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

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Mahil Residence
Suraksha, Jaragupta

---

After a long and successive brrrrrrrrt, tearing up the living room of the residence, puncturing holes into the walls, and breaking all sorts of vases, clocks, chairs, and other trinkets, the guns of the Shalumite forces ceased followed by a call for surrender. As the smoke cleared, it became apparent that three ISVC operators who had not ducked or did not duck low enough had fallen dead upon the floor. A fourth was in critical condition, Soldier Naasiruddeen, his knee bleeding profusely, his body fallen flat upon a flight of stairs - the Shalumite mercs had shot a boy no less than 17 who now cried in pain for his mother.

Instinctively, the Captain's men fired back. With the safety of their rifles off, set to full automatic, some aimed to suppress the foe that had come to challenge them - whilst others aimed to kill and nothing else. Hamar screamed at his men to cease, but his words fell on deaf ears. He himself knew that this firefight would be pointless, and that doom awaited them all.

Warrant Officer Rajarjo Barus unleashed a primal and dauntless roar as he locked his magazine into his weapon, firing from the cover of a window pane. His shots were precise and deadly, firing one long burst towards the mercs out in the open. A volley of return-fire rained upon him as he swiftly went prone, his neck leaning behind the wall next to the pain.

Hamar ducked behind a table, realizing his men were determined to fight until the end. It dawned upon him that, if incarcerated by the Jaraguptans, he and his men would more than likely end-up as bargaining chips like the seamen of the Honshu, or worse, wind up dead anyway. Men and boys, fathers and sons, now fought side by side inside the Mahil residence, daring the enemy to come at them. Their fate was set in stone.

"To victory or martyrdom!" screamed Captain Hamar with gallant enthusiasm. "Do you boys want to live forever?! Fire, fire, fire!"

Another volley of rifle-fire from the insurgents answered the merc's call for their surrender. Hamar dropped his rifle and assembled a lunge-mine from under the Mahil household's coffee table, covered by suppressive fire from his men, rushing out the window and towards the nearest armored car. "Up the workers' republic!"

[Port Ember]

The Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

Rolling riots continued on the streets of the capital, just blocks from the Palace. Windows were smashed, anti-government painted tags decorated every corner, and blood stains from beaten rioters still could be seen on many patches of pavement, from a succession of nights previous.

Still, many people tried to carry on, heading to work, driving deliveries, and willing to put up with checkpoints all across the city.

This tension which was rapidly building upon the streets of the capital had a profound effect upon the inhabitants of the palace as well. Since the conflict had erupted, the Palace inhabitants had mostly experienced the unrest by means of reading about it in the daily newspapers, hearing of it on the radio, seeing it on the televisions or discussing it in briefings. Now that was all changed. Now the tension and conflict could physically be heard, be seen, and even smelled. This led to the Myrmidon contractors taking extra precautions in ensuring the security of the Palace, including venturing into the depths of the palace secretly, attempting to learn of all the secret corridors and rooms which the Royal Guard has failed to share the existence of such. Plans were put in place as to where explosives and other traps could be set up in a hurry for if (or when?) a direct assault would be carried out upon the Palace. Various evacuation drills were planned and executed to the point of exhaustion. The contractors could only hope that the Royal Guard would remain loyal to their Rajah. They did know that they needed to keep their eyes fixed on them however, as hope alone would not ensure their survival. "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst" was not a Port Emberian Military mantra for nothing.

Giving breath to this mantra, Corey Shaw decided that he needed to get into the mind of General Uraban Halaganda, since it was his possible wavering loyalty which landed Corey's firm this specific contract in the first place, and was the deciding factor on just how much his life would be sucking in the near future. To this end, he kept tabs on the staff officers closest to the General. One such officer stood out in particular - Major Bagheera Vamataryinja. He was serving in the capacity as the Deputy Palace East Wing commander, and was thus quite close to the General, and close to his thoughts. Furthermore, background checks dictated that he had quite a large family in the form of a wife and six school-going children, opening the possibility to fall susceptible to bribes. Lastly, close observations on the subject did not detect any visible symptoms of extreme loyalty to the General, beyond the evidently strong Royal Guard esprit de corps.

After an extended period of keeping very close tabs on the Major, Corey decided to strike in this deadly game of shadow chess. On one early morning, the numerous eyes on the Major indicated that he was alone and without immediate commitments, and thus Corey Shaw "happened" upon the Major in passing whilst on a routine patrol throughout the East Wing of the Palace. Once Corey spotted the Major, he smiled warmly on approach and greeted in a friendly tone, "Good morning, Major. It is a pleasure to see you once again, Sir."
Major Vamataryinja looked up, startled to actually be addressed by one of the Myrmidon...No the Myrmidon leader on site. Unlike some of his peers, he had attended the Nurapal Maanavikee aur Vigyaan Akaadamee (Nurapal Academy of Humanities and Sciences), the top school in the capital here that offered both secondary and university education. Coming from an average working class Tamar family, he never would have had the opportunity if not for a scholarship based on academic merit. To the chagrin of his family, instead of becoming a doctor, scientist, or barrister, he had ‘squandered’ his elite education in favor of joining the Royal Guard, one of, if not the most, powerful institutions in the Kingdom. Due to his education, he understood and spoke English very well, unlike some in the Royal Guard.
“Er...um, good morning to you as well, Sir. The honor is mine.” He felt more on the spot than honored. “How is it you find yourself today?”
Bagheera looked around to see who was observing this interaction. He would have to report to the General, if not the full detail, that an interaction had occurred, at least, just to cover himself.

Corey immediately noticed the tension and hesitation in Bagheera's voice and body language, knowing he must not push his luck too far. "I'm well as can be Major, gratitude. I trust that you too, are well? Please don't be alarmed with me striking up a conversation, I simply wish to hear if your preparations and readiness are in place, considering the growing unrest outside the walls. Warrior to warrior, I would like to hear if you need any assistance. After all, we both want the same thing."

Major Vamataryinja brushed at an invisible bit of lint on his uniform, finally focusing on the Port Emberian.
“Alarmed? Don’t be silly, Mr. Shaw. Of course we need to coordinate security. We’re on the same side, yes?”
He glanced around again, then up to where he knew a camera would be in the bend of the hallway, recording everything but audio.
“I think we’re doing well enough. I know that the presence of your force has enabled us to send more units on the streets to help our brother gendarmes around the capital.”
It was a lie. In fact, General Halaganda had recalled more Royal Guard units off the streets, to the detriment of the gendarmes and local constabulary, in order to make an anticipatory show of force with the Mymidon mercenaries. In closed door briefs with the RG command staff, Halaganda had outright said he saw them as a potential threat to the Kingdom. He had said that his fear was that the Guild might decide to pull a coup and take over for some mystery third party client. The hallways in the Palace had been quite uncomfortable and cramped lately due to this move.
“Have you...uh, talked to the General about helping us with preparations for an attack?”

As Bagheera mentioned the segment of his forces patrolling actively within the streets, Shaw’s one eyebrow shifted upwards, nearly impossible to notice to the untrained eye. This was his "tell" when he noticed a lie. The Myrmidon contractors were not blind to the swelling Guard numbers within the Palace, neither did they ignore the field reports from the outside events. Corey however, decided to not call the Major out on this obvious lie. When the Major posed his question, Corey instantly responded. "We did not discuss specifics of course, although it was agreed that the coordination and cooperation of forces are imperative. During my military days, objectives were provided, specifics were left into the hands of capable leaders such as yourself, Major. Again, I stress that we both want the same thing, don't we?"

“You honor me, sahib...Sir.” He’d never been called ‘capable’ by any of the Colonels or the General.
“Yes, I should hope that we want the same thing. The safety of the Rajah and the continuity of the Kingdom. We might have different ideas of how to insure that.”

Shaw nodded in agreement, feeling that the conversation was quite possibly moving into the direction he had wanted it to. "You took the words straight out of my mouth, Major. The fact is that the safety of both the Rajah and the Kingdom is directly tied to my paycheck and the prestige of my company. If the status quo remains intact here, I am able to return home and provide a future for my family. If the Rajah falls, or the Kingdom's ownership changes hands - I will be out of a career for eternity, and consequently starving my children. Now as high-stakes as this situation is for me personally, I can only imagine the repercussions a change of political leadership would hold for you personally. Your current enemy would be your new boss, and if history has taught us anything, is that the victor is never kind to the symbol of his struggle when transforming the nation. Your career, your life and the lives and possible future of your family would be in grave danger. Not only for you personally, but for all of the men under your command. Now as a former military man myself, this danger rings very close to home, thus I would not be able to live with myself if that happened here. Like I said before Major - I am here to assist."

Vamataryinja nodded as the Westerner continued. He held his peace and listened. The man had points. When he was sure the foreigner was done, he spoke,
“I am glad that you are here to assist us, Sahib Shaw. The Shahi Rhakavali didn’t ask for your assistance, but it’s nice to know we have it all the same. You and I are different. Sorry if that troubles you. You are correct that if we fail, it will have dire consequences for myself, my comrades, and my family...all our families. However, I don’t believe you are as invested as we are. If you fail, you say you lose a paycheck. I don’t even believe that. This is the age of the mercenary. You can always pick up another paycheck elsewhere. Another time, another company. Me and my comrades, if we fail...There’s no more paychecks, no more life. Nothing."

Corey realised that the Major was a tough nut to crack, and getting him on their side would be harder than he had originally anticipated. However he could not give up, the stakes were simply just too high. Corey nodded before replying,
"Of course Major, it's impossible to be as invested in this matter the way you are. You and your family and your men's families lives here - the backlash would be immediate and direct. I have not claimed that I stand to lose more than you, and never shall I. However Major, please don't underestimate my commitment and conviction to this mission. I'm not sure how much you know about my home nation, so allow me to enlighten you. My nation is the poster child for free market Capitalism - meaning the market has near unlimited options to choose from when looking for a company to employ. And word spreads like wild forest fire on the islands. In simple economics, this means that if my company fails to succeed in this mission, it means that we are known as washout has-beens. No one employs washout has-beens, Major. That means the company goes bankrupt in mere moments. And because I am associated with this company, no other employer will touch me with a ten foot pole. And since being a warrior is the only profession I have ever practiced, I will never be able to bounce back from such a setback. I will lose my house, and I will allow my children to starve. I will not be able to send them to college, and they will be doomed to work for peanuts down at the Port for eternity, turning into alcoholics who beats their wives and neglects their children. And that cycle will continue viciously and indefinitely. Thus Major, I am most definitely invested in this mission."

Vamataryinja shrugged. He thought Shaw was going a little over the top with his circumstances, overstating and exaggerating the consequences. He had witnessed white guilt before, at Nurapal, with some of his white foreign student friends. They always tried to put themselves in the same shoes as the downtrodden brown people and they failed, but it didn’t discourage them from trying. He was not going to argue though and tell Shaw he could likely sign on to the USG, SSI or...possibly Blackwood, if this didn’t work out. Which he could.
“I’m glad to hear how invested you are, Mr. Shaw. We have the same goals then.” They didn’t. “It was good to touch base with you. I do have to attend a brief in a few minutes here with the General and my superiors, if you didn’t have anything else…?”

Corey could not be one hundred percent certain, but by reading through the subtext and body language, he was suspecting that he had failed to break through to the Major. This was a problem. This would take time it seems. Corey forced a smile as he replied, "Of course, Major. Let me not keep you. It was an honor to have this chat, I sincerely hope we can catch up again soon. Besides, my company likes to smile with their deep pockets upon those whom they consider friends. To your health and wealth, Major."

Bagheera froze, his body going much more rigid as a wave of fear and uncertainty washed over him. Deep pockets? There wasn’t much other way he could read that phrase. The question was if this was a trap or a genuine offer? He was already on a dangerously thin line, talking to the ‘enemy’, in his peers’ minds. He looked around again for eyes, other than the hall camera. If it came down to it, he could edit the footage in the control room, but that would leave a deeper trail that would eventually be found. It was better to be upfront, except for this last bit. Even were he not to be tempted, just the knowledge that he was approached could put him deep in the bowels of the Palace in one of the Shahi Rhakavali’s secret rooms, chained and beaten to a centimeter near death.

One of his lieutenants was approaching, just turned round the bend.
“We only have a minute.” He tilted his head slightly down the hall. “I would hope we could chat again soon, as well, Mr. Shaw. Perhaps in the Gardens, near the Ganesh statue, at say...2100?”
Bagheera inwardly winced. What was he doing? He would get himself killed. Am I really interested in taking Myrmidon money? Or do I want more evidence so I can give a full report on the duplicity of the mercenary leader to the General? Yes, that is it. I need to hear more.

Corey smiled on the inside, feeling that he might have finally achieved an advantage in this game of shadows. However, it could very well be a trap which would result in him ending up on the wrong side of a firing squad. But he knew he had to thrust forward non the less, the risks of not having eyes and ears on the General were just too high. The General could not be trusted - simple as that. Corey responded with a soft nod, "If I recall correctly, my nightly patrols does indeed see me pass that statue around that time Major." Corey nodded again, this time in a more animated matter and walked off past him, down the corridor.

---

Within seconds, the Lieutenant was even with Major Vamataryinja while Shaw was quickly striding down the hall and turning the corner.
“Sir, was that Mr. Shaw? The Myrmidon leader?”

“It was.”

“What did he want, Major?”

“He wanted to discuss coordinating security.” No need to lie about that, it wasn’t an odd request and it wouldn’t aid him to pretend they hadn’t talked at all when there were eyes on them. He still would need to think about doctoring that hallway camera footage, especially for that last minute if their lips were visible.

“Security? If…”

“Do you suddenly feel it’s appropriate to question me and my affairs, Lieutenant? Did someone tell you that suddenly Lieutenants outranked Majors? That fish climb mountains and snakes can fly? The sky is green and trees are purple? Has anything in the natural order dramatically shifted in the last few minutes that I’m not aware of?

“N-no, Sir.”

“Then what is your purpose?”

“I beg your forgiveness, Major. My only purpose right now is to tell you that Colonel Lankamishra is very upset that you are late to the General’s briefing.”

“Bakaree ka baksha!! Oh no! I’m on the way now. Radio ahead to the door guards.”

Bagheera began to fast walk, almost breaking into a trot as he raced towards the secret elevator on this floor. He had to wait until a servant was out of sight before opening the cover door and clambering in. It took him to a sublevel of the Palace, a floor that only Royal Guardsmen were allowed on, with death possible to those who weren’t sworn into the Shahi Rhakavali.
He showed his badge at a set of double doors while his fingerprint was scanned and face scrutinized. He was then let into the conference room. It was stark, monochromatic, and a particularly hostile room to him now, as eyes glared, including the General’s.

He made his way past them, sidling into where Colonel Lankamishra stood. The Colonel spoke quietly,
“So nice of you to join us, Major Vamataryinja.”

“I am so sorry, Colonel. I was held up by Mr. Shaw.”

The Colonel’s eyebrow rose.
“We shall definitely discuss that later.”

The Major had just added another layer to covering his bases with being spotted chatting with Corey Shaw.

Major Vamataryinja looked around the room. There was only one General of the Royal Guard, and he stood at the podium. There were 3 Colonels, 4 Lieutenant Colonels, and 8 Majors in the ranks of the Guard representing facility and perimeter security, city and surrounding patrols, and investigations. They all stood here now in this sound proof, blast proof room. A very rare and risky meeting of all the highest command of the Royal Guard, with no one under the rank of Major present. It was not the routine briefing that Major Vamataryinja had expected, which usually was divided into the East or West Wing, inner and outer security, etc.

General Halaganda cleared his throat angrily, continuing something he had evidently started previous to the Major’s entrance.
“...We must be diligent. We will find our backs against the wall yet again. We are seeing a military commander that is supposed to be the Rajah’s right hand man, cowering in his quarters. He will not do what is necessary to halt this Marxist uprising. The Marshal must either act, or step aside. We have always done more than be glorified bodyguards. We have aided our brethren gendarmes in keeping and restoring order in the Kingdom, especially here in the streets of Mavala.

We need to look to a time when the Kingdom will be given up by those weaklings in power. The Rajah himself might not be able to lead us through the darkest times here. Instead of being ruthless, he is convinced by his advisers to negotiate and bargain away our nation. He has let the HDLF run rampant in our southern cities, and now, Gahana, the very footprint of Lord Brahma, is lost due to the carelessness of the Marshal. The JRA are tripping over their own dicks. They are without proper leadership and that will lead to the barbarians right at our gates. That’s not a figure of speech, gentlemen. That is a tangible fact that we are facing.

They already are running loose in Mavala. What patrols we do have out there are scooping up saboteurs as we speak by the dozens. You all know it. These Westerner mercenaries are useless. They torch children and arrest old ladies instead of rebels. They shoot up residences in Suraksha. They line their pockets while they watch the JRA become canon fodder and they sit back and sip cocktails and play video games. They have their henchmen in here...in The Palace, guarding us. They guard the guards while the red flags fly over Gahana and Mehatar!!

Your Kingdom, the holy holy Kingdom blessed by Shiva herself, is being hacked to pieces and sold off to the capitalists and the communists, not to mention the heathen Hamikhs. You have to make a decision, and we will all have to make it soon. Do we allow it to continue until there’s nothing left, or do we become the only Jaraguptans to take a stand?

Either the Rajah will welcome our strong leadership, or he will stand in our way and disgrace his father and father’s fathers and so on. We all know that even deities fall. If he must fall, then with sorrow, we must end him ourselves instead of seeing his head on a communist pike. We must have the difficult courage to step in before it is too late. You were born Tamars. You have an oath from birth to keep our people, the shepherds of all Jaraguptan peoples, at the top. If we fail, we all die. Not just in battle, but as the Tamar people. We are on the brink of extinction, and we are the last sentinels to keep that from happening. The time is soon, officers and warriors. The time is soon and you need to prepare your minds, as well as your bodies.
Go now, command your men. I should not have to say that this does not leave this room.”

“General, sir, How will we prepare our men for the proper time if we cannot brief them now?”

“When the time comes, Colonel, your men will understand. Go.”

General Halaganda walked out with two of his Colonels, meeting aides outside the doors. The Major remained, exchanging glances with his fellow officers who also stood in a state of shocked paralysis in the room. They had all heard the General exhort that they were all alone in terms of their level of dedication, but he had never uttered such treason as the actual regicide of their ruling Rajah to them. At least not to all the assembled officers in one room, as far as most of them knew.

Bagheera finally left the room with the others. He felt in a haze, but not for the same reasons that many of his fellow Shahi Rhakavali officers did. They felt their true calling had finally been outlined. He felt that his alignment with a treasonous, illogical leader had finally been revealed and he might have to take steps to correct it.

---

Colonel Lankamishra had pulled him aside after the brief to question him about his face to face with Shaw. The Major told him about everything except for the ‘deep pockets’ comment and the arranged meet up later. In that context, it was pretty mundane.
“Oh, he’s been doing that to all the officers. You did fine. Be polite but push him off, like you did. Every time. Report it to me and we’ll deal with it at the appropriate time.”
What the Colonel didn’t mention at all was the extreme act of treason of General Halaganda just moments earlier. It told Bagheera everything he needed to know about where the Colonel stood there. He would have to watch his own back at every turn from here on out.

The Major went about the rest of the evening checking on his men and wrestling with his thoughts.
He had been ready to find out what Shaw wanted and report him straight away. He could help to peel off that layer of the Guild from Jaraguptan affairs and leave the Royal Guard to save the day. He had never thought they could take over the duties of the Army, though, and under no circumstances had he thought he might need to be ready to kill their Rajah. The leader of the Tamar people couldn’t also be the enemy of the Tamar people. Nothing the Rajah had done had been daming proof of any treasonous nature, unlike General Halaganda.

When the time approached, he was ready. He knew the placement of all the cameras and when patrols would traverse his path. He managed to slip his way clear to the Gardens behind the Palace while evading 7 patrols, 12 cameras, and 8 sensors, due to his knowledge of his own force’s security measures. He had exactly 24 minutes before he would need to be on his way. He waited in a large bush next to the Ganesha statue, which was another blind spot and why he had suggested it as a meeting place. He tore off patches of moss from the surrounding stones to kneel in so his uniform knees didn’t become muddy. Now to see if the Port Emberian would keep his word.

As the clock drew closer to the agreed upon meet, Corey readied himself both physically and mentally. Physically, he ensured that his modern, almost skin-tight and paper thin bullet proof vest were fitted snugly and securely around his chiseled frame before fitting his snow white, perfectly ironed collar shirt, rounded off with his favorite black tie, tied in the most perfect knot possible. Next came his leather pistol shoulder straps, again double checked for being snug and secured. A fully loaded and 'one round in the chamber' CSP-21 pistol took its place in said shoulder strap. His suit pants were then fastened with a neat leather belt after the crisp white shirt was tucked neatly inside. His shiningly clean and neat leather office shoes were fastened properly after slipping on a fresh pair of black wool socks. Next came his smart watch, tightened around his right wrist. A neat feature of this watch is that it secretly contained a tracking device which kept his entire team informed regarding his real time position, should things go awry. It also contained a secret audio recording device. This watch was a standard issue to all Myrmidon contractors, and they were carried as a badge of honor on top of its operational uses. Corey's communication earpiece was fitted next, before finally fitting and fastening his neat black suit jacket.

Mentally, he steeled himself for the meeting, calming and reassuring himself that the coming meeting was indeed a dangerous, yet absolutely necessary endeavor. Myrmidon were hired by the Guild from the get-go for the purpose of halting a possible future coup attempt by the Royal Guard, as their commanding officer, General Halaganda, could no longer be trusted.

These fears of the Guild seemed to carry some merit, as the Royal Guard were never openly hostile towards Corey and his team - but there was definitely a thick cloud of tension hanging in the air between the two parties. The uniformed lads actively evaded the contractors and acted extremely cold towards them. As an example, the team had reported that the guards reported every single interaction between the two parties to their superiors, even if only simple greetings were exchanged. And that's not even mentioning the fact that Corey had requested blueprints of the Palace ever since their arrival. Handing over the documents was still stalled with the normal bullshit excuses of administrative red tape and other complications.

Although the team had prepared as much as humanly possible for a possible coup attempt in physical terms, they were still figuratively flying blind, having no informant on the inside, thus ensuring their enemy the benefit of surprise should such a day come to pass. This was unacceptable, as it would surely spell the death of the entire team. This meeting HAD to happen and be a raging success, at that.

As Corey walked towards the meeting spot, he did not attempt to hide from the known patrols, security cameras, and sensors. This was done intentionally, as his movement would coincide with his nightly patrols around the same route and time and would not raise any suspicion from any observers.

Furthermore, Corey could not be completely sure of all the security measures in place within the Palace, and thus, if one of the unknown cameras would catch him sneaking about whilst dodging the known cameras, he would be signing his own death warrant on the spot. He walked slowly, observing the area, taking in every detail of his surroundings, just like every other night. Once he arrived at the statue in question he found the faint dark outline of the Major within a thick bush adjacent to the ancient Ganesha statue. Shaw immediately felt good at this sight. A man - nay, a senior officer who felt the need to hide within his own home from his own people was most definitely contemplating to take an action against home and hearth. Without wasting time, Corey whispered to the shadow in the bush, "Lovely weather for some bush meditation, yes?"

Bagheera scooted out from the bush. He scowled as he rose up, explaining,
“We’re out of lens view, but I didn’t want to be suprised out here by one of my men. I’m off the grid right now. I don’t have much time before my absence will be noticed. You made an odd comment when we spoke earlier today.”

Shaw realised that the Major obviously did not share the bland and untimely sense of humor which Port Emberians possessed, and continued to nod as he offered his reply in a hushed tone, "I understand the technicalities Major, I was simply painting a hog."

Major Vamataryinja tilted his head almost imperceptibly at the Westerner expression, which failed to hit the mark as much as the humor that preceded it.

The ever present soft smile of Corey suddenly vanished as the meeting was obviously now in second gear. The next few moments had the potential to decide the fate of countless lives - and Corey had to ensure that the dice of life fell in his favour. For the first time since he had arrived within the Kingdom, a serious tone emitted from the lips of Corey as he continued in his response,
"There was nothing odd about what I said, Major. I had hoped that I was perfectly clear, and if I were not, allow me to clarify. As I have told you before, I would very much like to leave this Kingdom one day alive, and with the current Rajah still seated upon his holy throne. To that end, Port Emberians are well known for being very generous friends - when they can benefit from a fruitful relationship. So I am extending that opportunity to you Major - supply me with information which will ensure that my men and myself remain whole - and you will be rewarded in a very beneficial manner. You are well aware of the ideological benefits of keeping me informed and healthy - now I am also offering you real wealth as a bonus."

Bagheera studied Corey Shaw as he spoke. Scrutinizing every nuance and every raise of the eyebrow, every squinted eye and flaring of nostrils. Every second was another step into a trap, or further down a path of betrayal, or a still very murky path towards fulfilling his duty.
“Why would you pay money to make friends who should be your allies when your goal is to profit here, Sahib Shaw? When you say ‘ideological benefits’, Mr. Shaw. What do you mean by that?”

Corey knew that each answer he provided from this point was absolutely crucial, and even one mistake could change the outcome of this meeting, and most probably the fate of his very life. Reading between the lines, Corey knew that the Major was at a crossroad, he was definitely interested in taking up this offer, yet he had not yet made up his mind about whether he was willing to go down this dangerous rabbit hole. He had his prey on the hook, he had to line him in without snapping the line. He responded, ensuring his tone remained neutral and his voice in a state of near whisper,
"Major, let us allow ourselves to be outrightly honest with one another. In a perfect world, I would indeed not need to buy friends when their friendship is supposed to come freely, but we do not live in a perfect world. I am a realist, Major, I know how the world works. I know that I am not a welcome sight within this palace, and that those who call themselves my allies are merely biding their time whilst plotting to hang me by my neck. Now as you have pointed out, I am here to make a profit - but I need to be alive and successful in my mission in order to enjoy those profits yes? As for ideological benefits Major - I have explained to you before that both our goals remain aligned. I am invested in keeping the status quo the same. I would like to see the holy Rajah alive and atop his throne. I would like to see this Kingdom remain communist-free. And let's be honest with one another, Major, the mere fact that I am willing to cut into our profits by ensuring that my objectives are achieved, should be proof enough of my conviction."

Bagheera shrugged,
“Your goal is to do your job well and get paid what you demand for it. I understand that. It’s an honest motivation and I respect that, but I don’t think it equates to the same way I feel about my job, Mr. Shaw. You see, it is instilled in us from the very start, long before we join the Shahi Rhakavali, that the Rajah is appointed to lead by divine right. Loyalty is everything. Another layer is added on when one joins the Royal Army or Gendarmerie, which is where the best recruits are taken from for the Royal Guard. Then of course, that is put to a whole other level as a Guardsmen and officer in the SR. That is our life and our reason for existence. I won’t go into it further, but you get the idea. If I were to take payment from you, my life would be forfeit. Any discovery of that would mean a target on my back...and front. How could you protect me?”

Corey nodded once more, sighing on the inside. He felt that he was perhaps making headway, but the Major remained very stubborn. Understandably so yes, but it was still frustrating. Corey needed to push forward, without going too far.
"I am not debating the fact that our levels of commitment are the same, Major, but I am trying to make you understand that our goals align - and I can promise you that Myrmidon is your greatest chance in keeping the Rajah whole. And let me be clear, I am not asking you to betray your people here Major, I'm asking you to help me do my job more effectively. And that is your job yes? To keep the Boss alive? I'm not asking you to take up arms against your people, I'm only asking you to relay information which I can use to keep myself - and the Rajah alive. As for how I can protect you, the answer is simple - secrecy. Our arrangement will remain hidden, even to my own people. An offshore account will be set up utilizing a false identity, making it impossible to follow the money to you. Lastly, in the most impossible circumstance that you are discovered, I can have you and your entire family out of the country within minutes, where you will be given a new, safe and wealthy start, far from danger."

The Major pointed his finger,
“You know something. I don’t know how or what, but...You...you know something. You all wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” He paced a couple steps, then pulled up short, realizing that one more step past the statue would put him in view of a camera. He turned round once again, smoothing the front of his uniform tunic with both hands.
“Know this, Mr. Shaw. You are right that I would not betray my Kingdom, my country, the Rajah I’m pledged to serve, or my comrades in arms. If I were to work with you, it would be to save the institutions and leaders of the Kingdom, not because I would betray them. I will confirm that I heard General Halaganda say that the Rajah is not so much our divine ruler to be protected, but an obstacle to ruling the Kingdom. It was dangerous, seditious talk. He is likely to dethrone him and soon. I can’t tell you an exact time or plan. Again, I do not tell you this to take your money…but, I will take it all the same as it will help to protect myself and my family when this all falls apart. Which it looks to do...I just can’t be optimistic right now. You are a few dozen men. The Royal Guard is hundreds. I don’t know how many will follow the General, but enough to make a coup work, that is for sure. I am not even sure that he won’t have inside help from the JRA or the gendarmerie. I look at your Myrmidon right now and I think of the little boy plugging a dam with his finger....”

Corey Shaw's tanned skin, compliments of the tropical sun back home since he barely got outside here, turned into a slight pale ash white as the Major revealed the truth about the General's plans. It was not a total surprise, as Myrmidon were contracted from the start due to fears of a possible coup - but as the fears were now turning into reality, meant that the odds of survival now dropped significantly.

Corey reflected on what the Major said about Myrmidon being hopelessly outnumbered. A soft smile formed on his worried lips as he recalled the very last operation he conducted as part of the Task Force 79 - the Special Forces unit of the Port Ember Security Forces. They had been deployed within Crysuko to support the government forces during a bloody civil war against communist forces, not unlike the current situation the Kingdom of Jaragupta found itself facing. During this conflict, the communist forces managed to gain the upper hand and smashed their way through the country, eventually leaving only the capital in government hands.

With the commies advancing upon the city in force, Shaw led his ten man team in beefing up the security at the last friendly airport in conjunction with local ‘friendly’ forces. When the enemy stormed the city in full force, the defensive lines snapped all around the city, causing the forces at the airport to flee, leaving the Port Emberians to fend for themselves. It did not take long for the enemy to surround the airport and launch a barrage of offensives against their position.

Yet, the ten man squad held up against all possible odds. For three days, the small team repulsed any attempt to capture the airport, no matter the amount of manpower and equipment thrown at them. During the dawn of the third day, the heathens had had enough of the stubborn surrounded guardians, and offered the team free and safe passage to vacate the airport back to their own lines. Corey laughed this off, of course, since he did not receive any orders to abandon the airport. After driving off yet another assault, the Port Emberian field commander was choppered in personally to withdraw his team. After action estimates for this specific battle were approximately 2000 dead communists and 3 Port Emberians killed in action. A bloody, but ultimately triumphant day.

"Good. You did good by coming to me with this Major. Unfortunately, that's not enough to go by. You need to delve deeper. You need to get close to the General. I need to know when this is going down and how. I need to know how many commanders are with the General, how many will abstain, and how many will oppose him. I need to know what role the other arms of services will play. I understand you lack this now, but we need to get our hands on that information if we hope to keep the boss whole. And I need them yesterday. Also, have you decided what you and your men will personally do during this attempt? The more info you can pass on to me, correlates directly towards the chance we have to keep the Rajah whole."
With the still present smile Corey continued replying, "Don't worry about us doing our jobs, Major. Just get me the Intel I need."

Major Vamataryinja paused, puzzled for a moment on how to react. He’d watched Corey Shaw go through the emotions of mild shock, to mysterious amusement, to determination all in a very short span of time. Some private movie was playing in this man’s head that Bagheera would never know.
“I told you...I don’t know who else is with him outside the Royal Guard, but I have some ideas. As for the top officers within the Shahi Rhakavali, it would be safe to assume most of them are behind the General. I might be able to suss out a couple, but I don’t know if we have the time before this boils over. I can’t overplay my hand, for I will lose my head. I can’t get any closer to the General than I have. I’m already on his radar for being late and not being one of his bootlicker lackeys, but I also don’t have direct access to him because that’s not how our structure works. I’m not one of his junior staff officers or aids. My orders from the General go through two Colonels, first. As far as I know, I stand alone…” He glanced around again in his paranoia. He could feel the clock ticking.
“...Same goes with the men under my own command. I couldn’t tell you where their sympathies lie, but most of them are not as complex in their hierarchical understanding. They are likely to believe that if the General feels it is best that they break their oath to the Rajah for some ‘greater good’, then I think they would do so.
You can make demands all you want, but I ultimately can’t risk my family’s lives for you, especially if the better option is to just ride this chaos out and escape when we can. Rushing to meet your timeline means exposure and death to us. That’s how I feel right now. Next time we meet, I want this generous payment you are promising. Maybe that will change some of my sentiments on being your tool.”

Shaw was not too happy with the feedback he was being fed. He did understand the perilous situation the Major found himself in, as he had to rightfully fear for both his own life, and that of his family. Regrettably however, now was not the time to worry about the life of one man and his family when so much more was at stake.

Corey nodded once more before responding in a hushed tone,
"I understand the gravity of the situation you find yourself within Major, but that's simply just not good enough. You are telling me that a coup is incoming - I know that. Why the hell do you think my team was deployed here!?" Corey had to settle down and force himself to place restrictions on his emotion in order to keep his voice down. "And the mere fact that you have considered the option of riding this thing out, forces me to question your conviction to your cause…"

Corey Shaw paused as he took in a deep breath. He knew he was pushing too hard, and that could be just as dangerous as not pushing at all. He had to regroup. "Major, let me remind you that you are not doing this for me. You are doing this for yourself. Your honor. Your duty. Your family. Your country. The danger of remaining in the dark carries a lot more weight than you can possibly imagine. I plead that you at least put out some feelers for the Intel we need. Do it safely and discreetly, and your life won't be endangered. I will pay you half of your stipend on our next meeting, and more will follow once you give me something I can actually use."

A confluence of the borrowed time that Bagheera was on to report back to the East Wing Operations Center, and the audacity of this foreign mercenary to remind him of his obligations and convictions slammed all down on the Major at once. He was sorely beginning to feel that he had wasted his time. He became even more rigid than before and his nostrils flared.
“I am not certain that you understand me at all, Mr. Shaw. I will bring you what I can. Tomorrow night, bring the money. Same place and time. I will consider the rest of your offer, in the meantime.”

With that, he turned on Shaw without any desire to hear a response. The Jaraguptan Major jumped back into the bush and began to scoot his way back towards the Palace that would best avoid sensors, cameras and patrols.

As Corey forced himself to remain silent instead of allowing his anger to boil outwards, he followed the Major's example and pushed forward with his patrol, again as before, not bothering to dodge any camera or sensor, attributing his walk as part of his routine nightly patrol. However, this time, he did do something which he never usually did - Using his burner phone, he typed a cryptic message to Colonel Cogant, the head AO Guild Commander, which simply read "Ragnarok's dawn is near."

[Co-RP’d with Jaragupta]

[Shalum]

Shalumite Security International AO
Suraksha, Jaragupta

“OPFOR is returning fire.” One of the four drone operators reported as he swung his bird around. It wasn’t armed with anything other than an expensive camera, but that was all he really needed. The infrared, reflective patches that their operators wore made it easy for him to differentiate one group from the other. “It looks like third squad just took a casualty.”

“Fucking wonderful.” Colonel Meyer muttered as he eyed the screen with disdain. He had been hoping for at least a semi-peaceful resolution. A few prisoners of war to question would be nice with so much in the air, but it seemed as if these enemy loyalists were intent on going down swinging. “Inform Terrier one and two that they are clear to move in and provide support if necessary. I will likely have to get on the phone with Guild command in the next few minutes.”

Down in the street, Lance Corporal Magnus Ramaker was the first to fall. The operator, practically a wall of armor and muscle, had always been a bit slow on his feet. As his comrades scuttled for cover, he fumbled with his automatic shotgun for a half-second too long. A strangled grunt escaped his lips as an incoming round struck him in the chest and sent him spinning into the hard street below. He was alive, but that didn’t mean that it hadn’t hurt like hell either.

“Magnus? Buddy, are you alright?” One of his squadmates called as they hooked their arms under his own limp ones so that they could drag him behind a nearby car. “Medic! Medic!”

“Livvy is hit! She’s bleeding pretty bad!” Another voice called further down the line. “Suppressive fire! Suppressive fire!’

“Dammit! Everyone, you’re clear to engage!” Seger shouted into his radio as he hunkered down on the roof across the street. It didn’t take anything more for the rest of his team to do just that. As the light machine guns began to join the fray, it was next to impossible to hear anything beyond what was coming through his headset. “Shoot to kill!”

“Sergeant Seger, be advised, this is Terrier. We’re moving up to support, hold tight.” A calm voice reported as, in the distance, a pair of heavy diesel engines rumbled forward with life.

“Hostile foot mobile coming out! He’s got something!” There was a touch of genuine confusion over the radio as a soldier spotted Hamar and his lunge mine. Of all the things to do, a suicidal charge was not what anyone had expected. “He’s heading for one of our trucks! Take him out!”

