraft taking to the air, they would outnumber friendly ISVN units by a small margin. Yet...He had his orders. Being slightly outnumbered would not be an acceptable reason for him, nor his flight, to go against those orders. Besides being an experienced officer, the flight leader knew the overall strategy of Great Viet military forces and one of them would be that their forces would rarely send everything they had in one burst, without keeping a reserve force.

And the flight leader was right. Just a few minutes after his aircraft detected more hostile units, they also began to detect signals from additional friendly birds.

"This is Cá Kiếm 2, we are approaching your position." The flight leader of the second flight hailed the Great Viet and Cardwithian aircraft through the secure channel while the four aircraft sped straight toward the maneuvering aircraft from both sides with a clear intent to assist friendly units.

Captain Trần Văn Thoại responded: "We are glad you are here Cá Kiếm 2. Your help would be most appreciated."

Lt. Elitungu, the Cardwithian patrol leader, echoed the sentiments on the ISVN channel: “Seconded. We are glad to have all of you here. Get ready as these Gauls are not happy. The game is just about pushed to its limits without arrows flying.”

Several minutes before
On board the Aircraft Carrier HQ-MHT-32

"Cá Kiếm 3 successfully taking off. Heading toward conflict zone."

"Receiving you clear, Cá Kiếm 3" The air controller of the aircraft carrier replied before announcing: "Cá Ngừ 6 stand by. Prepare to take off."

---

Captain Fabron, otherwise known as Vert Actual, was feeling the crunch as more of the Red fighters were in the air around them and they were outnumbered more and more. For a few minutes, they had matched the ISVN jets, but now they were outnumbered 3 to 1, for a short time anyway. The next few minutes could effect Gaulic foreign policy for a long time.

To a certain point, it was measured well before they took to the air. If the other side’s planes crossed an imaginary line, heading directly to the Gaulic Southern Group, Vert flight, and the others that were taking to the air, were given free range to engage in order to ensure the safety of the task force. That being said, it was more problematic that the possibly hostile fighters chose to encroach upon the task force’s operating zone, but parallel them instead of on an intercept course.

The case could be argued that they were simply passing by, not racing to confront. In the age of anti-ship missiles, though, ambiguity and safety clashed. Geometry and physics argued that the jets, even if not heading directly towards the Gaulic Southern Group/Task Force, would come to a distance where they could reach a range and angle to turn and launch at the Gaul ships. So they had only bought minutes, maybe seconds of time. Likely, with some advanced anti-ship missiles, they could have already launched blind from several kilometers back.

Even if it was just Fabron up here by himself and fifty communist attackers, he would follow through with his duty...but it wasn’t. Soon the odds had equaled again.
“Vert Actual, this is Bleu Actual. We are on station.”

“Copy that, Bleu.”

“Vert Actual, this is Rouge Actual. We’re also here.”

“Glad to have you to the party, Rouge. Vert…” He looked at the radar as the seconds ticked down, “...safeties off.” He was putting pauses in, waiting for the the CAG to break in and wave them off. It didn’t seem likely to happen now. They weren’t afraid, but firing the first shots of a war was not a trivial thing, “Guess it’s...hunting time. Mama Bear?”
One last possible out before things went hot.

Deschamps, the CAG responded immediately, "You are clear to engage Vert, Bleu and Rouge."

Fabron switched over once again to the open frequency that the two sides had been utilizing.
“ISVN aircraft. This is your last chance to return to your fleet. Don’t waste it.”

---

[CREDITS: RP Contributed by The Cardwith Islands and Divine Great Viet]

[Jaragupta]

Tuzarkha, Jaragupta

It was true that there was a strong segment of the Royal government and military that were in favor of putting the most grievously wounded of the Pan-Asiatic naval personnel, survivors of the sunken Honshu, out of their misery. Not out of any sense of mercy, but because they didn’t see the need to waste precious medical resources on what was sure to become a primary enemy within just a few short hours.

However, a more moderate group of military and government advisers, with the help of their Guild contractors, won out in their influence with the Rajah to spare all lives possible and give the potential enemy the best medical care available. (Which was far beyond what the common Hamikh civilian would be afforded at any clinic or hospital run by the Royal government on the Island.) The propaganda war was waging and any hint of cruelty towards the enemy would be a big hit to their image in the international community. It could jeopardize the foreign aid rolling in.

A massive amount of transfers were taking place as Jaraguptan civilians were sent home, or moved out of two hospitals, and four area clinics for other area facilities. The emptied clinics and hospitals would become secured medical facilities for the ISVC ill and wounded. They began to fill up within a matter of hours as Pan-Asiatic sailors took up beds as quickly as they were emptied by the civilians.

Two whole gendarme companies from the Python Battalion based out of Abilek were sent to aid in security duty of the Tuzarkha medical facilities and the surrounding area. Two platoons of the remaining company were kept to guard Abilek while the rest were scattered in squads to reinforce the constabulary in the northeastern coastal villages.

That being said, they were still filling up two warehouses on the outskirts of Tuzarkha that had become makeshift morgues with the body bags of both Pan-Asiatic and the pirate dead. Some had been blown apart by missile strikes or burned beyond recognition, some had been torn apart by the sharks, but most had merely drowned.

The tarp covered center of one warehouse was filled with body parts that would need to be tested and DNA typed to match them with the correct service personnel. With the humid weather and lack of proper air conditioning, it might be a losing proposition to get them all done in time. Intexa personnel intervened on their client’s lackadasical operations to get the parts packaged for nearby morgue coolers.

It was a need to know basis as to where the healthy rescued Pan-Asian sailors were being sent, with only a select few JRA specialists and a large security detail working with their Intexa/USG counterparts.

In the case of the pirates, or Hawk Privateers, the Jaraguptan Royal Guard stepped in, taking custody of both the healthy and lightly wounded, which ended up being only about a dozen. The severely injured went into the same hospitals as the Pan-Asians.

There was a brief stand off between USG personnel and the Royal Guard, as the contractors wanted to take them into a separate detention facility to bring light on the seemingly unprovoked attack, but a radio call from Major 'Iggy' diffused the situation. The Intexa were ordered to release them into Royal Guard custody. The pirates were trucked off to Mavala.

---

Suraksha, Pradhaan and Mehatar

Much as the beleaguered gendarme stations had resisted reprisals against the Hamikh uprisings, the inevitable happened. Families were detained to send messages to known activists. Real bullets took the place of rubber in putting down the protests.

In Suraksha and Pradhaan, Tamars that had joined the socialist cause and the Pan-Asian set up ‘Soviets’ were turned in by their own families who were horrified that their loved ones had become traitors. Even some Hamikhs were betrayed by their families that didn’t want to rock the boat and feared reprisals. Fear was always a motivating factor.

More and more, the JRA turned over domestic guerrilla fighting duties to their gendarme counterparts as they prepared for an invasion by regular ISVC forces. The Kingdom was in a panic and the rifts were becoming clearer as they fought to retain control.

In Mehatar, the cultural and historic heart of Hamikh country, they were in full blown riot mode. Gendarmes, royal military service personnel, and government officials were all public targets. Close to a thousand HDLF guerrillas were gathering and preparing to assault the hotel turned Guild compound outside the city, manned by the Varangian Guard.

[Jaragupta]

Rajah’s Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

They were gathered in a command center recently built within the last few years in the depths of the Palace. Taken out of context of what was happening above ground in the surrounding lands, and the massive disparity and poverty, the control room with large screens and banks of computers and communication terminals might have been mistaken for a warfare command center in any industrialized nation in the multiverse.

The Rajah himself sat in one of the contoured chairs that was usually reserved for the technicians. He had declined when they offered to bring down one of his leather bound chairs from the Palace reception room, but he still was not interested in standing for long periods while they tried to make contact with the communists, like the others in the room.

The situation was precarious as the ISVN task force lay off the coast of the Island, ready to bring ashore thousands of ISVC troops hailing from various constituent nations.
Admiral Goshkhalat, chief of the Jaraguptan Royal navy and Marshal Balakrishnan, overall commander of the Jaraguptan Royal armed forces, stood with some distance apart from each other, but not far from the camera that would project them unto a screen across the globe via satellite.

Prime Minister Anagatya stood near the Marshal. He also served in all matters of foreign affairs, there not being such a Ministry in the Jaraguptan Kingdom. In both roles, he was quite ineffectual and inadequate in his duties in the minds of the people, the military, and their foreign allies, but the Rajah insisted on keeping him at his post.

All the Jaraguptan officials had bags under their eyes that could hold a quarry of rocks.

Colonel Laurent Cogant had taken to some bouts of napping while waiting in the command center for the techs to work their magic . Like his client counterparts, he had been on his feet for well over two days with little rest, and it showed on his face, and in the rumples of his uniform. He felt and looked like shit warmed over, so he was quite irritated that they were insisting on a video conference with the ISC when he felt they could adequately handle the negotiations and demands strictly through audio.

By comparison to Cogant and some of the haggard Jaraguptan military command, the recently arrived commander of the Gaulic expedition, General Thierry Dalier, was very fresh in appearance and attitude. He was insistent on being included in all negotiations and planning with the client, The Mavala government, which Cogant really couldn’t oppose being merely a contract force commander, nor did he want to. He had talked with General Van Aardel, the USG commander and they had agreed way back from day one that the might of Gaul might help to deter the international Marxist interference in Jaraguptan affairs.

Cogant wanted to take aside Dalier and have a private chat with him, but he hadn’t had a chance without the Jaraguptans being nearby. There were a lot of reasons that the Gauls and the Guild should talk without prying Jaraguptan ears, but primarily it was the possible collapse of the client and a resultant Anabasis scenario. In its history, the USG had experienced many such contracts. It helped to be as prepared as possible for such a scenario, even though Cogant in no way wanted to be the next Xenophon.

One of Merlin’s associates, an Intexa officer of Latin American nationality that went by the moniker ‘Condor’, was present and had passed out dossiers to all the high ranking officials present that contained short bios of all the Central Committee members of the ISC, complete with head shots. Within seconds, they would know who they were dealing with when the ISC techs looped in the connection.

The Jaraguptans were capable enough, but some Riysian and Intexa techs were also present to connect in some of their proprietary technology in assisting communications.

Attempts had started some hours ago to make contact directly with the ISC, which had predictably fallen flat. Then, they had tried backchannel contacts to the Cardwithian government in Norritts; channels that were set up in the waning days of the Hutanjian War, when both sides were starved for peace. Finally, one of the Cardwithian officials was able to relent and provide them with the necessary channels and frequencies for the Central Committee’s foreign relations department at the International Socialist Congress in Bratislava, Aressna, where the real control of the ISVN task force lie.

---

International Socialist Congress
Administration/Operations Center
Bratislava, Aressna

The numbers and frequencies were begrudgingly given, and success was had as they were able to get in touch with attendant staff at the foreign relations department in a wing of the IS Congressional Building in the Ressian capital. It was the middle of the night there, and it took a little bit of time to wake and prepare Chairman Trevor Obelanka and Commissar of Revolutionary Action Henry Perkins. Some might think it ominous that the Commissar of Revolutionary Action was called upon rather than more diplomatic personnel, but there were other reasons besides an insistence towards conflict.

Normally, the Commissar for Socialist Unity would take point in such potential discussions, being the ISC equivalent to a Foreign Affairs Minister, but with Wiesław Prawda being in the process of stepping down from his position due to his illness, he was in no manner ready to handle such negotiations. In any case, Prawda was not to be found in Bratislava, having traveled for treatment at a neurology facility in Bialystok, north of his hometown of Bielsk, a week ago and the staff knew he was unavailable.

Chairman Obelanka had expected this moment might happen soon, and it didn’t take long for him to wake and prepare. He already had a suit picked out and ready for just this occasion and proceeded to dress as quickly as his aging body allowed. It was one of his Nehru collared suits he relished wearing, but the color was a deep, subdued crimson, befitting the color of the Revolution. Within twenty minutes, he stood in the Communications Room of the Congressional Building, awaiting Perkins and some other attending staff that had been prepped for this eventuality.

Trevor’s eyebrows rose as Perkins entered the room. He went to him and extended his hand.
“Commissar Perkins...Henry...it’s good to see you again so soon, if under odd circumstances. I hope you were able to get some rest.” He motioned back to the screen that currently displayed an image of the ISC crest on it.
“...They have the other side on hold and mute. I wanted to be sure that we were on the same page before we went live. I feel that it would be most important that we do not admit to the CAIF team or any ISVC presence on the Island, no matter how much they press or present evidence to such. Wouldn’t you agree?”

"Trevor, likewise," Commissar Perkins replied, shaking the Chairman's hand. He did look a little tired but he had the same grateful, enthusiastic glint in his eyes as always. "I think that would be best. But I have to tell you how utterly opposed I am to ending operations against Jaragupta without extracting heavy concessions from their government." Perkins wore the same Vionnan Red Army uniform as General Evans but his was newly tailored and was as clean as a new penny. Perkins absent-mindedly adjusted his woollen khaki tie as he spoke, evidently wanting to be as presentable as possible.

Obelanka nodded.
“I understand. I don’t think we have to agree or offer any concessions...or anything to them. I think it would be best just to hear what they have to say, maybe from an intelligence gathering standpoint. They can make all the demands they want. If anything, we might get most of what we want considering how desperate they were to get in contact with us in the first place. I doubt their Rajah will step down, but we’ll see, hmm?”

"Agreed. We may get a good look into the mindset of their leadership, if nothing else. To know your enemy is half the battle, after all." Perkins, nodding, affirmed. "Let's see what the bugger has to say for himself."

“Yes.”
Obelanka turned to the nearest tech in one of the swivel work chairs, convinced that he and Perkins were now on the same page.
“Connect us, please. We are ready.”

The tech nodded and only had to flip a switch to enable the completion of the connection.
It took a moment as the tech in the Jaraguptan palace also waited for confirmation from his superiors, then...the two sides could view each other.

“Good evening. I am Prime Minister Karam Anagatya of the Kingdom of Jaragupta. Thank you for this...eh...electronic meeting on such short notice. I represent both the Rajah and the people...” He waved back towards where his regent had stood up.
“May I present...The crown ruler, his highness and ruler of the lands of Jaragupta, Gahana and the Eastern islands, his highness, Rajah Jawamadav Prabhunadabaj.”

A Melanesian man with a nearly white afro stepped forward, wearing a deep red Nehru collared suit.
“You may...but we remain unimpressed. May I remind you who you are speaking with? I am Chairman Trevor Obelanka. This is my associate on the Central Committee of the International Socialist Congress, Commissar of Socialist Action Henry Perkins. We have been awoken in the middle of the night here in Bratislava, so I hope that we can cut to the point soon enough.”

The Prime Minister stammered.
“Uh...er...uh, well...umhhh…”

Balakrishnan stepped to the forefront and shoved the PM aside in frustration. He mumbled under his breath. ”For fuck’s sake, Karam.”

“I am Marshal Balakrishnan, commander of the Jaraguptan Royal Armed Forces. We demand to know why you have been interfering in our affairs and what gives you the right?! Sending covert agents to agitate the worst elements of the underbelly of our Kingdom...Sabotaging government property and assassinating our officials while they try to maintain order...Sending carriers off our coast to harass our coastal defenses...And now! And now, this fleet that has entered our waters to threaten our sovereignty. Will the injustice ever stop?”

Obelanka smiled.
“That ship you call a carrier was a large civilian trawler conducting research in International waters. It belonged to the Pan-Asiatic States, our allies, and it was illegally sunk by your agents causing tragic loss of innocent life. Some of the crew have yet to be repatriated. That might be a whole other talk that maybe we can address soon. For the rest, I will defer to Commissar Perkins…”

“Thank you, Comrade Chairman,” Perkins was grinning, enjoying this already. He tried to hide his mirth, however, by assuming a stoic air, made even more serious by his deep Brumley accent. “I don’t think there’s any denying that the situation on the ground in Jaragupta is shambolic. His highness, the Rajah, and his government are not governing, they are exploiting. The Jaraguptan people are sick of oppression, sick of being downcast and treated as if they’re worthless.” He could easily have presented his words as an impassioned appeal but Perkins spoke as if he were merely pointing facts. “Any hypothetical intervention would be a peacekeeping endeavour to maintain order and ensure that the people of Jaragupta are not being denied their rights. I urge you to see sense and approve an ISVC deployment for the sake of your people.”

The silence on the other end of the screen was palpable. Even the Rajah himself had planted his feet solid and his mouth fell slightly agape. General Dalier, Colonel Cogant, Admiral Goshkhalat, The Prime Minister, and the Marshal all traded looks. General Dalier nodded to the Jaraguptan commander of the Royal Armed Forces. The Marshal stepped up closer to the screen.
“You are asking us to accept an invasion and not oppose it? You are coming in to help the very people that are trying to depose our sovereign and destabilize the Kingdom. You are a very biased and partisan force trying to impose your ideology over our Kingdom and you think that we will just roll over and take it?” He had taken to shaking his finger at the image of the ISC Chairman and War Minister, or whatever they called his position. “...I have news for you...That isn’t going to happen. We have contracted forces, as well as allies. The Gauls will be landing soon and there’s nothing you will be able to do to stop that...That is, if you are looking to really ‘keep the peace’ on our islands, then you won’t interfere. General Dalier?”

The Gaulic General stepped forth, a little perturbed to be dragged into this trainwreck diplomacy.
“Ahem...Oui. Yes. We are hours from disembarking. But I think that you were well aware of that, as our fleets are facing off as we speak off the coast here. Last report I had was that your planes were very aware of our presence as they were encroaching on our air space. That is a situation that will become very quickly intolerable.”

Obelanka turned to give a look to Henry Perkins, then a wink, as if to say ‘I have this.’. He turned back to the screen. He seemed younger than his years, animated to be in the thick of such negotiations once again.
“General Dalier, we are most concerned about coordinating efforts and I think that we can all peacefully co-exist in upcoming operations in Jaragupta. Perhaps if you were to tell us exactly when and where you will be landing forces, and what zone Gaulic forces intend to cover, we can help each other out…?”
Obelanka looked earnestly at the screen to await the reply.

The Gaul General chuckled, and the others behind him did as well. It was a bold attempt to gain information, but he had to give the Chairman credit.
“Non...I do not think that this will happen. You will not be getting information so freely from me...from us...However, if you were as willing to share your deployment schedule with us, it might be very beneficial to avoid...accidents.”

Trevor Obelanka smiled wide and spread his arms, patting his left hand on Henry Perkins’ shoulder, who didn’t seem to be as amused.
“Oh...General Dalier! This is going to be fun. No I don’t think we will be doing that, either. Perhaps we can work something else out, though?”

Marshal Balakrishnan waved Dalier back. He looked at the Chairman through the screen.
“That’s it. We’re done…” He cut the air with his hands edged like blades. “...I will warn you that if your forces get any closer to our shore or attempt to land on our territory, we will resist. It will be considered an act of war. The ISVC is not welcome here in Jaragupta. Not the people on your boats, nor the ones you snuck in that are running around in our jungle. Their lives are forfeit.”

The Rajah nodded, pointing to his top commander as if to say, What he said. The connection was cut as the Marshal’s aides directed the communications techs to sever it. Another route to peace was closed.

The screen darkened, Harry Perkins roared a deep, proud laugh. “That was meant to happen, right?” He asked, his efforts to suppress laughter broken down entirely.

Trevor laughed along with Perkins.
“Henry, my boy. What happened could not have gone better. They are fucking scared, Henry. Scared shitless. They will be scrambling and their government will be on the verge of collapse. This is what we wanted, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Who would’ve thought that a few words of sense would make ‘em cack themselves like that? These pompous prigs they have no stomach to fight, we’ve seen that now. A shame we could not get any information out of them, but we know their mood, that is enough.” He laughed again, just as booming as before. “And it is a dire mood at that!”

Obelanka put a hand to his chin.
“Well...let’s not get carried away with early victories we haven’t earned yet. The Jaraguptans may crumble and be uneven in their defense, but I very much think that the Gauls and the mercenaries will fight...to a point. They will cut and run when pushed, but we have to really force that push. We have to make it bloody. Very bloody.”

“Yes, I suppose so. A shame, but we’d better get used to taking casualties if we’re going to show the world our resolve. This has been quite the education, Comrade Chairman. I must review today’s events with my commanders.” Perkins replied, straightening out his uniform. He saluted, smartly.

The Chairman stood straight and returned the salute.
“We will need to meet again, Commissar. I will be calling the Central Committee together in a few hours and I expect you to have your subordinates brief them on how we will progress as we land forces on those islands and how we will react to their response.”

“Alright then. I’ll make sure they know what they’re doing.” Perkins affirmed, nodding stiffly. “If that’s all, Comrade Chairman, I’d better get a copy of the minutes.”

“That is all, Henry. Unfortunately, I don’t think we will have time to rest again for a while. Today will be a momentous day. The first land liberated in the name of socialism, entirely by ISVC forces. I look forward to your brief.”
He watched Perkins walk out of the operations center, and after another couple moments musing, he headed the opposite direction to the door that would lead to the corridor to his suite.

---

Rajah's Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

Some minutes after the conference call was done, General Dalier was given a secure link back to the BNRG Conquérant and Vice Admiral Daribault. It took the attendant Radioman 3 minutes to get the Vice Admiral on the line.

"Ambroise, it's going to be a hostile landing. There's no negotiating with these commie fucks. Give them hell."

"I understand, General. Are you going to be able to make it back?"

"There's no point. It's not worth the risk. I'm going to do my best to set things up here in Pradhaan."

"We will keep in touch. Let me know on your progress."

"It will be much more crucial that you keep me updated. Let us know when the transports are coming in. We will make sure that the lanes are clear and we will have to make sure that all the IFFs and beacons are working. We will be doing our best to sink the commie landing ships. It would be tragic to hit the wrong ones...And, Ambroise? Get in touch with Dachine. We will need more troops. Airlifts round the clock."

"I understand. I will let them know. Hopefully they agree. Check back in within 2 hours, oui?"

"D'accord."

[RP was co-contributed by The Cardwith Islands, Vionna-Frankenlisch, Terre Des Gaules, and USG Security Corporation]

[Falkasia]

Kazyenko Independence Tower
Ekaterine, Falkasia

"The fuck were you thinking?" Vladimir screamed, his iron grip nearly crushing the handset pressed against his ear. "Oh... so you made a mistake? But now you're looking at losing three hundred plus contractors to an angry mob? And [/i]you're[/i] worried about there being an international incident? How the fuck do you think I'm gonna explain to the press that a Falkasian company is operating wholesale outside the purview of government oversight? Let alone orchestrate a daring rescue and put lives at risk?"

He inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. Over the course of a minute he repeated the exercise, ignoring the tirade of rebuttals on the other end of the phone. There really wasn't a choice here. He just hoped it didn't come down to actually requiring It. If it did however, he and his staff would handle damage control at that time. Only at that time.

"I understand. A full-scale deployment would only inflame the situation. Every socialist nation which somehow transitioned past the mass starvation stage, not to mention the Gauls, have boots on the ground. We'd have to handle this creatively. The Gauls would object solely on the instance of having to breathe the same air as us. The Jaraguptans would scream "party foul" as well, at least without having been invited first. We could mock it up to consulate defense. No real point in protecting our embassy in Mavala, seeing as we don't have one. We have no cards... well... to pull with the Cards. That relationship is as strange as it gets to be frank... and regularly reminds me why our deployment there was ideologically a bad idea in the first place. But we get what we need from the islands, and fuel domestic industry.

Vladimir had slowed his breathing and was back behind his desk, idly fingering and flipping through his government's playbook.

"Let me remind you... your industry foremost." he continued with only a momentary pause. "We'll have to get creative. Only a small force, deployed but kept on standby. And only in the event the compound in Mehatar is being overrun. But know that if we have to swoop in, that's it. No more freelancer mercenary shit. You and your leadership will come in, and explain yourselves in public tribunal. I'm growing impatient with all the wanking Universal Defense pulls. I turn a blind eye... I choose to turn a blind eye, because of the benefit our nation reaps from that freedom. Don't make me regret it more than I already do."

[Shalum]

SSI Operational Zone
Suraksha, Jaragupta

“Driver, bear left up ahead.”

“Aye, sir.” The driver replied as he began applying pressure to the brake pedal. The order itself hasn’t exactly been needed, up ahead the rest of the patrol was slowing to make the same turn. It was a mixed convoy of Shalumite provided guild vehicles, mainly Mk.II Schroder Gun Trucks that had been designed for internal security operations such as this. Interspersed were heavier Luchs protected mobility vehicles loaded with fireteams. Normally, they didn’t operate with a man at the main gun, but recent events had made that an unfortunate necessity.

From his position in the back of his own truck, Captain Marcus Shaw shifted slightly and wished desperately that he could have lit up a cigarette. It wouldn’t have been an issue had he been in one of the smaller patrol vehicles, but his heavier truck was rigged up for operating in hostile environments where teargas and other, more dangerous chemicals could have posed a serious threat. The upside, at least, was that there was air conditioning in the meantime.

“So is it going to be as bad as they say?”

Glancing up from his rifle, the captain shrugged slightly. Sitting across from him was one of the newer contractors. None of them were wet behind the ears. Everyone who had been deployed to the island had seen combat before. They were all former army, veterans of insurgency operations in Maldoria or the more recent conflict in Nalaya. He doubted a single one of them would have broken under fire, but against the kind of forces they could have been facing? He wasn’t expecting a miracle.

“It’s too early to call, I’d say. Hopefully the diplomats that get paid the big bucks can work something out that doesn’t involve shooting.” War wasn’t glorious, it was nothing like the movies. No matter how many times the med unit ran through their drills, they would lose people if it came down to it. “If that doesn’t work though? We’re playing with the home field advantage here. They’re going to have to get through the men we’ve trained before they even get to us, eh?”

The soldier across from him was a lance corporal. He’d once belonged to the 5th Gebirgsjäger, a unit that had been broken up not long after the last intervention they’d been sent into. He was but one of thousands who had resigned from the military after the political shitshow that had been. The infantrymen smiled tightly and rested his head against the padding of his jump seat. “You could say that, yeah. We’ve done pretty well with ‘em so far, but…” He glanced towards the far wall of the Luchs. “No offense, but they’re pretty green, you know? I don’t know about who we’d be facing, but I know that most of our trainees haven’t put lead on live targets ever in their lives.”

Captain Shaw grimaced slightly at that, but nodded as the next song cycled through the speaker system. The new vehicles really had it all, down to an onboard coffee and tea maker. “I’ve got faith in them. They’re a solid bunch, and we’ll be right there with them to remind them how it’s done, no?” He smiled, though it lacked any real humor. “If that fails...good thing we brought attack helos too, eh?”

[Terre des Gaules]

Over The Wishton
103 km Northeast of Jaragupta

“ISVN aircraft. This is your last chance to return to your fleet. Don’t waste it.”

Elitungu chuckled at the Gaul pilot’s sternness. He pondered replying, then thought better of it. The waste would be in his mental energy making promises they would not keep. The Gauls were locked on again to his flight, and probably the Great Viet planes also. They’d managed to get more in the air. He turned the frequency back to the CPNAW channel.
“Panther flight, let’s veer off a bit and defuse this just a bit.”

“Panther One, this is the CAG. You’ve done enough today. Return to the Task Force. We’ll let Leopard and the Viet flights take over.”

Elitungu made a face that no one outside the cockpit could see, but it was not a pleasant one. Panther flight was nowhere near in danger of not having enough fuel to return to the carrier. The only other reasons he could see that their CAG was calling them back was that they might be mentally exhausted or not making clear decisions with the Gaul units, although he’d clearly followed protocols set forth that morning.

He would be sure that Panther flight was refueled and back in the air as soon as possible.

---

Vice Admiral Daribault mused after his conversation with General Dalier in Mavala. While he had gotten vague orders from someone who was his operational superior, it didn’t convince him that committing to war, even if an option left open by Paritte, was fully endorsed at this point by his government. A very labored call to Paritte, waking up the Defense Minister from a sound sleep, left him in no doubt.

General Dalier had been given leeway from the government for a reason. They knew that things were heading towards a confrontation and they trusted Dalier to know when to push to full throttle. Apparently, that moment had arrived. Vice Admiral Daribault would keep in line with his superiors wishes.
He re-entered the bridge from the radio room to seek out the CAG, Colonel Deschamps. After a few moments of solemn discussion, both of them walked to their stations seeming to have lost weight off their shoulders.

Colonel Deschamps smiled as he keyed back to the channel of Vert Flight.
“Vert Flight, this is Mama Bear. Come in.”

“Mama Bear, this is Vert One. Copy.”

“Vert One, you are cleared to engage the ISVN aircraft.”

“...”

“Vert One, do you copy?”

Fabron shook his head, not that the CAG could see it. There was no need to escalate this. The Cardwithians were obviously not going to attack the Conquerant Group.
“Mama Bear, they are turning away. They are not heading to your cave.”

“Are the enemy fighters heading back to their fleet?”

“Non.”

“Are they still heading towards Mama Bear?”

“Oui...mais...They will be near-...”

“Vert One, once Bleu and Rouge flights are there, you are cleared to engage the enemy aircraft...Splash the Reds, Dammit! Do. You. Copy?”

“Yes, we copy, Mama Bear. You heard him Vert Flight.”

Fabron and his fellow pilots of Vert flight eased up, letting the Card planes get some distance. Then, when the other Gaul patrols caught up, they pushed the throttles again. Almost as one, as they got in distance, the Gaul fighters painted their opposites in Panther flight with missile locks.

“Bleu and Rouge One, you are also cleared to engage.”

“Copy that.”

“Roger.”

---

Elitungu suddenly got cold chills as the alarms from missile locks screeched in his ears. They had been through all this minutes ago, but somehow, this time seemed different. This time there was no verbal warning accompanying it. They had pushed the Gauls to the breaking point, or something else had happened on the ground.

All of Panther flight went into evasive maneuvers within split seconds. Panther One saw no need to talk and distract his flight, not that there was time. All his pilots needed every bit of concentration to prepare counter-missile defenses and distance themselves from their Gaul pursuers.

---

It was Bleu Three, not one of the Vert fighters, that was the first of the Gauls to fire a shot. Lt. Helene Côte got a solid missile lock on her quarry as one of the Cards made the error of pivoting into Bleu’s intercept line as they covered the right flank of the 3 flight formation. From this distance, she was able to clearly tell that it was a CF-29, but not see the yellow stars outlined in red that would be on its wings.

Côte flicked off the safety and plunged the button down on the selected air to air missile, which burst out from its pylon and raced towards the unwitting Cardwithian pilot. He was good and although he only had a second to react, he did so, twisting downward for speed and firing off chaff and flares simultaneously.

---

Panther Four’s quick reaction saved his life as the missile detonated on a flare. Shrapnel still peppered his aircraft and alarm signals began to go off in the cockpit, warning of cut hydraulic lines, a fuel leak, and a disabled wing lift.
“One, this is Four. My bird is hit bad. Returning to deck.”
Panther Four would go low and try to make it back. His decreased mobility and rapidly shrinking fuel reserve was a liability in this scrap. His finger would be on the eject button, should his aircraft decide to shake apart before he could make it back to the Vengavu

“Copy Four. Be safe.” Elitungu switched over channels to the ISVN shared net. “Cá Kiếm and Leopard, this is Panther. We’re taking fire from the Gauls. One bird down.”

Reality and the irony of the situation was that none of Panther flight had been equipped with anti-ship missiles. They were out solely to probe the Gaul’s reaction to an encroachment and turn back as soon as they had pushed enough. Probably too far, but that was a moot point now. The Gauls had turned this into a shooting war without a lot of provocation. ISC command had yet to get in touch with Vice Admiral Telatavu and the other ISVN task force commanders to explain the ramifications of what had just transpired between Mavala and Bratislava.

The CAG on board the Vengavu hadn’t armed Leopard with AShMs, as they were to join the fray with Panther, but, upon orders from Telatavu, he made sure that Tiger flight was tasked with targeting the Gaul task force with a full complement of AShMs, hoping that the Viet, and other Card (Leopard and Panther) flights could run the interference necessary to allow them to have a good range. At a certain point, the two mini-fleets would be in range that they wouldn’t even need to launch anti-ship ‘arrows’ from aircraft anymore, but if they got too close, they would also be in range of whatever the Jaraguptans had on shore.

---

"The Gauls have opened fired. Repeat, the Gauls have opened fired. Cá Kiếm 1, engage the enemy."
Right after the first shot fired by the Gaul aircraft was detected, Captain Thoại, Flight Leader of Cá Kiếm 1 Flight, ordered his aircraft to retaliate.

"Roger that, Flight Leader."

The Viet flights had followed behind the entangled Cards and Gauls and had tried to keep a favorable engagement distance from the first four hostile aircraft from the beginning. Upon receiving the ‘Go’ order, they were able to engage the enemy almost immediately. One after another, the four aircraft of Cá Kiếm 1 fired their missiles at designated targets. Each of the four designated targets would be confronted by two pairs of air to air missiles, which weren't fired simultaneously to minimize the effects of their countermeasures. Once the missiles left their pylons, the Viet aircraft immediately broke off and prepared to engage the other enemies.

"Cá Kiếm 2 to J1. Enemy units opened fire at the Card. One of their aircraft took severe damage and is retreating. Cá Kiếm 1 is retaliating according to the protocol. Cá Kiếm 2 are engaging the enemy."

"Message received. You are clear to engage all enemy units."

"Roger J1. Cá Kiếm 2 intercept those enemy attacking the Cards."
The flight leader of Cá Kiếm 2 responded before ordering his flight to engage the hostile aircraft. The second Viet flight quickly formed into pairs and sped in to also engage the Gaul flight that had fired upon their allies. Like Cá Kiếm 1, each SU of Cá Kiếm 2 would launch two pairs of missiles in successive waves, each pair against one of the hostile aircraft, before breaking out and preparing for evasive movement.
.
As the two Viet flights began their retaliation, the third one, Cá Kiếm 3 respectively, arrived at the conflict zone. CK 3 would also form in pairs, yet seeing the situation, each pair of the flight separated from the others and tried to execute a pincer movement in an attempt to engage the Gaulic aircraft at different elevations.

Moment ago
On board the Aircraft Carrier HQ-MHT-32

"Battle stations. All personnel to their positions. All flying crews prepare for launch."
Alarms were blared across the ship, and likewise across the entire Viet taskforce, as personnel hurriedly rushed towards their battle stations. The CAG and Deck officers barked orders:

"Cá Ngừ 6 stand by. We have news that at least one Card aircraft took severe damage and may not be able to make it back to their carrier. However, we are engaging the enemy so you need to stand ready for a rescue operation."

"Copy that."

"Hải Mã 1 and Hải Mã 2 prepare for take off. Your target is the Gaul aircraft carrier. Understood?"
The tactical officers briefed the pilots again as they quickly climbed into their aircraft. Unlike the Cá Kiếm flights which utilized the SU-27K-GV, the Hải Mã flights flew the MiG-29K-V. They were armed with not only air-to-air, but also air-to-ship weapons to attack the enemy carrier for this mission. Another difference was the Hải Mã flights only consisted of three aircraft each instead of four like their Cá Kiếm counterparts.

Once all their preparation was complete, the Viet aircraft carrier launched all six MiGs from its flight deck in successive waves. The MiGs then formed themselves into separate trios while making haste towards their designed target. They would attempt to arrive at the conflict zone at different elevations and angles to better their chances to engage the hostile Gaul fleet and avoid its defenses.

---

The Cardwithians in Panther Flight were climbing and diving for their lives from the, if not unexpected attack, ill-timed attack, at least. They had not expected the Gauls to escalate so quickly, but they also weren’t aware of what had taken place dozens of km away in Mavala, the capital of Jaragupta. The aftermath of that back channel communication had solidified both sides: The Jaraguptans, Gauls and allies, and on the other, the ISVC, that there was no further point in diplomatic measures and that they were going to inevitably engage in conflict.

The Gauls of Vert Flight pursued their quarry, and were in turn pursued by the Viet flights. In turn, Bleu and Rouge flights were arriving in the zone and painting the new ISVC aircraft with missile locks and also getting locks in return. Again, Leopard flight took one flank to lock in with the other Gaul birds, hoping that their counterparts in Cá Kiếm 2 and 3 could handle the rest of the Mirages and Rafales.

Meanwhile, Vert flight broke off as the Viet missiles closed in on them. They launched their chaff and flares, as well as electronic systems designed to rapidly scan bandwidths and send out jamming should hostile missiles feed off electronic signals instead of the heat seeking variety.

Despite all these measures Vert Flight didn’t have as much time to react and maneuver as their counterparts in the other two flights, who were still at a comfortable distance. Vert Two was hit directly with a missile and the Rafale disintegrated in a fireball with no chance for its pilot to eject. Another missile tagged the right wing of Vert 4 and sheared it off in its blast, sending the fighter spiraling towards the drink. That pilot was able to eject in time before being killed in the impending impact of hitting water that would be hard as concrete on the broken bird.

Bleu Four also took a near hit as a missile detonated too close for comfort. The aircraft was peppered with shrapnel, but still fight worthy, if superficially damaged.

The remaining Gauls had managed to avoid the first volley of enemy missiles, but were too preoccupied to continue their assault on the Card aircraft. They veered off and went low to the deck of the sea, hoping to put some distance between them and their Viet pursuers. Bleu and Rouge continued to engage, loosing off a volley of their own air-to-airs at the Viet fighters.

“Bleu and Rouge, this is Vert One. Sorry. You’re on your own, guys. We’re getting squeezed too hard.”

“Vert One, this is Bleu One. Roger that. Steer clear. We got this.”

---

Bridge of the BNRG Conquérant

Colonel Deschamps looked to the Vice Admiral as they saw more and more aircraft enter their radar screens from the direction of the ISVN fleet. Some were on an obvious trajectory directly at them and not towards the melee happening closer to the coast. This was balls to the wall now and it was going to turn into a long distance shooting match between the two groups of vessels.
Daribault pointed at the CAG,
“Do it! Ship killers!”

“Aye, Admiral.”
He had been expecting the order and already had a flight of Mirage 2000s queued up with anti-ship missiles. He gave the orders for them, Tonnerre (Thunder) Flight, to launch. Accompanying them would be, Éclat (Flash) Flight, their elite F-29C Warriors. F-29 Warriors were not the same as the identical named Falkasian fighters. They had been developed by UNADS, a multinational group led by Emmeria, and were some of the finest air superiority fighters to fly the skies.

Meanwhile, Daribault gave orders for the corvettes and frigates to be ready to defend the carrier group with their anti-air missiles and CIWS as the threat of the enemy ‘spears’ closed in. More than half the submarines of the Southern Group were already preparing to encircle the ISVN fleet consisting of Cardwithian, Viet, Sampornese, Petroslavian, Selkie, and Yellowsian ships.

---

Mid Distance between the Task Forces

The submarines of the ISVN JG Northwestern Expeditionary Battle Group had been expecting such moves and were ready on picket duty from the fleet. They began to engage in cat and mouse, looking for a good opportunity to sink their opposites with torpedoes as they closed. The ISVN ASW assets would wait to see if any Gaul subs broke through that layer before being drawn away from the task force to engage. Were they to rush in, it might leave the larger capital ships vulnerable. In due time, the two task forces would close in on each other and likely launch barrages.

The first two vessels of the opposing groups to fight each other were the CNS Zegaratka and the BNRG Ariane. The Cardwithian sub fired torpedoes first, then dove from an expected counterattack. The Ariane managed to deploy countermeasures and veer off, one torpedo missed and swung around to re-engage as it homed in, but it hit a rock spire instead, leveling off that outcropping from the seabed. The second fish detonated on a decoy, but the shock waves caused some issues on board the Ariane, the worst was the buckling of one of its fins.

The Ariane already had its own fish in the water speeding towards the Zegaratka, having launched them before it veered off. The Cardwithian sub was able to deploy countermeasures, but one of the Gaul torpedoes struck it mid-ship, tearing it in half and killing most of the crew in the blast, those that didn’t subsequently drown.

The Ariane limped back towards the fleet, trying to compensate with course corrections as the sub didn’t respond to steering properly.

[CREDITS: RP Contributed by The Cardwith Islands and Divine Great Viet]

[Wandering Argonians]

They’d been embedded with the local military & gendarmine units for a while now, long enough that the initial assessments & training the FID teams had laid out had been completed. The locals were working at what Marcus ‘Sixgun’ Slade considered an ‘efficient’ level, such that he’d greenlit joint patrols with the J-Gup forces.

Night had long since fallen, and with the upswing in guerrilla activity the Blackwood mercs had seen a sharp uptick in their own operational activity, which Slade honestly enjoyed more than running shoot-houses & flat ranges for the locals. Some of the standout paramilitary operatives had been given surplus BW equipment, both to better enhance their effectiveness & to allow the embedded BW contractors to run their preferred equipment without standing out too much on patrol.

Slade himself was kitted out in spare J-Gup gendarmine fatigues under his lightweight black JPC, with his namesake wheel-gun holstered at the small of his back. The piece wasn’t a throwback carried out of vanity, but a modern fighting revolver made from space-age materials & chambered in the ever-effective .357 Magnum. The issued Glock 19 rode on his right hip, irreplaceable despite his disdain for the polymer-framed semi-auto. The SCAR-like BW standard-issue short-barreled carbine dangled from its sling across his chest.

The exchange of equipment was a fairly standard custom across his frequent deployments, it served to build bonds between the indigenous forces & the FID teams. BW equipment was top-of-the-line gear, exchanging it served to provide the locals with better gear and provide the FID troops the means to reward high-performing trainees with tangible benefits for exemplary performance. Again, it also let Slade & his troops blend in a bit better among the indigenous troops they were advising without changing much in the way of their own equipment.

Things had quite literally gone to hell across the province, with the insurgency kicking their operations into a higher gear along with a serious information warfare campaign intended to sway the fence-sitters to their radical cause. It was for this reason Slade & his troopers were out & about with the local paramilitaries they’d spent a great deal of time training. While Slade had faith in the JG’s to conduct themselves in nothing short of a professional manner, the big boss hadn’t wanted to take any chances.

Dekker had ordered the FID & COIN teams to integrate heavily with their JG counterparts to both plus up their numbers and to mitigate any incidents of potential war-crimes. That was typically easier said than done with the COIN teams, but he’d yanked the proverbial loose chain substantially tighter in light of recent events. Where they’d gotten away with clandestine axe kills (a Gungiri tradition) under the pretense of staying quiet stalking insurgent patrols, the last thing Dekker had needed was for one of those corpses to make its way onto the insurgency’s social media feed. Thankfully, his men had been professional enough to cause those bodies to disappear with their usual efficiency. The jungle had made that matter a bit simpler, at least.

The man in charge of the Blackwood contribution to the mercenary effort had spent the past three days in a plate carrier, working rotations on the compound walls with the rest of the troops, smoking his usual cigar out of a modified .50 BMG brass casing to hide the cherry. The issued BW SBR felt toy-like & childish in his hands, much like the stubby Glock 19 felt in his bear paws.

The COIN teams were out with their JG counterparts, the standout performers from their extensive training from both the Royal Army & gendermaine units having been integrated into consummate insurgent hunter squads. They’d doubled BW’s operational force, instead of two teams of mercenaries they’d plussed up to to four teams of 50/50 JG & BW troops, which would make the combing of the thick jungle a tad bit easier, at least in theory.

SMT ‘Hammer’, despite their losses during their QRF outing, was still manning the walls with the same professionalism Dekker expected of them, the holes in their roster plugged with Dekker himself & a few of the intel analysts from the intelligence section. Sleep had become a mild luxury as guard rosters doubled in the wake of the uptick in insurgent activity. They’d borne the burden with little complaint, however. Making the grade for operational deployment came with a certain degree of competency in the profession of arms, regardless of what spot on the roster an individual occupied…

[Jaragupta]

Gahana City, Gahana Jaragupta

The gendarme police commander for the Gahana City Garrison had had to report hours earlier than his normal check in time as the city began to boil over. Protests were reported in several parts of the City, but the largest disturbances were happening downtown, just 3 km from the Garrison main station.

Commander Angkat Ralabishan had gotten his kit together well before dawn, then taken a prayer session before the family shrine to Lakshmi. As he prepared to exit the family home, he kissed his six children, who ranged in age from 2 to 14, on the foreheads while they slept, with only his 8 year old daughter awakening to give him a light hug then promptly falling back asleep. He then hugged his wife, who refused to let go for a long time.

They both knew that something felt different about today. There had been organized labor troubles before across the island of Gahana, but this somehow seemed more malevolent, especially when taken in with the events unfolding across the rest of the Kingdom.

He arrived to Kha HQ station house in turmoil as the commander of the night shift, one of his deputy captains, continued to deploy the gendarmes to riot duty as they reported in.
“How bad is it?” Commander Ralabishan asked the captain.

“Small groups have been vandalizing foreign businesses and harassing police all night, but now people are filling the streets in defiance of curfew orders. I have never seen it so bad, sir.”

They continued to do a shift change brief, then the exhausted captain, knowing he couldn’t return home, took a cot in the back of the station house to rest up. Several other night shift personnel were there doing the same, as they weren’t released from duty, but granted naps.

The Commander was not comfortable to let anyone even go off to the cots until they had all listed shift gendarmes clocking in for duty. They would need all hands on deck for this, he was sure. He would play it by ear for the next couple hours as to whether he would call in the reserves and off duty officers.

Even then, there were some conspicuous absences of personnel. The night shift captain had reported the same. A very coincidental stomach bug had tore through at least a quarter of his shift, some calling in, others having to be relieved mid-shift.

Unlike the main Island, Ralabishan had pride in his garrison that they were very inclusive, with Hamikh, Tamar, and even some of the smaller ethnic groups represented in his ranks.

That went for the main garrison station here in the provincial capital, and in all the small station houses across Gahana. The same couldn’t be said for many, no, most of the gendarme or regular JRA units on the main Island. Now, the mild illness had mysteriously seemed to strike along ethnic lines, with his die hard Tamars having the most hearty defenses against it.

Actually, the fact that some of his Tamar men were eager to get to work did worry him more than the ‘mystery bug’. There was a group of gendarme officers that had become more vocal about their staunch loyalty to the Rajah and the shortcomings of the Hamikhs, both civilians and their fellow officers. He was sure that they were reporting for duty in the hopes of knocking some Hamikh heads.

So, going in, it was already a volatile situation on both sides of the riot shield as the protests flared into a darker shade of unrest that morning downtown.

Commander Ralabishan had decided that he needed to see for himself how bad it was getting out there. He rode in an armored car with some of his officers across town, just minutes before it would seem the very Earth itself had been torn asunder.

[USG Security Corporation]

Reception Room,
Rajah’s Palace,
Mavala, Jaragupta
Five Days Before the Sinking of the Honshu and Air Battles Over The Wishton Sea

Palace staff led the foreign delegation through the halls to the main reception room. They offered the lead contractor and his staff beverages and promised that the Rajah and other meeting attendees would be along momentarily. After directing them to seats, they left them to enjoy the room and snuck out a side door that looked to be part of the wall.

The room was splendorous, as befitting a king of an island kingdom. Windows looked out onto the gardens and groves of palms and the buildings of Mavala beyond in the distance. Ornate chairs with gold trim and red velvet upholstery were arrayed around the room, interspersed by empty small side tables and shelves holding plants and statuettes.

Colonel Danny Archer, Corey Shaw and Harrold Green accepted their coffee from the staff. When it arrived, it's wonderful steaming aroma filling the atmosphere of the room. Beverages in hand, the three suit clad men took in their surroundings carefully. Every possible entrance and exit point was identified, including doors, the possible secret wall entries, windows and even the ceiling. The exterior also received a glance - could someone see inside from the outside? If so, from how far? Where could a gunman hide if he wanted to? The luxurious interior of the room they currently enjoyed their beverages within was also quickly observed. A lot of hiding places for hidden cameras or listening devices, or even an IED or two. All three men came to pretty much the same conclusions without a word being said amongst them. Old habits die hard.

Although the coffee and surroundings were pleasurable, the three men standing around idly for now were not here as tourists, they were here for business. The men had many factors in common - chief amongst them - they were all here on behalf of Myrmidon Security Services, in an effort to clinch the biggest contract in the young company's history.

Colonel (Ret) Danny Archer is the founder and sole owner of the company and came all the way to this tropical shithole to ensure that the contract was clinched and that he was not sending his employees to their certain deaths. Although everyone employed within the company's main objective was to make a ton of cash, they all would prefer to spend said cash whilst still alive. Besides, most of these employees were not just employees - they were brothers in arms, as most of these men served alongside the Colonel in the Port Ember Security Forces, Task Force 79 - the legendary special forces unit of the Republic of Port Ember.

The second suit-clad man straightened his bright red tie whilst clearing his throat. He glanced over to the Colonel before shooting him a whisper "Rajah.. That's like a king-like title yeah?" The Colonel responded only with a soft nod.

This man stood 1.82 meters tall and did not have an ounce of fat hidden beneath his neat black suit. His body was hard as marble, although he did not possess any 'flashy bodybuilder' muscles. His body was sculpted by years of hard work and a spartan lifestyle, not by the gym and protein shakes. This man is known as Corey Shaw, and is the team leader of the incoming VIP team, who will be accepting the contract to protect the life of the Rajah at any and all costs. Corey was by far one of the most respected men in the employ of Myrmidon, all due to his reputation gained during his long service in the Port Emberian Task Force 79, earning a captain's rank and 5 various bravery medals before following the Colonel out the door into the private world.

The third man added his response once the Colonel nodded - "So King hey?" He scoffed slightly, as the notion of nobility was often a mocked concept amongst Port Emberians. "So on greeting, we curtsy? Or bow? Or sacrifice a fetus?" Many people easily underestimated the 1.75 meter short Harrold Green who was built like a brick wall, probably due to his length, and definitely to his almost constant casual and joking personality. Underestimating him however was always a mistake, as he was one of the most experienced and decorated warriors bred from the Task Force 79 forges. Similar to his colleague, he has also earned his captain rank and 4 bravery medals during his service. Coincidently, he was the chosen 'Palace Guard' commander for the upcoming contract - and despite his joker antics, there could not have been a better choice.

The Colonel cocked his eyebrow slightly in response, which gave Harrold a clear hint to pause his joking antics with immediate effect. He complied. The Colonel finally responded, and even though he basically whispered, it was clear that he held a deep and authoritative voice, "One of the servants will probably inform us the right way in which to greet the Old Man, and ye fuckers will comply with that - with a smile and a feeling of gratitude no less. And if they don't tell us - ye will greet him like ye would greet yer pops." The two men both responded with a respectful nod. As the three men knew each other for more than ten years, they were very informal with each other, but the two younger men knew when it was time to shut up and do what they were told. The Colonel was a brilliant man and a great leader, friend and father figure. But he still held onto that legendary dragon temper which no one would ever want to have unleashed.

As the three men finished their beverages, they continued to wait for their opportunity to meet the Rajah, small pearls of sweat started to develop on their foreheads - the hot and humid tropical weather of the island made sure of that. Luckily for the three, it was manageable, seeing that they all hailed from Port Ember - a tropical island as well.

The fourth man representing Myrmidon was not present at the palace, but was instead en route to visit the local Intexa contact, in order to enquire about the possibility of recruiting a few local 'eyes and ears' on the ground. Both he and the Colonel knew that it doesn't matter if you have the best trained operators equipped with the best available weaponry if you have no fresh and reliable intel. Its like swinging a sword around in the dark - pointless. Unlike the majority of the Myrmidon Security Services, Garry Weston was not an ex Task Force 79 operator himself, instead his skills and mind was forged in the Port Emberian Secret Service, where he discovered and honed his talent for rooting out potential threats to the President before they could be attempted. Garry would spend the next few months in-country in semi secret whilst attempting to construct an intelligence network to aid his company's efforts.

The side door opened once again, and a buxomy, smiling Latina female of average height exited. She wore a blazer over a cream blouse and black business skirt. Her shoulder length dark hair was put back in a pony tail, although she sometimes wore it loose, depending on the situation. She headed directly towards the men. Two more people came out but ignored the Port Emberians altogether. They carried equipment and began to scan around the room with it, looking for any devices.

“Hello! I’m Graciela Nacimiento with Intexa, the support arm of the USGSC…” She noticed their attention on the bug sweepers. “This room normally gets swept, but there’s reason for extra precaution and an extra sweep, which you’ll understand more in a few minutes...Anyway, I’m with the contracting department of Intexa. I have heard and read a lot about Myrmidon and I’m excited that we’re going to be working with you on a contract. I suppose it was inevitable now that you are Guild partners that we would be able to utilize your very esteemed skills for…”

She was interrupted as the same door opened one more time. Two palace staffers were followed a moment later by the Rajah himself. There was no mistaking him for anyone else with his satin, traditional royal clothes and bejeweled turban on his head. It was highly unusual for him to not make a grand entrance, but it was in keeping with the extra discreet precautions. Normally he would be announced, but the palace staffers remained silent.

Nacimiento bowed,
“Your highness. I was just making introductions.”

He smiled a slight smile back as he came even with the foreigners.
“Carry on, Ms. Nacimiento.”

The Colonel only smiled softly at Graciela as it was clear that there was no time to return the warm welcome for now, before quickly following her example and offered a soft bow to the Rajah, luckily easily performed since all three men rose from their seats as Ms. Nacimiento entered the room.
”Your Highness. Please allow me to introduce myself and my team.. I am Colonel Archer, founder and CEO of Myrmidon Security Solutions. These two esteemed gentleman at my side are Mister Shaw - the finest of my company's Close Protection Operator team leaders, and finally Mister Green - the finest of my Physical Protection team leaders. I want to humbly thank you for allowing us into your wonderful nation, and offering us a moment of your valuable time." Both remaining men followed suit by offering a soft bow as they were introduced.

The Rajah smiled and nodded.
“Colonel, Mister Shaw, Mister Green...A pleasure. Ms. Nacimiento, let’s move over to this sitting parlor…” He steered them towards one end of the reception room, which had chairs arrayed around a low table on top of an ornate Jaraguptan rug.
“...Please. Bring your drinks. Let us sit so we can focus our attention on each other and our words.”
His annunciation was noticeably precise, but odd. Typical for one with little contact with the common people.

“Quite.” Graciela followed, finding a seat that was an appropriate distance from the Rajah. She had a large leather bound bag, of which she had slung the strap over her shoulder. She now put beside the chair leg and had it open, ready to pull items from.

The Rajah spoke again.
“I’m going to just listen now, unless you have an urgent question for me. I think Ms. Nacimiento should be able to cover everything from here on.” He waved an encouraging hand at her.

When the Myrmidon contractors had found their seats, Gracie passed a flash drive and some papers in triplicate to the closest of them, to pass on.
“These will be necessary. The flash drive for later, and the papers, a set for each of you... For now, just to help outline points for our brief.”

Once the three men were seated comfortably, they started flipping through the file while still paying attention to the conversation. The flash drives found their way into each respective breast pocket. Both Corey Shaw and Harrold Green whipped out a pen and a small black pocket book in which to scribble down any personal notes.

“So...some things you might have noticed. Jaragupta is on the edge of full war with ISVC ships off shore and more closing in, in the form of a mini-fleet. ISVC being the International Socialist Volunteer Corps, the military wing of the International Socialist Congress - a multinational organization determined to bring socialist revolution to the world. Things are hot here right now. Same said ISVC is suspected of already having agents here in the Kingdom, stirring up the Sikh minority, the Hamikh people of Jaragupta. The Marxist rebels we’re sure they support are formed under the banner of the Hamikh Democratic Liberation Front. There is a second faction of Hamikhs that are less numerous, but still potent, called the Hamikh National Liberation Army. They are not Marxist based and have actually clashed on many occasions with the HDLF. They are strictly a nationalist Hamikh based group, but they can’t be ruled out and they could work with the HDLF in the coming conflict.

While the Hamikh insurgency is a prime concern for your upcoming contract, that is not the reason for all the discretion. The Rajah doesn’t often travel outside the capital here. Under our recommendations, he probably won’t be traveling again, at least for a long time. The Hamikhs are far to the south and east of here, as is most of the current trouble stirred up by Marxist agents.”
She held up a tablet she had pulled from the satchel that had the map of the Kingdom displayed on it. The areas of Hamikh ethnic groupings were highlighted in yellow, and the recent bombings, assassinations, firefights and other events were overlayed in red bursts. There were a lot of red flares around Mehatar, Suraksha and Pradhaan.
She continued on.
“...There is a strong faction within the Tamar community, of which the royal Prabhunadabaj family is a part, that feels the Rajah and his government have not done enough to keep the Hamikhs in check.

The fear is, that the very body that is meant to guard the Rajah and his family, the Shahi Rhakavali, or Royal Guard, is riddled with those who sympathize with that faction. That the Commander of the Shahi Rhakavali, General Uraban Halaganda, himself, is in the pocket of these people. Hence these precautions today…

The Royal Guard know you’re here and that you are Guild contractors, but not the exact nature of your sub-contract. They will find that out soon enough, but by then, there will be nothing they can do about it. We will do what we can to protect you... the USG, the Intexa, and the rest of the Guild. You in turn will protect the Rajah and his family from all takers...HDLF, HNLA, ISVC saboteurs, the Royal Guard and any dissatisfied coup plotters in the JRA officer corps. Should a full coup go into effect, the other Guild forces, including our USG, will try to snap into action, but we will have our hands full likely with repelling both HDLF and ISVC forces. Which is why Myrmidon needs to be the frontline when it comes to the protection of the Jaraguptan royal house. This is no run of the mill close protection gig. I can answer any questions you might have, numbers and figures, but...do you think you are even up for this?”

The Colonel nodded softly at the appropriate times without saying a word, listening attentively. As Graciela finished speaking, the Colonel flashed a faint smile before responding.
"Miss Nacimiento I certainly understand and even appreciate your concern, especially since its true as you say - this is no run of the mill protection gig. However you must understand that Myrmidon is not a run of the mill protection provider either. I assure you that my employees have not only received arguably the best training in the world, but in addition each and every one of them have gained significant real life combat experience. A young company like mine lives and dies on reputation. If I did not believe without a doubt that we could do this, I would not have been sitting here.
Now as for your questions, the royal family consists out of how many members, and if there are children where do they attend school?”

Gracie did her best not to roll her eyes at the Colonel’s response. It was typical for top tier private operators to claim they were the best trained operators on the map. That went for the USGSC troopers in her own organization, too. who were ready to throw out the tough lines when it seemed appropriate. It was understandable and typical to get that mix of bravado, machismo and sales pitch from all these types. To some degree it was earned, although claiming you were the best ever could be a little bit of a stretch when any operators with top notch training would act the same in given situations.

“First of all, let’s realistically assess the situation. That’s a substantial list of hostile forces that want to see your potential client out of the picture. You are looking at an internal coup that could happen simultaneously with an invasion to back a strong insurgency to topple this government and slaughter every high ranking Tamar they can get their hands on. Acknowledge all that and move on. I don’t need to be sold on your skills. The Intexa wouldn’t have you here if we questioned them. Moving on...
There are 22 members of the royal family, including the Rajah’s mother and great aunt, 4 siblings of the Rajah and their spouses and children, and the Ranee (Queen). The children are all tutored within the palace. It’s just not safe for them to travel outside the palatial estate, nor do most of the rest of the family. Many of their needs are catered to within the Palace. To see them outside of the Palace, and more so outside Mavala, is quite a rarity.”

The Colonel flashed a very discreet smiled and something which might resemble the very beginning of a laugh escaped his lips, but stifled immediately. He skipped a beat before continuing,
“To be fair Ms Nacimiento, I know this is not a dick measuring competition. I only answered a question which you posed in the most honest manner possible. That aside...”

She frowned, then slightly angled her head at the Rajah, along with shifting her eyes to him to indicate that more decorum should be used in the room. The Rajah, in turn, gave a small smile at the awkwardness, but didn’t seem that perturbed.
“Nice. Very nice. Let’s agree to disagree, Colonel. I asked you to acknowledge the obstacles in your way and you insist on the machismo. I will ask you again. Do you want to prove a point or do you want to ink a very generous sub-contract commensurate to current industry standards?”

The Colonel observed the body language between Gracie and the Rajah, and concluded that this was a fight not worth fighting and had to bite his tongue on this matter, by simply responding with a slightly larger but still discreet smile, before speaking in a friendly tone, "Point taken Ma’am. I will then refer to your original question and simply respond that we are indeed comfortable with taking up this contract.." He let a beat pass.
“Once I take charge of the protection of His Excellency and this residence, will any of the Royal Guard units remain on premises?”

“They will remain.”

“What is the strength of the Royal Guard unit within this premises and within close proximity? And more importantly, do you have an idea of the percentage of these forces who remain loyal to His Excellency? And what are the plans regarding the traitor General?”

She nodded. They were back on track.
“Two full companies are rotated out every couple months. The rest are used in the enforcement of royal policies out in the major metro areas. They are most active here in the Mavala area. To dismiss the Shahi Rhakavali now would cause an instant coup instead of just a potential one. It’s just not the time for that. Not with the ISVC and their HDLF stooges knocking on the door. As for General Uraban, he hasn’t proven himself a traitor...yet. He might be soon enough, or maybe your presence will be enough to keep him in line...Or he was never going to revolt to begin with. Who’s loyal in the Royal Guard? Well, if we could figure that out, it wouldn’t be such an issue. Their official ranks are about 3 battalions or approximately 2,500 men. There are certainly more officers and enlisted in the JRA which they could count on to back them.”

“In case of a full scale attack, we can protect our charge and his - but an extraction plan will be needed. Where is the backup safehouse and is there a transport plan in place? Also in such a scenario is there an air defence plan in place?”