Unfortunately for the young captain, combat was not like in the movies. A charge, even through an urban environment, was not exactly easy - especially when under fire. The trucks were far enough back, behind the line of Shalumite operators, that taking one down wouldn’t be a line drive. As he drew further away from the house, more began to take aim at him. “Watch crossfire!” One voice shouted, only for a nearby operator armed with a shotgun to rack his weapon and pull the trigger.

The next vehicles to arrive were a fair bit beefier than mere armored trucks. The pair of Puma armored personnel carriers were wheeled, heavily armed vehicles. Each of them was equipped with the same heavy gatling guns that the lighter vehicles were, along with interchangeable weapon systems. “Engaging enemy building, all forces standby.” From the safety of his weapons station, Terrier Two’s operator zeroed in on the enemy building. He was careful when taking aim, especially with so many civilians still in the area. His first trigger pull didn’t send more lead downrange, but instead a trio of 40mm grenades aimed right for the front door.

[Terre des Gaules]

Centreville Military Airfield, Grande Goutte
The Gaulic Territory of Dachine

By direct command of the Central Command in Paritte, Gaul, all of Dachine, or Dae Chong, as it was known by the natives, was being mobilized and put under a state of emergency.
While more troops and squadrons were being mobilized from Gaul and Marveille, those already in Dachine were being readied while Dachinois soldiers were being recalled from reserve duty and furlough to report immediately to their stations. The whole of the 7th Territorial Army Corps, also known as the Dachinois Corps, was in the process of mobilization. Some units would be staying on the island, while others would be shipping out for Jaragupta. Some units would be replaced with counterpart units from Gaul, where subsequent domino mobilizations were taking place.

The first active units which included platoons and companies from the 38th and 48th Divisions, which included the 22ème Régiment Fusiliers Dachinois, 28ème Régiment Logistique Dachinois, 2ème Régiment Coloniale (Gaulois), and 3ème Régiment Tirailleurs Dachinois, along with supplies and the first batch of limited vehicles, were loaded up onto air transports for the long flights to Jaragupta.

They would be joined and escorted by aircraft from the 6th Air Wing stationed at Arnoux Base Aérienne in Feng Guo.

Upon landing, these forces would be put under the command of General Dalier, who was commanding the Gaulic sector that ran from just north of Tuzarkha, down to south of Pradhaan and a fair clip west of that slice of coast. It was hoped that they could be a further barrier to ISVC aggression in the Kingdom and help in subduing the rebellion.

---

Groupe de Combat Interarmées Jaragupta (GCIJ) HQ
Tuzarkha, Jaragupta

General Dalier and his command staff had settled into their new digs, not far from the downtown of Tuzarkha, or from the HQ of Tiger Regiment NE, JRA - representing about 2 companies worth from the Jaraguptan Royal Regiment that was a combination of infantry, mech, and armor.
The rest of the Jaraguptan Tiger Regiment was spread between Pradhaan and Gyani and actively fighting the rebels there.

Additionally, Mavala had ordered the gendarme Python Battalion east from their original headquarters of Abilek, giving Krait Bn the responsibility to cover all of the West and central parts of the Kingdom while the other two battalions struggled in their sectors. The fourth battalion established before the recent crisis, Viper Battalion, had been stationed on Gahana and was now non-existent, having been wiped out by the rebel Hamikh uprising, and the subsequent follow on ISVC invasion. The Kingdom was currently rushing to establish two new gendarme battalions - Mamba and Anaconda, with sped up training provided by a mixed cadre of JRA vets, and Guild contractors provided by Blackwood and the USG.

Dalier had sent his XO, Colonel Guillaume Trelaine, to set up a secondary headquarters in Pradhaan. To be fair, it was not an easy task to set up in Pradhaan which was in full upheaval at the moment, unlike Tuzarkha, which the local JRA and gendarme units had managed to keep under control. Even with elements of Tiger Regiment, Python Battalion, and air patrols of JRAF and Guild fighters and rotorcraft, Pradhaan and parts south down to Suraksha, were in full conflagration.

The situation was bound to change, however. Most of Tuzarkha airport had been given over to the Gauls to establish an air base. Civilian flights had been diverted to the cities in the center and northwest of the Kingdom. Airlifts of reinforcements from Dachine, the Gaulic territory due West of the Kingdom, were bringing in Dachinois and Gaulic colonial troops.

The Dachinois, ethnically similar to Southeast Asians, were tough fighters to a man without exception, and had a reputation for brutal efficiency. They were anxious for major action, having last seen it during the Qasifyan troubles a few years ago. The Dachinois, or Dao Chonhee, in their native tongue, had loyally served the Gaulic empires and republics for centuries and were often dubbed the Gaul’s ‘Gurkhas’. They even carried their own traditional combat blade (sword/machete) called the Sembak, which had often been compared to the Kukri in both style and its usage.

The Dachinois troops, as soon as they landed at ‘Tuz’, were organized, loaded onto trucks, and transported down towards Pradhaan, where they would fall under Colonel Trelaine’s command and bolster the local forces there. As all the divisions were eventually landed, a major offensive was planned to clear out the rebels and squash them, driving them into the sea. They would link up with the SSI in Suraksha in order to form a solid front.

Meanwhile, back on Dachine, Gaulic units were being airlifted in to replace the Dachinois native troops, in order to defend the territory. This was acting on orders directly issued from Central military command in Paritte.

Gaulic intervention in Jaragupta had been received lukewarm at best back home. The entanglement with the ISVN fleet had caused a lot of grumbling and concern on both sides of the political fence. However, when Gahana had been invaded and taken over, declaring themselves a socialist republic, it had a polarizing effect in the Gaulic Republic, especially among the conservative politicians and their base.
Opinion changed almost overnight and the Defense Ministry mobilized reserve regiments, air units and additional support ships to send on to Dachine and Jaragupta.

Back in Jaragupta, the Southern Carrier Group, with Vice Admiral Ambroise Daribault in charge on board the flagship carrier, BNRG Conquérant, lay off the coast, nearest to the port of Natarki, but still with Gahana in sight off the northeast coast of the Kingdom. The troop ships had all since disgorged their cargo, dispersing Gaulic troops to climb aboard trains and truck convoys heading to the south and east. Logistical troops remained behind to unload additional supplies and equipment.

The troop ships and any less protected ships were moved to the NW, away from Gahana and the ISVN fleet. They would be needed in time when they rolled back the enemy fleet and retook Gahana from the reds. For now, the goal was to get the mainland under control and put paid to the remnants of the HDLF and any other anti-government militias. Then, with the Guild and Jaraguptan Royal Army, they would storm ashore and destroy the nest of communists and anarchists before they got more entrenched. Gaul was ready to make a stand here and now for democracy and freedom.

[USG Security Corporation]

Shravapran Sadak
Mehatar, Southern Jaragupta

Immediately the rear guard raced for cover as they began taking fire from behind. There were plenty of Guild operators of the group who were covering the back, but now that doubled as others took notice that they were in danger of being flanked from behind.

The first volleys took two of Merchant team down who were facing towards the roadblock. One Cedecran NCO absorbed a blast into his plate carrier and was bowled over, but was able to catch his breath behind a concrete planter on the sidewalk. The other, a San Rositan corporal by the name of Jaime Padilla, took a round through the jaw that splintered and ricocheted down through his neck, tearing his airway and arteries.

He fell to the deck, squirming and struggling as blood drenched his front.
Two of his squad mates grabbed him to drag him to cover as they fired one handed back at the HDLF special strike squad, but Jaime was already slipping away by the time they had him slumped up into a doorway. He repeated “Cristo! Cristo! Cristo!” ever more quietly until he faded off and was gone.

The Guild warriors split up to either side of the street to return fire and push back on the HDLF rebels. It was a mix of Varangian Guard, USG Merchant and Banshee Team, and some of Raven Team. They worked together as if they had always been one solid group.

Olsen was behind a stairwell wall, popping out to hit their attackers with some short bursts from a few different spots. He advanced to a doorway closer up as chips of brick rained down on him.
They were giving as good as they got, but these HDLF fighters weren’t as sloppy and easy to get on the run as some past groups they had fought these past few months. All this seemed planned, as if they had been expecting the Guild contractors to drop in. He changed magazines as he flattened himself on one side of the doorway.

Suddenly, he saw a glint as something came down the stairs. He didn’t want to shoot a civilian accidentally, so his reaction time was slower than he would have liked. Glass burst out from the door as a Kalashnikov began to chase the air right where he’d been. Olsen dove and rolled back towards the stairs position he’d first had. He snapped up to a kneel, then flattened on the wall.

He cut a burst at a rebel that hung out a window trying to spray rounds down on Gene Rotha below. Then he angled his NEG 26 around the door frame and sprayed inside. He heard a groan, but he wasn’t going to be tricked with that. He took a grenade out of his web pouch and popped the pin. Then he flipped it around the door frame as well. He had to hope that no innocents had joined the rebel out in the inner stairwell in the few seconds it had taken him to do that. The cheap stone transmitted the vibration through to his back. He ducked in to find his quarry sprawled out in the stairwell. Another rebel was cascading down the stairs with his shotgun sliding next to him, caught in the blast that had funelled upward.
The Hawkwickan Captain had had enough of feeling like he was on the wrong side of a carnival shooting gallery.
He shouted up, hoping they spoke English enough to get the hint.
“Stay the fuck inside! Sit this fight out and you might stay alive! No more shoot!”
A moment’s listen and he could not hear any major shuffling, at least nothing over the din of the outside racket.

He ducked into the alcove under the first flight and dug into a web pouch for a water bottle. His mouth was bone dry and he needed to hit the comms. Satisfied his tongue wouldn’t stick when talking, he popped the capped bottle back in the pouch and hit the talk button. He pushed on the general ops channel even though the other team leaders were probably already on top of their teams.
“Rearguard, this is Banshee One. Watch for the doorways and windows. They’re headin’ down from the floors! Tighten up with Hammer and the trucks. Don’t let ‘em slip through the middle. Banshee One out.”

Break time over, he checked the action on his NEG 26. He was already sighting in on a rebel visible in an upper floor window, across the street through a broken pain in the window next to the flimsy tenement door. He caressed the trigger and saw the rebel fly back, then with big strides he was kicking out the building door and swinging his AR towards the next customer while diving into a crouch away from the door frame that took the brunt of heavy MG rounds meant for him.

---

Meanwhile, at the front of the column, the vehicles needed to get through. While there were some minor divots in the road, it wasn’t terrible enough that they couldn’t get around or even drive through them carefully.

First, the remnants of the blocking force had to be eliminated. While a good lot of them had been torn up on the first run by Viper, there were so many that they had regrouped and were doing their best to replace the blasted away obstacles with a curtain of lead.

Joshua Croft had likely been in tighter spots before, but he couldn't recall one currently. They'd stopped a fair distance from the roadblock once they'd seen it, radioing back to the main convoy to keep their distance.

The mounted MG was chugging out a steady stream of heavy slugs, Croft & his long-time spotter taking well-aimed shots with their SR-25's. There wasn't a great deal of cover, but they'd made due with junked cars & the occasional concrete planter.

Semi-effective enemy fire snapped & whipped overhead. Still more enemy rounds pinged off of their sparse cover. This wasn't a good place to be.

"If we had another air support run this would be a lot easier…"

Mosely nearly stopped firing, but hid his surprise well enough, sending another well-aimed 7.62 down-range & sending another insurgent toppling out of sight in a limp heap.

"Dude, we can call them in again! Call Big Dee up & let him know we're clear!"

Without another word, Croft ducked back down behind the bullet-riddled vehicle & shrugged his comms antenna back out again.

"Hammer Actual, this is Scout. Heavy contact with enemy forces at that road-block. Will need air to clear it again or the trucks won't be able to break through. Scout is clear of the kill-zone."

The response crackled back across also immediately.

"Scout, Hammer Actual. Air is en-route."

Davis toggled back over from their team internal channel to the joint Guild channel ear-marked for CAS operations…

"Viper, Hammer Actual. Scout unit is clear of the road block, you're cleared hot. Happy murdering."

Switching back to his internal comms, Davis got the trucks into a heavy defensive posture & prepared to move out once Viper made their second gun-run.

“It’d be a good time to lase any other roadblocks between us and the hotel,” Eelin piped in over the same comm frequency. “Let’s just vaporize them, so we can Formula One it all the way home.”

“BOOM!” Dagmar aggressively screamed, over and over, barely audible over the din of battle. Her W-2 recoiled violently as she sent torrents of lead down range. The muscle fiber of her enormous bicep and shoulder rippled as it absorbed the shock.

In her other hand, she rapidly took potshots at exposed heads with her D50. The accuracy was less-than-ideal, but under the circumstances and all other things considered, her effort was highly effective.

---

Over Mehatar Bay

Over the docks, Clipper 1 and 2 were still working over the back side of the HDLF fighters rushing down the alleys with more heavy artillery. They had so far managed to avoid the occasional RPG from nearby rooftops, and small arms fire was glancing off the armor of the well built VTOL gunships. Every chance they had, the two AT-77 Fox gunships would take turns clearing off the enemy rooftop teams, while the other continued to put pressure on those in the streets and manning the barricades. They were circling in constant motion so as not to be a stationary target.

That luck ran out for Clipper One. Another RPG was fired off, this time very near. They knew what they had to do and there was no time to waste speech on it. Lieutenant Danny Molina veered the aircraft sharply as his co-pilot and weapons officer, FO Sem Grimwall, let up on the guns in order to punch the flares out. The button immediately lit up red, indicating the flare reserve was now empty, after so many near misses over the past half hour.
“Oh fuck, Danny. We’re out of flares!”

Two more heavy AT RPGs were racing to meet them, but given a little more distance, they might be able to dodge them. Lt. Molina veered the craft low and broke right, but he could tell it was too late.
“Brace for impact!” Molina yelled out over Clipper One’s closed comm. He quickly switched over to the ops command channel. Grimwall looked back at him with wild, round eyes.

The hit rocked them and spun the VTOL gunship just in time to catch another hit just shy of the cockpit on the right side. The third RPG arced just over to splash into the bay. Shrapnel and cockpit acrylic shards funnelled up and into Clipper One’s cockpit. While Molina was peppered and felt something slice above his elbow, Grimwall was absolutely devastated. His head slumped towards Molina, as the Birtonian born pilot struggled to keep control over the USG gunship.

The controls were sluggish and some hydraulic lines must have been hit as Danny Molina watched the road between the docks and the tenements rush up and grow larger.
“Pulpit, we’re g-...” was all he managed to get out before the AT-77 hit hard on the pavement, bouncing once then rolling on its side and crushing one wing and prop against the side of a yellow apartment building.

CWO Alexei Zhukov was the third crewman/gunner on Clipper One. As he heard the warning and felt the impacts, he knew his only option left was to let go of the .50 MG and cling on for dear life and hope they made a soft landing. He had on a sling to keep him anchored, but he also grabbed for a safety loop for extra support as the ground came zooming up.
Then, Zhukov couldn’t quite track the next few seconds in his mind other than to know that the tether of the sling ripped free with the force of the crash, and his tac glove still holding the loop remained in it as he was rocketed out of the side utility door. He was launched meters from Clipper One, luckily not head first. Lexi felt several ribs crack, even with the padded sling still clad around him, and his right knee and ankle were shattered with the blow. The fiery pain was enough to send more adrenaline through him and keep him functioning, but waves also threatened to shut him right back down. It was the body’s pain response trying to take over to shut down his senses from the fire on his side and leg. He crawled back towards the buckled Fox, hoping to pull his comrades out of the cockpit.

Molina was immediately knocked unconscious when they hit, while Grimwall had already slipped to that state well before they pancaked. The right side of the VTOL cockpit buckled around and crushed Sem Grimwall, finishing off the mortally wounded pilot.

---

FO Rolf Lutz looked on from his seat in Clipper Two, momentarily shook from his constant steering to dodge enemy ordnance. WO Christoph Xoloupoulos, Lutz’ co-pilot, continued to work the gun triggers, barely feeling his numbed thumbs at this point.
“Sir...Rolfie! We need to move!”

“Did’joo fuckin’ see that, Xolo?”

“I don’t wanna look.”

“Keep workin’ them over.” Lutz switched over to the Ops Command Channel as he also dipped the Fox and shifted towards another team forming on a roof a couple buildings over. “Pulpit, Banshee-One, Viper Actual, be advised that Clipper One is down. I repeat, this is Clipper Two. Bird down. Clipper One is down...hard.”

“Clipper Two, this is Pulpit. Any eyes on casualties?”

“Neg...Wait. Yes. Lexi got launched out! Zhukov!” They would be wincing back at Mavala Ops that he mentioned a contractor’s real last name over the air. It had to be Lexi as the cockpit glass looked to still be mostly intact, plus he was still swaddled in the sling that door gunners wore to keep them inside the aircraft, which...didn’t work here.

There were more important facts to cover.
“They hit the drink?”

“Pulpit. Solid ground. They hit hard just in from the docks. 3rd crewman is crawling back to the wreck. Taking heavy heat, but we will remain on station to cover.”

“Do not let the commies get to that bird and those men, Clipper Two.”

“Roger that. We are cookin’ the bogies now.”

“Lase ze target, s’il vous plait,” a voice cut in, almost disconcertingly calm. “Please…. Jus lase ze target. I take care of ze rest, oui?”

Pierre lounged lazily on the bridge of his ship, feet precariously perched above the conn. On the fore, out the window and below his gaze, the deck crew hastily made their mortars ready again for another barrage. They had pulled several crates of ammunition onto the deck, and were allaying rounds in quick order to allow for rapid-fire.

The lack of opposing air cover meant there was little to no risk of their ammunition being exposed, which made the task of preparing and loading the cannons all the easier for them. The cool tropical draft helped as well.

“Please…. Mark ze targets. I cut a path, oui?”

“Uh...Roger that...Whiskey?...” Lutz honestly didn’t know which ship captain he was talking to and which call sign they went by. He knew there were 2 destroyers and one mine sweeper in the small Varangian Guard naval task force. The latter ship wouldn’t do anything for them in the current situation.
“Clipper Two using our laser targeting right…” He toggled it and dialed in the largest group heading towards the downed VTOL. “...NOW!”

---

High above the roadblock, Warrant Officer Simone Ross grit her teeth as she wheeled the ungainly form of Viper One around. She was a fair bit lighter now, with all of their troops and supplies on the ground below, but that only meant so much in her current beast of burden. Although she was nearly unconcerned as ground fire tinked off the aircraft’s armored plates, the incoming rockets added an extra layer of difficulty.

“Be advised, it looks like the boys on the ground could use some extra support. We’ve got a lot of hostile footmobiles down there. Mister Davis says we’re clear to go weapons free.” The pilot actually couldn’t remember the man’s rank at the moment. She had enough going on as it was. “Riley? I’m going to bring us a little slower on the next run, feel free to use the rockets. Maker knows we have more of them back at the base.”

“And a bill to go with it, right?” The lieutenant chuckled tightly behind her after a few second’s delay as his finger eased off the trigger. He had sent a fearsome burst of 30mm rounds down into the regrouping formations below. While he had no idea how much good it had actually done, he was sure to have hit something amongst all the mess. “This outta wake ‘em up. Viper Two, you with us?”

The two Hinds swept in again, angled for an aggressive attack run. As more and more of the block force turned to swarm on the convoy, the pair of gunships unleashed the true abilities of their arsenal. Their chainguns, built to combat lightly armored vehicles, cut down into the entrenched positions below. A moment later? Barrages of unguided rockets began to rain down, sending up dust and debris as the explosions ripped everything they touched. “Again, again! Hit ‘em again!” Riley barked over the radio to the gunner in Viper Two.

“We just lost Clipper One!” The pilot of Viper Two, a younger pilot by the name of Bjorn, reported worriedly as they began to pull up and out of the run. Breaking off, it was only to be assumed that they would do it again. “Be advised, we can move to assist if need be.” He reported over the radio.

On the ground, Haas cursed as she scrambled forward. The operator had gone down, but not to hostile fire. She had tripped on loose gravel as heavy fire cut through the air around her. Of course, that stopped for a moment as the enemy reeled under the sheer force of their helo’s support. “Sir?” She radioed to Davis as she slid into cover next to one of her men. The corporal was bleeding, a tourniquet grit between his teeth and pain in his eyes as he readied to treat himself. “That seemed to do it, but we’re still swarming with hostile foot mobiles. Over!”

RP also contributed by Shalum, Falkasia, and Wandering Argonians

[The Cardwith Islands]

Beaches
Southeastern Gahana

In the hours from the first air drops of troops via rotor craft at the Gahana City Airport, the force had been built up considerably, even despite the hammering from the Gaulic ballistic missile attacks. Cargo lifters from the Cardwiths and Pan-Asiatic States had been able to fly into both the Gahana City and Relu Airports that were now securely in ISVC hands to deposit equipment and more specialized personnel for technical tasks. They had been escorted in by ISVCAF fighters, who fought off Guild and Jaraguptan air defense that tried to intercept them.

Meanwhile, the first landing craft had touched sand on the southeastern coastal beaches of Gahana. ISVC personnel had dashed into the surf, expecting to fight their way in, but for the most part, the landings were uneventful and near peaceful. The HDLF had done a good job of destroying the gendarme garrison battalion and had proceeded to be marshaled into a proper army by Brigadier Evans of the Gahana CAIF team.

The landing had not been completely unopposed, however. Although they were effectively out of range of Gahana, enemy missile batteries, stationed northeast of Tuzarkha on the main island, had tried anyway to hit the boats and landing craft of the ISVC forces. Most of the missiles had fallen short, a couple had overshot, falling harmlessly into the sea. One had scored a direct hit on a craft holding mostly Yellowsian and Scandavian troops. About a company’s worth of ISVC troops had gone down in the torn open amphibious lander with near total loss of life. The loss was felt strongly by the other ISVC troops as they scrambled ashore.

Additionally, although the gendarme garrison had given up, some Tamar and even Hamikh nationalist anti-Marxist militias had not. They showed up in meager numbers to snipe at the flanks of the ISVC amphibious landing troops. ISVC troops that had driven down from the GC airport to meet them, as well as a couple of five-man strike teams from the Shadow Turma among other advance landing troops behind them, quickly zeroed in on the imperialist/nationalist forces and mopped them up.

Captain Reynaldo Wenopga of A Co/101st Bn/6th Cardwithian People’s Army Regiment had been one of those who had been nearly hit by a sniper bullet from the western flank. He had been in the middle of marshaling his troops on shore as they left their landing craft, and considered tasking a couple squads to take care of it, but realized he wasn’t fast enough.

Other ISVC personnel raced off to take care of the doomed enemy marksmen, some on motorbikes, some on all terrain four wheelers and some rushing on foot to head off the militia marksmen. Captain Wenopga used the ‘marksmen’ term loosely in his mind, as with all the bullets they had managed to send downrange, they had only managed to slightly wound one of his men before being pounced on.

His company rose up from cover, and he motioned forward. They advanced in a staggered formation up the beach and towards the road where waiting trucks would take them north, eventually to where their new camp would be located on the western side of the central Gahanan mountain range.

Several other ISVC units were also being set up along the foothills of the central range. It was a deterrent so that Guild and JRAF ground attack craft couldn’t do a smooth attack run on the units without having to pull up before slamming into the mountains. Also, several AA batteries were being set up around the camps. Not to mention, ISVCAF fighters were doing a good job of setting up a patrol perimeter in the skies over Gahana. If enemy craft penetrated all that, their chances of escaping back out were next to nil.

---

Ayato Martini, commander of the 2^nd Platoon of the Shadow Turma, coordinated with his attached contingent in helping set up the deterrent. It was a balance of using local resources and employing the combined expertise of the two groups to protect the other units, and making sure no one dared get too close to bring their full firepower to bear.

Things were about to get interesting…, Ayato thought. The Anteturmarchess Lewis was supposed to lead this team, but after barely escaping the missile attack at the Gahana City airport, she was seconded to HQ duties to help recuperate.

“There’s a new guy, Kichijiranta,” Ayato began speaking to his foreign counterpart, “He’s really good at artillery pieces. He can lend you a hand at manning some of them.”

---

Gendarmerie Compound
Headquarters of the Army of the People of Gahana
Gahana City, People’s Republic of Gahana

The commander of the Army of the People of Gahana was not, like his JAREXCOM comrades, divided or unsure in the slightest. There was a job to do and he was doing it. His wave of runners had returned, bringing with them the dozens of fighters that had headed out into the city in search of glory and loot. The authority that had been drilled into the old HDLF still hung on and, when they heard who the orders came from, they headed towards the naked shell of the gendarmerie where their new flag proudly waved, dragging with them groups of young demonstrators to join the cause, fresh-faced men and women who had not yet calmed down and could be convinced to join the ARP.

For Brigade General Martin Evans, every man counted deeply. He had taken around two-hundred men into Gahana City and, though fewer had been killed than he feared, they still had many wounded men to deal with, most of whom were being tended to in the buildings around the HQ or were being taken out of the city. With the rest of his original force still away, having taken part in attacks on the airport and the media centre, one can imagine Evans’ relief as his hard core of HDLF fighters returned to the compound. Trailing behind them were streams of overzealous young activists in their hundreds, armed almost exclusively with clubs and rocks, though several, evidently prepared for violence, carried tools in white-knuckled grip.

Evans maintained a staff of twelve, made up of Vionna-Frankenlischians, Cardwithians and Gahanans. At that point he had eight, as Saunders and Yamala were away, Fenton was missing and Captain Reynolds had been killed. Eight would do, anyway. Martin Evans informed them of his plan. The Army of the People of Gahana had two objectives at that moment: to hold its position and to continue to exist. Therefore, the dead and wounded were to be relieved of their arms and any weapons that could be salvaged from the gendarmerie were stockpiled. The few literate members of the HDLF were put to work taking down the names of the new arrivals, weapons and ammunition were handed out based on proficiency. Every effort was made to keep the new recruits within or as close to the compound as possible to avoid desertion. Colonel Daventry, who had once served on the Red Army General Staff, drew up new companies, mixing up the veteran fighters with the new recruits to make best use of the experience of the old HDLF. Major Harkness, who had been an engineer, wandered from building to building, inspecting the mens’ positions, advising the APG soldiers on how to reinforce their firing positions in windows and on roofs. It was he who gave the order to hold fire when, from the direction of the media center, a column of stolen government vehicles and technicals wound down a main road toward the compound and its ring of impromptu outposts.

This column was a godsend. It was Major Saunders and the forty fine fighters that he had taken with him to the media station, minus Captain Russell Reynolds who had been killed leading the assault along with Velamar, one of the Cardwithians. Saunders, despite those losses, was in roaring spirits and embraced Brigadier Evans aggressively. He reported that, following an enemy bombing of the airport, the ISVC forces had moved their headquarters to the media center. Evans thanked him and, in a barrage of orders that came instantly, bade him take command of things at the gendarmerie and find a couple of men to drive him to the HQ. By the time five minutes had passed, Martin Evans was on his way to the headquarters of JAREXCOM in a beat-up Toyota Hilux, toasting the formation of the new republic with a canteen of cold coffee.

RP Contributed by Diarcesia and Vionna-Frankenlisch

[Terre des Gaules]

60ème Battalion Des Opérations Spéciales HQ
Tuzarkha, Jaragupta

The 60th Battalion SO, and those other personnel, both Gaul and allied, assigned to it didn’t conduct business in the GCIJ HQ for a reason. There were spies for the HDLF/ISVC, not to mention other separatist factions, everywhere. Those in the GCIJHQ did their best to work around that and there were some rooms that were secured, at least for a time. Also, sometimes they conducted briefs that didn’t include local personnel, and they did a thorough bug sweep beforehand.

Still, there were other reasons to have a secret, nondescript location for just the 60th SO Bn.
While the support personnel didn’t need to be as concerned, the operators that would go into battle had no desire to be identified as Gaulic warriors, especially with some of the sensitive missions they would be running.

Most of those who met, worked, or launched from the secret, unlisted HQ were trucked in there by regular GCIJHQ drivers, their presence hidden by canvas or aluminum walls in the backs of those trucks. The truck was backed in and they filed out the backend directly into a covered tunnel, out of sight of the drivers. The set up wouldn’t stay discreet forever, but for now, it worked as they built up to their greatest operation yet of the war.

An assortment of men, and a few women, were in the largest main room in the center of the HQ, which was in fact a warehouse on the industrial side of Tuzarkha. It was not the full manpower of the 60th SO Bn, but it was most of A Company, and a good smattering of B Company. The rest of B and C were out conducting ops in the Gaulic sector against HDLF guerrillas.

Those in the front row were in varying states of fatigues and civilian garb that would hold up well under combat conditions, body armor lay next to their seats, ready to slap on, or they were still wearing it. None wore regulation Gaulic uniforms. The majority of them wouldn’t blend in with the locals, but they would blend right in with their Guild allies, and that was intentional.

The back couple rows were an assortment of other tough looking operators in other national fatigues, or civilian garb. Well, not all of them appeared to be so tough. Some of them looked to be scared to their wits end and not even close to the fit shape of a special operator.

No matter their physical or cultural state, all of their eyes were riveted to the front, on Colonel Jobert Feuran, head of the 60th and a legendary figure known for his service in both the desert heat of Qasifya, and the Arctic cold of Glisandia during the Northern Tavlyrian War.
Many of the other commandos were also veterans of those conflicts, as well as other random missions across the world where Gaulic interests needed to be represented.

Colonel Feuran was mid-stride into a brief. Not only was he a legend, he was also physically towering. He was well above average height, especially for a Gaul, at almost 2 meters tall, and had buzz cut silvered hair that stood out against his well weathered and sunned skin. Unlike most of the operators in the room, he wore a uniform of standard Gaulic camo fatigue issue, but without the Colonel tabs or any rank badges that would have made it regulation.

“...You have gotten wet putting down some local rebels around the city and out in the surrounding bush. Congratulations, I’m sure Paritte has a medal for you for that…” He earned some laughs and nods of agreement at that.
“...But now, the big show is to begin. Gahana, formerly a province of Jaragupta, has fallen. The communists saw a weakness and exploited it. Not just a bunch of raggedy rebels, but well trained, seasoned troops from the multi-national force of the International Socialist Volunteer Corps have overrun the small island. They have it locked up tight, and it lies right off the shore of our sector here on the Eastern coast.
No one is going to point fingers. Who dropped the ball? The Kingdom for not thinking to defend it? The Guild for not swooping in to save it? Us for forcing the ISVC’s hand? Does it matter?

Many errors allowed it to fall, eh? Mon Dieu, we all know how these things happen. What is important is not letting them continue to hold it unchallenged. The Reds cannot continue to be able to build up forces. They cannot use that as a giant aircraft carrier, amphibious assault ship, and cruise missile and drone launching pad to attack us here on the main island of the Kingdom...of Jaragupta.”

He stopped to sip at a stainless steel insulated mug, the contents of which, his audience could only guess.
“This is where you merry band of losers come in. It is time for us to start operations upon the island of Gahana. While, yes, that has been happening from afar...continuous air attacks from our patrols, the Guild’s air component, and the Royal Jaraguptan Air Force, as well as missile and drone attacks, it is not enough. Also, these things are only capable on a limited basis when you do not have air superiority. It is arrogant to think you will not incur losses when the other side has squadrons operating from their aircraft carriers, as well as what they were able to fly in from the Cardwiths and elsewhere. They suffered some losses from our attacks, but they keep flying in more planes. More MiGs. More Sukhois, and more of those CF-29s (Cardwithian copies of Falkasian fighters)...and more transports for supplies to bring the war here. They are not going to give up without a very bloody fight.

You are the first teams to go in. It will be risky as all fuck. We don’t know that we can rely on our contacts there (Some had been supplied by BGSE, some by Intexa, and the most hinky were contacts of the Jaraguptan Royal gendarmes.) You’ll be going in at the wee hours before dawn and late into the night. What you won’t be doing is strutting around in broad daylight like a cock on the walk…” He was having fun with a popular Gaulic folk song.
“...We need recon from the start, integration with any local resistance...Not much is left, to be sure...And then, we will commence coordinated sabotage operations. Assassinations of their top officers who survived our aerial and missile attacks. Taking out major air defense sites, key supply depots for the enemy, command and control sites and mobile command vehicles, and any other targets deemed viable by both our command here in Tuzarkha and back in Mavala…”

“Now you may have wondered about some of the fine people back behind you here, who you likely don’t recognize...Some of them are translators specially selected from the JRA…”
Feuran ignored the grumbling from the front ranks about compromised security.
“...and some of them are contractors, from the Guild companies, who have particular experience engaging ISVC forces in a number of other locales, some of them right here in the Wishton. Lastly, we have some guests from the elite Rangers of the Hutanjian Republican Army, as well as some field operators from their Hutanjian Security Agency, who have also done battle with the ISVC, and specifically been locked in bloody struggle with the Cardwithians for years. Lastly, we have some technical experts, both from our own forces, and from the USG’s Intexa support arm, who will be running counter ops to hack in, disrupt, and scramble the enemy’s net... Apparently, the geeks can’t do all those types of fuckery from afar, some have to be launched from closer in.”

Colonel Feuran didn’t bother introducing them individually as there were many he had yet to be acquainted with and also, it wouldn’t do for individual team op security for everyone to specifically know members who might not even be assigned to their teams. It was already enough risk to have them all in the same room where they might inadvertently give away the identities of other teams upon capture. However, the enemy weren’t idiots. They were well aware that the Gauls and allies would be attempting such operations upon them, so if a team was captured, that would be a foregone conclusion. The teams wouldn’t know where each other were operating or what the other specific missions were.

“Unless there’s any questions…” A couple hands raised in the back. The Colonel ignored them. “And there are not any...We will proceed to break off and get our separate team mission briefings. That is all for here, my fine warriors.”

[Jaragupta]

The Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

Bagheera Vamataryinja was just a father and husband until he put on the uniform of a Shahi Rhakavali Major. In the morning, he kicked around the football with his three sons before they had to go to school. Then he walked into the kitchen from outside, kissing his youngest daughter on the forehead while she was hard at work on the family computer wrapping up a school assignment. They would be going off to another day at Gabajaram Academy, and then, hopefully in a few years, to Nurapal Academy, his alma mater. Both schools were high walled, secured and guarded by none other than the Royal Guard, one of the few assignments left for the Shahi Rhakavali outside the Palace. Common Jaraguptan children couldn’t afford such schools, although a handful tested in for scholarships. Most unsecured schools were closed due to the unrest, but not Gabajaram nor Nurapal Academies.

His oldest daughter was making breakfast with her mother. He gave them both kisses too, but his wife got the tenderest of all, then he strolled to the back of the house to get suited up for work.

After a quick breakfast, Major Vamataryinja was off to the city center and the Palace. Unlike the top Colonels in the Royal Guard, the Major had to drive himself to work in his own car. He had a modest Rindersped Ibex SUV, a Neu Engollian import that hadn’t gotten much marketing traction outside of Madurin and Wishtonia.

One should not make the mistake of thinking that everything was cheery and peaceful in the Kingdom, just because Major Vamataryinja was able to keep the real world at bay. While his neighbors, all high ranking gendarmes, other Royal Guardsmen, and government officials in the special, secluded neighborhood of Shantpani, in the north of Mavala, were able to compartmentalize the chaos surrounding them, he was under no such illusions. To the south of downtown and towards the Tamanna River, rioters sympathetic to the HDLF cause burned down everything around them, to their own detriment. Gendarme and JRA troops were still heavily engaged across the Kingdom with HDLF cells, especially south of the Tamanna River, which traditionally marked the Tamar North from the Hamikh South.

Bagheera drove down the Suriodai Freeway into the capital. He was under no false pretenses as to what lay just to the south. The barbarians literally at the gates. He realized, like few in his position did, that now was not the time, while the Kingdom was fighting for its life, to topple the leadership and think that General Halaganda, or whoever he put in place, could do a better job of holding together an already heavily fractured nation. Aside from the fact it went against every vow that a Royal Guardsmen ever took to protect their sovereign, not plot against them.

Oddly enough, the exact same scenario had happened just 7 years ago in Hutanjia, when that Kingdom was fighting their Marxist insurgency in the breakaway Cardwith islands. The Hutanjian King’s own security service, the KHS, had mutinied while the Hutanjians and their allies were up to their necks in battle. It had been disastrous, but the coup was finally defeated with the help of the USG Security Corp and the KHS were hunted down like the cannibalistic animals they were. The very same mercenary group was helping the Jaraguptan Kingdom now. They were one of the most capable mercenary outfits in the world, and their friends in the Guild were equally capable and storied. There were just so many reasons for him to work against the traitorous movement led by General Halaganda, and just one to work with it - to not abandon his brothers who he had served with together for years.

Halaganda could not be allowed to succeed in his plan to take over the government and topple the Rajah.

He got to work that day and was briefed by Colonel Lankamishra as to the current situation. Yet more units of the Royal Guard had been taken off the streets where they were needed to help quell the rioters, to reinforce the Palace, where they most certainly were not needed. He was given a run down of Myrmidon personnel movements throughout the Palace, along with any Guild and Gaulic officers that had been through that day. It was ludicrous that that was their focus on allies that were now considered enemies because they would most certainly interfere with Halaganda’s plan.