“There are some underground chambers under the palace...some leading out to other government buildings. An established safehouse? No. Possible safe havens in the northwest, where the most loyal Tamars live and the most prosperous have estates that can be defended. There has been air defense all along. The Jaraguptan military is still functioning. The Guild air support is also still here. They will not forget our client. We just need you to be the last line, or the trip wire, as you will before anyone can lay hands directly on the Royal family. The USG can step in when needed and Blackwood, SSI, and the Varangian Guard can fill in on the front lines where we can’t. Training of the JRA has come along and they are working well with Guild forces. We can shift pretty effortlessly. We can send QRFs where and when needed. Was there anything else?”

The Colonel did not respond immediately, instead glancing at the two men seated to his side, who were still writing furiously within their pocketbooks. Both men simultaneously broke their glances from their notes and looked to meet the Colonel's gaze and simply shook their heads. The Colonel returned his gaze to Gracie and replied "No ma’am. I believe we have all the intel we needed. We will need to discuss some logistical matters, but I do not wish to waste the time of His Excellency with such frivolous matters."

She nodded, preparing for her closing spiel.
“Very well then...I think you’ll find a lot of logistical details are on that flash drive I handed over. The USGSC, as the main contractor and go-between will collect a commission/finder’s fee, just as we’re doing with the other Guild sub-contractors I mentioned. Both the client royal family and the USGSC have the right to terminate the contract should we feel the terms are not being adhered to or broken. We have already done it here once with a certain sub-contractor who not only got booted from the Island, but is no longer a member of the Guild due to their collective conduct here over the last couple months. I’m not trying to sound menacing, but that’s just a fact. You know how it is, being in this industry. Delegating to sub-contractors can sometimes go wrong. I don’t think that will be the case here, but I’m required to inform you by my boss, Director Xavier Marchand.
Should everything be to your satisfaction and you meant what you said earlier about your team’s dedication, you can ink the contract now and leave it with Majordomo Ujakalaran there…” She indicated one of the Palace staff who had remained in the immediate area in the Reception Room. Majordomo Ujakalaran was no hulk, but he was not by any definition frail either. He seemed able to handle himself in a fight. Gracie then pulled out the official stack of contract paperwork, covered in a plastic jacket, and handed it over.

“He will send it over to the Intexa staff staying here. Merlin is the Intexa Station Chief here on Jaragupta. He will be in touch soon. Any addendums to the contract, Colonel Archer, including approval of personnel increases and associated additional fees, can go through Merlin. Otherwise, you can fax the contract or scan and email it to my contact information I have provided you. You can also email me with any follow up questions, or call. I will answer you promptly.”
She waited until the Rajah stood up, then she did so quickly.
“Gentlemen. Your Highness. I have a plane to catch. Are we good here?”

The Colonel listened attentively in silence as Gracie concluded the meeting. What she said made sense after all, and he respected the Guild's tough stance to sub contractors. This industry held no room to spare people's feelings. Lives were at stake after all. Literally that is. As the Colonel and his two right hand men rose in respect of the Rajah and their female contact, he took the contract in hand. He noticed that his two operators were busy visually analysing the introduced Majordomo. The Colonel turned to Gracie, "Ma'am I accept the contract. Mister Shaw and Mister Green will remain in-country to lay the foundation for their incoming teams whilst I fly back home. The contract itself will be emailed once I get my lawyer to glance it over. Whilst I trust your company, one must always be carefull. A single fine print sentence can cause more harm than a hundred armed insurgents.." Colonel Archer turned to the Rajah, "Your Majesty, I am honoured by the fact that you took the time to meet us. Humble gratitude!" The Colonel bowed respectfully to the Rajah before again turning to Gracie, "Indeed we are done. I'll walk with you."

The Rajah nodded acknowledgment, then left with his staff back through the hidden side door while others came in to clear cups and reset the Reception Room. The Majordomo followed the foreigners out.

[Co-RP'd with Port Ember and Jaragupta]

---

Tuzarkha, Jaragupta
Days Later
Post Sinking of the Honshu

They were brought into a facility near Tuzarkha, just off the coast. Boatload after boatload of rescued Pan-Asian sailors and officers from the sunken carrier Honshu. Many of them first had a stay on Pahiya, one of the tiny Eastern outlying islands that, much like the propaganda of the People’s Federation about those islands, was in fact, actually a barren wasteland that had been left naked of trees and heavily mined for its guano. Rescue boats dumped them there first in order to quickly head back out and get more of the Pan Asiatic naval crew. Sharks were a growing concern as crew members who had survived the explosions and drowning were now finding that the local Selachimorpha population were ravenous. The rescue boat crews worked as fast as they could. The Pan-Asiatic sailors may turn out to be the enemy, but no one deserved that fate.

The Asian sailors of the Honshu were a mixed congregation, as in any branch of the military: of every legal age and every walk of life. Most were simply swept-up in the army draft. Some were career officers. Others were pressured by their fathers who had fought in previous conflicts, and found a home in the Navy’s rigorous, mechanical programme.

The rescued were kept a few hours on the tiny, chalky, flat rock that was Pahiya in a makeshift pen of coiled barbed wire, under guard of Jaraguptan marines. They were then loaded onto the ferry boats that would take them to their next destination. When they arrived at the docks they were immediately herded onto trucks or ambulances, depending on the kind of care needed. The trucks drove a short distance to the location of a government compound south of Tuzarkha that had once been a rations warehouse but had since been emptied out. The Intexa had improved on it in some key areas to turn it into a passable detention and interrogation center. There, they were let off trucks in a chain link fenced in yard and told to line up. The Asians looked helplessly toward the despicable foes with raging irritation, before inevitably cooperating. Each sharp glare seemed to scream blame at both the Jaraguptans and their own selves, for the sinking of the prized ship.

A Jaraguptan Royal Army officer of Lieutenant’s rank sat next to a white man in fatigues with no rank or unit patches visible.
The white man, an Intexa intel and translation officer, asked them a few brief questions, first in English, then, if that produced no results, in a few Asian languages: Mandarin, Malay, Korean, Tagalog, and Japanese.

“What is your name? What is your rank? What is your job? Where are you from?”

Primarily, the captured were in a state of shock upon confrontation by their captors. For many months, the Ministry of State and Public Security’s propaganda and agitation arm had foretold of the insurmountable military might of the Asian Navy in distant places like Skyhooked. The threat of incarceration, to the sailors who were only informed of their objective weeks after they had already gotten to the maritime vicinity of the archipelago-nation, was simply unthinkable. The months of meticulous intelligence work, living-off meager supplies and abstaining from communication with loved ones, had broken the will of those whose time with the armed forces had been sour and short hitherto. First to cooperate were the custodians, maintenance crew, lower-ranked seamen, and a handful of the airmen.

“Vojavona Loi. Seaman-at-Arms. I’m the head of the security detail at Station 3A. I was conscripted from Dili. I want to be assured of the safety of my men before I comply with further questioning.”

“Yaacob bin Kesuma. Aspirant. What’s an Aspirant? My apologies. I suppose in traditional military terms, I would be referred to as a ‘Private’. I’m with the Special Communications Div- wait, no, I’m not allowed to… I-I’m a radio officer. From Jakarta.”

“Yabuta Tsuramatsu. No, no - that’s not how you write that. Yabuta is my surname. I’m an airman. Yellow Group Five. Neo-Tokyo.”

“I answer to no-one but my commanding officer and the Secretary-General. Do not test me, Jaragupta-- Ah! Fuck! That hurt! Alright, alright!”

The intel officer recorded the responses on a GXT Schwyz electronic tablet with a combat shell cover, letting the voice record to text and editing with the keyboard as needed. If any of the detainees managed to slap the tablet out of his hand, he would simply pick it up and start over. The GXT could be thrown against a wall repeatedly to no effect.

Some became combative; the guards got them under control, and pushed or escorted them to the JRA LT who would fish a bright neon band out of a box and attach it to the right wrist with a plastic locking mechanism on the underside of the band. Once locked in place, it was impossible to remove without severely tearing up one’s fingers in the process.

Each band had a visible number and an embedded microchip for scanning. Whether the detainee was cooperative or not, the number was recorded for their entry in the GXT tablet. A simple click, then a scan of the microchip and the identifier number was recorded next to their entry. For some, they only had a number.

Identified officers and top NCOs got a neon green band, while confirmed enlisted and lower ranked NCOs got an orange band. ‘Others’, aka non-identifiables, got a neon yellow band. Officers were separated from the enlisted and others to put in a separate walled off area.

In both sections of the open part of the facility, JRA soldiers handed out blankets and bottled water to whoever needed them. The Jaraguptans certainly didn’t seem happy at their task, but they weren’t hostile either. Bored and curious would be the best way to describe them. An Intexa medical crew went around to those who looked to need the most immediate care. Non-mobile injured, shark bitten, and near dying had been brought to a nearby medical facility for care, but also under guard.

Hiding among those given a neon yellow band was “Kapitana” Loun Visna, commander of the Honshu, a middle-aged tan-skinned well-constituted woman with squinted eyes, greying hair, and a soft-spoken accent often attributed to those who lived on the border between the Pan-Asiatic provinces of Laos and Cambodia. She had ridden herself of anything that could identify her as a high-ranking officer. She merely looked on helplessly as her unruly comrades suffered at the hands of Jaraguptan personnel.

Watching from the other side of the fence was Merlin, the chief Intexa officer in charge of the Guild intelligence mission in Jaragupta. He noted the defiance, the shock, and the bewilderment of the Pan-Asiatic sailors and crew of the Honshu. It was a big loss for the People’s Federation and he was sure that, although it had made their official newswires, it would soon be buried and not make it into their history books in the long term.

Crane, his associate officer, stood by his side and they conferred. Who to interrogate first? He had ideas as he watched, but they didn’t have a lot of time for wrong guesses with the ISVN fleet off the coast. Rather than go down dead ends in questioning, they would pick away at the easier officer and NCO detainees that seemed to be cracking already. There were quite a few of them. They would lead to the higher ups who were hiding in the throngs in there. The lower ranked would be left to the JRA client teams, which he would then review to see if there were any worth grilling in more depth.

Crane looked at his tablet that was getting consistent instant updates from their colleague, Peregrin, on the other side of the fence.
“Well, boss, it looks like more of their officers and top NCOs are cooperating than we first might have assumed.”

“Unless they’re lying.”

“True. It’s possible. In any case, we don’t have a lot of time. Reports coming in are that Gaulic and ISVC jets are already tangling off the coast. So far, it hasn’t gone hot.”

“Hmmm. Have we informed Colonel Cogant?”

“He knows.”

“Well, then we better get this show on the road...Might be a moot point if they start landing, but again, on the other hand...Might offer up some key intel on the ISVC plans.”
Merlin tipped the tablet down towards his eyes, but left it in Crane’s hands. He scrolled the screen slowly, then stopped it. He pointed to a name: Yaacob bin Kesuma

“That one. I want to start with him. Seems like he was gabby enough on the prelim. He let slip his tasking there. Good start to cut our teeth on to get some deets on the rest. Yeah, that mouthy boy will work.”

“I will get him rounded up, boss.”

They headed in to one of the converted offices off the main divided floor.

---

Peregrin and his Jaraguptan counterpart were finishing up with the last few arrivals to the facility. Word was they might have one more truckload on the way. More trucks would be loaded up with recovered bodies to go to a makeshift morgue. The bodies would be searched for documents or any other helpful items, then prepared in body bags. If all kept calm, they would be shipped back to the Pan-Asiatic States soon enough. If full on war broke out, there might be a delay in getting them back to their homeland.

Other debris fished out of the Wishton was being combed over in yet another facility for any information or technical secrets that could be gleaned. Had it been left up to the Jaraguptans alone, a lot of the wreckage and bodies would have been left to be lost to the tides and the deep, maybe some of it eventually washing ashore. Eventually they would have gotten around to collecting up the flotsam. The Intexa, the support arm of the USG Security Corporation, and on such contracts as this, the Guild as well, were absolutely professional and thorough, and nothing was left up to such chance. They were on their JRA counterparts as if they were chained at the hips.

A few minutes after his conversation with Merlin, Crane led the way, with two guards and a JRA military intel officer trailing, into the section of the old warehouse that held the orange banded ‘guests’. He looked over the faces of the Asian men and women as they sauntered in. He had a scanner in his hand and waved it over the wrists of some of the enlisted sailors and crew until it beeped on one. The cordon of one Intexa man and 3 Jaraguptans stopped.
“You.” The JRA Captain pointed. They turned and faced the Asian sailor. Crane glanced down at the scanner once more. “Aspirant...Kesuma. We need you to follow us.”

Yaacob fell silent, sweat dripping from the temple of his head, his heart racing rapidly. He knew that his slip-up would not be ignored by the enemy, but had nonetheless hoped that they might. After all, to hope was all he had left.

Yaacob obediently followed the Captain, remaining nervous about his isolation from the rest of the group. Passing by the other captives, he quietly gave the more resistant sailors a darting glare and a sideways nod, almost as if to imply that a fight wasn’t worth it. Being well-respected among the crew, his will was done. As time passed, the Asian sailors became less and less physical in their defiance of their captors. Their rage melted into a deafening gloom. Nobody knew what horrors awaited next.

Crane noted the looks that Yaacob was sharing with his fellow sailors he passed. It gave away volumes, and was having the added benefit of bringing some tranquility to the facility. They entered a hallway past two JRA guards and walked past two doors. Merlin stood outside the third one. A one way glass looked into the room. Crane nodded and the JRA Lieutenant led Yaacob into the room, followed by one guard. Crane stayed outside and began to talk to Merlin.

---

Word had gone out to all the USG units on the island. Any and probably all Asian nationals were needed in the Eastern sector. About three dozen reported to their superiors, who sent them up the chain. Of those, half had met the language requirements needed. A few, despite meeting the requirements, were too important to spare for this special task, like the pilots. USG and JRAF transport helicopters picked them up from their various FOBs to speed them off to Tuzarkha. Of those 15, three were actual refugees, or second generation nationals from the Pan-Asiatic States.
Aboard the last bird were five of these hand picked USG troopers: Tech Sergeant Sung Ji-Sook, Lieutenant Saming Chavasupaswarak, Corporal Shao Yi Cheng, Radioman Hokama Kyoji, and Captain Laurana Magbanua.

Seeing that she was the senior officer of this ad hoc squad, Captain Magbanua was already mentally taking charge as they were mid-air over the jungle. Then they were on a controlled drop to the landing pad. Intexa staff waved them on and to a waiting building from the helipad.
She didn’t need to give unnecessary instruction, however, as every USG trooper was the utmost professional, usually with many years of service before working for the private company. They ducked low and made the dash over.

The first group had been waiting just over an hour and seemed quite impatient. An Intexa staffer in plain, unmarked fatigues began speaking almost as soon as they were in the hut. He had a very Latin appearance.
“Thanks for coming on short notice. I’m Condor. Merlin will debrief you when you get to the staging hut outside the detention facility. We are processing dozens of Pan-Asian sailors and crew rescued from their sunken carrier and we need your translation services…” He scanned over them and then locked on to Magbanua’s Captain tabs, “...Looks like you’re in charge of this group, Captain.”

“Terrific.” She said a tad sarcastically to some chuckles from the group. As Condor continued to address them, she looked over them as well. It had been some time since she had been surrounded by this many soldiers of her own race, but other than Condor, it was solidly a room of South and East Asian faces in several tones, none of them pinkish pale.

Radioman Hokama Kyoji slowly shook his head. He had been born in Neo-Tokyo, New Japan aka The Japanese Soviet Socialist Republic of the Pan-Asiatic States. His family had fled there when he was just a small child for reasons he still didn’t understand, and settled in nearby The Neo Japanese States, where he’d grown up, then served in their military. He was told he had slight traces of a Neo-Tokyo accent when he spoke Japanese, passed on from his parents, but he hoped it wasn’t noticeable to the Japanese Pan-Asians, or it might cause an issue.
“Fuck me! This is going to be strange.”

---

Meanwhile, the JRA officer motioned for Yaacob to take a chair as they shut the door. It was the only piece of furniture in the room and it was made of hard plastic, much like a patio or pool chair. If Yaacob tried to assault someone with it, he would only anger them and possibly break the chair.

As Yaacob took his chair, the JRA officer and guard went to the opposite walls and stood there waiting and silent.
In a few moments, Merlin and Crane walked in. Crane was significantly taller than Merlin, but the shorter man looked determined. He stood in front of Yaacob, but just out of kicking range with years of practice informing him of where to stand. He held one of the GXT e-tablets in one hand.

“So...Aspirant Kesuma...Yaacob...Welcome. I am sorry that you have had such a traumatic time here in Jaragupta so far. I should let you know that you are not a prisoner here. You are our guest. Our clients, the Jaraguptan government, are merely enforcing a quarantine on you and your comrades due to a possible contaminant you have brought to the islands. My name is Merlin and this is Crane. While you’re staying here, we’d like to ask you a few questions. Okay? Excellent…” He continued to charge on, not waiting for a reply, “...So...What was your vessel’s ultimate mission here in Jaragupta?”

The Aspirant could well see through his captors’ “hospitality”. He knew that if the ISVC were to attack, as had been rumored in the military at the time of the sinking, he and his fellow crewmen would be taken as political hostages. Escape was futile too. Nevertheless, they had strict orders on what to reveal in the event of capture - most sailors on board were intentionally ill-informed of the true nature of the mission as to prevent slip-ups.

That is of course, except Kesuma, who knew the whole truth of the operation. But instead of downright forsaking everything they worked for, he settled on a bluff.

“I expect my government has already told the world at this time. The People's Maritime Army of the Pan-Asiatic States Armed Forces was conducting routine training in the Northeast Wishton Sea as part of a classified initiative with the government of The Cardwith Islands to build-up the carrier strike group (CSG) tactics of both our countries. The Honshu merely drifted and lost all contact with the main fleet… You know the rest.”

The diminutive New Edomite born Intexa officer known as Merlin smiled.
“Interesting. Well...We know some things. For instance, if your carrier was conducting training exercises with the Cardwithians and other vessels of the Pan-Asiatic States Maritime Army, you were indeed quite lost as, at the time of the Honshu’s sinking, it was several hundred kilometers from the nearest Cardwithian vessel and probably even twice that from the nearest of your own fellow Pan-Asian vessels. That is a...hmmm...mighty peculiar exercise.”
He didn’t feel the need to mention that both nations, as well as several other ISC nations, now had vessels extremely close and lurking in striking distance not far off Jaraguptan shores, unlike in the hours when the pirates hit the PAS carrier. Whether Kesuma knew that or not was irrelevant at the moment.
“But...you said your ship was ‘lost’. Let’s put that aside for now, whether I believe it or not. Your job was...communications? That’s what you told my colleague earlier. So were you communicating with these other vessels in the ISVN invasion force? Excuse me…’Joint CSG training’ vessels?”

“Radio officer. Officially, I’m an Aspirant First-Class of the People’s Peacekeeping Army. Military service number 579-76-9208. That’s all I’ve b-been authorized to tell you,” stated Kesuma. “...But I’m willing to tell you more,” he continued, clearly preempting a request - or a demand.

“Before that however,” he imperatively muttered, “I want to know whether you will be in full compliance with the conventions on w-war. I want to be guaranteed of the safety of my men.”

Mere moments after saying that, it struck the Aspirant that there had been no declaration of war. Thus, they couldn’t be treated as prisoners of war by international law. He and his men were doomed. Kesuma took a big gulp of his own spit, and leaned back unto his chair.

Merlin smiled as he paused from a small bit of pacing that he’d been doing while waiting on Kesuma to process his thoughts.He stopped in front of the Aspirant.
“That’s a bold demand, Aspirant Kesuma. I understand your position and admire you for sticking up for your comrades in the face of perceived danger..But as we said before, you’re not prisoners here and the danger is over. There is no state of war between the Kingdom and the People’s Federation. You are all merely guests that have been quarantined until the doctors from the Jaraguptan Health Service can clear you and make sure that you are free of any viral or bacterial contaminants. As soon as the quarantine is over, we’ll find some more comfortable accommodations and get all of you sent home.”

Health services. Kesuma now had reason to believe both sides were capable of bluffing.

Merlin bowed his head a bit,
“It’s unfortunate, but we weren’t able to save all your comrades from the pirate attack and wounds suffered from that, from drowning, or from the sharks. Our Jaraguptan friends did what they could in the short time we had to rescue all your crew mates. You survived. You are safe. All we need is a bit of information to help us through the process and get you home quickly. Can you help us out with that?”

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[Co-RP’d with Pan-Asiatic States and Jaragupta]

[USG Security Corporation]

Mehatar

All three USG FABs, including Chital near Prakaran, were flying CAPs in support of JRAF parallel flights, in preparation for ISVC forces who were right off the coast. Shrikes and Tannan fighters were ready to fight off enemy air, or to aid in ground support missions. LIRCAS light turbo props were also gearing up for ground support missions against HDLF cells that were rising up everywhere in both big attacks and small ambushes across the east and south.

That left the Guild choppers and VTOLs in the air in support of the relief flight for the Mehatar garrison. USG owned Sankian made IHU-51 Iron Eagle helos had taken off from the Panther FAB near Mavala, to be escorted by Jailpuran manufactured AT-77 Fox VTOL gunships out of the Bengal FAB closer to Mehatar. They were also joined by a collection of SSI Kiowas and Mil Mi-24VMs that would both support the landing and drop some of the Guild teams.

One of the AT-77 VTOL aircraft was configured for transport rather than as a gunship. Rather than troops, it was filled entirely with beer and supplies. But mostly beer. The USG had a long standing contract with Terembev, the large beverage conglomerate and distributor, to supply their beverages for all contracts. Even in muslim client nations, they found a way to work around local sharia laws to bring in the booze and brews. Jaragupta had no such restrictions, but beer, and really any alcohol was not a large part of their culture, as tea was the most popular beverage.

The USG teams had picked over this shipment, taking most of what they liked first, mainly Burgunden Breus, but had left some of the foreign brands and lighter lagers and pilsners for the Falkasian mercs of the Varangian Guard. They especially might find interesting the cases of Tabrik, Gragastavian beer that Terembev distributed. Neu Engollians generally couldn’t stomach it, but were sure that the Falkies would have some nostalgia over it.

The first Iron Eagle carried ‘Merchant Team’, a group pulled from the USG’s 1st GRCT Company, from multiple squads and platoons. They were led by Lt. Ibrahim ‘Ibe’ Nkume, a hardened vet who had done national service in the Nigerian 72nd SF Bn before joining the USG.

On board the second Iron Eagle helo sat Captain Geirmund Olsen and his team: Dave Coleman, Gene Rothas, Jermaine Albemarle, Vasily Borodin, Gus Weidenmann, Chuck Horowitz, Dev Lagudenji, Alex Scherbina, Steve Gallaper, and Kiril Kalash. Olsen was sure he couldn’t have a better team. Currently, they were strapped with the usual collection of FAR-22Cs, NEG-26s and SG 553s that were the popular issue ARs for the USGSC. All USG ARs were chambered for the same 7.62mm x 39mm rounds for battlefield compatibility. The Gaul NCO, Albemarle, carried a Sankian made Breakdown MMG, the issue SAW for USGSC teams.


These guys were some top hitters pulled from across the 2nd GRCT Company. Their team went by the handle of ‘Banshee Team’.
Olsen had never seen a team gel as fast as this one had over this contract, and one of their bonding factors was that not one of them was a native Neu Engollian, which even still, was a rarity in today’s USGSC. Captain Olsen himself was an ‘Estrausla’ (Frandit word for foreigner). There weren’t too many Hawkwickians on this side of the world, so he did his best to represent.

They had been working river patrols on the Tamanna, interdicting the HDLF supply lines with some success. Then they had been sent in during what was now being called the Battle for Mulayam Pathar Ridge, but by the time their unit had arrived, the enemy was already on the run into the Danjarits. Banshee was happy to hunt down the rebels.

There had been a brief lull in major action, during which time a propaganda war had been fought by both sides, but now, that lull was over. The nation had been engulfed as the HDLF did their best to put a torch to everything and keep Jaraguptan and Guild troops busy ahead of the ISVC arrival. All this weighed on Banshee team as they swooped in over the rooftops of the largest Hamikh city in the country.

While things were tense in SSI’s sector, they had gotten off relatively easy compared to many of their counterparts across the island. Suraksha and its surrounding sector were tense, but there had been a distinct lack of shooting so far. The Shalumite operators there had been able to do their original job more or less as usual, though they had ramped up security at various checkpoints across the city. It wasn’t so much a question of if an incident would occur as it was a question of when it would.

When the call had gone out for reinforcements, Colonel Mayer had been quick to volunteer some of his own people. Scrounging up a few helicopters and a battle ready squad had only taken the better part of fifteen minutes - getting them operational had taken much longer. Most of his men had served in Maldoria before, and they were all veterans one way or another. They were used to operating out of helicopters, and he had chosen to send gunships rather than purely attack birds.

The troop compartment of the Hind wasn’t exactly the most comfortable, but the same could have been said for any transport helicopter. The squad of ten, under the command of Sergeant Emma Haas, were packed tight. The Shalumite made version of their gunship had been designed to accommodate units of their size, but not an inch had been spared otherwise. None of them complained, they had been in far worse conditions over the years.

The other Hind off to their left had been loaded with supplies instead. No one had been really sure what to bring, so they had deferred to their other Guild partners for that one. They had all came loaded for bear, their rocket pods full along with their heavy cannons. The same could be said for their Kiowa escorts, though the light helicopters weren’t good for much else beyond hit and run strikes if it came down to it.

They got closer to the city center and saw numerous columns of smoke where the gendarmes and JRA platoons and squads of the Cheetah regiment were fighting off protests and HDLF attacks. The rebels were using the protesters as cover, intermingling with them to the point that some gendarme units, some with Hamikh members, froze up rather than fire at the crowds. Then the rebels sniped at the gendarmes until they could overrun them.

In a couple instances, the opposite happened, especially with JRA platoons from the Cheetah Regiment, whose men were mostly pulled from the Tamar northern cities. They didn’t hesitate to fire into the crowd as the rocks, bricks and occasional bullets flew at them. Starting stampedes back, it did accomplish the goal of halting the attacks on government facilities and utilities, but the long term damage to relations between the government and the Hamikh minority were immeasurable. Some might say that ship had sailed, anyway.

Ground fire began to ping the lightly armored choppers from below. Not too far from the hotel where the Varangian Guard had set up shop was a park with a football field (soccer to some). It would be large enough for the choppers to touch down two at a time comfortably, three at a squeeze should they need to speed up the timetable.

Major Pyrczinski had asked for the VG to send a team to secure the LZ ahead of their arrival, as well as contacting the local JRA unit to supply some Mahingra jeeps and trucks to transport them the short distance. They would normally hoof it in on foot, but with the supplies, they needed to convoy.

The Kiowas, Fox AT-77 and Mi-24 gunships circled, having to fire a couple times over the heads of a group of rowdy civilians that seemed to be nearing the field. They torched a car in the process and sent the civilians running and screaming. Then they raked spots where the heaviest fire was coming from, careful not to fire indiscriminately into the windows of the buildings.

The third Iron Eagle helo held a team that was most of Blackwood’s QRF assets in-country. The men of SMT 'Hammer' rode to battle once again, proud that they were the first & most frequent takers of contact within their parent organization. While QRF duty was mainly about sitting around catching an uncomfortable nap in full kit on most operations, J-Gup had seen the direct-action team deployed more often than even the insurgent hunters of the COIN teams.
A pang of sorrow stung Davis' guts as he noted the two empty seats in the bird, belonging to Matt Barrows and his assistant gunner, Carlos Mendez. Both men had died on “Hammer's” last outing, Barrows killed by small-arms fire and Mendez shortly afterwards as he'd tried to man the MK48. They would be sorely missed, both men having served on the team as long as Davis had held command.

His mind rotated back to more pressing concerns, namely their sudden retasking from wall-duty at the Blackwood compound to being sent to reinforce the wildcards of the Varangian Guard. A slight smiled creased his features at that thought, reminding him he'd been one such freelance lunatic until a few years ago. Dekker Bray, now one of Blackwood's most respected field managers, had once run his own crew of lunatics, and Davis had been invited into the corporate fold based on that recommendation. He'd immediately been rotated to a Special Mission Team, and promoted to a command billet two years later. Two of his former freelance team-mates, Derrick Mosley and Joshua Croft, were seated nearby. Both former frogmen, they served as the team's designated marksmen and spotters for the mortar teams, helping to coordinate the indirect fire as well as adding a precision elimination option to the predominantly crew-served destruction his SMT brought to the table.

On that note, he'd plussed up their loadout and reserve ammunition for this operation; the floor of the chopper was crowded with 60mm mortar rounds of various flavors, as well as a considerable amount of 7.62x51mm link. The mortar teams had gone from two tubes to four, for the sake of redundancy. Each MK48 team had a selection of spare barrels as well, four additional instead of the usual two. The assistant gunners had swapped their BW-issued .300 BLK SCAR PDW's around, configuring them to feed from 25 round SR-25 magazines, fitting blast-shields over their muzzles to help mitigate the much-louder report. He'd made that call to ensure ammunition continuity between crew-served and individual weapons; they could easily de-link 7.62 from the thousands of rounds they were flying in with in a worst-case scenario.

Like every mercenary band worth its salt, each of the remaining ten operators wore his own choice of equipment, aside from the mandatory weapon loadout. Argonian military-issued Crye pants in Multicam Marshland were in evidence among the Gungiri members of the team, while many of the expats sported more traditional solid black plate carriers and milsurp patterns from their own national military forces. They were truly a motley bunch. In addition to the SCARs, MK48's, and the SR-25's carried by Croft's sniper section, every man packed the mandatory Glock 19, dual-tube NODS, and a small 3-day assault bag full of living essentials.

The latter was SOP on what was likely a long-term reinforcement posting. Davis didn't entertain any thoughts of it being easy, either. VG had deployed with light armor and plenty of experienced bodies according to his pre-mission brief. He and his were on-hand to plug any gaps in their gun-lines and rain 60mm death on problem areas.

Davis shifted uncomfortably in the nylon webbing of his six-point crash harness. A man of his dimensions didn't fit comfortably in most vehicle seats, and this was especially true when lugging a sixty-pound plate carrier festooned with pouches, a MK-48 medium machine gun, and a backpack feeding system for said weapon. He'd removed his Ops-Core FAST-B helmet out of habit (Rule #1 was in effect) and mitigated the noise with a headset provided by the chopper's crew. His own comms set-up was rigged into his rattled-canned helmet, and as such it sat atop his machine-gun optic, balanced precariously. As word came that they were coming up on their landing zone, he swapped the headset for his sweat-reeking helmet and made sure his sunglasses interfaced correctly with the ear-cups of his Peltors.

The cabin shook as the bird returned to terra firma, and crash-restraints popped almost in unison, each man snagging his weapon, ruck, and as much ammunition as he could feasibly carry as the loading ramp of the helicopter slowly descended and let the harsh light of a J-Gup afternoon flood into the comparatively-dim passenger compartment. Within 90 seconds, the bird had been emptied of its human cargo and their associated equipment, Davis' troops moving quickly to ditch their rucks on the edge of the LZ and move back in relays to shuttle the crates of ammunition off the landing area. They moved quickly, their fellow VG contractors already handling security. Jackson left his men to sort themselves as he made his way towards the field command post, directed by the grounds crew.