He met with several of his junior officers afterwards, to see what their thoughts were on preparedness and where security was working most, and least. He continued to look at his watch as time crept closer to his second meet with Corey Shaw, the Myrmidon Security leader in Mavala. He wasn’t sure if he would even have anything worthy to report to Shaw right up until this morning, but now he didn’t even know where to start.

---

Guild HQ
Mavala, Jaragupta

“Colonel Cogant, sir. I was to remind you that you have your weekly briefing with Mr. Shaw, from Myrmidon.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You don’t have to keep saying ‘from Myrmidon’, unless another mystery Mr. Shaw turns up and we do need to start trying to distinguish them apart.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.”

“Don’t be sorry, just be efficient.”
It was one of his favorite mantras that made his subordinates inwardly, and figuratively, roll their eyes.

Laurent Cogant was feeling the need to take the stairs today instead of the elevators. The gym within the HQ building, although properly set up and decked out by the Intexa, just wasn’t cutting it as far as his being able to keep the pounds off. He would like to jog, but that just wasn’t possible with the situation outside the heavily protected city center of Mavala, or even within it. His protective detail would lose their minds if he attempted it.

He went to the third floor, where the conference rooms were set up. Being located on the 3rd floor kept them off the ground floor and away from an easy terror attack, but low enough to reserve the upper floors for higher security clearance. He went to the usual Conference Room C, which was a smaller affair and more suited to a one on one.

Moments later, Corey Shaw passed through the security checkpoint situated within the lobby on the ground floor. Corey maintained the image of a businessman running errands on a normal, safe and routine day, with his black suit being pressed neatly, the seams sharp as a knife. Furthermore he permanently maintained a faint soft smile, and a hint of a sparkle within his blue eyes. His exterior was the perfect image of a friendly and relaxed white collar professional.

His image lied.

Firstly, he was obviously not a 'white collar professional', but instead a lifelong elite operator, and secondly he was not calm. The revelation of the impending coup gave him sleepless nights as he knew that in order to stop it - it would be a bloody affair like no other. People were going to die - and he had to make sure that he and his people were not part of those statistics.

After being granted access to the building, Corey took the elevator up to the third floor, pacing through the neat corridors until he arrived just outside of a door labeled "Conference Room C". He quickly took a look at his watch which was firmly attached to his right wrist, which confirmed that it was exactly seven minutes before the agreed upon time for the meeting to take place. Corey smiled, as the words "Still got it." escaped from his lips in the form of a mumble.

Colonel Laurent Cogant was already in the Conference Room waiting and browsing on his tablet at intel reports compiled by Merlin, his Intexa staff, and some from the Jaraguptan Royal Guard and gendarmerie. He wore his typical camo fatigues issued to the USG troops. His rank badge on his lapels was three interlocking diamonds, the same icon used by the Neu Engollon Defense Forces, from which the USG borrowed a lot. Due to the fact he only had one eye, the motions of his head as he followed lines in the reports were much more exaggerated than would be expected for someone with normal vision. His hearing, however, was still impeccable.
He looked up as Shaw entered, and pushed his GXT tablet aside.
“Still got what, Mr. Shaw?”
He said as he stood up to shake the Port Emberian security expert’s hand.

Corey maintained his soft smile as he closed the distance between himself and the Colonel, reaching for the extended hand - shaking his hand in a firm manner, whilst locking eyes - or eye in this case - and replied whilst still holding the hand of his Commander,
"Oh, just old habits, Colonel. Top of the morning to you, Sir." He let go of the Colonel's hand, but maintained his faint smile.
The old habits which Corey referred to was simply an unspoken rule amongst Port Emberian military men, which was to always arrive at the place where you are supposed to arrive at - seven minutes before the agreed upon time.

Cogant nodded.
“I see. Have a seat, Mr. Shaw. We’re a little early for our weekly brief on Palace security, but I assume you have a reason for calling an early meeting. Did something come up that I should be aware of?”
Colonel Cogant sat back down, clasping his hands in front of him. He wished he had a bottled water to sip, but there would be time for that later.

Corey took in a seat next to the Colonel, first straightening his suit jacket and tie before replying, as it wrinkled slightly upward in an uncomfortable manner once he took a seat. Once he felt both comfortable and neat, he fixed his gaze once again on the Colonel's eye as he replied, in a slightly softer tone than before,
"Colonel, am I correct in assuming that you have not received my coded message I sent you?".

Cogant looked at Shaw, then smiled.
“Oh. You mean the text. No, I got that. ‘Ragnarok's dawn is near.’ It’s just not entirely clear to me...Rest assured, one of my men sweep this room every hour for bugs.”
He motioned around the small conference room.
“So why don’t you elaborate on that now.”

Corey nodded, content in the fact that their secure telecommunication line was indeed still working, which was quite vital at a time like this. Corey gulped softly before responding,
"Well if the room is clean, then I won't waste any time, Sir. The Coup we had anticipated and feared since our arrival is no longer a hypothetical. It is in fact very, very imminent."

“Hmmm. How do you come by this fact, Mr. Shaw? When is this supposed coup to take place? You must understand my skepticism...Especially over there in the Palace, down the street, they play a lot of games. A lot…a lot of stories come out of there, and the more things are breaking down and getting chaotic in the Kingdom, the more bizarre and paranoid they get over in the Palace. So, to summarize, who and what is your source?”

Corey nodded, reflecting on Cogant's words. He had hoped for a little more support, but expected this trial-by-fire response, nonetheless.
"Colonel, I have managed to place a very reliable source within my pocket. In fact, the source is a senior officer within the Royal Guard. He revealed to me that the good General was bold enough to reveal his plans for the coup in a staff meeting, the same day which I sent you the text. Now there is no set date for the General to go loud, but it is very close. The actual evidence is right in front of us as well. Every waking moment the Royal Guard is reinforcing the palace with more and more units - units whom are supposed to be deployed within the city. The Royal Guard has also intensified their surveillance on me and my men, and any other Guild personnel. Colonel, I trust my source and I trust my gut. This is going loud, and it's going loud very soon."

“Going loud. And you have a senior officer in the Royal Guard in your pocket? Better than Merlin has done, although he has people in there somewhere, and of course, the close advisers to the Rajah. I did hear about the Palace reinforcement from him, plus...That’s just not something you can really hide. But you have no idea on a narrowed down time? Is there any kind of signal that will trigger this?”

Corey nodded as he responded, still ensuring to keep his voice down,"Aye, it was no walk in the park to get him in there, but with what is at stake - absolutely vital. Unfortunately those are questions I am still working on Colonel. My source informed me that the General spoke once of his plans, and that was during the staff conference I informed you about. The only specifics revealed there was that the Rajah needs to go - and very soon - and the officers need to prepare their men post haste - and wait for the order to come." Corey sighed softly, understanding the difficult situation the Guild found themselves within.
"Look Boss, I know I'm not giving you the answers that you need at the moment, and I assure you that I am digging for them. I just needed to give you a heads up, because this is going down, whether we have the intel or not."

Cogent looked pensive.
“No, I understand. Of course you would tell me if you knew. Without risking this source, it would help if you could push them on getting a timetable. Also, proof. Something recorded. We can’t just lock up Halaganda and his complicit officers in the Royal Guard or in the other government positions, just on the hearsay of one source. Also, if we started to make a move or pushed the Rajah to use the gendarme to do so, it would surely spark an immediate bloodbath in the Palace....I think we’re going to have to work on a contingency of taking them by surprise before they get too prepared and powerful to carry this through. I want all our ‘ducks in a row’, as they say, before that. It’s going to be difficult and with all the insanity going on out there and to the south and east, we just don’t have time or resources for this shit right now. Work on this, Corey. Get as many men as you can spare on getting more info and keep pushing your source.”

Corey nodded - what the Colonel said was exactly in line with what he himself had concluded. A rash move on the side of the Guild or the Government would most definitely lead to unimaginable levels of bloodshed and sorrow. This situation had to be solved with the utilization of minds first - and at the business end of a trigger only as a last resolve.

"Aye Colonel", Corey responded, still in a slightly hushed tone, "I concur with what you need, and have been working on it, but aye - I will push harder. I apologize for not being able to give you more at the moment, but I needed to at least pass the warning. Despite what we want the world to believe, fighting off an entire Battalion with twenty lads is not the easiest task in the world. Colonel - I will carry out what you asked of me, and will keep you updated."

“Good. That’s the best we can ask.”
Cogant stood up to lead Shaw to the door.
“We’ll be in touch, Mr. Shaw. Constant touch.”

The Colonel stood there as Shaw left, thinking rapidly to himself. He needed to get in touch with Merlin now ASAP.

---

The more he tried to look into all the secret clearance rooms that the Royal Guard had all over the Palace, the more Bagheera found himself also coming under scrutiny. He was feeling the pressure to uncover more as the deadline surely kept crawling ever closer to coup initiation.

He had started to look into some files on their systems that he didn’t normally have call to use, utilizing general use computers scattered throughout and using newly created fake logins that Bagheera, as one of the top level officers and digital security officers, was one of the few able to create such generic user profiles for the SR proprietary system. Each time, he didn’t get far before being locked out. Someone was quick to plug the leaks...or they were onto him. He spent more time trying to erase his tracks than digging through the files he’d had momentary access to.

It was mentally exhausting and he was sure that his blood pressure was through the roof right now. His anxiety was becoming more crippling towards his will to action. His heart was in his throat as Colonel Lankamishra approached him later on in the day. He pulled him into one of the secret side rooms. Major Vamataryinja half expected an execution squad to be waiting on the other side of the door.
The Colonel didn’t seem to notice his anxious hesitation. He waited for the door to close then spoke.
“Major, you’re on the system. I need you to help keep an eye out. I think we might have a mole. Someone is poking around in restricted files they have no business accessing.”

“Uh...oh, um, of course, Colonel. Any idea who it may be?”

“No, not yet. They keep making fake profiles. They are keeping just a couple steps ahead, but I do think I’m closing in. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Well, I will keep an eye out, Sir.”

“Good. We don’t need this shit right now. We’re getting nearer to the execution of the plan. General Halaganda needs everything perfect.”

“Of course not. I will be on the lookout.”
Bagheera’s stomach was flipping like a centrifugal machine.

“I know you will. Good man, Major. Keep on it.”
With that, Colonel Lankamishra was out the door and already half way down the hall before Bagheera could start to gather his nerves again. He let out a long sigh. He didn’t think that he would survive all this, no matter what happened to the Kingdom, in the next few weeks. He was mostly sad for his family and what would happen to them.

---

Just a half hour later, Bagheera again spotted the Colonel, but he was only crossing paths. He had the momentary thought again. This is it. He has made all the connections. I am a dead man.
But the Colonel furtively kept down the hallway, unaware that his subordinate officer had seen him. On a whim, Major Vamataryinja made a fateful choice. He began to follow the Colonel, despite all the internal voices screaming for him to stop. He had to meet Shaw in just a little over an hour from now.

The Colonel headed down to a lower level through one of the elevators. Bagheera watched where the elevator stopped - Sublevel D. He then headed for the stairs. He was not the most fit man, but what was a little sweat and wheezing when it came to saving the Kingdom?

He made it down without giving himself a heart attack and slowly cracked the door and looked for signs of anyone around the stairwell. He opened the unfamiliar door, breathing a heavily strained sigh of relief as it didn’t squeal and give away his presence. There was the Colonel, down the hall.

Next he saw a man, an officer, who had very little business to be in the Palace, let alone talking with one of the top Colonels of the Royal Guard. Colonel Lankamishra ushered him into a nearby room. Bagheera moved quickly, almost stumbling as he rushed to just short of the door, then he put the brakes on, decreasing his speed to small steps. This room wasn’t one of the secret soundproofed rooms the Royal Guard maintained around the Palace. Bagheera had a sudden thought. They may just be temporarily retrieving an item to relocate to another room. If he was caught out here, he would be fucked for sure.

He overrode that thought. He was too far in now. He had to follow through on this big risk. He put his ear to the door, and instantly, he was hearing all he could hope to have uncovered. Then he heard a ticking sound. No! Those are footsteps! He moved from the door and hurried the opposite direction, leaving Colonel Lankamishra and General Keshav Gayarvad, Commander of the Jaraguptan Royal Air Force, to continue to conspire.

---

Bagheera made it early to their rendezvous site, a different part of the Palace Gardens. He was smoking again, despite swearing long ago he would never again pick up the filthy habit. He paced and puffed, awaiting the Port Emberian contractor leader.

Unaware of Major Bagheera's adventures and troubles this day, Corey made his way towards the preselected rendezvous site, filled with troubles of his own. Although the impending coup was the cause of much worry, Corey had started to make peace with the finality of it all. He was ready, and his lads were ready. Now it was only to ensure that his main source was ready.

Corey's patrol once again coincided with his normal daily routes which he had established ahead since the meets were decided upon in advance, making his movement immune to suspicion against any possible prying eyes.

Once Corey arrived within the gardens, he closed the gap between himself and the Major, and once he was within distance, he greeted his source.
"Greetings Major. May I borrow a cigarette? It seems I have forgotten mine in the ops room…"
Corey was in fact not a smoker, but he believed that this course of action was the most non-suspicious scenario to any possible snooping eyes and ears within the palace.

The Major jerked, even though most of his conscious mind had been expecting Shaw. His color was off and his face showed an incredible amount of strain on it. Sweat beaded his upper lip, disguised by his mustache.
“Certainly.”
He dug into his pack, trying hard to fight the tremble in his hands. He came out with a cigarette and managed not to fumble it or squish it as he handed it over. He willed his hand not to wobble.
“There you go.”

He brought out his lighter, a beat up old Zippo that he’d inherited from his father, and flicked it to life, holding it under Corey Shaw’s Jaraguptan smoke.

Corey bent forward slightly in order to reach the flame with the cigarette, pulling on it deeply once the flames were reached, igniting it instantly. It tasted like shit, to put it mildly. The only way one could accurately describe its taste, was by calling it 'illegally manufactured in a derelict basement from stolen rotten tobacco, and solđ in a whorehouse'.

Despite not being a smoker and the added wretched taste of the cancer stick in question, Corey managed to not cough his lungs out and look like an amateur. He could thank his Port Emberian upbringing for that, as his native culture places much emphasis on the enjoyment of quality cigars, whether or not you are a smoker.

Corey took in a deep drag of filth as he glanced at the Major, seeing a man very much stressed, and very close to the breaking point. This placed Corey in a difficult situation, as he knew he could not push his source too hard, as he might pull out of their agreement in an instant due to those pesky self preservation instincts, yet he needed to push him for the Intel he desperately needed. Corey cocked one eyebrow as he took in the sorry state of the man in front of him, continuing the conversation, hushed enough to avoid giving any possible nosy ears some juicy details. "Major.. Apologies for my bluntness.. But you look like shit."

Major Vamataryinja stopped his pacing and directed Shaw an annoyed look.
“Really, Mr. Shaw? If you knew what I was going through, I think you would understand. I feel very...pressured...right now. I can feel my life slipping before me.”

Corey's lips formed a soft smile as he nodded slightly in response, clearly noting the annoyed and perhaps desperate aura the Major transmitted. After taking in yet another deep drag of filth, he responded,
"I meant no disrespect. I was making an observation. An observation any fool with eyes can make. Including those folk who will consider you their enemy if they catch a whiff of suspicion. So, what I am trying to say here, is that you need to calm the hell down - for your own safety. This is not my first bar brawl Major - and I would prefer it if you remained alive."

“That is very easy for you to say from where you sit. You have much less to lose. When my country goes to hell, you can climb on a plane or boat and be gone. You won’t see your family diced to pieces in front of you...Your friends and comrades all slaughtered. Either way, our Kingdom is fucked. Fascists from within want to bring it down, and the Hamikh communists all around are working with foreign invaders to burn it all down. We are doomed. This is just another contract for you. You get paid whether we live or die. So...I would thank you kindly to not tell me to calm the hell down!
Bagheera’s voice had begun to rise as he got to the end of his rant.

Corey cocked an eyebrow as he stared at the Major, being instantly agitated and not amused in the slightest. He knew that he needed to get control of the situation. Corey responded, ensuring his voice remained low and calm,
"Firstly, keep your damn voice down, unless you want your worst fears to come true right here and now. Secondly, I'm not being condescending here, I am offering you advice, which will keep you and me both alive. You seriously need to stop viewing me with such disgust, Major. As far as I see it, I'm currently the only one left whom you can consider a friend. And as much as I love being insulted by you every time we meet, time is against us, so let's skip the insults and hatred for now, to the part where you tell me what juicy intel you managed to get for me."

The Jaraguptan Major held a trembling finger, pointing it at Corey Shaw. His lips slightly quivered, but nothing emitted from his mouth...Right away, anyway.
“We...we will shelf that for another time. I need to know how you will guarantee my safety and that of my family.”
It was definitely toned down from the response he wanted to give. This white man just didn’t get it, and maybe he never would. Like Bagheera had said, his circumstances would never allow him to experience or feel the same way. He sighed,
“I still don’t know the exact launch date. They are keeping a tight lid on that. What I do know...as of today, is that one of the coup plotters is none other than the Commander of the Air Force, General Gayarvad. Which means that any counter attack against the Royal Guard would likely face air attack. They could hold up any reinforcements to the Palace.”
He took another big puff.
“I don’t know for sure, and I’m just hypothesizing...But I would say that a clear sign that we are at H Hour is when there are no more Royal Air Force assets left attacking Gahana or supporting the push on Mehatar and Suraksha. They would slowly let the Guild and Gauls take that over, and you would see most of the Royal Air Force here in Mavala and in the center. The JRAF also have decent facility security forces, although I don’t know that they could go toe to toe with forces loyal to the Rajah, especially Guild or Gaulic troops, let alone the JRA. Maybe small blocking moves against any loyal gendarmes? But that’s all conjecture. I think there are more coup allies. Royal Army commanders, but I doubt the Marshal himself...well...I don’t know...”
He waved his cigarette out towards the Palace.
“I’m going to work on finding out more, but it is difficult. I’m running up against a wall when it comes to digital files. I’m pretty certain they exist, but every time I start to poke around in our system I raise suspicion in my superiors. Everything I find, will likely have to be through my own senses. I don’t know who to trust.”
The last sentence was thick with melancholy and hopelessness. He was running out of time.

A soft smile formed on the lips of the Port Emberian. Despite being caught within a deadly game of secret cat and mouse, Corey felt a glimmer of hope. Corey had started to doubt the potential usefulness of his source, but what he was just told was actually something useful. And the mere fact that the Air Force were to form part of the coup was something of a piece of bittersweet information. Although this had meant that the Coup was going to be more dangerous than originally feared, it did mean that there was still time to stop it in its tracks. Corey had feared that the coup was absolutely imminent - that he might be dead by nightfall, but now he was assured that the execution had to wait until the Air Force was ready. Valuable time added.

Corey responded, in a slightly less annoyed tone than before,
"Well Major, I'm impressed. You are doing good work. I understand it's difficult, but I need to remind you that I will need physical evidence of this coup. The Guild will be unable to act without this. And you know what Major? You are a good man. You will make your family and nation proud."

Major Vamataryinja almost sneered, but had gotten control of his face as he divulged his info. He felt like he was getting pats on the head like a puppy dog. He considered cutting his losses and cutting off all contact with Shaw, but the Kingdom was at stake. Also, whether he acted or did nothing, his family was in jeopardy either directly from his colleagues, or indirectly from mobs after a failed coup. They couldn’t exactly hide in their fortified subdivision on the outskirts of the capital and loudly proclaim their innocence. There was also always the ever present possibility that he would be found out as a mole and they would be done in by fellow Royal Guardsmen.
They might take issue with the amount of time he was seen with Shaw, even though he could excuse that away as doing his part to coordinate with the contracted, allied security force.
He was getting more cynical by the day. Paranoia around the Palace was at an all time high. He was not confident that such a logical excuse would pass muster from the wrath of General Halaganda.

Ultimately, Bagheera was not a child with no will of his own. He had to take his responsibility for his part in this, despite his growing distrust of Shaw. He could simply walk away now, consequences be damned, and let happen what may. But the other part of his mind knew he most certainly could not do that and live with it. The consequences were too dire if the coup happened unfettered. He would not be able to forgive himself if he did nothing to attempt to stop what seemed to be an unstoppable train. He put to the back of his mind for now that Shaw had not answered the question of how exactly he would safeguard Bagheera's family.

“Just make sure the money is transferred into this account, Mr. Shaw…” Bagheera dug in his pocket as he looked around for the eighth time for any sign they were being observed. Certain they were still safe, he handed the Port Emberian a scrap of paper that he had written down the account and routing info for a secret Kenegan account he had set up.
“I will keep doing what I can to uncover more. I will do my part. You do yours. Make this endeavor worth my life, Mr. Shaw.”

Corey nodded and offered a soft smile. It was abundantly clear that this man hated him, and he would not be getting through to him. This mattered nothing to him in all honesty, as long as he continued to be a good little information cow which could be milked. Corey took the scrap of paper from the man and shoved it in his trouser pockets, nodding to the Major, leaving the scene without a further word spoken.

co-RP’d with Port Ember and USG Security Corporation

[The Cardwith Islands]

GC Media Center
New ISVC JAREXCOM HQ
Gahana City, People’s Republic of Gahana

The surviving command staff ISVC officers, along with newly arriving comrades, had hurriedly scouted out another location for their command headquarters after the airport strikes had wiped out a lot of their peers.

The Gendarme Station HQ had been a bit too damaged in the early fighting for the new People’s Republic. It was not suitable to run operations with a good part of the infrastructure within it destroyed. However, Brigadier Evans had decided it was salvageable for his purposes and had made it the new urban HQ for the People’s Army of Gahana.

The City Hall, which had also originally served as the operational seat for the Provincial Governor, was relatively undamaged in the fighting, but didn’t quite have the infrastructure they desired, nor a prime location. It was also a bit separated from the surrounding city, which meant if the Gauls or Jaraguptans decided to send in another missile attack, they would have less collateral civilian casualties to worry about should they again guess correctly as to the ISVC Command location.

Besides, the new People’s Republic needed the City Hall/Governor’s Center to run their new government. Some ISVC staff were in there to facilitate this goal, but so were many civilians being employed by the new regime.

The Media Center was the next candidate on the list. It had suffered some considerable damage during the last battle for the city, but with the amount of communications gear that survived, and the capabilities possible, it was still the ideal location, also being in the heart of the downtown area.

An enemy missile attack on the HQ/Center was a lot less likely now that it was heavily guarded by anti-missile batteries on the surrounding rooftops and perimeters surrounding the city to avoid a repeat of the earlier Gaul attack. Were they to try though, and actually get some munitions through, it would also cause catastrophic damage to the residences and merchant shops around it. So...the Media Center was the logical place.

---

Yamala had managed to clean up and change since the hectic first hours and days of the battle for Gahana. She still wore the same fashion: well worn khaki cargo shorts, with an off white, light button down shirt, with a many pocketed khaki vest thrown over, the type worn by combat journalists of old to carry film, notebooks, passports, and other supplies.

She didn’t have bits of rubble and debris falling out of her tight knit hair anymore. She’d also managed to shed the mental debris from the battle for the most part. It was one of the tougher ones that she had been through, and she’d been through a few, including her own nation’s very bloody struggle for independence from the Hutanjians and their New Edomite backers.

She walked up, pushing through the main doors to be greeted by a soldier at the main desk. She waved and started towards the stairs. She wasn’t sure if the elevators were still working.
“Um...Ma’am! Madam Comrade? Just a moment. I need to see your I.D., please?”

Yamala slowed, then halted as some of the other ISVC personnel stiffened, and moved smoothly to block the stairs. A Viet and a Scandavian soldier with ARs at the ready.

She sauntered back to the desk, smiling, but with a hint of a malevolent edge to her voice.
“Excuse me?”

The soldier cleared his throat, suddenly a bit unsure of himself. He was Slavic, with high wide cheeks and with a shorn head that hinted at dark hair. She noted that he was likely a corporal, if she was reading the rank badges correctly. He wore camo fatigues she didn’t recognize, but then spotted the Ressian flag patch on one shoulder. If she had ever been invited to Bratislava, she might have come to that conclusion sooner, but she didn’t rate such a trip. Rosita, her direct leader, had been there many times she was sure.

He tried again.
“You need to show Identification to be in this building, Madam Comrade.”

“Do you know who I am? I am Yamala. I have been in and out of this building many times over the last few days. My team, the CAIF team of Gahana, seized this very building, this city, and this whole damn island.”

“Well, I would need you to prove that, Comrade Yamala.”

“Do you know what a CAIF Team does?”

“I am a loyal ISVC soldier, Madam Comrade. I am well aware of CAIF Teams. I don’t know that you are part of one because you refuse to show me I.D.”

“I can not prove that in the fashion you demand because we were here on a covert mission. We didn’t keep identification on us. That would have been suicide if we were caught with it on us. That’s how that works, Corporal.”

“Well, that is a problem, then, because…”

“You know Brigadier Evans, yes?”

“Yes, comrade, of course!”

“Of course. Do you let him in here?”

“Yes, Comrade Yamala, we do.”

“He was part of my CAIF team that I led. Or did he not tell you that? He could not have I.D. on him, Comrade Corporal.”

“Well, but he does, madam comrade. He is the leader of the People’s Army of Gahana...Our allies. He carries the full rank and identification for being the Commander of their army. They are planning for the defense of the new People’s Republic with us...the ISVC.” He paused, realizing he might have overshared.

“I see. Is there anywhere a fellow fighter in the ISVC can apply for a new I.D.?”

“I don’t believe so. Not yet. You really should have brought one with you, Madam Comrade.”

She brought her hand up to her forehead, close to ripping at her own hair. She wasn’t going to go round and round anymore with this clown.
“Who set up this new protocol, Corporal?”

“Colonel Tervejsson, comrade.”

“Right. The Yellowsian...Fuckin' right…” She looked around the lobby again, then back to the Ressian Corporal. “Would you tell Brigadier Evans and Colonel Tervejsson that I need to speak to them soonest?”

“Speak to…?”

“Yamala. I told you my damn name!”

“Ms. Yamala…?”

“That’s it! Just Yamala.”

“Where would they reach you, Comrade Yamala?”

“The Brigadier knows how to find me. Tell him.”

“Yes, Comrade Yamala, I will do that.”

“Good.”

She strolled back out the door, trying to bring her temper down, keep her outward demeanor cool, and contemplating her next stop for the day.

---

She mused as she found the scooter she had ‘borrowed’ and sped off from the Media Center, weaving in and out of the reconstruction and military traffic.

Martin wouldn’t actually know how to currently track Yamala and she had stayed quite fluid in the few days since the liberation. He might have some ideas of some places she would turn up, but not a firm one. She had been idling, waiting for her next assignment from either Rosita Esongka, or Colonel Fodenka, from the original CAIF command. With their position currently deep behind enemy lines, that could be a considerable wait. In the meantime, she had been building up insurance.

She wasn’t about to take orders from the ISVC commanders who had landed and took over the show. They weren’t even in her CAIF command structure and they likely wouldn’t use her as anything more than a gopher to get tea for their officers, now that Gahana was secure. The regular ground forces and the special operations (CAIF) sides of the ISVC still didn’t see eye to eye.

Martin had taken up with gusto building up the new proxy army of Gahana, and that had been part of the plan all along, but it had left her a bit out in the cold. It had been expected that a good part of the main Island of Jaragupta, in the East and South, would fall soon after Gahana. Due to the ISVC holding tight to consolidate on Gahana and Gaul landing troops in the Eastern sector and keeping up pressure on ISVC forces, it had enabled the Jaraguptans and their Guild mercenaries to focus on the unrest in the Southern cities. What that meant for Yamala was that her reunion with Rosita was, at the very least, indefinitely delayed.

Martin had utilized many of the CAIF team, including his own surviving Vionnan Red Army comrades and some of her Cardwithians, in his new project, leaving her with just a few of her PAST crew and some stalwart HDLF rebels to carry on with her plans. (The Gylians of the team had set about in their subsequent parallel mission to set up the new government, but they wouldn’t have been useful to her anyway, with their lack of any real combat skills.)

She begrudged him that he needed them for the core of this new fledgling army. But it had left her with just the hope that the ISVC would fly in more covert operatives and CAIF personnel to supplement their losses and their needs. That had not happened. Not exactly, anyway. The bulk of any special operations forces flown or landed had been to support conventional operations, not CAIF missions. So...square one.

She had been simultaneously planning for the contingency that the Gauls and Jaraguptans would successfully retake Gahana, so the need to set up a network of resistance was urgent. While also going ahead with preparing her own team insertion mission to the main island, under the potential assumption that she would not hear from CAIF command again. Again, with the dearth of personnel, her people, both ISVC and well trained locals, had needed to be ready to fulfill duties in both potential operations.

She didn’t know where that left her and Martin personally, but it had seemed that relations were effectively over, or at least swept aside, as the next stages of the war went into motion. Their divergent goals had ultimately contributed to the practical breakup.

---

Ekanjeet drove the tight, still rubble-filled streets of the capital of the new People’s Republic. He headed for the new Ops Center for the People’s Army that had once been the Gendarme HQ, the biggest symbol of oppression over Gahana.
He was proud to be one of the founding members of the army. He was now a Sergeant, but it was difficult to imagine being called anything more than his name. They had never used proper ranks in the HDLF, but it was something he could get used to. Anything that meant freedom from Jaraguptan oppression was something he and his comrades could get used to.

He pulled up to the building, which was still in some disrepair, although there were already crews out replacing windows and patching up the bigger holes left from the final battle for the city. Right away, one of the new Gahanan soldiers on station at the entrance approached the Mahingra jeep that had been appropriated from the vanquished gendarmes. Mahingras were very similar to what the Westerners called Jeeps. Now it sported a big, crudely painted red star over the old Jaraguptan markings.

The soldier leaned in
“What is your business, here? I need to see ID.”

Ekanjeet showed his newly minted pass.
“I’m here to pick up Brigadier Evans. He should be expecting me.”

“Wait here, Sergeant. Actually...pull up to the corner. Don’t block the entrance.”

Ekanjeet frowned, knowing that he was being shown disrespect by a lower ranked man.
“Whatever…Corporal. I suggest you watch your tone. And hurry. We don’t have all day.”

“I will do my best, Sergeant.” The soldier rushed into the PA Ops Center, murmuring something over his shoulder to his comrades remaining on guard at the doors of the Ops Center.

Ekanjeet then waited for The Man...The Brigadier. It was always an honor to be in the company of one of the foreigners who had come to liberate their land and entrusted them to mostly liberate themselves. More so, he, like many of his comrades, had grown an affinity for the older man known as the ‘Brigadier’, who didn’t talk down to the Hamikhs of Gahana, despite any lack of experience or lower social station in life.

Martin Evans would never have believed the legendary status he had been assigned. Certainly, an observer unaware of his reputation would have considered him naught more than a wounded old man as he wandered out of the HQ. Dust caked him and dried blood, in abnormal splotches, plastered his face and hands. A canteen of cold coffee was grasped by bony fingers. With his rifle slung over his shoulder, he looked a mess. He looked a hero.

Ekanjeet jumped out of the Mahingra as he saw Evans approach down the steps and a short walk down the block. Other soldiers and ISVC officers, as well as civilians, gave him great deference, bowing and muttering praise as he passed them. In the case of the Gahanan and ISVC military, they gave him crisp salutes.

Ekanjeet saluted, then held open the passenger door.
“Sir, it is an honor once again.”

With the canteen in his right hand, Evans was forced to salute with his left, showing off his missing pinky and the stumps of two other fingers. Despite the state he was in, he maintained the same weak smile which he graced all his men with. “The honour is mine, comrade. I hope you know where we’re going,” he greeted the sergeant.

“Yes, sir, sahib Brigadier. I know where to go. I know the old Media Center well.”

With Evans securely in the Mahingra jeep, they proceeded on to the new ISVC Headquarters.
“Things are looking better everyday, Sahib Brigadier.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Sergeant.” Evans nodded and began the arduous process of shaking all the dust off of his clothes, making sure the chalky particles clouded behind them rather than showering the NCO. Martin raised one eyebrow and asked, “you were one of the first, weren’t you?”

“The first what, Sahib?”

Martin Evans smiled. “Ah, I beg your pardon, Sergeant. One of the first brave comrades to join the HDLF. I try to remember these things.” He said.

Ekanjeet beamed. He glanced back at Martin.
“Yes! You have a good memory, sahib Brigadier. I was one of the first. We were fighting when the ‘peelers’ had the upper hand.” His voice choked up a bit, getting deeper, “I saw many of my comrades fall to them. Those were very dark times, Sahib.”

“I expect it feels good to have finally won this victory. I know it does for me…” Warmly, Evans replied, replacing his hat on his head - free now of dust.

“Yes..yes, sir. It feels good after all this time. We have struggled a long time. It is a new dawn for us, but...just a start...I know that the Tamars will not let this stand. They will try to take Gahana back. Only when they are put out of power all across the Wishton will we truly be free. Will you free our brothers over across the channel, Brigadier Evans? Will your ISVC help us be free from fear of their tyranny? Sahib...our people are not really free until all of us are free, not just on Gahana, but over there, too.”

A solemn nod from Evans. “Quite so, comrade Sergeant. Quite so…” He took a swig from his canteen. “The ISVC will certainly try. And if they fail, I will take you over the channel myself and we free them on our own.” He patted Ekanjeet on the shoulder. “Now then, you’ve been to this place yourself? How are things there? And have you seen comrade Yamala?”

The smile faded from Ekanjeet, replaced by a confused look. Part of his frustration was that a donkey drawn cart blocked their way at this intersection. He waved his hands at the merchant dragging the donkey, shouting at him in Punjabi. Finally, when they were moving again, he responded,
“No, Sahib. I would have thought that...with your special...er, understanding with Comrade Yamala that...well, you would know where she was. I have not seen her since the battle for the city. When she did justice to the traitor over in the alley near the new Army HQ.”

It was Evans’ turn for confusion. His smile, too, faded. How obvious had their relationship been? That wasn’t his main concern though. “What traitor, Sergeant? Justice?”

Sergeant Ekanjeet looked back, still slightly perplexed.
“Well, the traitor Fenton, sahib. When Yamala shot him down. I don’t know that she saw me, but...I was there...down the alley. I saw her execute him. He must have been a traitor, surely? She took him down good, sahib. Righteous fury, sir...The Revolution safer for it.”

Martin’s breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He fought down the urge to curse loudly and his mind filled with all the appropriate swears. “Ah…” He struggled to speak but managed to nod perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Yes,” he managed to force out. He hid his horror with another gulp from his canteen. A sigh. “Righteous fury,” he finally said, his face a mixture between smile and grimace, “quite right, Sergeant.”

The Gahanan Sergeant shrugged, then nodded. They were pulling up to the Media Center when a camo fatigue clad ISVC soldier, possibly Scandavian, with an AR slung over his shoulder waved them to the side, to a gate leading to a car lot. Ekanjeet dutifully pulled in to find an empty spot. He parked.
“I don’t think I will have clearance to follow you, Sahib Brigadier. I will wait for you, Comrade Sahib Evans. Good luck.”

“Thank you, comrade Sergeant.” As Evans turned, he saw a glimpse of a familiar brown face. A woman in dirty khakis with flowing curly hair sat on a scooter, speeding down the street in the direction they had just come from. It could be none other than Yamala. Brigadier Evans cursed his luck, he would have to face the ISVC commanders without having spoken to her. He would have to wait for closure on the matter of Fenton.

---

The new Command center was set up a couple floors below the top floor that held the television and radio studios. They stood around maps and reports of troop movements, both their own and the arriving Gauls and the shifting JRA Regiments.

“Comrades, I think we need to evaluate again the need to put one of us in overall charge of operations.” Lt. Colonel Hilgador Tervejsson said. Tervejsson had gotten an immediate brevet promotion after Colonel Drengursson, his superior, had been killed in the missile attack on the airport. He was now the top ranking Yellowsian PRA officer in the Jaraguptan theater, including the People’s Republic of Gahana.

“Colonel Fodenka is in charge of operations, Colonel.”

“Yes, but he can’t get here, Captain, now can he? There’s a bit of an issue of getting him through the front lines, from the eastern coast through thousands of JRA, mercenary, and Gaul troops to here. So, in the meantime, one of us needs to take charge.”

“I suppose you are nominating yourself, Comrade Colonel Tervejsson?”
Major Sandanezwe, a Mubatan from the Onyx Brigade, represented his MFM company that had been part of the deployment.

“Yes, Major. I don’t see an issue with that. Colonel Drengursson took a pivotal position in the first few hours we were fortifying. I assisted him in that as his XO. I think I could be the officer to pick up the pieces, since I was next in line.”

“Next Yellowsian in line. You’re certainly the whitest one here right now, Colonel. Perhaps that is your mandate?”

“That is not fair, Comrade Major, and also very insubordinate of you. I have a higher ranking here”

Major Jolanka, from the Cardwithian expedition, looked between his comrades. He knew that Lt. Colonel Tervejsson was being put on the spot, but he also could see the Mubatan Major’s viewpoint.
“Technically, Brigadier Evans, our comrade from the Vionnan Red Army, is the highest ranking on the island for ISVC personnel.”