Davis was a large man, over six feet in height and built like a small tank. He sported a neat beard on his anvil of a jawline and what many would consider an unprofessional amount of 'product' in his sun-lightened brown hair.

He was dressed in a pair of Crye combat pants, the traditional Multicam pattern faded almost to the point of ineffectiveness, with '+B+' written in block-letter Sharpie across one kneepad. His body armor was an equally-faded flat dark earth hue, and was worn over an abused olive-drab combat shirt he'd cut off at the elbows to showcase the sleeve tattoos on his massive arms. Blackwood's dead-tree logo was affixed via a subdued & dirty velcro patch on one bulging shoulder. Dekker clearly was the unwilling corporate face of Blackwood's unconventional operations. There wasn't a single polo shirt in evidence on Davis' team.

The Blackwood team-leader loped over to where some of the other Guild team leadership were huddled.

"Which one of you is 'Kirves'?"

He hadn't bothered removing his belt-fed, he simply shifted it as far out of the way as the modified feed-chute and sling would allow before resting a gloved hand on the bare pic-rail behind the optic.

There were roughly 15 of them, spread out in ramshackle defensive positions made of overturned benches and street refuse. The Guard operators had deployed IR strobes at the center of the field. Rather useless during the day, but using flares or smoke risked conflagrating the situation and drawing the influx of rebels down right on top of them. That was the exact opposite of what they wanted to do, especially given how far they were from base and how short they were on ammo. Once the choppers landed, it’d be a toss-up whether they made it back to the compound before the local shock forces intercepted them.

Dagmar watched, wearily, as the relief arrived. She towered over her fellow comrades, and walked with a power and malice that was beyond intimidating to the uninitiated. Had one opened up a dictionary, she’d have been the picture-perfect definition of a skinhead amazon warrior. The runic tattoos across her scalp and exposed body didn’t do much to dissuade that image either.

Her enormous strides brought her across the field and to the helicopters in a blink, stopping briefly to assess the rotors before helping herself to the contents of the first helicopter. She had the rear doors open before the crew had begun dismounting, taking two crates of beer under each arm and grunting an appreciation to the dumbstruck pilot.

Captain Olsen and Lt. Nkume had run over to the group while their teams unloaded gear with the rest of the Guild operators. Their helos were the last to touch down and the ones to take the most of the random ground fire while they were in a holding pattern. While the emptied transport Hinds and Iron Eagles headed back with some of the Fox gunships as escorts, the rest of the Foxes and Kiowas remained overhead to provide air cover.

Olsen knew he outranked Nkume and Haas, but wasn’t sure about Davis. Kirves didn’t hold rank, but was the VG group leader. None of it mattered as he would be deferential to them all, but he was the operational leader at the moment, and also if they hadn’t made it to Mehatar and had to ground along the way, he would’ve taken operational control. Now that they were on the ground at Mehatar, he was to assist Kirves however best she saw fit, but keeping in mind some directives that Pyrczinski had shared before take off. Some he wouldn’t share with the Varangian Guard leader.

“She speaks, I promise,” Eelin offered, appearing silently by the helicopter like she normally does. “Just not very well. She’s Yellowsian. No one but her and I know… and she prefers to keep it that way. Lots of bad blood where she came from.”

Olsen nodded. He had been around enough Teremarans, being that they were in a Teremaran registered company, to know about Yellowsians. They had fought nasty wars with all their neighbors, including Falkasia, and had even taken on half of Teremara and still managed to not be invaded, even if they ultimately lost that war and had their military decimated.

The Hawkwickian officer raised an eyebrow at the bald Amazonian woman easily handling crates of beer.
“Interesting. Word is that we killed one of her countrymen over there at the Battle of Mulayam Pathar. They have some representation in the ISVC, as we know. The ISVC are still denying involvement here, even as they’re loading up amphib transports to hit the coast any minute.”

He hadn’t been there to hear any exchange between Davis and Kirves, so he barrelled ahead with introductions.
“Captain Olsen, Banshee Team Leader. This is Lieutenant Nkume, Merchant Team leader. Davis there leads Hammer Team, and Sargeant Emma Haas…” He pointed to the Shalumite, “...heads up Raven Team from SSI.”

“Thank you for coming. I am Eelin Kirves, if we haven’t been acquainted yet. No offense or anything, but our hands have been full… we can’t exactly burn our problems away anymore,” she scoffed.

Olsen replied,
“Yeah...we heard about that. Maybe we…”

He was interrupted as they watched an unarmed, older woman approach, having left the door of one of the tenements that bordered the park. Her eyes were wild and even with VG and other Guild barrels pointed directly at her head, with laser dots on her forehead and chest, she showed no fear. She stopped short of the makeshift barricades set up for perimeter security, sensing going further might incur the curtain of lead. She wore a thinning, raggedy brown dress and sandals that looked like they might fall apart at every step. Her head covering started to come off from the helo rotor wind blasting at her, but she paid it no mind.

She mimicked a flamethrower in her bare hands, spraying at the Guild operators, as she shouted at them over the rotors.
“FWOOOOOSH! FWOOOOSH!

BEBE KILLYAS!! BEBE KILLYAS! DEY GETCHOOO! Atch! Deh! EL! Efff!! (HDLF)
DEY COME FOR YOOS, BEBE KILLYAS!”
Having exhausted her crude, rudimentary English, she went back to sound effects.

“FWOOSH!! FWOOOOOSH!!”

With her hands at her sides, fists clenched, it seemed a little more ridiculous now that the imaginary flamethrower had disappeared, but she still got her point across.
She gave up on her antics. Then she hobbled back from the field, across the street towards her apartment building, ignoring the VG troopers trying to shoo her away.

The USG and SSI helos finally had all taken off, all the rest of the supplies and gear unloaded and brought towards the streetside of the park.

Olsen picked up where he had left off, thumbing back in the old woman’s direction.
“Um...That. They got worked up into a fervor with the propaganda over that shit. Where is our transport?”

Again, on cue with the perfect timing of an unrealistically made action movie, their transport arrived to pick up the supplies and troops. There were two dilapidated trucks, and two of the Mahingra jeeps as the small convoy came up a side street parallel to the park and football field. They hopped the curb and drove onto the field as near as they could without running into Guild security. Barely.

A JRA NCO hopped out of the lead Mahingra to shout in Hindi and Bengali at the troops to help load up the Guild reinforcement supplies.
He then ran up to the first VG operator in reach, who pointed him towards the command group. He ran up to them grinning. He wore the usual tiger striped JRA fatigues and a field cap with his rank badge on it. A cheetah patch was on his shoulder.

“I be Sergeant Narapinda! Jha companee, First battaly-oon, Cheetah Rejee-mon. Jay Err AY (Jha Co, 1 Bn, Cheetah Reg, JRA). We bring thee trucks.”

Captain Olsen looked around at Davis, Nkume, Haas and Kirves, starting to frown. He looked over the two trucks that resembled Tata LPTAs, but were much smaller in size than he remembered those vehicles.
Then he turned back to the JRA Sergeant.
“Where the fuck are the rest of the vehicles?”

Narapinda still smiled, although it seemed a little more forced now.
“That all. Others to the fighting.”

“Then you’re gonna have to make a couple round trips. We’ll split it up, half the gear and troops first run...”

Narapinda shook his head and waved his hands.
“No, no, no, sahib. One and done. We take you one ride to hotel then we go. Business.”

Olsen didn’t know exactly what the JRA NCO’s orders might be - If he was just skating out of more risk or did in fact have a tight schedule.
“Shit. Fuck me! Well, looks like the gear is riding the trucks and jeeps and we’re walking the two klicks to the hotel . Maybe we can mount a gun on one or both of those Mahingras?”

He looked around for vehicles they might be able to commandeer for the convoy. In this neighborhood, there weren’t many to be had, and the ones in view didn’t even look functional, much less big enough. It would be wasted effort to hotwire unarmored, slow putters.

[RP also courtesy of Wandering Argonians, Shalum, Falkasia, and Jaragupta.]

[Jaragupta]

1 km from the Mehatar Grande
Mehatar, Southern Jaragupta

The HDLF leader who only went by the mononym of Gursharan waited on the rooftop of the half-constructed office building. He was directing the battles against the JRA and gendarme troops who had tried to push in on where he had his forces fortifying. Boys would hand him radios and cell phones as they rang or squawked, he would listen, give terse orders to his field commanders, then hand them back. The cycle repeated over and over.

Gursharan was just a bit on the heavyset side, but he packed some muscles along with the fat bulges. His haircut was old fashioned, with swept bangs and thick side burns, like a 70’s Bollywood character. While he might come off comical to a Westerner, he was not a buffoon and was quickly proving his worth to the rest of the Marxist leaders and the ISVC advisers. Three of them stood behind him in fact, observing his poetry in motion.

All of them were Mubatans from the MFM. They were also keeping constant contact with CAIF HQ, in another part of the city. Their leader, Vandu, would walk over every few moments to consult with Gursharan, then walk back to tell his people, Shuza and Pefaza, what messages to send out.

Others of their comrades, more Mubatans, Cardwithians, Yellowsians, Ressians, and Viets from the CAIF team were out there amongst the HDLF cells, in running battles with the gendarmes and JRA regular units.

They stopped as they first heard, then eventually spotted, the convoy of rotor aircraft heading towards them. They could see as they all stopped to hover about a kilometer away. Some rockets fired, and a couple of the gunships cannons roared. The sky was filled with helicopters and VTOLs. It was difficult to focus on anything else.

Gursharan shouted at Vandu.
“They are starting an attack?”

Vandu shook his head. Then cupped and shouted back.
“No. They are moving too slow. More soldiers.”

He pointed as some of them took turns to lower to the ground. From their vantage point, they couldn’t see them as they dipped below the trees, but he was certain they were depositing troops and supplies to the field. He winced at the fact he hadn’t thought to station a team or two there with RPGs and mobile AA. Of course the field was the most logical LZ for them.

“JRA are already in force on ground.”

“No, not JRA. Mercenaries. Guild. Probably to reinforce the ones in the Grande. Except that, that park is not next to the Grande. They have a little ways to go.”

Gursharan smiled and nodded. He understood. On a clear, normal day with no traffic they could make it in mere minutes from the park. Today was not that day. Gursharan would make sure they got the surprise they deserved. He pulled a boy with a dirty yellow shirt towards him and snatched the phone out of his hand. He’d intentionally made them wear different colored shirts so he knew who held which phone or radio. He held it up to his ear to make sure the connection was still there. Then he barked into it sharply. He shoved it back into the boy’s hand.
“They will never make it to the hotel, my friend.”

“I have no problem with that. I hope you can make it happen.”
Vandu paused, then spoke again.
“May I make a suggestion, Gursharan?”

“What is it?” The Hamikh leader seemed a bit annoyed. He was already beckoning the boy in the red shirt to him to talk to another battlefield commander.

“We need to prepare to leave in a few minutes. Once the Guild gets hit they will focus their SIGINT to this part of the city and see all the focal point of cell activity and radio bandwidth that is on this roof. It won’t take them long to call in an air strike.”

Gursharan stopped what he was doing.
“If that was the case, why haven’t they done that already? I have been at this all day.”

“They probably are already looking for you. Up until now, most of the forces you are engaging are Jaraguptan government forces, who don’t have that SIGINT and cyber capability. This attack on the mercs will make you ‘pop up on their radar’, as they say, more than ever. Their search for you will become immediately more urgent. You can still set up in another part of the city soon, but I think you will need to give it a rest for just a bit.”

“What if I just don’t have the mercs get hit? We cannot afford for me to 'rest for just a bit'. This needs to happen now.”

“Then the mercs set up in the hotel, start sending out patrols, and they help the local forces find you. All the while they will still call in air strikes and cyber and jamming attacks to disrupt your network. You can’t win there either. No, you should hit them. It will be worth it. Trust me. In hours, all this effort and blood will be worth it when our people arrive.”

“The ISVC is going to be here, in Mehatar?”

“Somewhere on this island, yes. Then the Rajah’s friends won’t be so worried about you and your friends. They’ll be much more worried about us, if they’re not already.”

[RP also courtesy of Mubata]

---

Rajah’s Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

As the Myrmidon men got settled and made their presence known over the next couple days, a very thick tension also settled in. The Royal Guard, or Shahi Rhakavali, were noticeably frosty to their contracted, foreign counterparts. On the surface, they were ordered to cooperate with the Port Embrian contractors, but behind their backs, they talked. The SR officers also made sure to keep certain rooms in the palace locked, that only they had the keys to.

General Uraban Halaganda had to that point, avoided meeting with the foreign commander of the new close protection unit that the Rajah had brought in behind his back. When he was told this Corey Shaw was approaching down a certain hallway, he made sure to orchestrate it so that he could take another path through many of the secret passages and doors that were in the labyrinth that was the traditional home of the dynasty, and his officers would cover and obstruct.

There had been some small talk, but no official decision, at least within the General’s ears, that they would bring in a foreign unit to do the job that the Shahi Rhakavali had done for centuries for the royal family. It made no sense when there were two whole battalions of native, loyal Tamars ready to defend the Rajah and his family, to bring in a bunch of arrogant Westerners who had no sense of the culture and no real stake in keeping the Palace intact. Then, suddenly, here they were.

On this day, he had decided he was ready after several days of deliberation and observation of the Myrmidon crew. When he was told that Shaw neared, he waved it off. They were in a corridor that led towards the back kitchens in the back of the Palace. He had a small cordon with him of a couple officers and two larger NCOs of the guard.

As Shaw and his men approached, Halaganda nodded to the Myrmidon leader. He then held up a hand in a very light gesture of attention.
“Mr. Shaw? It is a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance. I believe we have much to discuss. Would you be willing to chat with me in this little conference room?”
Two doors that blended into the facade of the wall, with its gold trim, were opened up in the hallway by an RS guard.

Shaw was immediately alarmed at the General's sudden approach, especially considering that he was now effectively outnumbered and cut off from backup. Even though he and the General were technically on the same team, Shaw knew very well of the General's avoidance tactics since his team's arrival and the tense atmosphere his clear animosity had caused. Shaw forced a soft smile as he decided to roll the dice, nonetheless.
"General, the pleasure is all mine. My presence is actually required elsewhere at this moment, but I suppose for His Excellence, I could spare a few short moments." Corey stepped towards the opened wall-door, his eyes scanning the area and the personnel rapidly.

The General smiled.
“Good. I am glad you can spare the time. This is an important matter.” He didn’t seem all that concerned if Shaw could spare time or not. He waved to the interior.
“You are safe. No ambush awaits. See?
I would keep the door open to reassure you, but maybe what we have to say is not for everyone’s ears.”

The Royal Guard top officer moved to the interior of the room, but didn’t take one of the red velvet upholstered chairs. As Shaw followed, the door was closed.

Halaganda turned to fully face Shaw.
“I don’t have any more pleasantries to give, so I will just sally forth. I want to know what you are doing here, who exactly hired you, and why they didn’t include me in the decision. Surely this was the decision of those...Guild advisers...whispering in the Rajah’s ear.”

Shaw knew very well that the good General was pissed. He would be pissed as well if the roles were reversed. Not that it mattered at the moment - he was contracted to do a job, and he would not be intimidated by the Creator Himself in line of carrying it out. Shaw made sure to keep his posture perfect as the General mouthed his concerns - his back straight, chest pushed slightly out, legs shoulder width apart, neck tucked against his collar. This forced the slightly taller Shaw to look down somewhat, deep into his adversary's eyes. The perfect posture to make it clear he was not intimidated. He smiled softly, slightly breaking the harsh body language on display before he responded. "General, I can fully understand your concerns and your ill feelings towards me and my lads. But unfortunately I have been contracted for a job, and that job will be carried out without spending time on sparing feelings. The Guild invited me here indeed General, however it was the Rajah Himself who approved our contract. So, if you are planning on establishing an efficient work effort together, I am available anytime to labour towards that cause. If you have a problem as to the reason of my presence, I'm sure your Commander In Chief will have the appropriate response."

The General crinkled his eyes, but the rest of his body displayed no outward hostility.
“Of course we need to work together! The jackals are at the gate. The HDLF are up in arms and out in the open everywhere. They are practically throwing themselves at our bullets. Their communist heathen friends threaten to land at any moment. It’s not about feelings, Mr. Shaw. It’s about you being clear about your intentions so that we can work in harmony and not be overwhelmed. I didn’t ask the Rajah or Regent or Marshal Balakrishnan. They have other issues to address, as do we all. I am asking you, sahib! What are your intentions? What are your orders?”

Corey nodded at the General's response, yet frowned slightly as he was called a sahib - an unfamiliar term. He shook it off as he replied, “Simply put: my goal is aligned with yours. Keep the Palace and all its inhabitants alive and well. I firmly believe that if we do so as a united front, the heathens stand no chance to cause harm here."
The General nodded, somewhat satisfied for now, but still distrustful of this foreigner, the Port Emberian Shaw, and his underlings. He would still be following up and asking probing questions of those in the Palace he could corner in the next few days.

As it may be, some of his Royal Guard units would be pulled away, and some already were by Balakrishnan, to fulfill special duties outside of the Palace in anticipation of enemy forces, but also to coordinate with the Guild mercenaries and the arriving Gaulic troops. He intended to keep enough there, no matter what Balakrishnan and even the Rajah himself might say, to follow through with his plans.

“Very well, Mr. Shaw. I can only take what you say at face value and hope that we can work together, as a united front, as you say. By the way, I saw your confusion at the term ‘Sahib’. It simply means ‘sir’ or ‘mister’. Keep up those cultural studies, Sahib Shaw. It might serve you well soon.”

WIth that, the General didn’t wait for a reply. He headed for the door from the hidden room, pushing it open somewhat roughly, knocking forward one of his own Royal Guard on the other side. He threw over his shoulder,
“Good day. I hope you can make your appointment.”
Then he was gone, leaving Shaw to puzzle.

Another part of the Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

Majordomo Ujakalaran had sped quickly away from where he had seen General Halaganda and the foreign mercenaries chat. He went to a lower level room near some storage areas where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed and he knew the Shahi Rhakavili wouldn’t see the necessity to patrol. He pulled out a special burner phone. Then he dialed his contact, who had secured his services with scant much more money, as he was firmly behind their cause.

Tuzarkha, Eastern Jaragupta

Merlin continued to work to pack up his gear, in a room off the hallway of the interrogation rooms. He was heading back to Mavala, after a couple days of interrogations of the Pan-Asian sailors. Overall it had been a productive venture and he hoped to bring the data back to Colonel Cogant, as well as transmit the recordings off to USGSC HQ. Some of it would be useful for the coming greater conflict, and some of it would be valuable to shop to future and past clients.

His phone started to buzz. He looked down at it, recognizing it was a number from the Palace, but not from Shaw, the Myrmidon leader. It was Majordomo Ujakalaran. Still, it could foretell doom if the RS had started their coup at this most inopportune of times. It had happened to the USG before, in Hutanjia, when the KHS (Kingdom of Hutanjia Security) had revolted in the middle of the war to topple the King during a vulnerable time. It was during that time that the namesake of their regiment, Colonel Pierre Galien, had been mortally wounded fighting off KHS traitorous forces.

He swiped the screen of the GXP as he anxiously brought it to his ear.
“Yes?”

“I have news. Sahib Shaw had a private meeting with Halaganda.”

“And? What did they talk about?”

“They used one of the secret chambers. One we don’t have bugs in.”

“Well, that’s just brilliant. When was this?”

“Less than an hour ago.”

“Any clue of what went on?”

“The General looked quite displeased, sahib.”

“Well, that’s a good one in our book, at least. Alright, keep me informed on any further developments. Let me know if the SR starts acting...more odd than usual. I need to go.”

“Will do, sahib.”

“Right. Next time, get one of your fuckin’ people in there.”

“Yes, sahib.”

“Until then.” They both hung up.

He was a bit troubled that he hadn’t heard from Corey Shaw first, but it wouldn’t be a crime to give him more time to call in a full report or file it online. It hadn’t been that long. He also might have called the Colonel first, or he was still dealing with other issues there in the Palace. No need to worry just yet, but it would keep in the back of his mind.

He re-focused. They had hundreds of Pan-Asian prisoners that would either need to be repatriated or shipped to the interior of the country, preferably to the north in Tamar ethnic country, away from the danger zones. With the impending possible invasion, they didn’t need to give them back to the ISVC so readily by leaving them right there to scoop up. Tuzarkha was right in the path of the maelstrom. The surviving crew of the Honshu was a huge bargaining chip that needed to be secured.

They had the interrogation crew that consisted of USG Asian born and nationals who would help with the JRA unit. Merlin also had his most trusted men assisting. They would get the prisoners away and onto their next destination. In the meantime, he had to get back and get control of the greater intel situation. The Guild depended on him. The USG depended on him. Colonel Cogant was depending on him.

Merlin zipped up his last kit bag and slung them all over his shoulders to carry them out to the helipad, where a borrowed gendarme Gazelle helo would take him to Mavala. He wouldn’t be sad to never see this shithole again.

[RP also courtesy of Port Ember]

[The Cardwith Islands]

Gendarme Garrison HQ
Gahana City, Gahana, Jaragupta

The mortars began to land on the main gendarme station house near downtown GC. All bedlam broke loose as the gendarmes realized they were under attack. While somewhat fortified, it wasn’t made to withstand a barrage of heavy mortars. Dozens were dying, gendarmes, civilian administrators and unfortunately, some of the first arrested protestors that had been brought back for booking.

Some gendarmes made the mistake of rushing out to meet the attackers and were torn up by shrapnel, sniper and machine gun rounds. The HDLF had had plenty of time to sight their weapons and fields of fire, with the help of their Vionnan Red Army and Cardwithian cadre. It was bloody carnage both in and out of the station.

The station house was to get much more of a pounding before the HDLF fighters even considered storming in. That was definitely a saving grace of having the foreign advisors in on the planned attacks, as they counseled the local leaders to not lead costly rushing, close quarters attacks until it was certain that most of the opposition was already subdued from afar.

Yamala, when certain that the mortar and gun teams were well in control of their situation, with Martin Evans ready to lead the next phase of the attack, got ready to take the secondary team back to waiting trucks with drivers that would take them to the lightly defended airfield. It was crucial to have that under control in order for ISVC special operations forces to land in support of the local rebels and CAIF team. She paused, the last one to board the truck as she looked to where puffs of black smoke were billowing up. Martin was out there, a few streets over, about to help lead the attack.

Fenton was still on the back of one of the mortar technicals, advising on the range finding. He looked back the few meters distance, right at the instant as Yamala started to clamber aboard the last truck, almost as if he had a sense of her. He smirked at her, hanging onto the roll bar confidently. He waved with his other hand. The earlier unpleasantness had been tossed aside as they worked on putting the attack into motion.

Now it all came flooding back to her, with a little bit of nausea. Then a wave of determined anger took that over. She shouted, knowing that he would still only be able to read her lips over this racket.
“Don’t fuck it up, asshole!”
Then she climbed up and didn’t look back.

They needed the airfields for their newly revised plan to succeed.
Amphibious operations right now were under risk with the Gaul task force attacking them.
The secondary airfield at Relu, the second biggest city on Gahana, was also to be captured for more ISVC air traffic. The secondary reason was also to seize the two airstrips in order to keep Gaulic/Jaraguptan/Guild forces from landing and reinforcing the gendarme garrison.
VTOLs and helos loaded with ISVC personnel and supplies for the rebels were already inbound from the ISVN task force, escorted by Cardwithian and Great Viet fighters. They would be coming in hot and taking possible attrition before they could even land. If Yamala’s force couldn’t secure the capital airfield, they would have to scramble to find other landing spots on the hilly, jungle laden island. Refueling would also be infinitely more difficult if they couldn’t seize the Gahana City Airport fuel depot intact.

Outside Gahana City Airport

It took twenty minutes with one stop to shoot up a gendarme patrol car that tried to set up a checkpoint on the road leading to the airfield. Two gendarme choppers were up in the air at the time of the attack, one had been hovering over the demonstrations downtown, but quickly diverted to the station HQ when the mortars began to hit. The other was also over the city, further to the south.

They were armed with one side gunner and a couple rocket pods. The rocket pods were completely useless for the situation at hand, as they had been loaded with heavy CS gas rounds to use against the demonstrations instead of lethal explosive or anti-personnel shrapnel rounds.

As they moved in, guns blazing at the mortar technicals, the HDLF fighters were ready with Pan-Asian supplied MANPADS. A total of 3 anti-air missiles were fired and all found their marks on the two gendarme helos, which came crashing to the ground, killing all crew, as well as 4 civilians on the ground.

One technical had been hit by one of the gendarme support choppers and flipped, all HDLF fighters on board were killed by the MG fire or the resultant crash. The remaining technicals raced around to encircle the airfield.

The Protests
Downtown Gahana City

As news of a possible liberation at hand spread, more people joined the protests out in the streets. Where it was just the young and the militant, now entire families were joining in and filling the main and side streets, blocking all traffic and closing in on the gendarmes trying to keep control on the situation. The Tamars kept to their homes, afraid, but the Hamikhs and other non-Tamar ethnicities were out in force to protest the decades of mistreatment by the Kingdom.

The authorities had fired off the occasional tear gas canister, which were promptly tossed right back. The CAIF team had instructed the HDLF to construct slingshots with welded metal ‘Y’s and industrial rubber tubing which could readily launch the tear gas back at the police.

The first few hours had been mostly docile with just angry words exchanged and a few rocks and bricks thrown. Some protesters would lash out and be promptly beaten and dragged off to be carted to the station. As the day progressed and news of events on other parts of the Island spread to both sides, things got uglier. The gendarmes were not happy to feel that they had been played. They were the defense of the Island and with the bulk of their force mingled in the streets with the protests, it became clear how vulnerable they were. By the time of the twilight hours, they were loading live ammunition in their rifles and took to clearing the streets the most expedient way, by lethal force. There were warnings to clear the streets, but they were not heeded or possibly not heard over the din.

During the earlier hours, the Gylians made themselves useful covertly moving about the crowd and inciting or encouraging them to stay in the streets and keep pressure on the authorities. They tried to alternately stay within close range and fan out to different sections of the protests to encourage them to keep going. Nírol at one point had gone towards one side and picked up a rock and threw it at the authorities, inciting the protesters to throw whatever they could find.

Aruna on the other hand nearly got herself into trouble towards the afternoon. Having seen a gendarme beating up a protester, she jumped onto the gendarme and used her fingernails and teeth to bite and injure wherever possible, enough time for the protester to walk off to safety. She then ran and disappeared back into the crowd as that block became engulfed in violence and tear gas canisters.

Demi managed to catch up with her a few minutes later, and seeing her slightly frazzled, asked, “What happened, Aruna?”

“Oh, I did my best to beat up a cop to get them off a protester.” She held up her hands. “My nails came in handy.”

Demi nodded. “You should have at least one of us with you next time. It’s a big risk to try to take on a pig alone.”

“I know”, Aruna said, using her hand to readjust her jaws and intermittently biting empty air to make sure her teeth were recovering. “But it’s an even bigger risk if more than one of us is found out simultaneously.”

“Please be careful.”, Demi replied. Aruna nodded, making a smile, and gave him a thumbs up. Demi returned the thumbs up, and the two went separate ways afterwards.

On the rooftops, Yamala’s secret sniper teams went into action. While they were well aware that their primary mission was to silence the Gylians should they be about to fall into the wrong hands, they felt the more immediate concern was to counterbalance the slaughter of the protesters by taking out any gendarmes they could who sported heavy weaponry.

Jaraguptan gendarmes went sprawling, their gear tumbling from them, as sniper rounds from the two teams found their marks. The crowds in the streets of the provincial capital were whipped into a frenzy as they feared both death from above, and from those across the barriers from them. Even the unwitting protesters feared a sniper bullet as no one was privy to who was above them or where exactly the sentiments lie of those angels of death. There were sick people out there who would kill many from both sides just to enjoy the misery and mayhem that unfolded.

As things heated up and bullets started flying, the Gylians increasingly stayed off the streets, taking refuge in their safe house or keeping away from the centre of the action.

In a quiet moment when they were all in the safe house, Carme approached Aruna and said, “By the way, Aruna, Yamala is gonna strangle you when this is all done.”

Aruna chuckled with gallows humour. “I know why. Look forward to it, it means we got out of this shit alive.”

---

Gahana City Airport
Gahana, Jaragupta

At that moment, Yamala was much more preoccupied with killing others who more directly opposed her group’s plans. She rushed with a group of HDLF allies towards a low building next to the air traffic control tower under fire. The gendarmes or whatever the airport had for security had a man on the roof was raining down shots as they made their do or die attack.

One of the fighters whipped back, his head split open by a round. He collapsed backwards collapsing in a sprawl of legs and skittering assault rifle to the pavement. Another of their comrades lay further back near where they had started from the rental car stand, her hands both cradling her head as her elbows slowly used up her strength to drag her body along behind her. A big darkening spot was spreading across the khaki shirt on her back, showing where the bullet had exited. She let out whimpers and moans that could barely be heard above the cacophony.

As they slapped up against the wall, she traded quick looks around with the remaining fighters. They were wild eyed with adrenaline...and some fear.
Yamala took a breath.
“You all will be heroes, whether you live or die today. The difference is they will talk about you for many more years.”

At that moment, the other group was hitting the other side of the port with a technical mounting a heavy machine gun. They heard the echoes across the tarmac as the gun stitched rounds across the holdout positions of the gendarmes.

BA-DA-BA-DA-BA-DA-BA-DA-

“Now’s our chance!” Yamala pointed.

One fighter hurled a grenade through a hole in an already half shattered window. The blast took the rest of the glass out. They hunkered down and flying glass sliced through the air where they had been. Yamala jumped up and kicked the door in and they rushed through. She went low and to the side. Despite training, not all the Hamikh fighters had quite learned the lesson that bravely charging into the most predictable space equaled success. There was nothing she could do about it now.

As expected, any defenders that had survived the grenade blast let loose on the first upright target bum rushing the door. The Hamikh rebel’s momentum carried his body forward, stumbling over the debris from the blast before crashing lifeless into a lounge table.
Yamala was already returning fire, cutting down the security defenders, of which there were two, who had flipped a table for cover at the far end of the lounge. While her SMG might have had some ricochet issues, her heavier caliber pistol would have no issues. The rounds went right through the table, taking out the Jaraguptans who thought they were better protected with a light table top. Yamala had to shield herself from the splinters of formica and particle board that sprayed out as she rushed on, followed by the local revolutionaries who had survived the assault up to this point.

An arm popped out of a side doorway, sleeve rolled up, with a Ashani Mark II in hand. The pistol fired and one of the HDLF rebels fell, struck in the chest by the shot. Yamala grabbed the arm of the gendarme and slammed it as he fired again, the shot going wide. She smashed her pistol into his face, then brought it up again, firing point blank and dispatching the brave, yet foolish gendarme from Gha Co, Viper Bn.

The young Cardwithian looked back at her two remaining Hamikh allies. They were breathing heavy, but didn’t seem to be too bothered beyond that. One held a captured Type 300 SMG, and the other, one of the Pan-Asian AR’s they had been supplied with. Their clothes were ripped and there was evidence of some bleeding cuts and scrapes from their fight across half the airport. She was certain if she bothered to look in an intact window, she would find herself in the same condition or worse. At this attrition rate, she would be storming the air traffic control tower by herself. They cleared the rest of the building and met back in the main lounge. The tower entrance was just a few meters across a grass strip from the back door of this terminal.

They all crouched and swiveled as footsteps approached from behind. They were split seconds from hosing a hail of lead out the doorway when Ranbir, the most senior HDLF man of this group stuck his head in. Other fighters put their heads through the windows and grinned.
Ranbir focused on Yamala,
“We have taken the rest of the airfield. We smashed up one twirly bird…” He meant the two remaining Gazelle gendarme helicopters that had been parked on the helipad. “...We got the other one intact. I have two guards on it.”

“Good work! All we have left is the tower.” She pointed to the back and up.

“We need to take it now. They are starting to snipe my men. Do you have a plan?”

---

Gendarmerie Station; Viper Bn HQ
Gahana City, Gahana, Jaragupta

Martin Evans observed the damage caused by his bombardment from the mortar line. He had had his spare fighters construct impromptu mortar pits from sandbags, bricks and cinder blocks from a building site and they were entrenched enough to avoid return fire from the gendarmes. Most of the policemen were trying, in vain, to find cover within the compound. Some others had bravely tried to sally out, to be met by the machine guns of Evans’ Weapons Team.

After several minutes of bombardment, Evans turned to one of his fellow Red Army veterans. “Wilcox,” he ordered, “Stay here and direct the mortar fire. I want a steady bombardment, don’t waste bombs.”

“Yes, Comrade General,” Senior Lieutenant Wilcox affirmed. The wiry-haired airborne officer grinned and craned his back as well as the sixty-one year old could and put his binoculars to his eyes.

Evans smiled. He felt in his element. The breeze was blowing cool past his face and the burst of mortar bombs met his ears. To be called ‘Comrade General’ for the first time in almost forty years, to be leading men into battle. Battle welcomed him home like an old companion. “Come on boys,” he called, “Pack those MGs together, we’re going to cover the assault!”

The Support Group had been divided in two, with one team of twenty-one using the mortars and another team of twenty-two which handled the machine guns and support weapons (a mixture of RPGs and an AGS-17 launcher). Martin Evans had kept the two teams together until this point, but now it was time for the main assault and these weapons would be needed to cover the assault force.

Evans himself had two belts of PK ammunition draped over his shoulders and he was certainly feeling his age as the AKM in his hands felt much more cumbersome than the far-heavier Bren Gun he had carried for a time in Gallandia. His prime was gone, but his glory was not yet burned away. Spurred on by their balding commander, the Weapons Team packed up their gear at the double-quick and followed him, relatively safe under the cover of the Assault Group’s rifles and Wilcox’s mortars, to the gates of the station compound, the barriers themselves having crumpled at the strike of an RPG’s projectile. In the cover of the entranceway, Martin sited his machine guns. A pair of PKMs placed with a ninety-degree angle between them to provide a sweeping field of fire. The AGS-17, a particular favourite of the old artillery officer, was kept in reserve to support the final strike on the station building while the three RPG bearers and their assistants kept in cover in case holes needed to be blown in the building, or any vehicles that arrived to help.

Fenton’s technicals continued to add to the mortar barrage, along with the set mortars in sandbagged positions. He kept on the radio with Evans to coordinate. They lost one truck to a well aimed volley from the station house. At a certain point, the technical mounted mortars ran out of ammo, and the crews abandoned them. They were targeted immediately by the gunners inside the building as they slowed and became more immobile. Being that they were empty, it was not a loss to Fenton and his local deputies.

From his position in cover, Martin Evans looked back to his waiting Assault Team. Major Saunders was grinning inanely, clutching his Sterling SMG with white fingers, clearly raring to go. Fenton, it appeared from his radio communications, had remained with his technicals. Saunders gave Evans a nod, Evans nodded back. With the bombardment having done its best, now was the time.

“Forward, comrades!” Evans ordered, a great, deep-voiced cry. He dug deep into his battledress and produced a whistle which he blew to signal the assault. “Onwards, comrades!”

Major Saunders led the advance, still remarkably fit in middle-age. He carried his submachine gun in his right hand and used the other to wave his fighters forward. A few lobbed grenades, if they had them, most had bayonets fixed or bore some form of melee weapon for the close-quarters struggle. Martin Evans gave the order to his signalman and the bombardment was halted, the gap was filled by his emplaced PKMs, which fired bursts of 7.62 above the heads of the advancing fighters.

With a thunderous hurrah, the 100-strong Assault Team drove the attack home and leapt into the shell of the gendarmerie station, through doors, windows and bomb-holes.

---

Gahana City Airport
Gahana, Jaragupta

After a last fierce battle in the tower, and a lot of grenades thrown down stairwells, the last of the resistance was mopped up. It had been a costly fight for the HDLF.

She looked around to survey the airfield through the mostly intact windows at the top observation deck. She could not be quite certain as her expertise wasn’t all that technical, but it appeared that the damage to the communications and other ATC gear was superficial and mild. One radar screen was destroyed, but 3 others looked to be still functional.

Looking out on the tarmac, the strips seemed to be intact with no cratering. There might be some chips here and there, but they hadn’t used that heavy of ordinance in the attack. Most planes would still be able to land with little issue. A couple small turbo prop civilian planes and the one gendarme Gazelle chopper still lay smoldering on a side tarmac. She wasn’t sure why the Hamikh rebels had hit the planes, other than maybe being overzealous in wanting to ground the hated gendarmes and what passed for their little auxiliary air force on this island.
Two surviving technicals remained parked with manned mounted machine guns covering the gate areas of the airport.

Yamala looked at her watch once again as Ranbir and his men and women waited around, still recovering their breath and patching wounds. She hadn’t checked that long ago, but it was habit that was tough to break.
“We have mere minutes before the first ISVC aircraft will be touching down. Ranbir, we need a crew out there to clean up whatever debris they can find on the airstrips. Now. They can stay behind as security. I’m going to lead a team back across town to help in the HQ assault. We need that garrison taken.”

“I understand, Comrade Yamala.”

---

Gendarme HQ
Gahana City, Gahana, Jaragupta

Yamala’s reinforcements rode in on technicals and commandeered trucks across the city. They were impressed by the protesters pouring out of the downtown area. She saw two very pale faced foreigners, but they weren’t the Gylians, but rather two journalists caught up in the events.
She genuinely hoped they would survive this storm, but honestly it wouldn’t trouble her mind if they were to become incidental casualties in the next few hours. The ISC had their own journalistic resources that they would be shipping into Gahana as soon as it was secure. They would paint a much more accurate picture as to what the ISC wanted to portray to the rest of the world.

Her thoughts were interrupted as they were held up momentarily once again in their journey. A crowd had formed in one of the downtown squares. The drivers proceeded to try to back their way out, but she told her driver to halt, intrigued by the events unfolding. She then radioed back to the rest of the convoy to standby.

She spotted one of the HDLF deputy leaders as he dragged a gendarme in full riot armor to a makeshift platform next to the fountain. At the same time, the gangly, rag clad Hamikh recognized her, even from a distance as the vehicles were back aways from the crowd.
“YAMALA! Come join us!!”

She hopped from the truck.
“Wait for me. Be prepared to move or shoot.” She said over her shoulder.
Then she began trotting towards the spectacle. Quickly, she made a downward chopping motion to indicate the HDLF leader needed to stop shouting. Opsec was nonexistent with these people. As she got closer, her mind kicked into gear to remember his name: Angmazkhan.

He nodded to her as she got within a couple meters.
“I am glad you are here to witness this, Yamala. This is the top commander of Jaraguptan forces on Gahana. Commander Angkat Ralabishan of the Viper Battalion. The main man responsible for the oppression of our people and all non-Tamar people on Gahana.”

She recognized him from dossier photos. He wasn’t cowering, and in fact seemed to be steeled to his fate. As Angmazkhan dragged him up on the plank covered crates, he didn’t really fight, but he didn’t cooperate either. There were grumblings in the crowd. He was not such an unpopular figure among the populace and in fact, was quite respected, even among the Hamikh opposition. Even with the best propaganda, he wasn’t the oppressor that they had made him out to be.

“Angmazkhan. Perhaps we could wait and put him on trial with the other corrupt government officials?”

“I think his fate has been decided. He is a traitor to his people...To Gahana. He will find his path once again in the universe here, on this day. May he choose a more righteous path that doesn’t bring shame to his aura and his people.”

“Wait!...”

But it was done. Angmazkhan had produced a dagger and in a deft, quick motion, he violently stabbed and ripped into Commander Ralabishan’s neck. The light and fury went out of the Commander’s eyes as his blood drenched his front and the deck below. Angmazkhan let him drop forward with a splat.

Yamala’s arms dropped to her side.
“Fuck...fuck. fuck.”

What was done was done. The new Gahanan Republic was borne from kangaroo courts and retribution now, apparently. Already, there was one of the new flags mounted on one of the light poles that they had put together and had sewn several copies in the previous weeks: A crimson standard with a golden elephant on it, with 4 matching gold stars in an arch over the silhouette animal.

“What is the matter, Yamala? Do you disapprove?”

“...No....Let’s refocus now. Clear the buildings of any gendarme holdouts. We can’t afford to let them rally. Do you agree?”

“Of course. Understood. I think that this was necessary though. The people feel more secure already.”

“I think you need to get a better read on your own people.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Consolidate. Do not become complacent. Follow up your victory by ensuring your enemy is vanquished. Understood?”

“Yes. Thank you, Comrade Yamala. It will be done.”

“Good. I have to carry on. Good luck to you and your men....and women.”

“And to you. I will try to have them clear the streets for you.”

“Thank you. Consolidate.” She stressed that point again in her parting words.

Angmazkhan nodded, he shouted in Punjabi to his lieutenants, who snapped into action. The public execution broke up as work carried on to mop up the rest of the provincial capital. A few angry rebels stayed behind, kicking at the corpse of the Gahana gendarme commander that lay slumped near the fountain.

Yamala climbed back up onto her ride, a beat up, but still very sturdy Thoroughbred LT75. A Shalumite truck that had been marketed and exported to Wishtonia that was like a lighter model, smaller cabbed LT100. All the HDLF technicals, but for a few Hilluxes, were pre-2000 LT75s.

She thumped on the roof of the cab a couple times after belting in on the add-on rail, and they got moving. The streets were roiling with the protesters and people that were celebrating new found freedom. While Ralabishan might have been perceived as a benevolent, caring figure, the sentiment didn’t extend to all his government gendarme goons. Abuses had been perpetrated here on Gahana, as with the rest of the Jaraguptan Kingdom.

True to his word, Angmazkhan had radioed ahead and made sure that deference was given to Yamala’s convoy of technicals. Still, some civilians attempted to climb aboard the trucks and were promptly shoved off by the rebels. Every so often they had to stop and shoo people off the hoods.

As they got closer to the gendarmerie HQ, this wasn’t as much of an issue. Most civilians had fled the area of heavy fighting and none who remained were running around outside climbing onto random trucks. Several blocks away, the sounds of fireworks and revelry gave over to mortars, grenades and staccato machine gun bursts.
The gendarmes were not giving up so easily, even though their situation was now all but hopeless. Yamala was certain there would be no reinforcements for the garrison, and any that arrived would be too late, anyway. They had their own problems on the main island. Mehatar, Gahani, Pradhaan and soon Suraksha would be in full rebellion. Really just about everything south and east of the Tamanna River.

She wondered about her friend and leader, Rosita, who was probably operating on zero sleep right now with all that she had to coordinate. Her and Colonel Fodenka had been working tirelessly to make these next couple days happen. Even with the arrival of regular ISVC forces, their work would not be over.

Martin Evans, aging bones creaking, rushed in as quick as he could to follow Major Saunders’ attack in. He gripped his AKM with white-knuckled strength and praised the hours spent exercising back home for keeping him fit enough for this glorious moment. He followed the attack into the gendarmerie station and was shocked by the carnage he ran into. Not only was the building a disaster zone but the attacking troops had fell to chaos and disorganisation almost immediately. Major Saunders could be seen, with that Sterling of his, leading little groups into rooms and clearing them with undiscriminating bursts of gunfire.

“Come on, don’t tickle them!” Evans shouted above the din, “Gut them!” He grabbed a fighter by the collar and hauled him forward to inspire the others, spraying gunfire at a few wounded survivors of the assault. He was glad to be in that slaughterhouse, after all the doubts leading up to this point, he was fucking glad. Adrenaline coursed through his old veins and the veteran felt alive for the first time in forty years. “Come on!” He called and pushed through the smoke concealing an open doorway. A rattle of gunfire followed his steps as he, and his following fighters, doused rooms of dazed defenders with bullets.

Finally, panting and wiping sweat from his brow, Evans trudged from the building as his men moved on to the final pockets of enemy resistance. Shrapnel stung his limbs and his battledress was scarred by blasts but his spirits were thunderous and he felt fitter than he had ever been. He had watched his fighters fall in droves but more were always following to take their place. He left the building and waved his weapons bearers forward. “Flush ‘em out. Hammer ‘em.” He ordered them as they rushed past him, grinning toothily and bearing their guns menacingly. “Bring me prisoners, boys, bring me these men.”

Yamala’s trucks crept up, then sped up as it was clear there was no more resistance firing from the building. Instead, the firing was echoing around inside. They came around to the flank that Fenton’s group had taken. She spotted him just as he and a small band of HDLF rebels prepared to rush inside.

“FENTON!”

He turned, frowning as he was stopped from gaining a last bit of glory. Yamala beckoned him to her as she leapt off the technical. He shook his head and pointed towards the smashed in doors. She shook her head even more vehemently and fiercely pointed towards a side alley. He sagged, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. He finally followed her as she moved into the alley. Rubble and burning debris littered the alleyway where it had fallen from the besieged building. There were a few scattered bodies, some rebel, some gendarme. It was perfect.

He shouted to be heard over the battle din. “What da fuck!? We ‘bout ta finish dis ting off, Yamala.”

“I know. They don’t need you in there for that. I have a separate special mission for you going forward.”
No one else was in the alley or leaning out a window.

The angry grimace didn’t leave his face.
“Fine. Out wid it.”

She reached into a pocket and pulled out her pistol. Comprehension dawned on Fenton’s face that it was revenge time. His hands came up, but he was too slow to even ineffectually block the shot that would fly right through his hands, anyway. Yamala fired in the split second the pistol was level. She hit him right between the eyes, just north of the bridge of his nose. He fell back to paint the rubble pile behind him.

Yamala walked up to him, noting that his face still retained a shocked expression.
She spoke in a controlled rage, level, but with a faint tremor in her voice.
“How do you like that?! No one fucks with me. No one, you fucking shit. Just because we fucked once or twice, doesn’t give you license to disrespect me you little...petty, petty man. I run this fuckin’ team. I run...” A wetness was in her eyes as she ran down, exhausting any more words.

Fenton, for his part, no longer seemed to care, about her, or anything. He continued to gaze in surprise at the sliver of sky between the buildings. His limbs lay splayed out on the rubble, inert. She fired one more unnecessary shot into him for good measure. His body trembled slightly, absorbing the bullet.

Yamala pocketed the pistol and began to walk around to the gaping maw where the front facade had once been, to join the rebels in their victory. She wiped at her eyes, quickly and angrily. It wasn’t quite how the scene had played out in her mind, but it would suffice. Fenton’s body would just be one more casualty in the liberation of Gahana. There would be no investigation, even if the rest of the team ever suspected what had happened. Those that survived.

The tattered flag of oppression of the Jaraguptan Kingdom that had flown over the gendarmerie station for decades came down. Major Richard Saunders struck it down himself and raised the banner of the new People’s Republic of Gahana (Which was also, coincidentally, the flag of the HDLF). Evans watched the spectacle and heard the ragged cheers of his tattered ranks and he swelled with pride. He had not even noticed the blood on his uniform and bayonet or the scratches of shrapnel and debris on his bare arms. He turned away from his men to find Yamala arriving on the scene, her eyes red. “Yamala?” He approached her. She looked emotional that much was certain, whether she was angry or sad was anyone’s guess. Perhaps both. “A great victory.” He decided to open with. “We’ve won, do you see? We’ve won.” He noted with sadness, “It was bloody, to be sure. There are a lot of martyrs to mourn. But that’s their banner. This is their victory, our victory.” He smiled, somewhat weakly, the battlelust sated and an odd sickness coming on. “I didn’t think I’d live to see all this again…”

Yamala looked around. She had climbed over a lot of the carnage to get there, but it was nothing she hadn’t already experienced in many similar war zones. She was choked up with emotion of the moment, and closing several chapters, including Fenton.

She finally looked at Martin as she closed the gap. She didn’t say a word, but only nodded. As she got flush to him, their torsos touching, she reached up and grabbed him behind the neck, reaching up to give him a fierce kiss, passion pouring from her lips.

Finally, after several seconds, she found words.
“We won. We did it...We really did.”
There had been doubt. It was a risky gambit, and they weren’t out of the woods yet. If the gendarmerie, or the JRA commanders on the main island woke up to the fact they had lost Gahana, and they felt they could spare the troops, they might try for a counterattack to take it back. That’s where it fell to the ISVC to reinforce them.

---

Downtown
Gahana City, People's Republic of Gahana

The sniper teams of Batina and Giorgio had survived. The threat from the gendarme Gazelle helos had passed as they were vanquished from the sky. The action had moved on, and so did they. The Gylians who they were tasked to silence were no matter an issue as there were no gendarmes left to attempt to take them into custody and interrogate them.

None that would show their faces, anyway. Later, it would be suspected that, as it became clear that the battles downtown and at the station HQ were lost, several gendarmes had shed their riot gear and uniforms in order to blend into the crowds and go check on the safety of their families. Numbers are still unclear, but it was quite a few.

As they exited one of the taller downtown structures, Batina and her spotter, Chaddah the Hamikh, came into full view of some of the Gylian cadre. They didn’t acknowledge them or say a word but kept walking, their scoped rifles out in plain view in patrol position, the covers still tucked into a bag as they moved on to their exfiltration site.

Giorgio and his spotter were already there to await them.

Nírol waved towards the two, almost reflexively, not really thinking about it. The protests had been such a stress that just to run into someone who wasn’t trying to beat them up was a refreshing change. Then they saw Batina and Chaddah leaving without even really taking notice.

They must be busy.

Aruna, walking behind, asked quietly, “Nírol, d’you know them?”

Nírol blinked. “Uh…”
They knew Batina, the Cardwithian PAST operative, from the boat ride over and briefing sessions before the team had split on arrival at Jaragupta, other than that, did they really know her?

“That’s a ‘no’, then.”, she replied.

Nírol chuckled.

“Yeah, you’re right…”

Aruna giggled as well. “Well, come on. We’re gonna be expected at the radio station really soon…”

---

From Gendarme Station HQ to GC Airport
Gahana City, People's Republic of Gahana

They left the mostly intact building in the hands of the top HDLF commander who had fought alongside Saunders. Meanwhile, Major Saunders was gathering a force together to take the media station, blocks away from the Gendarme HQ.

Martin and Yamala rode together in a commandeered, unmarked SUV, holding hands as they kept looking at each other, and then out onto the spectacle of revolution out on the streets. It wasn’t the best operational security to have two of the top CAIF team leaders riding in the same vehicle, but they didn’t particularly care.

Yamala had hoped that they could make it back to the airfield in time to greet the arriving helo and VTOL borne regular ISVC forces, but the ideal reunion was not to be. As they got caught up in chaos of the streets, the time dragged out. She got a radio transmission from Ranbir.
“Miss, they are here.”

“Alright. We’re almost there.”

Racing and almost running people over did get them there within 8 minutes from downtown. She tried to straighten herself off, then gave up, realizing that the look of smoke stains and dusty rubble debris of war was more appropriate to remind the arriving ISVC commander that they had laid the groundwork for them to land without being under fire.

They got through the gates and they saw helicopters and VTOLs landing and taking off from the surrounding tarmac, disgorging troops who continued to pile into vehicles waiting on the edge of the tarmac. True to ISVC fashion that they had trained for, they were executing the plan for rolling out to secure the island and relieve the local rebel forces who had opened the door for them. Even from a distance, she could see the multiple uniforms and range of racial make up of the troops. Some they recognized as Cardwithians, but there were also Yellowsians, Diarcesian, Viet, and many others they couldn’t quite discern among the unloading, marshaling troops. ISVC officers pointed to direct the drivers where to go - which road to follow to link up with which convoys heading to gendarme outposts.

They drove up to the main terminal building next to the tower, where Ranbir had told Yamala the ISVC commanders had gathered. Her and Martin, along with some HDLF fighter escort, marched into the facility.
She had no identification, but her deep Cardwithian visage was enough, along with a password worked out ahead of time.

“Welcome, Comrades! I am Yamala, and this is Brigadier Martin Evans of the Gahana CAIF Team! Welcome to the People’s Republic of Gahana!”

Nirol, Aruna, and the rest of the Gylians would have joined them, but they would be preparing to start broadcasting the news of the new socialist republic of Gahana from the soon to be captured media station.

A very Nordic, but slightly tanned, blonde and grey haired, tall and svelte man in a camo fatigue uniform looked up from a council of multi-national officers overlooking maps on a table. He broke from the council and approached them, some of the other officers followed.
“Thank you for that welcome, Comrade! Brigadier, it is a pleasure. Both of your reputations precede you.”
He nodded to her, and gave a proper salute to Evans, who was in uniform.
“I am Major Hilgador Tervejsson of the ISVC Jaraguptan Expeditionary Force.”

“A pleasure, Major. You are Yellowsian?”
Evans inquired.

“I am indeed, Comrade Brigadier. From the 61st JaegerFlok Group, 34th Division of the People’s Red Army of the Yellow Star Republic. I am in charge of operations for now here on Gahana, but I am to report to Colonel Fodenka, as soon as I am able to do so.”

“Colonel Fodenka is on the main island. Still occupied by the Imperialists.”

“So I understand. We hope to remedy that situation soon as more troops pour in from the task force. This airport is about to get even more busy. Gahana will be the bridge head to liberating all these islands. I have already sent out teams armed with mobile MANPADS and AA to the west coast, along with teams to mop up any of the outpost gendarme stations in the outlying towns. Some of the first few have been encountered and they have given up without a shot. With the main provincial capital gone and the main garrison gone with it, they have no fight left in them...Again, thanks to you.
We are very grateful for yours and Brigadier Evans' work here. You should be proud of your great victory here today.”

“Oh, we are.” Yamala looked over at Martin. “Trust me, we are.”

[Co-RP’d with Vionna-Frankenlisch, Gylias, Yellow Star Republic, and Jaragupta]

[Pan-Asiatic States]

The Pradhaan Soviet, Hutagalung Safehouse
7:00 P.M

---

The garrison of the Pan-Asiatic States in Pradhaan has survived the hounds of the tyrants of Jaragupta. Of the original force, only a third remained - many falling to arrest, interrogation, and elimination. Many a traitor had sold out the whereabouts of a high-ranking Pan-Asiatic States officer for bread money. On the other hand, many had been slain in operations meant to secure a foothold in the region: capturing ammunition stores, scouting the locations of major military infrastructure, knowing the whereabouts of PMC units in and around the Soviet. And then of course, there was the grueling task of submitting the information to higher-ranking ISVC officials through encrypted deep web transmissions - for that, functional computers, a scarce commodity, had to be salvaged and put to use by tech officers (Babaylan, as they are known).

But the acts of martyrdom, soul by soul, had cultivated one of the most effective and deadliest ISVC-HDLF units in the nation. The reputation of the Pradhaan Soviet had given the Jaraguptan people hope: the most precious commodity of the Kingdom's citizens in a period where scarcity of supplies and the risk of disappearing without a trace were very real threats to the survival of one's own family.

In the years which have passed, the penultimate officers of the original party had become veterans of guerilla warfare. Some may even have to be pooled-in to the Pan-Asiatic States' armed forces when everything was over. Thus, the trained had become the trainers; the apprentices had become the masters.

And neither was there short supply of apprentices either. Every soldier of the Soviet was promised a rifle per family, and food from middle-class sponsors of the cause each day. As the Kingdom continued to dole-in more money into the supplication of their auxillary PMCs, its commitment to the neglection of the workers and peasants became more and more stalwart.

The Hutagalung Mansion has become the base-of-operations of the Soviet, for now. The HDLF and their Pan-Asiatic advisers constantly moved to avoid detection, but the mansion, owned by a patron whose son had been abducted (under the guise of being a communist sympathizer) and rescued by HDLF soldiers (who had rescued him coincidentally during a scavenging operation), had become a vital stockpile location and point-of-retreat for operations conducted within the city. Its vast swimming-pool allowed trainees to practice maritime combat, its patron an owner of a manufacturing plant which specializes in canned goods.

Comrade Harlen Hutagalung, while a commercial businessman by trade, had friendly connections with many of the Soviet's leaders - including its Chairwoman - who had been his childhood friend several decades ago. Perhaps when everything was over, (as it was obvious which side the war was leaning towards, he thought) the ISVC could grant him a powerful position in the new government.

---

"Chairwoman Wahroka," called the King of Rifles, Rajo Kong Sy, to the woman in fatigues granting the horizon a thousand-yard stare. Her eyes, the color of emeralds, oversaw the return of several riflemen from a metal scavenging mission.

"Phase One of the reclamation offensive is nearly complete. Gahana is expected to fall in a few hours," continued he. The Chairwoman smiled.

"Good. I want a numbers station up-and-running between us and the People's Republic of Gahana the moment they take that damned island. We will need that direct line for our next move," replied the Chairwoman. Rajo turned around, preparing to leave the room, but just as he was to open the door and do so, he suddenly remembered there was another matter he wished to inquire the Chairwoman about.

"One more thing, Chairwoman," said Rajo, in an interrogative manner. "When we do win.. What's next for you?"

"You're asking if I want to be Chairwoman of a People's Republic of Jaragupta?" retorted she, smirking and laughing even further, donning a childish expression.

"Only time will tell, Rajo. Only time will tell."

Mahil Residence, Suraksha
18th of May, 2020 - 1:00 A.M

---

For over a week now, the residence, which had served as a safehouse in Suraksha, had gone quiet. Several sympathizers and fireteams which had gone there to investigate the residence had also gone missing. Today, Captain Hamar of the HDLF personally investigated the residence with some of his closest men - travelling by boat and sneaking past the local sentries.

In the port of Suraksha, a behemoth of a crowd of emigrants demanded that they be allowed free passage to escape the political turmoil. Gendarme, armed with police batons and threatening the crowd with high-grade rifles, attempted to push back the people. The people, on the other hand, threatened to riot. In the heat of the situation, the team managed to slide through and head for the residence anonymously.

The streets were empty, the cars lifeless, and the shops closed indefinitely. Economic depression, social stratification, and political strife had turned Suraksha into a ghost town: more or less a shadow battleground between the Pradhaan Soviet's HDLF and the Jaraguptan police. As Hamar and his men passed by the shut windows and dead roads, they were alarmed to see a man set on fire by a PMC's flamethrower run several blocks into the distance while screaming in a devilish tune.

Twelve Jaraguptans and three Asians stormed the residence, sweeping it room by room. The entire place was trashed, several dossiers and documents missing, and most alarmingly, its owner, Jie Mahil, missing. Firebrick, as he was known, was always in contact with the HDLF, he was, afterall the communications liaison in Suraksha.

When just about everywhere had been searched, the Captain noticed a strange noise when he stepped on a plank next to a drawer full of Marx and Stirner material. Grabbing the butt of his Tavor, he smashed open the plank, revealing that a concrete bunker had been built under the entire residence. The concrete bunker was quite superficially-made, indicating that it had been the work of a small group of people, or just one, from an existing smaller basement, perhaps as a last resort. It contained several empty canned goods, battery-less flashlights, a smashed radio, and a distant dark figure.

Quickly, he and his men climbed down - only to find a most horrific sight.

Jie Mahil hung by an electric fan, as lifeless as the city of Suraksha. With a noose around his neck and an emptied pistol in his pocket, he held a note written very crudely for the eyes of the liberators who would find his corpse.

Comrades,

Suraksha has fallen. I have failed. The gendarme here has tortured and killed several of my coworkers, and my position has been compromised. I don't know the scope of their operations, but you must abide by protocol and assume that Pradhaan has been compromised as well. If has not been yet, mark my words, it will be soon.

At the very moment I write this, they search my house. I know it may be very soon that they will find me, but ah, who knows. They have been searching for days, and I fear they will soon have their way. I have decided that this is the only course of action available to me... It is better to die in your own basement than the basement of some Jaraguptan interrogator pig.

It is a shame that I have not lived to see our dream come to fruition. But I know you will succeed in the end, my comrades.

Please, for my people, carry on.

Signing-off... One last time,

Firebrick

[Terre des Gaules]

BNRG Conquérant
Gaulic Southern Task Force Group
20km Northeast of Jaragupta
Wishton Sea

They had broken off from engaging the ISVN fleet, and instead of following them, the ISVN fleet had also mutually broken off to lick their wounds and focus on landing forces on Gahana. Long distance radar and high orbit aerial observation showed that the ISVC were sending in both rotor transports from the carriers and amphib transports from the LCS and other support ships. One of the ISVN seaborne transports was hit from a mainland based missile, while the others went wide, or caused minor damage.
The JRAF had scrambled interceptors from Pradhaan and Tuzarkha to attack the rotor air assault, but they’d been driven off by more ISVC fighters.

Vice Admiral Daribault had continued to stay in touch with General Dalier, commander of Gaulic land forces, via vid conference. He had choppered in from the carrier to confer with their allies in Mavala, the Jaraguptan capital. Up to now, it hadn’t been safe for Dalier to return to the fleet from Jaragupta as they had been under constant threat from the ISVN fleet. Now that it seemed that danger had temporarily passed, he reconsidered, but decided that staying on the main island was best to continue to coordinate with their local allies.

Colonel Deschamps, the CAG for the Gaul task force, kept Daribault updated, but was busy trying to maintain heavy patrols up and keep track of the enemy attacks. The bulk of the recent battle had fallen on Deschamps and his pilots. 3 Mirages and 2 Rafales had been downed in the ensuing dogfights and defense of the task force. In return, they had downed 2 MiGs, later found out to be Viet, and 2 of the CF-29s of the Marxist enemy’s.
Still, some anti-ship missiles had gotten through, despite driving back the ISVC attacks, and the efforts of the CIWS and radar defense systems.

Daribault looked out on the horizon where the damage could easily be seen. Smoke plumes rose up. The corvette Défenseur was listing, having been hit by a missile and a near miss. It didn’t look good and evacuations were taking place to move the crew to other ships, while the rest stayed on to try to do fire control and emergency repairs to patch up the ship. They had taken 14 casualties, 8 of them KIA. Another ship, the frigate Tembeleux had also had a near miss, with SeaRAM missiles taking out the AshM meters off it’s bow. 3 crew were killed outright and another 5 wounded.