“If we’re looking at ranks, I have overall command over my group; might as well be a generalissimo,” Tyes Flecken of the Shadow Turma chimed in, “and yet I can tell that there are more qualified people than I am to coordinate the efforts of our comrades from various origins.” He had been a turmarch (or captain) in Diarcesia before he left with his second-in-command to form his ragtag militia.

Major Sandanezwe nodded towards the Diarcesian.
“I agree with Comrade Turmach Flecken of the Shadow Turma to a point, but I don’t think we need to be subordinate to one officer to delegate responsibility to all.”

Colonel Tervejsson sighed, keeping focused on the Mubatan, but eyeing the Diarcesian briefly.
“I did not suggest that everyone’s units would be subordinate to me and mine, Major. I am merely suggesting that due to my rank, I can make those calls for marshalling our forces where they need to be most now. It is unfortunate that we were not given a clearer command structure in the case of such an instance as this...Where a lot of the top officers were wiped out in a major enemy strike. Colonel Fodenka, deputy to General Tozimbga, is in charge but we have no communication, and so we must have a temporary commander for this area. Until we hear definitively from HQ in Bratislava as to who they are appointing to overall command in Gahana, I do believe that responsibility should fall to me.”

Sandanezwe remained defiant.
“I’m saying that you aren’t even the highest ranked on this island, let alone the AO. I would like to hear from Brigadier Evans.”

“Martin Evans is a Brigadier in name only. That rank is incongruent with the current ISVC command structure. It’s a holdover...honorary title, no more. He is a scouting and saboteur agent now.”

“Odd...I thought he was put in charge of forming the new army of the People of Gahana. That’s a bit more responsibility than a mere saboteur agent.”

Tervejsson was fighting a heavy fight internally to not get irritated by his comrades in the ISVC Command Staff. His voice was level, but that slight irritated tone and his skepticism might be showing through.
“Since when do Brigadiers lead around companies of guerrillas?”

There came, from the doorway, a sudden coughing. Bedecked in the khakis of a Brigade-General of the Vionnan Red Army, Martin Evans stood in observation, still wiping dried blood from his face with a wet handkerchief. His hat was under one arm and an assault rifle was slung over a shoulder, the bayonet still bloody. It would be, for those professional soldiers, a strange sight to see a man of Evan’s years so battle-stained while they stood in pristine uniforms. He looked at them carefully and wordlessly as they beheld him.

Major Sandanezwe was the only one of the Command staff to notice the man standing off to the side of the room, meters from their table. Then Evans coughed and more looked over. Sandanezwe motioned to him.
“I think he must be here to answer your question, Lieutenant Colonel. Comrades, Brigadier General Martin Evans...in the flesh.”

They all saluted, with Tervejsson following a beat behind. He was annoyed and beyond dumbstruck that he would be challenged so quickly by the man himself, the main topic of the hour. He didn’t feel that they needed to defer to the guerrilla leader, but he knew that was a very unpopular opinion right now.

Brigade-General Evans was uncharacteristically grim but his dour mood did not extend to his tone which was, if not exactly chipper, just as optimistic as ever. “Comrades,” he greeted them, “Please don’t let me interrupt you. You were discussing something about Brigadiers and bands of guerrillas, if I recall correctly…” Evans did not recognise many of those present, and he did not recall having met any of them before. “Do go on, comrade Colonel.” He smiled warmly.

The Yellowsian Colonel sputtered,
“Well...I, did you...you see, Brigadier...your part should...rather, I think that...um...We heard no word of your place in the Command Staff proper. You were tasked with your lot, then we were given command over our newly incoming troops, so...I think my point was that...You were there, and we were here and...yes.”

Evans shook his head in disbelief. “For heaven’s sake, Colonel, please speak sensibly. A little louder too, my ears are still ringing from the assault.” He looked about, genuinely confused by the stammering Yellowsian. “What’s all this about ‘my part’, then? Nothing rude, I hope.”

Major Sandanezwe motioned up to the map table, ignoring a grunt from Tervejsson.
“Brigade-General, please join us. We could use your guidance on the current chain of command…” As Evans sidled up to the table, he continued, “As you know, Colonel Fodenka was put in charge of operations on Jaragupta, however, that was for CAIF teams, not proper conventional forces...Again, however, with no other top ISVC officer in charge of conventional forces here on Gahana and in the greater theater of operations, since the unfortunate demise of Colonel Tervejsson’s predecessor, we must default to him, or rule by council here. He can’t make it here to Gahana. Talking to him is beyond difficult through our secret channels. Or at least getting a timely response. Communications with Bratislava have been spotty to non-existent, we suspect that’s due to jamming by Gaulic efforts and those mercenaries seem to have a high technical ability, plus, it’s just a long damn distance…”

Major Jolanka picked up from the Mubatan Major,
“Or they’re just dragging their feet. Communications are better with Markville, back on North Cardwith…” It was a major joint ISVC forces staging base in the Cardwiths, “...but I think that my superiors are hesitant to wade in on this due to the sensitive nature and the fact that my government has already been accused of being overbearing when it comes to ISC affairs. We have high ranked naval officers offshore, like the Pan-Asiatic officers, Vice Admiral Telutava and Vice Admiral Truong, but they don’t have the authority to step in on ground force matters here. Also, on the topic of coordination and integration with the Pan-Asiatics...It has been...problematic.”

Tervejsson acquiesced on that point.
“I have yet to meet our counterpart Pan-Asiatic ground expeditionary force commander, and I don’t think anyone here has...right?”

Major Sandanezwe agreed,
“It is odd. Hopefully we can amend that soon. So that is our situation as of now, Brigade-General. What is your take on it?”

They all turned to him, awaiting his input.

As always, these posts are a joint effort with plenty of input across the ISVC. Vionna-Frankenlisch, Diarcesia, Mubata, Jaragupta, and Yellow Star Republic contributed to this post. Thanks also to Scandavia, Divine Great Viet, and Aressna, for use of their characters, and a general gratitude to all who are part of the multi-national ISVC force portrayed in this and other posts.

[Terre des Gaules]

Northern Gaul Sector to
Tuzarkha, Jaragupta

General Dalier called a commencement of Operation Table Rase at 0445. Gaulic combat units set out from the top of their sector, where local Jaraguptan forces held the line, and began their sweep down, stretching from the width of territory between the jungle to the coast, they moved, armored vehicles and strengthened foot patrols, clearing every building and possible sanctuary for HDLF fighters and sympathizers. Air support stood by to assist and drones constantly monitored progress. Those who had any contraband or obvious HDLF/ISVC propaganda or supplies were carted off to temporary detention facilities set up in the interior of the Kingdom.

While it was very invasive to the civilian population, by agreement with the Rajah and his government, it was deemed essential to stave off losing the eastern coast to ISVC subversion. With the cooperation of the gendarme, JRA, and Guild auxiliary contractor forces, they put the plan into motion in a very deliberate, but quick manner borne out of experience with similar actions in many of their territories and former colonies, like Qasifya and Dachine.

Speaking of Dachine, the Dachinois troops that had recently arrived were a key part of Operation Table Rase as they kept the flank on the jungle side, determined to flush out any rebels that fled the urban operation for supposed safety under tropical canopy. They were brutally efficient soldiers who had a storied legend of serving loyally under their Gaulic masters for centuries. When it was clear they were facing armed combatants there was little margin for mercy. They pounced.

The ultimate goal was to close to the southern edge of their sector, joining up with the SSI (Shalumite Security International) Guild troops, who held responsibility for the next sector south, who were doing the same coordinated operation, pushing from the southern coast up to the north. Eventually, those rebels who escaped the dragnet would be caught up at the Tamanna Delta region to be smashed by artillery and air strikes.

The first hiccup to progress was just to the Northwest of Tuzarkha, when a major cell of HDLF fighters pushed back as the enemy blanket closed in on their clandestine warehouse headquarters in the industrial suburb of the city. They fanned out for battle, led by Pan-Asiatic and other ISVC advisors. JRAF and Gaulic rotor and VTOL gunships raced in to hit larger formations of rebels. It was to be the first of many major battles in the Gaulic sector.

---

60ème Battalion Des Opérations Spéciales HQ
Tuzarkha, Jaragupta

Magnus Szerbinsky was an anomaly in his home country. While it was quite a well known joke across the region that Glisandians were somewhat obtuse when it came to technical and electronic matters, Magnus bucked that stereotype by becoming obsessed and proficient with technical equipment at a young age. Glisandia was not by any means a well to do nation and computers were hard to come by, even in this modern age. Magnus had never even touched a proper computer until the age of 11, when his school was able to secure a small computer lab through a government grant. That lab consisted of two very beat up, outdated computers. His love had only grown from there.

He had been too young for the Northern Tavlyrian War, but like most in his nation, he didn’t get away unscathed. His father, uncles and cousins had fought in the resistance to the Yellowsian occupation. When they kicked the Yellowsians out, the resistance fighters loyal to the Royal Government rejoined the Army to take on the Holy Domain, the fanatical Christian faction that had risen up during the war.

He had briefly done his conscripted service with the Royal Glisandian Army, where his aptitude with electronics had earned him an engineer post, then moving on to info technology, and finally to cyber security. He had signed on for another term of service when his conscription had ended in order to help in shutting down the Holy Domain’s communications network that was enabling them to terrorize the Duchy.

As they had gotten the HD on the ropes and beaten back many of their more conventional attacks on the Royal armed forces, and the Gauls had sent in more advisors and military hardware, the desperation to keep his nation from being wiped out had lessened. He’d worked with the Gauls some to help create a foundation for the Glisandian government and military to be able to better face any cyber attack, within or without and leave the opposition reeling instead of the Duchy.

He finally felt he’d accomplished all he could and he had grown tired of his home country. He had the young wanderlust, mixed with other feelings. The mood in the nation had taken an ugly turn as Glisandians no longer had to unite to face the Yellowsian menace, or the diminished Holy Domain, began to turn in on each other and political infighting became an everyday pastime. That and the Gauls clearly wanted to establish a large TSO base there and exert huge influence over the Duchy.
As months crept closer to the end of his last term of service, he looked for a way out. He needed something else, somewhere else, but still the same type of work.

Eventually, he’d gotten on the path to the USG, and then Intexa. A private company around for centuries helping the nations of the world correct their paths. Or so the story went. It was a job he’d been destined for, he now felt. It was a bit ironic though, that he’d been assigned to work with the Gauls once again. Life intersected in weird ways.

The Gaulic officer in front of him held out his hand.
“I’m Captain Longes. This is Épée Team…”

“Pleasure. I’m Magnus Szerbinsky. Sword Team?”

“That’s right...Close enough. That’s Sergeant Thanh. He’s going to work with you and make sure you come back with us…”

Thanh looked mighty excited to do that. Szerbinsky could tell he would be taking the NCO away from what he considered a more worthwhile position on the Team.
“Captain, I am a field operative of the Intexa. I have had years of military service. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Sergeant Thanh is not your bodyguard, Szerbinsky. You have a very important part of this mission and he’s going to make sure you get it done and watch your back. Not the same thing. It’s not an insult, Mr. Szerbinsky.”

Thanh nodded. “The Captain has decided. Don’t waste your energy.”

“Alright then.”

“This is Tank.” He slapped the shoulder of a very large, muscular man who had snuck up quite gracefully on them. “Officially known as Corporal Bellard to the rest of the Gaulic Army.”

Tank had a burly black beard, longer hair, high cheeks, and an amused demeanor.

“Ironic nickname, then?”

“Something like that. He’s our driver and a great shooter.”

Three others approached. Longes pointed to each of them as he spoke their names.
“Doc Theriault, our medic.” She was a brown haired woman of average height.

“Cartier, we call him the ‘Watchman’...But it fits. He’s good at long distance shooting and recon.” Cartier had sandy blonde hair and a tan. A tendril of a tattoo of some type was creeping up from underneath his collar to partway up his neck.

“Sergeant Dorian. He’s our demo man. We call him ‘Boom’.” Dorian was of average height with many scars on his face. One of his charges had surely gotten away from him at some point.

“Right. What else could he be with a name like that?”

“Do you have a nickname?”

“Byte.”

Doc asked first.
“Bite? Like biting things?”

“As in terabyte. It’s a computer thing.”

Tank smiled
“Yeah...We will just call you Nerd.”

“Sure, whatever. I guess that works.”

“How about Maggie?”

Magnus ignored him.

Cartier pointed to him.
“You are Glisandian. I can tell.”

Magnus acknowledged him
“Were you there?”

“Many of us were there. It was a big war. We still have some forces there.”

“I worked with some of them.”

“Are we supposed to be impressed?”

“Just stating a fact. I don’t know what impresses you, nor do I care.”

Longes cut in.
“Enough of the tough guy pissing matches. Szerbinsky is from USG. You know he’s top notch. He’s got some computer snooping and pooping to do when we get there, but besides that knowing French, English, and his native Glisja, which is awfully close to their cousin language, Yelskja - lingua of the Yellowsians. We may encounter some as there’s a lot over there…”

“How close are Glisandian and Yellowsian, actually?” From Boom.

“Close enough. As close as Spanish dialects or French dialects are to each other, or Norwegian to Swedish...but I can actually speak true Yellowsian, with a trace of an accent. We were often forced to during the occupation.”

They all nodded. That fit from their experience.

The Captain looked at his watch.
“We’re going to go over plans once more, then insertion will be in about 10 hours. Catch a good power nap if you can.”

Szerbinsky sat after their pre-mission brief, going through his files and prepping his laptop in its battle hardened case, along with his other devices. He would try to get some sleep, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen with how keyed up he was. He had done plenty of cyber operations against the enemy, but never done a commando insertion. He pulled out the waterproof covers and checked them again for holes.

Longes had let them know they would be inserting in by submarine. It was the only way that they could get in close as the ISVC had heavy air patrols out for miles past the island. From the sub, they would take a RIB in the rest of the way to a shore that was pretty certain to be clear of enemy presence. From there, they would need to hike inland and then a considerable distance to get to their first target, one of the ISVC marshalling bases for their likely invasion of the main island of Jaragupta.

RP assistance from USG Security Corporation (and Glisandia) and Jaragupta.

[USG Security Corporation]

The Docks South of Shravapran Sadak
Mehatar, Southern Jaragupta

CWO Zhukov continued to struggle and slither to get back to the crumpled wreck of Clipper One that he had been launched from. Smoke seemed to waft over the whole wreck and he knew that multiple things were on fire, but couldn’t tell if there was a fire near the fuel tank. It didn’t matter as he had to make an attempt to pull his crewmates free and get them into the nearest cover...that wasn’t smoldering.

Lt. Danny Molina and Sem Grimwall were two of the closest friends that Lexi had ever had on this earth. They were a tight trio and in the last couple years of being a VTOL gunship/transport crew, they had done just about everything on R&R, or on contract, that three merc pilots could do without being blood relatives.

Alexi’s shattered legs were completely useless in getting him to the wreck any faster. It was all up to his torso and arm muscles at this point. From the corner of his eye, he could see in the distance, where the docks met firm land and the tenements were in the background, brown men in drab, earthy clothes running towards him. They were carrying rifles, or clubs, or weapons of some sort. In his haze, and through his peripheral vision, he couldn’t really tell for sure.

He was able to draw his sidearm from its holster. It was a NEP-5, a Neu Engollian model very similar in look and operation to a small Glock. He reached the wreck about the same time as some of the rebels did. Many had been driven back by fire from Clipper 2 and the naval salvos, but some had still braved another dash, climbing over the ripped up bodies of their comrades to get to the enemy wreck.

Lexi reached to check the pulse of Danny. It was faint, but it was there.

A brown face showed in a jagged hole in the canopy. Lexi unloaded two shots from his pistol into that face. Then he felt arms grab his legs on fire, dragging him back. He writhed in agony, unable to hold up the pistol anymore. Arms grabbed that and ripped it from his grasp.

It was light once more as he was pulled out of the cabin, then there was hot piercing stabs as blades found vulnerable parts of his body. He wished he still had the pistol for just one more shot.

From above, the pilots of Clipper 2 watched in horror. They had done their best to hold off the horde, but they had failed to deter all of them. There couldn’t possibly be any leaders giving orders to these rebels as they seemed to be cutting and tearing apart Zhukov, and dragging out Molina’s body to do the same. There was no sign of Grimwall, but surely they would do the same to him. They had no intention of taking prisoners, even though there were many rational reasons to do so.

Munitions from the Guild air support and the Varangian Guard’s ship dropped to the back of the mob, forming a wall of fire and dicing everything in its path. Still, they carried on their macabre fest of blades, chopping away, even as their comrades were chopped up by enemy munitions not far from them.

There didn’t seem to be any life left in the bodies of the USG crew of Clipper One.

FO Rolf Lutz made a fateful decision about his comrades. They couldn’t go out like this.
“Whiskey, this is Clipper 2. New coordinates for a fire mission are as follows…”

Lutz looked over to Christoph, hand on the weapons controls.
“Do it, Xolo. Let ‘em have it.”

WO Xoloupoulos had an anguished look as he flipped off the lock and fluttered the buttons on the rockets, splashing the wreck of Clipper One and surrounding area. His squadron mates were down there.

Xolo and Lutz were not unaware that Pulpit would be listening in to their transmissions. As such, Lutz didn’t bother radioing back to Pulpit to let them know to cancel any further rescue or support operations. They need not bother. However, Pulpit still went forward with sending more air support, in the form of a pair of LIRCAS ground attack craft. The LIRCAS fighters were not to support rescue operations for the downed Clipper One, but to support the living combat teams moving to reinforce the Varangian Guard holed up in the Mehatar Grande.

While it had taken longer for Clipper Two and the rest of the USG units on the ground to come to terms with the loss of one of their support aircraft, Pulpit had already shifted to allocate resources to the surviving personnel of the mission.

---

Pierre smiled. He smiled an enormous, ear-to-ear, bucktoothed grin. The telemetry data fed into his ship’s firing computer. In an instant, it was processed and transmitted electronically out to the FCS on his deck. In a well-choreographed maneuver, his crew dialed in each of the seven or so mortars with precision. The deck officer, a native Falkasian with a haggard salt-and-pepper beard, turned knowingly in his direction.

The captain made a shooting motion with his fingers.

One by one the laser-guided munitions were dropped down the tubes and expelled back out the other direction.

“Felicitations…” Pierre mumbled to himself. “C’est sa morte.”

The munitions added by the old VG warships out in the bay multiplied the destruction. Between them and the air support of Viper 1, 2, and Clipper 2, the wreck of Clipper 1, the rear area of the Guild teams working towards the hotel, and the last clot of rebels trying to act as a blocking force on the Guild rescue team working forward on Shravapran Sadak (Street), most of the targets were cleared out of the way or driven back in terror.

---

Captain Olsen watched as the HDLF force pushing up on their rear guard was devastated by the air support volleys. He began to breathe just a little bit easier, knowing that they weren’t going to be swept up and trapped into this well coordinated ambush.

“Banshee One, this is Pulpit. Proceed forward to rendezvous. Hard Push...Abort rescue. Do you copy?”

Olsen sighed. That meant the VTOL crash site had been overrun and they didn’t want to risk more resources going in for the rescue. As he heard the artillery impact from Whiskey, he realized they were hosing it down to render any surviving tech unrecoverable by the enemy. The crew was gone. They would grieve later.

“Roger. Copy that, Pulpit.” He clicked it over. “All teams, this is Banshee One, push through the block double time. Let’s get everyone to the Grande pronto. Do you copy?”

Without his prompting, he knew the Guild shooters on rear guard would be mopping up what was left of the attacking rebels on their flanks through the park that had been their LZ. Worst thing would be to leave them in their dust, high and dry as the rest of the force made it safely into the hotel compound.

Olsen swiveled his rifle up in time to cut down two rebels running down a tight alley towards him. He darted across the alley to the other side with a fusillade of fire kicking up the dirt around him. They hadn’t gotten them all. Banshee, Merchant, Raven and Hammer, plus their VG escorts would be under fire the whole run to the hotel.

The Guild troops loaded up any wounded they had onto makeshift stretchers and continued to leapfrog forward, covering as many angles as possible and taking sparing, well aimed shots to conserve ammo. Several rebels had avoided the air strikes by ducking into the buildings during those runs. Now they were pouring back out to rejoin the fight.

---

“What’s the plan to retrieve Clipper One?” Eelin screamed into her comms, although over the din of battle it might as well have been a whisper. “If we can get them into some kind of hard cover, Heimlick and Sparky can probably extract them!”

Olsen winced. It was crucial info he had not passed along, but to be fair, he thought she might have heard via the coordinates given to Whiskey.
“Sorry, Innkeeper. Clipper One is a no-go. Non recoverable. We need to push on and get to the rendezvous.”
He snapped off another double tap into a rebel rushing up through a building gap towards a gate leading to the street. He fast walked on, hoping to intercept the rear guard and roust them to chase after the convoy. Time was now of the essence, before the HDLF could regroup and try to squeeze them again.

She came up behind him quickly, swatting him on the back to get his attention. He towered over her, but she bore holes through his skull.

“No one gets left behind! Not on my watch. We’re going in… You can run an evac. Just keep a truck waiting for us and we’ll Indiana Jones our way back to the Hotel.” She acridly spat, insulted by even the prospect of high-tailing it.

Olsen grunted as she slapped him, already annoyed before this by the Falkasian woman. He made sure his mic was off to the group net before shouting back at her.
“You’re not listening! There’s nobody left at Clipper One, Kirves. You’re risking living bodies for dead ones. Now is not the time for that shit. We need to get everyone into your hotel before we’re all cut down in the street.”

A stone-cold calm immediately washed over Kirves. Any emotion she had on her face was gone in an instant. She stepped backwards, deliberately, while maintaining steely eye contact with. It was clear she took personally the change in ROE.

With her off-hand, she fingered the switch on her comm device.

“Dagmar, collect the doctors, set the building to blow, and work towards the hotel. We’ll rejoin there.”

A staccato burst and demonic laughter was the only response from the other end.

---

“Joseph is down! I say again, Joseph is down! He’s still alive but he doesn’t look good - shit!”

Haas, the leader of Raven, hissed as she dropped down to one knee so that she could slap a fresh magazine into her service rifle. In the last few minutes, she could have sworn that things had gone from bad to worse. While the attack runs had certainly knocked their opposition off-kilter, nothing was forever. She had been in enough firefights to know that the enemy would regroup sooner rather than later, at this rate. Even at the squad level, insurgents like this could still be plenty dangerous to her team. With one of their helicopters down, she wasn’t sure if the remaining three would even be able to keep up the support for too long.

“Grab him and keep moving! We might be able to get him on one of the trucks while we move!” There was a small relief that came with the fact that she was working with professionals across the board. If not for the other teams, she had no doubt that her own would have faced being overrun already. The sergeant took a deep breath and then sprung up to fire a few more shots. More rebels ahead of her dropped, but it didn’t come with much relief. For every one that fell, there seemed to already be another ready to take their place.

“Banshee One, this is Raven One, we read you. We’re going to push hard to the rendezvous.” She fired off another burst, as her men fell in on either side of her. “Be advised, we have walking wounded. Not at peak combat efficiency at this time, over.”
Brevity was key in a battle like this. Especially when Raven needed every man they could get on the firing line, not the radio.

“You’re not the only ones, Raven One. Let’s try to get them on the trucks.” Olsen was in line with her thinking.
He had confirmed with Davis and Hammer, and Merchant. Kirves and her reception committee stuck with them too, despite her earlier attempts to split for a Clipper One rescue.

---

They moved down the wide street, firing, ducking to cover, lapping their teammates and leapfrogging their way forward. When they incurred another wounded, one of the Mahingra jeeps would slow, pick them up, and speed ahead to try to transfer them to the trucks, or keep them on board. As they got closer to the hotel, the jeeps were able to drop the wounded off with the VG troops holding down the hotel, then race back down the street for more, keeping in a ragged pattern. Hammer Team kept to vehicle defense

Merchant, and some of the shooters from the other teams split down the side streets to keep them from being flanked by the rebels. The HDLF fighters were shocked when their supposed safe gathering areas were disrupted by grenades, followed by accurate and deadly fire.

All the while, air support from Viper and Clipper Two, along with fire missions called out to Whiskey, broke up any big formations of pursuing rebels in the area.

As they neared the hotel, more Varangian Guard were able to add their fire to the suppression of the HDLF attack. The trucks and jeeps were the first ones in, loaded up with wounded and casualties squeezed in among the ammo and supplies. They went down a ramp into the sublevel parking garage of the Grande. Then the teams that were left acted as rear guard for each other.

Last through the little courtyard plaza in front of the Grande, where they were still taking fire from higher floors and rooftops, was Banshee Team, as they would stick with their Captain, and Olsen was determined to see all friendlies into cover before getting his own butt to safety. There were also a few diehard Falkasians and other nationals from the Varangian Guard who were not interested in taking orders from Banshee One, and also determined to be the last ones in the door, or in this case, a former facade window frame of the hotel lobby, turned into an entrance with a sliding corrugated steel panel that would be put back in place once everyone was through.

They trickled in, or hobbled as the case may be, until the makeshift armored gateway was closed and the last of the Guild troopers were safely in the hotel lobby. A later repeated head count would confirm this.

With all friendlies out of the line of fire, Viper and Clipper Two, plus the other ground support fast movers called in by Mavala, set in on the rebels who tried to pursue the Guild teams into the Grande, laying waste to groups and identified RPGs or positions where they tried to set up MG nests.

With the ambush failed and most of the top HDLF leadership of these units killed, plus most of their Mubatan and Cardwithian advisors bugged out, they faded away, as fluidly as they had swarmed in. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of bodies lay scattered from the Grande, all the way back to the municipal park along Shravapran Sadak. Also on the docks parallel to Shravapran, another scene of similar carnage was evident. The sides streets parallel and crossing also filled with many unfortunate rebels who thought they were safe from direct fire. Fires from aircraft munitions tearing apart floors of nearby buildings, cars, kiosks and other objects on the streets raged. The docks were torn asunder from the VG battleship fire, with huge craters on the concrete back to the wall that led to the tenements.

The first part of the Battle of Mehatar was over, but the second part, the siege of the Grande, was just beginning. The HDLF didn’t just go home. They lurked out of sight, ready to pour fire onto anything that moved outside the hotel. More rebels were showing up, some who hadn’t picked up a rifle or weapon in quite a long time. They gathered in cellars, warehouses, and recently vacated shops for when they would get up enough strength to rush the foreign devils in the hotel.

Captain Olsen looked around the lobby as he pulled out a water bottle. It was dingy and beat up from being used as other than a hotel lobby, with a few bullet holes from earlier skirmishes. Most of the shops that were located in the lobby were emptied of anything useful, but for one that carried media and tourist tchotchkes that seemed fairly untouched. Next to it was a working space for travelling businessmen, with kiosks to set up laptops.
Olsen took a gulp then lowered the bottle, having gotten rid of the cottonmouth. He clicked on the group net.
“Hammer, Raven, Merchant Leaders, let’s meet in the lobby business space in 5.”

He then walked over to where Eelin stood smirking and watching as her group helped the new arrivals get situated or add to the defenses.
“Well, Kirves. You got us here. You got some fuckin’ resupply. Now what?”

RP, besides myself, contributed by Shalum, Falkasia, Wandering Argonians, and Jaragupta

[Jaragupta]

The Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

General Halaganda sat waiting in one of the many secret rooms in the Palace. He made sure they moved around frequently, the plotters only finding out last minute where the meeting was to be held. He had learned long ago from his predecessor Royal Guard commanders through the ages, no one place in the Palace was completely invulnerable to monitoring or a strike, when it came to enemies from within.

This was a high level meeting, with only Royal Guard Colonels and above in attendance, so an officer such as Major Vamataryinja would not have been invited, and instead, they were expected to be out conducting their regular duties. The most damning fact: Air Force General Keshav Gayarvad was there, as were 2 JRA Generals and 4 Colonels representing the Leopard and Rhino regiments.

Major Vamataryinja was not unaware of most of their presence. He had done what he could to set trip wires in a very deep layer in the security system to tell him when a visitor was registered in through the Palace gates, either by a guard, or their badge scanned in directly. Still, some of them had been registered, others had been ushered in without a camera on or being registered into the log. It was both frustrating and unsettling. He wanted to know who was in that meeting as much as he wanted to know what was being said inside the room. He partially knew the answer to the first, and would be completely out of luck on the second.

---

Meanwhile, in the secret conference…

“...that’s why, General Halaganda, I think we have to reconsider our timetable. They’re obviously alerted to us somehow. More so than when they first arrived, at any rate.”

Halaganda chuckled at that, not quite bursting into outright laughter, but he certainly seemed ready to do so.
“They are what...50, 60 men total? Are you scared of a few dozen foreigners, Colonel? They aren’t even front line fighters, but bodyguards, for Vishnu’s sake!”

General Gayarvad frowned.
“They are part of the Mercenary Guild. I wouldn’t take their training for granted, General. Besides, I would consider them just a tripwire to alert the rest of the mercenary forces that something is amiss. They could gather a large response very quickly.”

Halaganda waved a hand.
“Of course, I am aware of this. It’s all about timing and control of the skies, General, as well as the power of persuasion. We have to make sure that we can convince our forces that the Rajah’s government is corrupted and his Majesty, is in fact, a prisoner of the foreign mercenaries and those Gauls. As for the mercenary response, I have a plan for that. I am certain we can get most of them in their Mavala Headquarters, including and most hopefully, that one eyed freak, Colonel Cogant. The Gauls are too far East to be effective in time....However, a lot depends on you, General Gayarvad, shutting down their bases before they can get support in the air.”

“Yes, we are much more prepared since we last discussed the plan.”

“How much notice would you need?”

“Hhmm...twelve hours?”

“That’s a lot of time. A lot of import could be decided within mere minutes.”

“That’s the best I can give you. Any less and we could move, but not cautiously and covertly. We would be broadcasting our intentions and they would be prepared to counter us.”

“I thought they were pretty tied up with all the actions going on in the southern cities, on Gahana, and this new Gaul campaign in the Eastern sector? What is called? Table Rase?”

“For the most part, yes. The Gauls are relying on their own air from the carrier or flown in from Dachine, plus some of our aircraft…” Halaganda frowned at that, but it couldn’t be helped if they were still to keep up a semblance of cooperation until H-Hour, and preferably post-coup, also, should the allies accept it.
“...The Guild air wing is pretty focused to the south and Gahana, but they do have the one air base near the capital here, as you know. Ghumavadarnadi Air Base. They call it Panther Forward Air Base. It is still technically ours, but...they have taken over a lot of the operations there. A lot of our preparations have been to get our personnel in key positions to overwhelm theirs when the time arrives…if they don’t stand down.”

Another Colonel spoke up,
“Are we assuming the Gauls might stand down? What if they just stand aside and let it happen?”

“We cannot count on that, Colonel.”

Halaganda agreed,
“They’re not going to just stand aside and neither will the Guild stay neutral. These Myrmidon Security goons won’t stand down, and the rest of the Guild won’t leave their fellow mercenaries hanging to dry. If there’s one thing I have learned about them, it is that they are not as cutthroat and fluid in their loyalty as stories about your typical mercenaries would suggest.”

“I get that impression from their air wing personnel, as well.” The Air Force Commander agreed.

Halaganda nodded.
“Yes. Anyway...Assuming that everything keeps on track, I will give the signal on this date…”

---

Later that afternoon, towards evening, Major Vamataryinja had made his way to the meeting spot. He had insisted that they not meet in the Gardens again as it might be getting too predictable. Being paranoid was keeping him and his family alive.

There was a pathway that meandered from the Gardens towards the Greenhouses. He waited on a bench behind the last Greenhouse, staring out towards the creek that wound out and around, defining the estate of the Palace. On the other side of the creek lay woods, then corporate holdings, laboratories and work centers. Enemies of the Rajah had tried their luck to penetrate the Palace by the backwoods way, only to find out how bad an idea that was. There were several sensors, mines, automated gatling guns, and other surprises that would pop out of the ground and rocks to deal with intruders. Nothing that was lethal to the deer and other wild creatures that roamed the woods, but only tuned in to the human signature. Hence the mines installed were quite expensive, in order to sense the weight of only humans. As ideal a meeting spot as the woods might be, the intruder countermeasures made them unusable to Vamataryinja and Shaw’s purposes.

This last greenhouse was hardly ever used, and still the Major had checked the schedule just to make sure. He actually had an app on his phone that he could use to monitor card access to most of the major points around the Palace grounds. He’d had to make sure he bumped this greenhouse up on the list as it had been far down on the menu previous to his edits. What had he cared about who visited the far greenhouse, or any of them for that matter, before today? The more he had scoped it out, the more he realized he should have done so earlier because of its ideal placement as a conspiratorial spot. How many Palace intrigue plots had been cooked up right in this vicinity in the past?

He sat on a bench outside, up against the back glass wall of the greenhouse.
He was enjoying, if that could be the description, a cigarette as he waited. He would need to cut back when this was over...if he even made it to the other side.

After spending a good period of time ensuring that he was not being followed, and that no incidental observer was around, Corey Shaw finally approached the agreed upon location for the meeting between him and the 'good' Major.

Upon arriving at the meeting site, the lingering and slow floating stench of the horrible native cigarette assaulted his senses, and he had to fight the urge to let out an uncomfortable cough. He observed the Major seated upon a bench, and without a word he walked towards the man, and took a seating position next to him. Still silent, Corey reached into his suit's internal chest pocket, and produced a small metal tin. He opened the thin, golden tin, and produced two cigars from within. He offered one to the man seated next to him. He knew that the recipient would probably not know it, but the offering of a cigar held significant cultural and symbolic meaning in Port Emberian culture.

The Royal Guard Major gave a sideways glance to Shaw as he sat, and only grunted in acknowledgement. When the cigar was offered, he took it with a longer glance at the foreign mercenary.
“My thanks.”
He looked at the half smoked local butt in his other hand and dropped it to the ground to be smashed into the sandy dirt by his shoe, then reached into his pocket for his steel lighter while simultaneously biting off one end of the cigar. He flicked and held the lighter out to the Port Emberian first.

Simultaneously, Corey produced a small cigar cutter from a pocket, cutting off the end neatly, and formed a soft smile at the uncultured biting show that just took place next to him. He moved his body forward after placing the cigar in his mouth, in order to reach the burning flame on offer. After the cigar was lit, he sat back with his back against the bench, exhaling several large clouds of smoke. Corey adored the smell and taste which was produced. These hand rolled marvels were some of the most sought-after cigars back home, as everything in use, from the leaf to the infusing rum, was top quality. After a few puffs, and a few more moments of silence, Corey spoke,
"Any reason why we cannot meet inside the Greenhouse structure?"

Major Vamataryinja snorted, then leaned back on the bench, his head lightly thudding against the greenhouse wall behind him as he drew on the cigar. He waited several beats to answer.
“We cannot smoke in there, sahib. Climate sensors in the greenhouse will start to...eh...chirp? Make noise? And it will give away our meeting. Don’t worry. No one ever seems to come down here behind the greenhouses, at least not by the reports I read. Also, I control the camera views on these CCTVs...” He waved around to 2 cameras attached to the roof overhang above them, and one on the middle greenhouse next door.

"Of course…" Corey replied with a soft nod. Despite the general dislike between them, Corey had begun to respect the competence of the Major. After a few short moments of silence, Corey continued, "I trust you have some actionable updates for me?"

Vamataryinja sighed and leaned forward once again, looking sideways at Shaw as he took another puff.
“I know you will be mad, but...Nothing tangible. He has several RJA officers, and the RJ Air Force commander, Gayarvad, in his pocket, as you know...Still no sign that Marshall Ralabar Balakrishnan, the Chief of Staff, is with him.
What I do know is this...with this stalemate between the two sides...it is speeding up the clock on their plans. There is a lot of rumbling...grumbling?...in the ranks that the government and the Marshal have gone soft in letting the ISVC occupy Gahana for this long without a counterattack response...with no real challenge.
Obviously, the reality is a parity stalemate. They can’t land troops, even with the help of your Guild friends, without getting slaughtered by the communist defenses, and they can’t fly over Gahana airspace for long without a catastrophic response. The same goes for the Reds trying to invade the main island and our defenses. We will mow them down. Stalemate. But it’s all about image. The common soldier only knows that we lost Gahana to the ‘commies’ and our government doesn't seem to be doing anything to get it back…The people, everyone but the Hamikhs, feel the same...”

Corey let out a soft sigh, followed up by a slow and deep drag upon his fragrant cigar, allowing the sound of silence to dominate the atmosphere. Despite not being on the front lines himself, he understood completely what the Major had reported, as he himself had been a military officer for many years, thus he knew how dangerous it was to the troops morale if Command appeared weak, despite them not knowing all the hard facts.

Finally breaking the silence, Corey responded, "I understand that Major, yet this is not the type of intel I need… Whilst the troop morale plays a vital role, it's the head of the snake and its plans which I am concerned about."