The Tembeleux had only taken superficial damage. Nothing that would keep it from continued operations with the task force, but it had certainly struck a morale blow, along with the loss of the Défenseur.
Additionally, the submarine Ariane that had clashed with the Cardwithian sub was struggling to keep from losing buoyancy.
The only port on Jaragupta made to dock subs was at Gyani, home of the Royal Jaraguptan naval submarine base. They had been alerted to be ready to receive the Ariane, but it was doubtful the stricken Gaul sub could make it past the ISVN fleet that was along the route to the southern city. Daribault was still on the fence about getting the crew off and ordering the sub captain to scuttle the boat.

The belief by the Gauls that they could dock casually offshore and unload equipment and troops without anyone opposing or even raising a finger had seen that bubble shattered in a very violent pop. Now, it was up to the Gauls to not only get troops ashore and honor their commitment to their allies to cover their assigned sector, but also to keep the enemy off balance, (at least to the same degree they were) they needed to keep the pressure on the ISVN fleet and the base they were establishing and expanding on Gahana. There was no word yet what mutual damage they had inflicted on the enemy fleet.

While the Jaraguptan royal government and their PMC auxiliaries were quite preoccupied by the general uptick in uprising, they weren’t unaware that Gahana had fallen to enemy forces. They couldn’t do much, but they were doing what they could to keep the enemy off guard.

“Colonel Cogant, I appreciate you keeping me up to the minute on updates.”

“Whatever we can do, Admiral. We need to keep on the same plan here and present a united front. We are at full war now, as you know. General Dalier here has had to revise his operational plan several times.”

“I know full well, yes. We took a good few hits on that last tangle. We are indeed at war.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. We have seen. We took a beating too, and still are...”

“So I have seen. Did you really lose Gahana?”

“Well...the Kingdom did, yes. By the time we found out it had one battalion of gendarmes as a garrison, and no air defenses or heavy armor to speak of, it was too late to act and we couldn’t act fast enough. Our forces were all engaged here.”

“That is...unfortunate.” Daribault sounded like he wasn’t convinced that no blame lie with the Guild.

“Speaking of that…
I’d like to request on behalf of Marshal Balakrishnan that maybe you could target those enemy forces now setting up with a possible cruise missile attack?”

“Consider it done. We already were ordered to do so by Paritte, so that was in motion. I’m surprised General Dalier didn’t tell you.” Dalier shrugged, looking a bit perplexed. Apparently Cogant hadn’t even mentioned it to him prior to the call. Daribault continued,
“I do want to know why we haven’t been able to raise Marshal Balakrishnan on our direct line. Do you know why that might be, Colonel? General?”

The Colonel glanced at Dalier, then answered,
“I...um...to be honest, Admiral...We have had the same issues. He seems to be cloistering himself in a small conference room, more and more over the last few days.”

“He is the commander of the Jaraguptan Royal Armed forces. The Kingdom is under siege by communist forces. They are knocking on the door…”

Cogant reached up to his eye patch, but stopped short of touching it, resisting the temptation.

General Dalier fielded the question, saving the mercenary colonel the frustration,
“Admiral, you are preaching to the choir, as they say. And no, the Guild was not briefed about the lack of defenses on Gahana. I am in consultation with the Marshal’s subordinates, Prime Minister Anagatya, and with the Rajah himself. Anything we or the mercenaries need signed off on directly by him, I send in an aide of his who is still in favorable graces. Honestly, they are running out of such aides. At some point here, we will have to confront the Rajah that the Marshal needs to go if the Kingdom is to be saved, or we confront the Marshal himself and he does a 180…”

“Not likely, from what you’re describing, General.”

“No. Not so much, Admiral. At least he isn't tying up his troops and ordering them to stand down. I think what is best is that you keep bringing my troops ashore. We will need reinforcements, with these new developments.”

“Yes, about that. A spot of good news. I connected with Paritte. The Hutanjians have caved. They are quite worried about events here and so they will be sending a task force to bolster us. Paritte has also decided to mobilize the Dachinois divisions, and they will be sending more air assets.”

“How? That is far.”

“Yes. Air refueling...The squadrons from Marveille. One from Dachine” Marveille was a territorial outpost in southern Tavlyria far closer than the Republic itself. Dachine was the last territorial outpost the Gauls had in Wishtonia.
“...They’ll be replaced by squadrons from the Republic itself.”

“Right. That is good news. What of the Riysans?”

“Still just sharing intelligence. I think that the door for any larger military commitment is closed.”

“Hmmm. Unfortunate. I hate to bring it further down, but I think we need to face the fact that the communists won’t stop at just Gahana.”

“No. It’s definitely just a stepping stone for them. We need to work on how we’re going to defend the main island.”

“With just the reinforcements you mentioned? It won’t be enough.”

“It’s going to take effort, but I will keep lobbying Paritte for more. The government needs to convince the Parliament and the people.”

“I understand how it works, Admiral. I just don’t think we have that kind of time.”

“You will have to buy time. They are weary of war after Qasifya and Northern Tavlyria. It will take quite some time to bring it around.”

Colonel Cogant re-entered the conversation.
“Speaking of that...we need to get back to taking back the southern cities from the rebels.”

“Yes, good luck with that. Check in at the regular time?”

“We’ll do our best, Admiral. Over and out.”

“Out.”

---

Less than a half hour after the vid conference, the Gaulic Task Force did as Admiral Daribault said they would and Colonel Cogant had requested. From the cruiser Tonnant, and the frigates Percuteur and Boxeur, several cruise missiles were launched towards Gahana where the most recent data showed the enemy forces to be grouping. Most of the multiple warhead missiles were targeted at the provincial capital airport.

In the meantime, Guild and JRAF sorties were being readied to do attack runs on the island to follow up on the missile attacks.

While the socialist world was already opening its arms to the newly declared People’s Republic of Gahana that was not even a day old, Jaragupta and its allies were doing their best to knock out the enemy nest in their midst while still dealing with the other flare ups across the island. Throughout Teremara, and the rest of the democratic world, Gaul and those friendly to the Francophone republic were countering socialist propaganda by pointing out the puppet nature of the small breakaway island and how it was merely a large stationary aircraft carrier for the multi-national Marxist force to gather power and invade the Kingdom.

[Co-RP'd with USG Security Corporation]

[Shalum]

Shalumite Security International AO
Suraksha, Jaragupta

“Perimeter is secure.” Perched on the rooftop of a shop which had locked up hours ago, Sergeant Martin Seger’s lips worked against the radio attached to his Mk. 7 combat helmet. The operator had spent the better part of three years in Maldoria over the course of his career in the Imperial army, and nighttime raids like this were nothing new to him. The best way to hit a target, especially an unsuspecting one, was in the heart of the night. They probably thought themselves safe with most of the trouble miles away. “We’ve got movement, looks to be quite a few of them. I’m counting ten plus hostile foot mobiles, maybe more.”

“Eyes in the sky are on station. They’re switching over to infrared as we speak. I’ll feed you information from here.” The voice of his captain came in loud and clear. Despite the fact that it was too dark out to see the drone in question, the sergeant couldn’t help but look up. “Make sure you’ve got your strobes on, we want to keep an eye on your boys.”

In truth, the men knew very little of what had happened at the safe house. They were soldiers through and through. When Intexa had done their snooping around, and had ultimately decided to hit the place, another of their units had been brought in to do the actual breaching. As of late, they had been working crowd control, and they had the next forty-eight hours off to rest. With all of that in mind, it was up to the men of Echo and Gamma squads to handle things from this point on.

Down below in an empty alleyway, a pair of Luchs Protected Mobility vehicles crept forward under the cover of darkness, their engines rumbling as soldiers hugged the walls on either side of them. The initial thought had been to arrive in light trucks like the LT75s that the company used for utility work, but the colonel had authorized the deployment of the heavier vehicles in the event that their guests came prepared for a fight.

It certainly seemed as if they had assumed correctly.

The two squads advanced and moved into surrounding buildings. Thankfully the area was mostly clear, considering many of the shops had closed indefinitely. They hadn’t been able to just move the civilians out of their homes, but for once Sergeant Seger hoped that this block’s residents had taken to the streets for once.

“Gendarmes are holding back. I think they’ve got enough on their plate to deal with right now, something tells me they’re actually happy to let us handle this one.” One of the men further along the roof mused as he shifted on his stomach. Resting against his shoulder was the butt of his trusty MG3. It was old compared to the rest of his kit, but the company loved it for the cost and reliability.

“Gamma is in position.” The team leader down below reported as he ducked into an empty house with several of his men. They had carefully opened the windows up to get good angles on the compromised safe house.

“Echo team is in position.” Their squad had posted up across the street, and the sergeant on overwatch could barely make them out, even with his nods on. Of course, the point was to keep their opposition in the dark for as long as possible. “I’d say it’s likely that they heard our trucks, sir.”

“Acknowledged.” The captain replied over the radio as the drone circled overhead. It was safe to assume that they had the enemy outnumbered, but the last thing anyone really wanted was a fight in the heart of a civilian neighborhood. “All teams, be advised, you are weapons free at this time. Watch for crossfire, but this one is at your discretion. Go ahead and pull the plug on whoever our friends down there are.”

“Acknowledged. Gridiron-1, you heard the man. Knock on the door for us, would you?”

In the heart of one of the armored trucks, an operator was perched comfortably in front of a laptop. The device was connected to the vehicle’s remote weapons system, as well as the speaker system attached to it. Swallowing thickly, he pressed the ‘talk’ button with a gloved hand.

“Attention to those trespassing on an active crime scene, this is Corporal Erik Schutte of Shalumite Security International. On behalf of the local government and police force, we are placing you under arrest at this time. Come out with your hands up where we can see them. We have you surrounded. Failure to comply will result in an escalation of force.” They had been ordered to give the rebels a chance to surrender first.

[USG Security Corporation]

Convoy to Mehatar Grande
Shravapran Sadak (Road)
Mehatar, Southern Jaragupta

The SSI operators were a bit more uniform than some of the other contractors were, at least in terms of appearance. Most of them were equipped with the same plate carriers and weapons that they had trained with back in the Imperial army. They had come prepared for the worst, with the fireteams’ marksmen equipped with Nashorn CAR rifles chambered with a 8.20 x 60mm cartridge.

As her eyes tracked the departing Hinds, almost a touch wistfully, Sergeant Haas licked her lips. “What’s the matter, boys? It’s just a couple clicks, you know? It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.” She grinned as she clutched her assault rifle.

Lt. Nkume grunted. Captain Olsen smirked.
“That’s the spirit, Sergeant. Well, since no one has a better idea, let’s do this. Haas’ Raven Team will take point since they’re so psyched. Let’s be sure to get a MG mounted up on that Mahingra jeep. Eelin’s VG boys and girls take left flank. Merchant and Banshee teams will take right. Hammer and the rest of the VG on rear guard. I’d like to keep a brisk pace. We all got comms, let’s use ‘em. I want a Guild operator in each of those truck cabs so the JRA drivers don’t chicken out and take off with our supplies. Davis take over that rear Mahingra. Same thing. No crate or man left behind. Let’s get this over with as quick as possible.”

The Guild team leaders separated from the command huddle group and went to guide their teams. Gene Rothas from Banshee ran up to the rearmost truck and jumped in the passenger side, while a SSI operator climbed in the front one.

SRSG Albemarle of Banshee worked with a PFC Elias Kepler from SSI Raven Team to secure one of the MGs that had been flown in on one of SSI’s Hinds onto the lead Mahingra, on the back rail. They both hung on it and wiggled it, to make sure it was secure. Then they climbed out to let the JRA and SSI troops take over the vehicle. The Gaul smiled from behind a large black mustache. He’d had the facial hair for a long time as it tended to offset his unnaturally boyish looks.
“Nicely done, Kepler. I think we shall enjoy working together, mon ami.” He stuck out his hand and took Kepler’s.

“I think we will, ja.” The PFC replied with a little grin as he shook the other soldier’s hand. Kepler had all the looks of someone fresh out of boot, despite the fact that he had been working as an infantryman for a few years at this point. One could easily blame it on his babyface. Reaching over, he gave the mounted gun an affectionate pat. “The LSW Mare is a solid girl if you treat her right. I’ve always been more about rifles, but these things are pretty good too. Try not to break her, I’d hate to have to go through all of that paperwork back at home base.” He chuckled as he looked between the weapon and the Gaul.

Albemarle waved as he trotted backwards to join his Banshee teammates over on the far side of the trucks, making sure they all had spacing and angles of fire out and up from the convoy as it prepared to head out.

Davis' troops made short work of loading their massive amount of extra ammunition, the machine-gunners setting up on the flanks of the truck, piling in among the crates of belted ammo and 60mm rounds. Rucks were secured to the exterior, saving as much room as possible. The assistant gunners, marksmen, and the tubeless mortar-men went about checking their gear & preparing for the lengthy hike in the wet heat. Davis himself sat with his legs hanging off the tailgate of the rear truck, staged to provide cover fire in the event contact was taken.

Olsen pointed to Haas, then up the street.
“Let’s go, Haas. Fire up this train.”

After slugging it through the worst that Maldoria had to offer, the dark haired sergeant didn’t seem any less enthused before as she flashed Olsen a grin and a thumbs up. Her men had, understandably, grumbled about being volunteered, but none of them actually seemed that upset as they took their positions at the front of the formation. “We’re ready to go when you are, sir!” She called out as she lifted her assault rifle.

Overhead, the pair of OH-58D Kiowa warriors came in for a low pass. Although they lacked almost the entirety of a Hind’s destructive ability, they were well suited for hit and run operations; each was armed with thirty-five unguided rockets and a fifty-caliber machine gun.

Captain Geirmund Olsen looked at his watch. He radioed back to HQ. He had already updated them of the situation about 15 minutes ago.
“Preacher, this is Banshee One. We’re on the move.” Of course, that also applied to Merchant, Raven and Hammer teams, and their VG escorts.
“Raven One, go ahead and tell Sergeant Narapinda to get that lead jeep moving.”

He didn’t like this situation at all. Moving this slow, the trucks were sure to be RPG magnets. They didn’t have a lot of good options here, though.

The VG were allayed to the left and rear. Given they were the closest things the convoy had to local guides, they’d be running rear security and point, opening the gap and closing it right back up. Knowing this, Eelin had planned ahead and pre-stashed small reservoirs of ammo and supplies along their route. If they became bogged down, they could at least rely on staggered replenishment.

The risk, and one she had weighed very carefully, was that it meant pouring all her eggs into this one basket. If they depleted the ammo, then there’d be nothing but what they were likewise trucking in to defend the Hotel and port. If they had to abandon it, then they’d just blow it up via proximity charges and take anyone nearby with them. Collateral damage be damned.

Her two medics, Sparky and Heimlich were staged about half-way along the route in a VG waystation. They were there on overwatch, along with another half dozen Operators, to play mop up and render care to anyone who got shot-up. They too would fall back and abandon the position once the convoy cleared the barricades.

“Dagmar!” She called, waving over her enormous lieutenant.

The human tank hauled over, all but skidding to a stop as she ground her boots into the shoddy concrete sidewalk.

“I want you on point,” she directed forward with an outstretched hand. “And take this. It’ll be dangerous to go alone.”

Pressed into her hand was a laser designator.

“Pierre and the Twins rigged their ships to provide us fire support. Light the target up…. Then watch it literally light up.”

Dagmar nodded. “Boom!” she exclaimed, a wicked grin growing across her face.

She stepped backwards and resituated her enormous W-2 Shuttershock heavy machine gun. Normally reserved for co-ax on most heavy armored vehicles or crewed emplacements of three or more, she handled the enormous weapon with an ease and gracefulness that was as breathtaking as it was horrifying. Across her left shoulder was a thick bandolier, accented with a celtic leather and cloth weave to absorb the aggressive recoil her body would have to bear.

Olsen had been double timing to work his way around the convoy to make sure everyone was set. He was within earshot to hear some of Eelin’s commands. He moved towards her, avoiding the barrel of the large MG carried by the enormous Yellowsian woman, Dagmar, as well as missing almost getting steamrolled by the solid wall of human steel herself.

He got even with Kirves as they kept in step with the convoy. He looked over at the Falkasian woman. She was looking a bit haggard, but determined.
“Eelin. I’d like for us to get on the same page. Perhaps there are some surprises up ahead that we should know about? It’s tough to plan without all the info.”

“What I just gave Dagmar?” She asked. “Laser-guided life support. No collateral damage, I promise. Our two minesweepers have tubes set up on the deck and plenty of ammo. The destroyer can use it’s 5-inchs for suppression.”

She paused, sizing him up, then offered conciliatorily, “Laser guided too, once fired. They’ll clear the rooftops…I hope.”

“Hmm. Let’s hope so. Hopefully we won’t need the assistance, but better to have it and not need it, than...Well, you know. Thanks for the heads up. When we do get to the Grande, I’d like for us to work out the defense and possibly starting patrols and coordinating again with the local units. They are getting overwhelmed out there.”
Olsen knew that all was contingent on if there was even anything left to save out there. Guild HQ, as per Pyrczinski, had said they would rather the Mehatar garrison push out and expand their perimeter and help the JRA, but if things were that bleak, they probably would have to go into Alamo/Rorke’s Drift mode here, which is what Kirves already seemed to have done.

After a quick mental review of their available resources across their ad-hoc relief force was bringing to bear, Davis quickly formulated an alternative plan, one that had worked under similar circumstances in the past.

He approached Captain Olsen as he was wrapping up with Kirves.
“Cap, I know we got rolling and things are pretty set, but hear me out. I think I might have a slightly better plan that will get us there intact...One that’s battle tested time and again for us. Can I run it by you?”

“Yeah, fine.”

"Since we're light on space, time, and every other resource but ammunition, I'll keep this brief.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Olsen assented, sounding more on board than he was a second ago.

Davis nodded and continued,
“We need to split this element into two sections; one relief convoy & one foot patrol. We kit one of the jeeps out with a heavy gun & minimal crew, and use it as a scout vehicle..."

He grabbed up a chalky bit of what might be limestone or related rock and started to diagram on the side of the rear truck wall they happened to be sauntering parallel.
Davis drew a small white square to represent the jeep, up a ways on the side of the truck.

“Already done, Davis. My guy put a gun on there and there’s a SSI Raven guy manning it.”

"Excellent. Moving on then...The second jeep becomes our forward security, and can roll as heavy as we need it to. The trucks we load to the gills & up-gun as much as possible, with guys facing out. The rear-most truck gets a heavier cross-loading of belt-fed weapons, as it'll be all we have for rear security..."

Another white square drawn in rock went a ways behind the first, followed by two larger rectangles representing the larger trucks.

"We load the trucks as full as possible and they haul ass like a scalded dog towards the Grande Hotel, avoiding as many roadblocks as possible with the assistance of the scout jeep and doing their damnedest to avoid getting bogged down in any ambushes. Their priority is to get to the target building as soon as possible..."

Finally, he made some small ‘X’s further behind the simulated convoy.

"The foot patrol moves with as much speed as they can manage without sacrificing security. We leave at least two belt-fed weapons with them as support-by-fire, and they essentially conduct a combat patrol to the target building as quickly as they can safely do so. If the convoy notes any enemy positions worth assaulting & the patrol has the numbers, they can consider running disruption operations en-route to the Grande..."

Davis paused for a moment, wiping a descending bead of sweat from his tanned forehead with the back of a filthy glove. He'd already begun developing a patina of sweat-adhered dirt in the oppressive humid heat.

"I know this isn't an ideal arrangement, but I believe it to be the best of our available options..."

He didn't add the unfortunate truths of the matter: Moving as a mixed unit limited their overall speed to that of the foot-mobiles & made the heavier trucks an easier target for RPG fire, despite their ability to better flex in response to ambushes. Inversely, they could pile everyone in like cord-wood and make a dead run towards the target, but be exceedingly vulnerable to heavy losses from a lucky RPG or IED strike. Davis was thankful that the majority of the natives were adherents of the Hindu or Sikh faith, and therefore unwilling to sacrifice themselves in suicide attacks. It was the small things, after all...

Olsen kept pace, his eyes would range out to the front of the column, then to the back, before focusing back on Davis’ chalk diagram and the Blackwood man.
“It’s not bad. I think it could work. We’re in a clusterfuck no matter what. We have some other bonuses. Ms. Kirves here just reminded me we have actual naval support from their boats out in the harbor. Also, we have our air support still staying on station.”
He pointed up to the 2 SSI Mil Hinds and 2 USG AT-77 Foxes shifting above so that unseen rebel AA teams didn’t have stationary targets.

Most of the initial escort had left as things heated up further east in the SSI sector and off the eastern coast, but these 4 aircraft stayed on station in order to support ground operations within the city. Other air support could be called on - the USG LIRCAS that were specifically for that purpose and several JRAF ground attack aircraft. Still, having 4 rotorcraft directly overhead and immediately ready was comforting.

He wasn’t going to get into a pissing match with Davis over whose plan was better. His was not the better plan and he knew it. He would be relieved to not have the trucks moving so glacially with all their precious supplies on board being targets for RPGs, molotovs, and whatever else the rebels could utilize...at least not for as long as this crawling pace took to end.
“Take the vehicles. I’ll stay behind and command the foot patrol. Let’s make it happen. Sergeant Haan and Raven with you, VG with me and Merchant team.”

The men and women of Raven hadn’t really been paying that much attention to the men as they went over the different plans of actions. As the ones in charge of leading the pack, their duty was sweeping the surroundings for any potential threats. Their air support could rip just about any formation to shreds, so long as air defenses were suppressed, but they were killing machines first and observers second. In an area with numerous civilians in it, especially, the last thing they wanted to do was level an area without having confirmation of their targets first.

“It’s Haas, sir. Sergeant Haas.” The Shalumite woman supplied as she approached, not unkindly. Rifle slung across her shoulder, the security contractor glanced between them as one of her men cycled into the forward point position. “Change of plans? Do I need to let my men know anything?”

“Right. Sergeant Haas. What did I say? Haan? I knew a NCO named Haan, that’s why. Long story, anyway...Sergeant, load up as many of your people as you can on the vehicles. I know you already have a couple in the cabs, and some manning the Mahingra with the mounted gun. The rest of them will fall in with us. Davis is going to lead up the convoy and get them moving faster so they’re not big juicy targets. The rest of us are going it on foot, I will take lead on this group. Take your pick if you want to ride with the trucks or stomp around with us.”

The security contractor nodded tightly as her head swung away from the cluster of officers and to her men. She was silent for a few moments as she walked with them. Truth be told, she was loath to split her team up. SSI had vehicles and units designed for convoy escort missions like this, but it had been impossible to drive that in a timely manner, much less fly it in. “I can lend the convoy another one or two and the rest can come with me on foot? I don’t think the trucks will have much more room than that.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Where do you want the helos, by the way? With them, or with us? Or do you want to split them up?”

Captain Olsen looked up one more time to make sure the situ hadn’t changed.
“Uh, yeah...We still got 4 air support total. I’m gonna just send the Fox VTOLs along with the convoy now. The 2 Hinds can stay back with us. Just a moment.”
He clicked over his comm link to the air support channel and let them in on the new plan. They confirmed receipt of the message.
“Yep, sorry. If you want to chat with your people up there, feel free, but overall command decisions have to come through me, as stated by Pulpit. (Guild-Mavala HQ) From here on out though, why don’t you keep them dialed in and if we need that support, I’ll leave it to you to vector them in. That work for you, Sergeant?”
Of course, should Sergeant Haas be incapacitated, it would fall back to Olsen, or Davis, or Nkume, depending. Kirves would have the naval support under control.

The sergeant blinked up at him from beneath the rim of her FAST helmet. “I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t trying to imply otherwise.” Haas had no designs on taking command, that much was for certain. She had enough responsibility as it was. Keeping her band of yahoos out of trouble was a duty in itself. “Yeah, I’ll keep ‘em patched in if you want me to. I just figured it might be easier for me since I know them better.” She shrugged as she shifted on her heels. “If you want, I can patch them into you too, I doubt the flyboys would mind much.” She added with a quick smile.

Olsen shrugged.
“It’s fine. I talked to the USG pilots in the Foxes, who are talking to your people in the Hinds. If it comes down to it, I can get patched through directly via the net. You just keep feeding them info for now, and if they have anything to tell us if the sitrep turns and the other side streets fill up with bogeys, you let me know.”

The sergeant flashed him a thumbs up. “I can make that happen, sir, you can count on me.” She assured him and nodded tightly. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied several of her men watching them, no doubt waiting for whatever orders were about to get passed down through the pipeline. “Those birds up there are good for wrecking shit, but I know their optics aren’t the best. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Sergeant, you know just about everything I do right now. We got the 4 birds above. Two VG gunboats in the harbor, 2 trucks and 2 jeeps heaped with our shit and less than 2 klicks to the hotel. I don’t want to be overconfident, but...we are loaded for bear and ready for all takers. The sooner we get there, the better.”
Olsen pointed out two fingers in direct line to the Grande Hotel while looking over to Davis.

Davis simply nodded & set off to get the trucks rolling. It made sense to send him ahead with the heavy hardware, as that was Hammer team's forte in this particular conflict. One BW rifleman was detailed to each vehicle to streamline communications, Davis himself positioned in the cupola of the front-most cargo truck.

"Let's get rolling! We've got brass to burn & commies to kill!"

He punctuated the comment with a few hearty bangs on the roof of the truck. A second later, Joshua Croft's west-coast accent chuckled in his ear. "That's the dumbest shit I've heard in at least ten years, D…"

Albemarle waved to Kepler, manning the jeep's gun. He hoped he could at least reconnect with his new friend in Raven Team at the Grande.

Davis responded by flipping his lead sniper the bird. Croft blew him a kiss from the lead jeep as the convoy moved out & began to pick up speed, doing their best to maintain tactical spacing in the narrow streets.

[CO-RP'd with Wandering Argonians, Shalum, Falkasia and Jaragupta]

[Jaragupta]

850 Meters ahead of the Guild Convoy
Shravapran Sadak (Road)
Mehatar, Southern Jaragupta

The HDLF fighters moved to set up barricades, two broken down cars were scooted in from the alley. Behind them, dumpsters and metal barrels were put in place, then rocks, bricks and debris were dumped into them to weigh them down so they couldn’t be merely rammed aside. Any side streets off Shravapran that the foreign contractors could divert to and actually fit their trucks through were blocked off, as well. They would be funneled to the roadblock and escape cut off.

They had plenty of help as there were hundreds of people out in the streets, driven into a fury by pirate radio broadcasts and HDLF propagandists, trained by Gylian and Cardwithian ISVC cadre, that went street by street, calling out the people. Their liberation was at hand from the Rajah and they wanted to, and should, have a part in their own freedom.

This wasn’t all spur of the moment, as materials and preparation had already been in play to trap a JRA patrol in the same manner, but they hadn’t moved quick enough to get them, even though they had engaged them further on down the road past the Grande and wiped most of them out. Then, when they had spotted the JRA trucks and Mahindras approaching from back the other way, they had again thought to trap them on a possible return trip. This time they were able to move quickly and had more manpower. The bonus were all the Guild contractors that would be added to the casualty pot.

So it was that it took them almost no time to set up the blockade to hold up the foreign mercenaries. Avadikam, the local cell leader, knew many of these people personally and was very charismatic to boot. So, getting them to not only work to the HDLF’s specific plan, but work rapidly, was extremely easy for him.

There were some curves and twists in Shravapran with one final bend before the roadblock, so the mercs wouldn’t be able to see the block until they were right up on it. Aerial observation was a whole other issue.

Junala, one of the Mubatan advisors, kept her eyes to the sky, looking for the Guild rotor craft that could swoop down any moment to disrupt them. It was she that had insisted to Gursharam and Avadikam to put RPG and sniper teams on the rooftops. Some of her ISVC comrades were with them. The rest of the fighters headed into the surrounding buildings, while the people melted away to find other excitement in the chaos that continued to envelope the city that day.

Avadikam dug in his ruck for a radio.
Gursharam was on the other line.
“We are set.”

The HDLF Commander’s voice sounded like an echo on the other line,
“Call me when they get in sight. I am trying to bring in more forces to trap them.”

[Co-RP'd with Mubata]

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Mahil Residence
Suraksha, Jaragupta

---

"Fuck! Everyone hit the dirt!" instinctively exclaimed one of the operators in the investigation contingent - a lighter-skinned Sikh HDLF soldier in his mid-20s. The roving of Shalumite trucks was as clear as day to him, and it spelled terror for the friends he'd lost in an earlier skirmish. He dropped to the floor, expecting a barrage of machine-gun fire and indiscriminate firing. Staggered as everyone else was, nobody else followed him.

"Budiono, shut the fuck up, they might not have heard us yet—" stated Captain Hamar. Then came the order to surrender. Two of the other members of the force began loading their rifles, but the Captain signalled them to lower their rifles.

"How did they find us? Kuwat said this route was secure," asked a young HDLF soldier by the name of Naasiruddeen. "That bastard tracker must have defected. I knew we shouldn't have trusted the rurals. Every one of them's a lowlife scoundrel."

Naasiruddeen's voice faded into a whirr of noise. The Captain, no longer paying attention, stared around the room, disillusioned. His squad was full of idealistic college students who, only a month ago, were so green they'd never even held a rifle before. These were kids. They had families - families they'd probably left to join the cause. Friends who he would not want to see weeping over his men in body-bags. Lovers, perhaps, who awaited the return of their boys from the front lines. Hamar was a revolutionary - but he was not a murderer. They were too eager to die. The Captain calmly inquired to the enemy squad:

"We don't stand a chance," explained the Captain. "And you're all too young to join our late friend."

In the corner of the room, an HDLF newbie, Purnama, peeked over the blinds with his submachine-gun hanging by his shoulder, eyeing the convoys of the enemy. He could not peek through the shadow of his enemy's visor, but he was sure that if they could see him, they would see the bitter fear and anxiety in his brown eyes. He staggered away from the window and turned off his weapon's safety.

"If me and my men surrender, will you guarantee their absolute safety? I want absolute reassurance that these men make it out alive."

Purnama aimed at the Corporal and his compatriot below him, undetected by the Captain nor the rest of the shaken men.

"Kapitan!" hushingly exclaimed Warrant Officer Rajarjo Barus, a PASAF Marine officer. "What are you doing?"

Captain Hamar threw his hands up in the air, and kicked his rifle to the enemy truck, knowing full well that they could open fire now and die instantly if they did. But he had no other choice.

"My name is Captain Hamar of the Pradhaan Soviet. I demand to surrender to your superior officer."

But just as he did, Purnama opened fire - unsure if he had hit his target. Everything descended into anarchy, as the rest of the squad raised their rifles once more and garrisoned the windows, prepared for a firefight.

[Shalum]

Shalumite Security International AO
Suraksha, Jaragupta

“Bloody fucking hell!” Sergeant Seger grunted as he, instively, tucked low against his cover. He had chosen the closed shop to set up because of the flat roofline. It gave his people a good vantage point, and the low concrete wall around the perimeter was a half-decent place to hunker down behind. As he turned, assault rifle in hands, he backpedaled a few paces to the central AC unit and braced against it. “Watchman, be advised, we have shots fired! Say again, shots fired!” He barked into his radio as he lifted up his rifle.

“This is Watchman, we read you. Be advised, you are authorized to go weapons free at this time.” Colonel Mayer replied over the comms link, his tone grim as his fingers gripped at his desk until his knuckles were white. “Intexa wants me to remind you that we did not get that neighborhood clear, you’ve still got a lot of civilians around. Watch your shots, we don’t need collateral damage. It looks bad on our record.”

“Acknowledged, Watchman. We’ll do our best.” The sergeant replied with a little shake of the head as he pressed tight against the air conditioning unit. He didn’t envy his men off to the right who had set up further along the roof. The concrete would hold out against small arms fire, but no one wanted to venture how long. Of course, their MG3 would probably keep the worst of it off of them. “Echo? Gamma? Are you boys alright down there?”

“We’re good! If they were aiming at us, they can’t shoot for shit, over.” Gamma’s squad leader replied over the radio. Down below the men were really spreading out. Considering that they were in the midst of a neighborhood, there was less emphasis on surrounding the building and more and more on containing it.

“Acknowledged. Lay down some covering fire, make ‘em keep their heads down.” Sergeant Seger replied as he lifted up his rifle. “Remember, the boys in black,” it was their favorite term for the Guild’s intelligence arm, “want them alive.”

“Open fire!” Echo’s squad leader shouted.

In the span of a few seconds, nearly two dozen weapons lit into the building the team had surrounded. The men, used to urban warfare, understood that bullets went beyond initial targets most of the time. It was why the sergeant hadn’t authorized the heavy trucks to open up on the enemy yet. The heavy guns would kill them all, certainly, and probably just as many civilians who lived in the area. Most of the rifles were standard issue AR Fortgeschritten, but at least three of the marksmen present had been issued Nashorn CARs instead. Chambered with a 8.20 x 60mm round, each bullet was fatter and a bit slower than most everything else in their arsenal, but they packed one hell of a punch.

The contractors had lovingly nicknamed them ‘Mules’ due to their kick.

“Hold fire! Hold fire!” Sergeant Seger barked over the radio as the gunfire died down, his men no doubt using the chance to replenish their depleted magazines. There were a few quick orders, and down below he watched several of his men armed with assault shotguns and bullpups push up a bit to take cover behind some parked cars.

“That was a warning shot!” The sergeant called out as the noise mostly began to die down. He really had to shout from across the street, but he didn’t want to put that job on the corporal down in the truck with the loudspeaker. “Toss out your weapons and come out with your hands in the air. You will be treated as prisoners, that much I can assure you. If you don’t surrender? You saw what just happened. I can make sure it’s a whole lot worse if you really want!”

[The Cardwith Islands]

Gahana City, People's Republic of Gahana

Yamala continued to shake her head as she stood at the top floor of the media center. They had thought they were done. They thought the rest of the gendarmes would just fold up and go home once their headquarters fell. They had begun to celebrate like there was not another care or concern to be had. She had been served a reminder of a very valuable lesson that had been drilled into PAST operatives time and again. ‘Control the message, and you control the fight.’

The news had come back that the assault group meant to take the media center had been repulsed with heavy casualties. They had waited too long. As the gendarme station HQ and airport were seized, hours went on while a platoon of the Viper Battalion reinforced the guards at the center. When the HDLF group attempted to breach the lower level security, they were met by a massive hail of gunfire.

With hours left to broadcast and nowhere to go as they were trapped in the center, the local media anchors continued to spew pro-Kingdom rants through the airwaves. Their goal was to rile up all the non-Hamikhs into a fervor and they did a pretty good job of it. Tamar vigilante mobs were formed who went out to do battle with the mostly Hamikh protestors. Some of them joined the gendarmes in the center, armed with hunting rifles, clubs and pipes.

Night had begun to fall and fireworks were being lit across the city, but most of the people didn’t realize that the battles weren’t yet done.
The new soldiers of the People’s Republic tried again, this time with ISVC regular reinforcements recently landed and sent from the airport, which had been successfully taken 6 hours before. Viet and Yellowsian soldiers joined the assault on the imperialist holdout. This time, it seemed they would have success, with RPGs fired through windows and heavy machine gun fire for cover. However, they had been told to not fire upon the top two floors that held all the studio equipment.

As they took the stairs, the fighting became bloody. It was their luck that the defenders weren’t armed with grenades, but only assault rifles, shotguns, clubs, cricket bats and pipes. Still defenders with the high ground, pouring shotgun volleys down a stairwell made for a river of blood. If they’d had a bountiful supply of grenades to throw down the stairs, it would have been a complete disaster.

Then it was a race to seize the top floor before all the studio equipment was smashed by the defenders, knowing that their cause was lost and not wanting it to fall into Marxist hands.
By the time the battle was over and the last defender was defenestrated out a top floor broken window, they were down over two dozen fighters and soldiers. Captain Russell Reynolds of the Vionnan Red Army, as well as Velamar, one of Yamala’s people on the PAST, had died in the first attempt, before their ISVC comrades could assist.

Luckily, there was enough intact gear to continue broadcasting. In the hour it took to get the Gylians there, they managed to clean up the building enough and shove defender bodies in closets and side offices to be dealt with later. ‘X’s marked doors that hid death. Blood stains were still all over, along with bullet holes and large chunks of wall missing where RPGs and grenades had done their work. It was not the auspicious beginning to the new People’s Republic that they might have imagined.

In one of the studios, the Gylians were with others, both ISVC comrades and Gahanans finding themselves in the service of the new People’s Republic, in a broadcast room. The broken glass had been cleared up of the floors but the aftermath of battle remained visible – bullet holes in walls, burn marks and scratches on equipment, several smashed-up cameras or microphones haphazardly tossed in a corner since there was no time for repair work.

There was also no time for anything grandiose. The People’s Republic of Gahana would be born, appropriately, of chaos and confusion. A declaration had been drafted and was ready to be broadcast, while flyers were being printed up to be handed out or posted on walls throughout the island.

While the technicians were preparing for broadcast, the room was host to something of a debate as to who would do the honours. It wouldn’t just be one person, it would be several. It had to be both Hamikh and Tamar, at least.

The Gylian group was rather reluctant to take part as well, since this was the Gahanans’ occasion. However, some pleading and cajoling did eventually get acceptance. They decided to let Demetrios Simonides handle it. Carme and Aruna ruled themselves out, self-conscious whether they looked too different from the population of the island; Demi’s olive skin at least made him fit in better. Nírol didn’t think the broadcast needed any complications.

The feed started as the technicians were still calibrating the transmission, and anyone with a TV on the right channel could now see a table with people at it, seemingly getting ready for broadcast, while all sorts of activity happened in the background, including people with weapons walking about and talking amongst themselves.

“<Demi, it looks like you’re working>”, said Carme jokingly, in a Gylic language they both knew.

Demi briefly looked up from the paper he was making last-minute scribbles on with a pencil. “<Yeah, this appeal’s gotta get right to the point.>”

His colleagues held thumbs up. “Good luck, Demi”, said Aruna.

Demi nodded and said, “Thanks.” At that moment, he was interrupted by a technician walking over to the table and talking to the person on his left. This was how he learned they were broadcasting.

He pointed to the camera and asked, “We’re on right now?...”

The answer came back: yes.

“Oh… oh.” He quickly put the paper upright in front of him and coughed.

“A declaration… on behalf of the people.”, he began saying, rather nervously. Just like the city council, he amused himself thinking.

He briefly looked at his counterparts, thinking to let them take the lead, before remembering this would be recorded all at once rather than transmitted live. So he soldiered on through the declaration himself, stuttering at times:

“We, the people of Gahana… having thrown off the y-yoke of… oppression, declare hereby… uh… the People’s Republic of Gahana.”

“The People’s république of Gahana shall be a democracy, in which, erm, the good of the people shall be the supreme law. We call on the people to… to… uphold their duty towards the Republic… in return for which the Republic will provide all with freedoms… equality, and, a digni-?... dignified standard of living.”

“All… governance matters... shall be resolved in the shortest possible time. Until then, the People’s Council is the supreme… organising authority.” (He unnoticeably frowned slightly at saying “authority”.)

“All workplaces belong to their workers… all land is now in common ownership.”

“We… extend a hand of friendship… to, the world, and… welcome?... our allies, in the struggles against imperialism and oppression.”

After finishing the declaration, Demi was visibly relieved to put down the paper back on the desk.

Aruna wiped sweat off her forehead. “Least that’s over with”, she said to herself.

Right afterwards, a Hamikh man repeated the declaration in Punjabi, for a subsequent recording, then a Tamar woman, a rarity in the resistance but not unheard of, also did another version in Hindi, and then Bengali.

Yamala had winced as Demi struggled through his turn on the English version of the declaration, but she also couldn’t help smirking. The real message needed to go out to the people, many of whom didn’t speak English, so it didn’t really matter that he was flubbing due to nervousness. It would still be cleaned up to be sent out for rebroadcast on international media networks.

Word had been spread for people to tune into the main government channel for the island, the only one that broadcasted with any frequency apparently, anyway.

Nírol, noticing Yamala from another part of the room, made a note to approach Demi afterwards and congratulate him for being a real Doctor Kleiner.

For about 20 more minutes, they repeated the recordings of the various language versions of the Declaration of the new People’s Republic of Gahana, then the two anchors were given new scripts worked on by the Gylians and their HDLF counterparts, with some strong advice from Yamala, who knew what the ISVC military command would want. It detailed temporary curfews and other instructions, along with food and medical aid distribution centers, as well as urged civilians not to take any retribution on their ethnic neighbors, but instead report any known collaborators of the old Kingdom to the new authorities and let them handle matters.

---

Gahana City Airport to Relu and beyond
People’s Republic of Gahana

Just to the north at the Gahana City Airport, ISVC troops were continually being dropped off by rotor and air transport. A multitude of uniforms and unit patches were visible on the multinational force that hailed from dozens of ISVC member constituent nations and parties. While many broke off to join their parent units, others remained in mixed joint force groups. These were personnel with special skills beyond front line combat that were tasked with special missions.

They were loaded up on trucks driven by some of the first arrivals that would take them either deeper into the city, or to the West side where the fight for the city of Relu was still taking place. The first amphibious transports were just arriving, being greeted by ISVC command staff organizers who had also first arrived at the airport and were driven down by HDLF rebel support. They mustered the newly landed troops and equipment into trucks for the journey into the interior and the cities. Some of them were AA and radar crews with portable equipment who were immediately rushed to secured sites on the north and west coasts.

Relu was almost all secure, but for a holdout gendarme garrison at the airport and some Tamar/anti-Hamikh mobs that had formed and armed themselves, not fully aware that they were now going to be running from foreign regular troops instead of just bashing in the heads of their Hamikh neighbors, rebel or not.

Many of the same type of mobs in Gahana City and across the eastern coast of Gahana had already been cut down by HDLF and ISVC forces. There would be no mercy right now for those who continued to raise arms against the new socialist republic. As reported on the newly liberated television and radio channels, a state of martial law existed across the whole island. Only essential support services were in operation. The only other people on the street should have been HDLF or ISVC personnel, but they were having an extremely tough time ending the liberation celebrations that had sprung in many areas. Yamala set the Gylians and the HDLF propaganda officers to work on broadcasting appeals to the populace to return to their homes in order to guarantee their safety.

Next post will cover the Gaulic missile strikes on Gahana. This action all takes place before the impacts of those missiles.

[CO-RP’d with Gylias and Vionna-Frankenlisch]

[USG Security Corporation]

Guild HQ,
Mavala, Jaragupta

He slunk into the command center, slowly taking the steps down from the roof where he had climbed out of the helo from the pad. He dragged his bag with him as he entered into the main operations area. There was no way that the Intexa Chief of Jaraguptan Operations could get away with looking at all the reports, situation maps, and catch up with his top intel officers without being confronted by Colonel Cogant, the commander of Guild military operations in Jaragupta.

To steel himself, he grabbed a small naan bread rolled up with meat and cheese inside off a table stocked by JRA stewards working an in-house kitchen. It was a staple of quick lunches and snacks in the Kingdom that he had gotten very used to, as it was similar to the culinary staples of his own culture.

Then it was that time he had tried to avoid.

“Hello, Merlin. Welcome back.”

Merlin pulled up short, eyeing an escape off to the side that he couldn't make.
“Colonel, so glad to be back in the capital. I’m looking forward to a good shower and nap.”

“That’s...ambitious. You realize what’s going on right now, don’t you?”

“Some of that I was briefed on in the helo ride over from the coast.”

“Some, eh? I think you will need to be caught up on all of it ASAP. Shit has spiraled out of control on a major level since you were gone.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I’ve still been on the Island, if in intensive interrogation sessions. I have been getting the important updates. You are talking about Gahana, I presume?”

“Among other things. Finish that ‘kiddie roll up’ and meet us in Conference Room number 4 over in the Palace in 20 minutes.”

“Us? Kiddie...roll up? You’ve also been eating th...Right. Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Well, I think you…”

“Colonel. I’m tired. If I’m preparing for a major briefing, I need to talk to my intel deputies and gather every bit of information I can get my hands on.”

The Neu Engollian Colonel smiled sardonically.
“Alright then. See you there. Look forward to a well prepared brief.”

“Good. You should.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Good.”

“Until then.”

“20 minutes.”

“20 minutes. We’ll see you in there.”

There was an uncomfortable short pause before they finally decided to break off. Merlin decided that it would have been better to let the Colonel just prattle on and avoid all that.
He scooted off to gather the data he would need to do the brief instead of saying anything more. Rest would have to wait.
He mumbled under his breath.
“Fuckin’ groundpounder prick.”

---

Conference Room 4, The Royal Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

They had all gathered, many of them under the goading of Colonel Laurent Cogant, the USG and Guild Commander of the Auxilliary forces within the Kingdom. Also present were a lot of the Jaraguptan Royal Military High Command, including rare appearances from both Marshal Balakrishnan and the Royal Guard General Halaganda; General Thierry Dalier, who was now head of the major Gaul expeditionary employment that was landing, plus being reinforced by airlift from their nearest territories in Dachine and Marveille; Mr. Shaw of the Myrmidon Security Service that had been sub-contracted on as an extra layer of protection for the Rajah; and his XO for this large Guild contract, Dekker Bray, from the Blackwood Company. With the timely arrival of Merlin, head of Intexa intel and support operations in the AO, it was a very complete group.

Cogant approached Shaw, the Myrmidon Security Chief, and pulled him aside in a corner he hoped wasn’t bugged. He spoke in both a casual and quiet manner,
“Mr. Shaw, I hope your men and women are on their toes around the Palace. I’d hate for anyone to crash this high profile party right now, including his knuckleheads…” He tilted his head over slightly towards Halaganda, the Shahi Rhakavali (Royal Guard) commander.

Shaw nodded softly in reply, subconsciously knowing this particular corner was temporarily safe from prying ears. "Aye Colonel. The lads are as alert as they will ever be." Corey Shaw felt tense, knowing that this was the perfect opportunity for their enemies to strike - and even more nerve wracking was the fact that he did not trust General Halaganda any further than he could be thrown - and the General was quite a weighty fellow. Shaw managed to ensure that his tense nature did not reflect in any physical manner however.

Col. Cogant nodded.
“Brilliant! Good to hear, Mr. Shaw. Stay vigilant.”

A crew of lower ranked JRA officers were setting up screens, projectors, a podium, pull down maps, and microphones in the large briefing room.
Palace stewards set up side tables with beverages and treats. As was their habit, they used a door that looked like a wall panel, that only they had access to, apart from the main doors that some of the commanders were using to enter the room.

A JRA Major, an aide in the Command staff by the name of Prindhalan, stood up as they looked about done with their preparations.
“Good afternoon, sirs and ladies. We are being glad that you could arrive to here on short notice. We have a few very important of situations to cover, and a few important persons and officers that are to be hearing from…” He had a slight accent and that odd grammar of a non-English speaker in this part of the world, but he was doing well enough at getting things started.
“General Dalier, would you like to start?”

The Gaulic head commander stepped up and immediately glanced back to make sure that the appropriate map was on the screen - that of his nation’s fleet off the NE coast of Jaragupta. Another drop down map displayed a blown up eastern coast of the Kingdom, including the chain islands off the coast.
He turned back to the assembled officers, politicians and intel analysts.
“Merci. I am General Thierry Dalier, head of the Groupe de Combat Interarmées Jaragupta, or what you Anglo speakers might call the Gaulic Joint Forces Combat Group, Jaragupta. We used to simply be the Regimental Expeditionary Combat Team, but as things have rapidly progressed here, my nation has sought fit to expand our commitment to our ally, the Kingdom of Jaragupta, and other regional allies. A significant troop contribution is now being airlifted in from native units from our territory of Dachine, as well as air and logistical units from Marveille, which isn’t far...At the southern tip of Tavlyria (A continent due north located in Teremara). Loyal people who have been joined into the Gaulic commonwealth for some time, the Dachinois are natives of Wishtonia and have intimate knowledge of the region and its peoples, not to mention they are some of the most fearless warriors I have ever encountered in my military career. We hope they will take the vanguard in restoring order to the area and showing their fellow Wishtonians, the Jaraguptans, the true way to freedom and tranquility...They will be merciless to the enemy. Putting them to the Sembak. That’s their long machete like blades, if you didn’t know...

Let’s get to the practicalities now...We weren’t completely prepared for a hostile entry into the AO, as our task force suffered when we closed in on the waters of the Kingdom. Unfortunately, we suffered the loss and damage of aircraft, and ships as we arrived within hours of the simultaneous arrival of the ISVC’s task force. If there can be any bright spot, it is that we blunted their aggression on the Kingdom and also gave clear warning that they cannot manipulate the people of Jaragupta without answer. But again, let’s focus on numbers…

Our attack sub, the Ariane was severely damaged, but able to port here in Jaragupta to get repaired without scuttling. She probably won’t set out again for this conflict. The frigate Tembeleux is damaged, but functional, as well. Unfortunately, we will have to let the corvette Défenseur sink to her watery grave. She is too grievously wounded to continue. We have been able to rescue and relocate most of the crews, but for initial casualties from the strikes.
We lost 3 Mirages and 2 Rafales in aircraft, but only 3 pilots, with 2 being recovered from the Wishton.
We can be consoled that the enemy took equal, if not greater numbers of damage and casualties in our assessment.
.
Meanwhile, we have successfully landed forces at and between Nekarti and Tuzarkha, and Gaulic troops have begun to set up fortified outposts in those cities, with more expected in Pradhaan by the end of the week. We will be able to conduct operations to push back the Marxist rebels and quell disorder within a matter of days.

Long term, we plan to have our troops entrenching a defense of the eastern coast while our special operations forces work with their Jaraguptan and Guild counterparts to thwart local HDLF and ISVC operations and look at weakening defenses on Gahana for the liberation of that island from Marxist forces. In the Eastern sector, my commanders will work with local gendarme and JRA commanders to rebuild the rapport between them and the different ethnic and community leaders to shut down the rebels from recruiting more to their cause.

Lastly, we come to now. What have we done?
We all know that Gahana was taken over in the last couple days by the rebels and their backers, and they have landed ISVC troops and continue to do so...
We have launched a missile attack across Gahana to disrupt their preparations, command structure, and air launch and lift operations, as well as hit the few supply depots we saw forming. Preliminary reports are that we have had a lot of success with this attack and taken out several of their troops and some supply depots. They were setting up at both major city airports, we hit them, hopefully hindering operations and doing some damage to the airstrips. We won’t know until we get some eyes over the island. That is it for now.
Colonel Cogant?”

“Well, General, that is plenty isn’t it? We are grateful to have you here. The Guild has been fighting the good fight in the southern cities. The loss and pull out of one sub-contractor set us back, but we’re bouncing back. The gendarmes and the Royal Army have been instrumental in holding the line and keeping the HDLF on their toes…” He nodded over to Marshal Balakrishnan, and the Gendarmerie commander, Gen. Vineet Chowdhury. The General bowed slightly back. The Marshal remained stock still.
“...Joint patrols have gone really well. We didn’t have time to train as much as we might have hoped, but seems to have been well enough to hold the line now.

Guild air patrols have worked with our JRAF counterparts on patrolling and ground support missions.” This time he acknowledged Jaraguptan Royal Air Force Commander, General Keshav Gayarvad.
“Currently, they are heavily engaged in such missions over Mehatar, Gyani, Suraksha, and Prakaran. Also, we are running up against ISVC aircraft off the eastern coast.

We were running interdiction missions on the Tamanna River, which bisects the Kingdom east to west, and we were quite successful on several operations. One such mission flared up into a major engagement, as we know, that was the engagement at Mulayam Pathar, in the foothills of the Danjarits, just west of Mehatar. A lot of the Leopard and Cheetah Regiment elements were committed, as were several Guild units against what seems to be about almost two companies strength of the HDLF.
We incurred some casualties, they suffered massive casualties, including some foreign advisors. These bodies went to our special Intexa forensics and genotyping teams that recently arrived. Their DNA and characteristics were approximate with such ISC member nations as the Pan-Asiatic States, Yellow Star Republic, Mubata, and Aressna.

Pradhaan, and Gyani have been flaring up, but with Gaulic reinforcements on the way, that should help a lot…”
He looked at Bray, to see if he wanted to chime in. Bray simply gave a slight shake of his head to indicate he was good with Cogant speaking on his behalf.
“...Patrols out of Talika, with Blackwood operators working with local JRA and gendarme forces to push out their operational area and suppress HDLF efforts have also done very well...

Colonel Mayer was a little too busy with his own operations to make the helo ride over. He filled me in on how they are progressing. The SSI force are working on getting things under control in Suraksha. Some rebels trapped in safehouses, and some others going underground as Guild and local gendarme units work together to flush them out.

Mehatar is in full conflagration. We have a Guild unit there under siege at the Grande. We have sent supplies and QRF reinforcements. A joint Guild force which is currently linking up with the original Varangian Guard garrison. I’m going to turn it over to the Intexa chief of operations here, ‘Merlin’...”

Colonel Cogant had taken quite a bit of his thunder, so he wasn’t sure why he was even dragged here, even though he should represent his department.
“I don’t have much more to add, other than we are aiding the SSI in the Suraksha dragnets for the rebels. We’re doing the same in the other cities: Pradhaan, Gyani, Mehatar, Talika, and to a lesser extent, here in the capital, although the Royal Guard seem to be very active in doing that here.

We’ve narrowed down who we think the foreign advisors are in the rebel areas, as Colonel Cogant pointed out, but that’s kind of redundant with the ISVC pouring troops ashore on Gahana. While we were in communication with the gendarme station there, we weren’t able to get a relief force there in time before they were overwhelmed by a very coordinated attack. I had 3 assets there reporting from Gahana. One is confirmed killed by the HDLF and the other two have gone radio silent…”

Colonel Sanjay Verapulagantra, one of the JRA command staff, interrupted,
“Fat lot of good they did.”

Merlin took back over,
“Says one of the men who should have been in charge of reinforcing Gahana...but enough finger pointing. We will get assets ashore to get on the ground intel. That is a number one priority.”

Colonel Verapulagantra responded,
“We will disrupt their bases and continue aerial and missile attacks to dislodge them. We will not give up Gahana.”

Cogant waved him down,
“You’ll get your turn, Colonel.” Verapulagantra was one of the next scheduled briefers.

Merlin continued,
“I just got back from Tuzarkha. As many of you know, we have hundreds of Pan-Asiatic sailors and officers in detention from the sinking of the Honshu. Some have been much more informative than others. While it’s not fresh operational intel anymore, it’s valuable to how the Pan-Asiatic States, and to some extent, the ISVC, are operating here in the Wishton. I left a very capable team of Intexa and re-tasked USG personnel of ethnic Asian descent there to continue to ply the more talkative detainees. They will be a great bargaining chip in future negotiations, I’m sure. In the unfortunate possible future event that we will have to trade allied or Guild personnel for ISVC POWs, they will come in handy, although their legal POW status is still questionable right now. We will be moving them soon to the interior of the Kingdom, away from the coast. The bodies will be repatriated as soon as we can set up a line with the PAS government. Recovery operations near the sunken carrier have ended and we don’t expect any more survivors or washed up bodies.”

General Dalier cut in,
”Weren’t there some pirates recovered, as well? The ones that attacked the ship?”

Merlin glanced over,
“I can’t comment on that, General. Not my area. Je suis désolé.”
He knew very well there were and that the Jaraguptans had whisked them off to the capital right away as soon as they touched foot on the main island. They had gotten word from USG HQ to keep tight lips on any recovered privateer crew.

Dalier frowned, well aware that there were many odd factors about this incident. One of the oddest being the lack of strong reaction from the Pan-Asiatic government, but the second being the fact that no one had come forward to claim credit for the attack. The third being that the Jaraguptan navy had kept a tight blockade from any boats entering a cordon around the PAS carrier, yet these pirate vessels were well within that cordon. He was happy enough that his people would not have to worry about guarding or tending to these prisoners.
“I see.”

“That’s about all I have. I’d like to know how the new security is working out here in the Palace and around the capital with the unrest outside?”
He looked pointedly at Shaw.

Shaw thought deeply for a few moments before replying. He knew he had to give some sort of an acceptable answer, yet without revealing too much detail, as he simply could not trust the Royal Guard, and if he revealed all the contingencies he had put in place, that would prove to be a serious OPSEC threat. Breaking the silence he replied,
"Thank you, General. Although the unrest in the city has begun to spill visibly into the streets, it has not yet reached boiling point - or rather the point where it becomes an immediate concern to the Palace. For example, there have been no threat markers within a 10 klick radius of the palace. As for the Palace itself, fortifications are doubled up daily, and Immediate Action drills are run twice daily. The cooperation between Myrmidon and the Royal Guard is also paying off dividends."
Shaw lied without batting an eyelid. There was absolutely zero cooperation between him and the Royal Guard, their leadership still avoiding contact when and where possible. He could not admit this straight to the face of their adversary of course, as he was still trying to gain the trust of the General. He knew, however, that he had to speak to his employer in private as soon as possible.

Colonel Cogant knew some of the underlying issues that couldn’t be said aloud. Shaw had done a nice job of skirting around them. They would need to talk soon, but a lot of the war management was still more urgent. He was sure that Shaw would let him know if things got more urgent on his front.

“Well, now, let’s go to Colonel Verapulagantra for his report on the regiments…”

---

Over Mehatar

“Viper-1, do you see what we are over here?”

The Hind had never been an especially graceful bird in the air. It was the equivalent of a dragon from the old tales. Big and ugly, yet coated in thick armor plates and equipped with enough firepower to reduce a village to rubble. After the better part of eight years in the weapon operator’s station, Second Lieutenant Riley Fields had never seen a better pilot than the one who sat in front of him. The gunship swung around like one might have expected out of one of the more athletic attack helicopters in their arsenal.

Exhaling softly, Riley studied the roadblock for a long moment. He didn’t have the time to count the targets, but it certainly looked like a rich environment. His first instinct was to open fire, to give them a taste of the heavy weapons at his beck and call. This wasn’t Maldoria, however, nor were they the lead force in this case. “Acknowledged, Viper-2.”

Viper-1 flipped over his channel to their sister Guild unit, Clipper, the two AT-77 Fox VTOLs from the USG that were circling off closer to the bay, over the VG ships.
“Clipper-1, we are seeing a roadblock, do you copy?”

“Copy that, Viper-1. Major force concentration on the side streets around it. We got some organized movement on the streets leading to the docks.”

“Roger, Clipper-1. Let’s inform the ground teams.”

“Copy. Already on it.”

Viper still updated Haas, as was their protocol.

---

On Shravapran Sadak (Road)
Mehatar, Southern Jaragupta

Down on the ground, no less than thirty or forty seconds later, Sergeant Haas found herself jogging up to Captain Olsen. Her expression was tight beneath her helmet as her hands gripped her assault rifle tightly. “Sir? Sir?” She called out, but didn’t dare offer a salute or any other acknowledgement that he was an officer. That was how good men got killed. “Our boys up above just radioed in. It looks like we’ve got some sort of roadblock up ahead. The kind that’s probably going to try and box us in and shoot us down.”

Captain Olsen turned to her,
“Sergeant Haas, I’m aware. I’m in touch with Clipper flight, the two VTOLs paired with Viper. We need to get in touch with Hammer and the rest in the vehicles ahead. Can you do that for me?”

He was a little frustrated on this bifurcated chain of command with all the teams having separate direct links to their own support units. Davis, Hammer Team leader, also had a line to the support units. However, all the team leaders being able to call on any of the support, be it Viper, Clipper or any of the combined firepower from Whiskey, Scotch, and Bourbon in the Mehatar harbor wasn’t a bad thing, especially if any of the team leaders went down. Lt. Nkume, of Merchant, would only step in on that domain if Olsen was down.

“On it, Captain!” The brunette Shalumite replied, head bobbing in acknowledgement as she reached up to cue her radio. If her men hadn’t been ready before, they certainly were now that they were about to walk up on trouble. Hass could see that tension in their men. It wasn’t going to overwhelm them like it might a greenhorn, they had all seen combat. It was much more like a tiger crouched and ready to bounce. “Hammer? Hammer team, be advised, we’ve got trouble dead ahead. Do you copy, over?”

Hammer team leader, Davis, responded. The convoy slowed short of the bend in the road so they didn’t barrel right into the roadblock. Being stationary was not a good position for them, but ramming head first into a roadblock would not be a better option.

Up ahead, PFC Elias Kepler shifted at his post on the jeep mounted gun. He was about as low on the totem pole as things got, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t keyed in to the team radio. “Trouble, eh?” He muttered as he shifted, swinging his gun around. “Just what I needed. Couldn’t get an easy contract to save my life.”

In the air, Clipper team was still in touch with Viper.
“Viper-1, this is Clipper-1. Do you copy? We’re gonna take out the bogeys on these side streets near the docks. Roadblock is all yours.”

One of the reasons that SSI had chosen to send Viper in rather than another group was the fact that they were gunships. They might not have been the prettiest fliers, but they could bring a veritable arsenal to bear. It was clear that the mission hadn’t expected much in the way of heavy armor, because the majority of their hardpoints were fitted with unguided rocket pods.

“Acknowledged, Clipper-1, we read you loud and clear.” The pilot had swung his bird back around to bring his optics to bear on the roadblock. “We’re going to hit them with two volleys to shake them loose and see if we need to go to guns from there, over.”

Olsen had been following on their channel. Ultimately, it was his call as operational leader.
“Clipper, Viper, you are clear to engage. Clipper we will have Whiskey, Scotch, and Bourbon assist. Please feed them grid points.” He switched back over to the ground net. “VG Team Leader, can you clear the Scotch for fire support? We’re going to dislodge this roadblock up ahead. And the greeting party along with it.”