“Mr. Shaw, you are missing the point. The point is that General Halaganda is aware of all this. Troop morale...the state of the military, and the Kingdom is very important. Absolutely vital to his plans. He wants to be the hero in this while making the rest of the government seem ineffectual. He will be the one to turn around the Kingdom and make the Rajah act, or so he will say. His ability to gain the support of the people, the military and the Pujari and Swami (Hindu clergy) is everything for this coup to succeed. That is why...even though I have not heard a concrete date...I know that he will strike sooner rather than later with the sentiment on his side and the military stalemate as it is now. I know him...I know how he thinks.”

Corey let out an audible sigh as he stroked his neatly trimmed beard absent mindedly. "Level with me, Major - what are the realistic chances of you obtaining actionable, physical evidence of the planned coup, preferably before we are both dragged by our entrails through the streets of the capital? And, in your opinion, what are the chances of this planned coup to continue, should the good General become… indisposed?"

Bagheera looked at Corey, then off into the woods past the stream.
“The chances of gaining more solid evidence are slim, Sahib Shaw. The chances that the coup might collapse if General Halaganda disappears from the picture are...how do you say...half-half...fifty percentage? As I said, there are some high-up plotters in our military that are also obviously involved. There’s a chance that they won’t go through with it if he’s out of the picture. They might sit and do nothing, in such case...

...On the other hand, I don’t know if one of these other top Generals is actually the one pulling the strings, and Halaganda is only doing his bidding. In that instance that Halaganda is removed, even if they can’t get the Royal Guard to open the Palace from within, they may just lay siege to it. I don’t think that they would ultimately succeed before our allies stepped in, Army units defected back to the loyalists, or the people turned against them, but it would be bloody, nonetheless...”
He paused and sighed, his thoughts again travelling to his family, his friends and comrades while he took another puff of the cigar.
“That is what I think.”

Corey nodded slowly as he too took another deep drag of his luxurious cigar. Deep in thought, he did not speak for several moments, allowing the gentle breeze of the calm tropical wind to dominate the conversation. He sighed softly before finally replying,
"Valuable insight, Major. It would thus appear that if something drastic does not change in our favour, or if you do not luck into concrete evidence soon, we will both be very much fucked, very soon."

Bagheera gave a wistful smile, puffing again as Shaw spoke.
“That is very much how it appears, Sahib. I would, on this rare occasion, agree with you.”

Corey let out a chuckle before replying, looking straight at Bagheera as he did,
"Well there is a shred of good news at least… The new identity documents of yourself and your family are in place… Tomorrow, a very good smuggler with a very good team will be arriving in-country, ready to lift you and yours to safety at a moment's notice."

Major Vamataryinja breathed a shaky, relieved sigh.
“That is good news. I won’t lie. I had my doubts about you, Sahib. Tell me though, why a smuggler? Why not just send the team in through regular Guild channels, with their resupply and personnel rotation?”

"Well.." Corey replied, "For the sake of secrecy. No one outside of a very tight circle in Myrmidon knows about our… arrangement. Now whilst I trust the remainder of the Guild, it takes but one loose tongue to ruin a day. So, for the sake of simplicity - the less folks know about you, the safer you are."

The Major smiled even wider.
“That is why I like you even more now, Sahib Shaw. You are starting to think like a true Jaraguptan…” He tapped the butt of his cigar up to his temple.
“You need to be suspicious of everyone, as do I. My very survival, and that of the Kingdom, depends on it.”
He stood up.
“If I hear anything more, I will get word to you soonest through our regular channels, Sahib...Until then. Bahowt Dhanyavaad. Pehrr Milenge (Thank you very much. See you later).” Bagheera gave a slight bow, then he sauntered off up the path that wound behind the greenhouses, still taking strong puffs of the cigar.

Co-RP’d with Port Ember

[The Cardwith Islands]

This first part of the post continues on the scene from the last portion of this post, to wrap up that issue.

Much Earlier in the GC Media Center
New ISVC JAREXCOM HQ
Gahana City, People’s Republic of Gahana

There was never another perfect moment for Brigade General Martin Evans to appear on the Command Council floor in the ISVC HQ than at that moment, when the question of his place in the current hierarchy came into question. They took in his arrival with both mild surprise and burning curiosity, after re-capping their current battle situation.

Major Sandanezwe agreed about the mysterious lack of communication from their PAS comrades,
“It is odd. Hopefully we can amend that soon. So that is our situation as of now. It is good to have you join us, Brigadier-General. What is your take on it?”

They all turned to him, awaiting his input. Evans nodded, but waved in a dismissive manner, indicating they should continue on without him. Whatever thoughts he was harboring, he was husbanding them for a later time during their command meeting than now.

At that moment, an orderly of Lieutenant rank ran up with a print out, but stopped short as he reached the table. The young man was Slavic in nature, wearing a not readily identifiable set of camo fatigues, so it would not be easy for the command staff to place his nationality right away. Confusion was evident on his face as he wondered who to report to first.

Major Sandanezwe was the first to notice him, as his peripheral senses were just slightly more highly tuned than the rest of the ISVC officers.
“What is it, Lieutenant? It must be important to interrupt us.”

“Oh, but it is, Major. Of utmost importance and probably bringing clarity to the discussion. It’s the response we have been awaiting from Bratislava. Comms have finally been re-established.” He held up the computer printout to emphasize his point.

The Mubatan Major smirked, starting to realize what the Lieutenant might mean.
“Well then, please read off what you have.”

“Er...Yes, sir…” The young officer held up the paper quite close, obviously to block out the glaring stares of the table of higher ranked officers.
“To, um...ISVC HQ Command, PRG, JAREXCOM. Effective immediately for cleared command personnel...Be advised that Revolutionary Action Command, Bratislava, appoints Tyes Flecken of Wochaystein, Shadow Turma Commander, to overall commander of ISVC land and air forces, People’s Republic of Gahana, ally to the ISVC. This command is in immediate effect and all deference to be given to the new commander.

Brevet promotion to ISVC Comrade Brigadier/Brigade General for Commander Flecken is also immediately effective with all pay, presentation, and privileges afforded to the rank.

Recommend immediate coordination with allied commander of local force, Brigadier Martin Evans, to both assist and gain cooperation of local forces of PRG.

Further coordination with Admiralty of ISVN is recommended for progressive operations in liberation of Jaraguptan mainland.

Re-establish communication and coordination with Comrade Colonel Fodenka of CAIF Team Operations, Jaragupta mainland soonest in line with previous stated goal.

Brevet promotion to ISVC Comrade Brigadier/Brigade General for Comrade Colonel Fodenka is also immediately effective with all pay, presentation, and privileges afforded to the rank, effective upon re-establishment of proper communications with covert CAIF group, JAREXCOM.

As directed by the full authority of Comrade General Joffard Tozimbga, Commander of ISVC Forces; including and under the authority of Commissar Henry Perkins of the Revolutionary Action Commissariat. Authentication verified.

Er...Nothing follows.”

All the ISVC commanders had smiles on their faces but one. It brought their debate to a tidy close. Colonel Tervejsson, of course, was the only one with a scowl, but even he knew when it was time to give in.
He nodded begrudgingly.
“Very well then. I guess that settles that. Comrade Commander Flecken, congratulations to you.”

Major Sandanezwe corrected, still smiling,
“Comrade Brigadier Flecken, Commander of ISVC Forces - Gahana. I am honored to be here this moment with you. I would be more honored if you would let me pin you with your rank.”

The others also gave handshakes and salutes to Tyes Flecken, with short words of encouragement.

To Flecken, this was quite the surprise to him when he was briefed about his promotion in advance. It had been a while since he was in command of a force this size; back in the Diarcesian Mundana Forces. After taking his pseudo-regiment out of that godforsaken country, he had put himself and his brothers and sisters on the line to advance the cause. Those preening fools back home, they don’t know the true path to a better society. Those who stood by him counted few but were all dear to him. Gradually, and by necessity, they morphed to become more like a special forces team and force multiplier, like one of the Arcana Forces in his former country of allegiance.

Being in charge of a team of force multipliers, perhaps that’s why he was chosen for promotion to Brevet Brigadier (taxiarch in Diarcesian parlance). Flecken kept his expression as unchanged as he could. He saluted to his colleagues, he returned the handshakes and received well-wishes. Of particular attention he paid to Colonel Tervejsson. Even though professional friction was present, Flecken noted that it would do well to smooth out tensions if an operation as delicate as this was to gel smoothly and succeed.

There was little time for celebration. With his new responsibilities, there was much work to do.

Credit for this portion of the post goes to Diarcesia, Mubata, Yellow Star Republic, and Vionna-Frankenlisch

---

Approaching Eastern Jaragupta

Alonzo watched as they got ever closer to the docks of the small coastal village. He was second in command of the Team. First in command, Trextel, was making sure the rest of PAST (People’s Action Strike Team) #44 were in proper disguise, had their gear, and were ready to move with the rest of the Jaraguptan fishing boat crew, most of whom also moonlighted as HDLF insurgents.

This was the trickiest part, getting ashore unchallenged. After that, their chances of survival significantly improved as they were rushed to waiting vehicles and took circuituous routes to HDLF hideouts further inland. They were far from the nearest city, Tuzarkha, but there were a lot of scattered coastal villages and ones along crucial roads and streams that led into the interior tropical forests.

This evening, they were not the only commando team venturing ashore on the main island, from the northeastern all the way to the southeastern ends of the coast of Jaragupta, ISVC teams were attempting infiltration - some on fishing or cargo trawlers like PAST #44, others more covertly via RIBs, or even swimming ashore with scuba gear, via mini submarines.

The bulk of them were Cardwithian, Great Viet, or Pan-Asian teams, but there were definitely other nations represented by the commando teams that were tasked with reinforcing the initial CAIF force, aiding HDLF large scale efforts, and targeting specific military installations, radar, and missile sites of the Royal Jaraguptan, Gaulic, and mercenary forces that opposed the People’s Republic of Gahana and its allies.

The over-inflated crew for such a small vessel, Hamikhs and Cardwithians both, set out down the docks after securing the boat and shutting down the motors. Hidden in gear bags were close combat weapons - shotguns, compact SMGs, pistols, grenades, knives, axes, and machetes.

---

Meanwhile, in quiet anticipation, three men awaited in a boathouse just one dock away. One was similar to the natives, the other also brown in skin, but ethnically different, and the third was tan, but obviously Caucasian in nature.
“Well, there they are, as predicted…”
Major Dellagon, the Gaul liaison officer in charge of the current operation, remarked.

Captain Hillard Sopengku, liaison from the Hutanjian Army Rangers, also observed. He sunk back from the open portal in the boathouse to eye the Gaulic Major.
“Yes, as I had predicted and told you all. This is their preferred method of infiltration. Almost every time. They try to sneak in operatives on a fishing or cargo boat. They do try other methods, but they often resort back to this as their primary method, jeopardizing civilian fishing and industry for their cover.”

Captain Amit Chakladar clucked his tongue in response.
“We definitely don’t like that at all. I don’t care if they are Hamikhs, they are still innocent Jaraguptan civilians.”

Dellagon shook his head.
“I don’t think they’re innocent, not if they’re harboring saboteurs.”

Chakladar shrugged.
“You don’t think that they are being forced to harbor them against their will?”

Sopengku shook his head.
“No. They would get willing allies, not blackmail or kidnap unwilling ones. That’s not how PASD operates. They want long term cover to keep as many crews and teams viable as possible, so they can alternate boats used for infiltration.”

“I’m sure at least some of those crew are HDLF members.”
The Tamar Captain replied.

“No doubt. Likely all of them.”

“Well, then, that settles that. Not that we wouldn’t have wasted them, anyway. Worth the collateral damage to get these fuckers!”

The Gaul Major looked puzzled, trying to reconcile the Jaraguptan’s earlier concern about civilians with his affirmation that they were as good as dead also, innocent or not. Apparently, once they harbored the Marxist Hamikh insurgents, whether they were coerced or not, they were forfeit.

Chakladar continued,
“I’m going to call it out to the teams to be ready.”

A junior JRA officer behind a shield, hiding in the trees, would call for them to surrender over a bullhorn.
There were teams of men under cover all around the docks, all from the Recce Platoon of the Gha Co/1st Bn/Tiger Regiment. A handful of Gaulic commandos from 1st Group/60th S.O. Bn were with them. They had temporarily bused out the bulk of the other local dock workers and boat crews on shore to a safe distance away from the ambush site, and so they couldn’t warn their compatriots. A handful had been kept in place, warned to silence with not so subtle threats by the Jaraguptan soldiers, just to keep up some semblance of appearance.

The joint commando teams were armed with sniper rifles, an RPG, and even a mortar, along with their regular close combat weapons and ARs. They were prepared for anything the ISVC operatives might attempt.

Dellagon grabbed the Jaraguptan Royal Army Captain’s hand with the two way radio in it before he could hold it up and speak into it.
“No, wait. Wait until they are all off the boat and to the end of the dock. You need to get them all. They will swim for it if they have to. We can capture them alive.”

Sopengku, the Hutanjian, disagreed.
“They won’t surrender, nor will they talk if you capture them. Wasted effort.”

The Jaraguptan officer agreed.
“We don’t want them alive. We want to make an example of them.”

Dellagon removed his hand, shrugging the classic Gaulic shrug.
“Well, then. Whatever. Do what you must. You will make this a wasted opportunity. Surely one of them will talk. Still, you might want to wait until they are fully in the trap.”

---

Alonzo sensed something was wrong well before they heard the bullhorn. There were a lot fewer fishermen and Hamikh village folk about, and the ones they did see had a weird vibe in their demeanor. They were almost rigid and anxious. None of them were smiling. That was the giveaway. He exchanged glances with Trextel, who also looked alarmed.

Actually, right before the Jaraguptan voice blared through the mega horn, he caught sight of a booted foot in prone position poking out from behind low cover. Grain sack pile, just off the docks. It was definitely a JRA standard issue boot. That was the final giveaway.

It didn't matter at what point they realized they were in danger, as neither he nor Trextel had any way to communicate it quickly enough to their team to get them into defensive action. The moment they had cut the engine and stepped off the boat, they were fucked. PASD didn't have a directive for endangered teams to fight to the death, or kill themselves rather than fall into enemy hands.

However, PAST cells were all highly trained covert operatives that knew what was at stake. Imminent capture meant compromising everyone they were working with. It likely also meant torture for the whole team. In Hutanjia that had been the case, here in the Kingdom, and in dozens of other countries they had operated within. They had no choice but to fight, ensuring they were killed in the process.

It was for this reason that Alonzo's attempt to stop his team from reacting was to no avail. The JRA soldier was unable to even get through his sentence before the Cardwithians cut loose, peppering the blind and bulletproof riot shield with several bursts from machine pistols, compact SMGs, and shotguns.

Response was immediate, overlapping the bursts and blasts from the rebels and their foreign socialist commando allies.
Alonzo felt hot lead enter his body. White hot pain flared as his body began to collapse in on itself, the dock rushing up to meet his face. He dropped his SMG, having only gotten off a couple shots. He had just enough time to register the rest of his team being cut down by withering fire, spinning and crashing all along the dock. Some flopped into the brackish water below. The enemy wasn't as concerned about taking prisoners as he might have first thought. And that was his last thought.

---

A few other teams were swept up this way, especially those attempting to infiltrate into the heart of the Gaulic sector. However, many others were successful, at least initially. The ISVC was able to overwhelm the Jaraguptan inability to cover every beach in the eastern half of the Kingdom, even though it was at the steep cost of many highly trained operatives.

News, delayed by a couple hours, was transmitted back to Gahana through the usual covert channels, along with some of the ISVC mini submarines that remained on station off shore, inbetween trying to avoid Royal Jaraguptan naval defenses and ASW measures.
It was received by Taxiarch Flecken and his command staff in Gahana City, and they prepared the next steps of their campaign.

Of course, the feelings were mixed as they realized the cost, losing so many of their elite forces, but they had also landed many driving deep into the enemy’s territory, to later have them burst forth, ripping up the Royal Jaraguptan and Gaulic ability to fight. The HDLF cells and ISVC special operations forces would usher in the conventional ISVC invasion that would sweep away the imperialists and finally liberate the whole island.

RP Credit to Jaragupta, Terre des Gaules, and Hutanjia

[USG Security Corporation]

The combined Guild group of operators consisting of Hammer (Blackwood), Raven (SSI), Banshee (USG), and Merchant (USG) teams were originally to escort a re-supply dropped at a nearby park/LZ to the Varangian Guard HQ in the Hotel, as well as scout out the situation. A local squad of Jaraguptan Royal Army drivers met them to load up the supplies.

Assaulted the minute they landed by constant attacks from the HDLF Marxist rebels in massive force around the area, they have fought their way the few blocks from the park to the Hotel, with the assistance of Guild air support, and VG naval support. Sending the convoy of trucks ahead with some protection, the rest of the Guild contractors fought their way up the street to the hotel on foot. One USG VTOL gunship has crashed, with the surviving crew slaughtered by crazed rebels. The events are reminiscent of a scene out of the Battle of Mogadishu.

The whole city of Mehatar is under siege by multiple units of the HDLF, under advisement and assistance from their ISVC cadre. The local JRA and gendarme units are crumbling. The situation looks bleak, to say the least. The Guild Team leaders meet in the hotel's Guest Business Center for an in person SITREP and strat session...

Guest Business Center
The Mehatar Grande Hotel
Mehatar, Southern Jaragupta

They strolled through the lobby.

“What you see is what we got,” Eelin replied, motioning with her hand. “We have some emergency stores below in the parking garage, and a few caches in some of the nearby buildings… but unless we’re willing to go on patrol, those are pretty much written off. Upside is, we can flatten the building if they try to use it against us.”

She smirked again and pat her thigh. “Booby-traps. Never abandon an outpost without leaving a welcome present.”

“Hmmm.” Olsen replied absently, thinking. “Are there any tunnels out of here? Connecting to, or under, the garage, maybe? Sewer or utility tunnels possibly…”

She cocked her head slightly, processing the options. “No, we’ve covered and sealed most of them,” she replied slowly, mulling the details over.
“The garage isn’t too deep, but the lowest level flooded when we had to divert power to our command center from the bilge pump. I would think that, with some minor renovations, we could probably find a parallel tunnel to gain us access.”

“Boom?” Dagmar asked from behind, incredulously. Her face was stained in the black-red cloak of battle.

“Boom.” Eelin replied. “Let’s do some redecorating!”

Olsen nodded. “Soon.”
He joined the other Team leaders with Kirves in the abandoned hotel lobby business office where they agreed to set up. He eyed everyone: Sgt Haas of Raven, Davis of Hammer, Lt. Nkume of Merchant, Kirves of the VG garrison, and even called on Sgt. Narapinda to join them.

Narapinda was the senior NCO of the JRA squad from Jha Co/1 Bn/Cheetah Reg that had driven the vehicles loaded with the resupply. Now the Jaraguptans were stuck with the Guild mercs, unable to leave without being barbecued by the swarming HDLF outside. Olsen was going to make sure they were properly armed to man the lines. They weren’t driving anywhere, might as well put them to use with their basic soldier skills and have them fight for their survival like everyone else.

The Guild group hadn’t expected to hit such a hot LZ, but that was part of the job. You had to assume somebody had fucked up something along the line somewhere. In this case, both on the ground intel and aerial recon had failed them.
“Before we begin...What’s our headcount? Who did we lose?”

Sergeant Haas grimaced as she reached up to undo the straps of her helmet. Beneath the sturdy material, and what padding it offered, she was a sweaty mess. “It could be better, all things considered, but it could be worse. We only lost one, but I’ve got a couple guys who are hurt pretty bad.”

The Shalumite rolled her shoulders and shook her head. “Honestly? There’s a couple who I’m not sure if they’ll make it or not.” It was the first contracting job she had ever been on where they got shot at more than they did actually guard a person or facility.

Olsen let out a “Mmhmm” as he scratched his chin. "I'm sorry..."
All the Guild team medics had set up an aid station, deeper in the lobby of the hotel, to pool resources and keep the critical cases in one spot to be monitored.

Lt. Nkume hung his head lower. Then the dark Nigerian looked up.
“We lost two on Merchant, two more wounded, but only slightly. They can still fight.”

Davis, Hammer Team Leader, had been collecting LACE reports from his gun-teams for the past few minutes. His mortar teams had likewise been setting up for counter-battery & to keep the milling hostiles off the rooftops with airburst munitions, but they’d not hung any rounds yet and were therefore ‘green’ across the board. His former frogmen sniper/spotter/FO team had been delegated the task of setting in the gun teams, deconflicting symmetries of fire while keeping overlapping kill-lanes on expected avenues of approach.

They’d only recently finished that tasking & had positioned themselves on some of the upper floors to assist with directing mortar rounds and adding their own precision fire to any brave insurgents who decided to seek a better firing position on the surrounding rooftops. They, too, were ‘green’ for the moment, like the gun & mortar teams. Bringing all that extra ammo had been a great idea after all…

“All my guys are green & set-in to hold this fucker for the next eighteen or so hours. Do we have any satellite imagery of the surrounding area? I’d like to get some of those buildings numbered so the mortars have quicker reference points…”

Still on Davis’ ‘to-do’ list was to push a SITREP back to Dekker at the main Blackwood compound. While they’d not taken any serious casualties (a few of the guys, Davis included, had a few new burns from hot links & brass, and the occasional shrapnel wound), the Big Man would want to know the status of his only QRF element. With Davis & his gun/mortar teams otherwise engaged, they’d slowed their COIN operations accordingly to support the FID teams embedded with the J-Gup nationals. He’d sling that SITREP once he got an answer on the satellite imagery. Working overtly meant he didn’t have to meddle with comms windows & that was something he was suddenly very appreciative of.

Eelin Kirves finished the reporting. “The rear guard should be back through the gate any minute now. Then we’ll know for sure about my people…”

Captain Olsen nodded to her, then scanned the other team leaders’ faces.
“Sorry we lost some good people out there. Don't hold it against yourselves..." He looked at Haas and Nkume.
"...We’ll have drinks later in their honor. Banshee team reports no losses, although a couple of my people got dinged up pretty good. As for everyone’s wounded, we have the joint aid station set up and rotating medics in there. I think they’re in one of the hallways going back to a big office...” Unbeknownst to him or anyone, the Guild QRF medic station had setup in the spacious office of the former General Manager of the hotel, who was long gone, at least from this location, if not from Terra Firma altogether. “...They painted a big red cross on the corner facing the big lobby here. Now...brass tacks...”

He then pulled out a GXT tablet, encased in a battered aluminum outer cover.
“I have the city grid map on here. I have a USB cord that might hook up to a printer…” He looked at a dust covered one in the corner of the former guest business center that was in dubious condition. “... Or...I could just forward it to your device, Davis, for your mortar teams.”

He pulled up the latest SPOTREPs from HQ:
“We still have clear comms with Pulpit, minimal jamming. We hope to get reinforcements, but shit is also blowing up in Suraksha, Gyani, and Pradhaan. East coast is on fire and they’re expecting the Reds to hit soon. Guild has been shipping groups over there to reinforce SSI, Gaul, and local lines. They can’t spare a large breakthrough force here, but that could change if they think the ISVC will exploit this chaos and use Mehatar as the door in...”
It was a very real possibility at this point that they would shift from hitting the well fortified east coast to hooking to the south, taking advantage of the very loose situation in Mehatar. If they had a beachhead here, it wasn’t a far march to Mavala, the capital.

“...So, that means if we’re gonna get relief right now, it’s going to come from locals here...the JRA’s Cheetah Regiment has been fighting hard, but they have taken big losses. The gendarmes are practically non-existant. We might be able to call in more air support. If evac is essential, I can get that rolling, but...Pulpit isn’t ready to write off Mehatar.
If we lose this city now, we’re gonna have a bitch of a time taking it back later. So they want us to hold tight and fuck shit up as long as we can until they can figure something out or free up that rescue column.”

“I have pickets along the walls, and some of these outlying builds have tunnels underneath we’ve been using.” She gestured with her finger to the map. “Unless they bring in armor or explosives, the exterior wall is going to effectively be impenetrable… or if they find a way in through the sewers. But the one service door we’ve sealed up with concrete and claymores. We’ll hear them coming long before we actually have to deal with them.”

Eelin used the same finger to circle the hotel. “We’ll call our central hub here ”Alamo”... and no, I don’t intend to die here, before any of your smartasses ask.”

Olsen frowned. Not any history he had learned in his home country of Hawkwick, nor the smattering of USG Regimental lore, or Neu Engollian history he had picked up in his time with them and the rich historical connection that the Uli-Schwyz had to their home nation, had informed him of the significance of the name Alamo, but from context, he think he understood. It was the equivalent of Meggido. The last stand.

Davis said,
“Sure… Alamo works for me. Do you need me to delegate a gun-team to relocate to holding the lobby?”

“That’d be great. We can take down the plywood and fabricate some gun slits to help cover the courtyards. I can retask my men to the roof and wall pickets in case of a breach.” Eelin replied.

Davis was quite familiar with the analogy, and unconcerned about whatever parallels it drew. He’d taken the paycheck for this gig, he’d live with the consequences. Blackwood was oddly good about getting assets distributed amongst the next-of-kin in the event his number finally came up. Honestly it had to, one of these days. Such thoughts were not productive, however, and he pushed them to the back of his mind. Best to focus on the now, or get relegated to the past-tense himself.

He’d been busy tapping a report to his boss in his sat-phone, firing off a text-based message that was only lightly encrypted but equally light on details. Anyone intercepting it would simply find the disheartening information that he had all of his guys & they had plenty of ammo. Individual updates from each gun team let him know that everyone was about as fortified as they were going to get, short of having terra firma to dig into & bags to stuff it in. The mortar crews had found some buckets in one of the janitorial rooms & had been busy filling them with water in the event their tubes got too hot.

Assistant gunners had done much of the same, stockpiling drinking water & piss buckets nearby their respective positions. A few had already begun rest rotations while there was a bit of a lull in the action, snacking on field rations while the main gunners scanned their assigned sectors. This could shape up to be a long evening & Davis was glad his men were preparing accordingly. He himself had opened a small plastic packet of one of his favorites; ‘PRETZELS, CHEDDAR CHEESE FILLED’ and had been crunching on them for the past few minutes.

Olsen also added,
“I think we’ll have more than just your gun team. I can put a few guys down here too, from Banshee and Merchant. No need to have just one group shoulder that burden. I have a feeling we’re going to experience more Asian-style human wave rushes before the dawn. But also some heavy ordnance and sniper teams upstairs to pick off a bunch before they can get in damaging range.”

To punctuate this, rounds audibly peppered along the hotel outer walls as the HDLF were already trying to probe the defenses for their next attack.

His group of Banshee and Merchant Teams were also preparing for the stand. The Varangian Guard group needed to redistribute supplies in the makeshift fortress, but they also had gained a lot of new supplies with this run from the Guild joint group.

There were a few that had been of the notion that it would be an easy drop off of supplies and they would chopper out and be back in Mavala in time for supper. That notion had been dispelled with their entry into the fray here and the massed rebel attacks on their small group. Truth be told if it weren’t for the Guild air support in the form of the SSI gunships and USG VTOLs, they would have been royally and truly fucked.

“Now where the fuck is that J-Gup sarge. I…?”
He was slightly annoyed that the local Jaraguptan transport NCO had blown him off, but also that Sgt. Haas had slipped out mid-brief to go check on something for her team.
As if to answer his question, Sergeant Narapinda was walking by the room at just that moment.
“Sergeant!”

“Yes, Mahoday!” (sir)

“You were supposed to join us.”

“I…”

“Never mind that. Your men can shoot? Did they bring rifles?”

“Eh...maybe a couple, sir? We usually make do with our pistols.”

“We will find some appropriate rifles and ammo from the re-supply. Lieutenant Nkume here, will see to it that your men are distributed between the second, third, and fourth floors as needed.”

While putting them all together in one section would be good for morale, it would also automatically create a weak link as that section would not be up to the standards the operators needed to hold up a good defense.

Nkume, Merchant Team leader, grunted, hiding a little annoyance at being tasked like this. He also realized the issues with fortifying the defense piecemeal with the undertrained local drivers, let alone in one section.

Narapinda hesitated. “Eh…”

“Is there a problem, Sergeant?”

“Some of my men might have found the beer cases…”

“Not the time for that, nor were those for them. Round them up, please.”
Olsen wondered, with so little time, if they had even had time to render themselves inoperable.

“Yes, Mahody.”

Olsen turned to the rest of the team leaders, then Kirves.
“So, I take it our fallback is going to be those tunnels? I’m hesitant to put our people too high up on the floors in case the commies breach the lobby. Our 3 dimensional defense ring will be cut in two. Is there a back stairway that we can fortify so that the upper floors can exfil in case of said breach?”

Kirves shrugged. “Only a fire staircase on the exterior wall, but it faces the rear gate. Not big enough to bring a technical through. But plenty big for MANPAD weaponry. Another alternative is we cut some holes in the higher floors and prop some ladders?”

Olsen sighed.
“Let’s do it. Assuming we have enough ropes and ladders, or makeshift metal ramps, last resort. Just make sure the people you task to that know what they’re doing making the holes and don’t compromise the integrity of the floors. Last thing we need is the floors to start collapsing on us mid-attack.”

Eelin nodded, then prepared to excuse herself from the room, but hung back until they were fully done. Several of the larger dining spaces had already been commandeered and transformed into triage units. The walking wounded weren’t needed on the line…. yet.

Sergeant Haas only breathed a sigh of relief once she’d seen that all of her wounded had made it to the aid station. In the eight years that she had spent contracting, she’d only actually shot at someone twice, and both times they’d run them off without any bloodshed. All things considered? She was lucky that she’d made it through the whole ordeal unscathed.

It didn’t change the fact that she had killed people.

With her squad down four people, she’d decided to give three a chance to rest while she and the other two made themselves useful. Things were quiet for the moment, and her people had already set to restocking their magazines and nabbing any extra goodies that they could. Her belt, where grenades normally rested, was still empty but that was an issue for later. “I’m going to check back in and see where they need us,” she called to her operators. “If we’re going to make a big stand, I’m sure they’ll want every rifle they can get on the line.”

As Sgt. Haas re-entered the small room off the lobby, Olsen glanced at her in mild surprise. He had been sure she was in there the whole time, having glanced at her not too long ago. She must have slipped out when he had his head down pulling up data on his tablet.

The sergeant gave the commanding officer a gentle nod of respect as she stepped in. The woman had been paying attention to the briefing, at least as much as she could while bone deep exhaustion seeped into her veins. Haas offered a salute as her rifle bobbed on her shoulder. “I wanted to doublecheck to see if you needed anything from me. Raven’s a little banged up, but we’re ready.”

The Hawkwickan born Captain nodded and gave a little sigh.
“No. I think we’re done. I’m going to discuss a little more with Ms. Kirves here about the defenses and tunnels. But...the rest of you, get your people squared away, to the medic station, to their defense points, set your shifts. Go easy on the beer...We don’t know when we’re getting more.”

Nkume grunted.
“If the J-Gup drivers haven’t drank it all.”

“Yep, let’s get it secured. Keep comms on. Anyone else got something? No?...”
Olsen scanned Nkume, Davis, Haas, and Kirves one last time.
“Give ‘em hell!”

They broke off while Olsen did as he said he would, following Kirves back towards the tunnels and rear defenses.

RP'd equally with Wandering Argonians, Shalum, Falkasia, and Jaragupta

[The Cardwith Islands]

HDLF Command Bunker
Mehatar, Jaragupta

It had taken some hours for the ISVC command group to get to their destination, having to take several back roads to avoid gendarme and JRA checkpoints. Along the way, they had linked up with other top ISVC personnel, building quite an extended, gapped convoy.

Brigadier Fodenka (He had received word of his promotion through the secret network that all ISVC and HDLF info traveled these days.) had decided to take personal command of the allied forces gathering in Mehatar to finally squash the mercenaries, and the remnants of the JRA and gendarme units that had tried to hold onto the city.

Mehatar was the epicenter of Hamikh culture in Jaragupta, and the largest populated Hamikh city in the Jaraguptan archipelago. That alone made it suspect that the Jaraguptan government hadn’t put more effort into securing the city, including shifting multiple regiments down to deal with the out of control riots that were a common occurrence in the metropolitan area.

Of course, a lot of it could be written off to poor bureaucratic planning on the part of the Royal government. The fact was that it wasn’t planned that they would leave Mehatar, the soft underbelly of the Kingdom, so undermanned in defense. Simply, it was overconfidence that the rebels wouldn’t be able to accomplish so much in so little time, and that the Gauls and mercenaries would come to their rescue.

---

Finally, they reached HDLF lines in the city, not that they were clearly defined, but it became a bit more obvious where the royals’ control ended.

A group of Hamikh rebels were scattered around the neighborhood square, some more alert than others. They wore dirty, torn T-shirts and once white cotton collared shirts missing most of their buttons, or bare skin and just a pair of raggedy shorts. Most were armed with Kalashnikovs, but some had captured rifles. Many had red bolts of cloth or scarves tied around their head or an arm, to signify their dedication to the cause. It’s not like they could be mistaken for properly uniformed JRA soldiers.

Behind the square fountain, JRA and gendarme prisoners were lined up on their knees. Shots rang out as they were executed slowly. One very young man casually leveled an AR at the emotional men, while another, older man read out the charges against them in the name of the Revolution. The Tamar soldiers tried to remain stoic, although some failed and cried for their mothers before a round snuffed them out. Nearby in an alley, a pile of large bodies attested to the fact that this had been ongoing for some time.

Fodenka winced. He’d seen this before in other conflict areas, even back home during the Independence struggle, but never had it amounted to producing anything more than years of vengeful blood seeking. He waved to get attention to it, and one of his junior officers, Tristram, ran to stop them. Prisoners would be extremely valuable. The imperialists would not trade for bodies.

They climbed out of the trucks slowly, cramped from their long journey southwest. Cardwithians, Great Viets, Pan-Asians, Ressians, Yellowsians, Commonwealthers, and some comrades from the Vionnan Red Army, along with others that represented the polyglot, multinational force. No matter their country of origin, they were all dedicated socialists and also top officers and tacticians.

Not only had the ISVC sent the roving Command Staff for Jaragupta - Fodenka’s HQ never stayed in one spot for long - but also some of the infiltrated special operations personnel teams, who would slip in to help finish off the local resistance in the city. There were just some missions that Fodenka felt he couldn’t entrust to their local allies, no matter how well trained some of the HDLF cells were.

As Fodenka unlimbered from the civilian pickup truck he had ridden in for the last half of their journey, he was approached by 2 men, and a woman. They were dark skinned and wore non-descript khakis and mismatched camo fatigues, also carrying satchels and ARs. He recognized them as the Mubatan (MFM) advisor group with the local units.

“Comrade Brigadier Fodenka, it is an honor to be here with you.”

Fodenka’s memory was sharp. As the woman spoke, he recalled her name.
“Junala, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Comrade General. And these are my comrades, Ngule, and Kamal.”

“Yes, I remember you from the boat ride over. What is going on here? Why are you letting them execute prisoners?”

Junala shrugged.
“It’s not that we let them, Comrade General. Just that they don’t seem interested in listening to us. Perhaps your presence can change that.”

“Who is in charge now? Is it still Gusharam?”

Ngule shook his head.
“Gusharam and his rooftop command were wiped out by the mercenary helicopters. Comrade Avadikam is now in charge, the leader from HDLF 206.”


“Is he an able commander?”

The Mubatans all shrugged. Junala answered,
“Of a platoon, surely, but not at the front of taking a whole city. They are quite disorganized right now. If the Royals and their mercenaries were to take advantage of this moment, they could surely land troops and waltz right out with those we have trapped in the Mehatar Grande. If they could marshal more forces than that, they could likely re-take the city. Say what you will about the impulsiveness of Gusharam, he was quite systematic in his direction of the annihilation of the Royalist forces stationed here. We feel that advantage might get squandered now.”

“I see, well, it’s good we’re here to take over th…”

At that moment, as if his ears were burning, Avadikam walked out from one of the buildings that overlooked the plaza.
“Comrade Brigadier Fodenka! I am honored to see you and the rest of our ISVC comrades!”
His eyebrows went up.
“Did you bring all of them here?”

Fodenka smiled. From the looks of Ngule and Junala, this was the HDLF commander they had just been discussing.
“Comrade Avadikam. It is likewise my pleasure to meet you.”

They faced each other and bowed, with Fodenka emitting the traditional phrase: “Sat Shri Akaal.”
He wasn’t a Sikh, but he knew that the Hamikhs appreciated the nod to their culture, nonetheless. Avadikam responded in kind.

Avadikam smiled.
“So...it was your man that just ran in to my command room to stop our trials, Comrade Brigadier?”

“A trial has a jury or tribunal. There’s no trial at the end of a gun. Regardless, I’m not here to debate politics, but yes, I will save us prisoners for the tactical advantage they afford.”

Avadikam waved a hand,
“Fine...I think that your fighters will be a welcome addition to our attack on the hotel, I have just the mi…”

Fodenka held up a finger.
“Shhh. A moment.”

The Hamikh commander frowned, slightly insulted by this latest challenge, but not quite understanding what was going on.

Fodenka continued.
“Do you hear that?”

“The rifle shots?”

“The rifle shots and nothing but rifle shots. Where is the artillery?”

“Comrade General Fodenka, the enemy doesn’t have artillery stationed nearby…”

“Not them. US.”

“We don’t have artillery, Comrade General.”

“Not in the traditional sense, no...But you have mortars, RPGs, MANPADs...hell, you could hurl molotovs and grenades at windows...Is there some strategic purpose to save that hotel?”

At least Avadikam had the sense to not ask which hotel the Brigadier meant.
“The mercenary camp. No, none. We don’t care if it burns.”

Fodenka smiled wider,
“Well, then...Let it burn. We have the rounds. Don’t be stingy. We can continue to resupply you from the nearby caches, then Gahana if need be, and...this battle is too important to spare the heaviest ordnance we can field. That hotel should be under constant barrage. We need to throw everything at it until it can no longer stand on its foundation. Then...when it’s about to collapse, we get the rat mercenaries as they scamper out.”

Avadikam nodded slowly, studying the Cardwithian General.
“So, Brigadier, you traveled all this way to tell me that?”

Fodenka looked annoyed.
“No, Comrade, I traveled this way to take charge. You can work with me, or you can make this much more difficult than it has to be.”

“You have no authority here, Comrade General.”

“On the contrary, our authority comes directly from your leader, the Great Comrade Tarun Ghalujan. We are here at his personal insistence. Let me show you this.”
Fodenka produced a document signed by Ghalujan, giving him such authority.

Avadikam waved it away. He was too proud to admit that he couldn’t read it, even if he had the desire to do so.
“Enough of the chest beating. You want to run the show, be my guest. I will take my men elsewhere and…”

“They are not your men. They aren’t even Comrade Ghalujan’s men. They are their own men. And you will take them no where. But...do I really have to have him fucking standing right here beside me for you to get with the program?”
As Brigadier Fodenka had been speaking, the ISVC advisors had spread out, slinking close to all the HDLF rebels in the plaza area. Two, a Yellowsian and Great Viet operative, had closed in on either side of Avadikam. His head whipped around as he suddenly realized what was happening, then slowly swung back to focus on Fodenka. He didn’t speak.

Fodenka continued,
“That’s right. You can join those kneeling men that were awaiting execution...Or...You can work with me, as your leader has expressed his desire that you do so. I should have them cut you down just for wasting so much of my time. I really do value my time. I didn’t come out here for a joyride, Comrade Avadikam.”

“l...I…”

“Shut up. Go inside, and tell the rest of your people the new plan. Then pack your shit up and get out of my sight. You are demoted. Go back to the 206th.”

---

As the battle in Mehatar had raged, the orders had gone through to the ISVN fleet waiting off Gahana. A large combined sortie had launched from the Great Viet and Cardwithian carriers, joining up in formation as they made great speed south. CF-29s and Viet MiGs and Sukhois gleaming in the glow of the setting sun.

At the right moment, they hooked back North, forming a giant ‘V’ flight route that put them in a direct line for Mehatar. They would need to swat aside the Guild and JRAF aircraft that were on coastal patrols, and the EW point planes would need to shut down the SAMs and AA, but hopefully, they would be done with their work before any other interceptors were launched to interfere. One hotel and two decrepit Falkasian destroyers had a date with destiny.

---

Meanwhile, Fodenka’s part of the assault began. The ISVC advisors had taken teams in close to the hotel, while others continued to put pressure on the remaining holdout isolated squads and platoons of the JRA Cheetah Regiment.

The Mubatans led the mortar teams that opened up with their beginning bracketing shots.

FWOOMP! FWOOMP!

Hamikh RPG teams began to fire off rounds from rooftops, some at the hotel, others at the still hovering SSI gunships and USG VTOL to distract them. The ‘artillery’ barrage had begun.

The 206th and 211th HDLF Battalions circled, forming pincers to close in on the hotel.

One HDLF rebel ran up with a Molotov, but didn’t make it far down the street before being cut down by a mercenary marksman from the hotel. He collapsed and the Molotov cocktail shattered beneath him. His body, immolated for the Revolution, continued to char, creating eerie shadows on the nearby tenements as dusk overtook the battlescape.

---

Goes to Jaragupta and my ISVC Comrades

[Port Ember]

Mavala, Jaragupta

Corey Shaw climbed into his allocated vehicle, a Katla SUV borrowed from Intexa, the logistics wing of the deployed Guild forces, only after running a detailed 'Bumper to Bumper' inspection on it. This was a crucial component of traveling with a vehicle, in order to ensure that no one had tempered with it, and that it would not break down in a shady area whilst traveling. This was especially important since Corey switched vehicles every time he would travel, and he did not know the potential faults of the specific vehicle in use. This was a hassle for sure, but it was done to ensure that potential observers would not start recognising him by the vehicle he would use.

Once he was comfortable inside his vehicle, he placed his CSR-21 Rifle down upon the passenger seat, and placed his black leather briefcase down within the passenger's feet compartment. He continued to loosen his suit jacket's buttons, which allowed him unhindered access to the CSP-21 pistol, nestled underneath the jacket within the shoulder strap.

He removed his encrypted smartphone from his inner jacket pocket, and reread the last message he received from a blocked number. The words on the screen simply read "Route 6 Blue - Clear". This message was sent from one of Corey's contacts within the City, a so-called "Gray Man". Myrmidon always employed "off the books" employees, whom they never disclosed to their employers, whose job it was to lay low in the Area of Operations, and keep eyes on routes which the contractors would use, ensuring that their journey was devoid of any unnecessary drama. Corey would also use a different route every time he traveled, and thus it was given nicknames, in case any success was gained in monitoring his electronic communications. These nicknames would change every time he had used a route, for an added layer of security and paranoia.

Lastly, he ensured that the watch attached to his right wrist was serviceable, as this was his last line of defence. This watch contained a tracker chip, which transmitted his live location towards his team members back within the Palace, in case he would pick up drama en route.
Fortunately for Corey, his drive down into the Mavala's city center was uneventful, compliments of his Gray Man performing a competent job this time.

Upon arriving at the familiar Guild HQ in the city centre, he waved his badge over a scanner and submitted to a screen from a USGSC and SSI contractor, then parked his vehicle in the underground garage where directed. The garage was part of the reason the Guild had picked the building, instead of an adjacent outdoor parking lot open to rockets, mortars and sniper rounds from neighboring upper floors that might fall into enemy hands. Corey ensured that he took his briefcase along, but left his trusty rifle within the vehicle. His sidearm would do just fine within the safety of the HQ.
Colonel Laurent Cogant had arrived at the Guild HQ just an hour before Shaw, via Mahingra. Much as he was warned again and again by both his opsec people and the Intexa intel and security officers that it was extremely risky for him to be out and about, as juicy a target as he presented, he felt compelled to do it every so often.

It was never at the same time of day. He wore a NCO Jaraguptan Royal Army uniform, wearing Ray Bans over his distinctive eye patch. He would bring along one of the JRA liaison soldiers he had learned to trust - a Corporal Patel. He would have Patel drive to Panther Forward Air Base, as well as a few other installations, both Guild and local military and gendarmerie. He would stop sometimes to question a soldier or junior officer, or he would silently observe, having Patel drive him around to different points around the installation and perimeters.

Each adventure out, he would come back steely faced, jaw working, but no words forming.
He was more and more convinced every day that things were going to go upside down and soon, even here in the capital, where the client assumed they were safe. Because of his talks with Corey Shaw, he was very certain that if the HDLF didn’t start an assault on the capital, the Rajah’s own military would be happy to do that themselves, to install their military junta.

Major ‘Iggy’ sighed as Cogant returned from his latest venture.
"Sir, I wish you would at least bring extra armed escorts with you, maybe following discreetly behind in another Mahingra."

"Nonsense! We've been over this. That would draw more attention and invite fire."

"Well, then...at least call ahead to each facility so they could have a security team ready, Sir."

Merlin shook his head.
"Major, that would also draw attention, mapping out his route to the HDLF."

“Am I the only one concerned about security then, dammit!?”

Cogant smiled,
“No. I am too. That’s why I keep doing these inspections. Our security out there is lousy, I’m telling you.”

“I meant your personal security, Colonel. Of course you knew that and were just making a funny.”

“I really thought Poles had a sense of humor.” The Neu Engollian mercenary colonel shook his head and clucked his tongue in mock shame.

“Not like yours. Can we be serious for a moment, Sir?”

Cogant’s smile dropped as he turned to his XO.
“Major, I am being very serious here. This city is ready to burst. Part of that is on the client local units and the Royal Guard, but part of it is also on...you.”

Major Purzynski held in his first reaction
“I have mentioned this, Colonel, to our liaison client units. Several times. There is only so much I can do.”

“Well, I have ideas, but we’re going to get some more input on this first...from someone with an inside scoop...Corey Shaw. I want you to sit in on this one, Iggy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cogant gathered up his notebook that he had set down on his desk, as well as a small GXT tablet that he also took notes on, and used to pull up resources and reports. The Intexa, and by extension the USGSC as a whole, tried to avoid using too much actual hard copy paper reports, and a lot of it was digitally encrypted files.

He led the way as they headed down the corridor and down one floor, passing by several Intexa, and other Guild staffers from the USG and their subcontractor partners. Conspicuously absent were any Varangian Guard personnel who were all in Mehatar. That situation was rapidly taking the forefront. He brought it up to the Major as they rode the elevator down.
“What have you heard from Mehatar?”

“I...was definitely hoping that we could talk about that soonest. They are in full blown riot down there. The HDLF isn’t being sparing with their manpower, despite the amount of air and artillery support we have thrown at them. This is beyond hit and run attacks. They’re not running anymore. They’re standing and fighting...right in the heart of the city.
We dropped in that Guild relief team that went in to hook up with the VG garrison there. Last word is they made it, but they took a bloody thrashing in the process. We lost a VTOL gunship and all crew.”

They all involuntarily bowed their heads. Merlin continued to remain silent through the discussion.

“Where is the local JRA regiment? What was it...Cheetah?”

“Yes, sir. The Cheetah Regiment. They are getting shredded. Same with the gendarme platoons split from the parent Cobra Battalion. We have had no contact with them. Things are hitting critical there.”

“Alright. Next up I want to talk to the Marshal. He’s got units to spare. Set up a vid meeting. We need to bolster the city. That will be the ISVC’s backdoor in, if anywhere, if we lose that reeking urban cesspool. Call in whatever additional air support they need. Aren’t those VG warships still out there in the Bay?”

“Yes, sir. But there’s not many targets they can hit without a lot of civilian casualties.”

“Right. Find those targets that they can hit.” Nothing he’d heard about the Varangian Guard made them seem like they cared about collateral damage.

They stepped off the elevator and Iggy hung back to get on the encrypted GXP satellite phone, talking to the ops center upstairs. He also called the Jaraguptan Royal Command Staff HQ to set up the video chat meeting.

Cogant stepped through the door that a junior officer adjutant held for him and into the conference room.
“Mr. Shaw, thank you for waiting. Please sit.” The Colonel took a seat with Merlin, the Intexa intel chief, taking a seat two chairs over. “Major Purzynski will be joining us in a moment. He’s tending to another clusterfuck.”
He put his notebook and tablet in front of him and laced his fingers in an almost prayer like pose.

Corey nodded after exchanging verbal greetings with the two men, and waited for the Colonel to be seated fully, before he took his allocated seat himself, placing his briefcase down beside him, tucking it slightly underneath the wooden conference table. Corey looked straight into Cogant's one eye as he started speaking, "Colonel, should I wait for Major… Poerrzienskie before I commence my briefing?" Corey struggled with the pronunciation of the Major's surname, and he was sure that he had butchered it. A native Port Emberian did not have the opportunity to interact with Eastern Europeans often, after all.

Cogant paused,
“Well...Major Ignacy Purzynski...is here.” The appearance of the Polish USG officer negated their need to debate the topic further.

Iggy stepped through the door and slid into a seat, nodding.
“My apologies. Mr. Shaw, please continue.”

Corey nodded as he cleared his throat politely. Once he was satisfied that the Major had taken his seat completely, he responded finally, "Good morning Gentlemen. Before I go jumping into the deep end of my fresh update, I wish to confirm that all of us seated here are aware of my previous report? And am I safe to presume that the room is safe from any electronic ears?"

Cogant gave a side glance to Major Purzynski.

Iggy Purzynski put his hands up, in the manner he used to reassure clients.
“Mr. Shaw, of course. There are unvetted officers of our client who do have access to this floor, if not this particular room. So...we do sweeps. Last bug sweep would have been…” He looked at his watch, “...about an hour ago. Does that satisfy your security concerns?”

Corey nodded softly once more as he responded, "All good Major, thank you. No harm done by asking as the saying goes… Anyway, Gentlemen, as you are all aware, the reason for my request to see you all, is due to the fact that I have received intel a while back, that General Halaganda, is actively planning and organising a coup attempt. The only real update that I can bring to you today unfortunately, is the news that the coup mobilisation is moving forward rapidly, and is growing in strength with every passing second. It is still impossible to determine how many boots will choose which side when things go loud, but there are serious concerns… For example, rumour has it that there has been much talk originating from the military's senior officers, junior leaders and boots on the ground. The men are angry, frustrated and losing faith in the government and her allies. They see the loss of Gahana as a sign of rot and weakness, and the fact that nothing visible is being done about it, is killing morale. It would appear that the good General is planning to play a well planned PR card - spinning the narrative in a direction where the government and the Guild is corrupting or holding captive the Rajah, thus seizing power will be seen as the patriotic thing to do."

The USGSC men in the room cleared their throats, giving each other glances.
Colonel Cogant then looked straight ahead at the center of the table, poking at his lips and chin with his steepled hands, clearly thinking hard. Merlin squirmed slightly like he had an itchy rear, and Major Iggy kept glancing between the two. There were several beats of uncomfortable silence as this went on. Finally, Colonel Cogant put his hands ever so gingerly face down on the table and looked directly at Corey Shaw.
“Thank you for that, Mr. Shaw. Great work. It does tend to line up with my observances and other intel…” He seemed to change tone.
“Did you know that Pierre Galien was a friend of mine?”

Major Iggy Purzynski immediately responded,
“Colonel Pierre Galien was a friend of mine.”

Merlin responded simply,
“He was a great man.”

Cogant continued, aware that they had the Port Emberian’s attention.
“You see Mr. Shaw, there are 3 regiments in the USG Regiments, or Corporation, if you will. The Uli and Schwyz Regiments were named for the cantons in Neu Engollon, like states, that the first men of the Uli-Schwyz Regiments were recruited from half a millenia ago. The third...was named for an actual man, and very recently enough, just 6 years ago. It was a posthumous honor. Pierre Galien was assigned by General Tell to be in charge of our people in Hutanjia. The situation was extremely similar to the one we are in now, but we had no foreknowledge of the plot at that time. Merlin’s predecessors in the Intexa intel wing had, to be quite honest, shit the bed...or dropped the ball, if you will, on uncovering the nastiness that was Milton ‘The Mongoose’ Atave.”

Merlin looked a tiny bit irritated, even though it didn’t reflect on him, as it was before his time with the USG. He had actually been in Hutanjia at the time, though, doing military intel while serving in the 24th Lancers of the New Edomite Army, who also backed the Hutanjian government.

Cogant went on,
“They missed some flags that the Kingdom of Hutanjia Security, or KHS - The island Kingdom’s royal secret security force, were plotting to take over and depose the royal family right in the midst of their civil war…” He let that linger for the obvious similarity to the Jaraguptan Royal Guard.
“They too believed that the weakness shown by the King, the defeats the nation had suffered, would be corrected if they took over the war effort, and they had some of the regular Hutanjian units convinced of that. Colonel Galien was shot down right in the Palace underground operations center as he fought off the coup plotters. They didn’t succeed, ultimately, but they wiped out the King and Queen and a good part of the government in the process and caused a complete clusterfuck that the enemy took advantage of.” Cogant smiled. “Listen to us - blathering on about the war like a bunch of veteran’s home codgers. But I have a point to all this...

Since that time, we have all vowed to never let that happen again. That brings us to now. It’s like the Jaraguptan Royal Guard is using the Hutanjian coup as a blueprint. This time, we know the hammer blow is inbound...And we have to strike first. Halaganda has to go down, and his cronies with him.

We have an idea, but I would like your confirmation through your source, about the names of the other plotters. We need to move on them and soon. Obviously, just detaining them as we can’t prove anything concrete right now. Then we figure out the charges and the evidence later. The Rajah and his people are on board with that, and they’ll task the gendarmes to follow suit with the arrests, assuming Chowdhury, [General Vineet Chowdhury was The National Gendarmerie commander] isn’t part of all this...

You see, Mr. Shaw...If we wait, we are split three ways as to what to do with our...modest reinforcements, both Guild and client. Send them to the east coast to help the Gauls repel the impending ISVC invasion; send them south to Mehatar, where the city is under siege by the HDLF and might also just get hit by the ISVC as a weak point; or...keep them here in the capital to ward off this coup. Or maybe the fourth option: meagerly parse them out between all three so that each undermanned force can be slaughtered in a different environment.

I want this coup dealt with, so that we can then throw our weight on Mehatar, then, assuming the Gauls still hold the east coast, we can help them. We need to control the timetable, not these traitors and commies, and I’m really fucking tired of us having to just react, instead of act. You get me, Mr. Shaw?”

Corey's lips formed a discreet smile, despite the grim nature of the conversation. Despite the fact that the situation was devolving into chaos all around him, and despite the fact that his life was in constant danger - and would become worse rapidly as time elapses - Corey could not help but smile. The rush is what he lived for. It's what kept his heart pumping contentedly. The fact that his superiors were competent lads with balls, was another contributing factor to his smile.

Without skipping a beat, Corey responded, "The situation which occured in Hutanjia was actually a mandatory case study as part of this contract preparation Colonel, so I am well aware of the similarities, which is alarming, to say the least." Despite the obvious sorrow these men felt for the loss of their previous boss, Corey was assured that their passion for his memory would help him and his lads stay alive. Sorrow is a very powerful motivator.

Pausing the conversation, Shaw bent forward whilst remaining seated, retrieving his briefcase which he had placed besides him earlier. The black leather office briefcase was swiftly placed on top of the neat desk, and the two combination locks clicked open simultaneously soon after. Corey retrieved a stack of thin files from inside it, all covered in various shades of black leather. Shaw slided the stack of files over the table, allowing it to come to rest in front of the Colonel.

Finally Corey continued speaking, "In front of you Colonel, is a stack of files per individual suspected to be an actor in the upcoming drama. You will have to excuse the sparseness of the intel in the files, as we had to collect what we could in a very short timespan, without the support of dedicated spooks. The files contain basic info, for example basic particulars, ID photos, post particulars, family ties, known addresses and reasons why we believe that they are actors. Due to the reasons I have just mentioned, some files are more detailed than others…

You will notice that various shades of black leather have been used as covers… This acts as a colour code on how strongly intel suggests that this individual is indeed an actor. The darker the shade, the more we believe the player is involved. For example, those two pitch black files on top are that of General Halaganda and General Keshav Gayarvad…"

“I understand. It’s a clever system. I will look at them in a moment. We need to cut to the chase here. We have a plan to ground the JRAF. Key question: is there any indication at all that Marshal Balakrishnan is part of this plot? What about the other Generals of the JR Army Regiments? I need to know the loyal JRA regiments we can trust. If the whole damn J-Gup Royal military is against the Rajah, then we are fuh-ucked. I’m asking you directly right now, Corey.”

Corey shook his head before he replied, "Colonel, I have not a clue on those questions. The only folk I know to be players are those in the files, with the other 'whales' remaining massive question marks. I have been pushing my source on this issue, but to no avail. It would appear that paranoia and distrust is running very deep within the Army ranks. At this moment, every breath my source takes is a threat to his life due to this. Let me level with you boss, I don't think I will be able to obtain all the answers you seek any time soon."

While Cogant looked resigned, sinking back in his chair, Merlin looked highly annoyed. The Intexa head spook raised his voice,
“How much do you really trust this source? What if he’s intentionally misleading you and he’s with the coup, Mr. Shaw? How can you possibly vet him properly? I think you’re being played here. You can’t confirm any of the top plotters? Bullshit!”

The Colonel would normally intercede on behalf of the younger Shaw, and this accusatory line from Merlin was quite unfair, but Laurent was very curious as to Shaw’s response, so he kept his mouth shut, glancing over to the Port Emberian contractor.

Corey cocked a single eyebrow as he stared Merlin down, not being slightly impressed with this insulting behaviour. A soft smile formed on his lips no less as he responded, ensuring that his tone remained calm as he focused on not raising his voice in turn,
"Well Mister Merlin, I will be the first to admit that I am not overly qualified in the subtle art of obtaining and vetting moles within the enemy's ranks. You see, Mister Merlin, in a perfect world, I would not have to worry about this, because the people employed to actually obtain and vet moles, would be doing their jobs competently, allowing me to focus on the daggers on the outside of the gates, and thus not worry about the daggers behind my back, behind closed gates. Now… it would appear that we are not living in a perfect world, since there are zero competent folk playing their part in keeping my back dagger free. So, Mister Merlin, if you ever feel you are ready to assume the role which is expected from you, let me know, and I will gladly step aside."

"As for my source itself - Aye, he is not vetted by means of any new tech psychology mumble jumble, but I know how to read fear in a human being, Mister Merlin. Fear is a very powerful motivator. And this man fears for his life, and he fears for the lives of his family, and I have other… contingencies in place to ensure that he remains an honest man. Lastly, don't overstretch the facts here. Without my source, you would still consider the coup a mere rumour, and you would certainly not have known about the Air Marshal. Also, take a look at those files. The players inside them might not be Generals, but they are a list of senior tactical commanders, with serious duties, and serious influence. Now, if I were personally running this coup, I would not feed false info to my enemy which would endanger such high priority targets."

Merlin smiled, as if he had been ready for this game of poke the bear.
“Psychology mumble jumble? No, it’s just good old fashioned tradecraft and HUMINT gathering. I’m very good at my job, Mr. Shaw. I have been running the intel for the Guild on this island kingdom from the get go. We have two insurgent groups here and the ISVC off shore. They are very good at what they do with their saboteur/spy groups, and this insurgency has been going on long before we got here. They were pretty well embedded. Keeps me damn well busy to not have to micromanage your group...

Secondly, my people were pulled from the Palace to fill in gaps elsewhere so that your people could take over, pretty soon after we got here.” This was partially true. Merlin didn’t have Intexa operatives in the Palace, although he still had a couple key informants, but not close to the Royal Guard, unfortunately. They were close to the Rajah himself.
“...Are you telling me that you normally walk into a job blind and don’t have your people do intel assessments? That really how Myrmidon, a supposedly world class Guild company, operates now? ‘Hey, nobody told me we might get shot at by the wrong side!? Mommy help!’...Yeah, don’t put that on Intexa...”

Cogant slapped his hands on the table.
“Enough! Speaking of sides, we’re all on the same one, last I checked. You can measure dicks later. We have what we have here, so this is what we will work with. What we don’t have is time. Corey, try to get me more names. Push this source. I have ideas, you have ideas. I want more confirmation so we don’t ruffle too many feathers. We need some of these Jaraguptan Generals to keep shooting at the real bad guys. In the meantime, we’re going to move to defang this beast. Starting with the Air Force honcho. When we move, you will start to feel some pressure inside the Palace. Be prepared.”
He turned slightly.
“Merlin, don’t think your shits don’t stink. Get over yourself. Look these files over that Mr. Shaw brought. We need leverage on one of these guys. The most likely to crack. All we need is one to give up the rest. They don’t seem very compartmentalized to me. Didn’t you say they were having big plotting meetings, last we talked, Corey?”

Corey Shaw bit down upon his tongue, as his temper flared rapidly due to Merlin's tone. He was suddenly in the mood of ripping his arm off and slapping him in the face with the bloodied side. But alas, much more than mere pride was at stake, and thus he swallowed his anger. He turned to face the Colonel as he responded,
"Aye Sir, there was one big one when the Coup was announced, but after this, nothing was held again to this scale. It's mostly the General and the Air Marshal meeting these days."

Cogant rubbed at the eyepatch, a not uncommon nervous tick of his.
“I see. Well...I think that we can squeeze one or more of these mid ranked officers in the stack to roll over on the others, and just keep the dominoes falling. The key is to isolate them so they can’t talk to anyone, during a logical extended time they would be away from communications. In that time, we have to be ready to roll if the word gets out. We have a plan to get some QRF over to the Palace. Also to lock down any aircraft heading the wrong way.

To be clear on this, to bring it back out to the big picture...Our client is your client. The Rajah. Not the Jaraguptan military or government that serve under him, but the Rajah, himself. With him gone, we might as well tear up that contract.

Word from General Dalier is vague, but they’re not going to take it lying down, either. The Gauls might pack it up and go home, or they will just lock down their area and consider the Jaraguptan military a hostile power at that point and stop assuming any cooperation. I think the latter. The whole point of their being here is they don’t want to see another Wishtonian nation fall to the communists. If Jaragupta collapses in on itself, the Cards and the ISVC are going to roll right in and make that happen. With the Gauls having a good part of the island on lockdown, they won’t let that happen.”

Corey, now much calmer than before, nodded in response. "Understood Colonel, and thank you for the update. Now, as we are right on subject, I wish to remind the Colonel that me and the lads will be as involved as it can be to help stop the Coup, as well as be involved with our trigger fingers should that actual day arrive, BUT, my top priority is, as you say, the Rajah. Thus, getting him out whole will be our main task, and not winning the firefight.”

Cogant’s hands lifted up from the table making a slow wave.
“No, I know. I get that. We’re spread thin, while you’re spread very thin. I’m going to see what we can do. Probably move some USG troops in to take them on. Then Bray might be able to shift some of his Blackwood boys over to cover our gaps.

I’m still trying to figure out who the loyal JRA units will be. If none...well, then we’re fucked. But that just can’t be the case.
I mean it, Shaw. I want to find the weaselly fucker that will roll on his fellow top Royal Guard officers and other military top dogs. I want to strike first, not just react to them. If we can round them up with minimal bloodshed, that would be ideal. While your people corral the Rajah and get him underground, we will take down Halaganda...but again...we have to have the element of surprise or blood will fly. Anyway, that’s not the only reason you’re here today.”

Shaw nodded in agreement,
"We are completely of one mind in this matter, Sir. I will make sure the Rajah is out on some or other picnic on the day of you grabbing the General. Let me know if you need additional assist - for example grabbing the intel asset. Anyway, what else do you require from me, Sir?"

“Hang tight a minute.” He grabbed his 2 way radio and flipped it to a certain channel.
“Are we ready, Jimmy?”

“Roger that. Both are on the line, Colonel.”

“Excellent.”
Cogant turned around, and toggled on a plasma wall monitor. There was a remote somewhere, but he couldn’t be bothered to find it.

---

Two faces on the video conference split screen showed. General Pieter van Aardel, and Colonel Danny Archer, the leaders of USGSC, and Myrmidon, respectively. Both looked rather weary, as they were up at odd hours in their own time zones.

It was the middle of the night for sure on the USG base island in Teremara, but General Van Aardel was used to getting up for such contract meetings. It was part of the business. He hadn’t bothered to head into the Command Center, however, and was transmitting from his home office in Campobello. He sipped at a mug of some water, instead of any stronger caffeinated beverage, as he had to try to get back to sleep and be up at dawn there on the Island.

“Sirs! Welcome to your window into Jaragupta! Or J-Goop as we call it here.”
Cogant turned back to Shaw.
“Mr. Shaw, your boss…and mine. We are looking to expand the contract and bring in more Myrmidon people, but not protection detail. I think they wanted a bit of your opinion on the matter…”

Van Aardel stifled a yawn as he said. “Mornin’. It’s good to finally put eyes to a face, Mr. Shaw. I’ve heard a lot about you. Also good to see you, again Colonels Archer and Cogant.”

Colonel (Ret) Danny Archer nodded softly and mumbled a soft "Mornings" as a reply, with dark circles clearly visible underneath his eye banks, making it clear that he woke up only recently. He could be seen on screen nursing a cup of something hot, as steam could be seen escaping the inside.

Corey smiled softly when he saw the face of his employer, Colonel Danny Archer - who he considered to be a friend and mentor, having served under him, back during his military career.
"Good morning Sirs! Always a pleasure to see you Colonel, and the honor is mine General. I hope you have not heard too much vad things! Alas, to answer your questions, I fear that I am not really in the position where I may offer any legitimate advice relating to the situation outside of the Palace… However, I will certify that whilst my team has the Palace and the Rajah wrapped in a secure net, the additional threat posed by the potential coup, does place us in a scenario where we are outgunned on a scale of 100 to 1. I say this again Sirs, I cannot provide legitimate advice on the question posed, but extra boots whom we can trust can't hurt…"

“Kak. 100 to 1. That’s quite a figure.” From General Van Aardel.

Cogant frowned. “I think he means within the Palace, General.”

The USG General continued,
“Mr. Shaw, what’s happening in the Palace will effect outside the Palace. This coup that we’ve been hearing about, do you think that their timetable is calculated...or more urgent?”

Shaw nodded, "That figure is indeed hypothetical, relating to my lads versus the potential plotters, at the Palace alone.
General, as with everything in life, nothing can be cast in stone, so please remember that when you hear my reply. The facts on the ground indicate that the coup planning has been in motion for quite a period now, so it tells me that it will be a well planned, calculated operation. However, I have noticed much more frequent meetings between the main plotters, which increases the risk of being detected, telling me that its urgency is increasing by the day."

“I see. Kak. Well, Danny…” Van Aardel shifted his attention as he addressed his counterpart at Myrmidon, “...I was hoping to get more of your warfighting trained contractors here before this coup takes place, but we might be in ons moer in as they say in my home country. In other words, ‘We are fokked’. Timing is everything right now, obviously. Just to be clear for everyone, although I’ve discussed this with Colonels Archer and Cogant...It’s more expedient to utilize the current contract, which allows for Myrmidon, our sub-contractor, to bring in as many personnel as they feel they need to complete the job, and tack on the fees later, versus drawing up a whole new contract with the Royal Government which will take more time with the lawyers than we seem to have at the moment. That’s why we need as up-to-date of an assessment as possible.”

Colonel Archer took a deep sip from the hot contents of his mug before responding,
"Agreed General. My Suits already took a look at the contract and our options relating to it. My Company's Standard Operating Procedures relating to contractual commitments demands an upfront payment before I can put boots on the ground, but this, as you mentioned, demands time which we simply do not have. However, due to our status of being subcontracted by the Guild, and supported by the strong bond and understanding which exists between us and the Guild at large, we can waive that clause. We can put additional boots on the ground as soon as you need them, Sir. How many boots, and where exactly do you require them, Sir?"

The General nodded,
“I appreciate that. I would hope that the current sub-contracting agreements would suffice, if not specifying warfighting over personal protection points in that contract. What that means to the Jaraguptan government is another matter, but there’s too many that would have eyes on any adjustments to that contract that are also trying to bring that government down, or radically change it, in any case. So, it’s better that we bring them in first, then retroactively adjust the contract. As to where…Lo?”

Colonel Cogant responded to his nick, short for Laurent.
“I would say the south. Mehatar and Suraksha. I’m going to be moving any of my spare troops back to the capital to shut down this coup. I want to make sure we are proactive on it. General Dalier insists the Gauls can fill the gaps on the East coast. Once we get that under control, with new Myrmidon help, we can take back Mehatar and quell the shit in Suraksha.”

Colonel Archer nodded upon the response, seemingly pleased with what he heard. "That works for me. General, with your permission, I can deploy the newly formed 1 Myrmidon Commando Regiment in its entirety by week's end. Furthermore, and I know I am preaching to the choir here, but I need to reiterate that standard practices must prevail, for example, I must insist that tactical control of my forces remains in Myrmidon hands, whilst strategic control will be signed over to Colonel Cogant."

Van Aardel tented his hands.
“I believe that was the force size we were looking for. Colonel Cogant?”

“Yes. In theory that should work. It’s how we have operated with Blackwood, VG, SSI, and Myrmidon so far...However, there are instances where certain missions need a central command, say such as the combined Guild units in Mehatar, or some of the ones inserting into Gahana, where it’s multi-company personnel in a small squad or platoon level. Doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.”

“Colonel Archer? Is that acceptable, as long as your people are returned to your command upon mission completion?”

Colonel Archer nodded once more, before he quickly stole another sip from the steaming beverage within the mug upon his desk.
"Of course, Sirs, the critical importance of central command in specific scenarios is not lost on me or my senior commanders. You will not find any opposition from my lads, as we want the same objectives reached at day's end. Last thing, General, I do wish you could send me one of your Suits to the Republic before we ship, in order to brief my top leadership with all the gritty details, relating to the Situational Overview, ROE's and Lessons Learned. I firmly believe that a well informed soldier fights better at the end of the day. To that end, in the name of reciprocation, I will forward you an electronic copy of my forces structure, equipment, and vulnerabilities, Colonel."

Cogant smiled.
“I look forward to it, Colonel.”

The USGSC General added a reply,
“I will send you a team led by Graciela Nacimiento, she’s the Legal Director for the Intexa, but she took point on establishing this contract and she should still be up to date on its progress. Colonel Cogant, I want you to send Major Purzynski back to join the team, as well. I think you can find some capable officers to fill in for him, and I’d rather keep you and Dekker Bray there, for obvious reasons. Are we all set? Anything else to add?”

“I’m satisfied, General.” Cogant was quick to reply.

Colonel Archer flashed a warm smile, "Well then sounds that we are all set. I'm available at all times if you need to contact me, from now ‘til contract's end. Now General, Colonel, Mister Shaw, if you would please excuse me, I have a few thousand lads to prepare for war. To your health & wealth gentlemen."

General Pieter Van Aardel held up his mug, water, but it would do.
“To you! To peace and security!”

“Peace and security!”

The screens went blank. Colonel Cogant, Mr. Shaw, and Major Purzynski all shook hands and gathered up their stuff in the conference room. Merlin noticeably hung back from any closing farewells, at first.
Then the diminutive Merlin cornered Shaw as Cogant and the Major were walking out.

The intel officer stuck out his hand.
“No hard feelings, Mr. Shaw. We have to know we’re on the same page and not letting anything slip through the cracks. I’m sure you understand.”

Corey looked down to Merlin's extended hand while he spoke, not moving a muscle whilst listening. Once Merlin finished speaking, Corey finally extended his hand as well, taking up the offer of the shake, responding,
"Mister Merlin, I have no doubt that we are on the same side, each just doing their jobs, whether it means stepping on toes or not. But Mister Merlin, pushing hard to get the job done does not need to border on clear and personal disrespect. So, as we are on the same side, allow me to remind you humbly, that despite the reputation for a Port Emberian's jolly nature and friendliness, we lot also have a terrible reputation for not taking kindly to personal disrespect. Have a wonderful day, Mister Merlin."

Merlin broke free from the handshake grip and broke from Shaw’s gaze at the same time. He wasn’t going to offer any more than what he’d said, and he wasn’t going to respond to the rebuke. His mind was already churning that he’d offered contrition and been slapped away, as he spun around and strutted out the door.

---

Due credit goes to USG Security Corporation

[The Cardwith Islands]

Outside the
Mehatar Grande

With the arrival of the ISVC leadership under Colonel Fodenka, it had galvanized the remaining HDLF units to once again push the attack on the mercenary garrison, spearheaded by the 206th and 211th Battalions.

Against orders, several of the rebels continued to rush up to the old hotel hoping to find a vulnerable opening, only to fall to marksman fire from the upper floors. Then, the HDLF and ISVC sniper teams would counter, but mostly they just kept down the heads of the defenders with little success in actually taking out targets.

A Mubatan advisor named Nyamalba watched from an upper floor of one of the tenement buildings. He spoke to his comrade, a Cardwithian named Alistair. He shook his head as he saw another HDLF rebel’s head explode from a sniper round. The body slumped over an ornamental wall around the hotel perimeter.
“Are they just that fucking stupid?! Who is ordering them out there into the open?!”

“No one. They’re doing it on their own. They really think they can be the one man hero and charge into the hotel. Like there’s an open door if they can just find it.”

“Brave, but dumber than a crate of bricks. Maybe we should try to radio to those unit commanders and have them stop that.”

Alistair laughed with little humor.
“Those men are isolated in little pockets all over the area. I doubt many of them are near a radio, or listening in to orders at this point if they do have one. Look at the bright side...if enough bodies stack up, we can use it as a ramp to run right up to the upper floors and charge in.”

Mortar and RPG fire resumed from the Marxist squads. It was much more effective in taking out some of the defenders and continuing to weaken the building, which was made to entertain foreign tourists, not withstand artillery fire. The Guild artillery, from the VG ships in the bay, and called in from nearby Blackwood support teams closing in on the city, were able to take out some of the teams, mostly HDLF. The ISVC advisor led teams were trained to pack up after three rounds and move locations, so only two of them got hit by counter-battery fire...So far.