“Acknowledged, ops leader.” From Viper-1. Reporting to someone on the ground was strange, but they adapted quickly. Under normal circumstances they would have had a lot more free reign, with the boots on the ground only directing the shots as necessary. “Be advised, we’re engaging now. Rockets out.”

The weapons officer on Viper-1 needed only a moment to sight the target. The roadblock was too big in one go, but he didn’t want to expend all of his ammunition at once either. Flicking a few controls, his fingers depressed the trigger at his disposal. In an instant, sixteen lightweight rockets, equipped with He-Frag-Penetrating warheads erupted from his gunship and down towards the earth below.

---

Simultaneously, Eelin ducked into a doorframe and pulled her body inwards. “Give ‘em hell Pierre!” she exclaimed, barely audible over the din of battle. Dagmar, across the street, lased the roadblock with a look of absolute glee on her tattooed face. She ran the risk of dislodging her jaw if she smiled any wider.

“Package on the way!” came the response; a deep, slightly scratchy, francophone-intoned bass.

In that same instant every other sound was obliterated into non-existence as the shells came raining down on the barricade with pinpoint precision. Five laser-guided high explosive 120mm mortar shells rendered the structure, its defenders, and most of the adjacent buildings a single step above gelatin.

A punctured fire extinguisher missiled past them, disappearing through a shop front to the rear of their convoy.

Eelin smiled. “Good effect on target Scotch. Reload and prepare for next salvo.”

“BOOM!” Dagmar exclaimed, reholstering her designator with one hand while gunning down a survivor with her heavy machine gun held akimbo-style in her other.

---

Clipper-1 and 2 also went into action, as they promised, spraying the formations of HDLF fighters that survived the initial rocket and naval gun barrages with rounds from 20 mm canon and .50 MG fire. They couldn’t use their rockets on the rebels on the tight streets for fear of collateral damage to the tenement buildings on all sides, but certainly a round or two went stray anyway.

Captain Olsen didn’t see a need to coax the group, who were operating independently at this point, and he kept silent as he rushed forward with his own team, careful not to hug the buildings for fear of ambush, but not in the center of the street where the vehicle convoy was.

The mixed foot component of Merchant, Banshee, Hammer, Raven teams, and Kirve’s group that weren’t riding the trucks and jeeps were spread out ahead and behind the Captain, barrels out to face any threat from the windows, alleys and side streets.

He winced as he saw the gunfire from Scotch, and the rockets from Viper land on the area of the roadblock. It was still around the curve of the road, so he couldn’t directly see the destruction, but hoped that it hadn’t cratered the road or created more debris than it cleared away.

As they quick marched, they soon came under retaliatory fire, with every rooftop, alleyway, and probably every 10th window coming alive and sprouting barrels of HDLF warriors. The Guild operators dashed for cover. RPGs streaked out and down to the street level.

---

Mavala Guild HQ

After the brief, Merlin was ready to finally clean up and unwind. He expected that Condor and Seahawk would have things in hand until he recuperated for a brief hour or two, a quick catnap also in his future. Once again, it was to be delayed…

“Sir, I think you better see this.”

“It can’t wait?”

“I don’t think so, sir. It’s about the signal intercepts from Mehatar.” The Intexa tech handed Merlin a triangulation map made from a photo.
“We’ve narrowed down the centerpoint to a building a little ways out from the Grande Hotel.” He pointed to the rooftop in the enhanced photo. “Aerial observation and assets say that the HDLF area commander is on that rooftop. SIGINT says he’s working a series of radios and cells to control his troops.”

“Good work. Inform Banshee Team Leader, and also…” He looked over an accompanying document that listed assets in that AO. He couldn’t recall offhand who was there, even though a day ago he probably could have. “...Clipper. They can take care of it. Send that LIRCAS we have with the jammer rig on it, just in case they set up again somewhere else in the city.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Run everything else through Condor. I am not to be disturbed unless we are under direct attack.”

“Understood.”

Finally, Merlin slipped away.

[RP Contributed by Jaragupta, Port Ember, Shalum, Falkasia, Terre des Gaules, and
Wandering Argonians]

[The Cardwith Islands]

The Following was released to the world media outlets hours before the landing of ISVC troops on Gahana:

The International Socialist Congress

To the people of the world community:

The people of Jaragupta have spoken.

For too long the people of Jaragupta have suffered under the deprivations of an oppressive and exploitative cartel that has held the worship of profit above any other faith, above the lives and well-being of its own people. Its abuses are plain for every reasoning person to see. Forced labor, the depopulation of entire islands, horrific working conditions leading to death and dismemberment, a criminal syndicate that categorically rejects the idea that all human beings are equal and worthy of liberty and freedom. The head of this cartel is called Rajah, his associates are called ministers and company bosses.

This cartel has employed mercenaries and pirates as tools of their oppression, knowing all too well that their own people would, if armed and trained, fight for the freedoms that are currently and ruthlessly denied them. They have stripped the land under their dominion of every resource that could be commodified, resources upon which the people of Jaragupta live and work and without which they face starvation and death. All of this wealth has flowed not to the Jaraguptan people, but into the hands of the Rajah, his oligarchic minions, and his corrupt and greedy foreign allies.

Indeed it is clear that the tyrant Rajah and his lackeys have long considered both the land and its people to be their personal property, to be exploited as they see fit for the greatest economic gain. Driven by greed they have descended upon their people like snarling wolves, wrenched them from their homes and loved ones, to be shipped off to island labor camps under the most abominable conditions. Savaal and Chamatkaar are testimonies to the illegitimacy of the Rajah’s syndicate, their original inhabitants exterminated to make way for these miserable and conscripted souls, their environments rendered incapable of sustaining life.

Recently, this has all changed.

Now the people of Jaragupta have taken their lives and freedoms into their own hands. After years of being preyed upon by a regime that does not represent them, by foreign companies that exploit them, by foreign mercenaries who destroy their very lives, they have risen to reclaim the fundamental rights that have been denied them. Their cause is that of life, liberty, and the sovereignty of free people, universal rights that even the most hypocritical of democratic nations claim to endorse. They have risen against a government that holds no moral standing by any metric held among civilized and humanitarian nations.

Against this quest for freedom the Rajah has resorted to the most cruel and murderous tactics against the people of Jaragupta. His mercenary forces have committed mass and indiscriminate arrests in a campaign of terror against the population. They have lit fire to entire villages, burning while alive all who resided inside, regardless of sex, including many children. Those who attempted to flee, they gleefully shot on sight. Assaulted on all sides by the Rajah’s forces, his mercenaries and foreign backers, the people of Jaragupta reached out in pain to any in the world who still listen to the cries of the oppressed, to any who still value freedom and basic human decency. They have found listeners only in the International Socialist Congress, we who know all too well the evils of oppression and the suffering that the corrupt and powerful bring down upon freedom-loving people.

We, the nations of the International Socialist Congress, moved to help the people of Jaragupta in their quest for liberty. It does not matter to us of what faith or creed they claim. The language of freedom is universal, and the suffering of the oppressed cannot be ignored by any who still have compassion and conscience in their souls. But the Rajah and his foreign backers have refused to end their ruthless exploitation and predation of Jaragupta. Our aid to Jaragupta has now come under deliberate and unprovoked assault. Pirates and criminals hired by the Rajah have fired upon a Pan-Asian humanitarian vessel, and now hundreds of our dead comrades share sacrifice with the Jaraguptans already victimized by these aggressors. If that was not enough the Rajah’s foreign pimps, the vicious Gauls, have now attacked without provocation or just cause a relief mission sent at the request of the Jaraguptan people.

This blatant aggression, in violation of all international norms, shall not stand. The sovereign people of Jaragupta fight the tyranny of the Rajah and his cartel alone no longer. The International Socialist Congress shall see that freedom and liberty prevail, and enable the Jaraguptans to control their own destinies for the first time in living memory. We shall fight to ensure the Rajah can no longer hide behind immense and greedy foreign interests to prop up his corrupt cartel. We shall fight for the liberty and equality of all Jaraguptan people, and for a free and sovereign Jaragupta!

The Central Committee
& The International Socialist Congress

The document was written originally by Sara Elise, The ISC Commissar of Justice, and the Representative of the Socialist Party of The People's Republic of Aedora. Commissar Elise brought it to the Central Committee, who had no objections and approved it without amendment for public release.

---

Gahana City Airport,
People’s Republic of Gahana

The ISVC had cleaned up the airport a bit, and where they couldn’t repair or use the buildings, they had set up pre-fab light weight structures for storage. Fuel bubbles were constantly being shifted around to refill aircraft. Transport VTOLs and helicopters continued to disgorge troops that were promptly loaded into trucks to either head north and east to Relu and other areas of the Island that still saw unrest, or back into the new capital city to set up on rooftops and strategic points around the city and further south.

ISVC Expeditionary Ground Command had temporarily set up in the terminal building that Yamala’s group had taken just hours before. Like the rest of the airport, they had done their best to clean up the building and make it serviceable. While the first wave of troops had been elite forces and top tier strikers from several nations, the second wave had been logistical and admin personnel to pave the way for the command and start setting up command and outposts and a logistical supply network. Now they ran around between modular terminals that held radar screens, displays of aerial feeds from various allied satellites that had been redirected over the battle area and were giving them constant real time updates of Gahana, the surrounding waters, and what was happening over on the main island.

Carme and Aruna had urgently approached Yamala after the media center was in full operation, cranking out the new broadcasts for the People’s Republic. They had concerns and they needed to take them to what military leadership the ISVC currently had on the island. Normally she would have told them to save it, but they had pleaded a good case. She assented to take them to where she knew the commanders were.

The Cardwithian PAST leader had borrowed a smaller L75 truck from their HDLF partners and loaded Carme and Aruna up into it.
“Come on, let’s go then. You wanted to do this, don’t get all scared now. You want to meet the bigwigs...You want to make a case, you will have to do it with them.”

“I hope the strength of our case outweighs our numerical disadvantage”, Aruna said in an attempt to make a joke out of it. It was true - it was two of them up against more than two bigwigs. The math didn’t look good on paper. (Though to be fair, Aruna didn’t like math that much.)

She drove them through the streets of the capital, having to take several detours around obstacles and crowds blocking streets. They still couldn’t get the population quite settled from all the celebrating and mob actions. Then they were on a road that took them through an industrial district, then out past fields and scattered buildings as the city was left behind and the airport was on their left, while the coast horizon was visible to the East. Heavy air traffic was still ongoing as helicopters and aircraft took off empty and landed to disgorge more ISVC soldiers and engineers.

They drove up a winding drive around an airstrip to come even to a building that was mostly intact, but for a few holes and bullet pockmarks here and there. Yamala put the truck in park in what had actually been a parking lot, aside from some rubble that had transformed it into a slightly different landscape.
Yamala started to get out and spoke over her shoulder,
“Here we go! I hope you two are ready for this. You’re going to have to get their attention.”

Aruna rubbed her hands together and audibly exhaled. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Carme, having spent much of the trip deep in thought gazing out the window, simply added, “Let’s go.”

They were stopped at the door by a guard, a Yellowsian soldier, but Yamala had a password ready. He let them through reluctantly. They weren’t locals, but they wore scrappy, dust covered civilian clothes.

The three entered the main doors to look at movable fabric covered wall barriers, airline gate desks, and terminal row seating stacked up to block a direct view and approach to where command was set up. It was a crude but effective security set up to give the mid-grade to higher officers time to scatter or defend themselves should an enemy intruder do a frontal attack. Windows were blacked out by various shades, papers and anything else that might obstruct a sniper’s view of the inside.

Once they cleared the makeshift wall, they saw the controlled chaos inside as junior officers rushed about and got the attention of ISVC commanders. There was a cacophony of half a dozen languages being spoken, but most defaulted to English/Common.

A large table was set up and several ISVC officers hovered over it, pointing at maps and having animated conversations. They included Colonel Otkell Drengursson, CO of the YSR’s 34th PRA Division, Colonel Trần Huỳnh Lộc of the 29th Great Viet Division, and Anteturmarchess Luna Lewis from the Diarcesian Shadow Turma, among a few others Yamala didn’t recognize.

A Cardwithian captain stepped in their way as she led their trio towards the table. She saw the patch for the CPA (Cardwithian People’s Army) on one shoulder, and one for the 141st Logistics Battalion on the other. His name tape said Jormaga.

“Uh, can I help you? We’re kind of in the middle of something here, Miss.”

“Be cool.” she mumbled in a low voice to Aruna and Carme. Then she addressed the captain.

“Yes, Captain Jormaga, you obviously don’t know me, otherwise you wouldn’t get in my face. I’m Yamala, PAST # 22 and Gahana CAIF Team leader. We need to speak to them.”

She pointed at the officers around the table.

His disdain was evident. PASD was the kinetic action arm directly under the ruling UFF political party, and not under military command. Because of this, the two Cardwithian organizations had always been at odds and even come to blows at times.
“They’re busy directing a war right now.”

“Yes, after setting up on the island we fought hard to give you on a platter. Fucking move out of the way, Poindexter!”

The fact that it was one of her own countrymen and a rear support soldier at that, emboldened her and stripped away any polite further attempt she might make.

The Yellowsian Colonel fast walked over, having overheard some of the verbal altercation.
“Ms. Yamala. I’m sorry, for this…” The Nordic officer pushed the Cardwithian soldier away and pointed him back to his station. “Thank you, Captain, I’ll handle this.”
He turned back to Yamala, Aruna and Carme.
“I was informed you were on your way. We are busy, so we’ll have to make this brief. I have to call Colonel Fodenka soon. What is this all about now?”

Yamala stepped back, looking at the two Gylians.
“You’re on.”

Carme nodded. “We’re here about Gahana,” she said, trying to get as to the point as possible. “It needs support.”

“The People’s Republic has just been proclaimed,” Aruna chimed in. “Recent uprising, all shambles, you can imagine. We need to get back to the city with details about what help they can expect.”

“Question is: what do we have on hand, and what can we spare for Gahana? For security and rebuilding. Basic supplies and health should be a priority.”

The Colonel nodded, and one might expect that he would have positive words to match the gesture, but..
“I’m sorry. That is not our main concern right now. You will need to make do with what is already on hand. Make repairs to the existing infrastructure and what not. Both our waterborne and air transports only have room for two things right now: troops, and the equipment they need to fight a war.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Aruna said with sympathy.

Carme thought. “We’ll assign the soldiers on Gahana to handle supply distribution, and the medics to treat the people.”

“Hopefully we can last through ‘til more supplies arrive.”

Colonel Drengursson frowned.
“Which soldiers are these that are going to treat and feed your people? My soldiers? We need all hands on deck right now for the defense, Miss. Sorry if I’m not being clear on this...We’re expecting a counter attack at any hour now. We even need every HDLF fighter. Why can these people not help themselves?”

Carme was slightly taken aback. “The ones that are stationed on Gahana, to defend it and help the People’s Republic. I didn’t mean any of yours, as you referred to them.”

“If you want to defend Gahana,” Aruna interjected, “I would start by not alienating the population right off. We’re not occupiers. This is the best way to win their trust. I don’t think helping hand out supplies in the area and treat the sick and injured would interfere that much with defensive preparations.”

“... Are you seriously asking why the people who just revolted against their exploiters can’t help themselves?”

Drengursson let out an incredulous chuckle himself.
“Whu…?”

Yamala could see both sides, and she knew what each party was basing their decisions on, but she didn’t see a way around the impasse any more than anyone else.
“Uh...Carme and Aruna here are part of the initial CAIF deployment to Gahana. They are political cadre. Agitators.”

“I see. I thought Brigadier Evans was with you all?”
Evans was legendary in the ISVC ranks, having helped to integrate and develop a lot of their urban guerrilla warfare doctrine before being relegated to the CAIF team for need of tactical officers.

“He is quite busy in the City with some last few tasks.”

“Well...he should have explained to you all what we’re trying to do here. I’m not trying to be unsympathetic to your plight...or the New People’s Republic rather, but...Yes, I’m mostly unsympathetic. We’re trying to form a bridgehead here…” He looked around for any of their local HDLF officers before continuing. The next part was not for their ears.

“Your new People’s Republic is a weigh station, a jumping point...window dressing...a political farce. An excuse for us to insert troops under the guise of political recognition of a new ally inviting us in for security and support. Nothing more than that. A means to an end. I personally don’t give a flying fuck about these people on this rotting, moldy, swampy island. When we have fuckin’ time, we’ll delegate some trucks, engineers and soldiers to the tasks you are requesting, but that time IS NOT NOW, ladies. We need all hands on deck for the next phase of action, which isn’t lollygagging about handing out rations, patching up old ladies’ fuckin’ corns, and kissing little malnourished, ugly babies. It’s actually preparing to fight off the Jaraguptans, Gauls and those filthy mercenaries…”

Aruna had stopped paying attention by the time Drengursson had admitted he didn’t care for Gahana beyond its value as a bridgehead for an invasion. She started talking over him when he raised his voice, shouting back “Thanks for the fucking solidarity, comrade” in her most acidic tone of voice, and then turned to Carme and, gesturing towards Drengursson, added, “<Can you fuckin’ believe this asshole?>”

A Tianxian NCO ran up almost out of breath and wide eyed. The Colonel held up a finger to him as he tried to give the CAIF team members one final verbal boot out the door.
“Now...if you’ll exc…”

The Tianxian ISVC trooper didn’t wait.
“Colonel. We have several...incoming missiles...from the Gaul fleet! Cruise, ballistic…”

Drengursson became deadly serious again. He knew that they were relying on the ISVN fleet’s long range radar and delayed satellite reports until they could get their own systems up and fully running on the Island. They had very little of a warning net until then. Nor did they really have many CIWS and anti-ballistic missiles in place yet to shoot down such missiles.
“How much time?”

The NCO looked at a nearby clock.
“Less than...two minutes.”

“Oh shit.” He turned to Yamala, Carme and Aruna. “Run! Run now! As fast as you can directly away from the airport!”

Yamala didn’t need any more encouragement as she was already pushing Carme and Aruna ahead of her towards the door.
“Fuck. Oh shit! Oh my god. Oh my fuckin’ god. Move!”

She had become incredibly religious at the moment, when she was normally an avowed atheist.
They were running around the security barrier that blocked direct egress or entrance from the main doorway, colliding with stacked chair legs that stuck out. Yamala felt what would surely be deep bruises later. “Run! Oh god”

Carme and Aruna didn’t need any prodding, nor did they hear much else after the first instruction. Sure, sounds still traveled into their ears, but they didn’t register. All that was on their mind was running. Nothing else mattered.

Carme accidentally knocked her elbow on a doorway while running away, and spent the moments rushing outside holding it and yelling obscenities in Catalan.

Behind the CAIF women, several other officers dashed for the same doors, knowing they were in the heart of a rich target for the Gauls if they were relying on their own satellite and aerial data. Some tripped and were stampeded over by others.

Colonel Drengursson didn’t move. He became supernaturally tranquil. He had already fated himself to figuratively go down with the ship. As he watched the mad scramble around him with detached interest, he thought about his family back in the YSR. They would be proud.

Aruna pulled slightly ahead in running, and reached out to grab Carme by the hand she’d hit, helping her keep up speed.

Yamala hesitated for the slightest of a moment as she ran even with the truck they had arrived in. She debated them hopping in, but decided they couldn’t take the risk. It would waste precious seconds and if it didn’t start up right away, or she fumbled the keys to the truck floor, they were truly dead.
She sprinted on past it, looking to make sure that Carme and Aruna were keeping up. They were in the grassy field beyond the parking lot now.

“KEEP YOUR MOUTHS OPEN! FIGHT THE URGE TO SHUT THEM, WHATEVER YOU DO!”

She didn’t have the time or breath to explain to them how concussive blast pressure worked, other than hoping they would trust her on that alone. If they shut their mouths when the multiple warheads struck and detonated, their eardrums could pop, their eyeballs could pop from their sockets, or even worse, catastrophic organ damage could happen. There was no mitigating the damage to the brain, and such injuries were cumulative, but hopefully they wouldn’t suffer much more in their lives to reach that fateful quota.

Slightly confused, Carme nevertheless shouted back, “OKAY! WE’LL DO THAT!”

Aruna made an okay sign from a distance, and added, “YOU’RE THE EXPERT!”

And thus Carme and Aruna carried on running, each helping push/pull each other ahead, and both with their faces stuck with open mouths.

They better not fucking make us shout nenikēkamen when we come back, Aruna thought. That rarely ended well.

---

Those out on the tarmacs had less warning time than the command staff in the terminal. As soon as the alert signal went out over the general band, helos and VTOLs began to take off, whether they had disembarked all their equipment and troops or not. None of them wanted to be destroyed on the ground in the biggest, juiciest target of the whole island of Gahana.

Troops held on to aircraft runners and wheels, attempting to claw their way back on board as the aircraft rapidly rose. If they stayed on the tarmac, they faced certain death. Many fell to their death or horrible injury anyway, unable to keep clinging on. Some were kicked loose by their own comrades so the aircraft could safely and stably take off. Still, not all of the grounded aircraft made it out in time.

Two of the operating anti-missile systems that the ISVC had managed to get in operation were, in fact, at Gahana City Airport. Both of them launched, simultaneously hitting one inbound Gaulic missile almost a kilometer up in the air before it had a chance to disperse its multiple warheads in the final stage. However, unfortunately, another missile traveling almost a parallel arc to the first got through, splintering off it’s warheads to spiral down to the Airport facilities and airstrips.

As predicted, one of those warheads struck not directly, but near enough to the terminal where the command staff sheltered. Colonel Drengursson, the Cardwithian logistics captain, the Tianxian NCO, and over a dozen other officers were immediately shredded as the blast tore into the former terminal building. The valuable equipment was also destroyed and several more aides, support personnel and officers lay scattered on and under debris, seriously to mortally wounded.

Another warhead exploded upon the air traffic control tower, blasting the top of it off and scattering large chunks of flaming debris all over the main airstrip, as well as some falling back to tunnel through the terminal roof. None of the controllers inside survived. Other warheads detonated into the airstrips, cratering them. Several aircraft, including transport helios and a heavy cargo lifter had been hit by large shrapnel. They lay smashed, burning, and smoking on the airstrip, some with crew and troops laden with gear scattered in death around them.

Others impacted on the northern Gahana coastal roads where ISVC troops were convoying west. Any vehicles near the blasts loaded with troops were tossed like a child’s toys sprinkling men and women far and wide. A team setting up a small portable radar were scythed down.

Two missiles hit Relu, with another two were knocked out by the anti-ballistic screen in effect so far as the ISVC could get established at that time. In an odd twist of fate and horrible case of friendly fire, one took out the gendarme holdouts that had barricaded themselves at Relu Airport. This was later blamed on faulty intelligence, that the Gaul weapons control officers were informed that Relu had already fallen and set coordinates accordingly. The other struck wide from where it was supposed to impact a temporary encampment of ISVC troops. It did minimal damage but did cause some considerable civilian casualties. This was later used for propaganda by the People’s Republic.

A final missile impacted on the outskirts of Gahana City, hitting a fuel and supply depot set up by the new ISVC allies of the liberated Gahanans.

---

They were in a field. Yamala focused on the horizon, where they could see the taller buildings of Gahana City in the distance over the brief stretch of bush and fields past the city limits. Closer, she focused on a tree that had swooping bow branches and vines drooping off of it. It was a pleasant sight if it were to be her last. She gasped loudly, doing as she had advised Carme and Aruna to do in keeping one’s mouth open as much as possible.

Then they felt it. The clap as the nearest warhead struck next to the terminal they had left just over a minute ago. It was followed by the blast wave and shortly thereafter by a thunderous roar.

Yamala was lifted off her feet, propelled forward. She flailed her arms, trying to bring them forward against the pressure thrusting her outward. She was determined to break her fall when she hit the ground once again, but it was like she was trapped in a centrifugal tube like the kind you find in amusement parks.

She gave up on that strategy as every nanosecond passed and she got closer to the ground and thus she just tried to turn so that she didn’t impact face first into the earth, instead trying to roll sideways like a sausage. In that, she was successful, terra firma still hitting hard on her shoulder.

She hoped that the two Gylians had fared better than her, but she was confident that they had at least survived with their lives.

Carme and Aruna had made a good distance in a different direction but still felt the blast wave. Aruna was pushed forward, and managed to turn herself in the air so that she at least fell back on the ground with her back rather than her front. Carme, accidentally tripping and stumbling forward at the moment the blast arrived, was thrown forward in a spin.

Once the wave receded, Aruna ran off to get her colleague. She found Carme dazed and dizzy on the ground. There were some slight bruises and cuts on her hands and feet.

“Carme? Carme?”, she called out, shaking her to help her regain consciousness. “Are you with me?”

“Mra…”

That groan was good enough a sign for Aruna. “How are you feeling?”

Carme clutched her head and managed to get a sentence out between groans and gasping for breaths. “Horrible… dizzy.” She clutched her stomach. “Fuck, I hope I don’t puke.” She then went over her body to make sure she was still in one piece.

Yamala started at a crawl, then was able to pick herself up and sort of crouch walk over to Aruna and Carme a few meters away. She heard the last bit as she closed the distance.
“You probably have at least a mild concussion, Carme. Yeah, I’m fine, too. Thanks for asking, comrades.” She coughed as she felt over her heavily bruised shoulder she had landed on. It felt like it was on fire, even through the adrenaline and haziness she felt. Her head slightly ached, too, but perhaps her focus on her shoulder was masking that pain.

For the first time, she looked back over at the terminal and control tower that looked like some giant had taken a hammer to them. Black plumes of smoke rose up from several other areas of the airport. Her eyes focused in closer. A big chunk of rubble had planted itself into the hood and front windshield of their truck. There was no way it was going to run again after that.
“Fuck. Fuck me. I’m going to see what we can do for them. Just hang tight here. We don’t know if there’s more on the way.”

She would also need to figure out how they were getting back to the City. There was no way they were walking all the way back in this condition. She would use her considerable wiles to get rides for them, or just appropriate a vehicle outright. She wondered what Martin was up to and if he and their own little command group had weathered the attack.

[CO-RP’d with Gylias, Mubata, Yellow Star Republic, and Jaragupta]

[Jaragupta]

Shravapran Sadak
The Battle in Mehatar

HDLF fighters were flung in all directions as the rockets and naval gunfire shredded them and blasted aside the flaming dumpsters, barrels and other debris they had used to block the road.
Very few survived, and most that did were crawling away, many of them to expire later in a corner or alley as the battle raged on without them.

While most of the Guild ordinance exploded on and over the roadblock debris, some of it blasted through to the road below, causing small craters which would likely be considered decent sized pot-holes on this side of the world. The corners of the buildings saw gaping holes torn out of the sides. An inert HDLF fighter slumped out from one of the holes, one arm dragging on the wall, the other completely missing.

Gursharan’s lieutenants led their groups, figuratively more than firmly, into battle despite the initial losses. They rushed out from the side streets and leaned out from the surrounding buildings to try to recover the ambush and bring retribution for their comrades. They were met with well aimed rifle fire and hammered in the back from the enemy aerial support that hovered close to and over the bay.

---

Gursharan cursed in Punjabi as he watched the roadblock and a good amount of his men get shredded from his rooftop perch.
“Move! Move, you fucks! Attack! Don’t let up!”
He roared into one cell and radio after another, grabbing or shoving aside the young boys in their color coded shirts to snatch the communication devices out of their hands, or give them back as needed.

He grabbed the boy in black, who was sweating profusely in the hot sun. He yanked the radio out of his hand and brought it to his mouth.
“Zamarkhan, move! Close the bottle!”

He began to notice a shadow crossing over nearby buildings and the drone of beating blades growing closer. He looked up to see one of those odd looking helicopter plane mixes swooping in, flames flashing and winking, visible as the glaring sunlight was beginning to fade into early evening. Belatedly he realized that his Mubatan ISVC friends had abandoned him and the rooftop for safer confines. They had been right.

---

Zamarkhan didn’t need that last prompt from Gursharan to know how to make his people move and what his maneuver meant for their force.
His group was sweeping up from behind, hugging the buildings and moving from cover to cover through the park recently vacated by the mercenaries. Like the bulk of the HDLF, most were clad in rudimentary sandals, shorts and ragged pants and white or beige shirts, stained from sweat, dirt and constant wear. It was the outfit of the Hamikh proletariat people. Only the bandoliers and web belts demonstrated that they were not typical civilians. They also carried assault rifles of various manufacture, along with some RPGs and satchels. They had been well trained in the past couple months by their ISVC advisors.

They were to be the hammer that would smash the enemy mercenaries into the anvil that was the roadblock up ahead, although from the cacophony and plumes of black smoke, it seemed that anvil might have already had a hole smashed through it.

Just minutes past when those in the side buildings opened up on the besieged convoy, Zamarkhan’s group swarmed in a half circle up on the rear guard of the Guild group, starting to pick away at them.

[Vionna-Frankenlisch]

Gahana City, People’s Republic of Gahana

Brigadier General Martin Evans, late of the 5th Artillery Brigade, found himself in uncharted waters. Gahana had won her independence, at less of a cost than they expected. However, once the day's mayhem had subsided, the island would awake without a government. At least, with the barest semblance of one. There was little Martin could do to change that now, but he had provided the new nation with an army…

The Gahana HDLF, like a phoenix, had been reborn as the Army of the People of Gahana or the APG. In the absence of any alternative, and with the grinning support of his fellow Vionna-Frankenlishcians, not to mention the HDLF fighters who idolised him, Martin Evans had accepted the temporary burden of commanding the new force.

Exhausted from the attack on the gendarmerie, the sixty-two-year-old officer filled his canteen with cold coffee from an abandoned coffeehouse and set about getting the situation in hand. The attack on the airport, as far as he could glean, had been a costly success. With the arrival of ISVC ground forces, victory on Gahana was guaranteed but he still had to ensure that his hard-pressed command was not made piecemeal and wiped out before support could arrive. The remaining shell of the gendarme station could not serve as any kind of stronghold but the flag of the new republic flew over it and it was the closest thing to a headquarters available. Evans moved his technicals, conspicuous by the absence of their disorderly commander, Fenton, into the relative safety of the compound walls and sited his machine guns and grenade launcher to cover the entrances.

Evans now had to gain some grasp over his scattered forces. The demonstrations had done their work, but those involved could still be useful. Most of the demonstrators, of course, were uninvolved with the former HDLF but, inspired by the day’s events, full of excitement and hope for the future, Evans was certain that many of them would make eager recruits for the new APG. Thus, he would have to act fast before they calmed down. Radio equipment was scarce and few of Evans’ sections were reachable by such methods. He was, therefore, forced to dispatch runners to those units. Over radio and by runner, he sent out a general order to the Army of the People of Gahana. All forces were to retire in the direction of the gendarmerie, which was to act as the temporary headquarters of the APG. Once there, all non-HDLF fighters were to swear an oath to the new Republic and sign on as soldiers of the APG, promised kit and pay as soon as possible. The buildings in the vicinity of the gendarmerie would be secured with a gun at every window. Gahana had been won, it would not be lost again...