The mercenary air support in the form of two helo and one VTOL gunships had initially contributed to working on suppressing the HDLF mortar teams, but they had then banked off and flown off high and away back to the nearest forward air base, called Bengal by the Guild contract force. Obviously they had reached their fuel limits in the hours they had hovered and hammered away. More would likely be on the way in minutes, but in the meantime, the gap from being assaulted from the air was welcome.

Speaking of actual artillery, the HDLF began to tow some small pieces closer to the hotel that were captured from the decimated JRA units. Within minutes, they would unleash onto the hotel as well, likely completing the job the mortars had started.

---

HDLF Command Bunker
Mehatar, Jaragupta

“Colonel, they are returning fire on our artillery teams. We’re losing some of them.”
A junior Ressian officer who had been by the radio called out.

Fodenka's face scrunched up in concentration.
“It’s those damn ships in the bay. The mercenary ships. We need to get rid of them somehow!”

“Yes, Comrade Colonel!”

“Have you had any success in reaching ISVC Command in Gahana?”

“Not yet, sir, all channels are still blocked.”

Fodenka thought for a moment.
“Call off the mortar and RPG teams. We need to keep the rest in reserve. We’ll keep the cordon around that hotel and see if they try to break out then let them have it.”
Once the captured artillery was in place, it wouldn’t take long to topple the old building.

A Viet Major saluted, being the nearest officer, and also one of the seconds in command.
“Yes, Comrade Colonel!”

---

Over The Wishton Sea
South of Jaragupta

Six flights had taken off from around the newly proclaimed People’s Republic of Gahana. Two of them originated from the Cardwithian carrier Hermes Vengavu, while two more had lifted from the Great Viet carrier HQ-MHT-32. They were joined by an additional two flights taking off from Gahana City, one was a group of Yellowsian MiG-29YG fighter/bombers from the 177th Multirole Squadron of the People’s Red Air Force of YSR, while an additional flight of Su-27s from the 9th Volunteer Squadron of the 22nd Fatimanic Air Corps made up the final aircraft in the armada that had raced south over the sea, to hook back north at the 40km mark, forming a large 'V'.

The Cardwithian and Great Viet fighters had already had a lot of experience in the battle zone, having tangled with the Gaulic naval air component upon first arrival; and subsequent dog fights with more Gaulic, JRAF (Jaraguptan Royal Air Force) and Guild support aircraft and interceptors over the channel that separated Gahana from mainland Jaragupta over the last few weeks.

The numbers had been whittled down of the first ISVCAF squadrons, but fresh pilots and aircraft had been rushed in to bolster their numbers from Markville, the large joint ISVC staging base on North Cardwith Island. The squadrons based at Relu and Gahana City were rotated out on a fairly regular basis now to keep the pilots fresh, and also to allow some of the ISVC members to give experience to their top AF squadrons in real combat. Markville, North Cardwith saw a plane touch down every few minutes 24 hours of every day. Even the refueling support aircraft were getting as much air time as some of the multi-role fighters.

The air war over Jaragupta was constant, even if the land forces of the HDLF and ISVC versus the Jaraguptans and their Gaulic allies and mercenaries were at a bit of a stalemate. Both sides tried to push the edge, not just with air raids from manned fighters, but also drones, and missile attacks. Now that both sides had done better to fortify their air defenses facing each other in the channel, most of these attacks were swatted away harmlessly, minus the loss of aircraft and missiles. There was a certain parity in the air, which was deadly for the pilots on both sides of the channel, as no one knew when their ticket was up. The veterans who had lasted this long were some of the quicker, hardened pilots, not just in their respective air and naval air forces, but in all of the ISVC, and possibly currently operating anywhere in Wishtonia.

Captain Anderson Elitungu flew one of the CF-29-Ns of Panther Flight, from the carrier Vengavu. He was one of the commanders over the whole raid group and had given them constant updates as they sped south, then as they hooked back north in the giant ‘V’ course that put them in line for Mehatar.

20km out from their target, they went radio silent, as per their mission brief. They knew better than to arrogantly think that the royalist enemy couldn't intercept their transmissions. Every pilot knew their task and targets. Elitungu was used to flying with the Great Viet pilots, whom he greatly respected, but hadn’t yet worked with the YSR or Fatiman squadrons as of yet. He was assured of their professionalism during interactions post-briefing.

His group, Hammer, were to hit the Falkasian mercenary destroyers out in the bay. The Yellowsian MiG fighter bombers would strike at the vintage boats, while his flight tore through the air defenses surrounding Mehatar Bay. The other bomber group, Sickle, were to strike the Mehatar Grande, which was apparently a famous landmark in the southern city. Most of Sickle group consisted of Phi Hổ and Cá Kiếm flights, their Great Viet comrades. The remaining flights would also be tasked with keeping off the enemy air patrols that would be vectored onto them, while Card, YSR, and Viet EW planes assigned to the raid jammed radars and missile tracking and targeting systems.

---

Previous to Launch of the Attack on Mehatar
On the HQ-MHT-32 Aircraft Carrier

The mass of ground crews filled the carrier’s flight deck as they prepared the birds for the upcoming strike. Meanwhile the pilots themselves were sitting in the meeting room for the last briefing.
“Alright, people. Let's review the plan again.” Captain Trần Văn Thoại, the flight leader of Cá Kiếm and the veteran of the conflict, pointed on the map: “We will take off and rendezvous with the other flights south of the islands, here, then move back north, towards the fighting zone. Our mission is providing air cover for the bombing force so they can strike this target.” The man pointed at the Mehatar Grande before continuing: “Once it’s done we will break off and return immediately. Any questions?”

“What about their anti-air capability, Sir?” One pilot asked.

“The reactionaries have strong anti-air cover in the areas and It will be dangerous out there. However, we have EW cover and our task force has some SEAD capacity to deter them.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“Anymore questions?”

“No, Sir!” In unison.

“Good, let’s go.”

The pilots quickly stood up, saluted and left for their aircrafts.

As the pilots walked to their aircraft, the ship’s captain and his officers were waiting for them in a line and gave each of them a handshake. “Go children, I wish for your triumphant return, for the Revolution.”
“For the Revolution!”

A few minutes later, 4 pairs of SU-27K-GV took off from the aircraft carrier. This flight code named Cá Kiếm would be fully armed for air to air operation, their task would be to provide air cover for the strike group.
“Cá Kiếm Flight, this is Phi Hổ Flight, we’re approaching rendezvous point.”

“Understood.” Thoại responded while checking his radar and saw 8 more Viet birds, as well as several other friendly aircraft. “Let’s keep to the plan, Comrade.”

“Let the Revolution be our guide.” Came the response of Phi Hổ Flight’s leader.

While also consisting of 8 aircraft, Phi Hổ flight was different. First, the flight flew MiG-29K-V instead of SU’s. Second, each of them still had air to air missiles, yet 4 of them also carried air to surface armaments in the form of missiles and smart bombs, while the remaining 4 carried anti-radiation missiles. The flight mission would be to strike at the Mehatar Grande and bring the building down.

---

Nearing Mehatar

Captain Elitungu checked his radar, noting right away the number of enemy aircraft that were on an intercept course for them, heading out from their FAB Bengal. Despite being an outward Marxist, the Cardwithian still kept to himself his faith in the old Cadugu gods, whom he prayed to now. The pilots of Panther flight had never been under such deadly imminent threat their whole deployment to Jaragupta, as they were right now. Even against the Gauls, they had had the backing of the whole ISVN fleet. Here, they were flying right into the mouth of the beast.

At the far top corner of the screen were the little cigar shapes of the mercenary rehabbed destroyers, surrounded by the half circle of Mehatar Bay. Their targets. While the Viet flights would loop around, maneuvering into the downtown to hit the formerly glorious Mehatar Grande, now starting to look more like a battered shell of its former self, The Cards were going right into the shark’s mouth, to hit the aged destroyers.

The irony that the should-have-been scuttled and junked ancient destroyers were operated by a group that was made up of mostly Falkasian nationals and run by Falkasian leadership was not lost on the Cardwithian pilots, nor their command. The mercenaries were a subsidiary of Universal Defense, as deep research by the CID had borne out. It wasn’t exactly that secret, though.

The Falkasian government had been stalwart allies during the Cardwithian independence struggle, and still now, stood by the Cardwiths in holding the line against the Hutanjians. In theory, the Falkasian government disavowed the Varangian Guard mercenary group, so it had been deemed by Noritts command to not have enough political ramifications to risk leaving the warships in operation against the ISVC. Time would tell on that.

---

Electronics Officer Vingur Jorgensson was furiously flipping switches in the cockpit of his MiG-29YGX, which was an updated Mikoyan with a heavily modified and updated electronic warfare suite customized by the People’s Red Air Force of the YSR. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Einar Rolfsson was doing the piloting in the seat forward of him.

SEAD ops were of primary importance at the moment, with jamming radars, target locators on SAM sites, and of secondary importance, fucking with the systems of the intercepting imperialist planes heading towards them.

In reality, the ISVCAF combined air superiority planes assigned to this raid could deal with them - Fatiman, Card, and Viet top of the line 5th gen + aircraft. The Yellowsians of his squadron were mainly concerned with their bombing run on the battleships, although if needed, some of the multi-role MiGs and Sukhois could split off to lend assistance to their Cardwithian, Fatiman, and Great Viet comrades in the escort flights.

Unlike the Cardwithians, the Yellowsians had no reservations about bombing Falkasian ships, whether they were controlled by the Falkasian military directly or not. It just happened to be opportune and less messy in dealing with diplomatic issues that the ships were not under direct Falkasian military control. While relations had improved between the two neighbors, there was still a lot of animosity, going all the way back to their clash in the 1960’s which had left thousands dead on both sides. Both countries had long memories. This would just be the icing on the cake.

---

Entering Mehatar Bay

At the same time as the EW planes were engaging the air defenses, the lead elements of the ISVC flights were about to engage the JRAF interceptors that had been launched to meet them. The Jaraguptan air defenses had gotten word from the Gaul fleet that tracked the flights heading away from Gahana, but had lost them as they headed further out to sea and away from the Mainland. JRAF command had been too busy figuring out what this wing was up to and not given thought that they should begin thinking about scrambling the interceptors west of the Gahana sector. Many of the Guild and Gaul aircraft were engaged to the East, over Gahana, and naturally it was thought the ISVC aircraft would hook in much closer to the channel over Gahana and the battle continuing there, in order to ambush them from another angle. They had guessed wrong.

The brave Jaraguptan pilots raced to get over Mehatar, but it was a race they were clearly going to lose at this point.
On both sides, from kilometers out, screeches in pilots’ ears told of missile locks. The Cardwithian and Fatiman escort fighters sped towards the JRAF birds, letting their sensors do the targeting from beyond visual range of their enemy. Triggers were toggled in cockpits. The first volleys were away in the air battle over Mehatar.

---

ISVC Command Center
Gahana City, PR of Gahana

Major Sandanezwe hurried up to Flecken, having ripped a report out of a young ISVC junior officer’s hands that was attempting to do the same. The Mubatan Major gave him a withering glance, without even trying to verbally tell him to go back to his desk.

“Comrade Commander Flecken, our attack is entering Mehatar Bay. The first bombs and missiles are away...” Sandanezwe read further, “Still no contact with ISVC command on the mainland.” The command under Colonel Fodenka that had now moved into Mehatar, unbeknownst to Gahana.

"How much initial resistance are we expecting?" Brigadier Flecken asked, sitting behind his desk, thought about Colonel Fodenka's direction of the operation. He grabbed the glass with his drink in one hand.

Sandanezwe frowned. “Well...considerable. This was a risky mission from the moment we started planning it. We had to hope that most of their attention was focused here, on Gahana, and not in Mehatar. That seems to have borne out. As you may recall, we only fixed the location of the headquarters of the mercenaries in Mehatar recently. In that hotel. The ships have been a target a bit longer. However, we knew that being a major city, they would have considerable air defenses. Our best hope was to make sure that they had their air reserves dedicated to the battles happening over the channel here. What has gone in our favor is the major successes of the rebels in taking out the local JRA forces and seizing major parts of the city.

"Intelligence should be accurate, then. The bombing should have some effect on the morale of the enemy. On the other hand, it will also somewhat hamper our progress in taking Mehatar if we're careless. Make sure our air bombing stays confined to our targets. At this point the enemy is too entrenched for carpet bombing to be useful. Our selectiveness will help us achieve our objectives quickly.” Flecken took a sip from his glass. It was juice: this was no place for alcohol at the moment.

“We have the technology, Comrade Brigadier, to keep it contained to the small area around that hotel, if not to that particular building. There could be some collateral damage. This is an old building squeezed in among many tall tenement buildings in a congested area, so there's just no way to guarantee that amount of accuracy. Recent satellite recon given by our allies shows that the area has already been devastated by the fighting between our allies, the HDLF rebels, and the mercenary garrison, so...I don’t know how much more damage a few bombs are going to do. They are launching mortars and the enemy is already reigning down fire from ground support aircraft. In other words, it's not a great concern of that much more destruction. The ships in the harbor are well away from the shore, but there are some civilian boats in the area. This can’t be helped.”

“Definitely reassuring in the big picture, barring some lapses in discipline. How about enemy movements elsewhere? Possible routes for their reinforcements, or distractions on other parts of the mainland? Any indications of counter offensives on our territory? I have reason to hazard a guess that they’ll avoid Gahana though. ‘Too tough to crack’, they might say.”

Flecken’s confidence in Fodenka’s abilities was complete amid the fog of war hovering over Mehatar. He was aware that things could go south, so, with what could be spared, he was considering incursions on some of the softer targets in the mainland as insurance. That way, the Jaraguptans and their allies would be kept honest and prevent them from directing all their forces in the city’s defense.

Colonel Tervejsson, the Yellowsian top ranking officer, stepped in here.
“Comrade Commander, we have caught some of their commando teams attempting to infiltrate Gahana. They are going to try to capture it sooner or later, but yes, we have fortified it too much for them to attempt a direct assault at the moment. As you know, our defenses and anti-missile rockets have knocked out many of the Gaul cruise missile and aerial attacks here, unlike the devastating one when we first arrived and did not have enough counter batteries set up. Likewise, the Gauls have fortified the coast across from Gahana, in anticipation of us continuing our campaign to conquer the whole Kingdom. They are sweeping up cells all the way from the northeast to the southeast in their latest campaign. I think this attack on Mehatar, along with the rebel offensive there, might be our best bet if we can continue to soften them up, and also in Suraksha. We mobilize to swing to the south and invade in that soft underbelly before they can shift forces to replace what they have lost. We must follow up this bombing with others.”

Major Sandanezwe nodded.
“For once, at this rare time, Colonel Tervejsson and I are in full agreement. I concur that we must exploit the unrest in the South. We need to keep them reeling and off their feet, then air drop troops in, followed by an amphibious assault, to link up with the HDLF rebels in full revolt.”

Flecken smiled a little at this. “Also agreed. Comrade Colonel, thank you for your input. And also to you, Comrade Major, for the report. Ensure the Mehatar operation’s success, do what is necessary to frustrate the enemy’s attempts to supply and reinforce the area. And I want more frequent reports from there until its conclusion.”

“Yes, Comrade Brigadier!” They said almost in unison.

“Dismissed.”

RP Credit to Diarcesia, Jaragupta, Divine Great Viet, Yellow Star Republic, Mubata

[Port Ember]

Gold Coast Borough
Port Ember Megalopolis
Republic of Port Ember
Archer Manor - Home of the CEO & Founder of Myrmidon Security Solutions
Col (Ret) Danny Archer

Piper Hungley opened the large oak wooden door, just too late to stop the insistent fool from ringing the doorbell once more. Once she swung the door open aggressively, her irritated expression on her smooth face contrasted with her professional and friendly tone of voice. Her experience as a professional majordomo had come through. This time.

"Good morning, Sir. Welcome to Archer Manor. How may I be of service?"

The irritating, bell ringing man was wearing faded blue jeans and a loose fitting grey t-shirt, accompanied by a baseball cap and shades. The shades seemed to be of the upmarket kind, which contrasted with his otherwise lackluster appearance, especially considering the fact that he was wearing sandals.

Sandals. With jeans. Sandals.

He stretched out his arm which contained an A4 paper size, thin and brown sealed envelope.
"Message for the Colonel", came the response.

Piper took possession of the envelope, inspecting it for any identifying writing or markings. She found none on the blank envelope.
"Who is the originator, Sir?" Piper did not enjoy calling this ruffian a ‘Sir’, but her dedication to social conventions insisted.

"A friend" came the reply, with the irritating ruffian turning his back on Piper, and proceeding to walk back towards the edge of the manor's boundary lines, not allowing for a continuance of the conversation.

The door was closed and locked in response and Piper disappeared into the Manor's innards.

As Majordomo of the Archer estate, a position which Piper had held for the past three years, answering the door was not really part of her job description. However, since she was near the front lobby when the doorbell rang, she didn’t mind handling the task. Besides, luck played out, as ensuring that mysterious packages were dealt with, was indeed part of her job description. As the Majordomo of the estate - or estate manager as some foreigners might know it as, she dealt with a wide variety of both mundane and extraordinary tasks on a daily basis. Whether this specific package fell under the mundane or extraordinary classification, would probably remain a secret to her for time immemorial.

---

Piper found Colonel (Ret) Danny Archer seated at the large mahogany desk within his private study, busy staring out of the room's large bay windows, into the magnificent ocean below the cliff upon which the Manor was constructed. Piper continued forward and placed the envelope on the desk before the Colonel.
"Colonel, apologies for disturbing you, but you have received correspondence. Unfortunately, no originator was provided, Colonel."

Colonel Archer nodded,
"Thank you, Miss Piper. I am dying for a cup of coffee, if you don't mind terribly."

Piper nodded as she answered smilingly, "Certainly Colonel, I will send the server right away", after which she left unceremoniously.

Colonel Archer frowned deeply as he stared at the unmarked envelope. An unmarked envelope delivered by an unknown individual was the textbook method of delivering a poisoned package, filled with resin, or some other kind of dubious poison, or even an 'envelope bomb'.

Straight out of the "How to be a Terrorist, for dummies" handbook.

However, as the Colonel investigated the unopened package further, in detail, his eyes caught three small ink blots near the bottom left corner of the package. His frown disappeared immediately, as he immediately identified the hidden identification mark, which a certain Organisation had chosen as their signature for use during correspondence with the Colonel. This was so obscure, random even, that no one who was not made specifically aware of this signature beforehand, would be able to identify the originator.

He continued to tear open the envelope, and retrieved a typed letter from within, which followed the same trend as the envelope, being devoid of any obvious clues of who the originator may be.

Placing his reading spectacles upon his nose, he started reading the letter,

Colonel.

The Organisation has been made aware of the activities and future plans of Myrmidon Security Solutions within the Kingdom of Jaragupta. The Organisation is also aware of the warm relations between your company and the USGSC.

As you are aware by now, the Organisation has no critique towards your inclusion within the Guild, nor towards your expanding business operations within Jaragupta.

However, as you also know, your freedom to conduct military operations in private capacity, and without opposition by either the Organisation, or any other formal organ, whether within Jaragupta or elsewhere, comes at a price, the cost of business, so to speak.

It is time to pay your debts, Colonel.

The Organisation demands your debts to be paid in the form of a liaison operation.

Recently, another business entity, who enjoys warm relations with the Organisation like yourself, had found themselves in a situation where some of their employees had become captives under the banner of said Kingdom. The Organisation believes it in our best interest that those employees be returned home, expediently.

This is your debt Colonel.

Your Friends from the Organisation.

Colonel Archer sighed deeply as he placed the letter back down upon the desk, and picked up the landline's handset from the desk.

He knew better than to disobey or stall.

He pressed the foreign numbers into the instrument, dialing the office of General Van Aardel, the top authority figure of the USG, whilst mentally calculating the time zone differences between Port Ember and Panto Leto, deep in the south central Madurin Sea, ensuring that he was not calling at an ungodly hour.

“U-S-G Security Command Staff office. This is Lieutenant Hoxzmy. How may I help you?”

"Greetings, Lieutenant Hoxzmy. You are speaking to Colonel Archer from Myrmidon Security Solutions, Port Ember. I am requesting to be patched through to General Van Aardel."

“Oh, yes, sir. I know you by reputation. It is an honor. It’s still a bit early in the morning here. I’m the night shift Operations Desk officer. You are in luck, however...General Van Aardel just arrived not too long ago to work out in the gym. I’m going to send an orderly over to get him. Could you hold on just a moment or two, Colonel?”

"Certainly, Lieutenant. Thank you very much." The Colonel switched the telephone instrument over to 'Speaker Mode' with a press of a button, which allowed him to free up his hand. He continued to light up one of his Port Emberian cigars whilst he waited.

After a few minutes, the silence was broken by a voice.
“Hello?...Danny? It’s Piet. Howzit?”

The Colonel smiled at the General's friendly, informal demeanor and quickly blew out a puff of smoke.
"Morning, General! I humbly apologise for calling this early. It would appear that my timezone conversion still needs some work."

“Ah, yeah, no worries. Always good to hear from ya...Ya know I don’t sleep much these days, bruh. I got in a little early today to get a work out in before work...So good timing.” There was a pause and a throat clearing on the other end, as Van Aardel regulated his breathing from his workout of a few moments ago.
“What’s on ya mind?”

"Well, there are three things which I figured I needed to update you with. Firstly, the Myrmidon Force has finalised all preparations, and is ready to ship out. Once the transport arrangements come through, the boots will be en route. Secondly, there is a slight change within the command structure… I have decided to lead the lads myself, so I will be in J-goop personally."

General Van Aardel took the towel draped around his shoulders and mopped at the beaded sweat on his face. He couldn’t help dropping Saffie slang throughout his utterances, as it came naturally when he was less formal and not giving a strategic briefing to clients or some such shit.

“Well, that is lekker news, Danny. We look forward to your arrival there. I wish I could meet you there in the Kingdom, but there’s business that keeps me here. You will have to give my regards to Colonel Cogant. Now...you said three things. That’s two you listed off or I have lost the ability to count, bruh. Was there more?”

Danny let out a soft laugh as he responded,
"Your counting ability remains intact, Sir. The last point is a bit of a sensitive matter…"

Danny let out a soft sigh before continuing,
"Sir, do you recall the attack on the Pan Asian Carrier, the Honshu?"

“First of all, although we have never met in the flesh, I feel we have had plenty of chats... that we know each other well enough now, Danny, so no more of this ‘Sir’ kak, right? Call me Piet. You are the head of another company, not my quartermaster. Second, yes, of course I remember the Honshu sinking...One of the most bizarre fokkin’ episodes of the war there, so far.”

Another polite laugh escaped Danny's lips before he responded,
"Of course Piet, apologies. The force of habit is not something easily broken. Anyway, the Honshu was indeed a bizarre event, but I can tell you that it was one which was celebrated by a lot of people in the far reaches of the world.

Now, I am aware that following the sinking of the ship, a lot of bodies, dead and alive, were dragged from the wet, and not all of them commie sailors… Those… bystanders are currently under the watchful eyes of the Kingdom's forces.

Now I know it is way too early to call in favours… But I really need one today. Is there no way you could use your connections to ensure the release of those folk?"

Van Aardel paused a moment, as he had to ascertain who else Archer was referencing other than the Pan-Asian sailors.
“Sooooe...Well, now we get to the heart of it, eh? I think I know who we’re referring to here, and I have heard mention of them before. It’s not such a huge favor to ask. All we can do is try. I will talk with Colonel Cogant. We do regular vidlink meetings and he briefs us on all the kak going on over there. To be honest, they have bigger meat to braai there, as they say...Or is that fish? Things are getting pretty heated there. I don’t think they’re so worried about these friends of yours. In fact, I think they’re kind of at hero status there, as well. More like guest apartments than jail. Certainly treated much better than the commie prisoners they have, to believe the stories...They have even caught a handful of these ISVC types now, can you believe it?”

There was a slight pause in the conversation as Danny took in, and exhaled another puff of thick cigar smoke, while he contemplated Piet's response. He was surprised to say the least, positively so, at the reply. He did not expect Piet to be so willing to accept to provide assistance, without even enquiring about why he wanted what he wanted. Perfect.

"Well, I must say that this is extremely excellent news! I thank you for the assist, and please know that as a result, I officially owe you one now. As for the ISVC prisoners - even better news. Those brainwashed commies are notoriously difficult to capture. Alive that is. It's as they say amongst my people - The only good commie… Is a dead commie."

Piet took the towel and again wiped at his sweat. He had his feet kicked up on his desk.
“Oh agreed! Anytime we can stick it to the fokkin’ Reds. Look, Danny...I understand...Well, honestly I didn’t know these pirate manne were from your part of the world, but now it makes sense…There were a lot of discussions with the Kingdom about who these vreemdeling fokkin’ pirates were and how they found them...Story for another time.”
He recalled having many conversations with both the Jaraguptan officials and Cogant about how a rando bunch of pirates suddenly tanked a major ISVC vessel under everyone’s nose. It had been the main topic of many briefings. Now, it was clear they weren’t random, and likely not even pirates.

“...And I get it. I also get having someone breathe down your neck. I know who that ‘someone’ likely is. We have an, odd, sometimes contentious, sometimes very friendly relationship with NESA (Neu Engollon Security Agency) that goes back before I was even a wee laightee…a pup. There was one contract where Intexa and NESA were completely at odds with each other. It was very messy. It took years to smooth that over, from what I hear. It’s not a lot of kak on us to help smooth this over and it keeps you...our friends...happy, along with tha fokkers breathin’ down yer necks. Why not oblige?...I can’t think of any reason not to. Bonus that you will owe us one, but in the end...us Guild fokkers gotta look out for each other, ya?”

Danny allowed a soft laugh to escape his lips before responding,
"Aye, there is a reason that you are considered by some to be the king of our industry. So you figured out my situation, despite me trying to hide the obvious. And without me revealing or admitting anything officially, aye, the release of those… 'bystanders' are critical to the potential future of my company. And I wholeheartedly agree with you Piet, since it's exactly as they say, 'Divided loyalties lead to united damnation.' Or something down those lines."

“Ah yeah, true that...Maybe a chat for another time, but all our contracts seem to keep being against the same group of fokkin commies, in different parts of the world. It’s a little more than coincidental and a bit worrisome...And ‘King of the Industry’? Our group by reputation is up there, for sure. I can’t steal any of that thunder. I learned from the best myself, Nelson Tell. They forced my friend into retirement and he had some good years left in him. Shame when the coin counters are in charge.”

"Interesting revelation there, Piet… Say, would you mind terribly if I asked you to send me a file detailing where and when exactly you have encountered the ISVC scum? My… 'friends' have a vested interest in containing radical global communism, thus I am sure they would be able to improve our lives in the long run, whilst even opening up more employment opportunities.

Anyway, I am well aware of the heroic history of your organisation and the deeds of commanders past, as well as the Guild's combined strengths. Though I am just repeating what I have heard, 'King Piet'." Danny laughed at his own joke as he pulled thickly upon his cigar once more.

Piet shrugged, even though Danny wouldn’t be able to see it over the phone.
“Fine. If you must call me ‘King Piet’, but General suits me more. I had my epic adventures in Hutanjia and other parts, for sure.
Look....I’ll talk to my operations officer, and Marchand, our Intexa Director, about this file. I don't know how detailed we can get. Ya know how it is with the discrete nature of some contracts.

Obviously, you know about Jaragupta, but that’s just in your face. They’re not even trying to hide that they’re giving the full fokkin’ push there. We do seem to know that they operate a little more discreetly in other territories. Not a contract of ours, but I read something about one of their commie infiltration teams turning up in St. Andre. Everything from trained assassins to pathologists and humanitarian workers...Mindbender there as to why they needed a pathologist on their infiltration team. But ya, Intexa tends to trade on info and that one was interesting. Pretty sure Marchand has been keeping tabs on these particular Reds as they keep popping up under every rock we turn. They are scary fokken organized, ya?”

Danny sighed softly whilst squashing his cigar into the ashtray, killing the main ember, although some fractions of the smoke-stick still emitted smoke from its ruins.
"Yes they are indeed. Evil incarnate. Whilst I have never dealt with them personally before, I have spent my entire professional military career rooting out various groups of Reds all across the globe. Their fanaticism has been the cause of untold death and misery. And that is why I am so honoured by the opportunity to have a go at them in J-Goop."

“Be careful, bruh. They are lobbing every conventional missile, bomb and jet they can at us there. The ISVC has a major resupply base in North Cardwiths providing a steady flow, and they got that fleet right off Gahana. It’s fokken messy. If the Gauls weren’t there, we would be overrun in a week.”

"Aye", came Danny's reply, "I attended the intel briefing which was hosted by Graciela. That lass of yours was very thorough, to say the least, and her revelations were an eye opener. We might have had small disagreements when we met in Jaragupta, but she is solid. Well, it's as they say, the only easy day - was yesterday."

“Ja nee, that they do say, Danny. So, if there’s not anything further, I will get to this request of yours. I have a meeting coming up soon with Marchand, anyway. I’m going to add all this to the agenda. He’s got key people over there that can help free up these…” There was some keyboard clacking on the other end for a moment. “Privateers.” From what he was reading, the Intexa had not been able to coax anymore details out of the Palace personnel, but it seemed likely that they were hired on by the Kingdom, which meant they were upgraded from mere self-serving pirates to privateers, serving a letter of marque.
“They took quite a beating. They didn’t fish many of them outta the drink, Danny. Also, be aware that there is an official legal request from the Pan-Asiatic States government to extradite them there to face war criminal charges. Considering that PAS is part of the ISVC and actively fighting the Kingdom, I don’t think they’ll give that much credence, but you know how these legal things are on the books, ya?”

"Well, I am not too worried about all the legal footprints, as that would be the problem of my… 'friends'. I just need their physical bodies out of there, whatever the consequences. And I cannot thank you enough for your assistance. Also, I meant it before Piet, I officially owe you one."

“Ha! I’ll add it to your account, Danny.”
Van Aardel gently cradled the landline phone, staring out the window onto the Campobello parade ground in thought.

[This post was co-authored by USG Security Corporation]

[Terre des Gaules]

Gaul Sector, Jaragupta

Operation Table Rase had finished the first sweep across the sector. It was one of largest allied coordinated efforts to date, involving forces from the Gaulic expeditionary force, JRA (Jaraguptan Royal Army), PMC Guild (mostly SSI troops and support), and of course, the Jaraguptan National gendarmes, with some help from Tamar pro-government militias. On that last point, the Gauls were not too enthused to work with ethnic right wing militias, but sometimes what was most expedient was not always the most desirable option. To say that there might have been some atrocities committed by unmonitored militia raids is an understatement.

They were working off intel from the USGSC’s Intexa intel division, BGSE (Bureau Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure), and the Jaraguptan Gendarmerie’s small, but somewhat efficient, intelligence organization (known simply as the Pragya), to eradicate the biggest nests of rebel activity. Many of the enemy’s cells had been decimated, and those that weren’t outright wiped out had to relocate fast, although they were running out of safe havens.

Troves of information was left behind that helped the Gaul commanders and intel gatherers target the next wave of HDLF cells being reformed or newly created to fill the void. Several leaders of the Marxist group were captured, and even a few ISVC advisors who chose to stick it out rather than abandon their socialist comrades. Gaulic operational commanders and liaisons had a hell of a time convincing their Jaraguptan counterparts that they shouldn’t immediately execute the ISVC operators as spies, but rather continue to utilize them for information. So far, they had managed to keep all those they captured, but one, alive.

That man had been captured by a JRA unit and the Gaul liaison had been helpless to stop the enraged Jaraguptans from gunning him down in the street. It was later assessed that he might be a Ressian (Aressna) agitator, but all they could gather for intel was what was in his pockets. Much later, a special Intexa unit would confirm his probable nationality based off a high percentage hit from his DNA. Not to say that other brave ISVC advisors didn’t die, but it was in the heat of battle, not during capture.

---

Wishtonian Sea
North of Gahana

The Gaul fleet continued to harass both the ISVN fleet and the ISVC land forces based on Gahana with air attacks and cruise missile attacks launched directly from the fleet. The missile attacks dwindled along with their effectiveness. The first couple attacks had been devastating on the socialist forces first forming a bridgehead on the breakaway island because they hadn’t had a chance to get more missile defenses up at the time. Now, with more defenses up, Gahana was becoming almost immune to missile attacks and bombing runs.

Even the Gaul naval air patrollers were more hesitant to engage, unless pushed by their ISVCAF opposites. The attrition of pilots and aircraft in dogfights over the channel, and around Gahana, wasn’t really serving any beneficial advantage to either side. There was also no tactical advantage to trying to diminish enemy air, at least when it came to operations in the east and over Gahana. The ISVC was able to fly in reinforcements from their large joint base Markville, on North Cardwith; while the Gauls could continue to bolster their air contingents from more squadrons flown in directly from Gaul to the northwest, or staged from Dachine, their colonial territory in Wishtonia.

Commando missions to infiltrate Gahana were also halted, due to the high risk and the lack of success so far. They had paid a high price that none of the allied officers felt was worth anymore effort. These commando infiltrations were a joint effort under allied command that involved personnel from not only Gaulic Special Operations, but also Guild elite troops, Jaraguptans and former expatriate Gahanans.

Even a small contingent of Hutanjian Rangers, Marines, and HSA (Hutanjian Security Agency) operators helped to fill out the teams.
While Hutanjia had been in hot political debate about getting involved in the Jaraguptan conflict, the Republican government under Hespatu had still quietly greenlighted this small contribution, without disclosing their active participation to the Runanga, home of the Tangata, or legislative branch.

It was hoped that the ISVC were also likewise unsuccessful in getting more saboteurs ashore onto the main island, but there was no solid intel to indicate that was the case. Part of the mission of Operation Table Rase was also to sweep up any such ISVC infiltrators and take out their potential support within the Kingdom proper - in the Eastern and Southeastern sectors.

---

Tuzarkha, Jaragupta

General Dalier, commander of all Gaul Expeditionary Forces, sat in front of a monitor with built in camera, listening to Colonel Cogant, the mercenary commander.
“...so, while I am worried about how Mehatar is collapsing, I still think it can be contained. However, this impending coup is another, more immediate matter. I have good sources that tell me the Royal Guard is about to turn everything upside down. Specifically General Halaganda, who seems to be at the head of it all.”

“He is a right bastard. I never got a good vibe from him.”

“Yes, but he is popular in the local circles, not just in Mavala, but with the Jaraguptan upper crust in all the central cities. Which of course is all the Tamars. He will be supported if he makes a move to take over, and he has no love for us...or you.”

“I understand how bad that could be, yes. Even though that’s out of touch with the reality of the Reds on their doorstep. What do you want me to do though, Colonel? All our troops are engaged in this campaign right now. We’re making good progress in clearing out the Reds. Your partners in the SSI have been instrumental in closing the gap there. They have done well in their sector, too. All the HDLF can do is run north and west into the heart of Tamar country, away from their support base...Which isn’t really an option for them.”

“Yes, I think just for now, we won’t need troops as much as help in locking down any of their forces they try to send back to the capital. They have regular military units on their side”

“What do you mean?”

“Especially at your forward air bases, if any of the JRAF units look like they’re about to make unauthorized flights, simply keep them from leaving. Ground them. We hope that we’ll be able to give you some advance warning if...when...they kick it off here, but no promises. But I do think you will know if it’s in motion. Same with the JRA and gendarme units...Simply block them from moving West.”

“You want me to ground their planes and roadblock them? What if this coup doesn’t happen but we need them to still fight with us? Such moves would really erode their trust in us.”

“Then...don’t do those things.”

“And if it kicks off from here first, before there? If I’m too late to stop them?”

“Then we’re screwed. But maybe...your intuition will tell you that the local units in your sector are not going to follow through with operations against the Reds. That would be great, but I just don’t know if we can count on that.”

“So, Colonel, what you’re telling me is that I need to decide on a whim whether I need to pull out the rug from our own local allies who have been instrumental in clearing out the Eastern Sector of these commie scum?!”

“General, you make it sound so uncertain.”

“Colonel, that seems to be the message you are conveying…”

“The uncertainty is with the timing, sir. What is not uncertain is that Halaganda has allies in unit leadership within your sector. That we are pretty certain about.”

“Pretty certain? Colonel, I’m not discounting what you are saying, but I think that this calls for further discussion and more solid facts to back our possible actions, assuming we aren’t served a fait accompli before our next discussion.”

“Assuming that, yes…Suit yourself then, General. Consider yourself accurately warned. In the coming days you might not have an ally left to defend from the Red hordes.”

“I will, of course, take this into account in our dealings, Colonel. Until we chat again. Adieu.”

“Colonel Cogant, Guild Command, out.”

What General Dalier didn’t feel necessary to bring up was that even if a coup brought about a regime change and a military junta under Halaganda, the Gauls would still likely work with the Jaraguptan government in order to counter the ISVC and the HDLF, even if they ejected the Guild mercenaries from the nation.

Strategically it would make no sense to get rid of able, well trained troops in order to maintain the security of the nation of Jaragupta, but if the Guild were to take their contract directly with the Rajah seriously, they would fight Halaganda’s coup forces. The damage to the alliance would be irreparable, but both the coup and the Guild opposition to that coup seemed inevitable. What would also suffer is Gaul’s special relationship with the USGSC, who utilized Gaulic territory for their operations. It was a quandary that Dalier needed to ponder, upon other more immediate matters in the sector.

Credit to USG Security Corporation, Hutanjia, and with mention to The Cardwith Islands and the rest of the ISVC, of course, for confirming these actions.

[The Cardwith Islands]

Rujinga, People’s Republic of Gahana

She sat in the hut as the thoughts and memories swirled around her. It was almost suffocating and she edged closer to the open doorway to suck in more of the air from the outside. Fresh air was relative, as the rot of the jungle and the sweltering humidity entered her lungs. Still, it seemed fresher than that fetid air inside.

Against operating protocols, she still used this hut from time to time during breaks from missions, among others scattered around Gahana.
The Rujinga elders kept it vacant for her and kept out any kids and local riff raff from disturbing it. Aside from herself, some other trusted CAIF personnel used the hut as transient space now and then as they traversed Gahana. Just because they’d driven out the Jaraguptans, didn’t mean their work was anywhere near finished. On their initial visit, they needed a special password to alert the village elders that they were friends with Yamala.

She was on very friendly terms still with the villagers. That was probably putting it very humbly, as they actually worshiped the ground she walked on. She, along with the other members of the original Gahana CAIF team were exalted heroes of the new People’s Republic. The Gylians, her other PASD comrades, the Vionnans, including…Martin…

She looked back at the sleeping mat closest to the door, imagining the older man who had often occupied that mat and shared the hut with her. Every angle and movement was imprinted on her mind. While his deeply tanned skin had almost matched her naturally dark melanin, that under his shirt and shorts was certainly the waxy pinkish hue of Caucasians of his age. She could picture his smile and could almost sense the tenderness of his touch again.

It had been a long while since she had seen Martin, but she wasn’t so anxious to see him now. Rather she would relish the ghost of the past, when things had been better between them and they had been more united in cause, as well as romantic spirit.

She didn’t begrudge him his new job at the forefront of the new People’s Army of the new small socialist island state. He had definitely been the man for that job to shape the ragtag force of HDLF fighters up into, if not an army that could throw its weight around, even to the main Jaraguptan island, one that could certainly repel significant threats to Gahana.
She had considered dropping in on him, but her own missions kept her quite busy. That and it would just be really fucking awkward.

She took the large blade out of its sheath. It would be the first thing she cleaned, then she would work on the gun, a trusty CZ P-10C that she had carried since the early days.

The knife was crusted to the hilt with flecks of ochre residue, leftover from her victims along the western coast of Gahana. She had led ISVC teams in the forefront of dispatching the imperialist commando infiltrators. Her blade had done in Gauls, traitor Gahanans, Jaraguptans, mercs, and even a handful of Hutanjians, alike. What she’d been careless about was cleaning it afterwards. In the depths of her missions, she usually didn’t have time for that.

It was a constant battle to catch the enemy teams before they got further inland to sabotage major ISVC installations and radar sites, or link up with the weak remnants of the resistance - a few right wing Tamar militia holdouts cowering in the mountains. To their knowledge, they had eliminated most, if not all the teams. There weren’t many places for them to hide where the locals wouldn’t rat them out, and the ISVC weren’t nearly so overconfident to think they were invulnerable to such probes.

The hunter teams, mostly made up of CAIF personnel, were experts at the game, having largely been on the other end of it up to the declared independence of Gahana, here in Jaragupta, and on countless other missions around the globe for ISC socialist cause. She had also been across the channel with her own infiltration teams and made it out by the skin of her teeth, as the Gauls and allies were just as adept at sniffing out saboteurs, and they had decimated the HDLF support network along the Eastern coast in recent campaigns.

Yamala pulled the bowl of water closer that she had filled at the village pump, along with a cleaning rag, and began to dip it and scrub herself with the rough cloth. Next would be her knife, then the grip of her pistol. She had a small, beat up cleaning kit and little bottle of oil for when she stripped down the gun and finished the job.

---

Socialist Allied Command HQ
Mehatar, Jaragupta

Brigadier Fodenka continued to observe from a rooftop as his forces finished battering the Grand Mehatar Hotel. He smiled, knowing that the mercenaries’ lives could be measured in mere minutes, not hours.

Though spotty, communications with ISVC Command on Gahana were getting through now. (It was how Fodenka learned of his promotion from Colonel.) While it put the ISVC assets in the Kingdom at risk, it was deemed worth the risk to keep communications open and coordinate this phase of the battle.

With shock, Fodenka and his command watched as counter-battery fire from the West slammed into ISVC/HDLF positions around the dock area. Rocket teams and crews operating captured JRA artillery vaporized as Guild artillery and rockets hit home, having not moved quick enough after their last salvos were fired. However, it was not a large quotient of his RPG and artillery teams that succumbed to enemy rounds. A lot of them had heeded procedure and packed up quickly, just narrowly avoiding the counter-battery fire that slammed into their firing spots.
Sacrifices were made. They would drink to them later.

JRA and Jaraguptan Gendarme resistance had melted away in the city, as more and more HDLF cells were activated and joined into larger formations in order to repel the occupiers. With this loosening of resistance, Fodenka was able to redirect many HDLF units to move West to hunt down the mercenary units and reinforcement JRA companies sent to rescue the city’s Royal defenders.

Fodenka, through the same trusty channels, had also heard of the impending air strike from ISVN and Gahana. He would monopolize on that by reallocating assets. He called on all rocket, mortar and artillery units, those that had survived, to redirect their fire at the tracked sites of the enemy who had fired upon them. It was time to bring vengeance on the foreign mercenaries that held up a corrupt, Imperialist regime.

He and his adjutants waited eagerly on another rooftop, one of five he was rotating around, to witness the results of the ISVC air strike on the hotel and the mercenary ships in the harbor.

Mehatar Bay

While the Viet and Fatiman jets raced in, taking some AA fire from the Varangian Guard ships in the harbor, they focused on the hotel, leaving the merc destroyers’ fates to the other bombing group of Yellowsian and Cardwithian jets that were focused on them. Still, a few fighters were knocked out of the sky by missile and CIWS fire as they closed in.

They had already released their missiles by the time they were engaged by the VG destroyers, so it was futile that the mercenaries on the ground in Mehatar should expect they were safe from the maelstrom on its way. Jaraguptan and Guild air assets at nearby air bases surrounding Mavala and Mehatar had not been scrambled in time to meet the ISVC raid, busy as they were with ground support missions all around the area.

Missiles raced in from both raiding groups towards the VG destroyers and the Guild, mostly VG, held hotel just west of the dock area.

---

ISVC HQ
Gahana City, PR of Gahana

ISVC Command realized quickly that while they were stalemated against the Jaraguptans, Gauls, and mercenaries on the Eastern coast, the soft underbelly of the Kingdom was wide open as the Hamikhs, mainly the HDLF, rebelled in all the major southern cities. Fortune smiled upon those who were wise enough to exploit open doors.

Flecken and his staff, after some brief debate, went into action to order ISVN fleet elements to circle back to the south of Jaragupta to support efforts by the Marxist rebels there. Troops that had been marshaling on the Western coast of Gahana for a direct, brutal invasion of the Eastern Jaraguptan coast were now siphoned off to prepare to infiltrate near Mehatar, to take advantage of the chaos currently rocking that area. Some would be flown ahead to insert by air, while the rest prepared for an impromptu amphibious invasion.

Goes to the several ISVC partners mentioned in this post.

[Jaragupta]

The Palace
Mavala, Jaragupta

A document more akin to a summons than a memo or request arrived on Corey Shaw’s desk.

General Halaganda expects your presence in the Hunt Room at 1400 today. Do not delay.

There was no signatory, nor other indication of the sender, other than the name of the Chief of the Royal Guard.

Corey smiled softly as he neatly folded the received letter in half, before placing it into the top drawer of his desk. He had known of the General's hate towards him and his men since the second that they had arrived, as he was not very subtle in hiding it, and the tone of this letter was just another form of showing his distrust and distaste.

However, things had changed drastically since the last time they had met face to face, as Corey had unearthed solid evidence that the good general was concocting a coup against his Rajah, by turning one of his officers into a mole. Had the General found out about his moves? Did he suspect him more than before? Either way, the game was afoot.

Since there was no way of answering these questions without meeting with the General, Corey tidied himself before shortening the distance towards the Hunt Room, but not before informing his team of the rapid developments. Despite the dangers, Corey was certain that the General would not move against him today, at least not so publicly. He did have the backing of his team, and of the Guild, after all.

As Shaw entered, General Halaganda was enjoying a cigar and snifter of brandy at one end of a large table. He was focused on one of the tapestries that depicted one of the famous royal hunts. It featured a generous amount of elephants and panthers. Meanwhile, he had been chatting with one of his junior officers that seemed ready to jump to any of his requests. An ornate glass ashtray lay on the table to collect his ash.

The Hunt Room was one of several long halls in the Palace that saw little use other than some special events and occasions. It was, like many rooms of the Palace, ornately decorated. In this instance, with heads, skins, and horns of vanquished prey, along with framed portraits, paintings, and hung tapestries depicting hunts in the Northern lands of many past regents of the Kingdom. Gold statues of the local large fauna, as well as busts of past regents in their hunting regalia were spaced out along the hall.

Intentionally, Halaganda’s back was to the main door, to show his disdain for any threat to his safety. As Shaw opened the door that opened to the middle of the long room, Halaganda waved to the junior officer, a Captain, muttering in Hindi,
“Wait just a moment. We may need to cater to our guest.”

He slowly and calculatingly made a big show of turning towards the door as Shaw made a rapid pace towards his end of the long hall table. It was not a wheeled chair, so he had to shift it midway through his pivot away from the window and towards the table.
“Mr. Shaw. A pleasure!” The smile on his lips did not match his eyes, “Please have a seat. Can I have my adjutant, Captain Rujarpawan, fetch you a beverage?”
In their culture, as in many others, it was traditional to stand as a new guest entered to show respect. The General did not stand.

A sincere smile formed on Corey's lips, not originating from a place of content, but amusement. The dramatic 'Bond Villain Chair pivot' and refusal to adhere to his own customs of respect, spoke volumes about this maniac. The smile originated from the fact that Corey's instincts warned him that he was now within the lair of a dangerous tiger. And he liked a challenge.

Corey came to a halt near the General, where he assumed the position of 'attention'. Legs, feet and arms were tucked tightly against the body, the way Port Emberian soldiers performed a saluting gesture when in civilian clothing. "General. Captain." Spoken firmly but friendly. He decided to actively maintain the appearance of civility. He relaxed his body before taking up a seat. Turning towards the General, he responded, "Thank you for the kind offer, Sir, but I am fine. Thank you. I just finished a bottle of water before my arrival."

The General nodded.
“Suit yourself.” He waved the Captain off and the junior officer vacated the room through the door that Shaw had just entered, circling wide around the foreign contractor.

“I won’t waste time on trivialities, Mr. Shaw. I was curious to know your thoughts on the current security of the Palace? It has been a while since we touched base, after all.”
He punctuated his point by tapping cigar ash into the tray.

"Well, not much has changed since the last time we had spoken I believe. All is well and secure." Corey had to ensure that he remained as cryptic as possible, without appearing openly suspicious. This was a difficult task however, as the Royal Guard, obviously under direct orders from Halaganda, attempted to make Corey's job very difficult. From refusing to grant access to several "secure" rooms; to making constant excuses as to why the Palace blueprints, which showcased the numerous hidden passages and rooms, could not be shared; to outright avoiding his squad. Halaganda obviously knew that this pissed Corey off, but he would not give him the pleasure of showing it. Instead, Corey and his team explored and mapped the Palace and the grounds in secret, whilst drafting and putting in place numerous contingency plans in case that drama would ever erupt within the palace.

“Mmhhmm. I see. Well…then I will have to express how much I greatly disagree with you. In general, I think all is not well. We are under constant threat, both from external forces, and from within. Externally, of course, there are those who would plot against the Rajah from within his very own government. Ministers that feel they could do a better job at leading the Kingdom. They don’t have direct daily access to the Palace, but they hope to turn some of those who do.” He took a moment to sip from his brandy.
“...Then, of course, the communists that have ingratiated themselves with the Hamikh minority. Some might think we, and our brothers in the Royal armed forces, take pleasure in bringing discipline and order to the Hamikhs, but I assure you…it brings us no satisfaction to be seen by our Hamikh cousins as their oppressors. Ridiculous…We have lived harmoniously for centuries before the most recent divisive decades…Then there are the Tamar nationalists. It’s no secret that the Royal government makes use of them in keeping the Hamikhs and other groups at bay, but they always look to overreach. Many of them think it would be ideal to form some sort of fascistic republic and eject or eradicate all non-Tamars, along with the Rajah and current government for coddling them. Beyond ridiculous.”

He let out a big puff of smoke from the cigar over the table, knowing that a good part of it would blow into Shaw’s face. He had been careful to show, however, that he wasn’t intentionally directing the cloud into the Port Emberian’s face.
“They all seek ways to breach the Palace. We are under constant barrage, and I haven’t even got to speak towards the internal threats…yet.
Secure? Yes. For now. Well? I should think not. But I guess we should excuse your foreign ignorance of the true situation, despite your supposed expertise. You have not been here long enough to truly understand all the issues and complexities that affect those of us sworn to protect the Rajah, let alone your average Jaraguptan. Why the Rajah decided to hire on your company, when we of the Royal Guard were much better informed and doing more than an adequate job is mystifying, but then I have to remind myself that your mercenary partners in the Guild, that...Colonel Cogant…ecckhh! Fucking cyclops. What a distasteful fellow…Anyway, the Guild has had both of the Rajah’s ears to spew their drivel into…”

As Corey listened to Halaganda fire off his deceptive lies and insults, his hand, hidden underneath the table where they were seated, was used to pinch the hell out of the palm of his other hand. An old trick of the trade picked up from his years within Task Force 79, the Port Emberian Security Forces special forces, which helped him force himself to remain calm and maintain neutral facial expressions, as any skilled operative could easily pick up emotions and deception by the smallest change of momentary expressions. The man was clearly testing him, insulting him, then baiting him into revealing just exactly how much he knew, and just how much of a threat he was to the General’s upcoming plans.

"Well General, I have no doubt that your men are the pinnacle of your armed forces, and that the security of the Rajah is in excellent hands. And as a foreigner, I could never understand the intricacies of your daily struggles and politics. But, fortunately, my men and I have not been brought in to replace your competent forces, but merely support and strengthen the physical defense of the Rajah, his family and home. We know that we can never decipher threats in the same manner as your organization, thus we rely on your strategic skills, whilst we provide a helping hand in making sure that the right folk don't get shot by the wrong folk."

Corey maintained a straight face through his lies, deception, and anger. He wanted to spit in the General’s face, whilst telling him that he was well aware of the rapidly deteriorating situation, and all the key players carrying pitchforks and torches. He wanted to tell him that the Intexa intelligence operatives had kept him well up to date regarding the bigger scope of the intelligence picture in secret. He wanted to mockingly disclose that the "gray men" of Myrmidon have been very busy in establishing intelligence networks in the city, slowly inserting eyes and ears everywhere. Luckily, he managed to contain himself for now.

General Halaganda smiled a viper's smile. He had been unable to goad Shaw, but he wouldn't let his irritation show. He took another sip of his drink, just to wet his lips. Through his own network of the Royal Guard, he was well aware that Myrmidon had their own people out in the streets of the capital and beyond. He’d left the door open hoping that Corey would drop that particular nugget right into the open. But to no avail.

"Right. Of course. How diplomatic and complimentary of you, Mr. Shaw, to acknowledge the Royal Guard’s professionalism. However, moving on to internal threats, there is something you missed, as did we, I must admit..."
He put the cigar, still lit, into the ashtray and then folded his hands in front of him. He intently studied Shaw's face as he continued to speak.

"...There was a mole right under our nose, in the very ranks of my Guard. No one I should think you would know, although some of my officers tell me they saw him in your presence...Odd that. A Major Vamataryinja. He was a shift commander in charge of surveillance camera maintenance and collection. We caught him altering data collection records. We haven't yet, eh...convinced him to 'see the light' so to speak, but I'm certain he will crack soon enough and we will find out which of those factions I mentioned he might be working for...Alternately, one of my cyber experts is working on reversing some of the edits done to the data to find out what he was attempting to cover up."
He cleared his throat.
"Did you, in fact, know Major Vamataryinja, Mr. Shaw?"

A wave of nausea washed over Corey in a flash as his world went to shit around him in a single sentence. The word "Motherfucker" flashed through his mind repeatedly. Major Vamataryinja was in fact his mole, and a vital piece to his survival strategy. With him out of play, his odds for survival had decreased dramatically. More urgent however, was the fact that the good Major hated Corey, and thus the possibility of blabbing the truth was a real threat. The only glimmer of hope left was hoping that the Major would keep his lips sealed on account of Corey's promise to keep his family safe.

When Corey felt a patch of wetness on his palm, he snapped back to reality. The skin on his palm was breached from the pressure applied to it by his nails. His face remained neutral, despite the armageddon scenarios playing like films in his mind.

"Hmmm…Yes, I believe I do know the Major. But, no more than I know many of the officers working in the Palace. I have shared a number of cigarettes and empty 'How do you do's' with the brave men whom I consider colleagues during my patrols. It is a pity that a sworn officer would betray his nation like this, General. I hope you manage to discover his intentions soon."

The viper’s smile was back.
“Right. Of course. Casual acquaintance…I’m sure that’s what they were witnessing when they saw you two together.” Halaganda delicately took up the cigar again to take a puff.
“I hope we discover his intentions, as well, Mr. Shaw. Our next step is to scoop up his family for leverage to ensure the veracity of his story…” He looked at his wristwatch.
“...Which should be happening in the next few minutes.”

Corey nodded softly before responding, "I see. I must admit, where I am from, we do not condone the utilization of innocents in the pursuit of our goals… But I am not home and I will respect the rules of another's home, so to speak. Besides, it will certainly be an effective tool, as time is of grim essence." Corey knew that his team was listening to the conversation through the standard listening device implanted within his Myrmidon issued 'Team Watch', and his muttering of their code sentence gave them the order to activate their contacts within the city to extract the Major's family with absolute haste. He just hoped that they would be in time, for the sake of many lives.

"I hope that you will be kind enough to share the intel gained from the Major with me, Sir? I need to obviously prepare the men and strategy to assist in the defense against the enemies so close to home."

“Of course, Mr. Shaw. We will share with you what we can. You definitely are not home anymore.” It was the only response he would make about Shaw’s moral objection to his methods.
“I think we should conclude for today. We both have urgencies to attend to, yes?”

"It is merely a metaphorical manner of speaking General, but I hear you. And I believe you are right, yes, and with that I wish you fortune on your objectives." Corey nodded towards the General as he rose from his seat before departing the room. Whilst walking out, Corey found it increasingly difficult to ensure that the plethora of insulting names flashing through his mind did not escape his lips. His life and the lives of his entire team were now at stake, for if the General's men got their filthy traitorous hands on Vamataryinja's family, nothing would hold him back from betraying him. He could only pray that his men could prevent that.

---

Operations Center
Dhakani Bidu Air Base (Bengal)

Colonel Akil Bhardwaj knew at a certain point that this day would be the most immense in his life, one way or another. Truly he could never have imagined that his name would become synonymous with the situation he found himself thrust into in later Jaraguptan lore. Even if his life weren’t to end soon, he’d wish for a quicker end.

Responsibility is a shocking side effect to those who take a position for prestige and monetary benefit, without actually weighing out the accountability of that new position. Colonel Bhardwaj was one of those who had severely miscalculated.

His private counterpart on Bengal, what the Guild mercenaries called Dhakani Bidu Air Base, was a fellow from the USGSC, as were many of the contractors assigned to assist the Jaraguptan Royal Armed Forces. Illaesus ‘Illie’ Bartoglio was high ranking in their organization, a Major. Although a Major was not so high ranking in most world militaries, except when it was explained that the USGSC only retained a handful of Colonels and only one General in a force of 40,000, it made more sense that the Major was held to the esteem of what might be a Brigadier in some armies, but at least definitely equal to Colonel Bhardwaj’s rank.

Still, for Bhardwaj’s purposes, it suited him when challenged by his counterpart, an ethnic Roman he’d learned in their chats, that he treated him as he would a Jaraguptan Major. Today was that day that he had to lean on that technicality.

“My nation is under attack and you think you have the right to ground our pilots!”

“Yes, it is under attack, but I still want you to explain these mission orders! You were about to scramble the interceptors to coordinates in the opposite fucking direction! Away from the attack.”

“Our nation is under attack everywhere, Major!”

“Except for the Capital, unless you know something the rest of us don’t?”
Major Bartoglio knew exactly what he was doing. Colonel Bhardwaj, of the 35th Air Group, had been a flagged suspect for the impending coup, and now Bartoglio had solid proof that he was involved, and also, more shockingly, that the first steps of the coup were under way. Any ambiguity about the motives of certain officers of the Jaraguptan Royal Armed Forces would now be swept off the table in the next few minutes.

“And what exactly do you think you know…Major?”

“I know that you’re a traitor to your Kingdom and if you aren’t colluding with the foreign assholes sending bombers into the air sector over Mehatar right now, you’re certainly colluding with someone undermining the defense of our client.”

“I think you are the one that is undermining our defense right now. Leaving us helpless to the communists. I think the same allegations could be redirected at you. You need to stand down, Major. We need to get some response up in the air. NOW!”

“No. Not under your orders.” Bartoglio was not going to play mental gymnastics with Bhardwaj. There was no more time for that, and it would only steel the resolve of the JRAF staff against his own.

His men had unholstered their pistols, and had them at the ready. They were not the first to draw, however. That had been the JRAF junior officers leveling their weapons at the Guild air wing personnel. There was about to be a lethal showdown in the Bengal Operations Center. Precious time to get the word out was being wasted here. He hoped someone had been able to warn the Palace.

Bartoglio might have been done talking to the Colonel, but he continued to address the rest of the JRAF officers. While he was certain about Bhardwaj, and had discussed as much with Colonel Cogant in an earlier video conference, they were less certain about the other officers under Bhardwaj’s command being in on Halaganda’s coup. They were only relying on their loyalty, as far as anyone could ascertain at this point.
“The only aircraft I have grounded are the single seater interceptors. At this moment, just before I entered the building, I issued counter-orders to all the rotor aircraft and multi-seat planes to rush to the fight over Mehatar. They will have a guest crew member on board each aircraft to ensure they fly the right direction. The only pilots of yours still grounded were those unwilling to join another crew.”
It was calculated risk to remove most of the Bengal base security in order to crew all the allied aircraft, but he was certain it would be the right move. They also had word that Guild reinforcements were minutes away.

A JRAF Lieutenant that had walked in late into the Center spoke,
“Yes, Major Bartoglio is telling the truth. I saw it happen. We need to get them up in the air now.”

The Roman born Major nodded.
“Bengal’s fight…Dhakani Bidu’s fight…is in Mehatar. Supporting the counter-attack to retake the city, and intercepting the ISVC raid taking place this moment that is minutes away probably from releasing bombs and missiles at our forces. Your Colonel was about to send the bulk of this base’s aircraft to Mavala. There are no enemy units in the Capital. Not waving a red flag, anyway...If your loyalty is to your Kingdom, you will get back to your jobs and assist us in these efforts. If not, well, then you’re just making a very bad choice that you probably won’t live long to regret.”

Months of building up a rapport and showing their JRAF counterparts how genuine and serious they were at their job in helping the Kingdom fight the communist menace was now paying off.
Many of the officers shifted their service pistols back from targeting the Guild men and women to point at Bhardwaj and another Captain and Lieutenant who continued to be ready to fire on the Major almost point blank. And now Bartoglio had two more coup plotters identified. The reveal didn’t surprise him. He was sure that some of the others had just shifted allegiance within this minute.
“Alright then. You have five seconds to lower your weapons and surrender.”

Another couple tense seconds passed.
The radio crackled away.

“Granite flight awaiting take off!”

“Quartz flight awaiting take off!”

“Marble flight awaiting take off!”

“Iron flight awaiting take off!”

The three remaining holdouts sagged, defeated, knowing at that point there was nothing left. Support for the coup had just melted to nothing at Dhakani Bidu. The officers rushed to the monitors and radios to release the flights for take off.

In minutes, all the flights were away, to either intercept the ISVCAF bombers, or to give support to the JRA and Guild ground forces pushing in from the North and West to relieve what Royal allied forces were left in the city.

Similar scenarios were playing out at garrisons, outposts, air and ground forward bases, all across the Kingdom. The Gauls were also actively grounding any JRAF counterparts they couldn’t directly control, having been given word that a coup might be under way. The incident at Bengal might have been the first indication, but several others followed within minutes. After General Halaganda’s chat with Shaw, he had been quite busy.

To fill in the gaps and keep up the air defense, the Gaulic fleet's squadrons were all launched, and any other air assets they could spare in their Eastern sector. The same with Guild, mostly USGSC, aircraft. A small reserve was left.

General Halaganda’s coup was already doomed as his expected ace, the JRAF, was completely taken over by the Rajah’s allies, and away from any extracurricular activities they might have planned. Halaganda, not privy to this fact, still gave the signal for the coup to commence. One of his officers had raised a plain black flag from the one of the Palace’s main towers. Encrypted radio signals and texts had also gone out. There was no turning back now.

Credit to Port Ember, USG Security Corporation, and Terre des Gaules for their parts in this post.

[Port Ember]

Mavala
Capital District
Jaragupta

Dagon Farlong was seated within one corner of the Bè Bevarej Kaif coffee shop, his back facing against the exposed brick wall. Large, floor-to-roof shop windows were to his immediate right, and the interior of the café to his left. From this vantage point he could observe his surroundings perfectly, both within the café, especially the entrance, and the outside, and could thus casually determine if anyone was following him. So far, so good.

What made his position even better was the fact that the sun had settled at a perfect angle to where it bounced off the shop's windows, making it possible to see outside from the inside, but impossible to see inside from the outside.

He was slowly nursing a large cup of strong coffee and occasionally biting into the bran muffin which rested upon the small white porcelain plate before him. This was all very casual and serene - despite the fact that the country was in a state of utter chaos and war. The capital was not in such a sorry state as other parts of the island, but it was not completely spared either. There might not have been open warfare in the streets, but protests and riots were an everyday occurance in the capital by now.

This suited Dagon perfectly, as it was a lot easier to blend into a dark skinned nation with his caucasian skin when everyone was wholly focused on not dying, taking away the opportunity to fully focus on the foreigner and his doings and goings.

Despite being, or at least, feeling safe at the moment, he was not overly excited to still be within the nation. He knew things could go from bad to worse at any given moment, catching him in the middle of a fight which was not his. He and his team of gunmen for security purposes had entered the country a little less than a week ago, on a gun run - smuggling in and selling a weapons cache to some or other local for a very tidy profit. They had then used this profit to acquire a few "misplaced" antique art pieces, which were to be sold again abroad, for an even tidier profit.

He sighed deeply as he was trapped inside his own thoughts, remembering vividly the conversation which was the direct cause of him still being within the nation. He replayed the scene over and over again in his mind.

---

Four days ago.

As Dagon flicked his cigarette from the window of his moving vehicle, onto the tar outside, he felt a violent vibration inside his jacket's breast pocket. He reached into the pocket, retrieving his cellphone, the originator of the vibrations. The touch screen of the device indicated that there was an incoming call from a blocked number. He swiped the green accept button as he placed the device to his left ear.

"Yah? Who is this?"

A voice immediately replied, "It would appear that your time as the nation's most infamous smuggler and general bad guy has had a tremendous negative effect on your manners, young man."

Dagon instantly recognised the voice on the other end of the line. "Colonel Danny Archer, as I live and breathe. I can honestly admit that I did not think that I would ever see or hear from you again."

"Yes I can imagine that… But life is filled with small surprises, ain’t it?"

"I fear you have caught me at a busy time, Colonel. I suggest you call me back at roundabout never. Does that work for you?"

Dagon could hear a chuckle emanate from Danny Archer. "Fine, son, I can see that you are refusing an old man the opportunity to play nice, so suit yourself… I know that you have been a very naughty boy in Jaragupta, selling boomsticks and buying plundered art, now nestled upon your Rydell Class container vessel…"

Dagon unleashed a flurry of cusses in his mind after feeling his heart skip a number of beats. How could the old geezer possibly know!? Dagon followed every rule in the book to ensure that his activities remained hidden and secure, yet here the old man was, knowing everything about everything!?

Despite being in utter shock and completely ticked off, Dagon finally regained his composure after a healthy period of silence. "What of it?"

"Well, I personally imagine that the Guild and local police forces will appreciate the knowledge of your naughtiness quite a bit, don't you think? Just imagine the good graces it would bank me should I directly assist this struggling nation in the recovery of ancient and priceless artifacts! I reckon the favors owed would benefit me greatly. Thus, Mister Farlong, your situation appears to be a platinum credit card in my favor."

Dagon sighed, knowing that he was being blackmailed badly here. He also knew that whilst he was good at disappearing acts and good in a firefight, the odds were badly stacked against him, should such big players be set upon him. "Yet, you had the decency to warn me, thus you obviously have a counter offer."

"Still the smart boy I once knew, aye? Yes, as an alternative, I can simply forget what I have learned and misplace the evidence to support it, which would probably mean you enjoy a healthy payday, complete with flowing drugs and lassies of ill repute."

"Yeah… And what would this bid of forgetfulness on your part cost me?"

"Oh, nothing much, really. Just a teensy little favor or two. A favor between old friends is not a high cost, now is it?"

"Oh don't bullshit a bullshitter, Danny. We were never friends. You were the Officer Commanding of the Task Force, leading a bunch of elite pawns in the game of puppets. I was never more than a tool for your objectives to you, and you were never more than the gray, old geaser giving orders to me."

"Ah, it saddens me to realize that you have not learned anything during your time in Task Force 79. But, I digress…"

"Yeah… Out with it."

"Very well. Corey Shaw now works for me, and as you might remember, he is a bit of an unrealistic idealist. The lad is deployed in J-Goop and he made the hasty promise of keeping a family safe. Wife and 6 kids. Now, that day of redeeming the promise is fast approaching and someone might very well want to void that deal… Unfortunately, Corey is a tad occupied, and thus cannot personally keep his promise. Now, I have men en route to the Islands, but it's going to take a while for them to get there. I need you to be the keeper of Corey's promise should the need arise, until my lads land in-country.

Dagon sighed once more. "Fine. Corey always was a fool, but he is a good lad. I'm doing this for him then, not for you."

Danny let out a laugh again, "I thought a bulshitter should not be bulshitted? You are doing this to save your own hide, as you are just a selfish prick."

"It would appear that I'm not the only one who did not learn anything in our Task Force times, Colonel…"

---

Present Moment

Dagon was not pleased at all with this arrangement as every extra second he was spending in this shit hole, increased the chances of something going wrong. However he had no choice, and was forced to play the game, hoping that the 'odd job' could be called in and done with, so that he could go and spend his future fortune somewhere a little nicer.

He was still caught deep in his own thoughts when his cell phone started to shake within his inner jacket pocket, which he grabbed at after breaking back into reality, "Yah?" He remained silent as the voice on the other end conveyed orders, a deep frown formed on his forehead, "Understood. Address?" He nodded as he received an answer from the person on the other end of the call.

He ended the call without saying goodbye, and stood from his seat. He left a large paper bill on the table, more than generously covering his tab, plus tip.

Once outside the café, he approached the two SUV's on the sidewalk, filled with a total of 7 lads. Moments later the two vehicles sped off towards the Shantpani neighborhood. The lead vehicle, carrying Dagon, traveled towards the home address provided by the caller, whilst the second vehicle broke off towards the direction of the Gabajaram Academy.

---

Gabajaram Academy
Shantpani Neighbourhood
Mavala, Capital District

Lieutenant Navin Bupendra scanned faces as they slowly coasted up to the school where Bagheera Vamataryinja’s three eldest children attended. One of his Sergeants held up the pictures of the children. Bupendra wanted to be sure they didn’t miss them in passing as they rolled up, even though according to the time, they should be in classrooms right now.

They were in black SUVs, ironically, just like their unknown opponents. These were the men of the Giddhon, a secret group within the Shahi Rhakavali (Royal Guard) who did such dirty work for Halaganda. In the world of Jaraguptan dirty politics, it was necessary to have such a unit in order for Halaganda and his cronies to keep on top of the other agencies and services of the Jaraguptan government and military. These men didn’t stand guard at gates and towers, they only operated in the shadows and were hand picked from the most ruthless of the Royal Guard.

Currently, it was just the two SUV’s, while two others were speeding to Chidiyaki Pukaar (Bird’s Call), in order to get the rest of the unlucky Major’s family. That detail was headed by Captain Akash Madhvan, the senior most of this Giddhon cell, as their leader, Major Aadesh Yathavan, was currently preoccupied by tasks more pressing with the coup.

Bupendra didn’t even bother to use his cell to communicate to the other vehicle. They would be ready, and if only a beat behind him and his crew in the first vehicle as they stepped out. The two drivers stayed put, as they would need to maneuver in fast, assuming the crew might meet resistance. The men of the second vehicle, all garbed in black, fanned out to form a security cordon at key points around the school grounds. Bupendra and his men wore civilian suits instead of Shahi Rhakavali uniforms. It wouldn’t do to have observers see men of the Royal Guard drag children kicking and screaming from a school. Even now, as all the cards were being laid out on the table, they still wanted to maintain something of a respectable image.

They crossed the fairly busy street, their glares at other drivers enough to stop vehicles quick and put a halt to the honking of horns. Then they were at the gate. Bupendra pressed the buzzer underneath the intercom.

“Namaste! Aap kaun hain krpaya?”

“Official Government Business. Let us in.”
Bupendra held a badge up to the camera swiveling on them from a post above.

The gate buzzed and they violently shoved it open so that it banged against the fence. They marched forward. The men in black from the second vehicle rushed in behind them to fan out towards the other doors.

---

521 Chidiyaki Pukaar Lane
Shantpani Neighbourhood
Mavala, Capital District

The tires of the special matt black SUV screeched violently as the vehicle sped through the tight corners and turns of the quiet neighborhood, with the armed gunmen inside being as revved up as the vehicle's engines. They all knew full well that there was an extremely good chance of hitting contact within the next few minutes, and that always meant that there was a chance that one or more of them would never again enjoy the warm embrace of a woman, or revel in the taste of good food or drink, never be invigorated by their favorite song again. Everyone prepared themselves different mentaly before possible contact, and Dagon had invented his own rituals by now. He would triple check that all his gear were fastened correctly and were in their various stages of preparedness - especially his rifle and sidearm. As for the nagging voice in his head telling him that death was approaching - he would always ignore that bastard, as there was no point in stressing about that. If he was to die soon, he would have nothing left to stress about anyway.

As the vehicle approached the target house at 521 Chidiyaki Pukaar, Dagon squinted his eyes for battle indicators in the area, checking specifically for the unmissable sign of trouble, which in this case could range from anything like armed uniformed soldiers, or civilian-clad players.

The street appeared peacefully quiet, typical for this time of day - a good sign. The SUV came to a halt on the green lawn of 521 Chidiyaki Pukaar, with the crew disembarking immediately. Dagon and Georgie immediately approached the front door whilst Peter and Carl remained with the vehicle, sticking an arms length away from their assault rifles resting within the vehicle.

---

Gabajaram Academy
Shantpani Neighbourhood
Mavala, Capital District

The second vehicle containing Dagon's gunmen approached the Gabajaram Academy much slower when compared to Dagon's mad dash towards 521 Chidiyaki Pukaar Lane, as they needed to maintain some sense of Opsec - as a black SUV racing towards and near a school tended to attract immediate unwanted attention.

Johnathan Clarkson, the unofficial "squad commander" of this private detail spotted trouble as they neared their target - two black SUV's parked opposite the school grounds, with men in suits looking very alert blocking off entryways at the grounds. The men had the look of step-up bodyguards, which was a dead giveaway considering the intel which the team had received (which was that elite lads were about to grab the kids). These punters had to be it.

Clarkson commanded the driver to pull off to the side of the road, approximately 70 meters behind the parked target vehicle. Clarkson decided that they had to wait for the players to exit the school with the kids in tow, as they could not risk getting involved in a gunfight inside a school. They would have to do it on its porch instead.

Whilst waiting, the team readied both their individual rifles and sidearms - they knew that serious drama was imminent. They also prayed that their parked vehicle would be written off by the sentries as just a random bodyguard prepping to pick up some rich dudes kid from school.

---

Bupendra walked up to the desk in the lobby, once inside the school. They could just scour the school classroom by classroom, but why not have the school staff work with them, instead of against them?
He looked at the secretary, and again laid out his credentials.
“This is a very important Shahi Rhakavali matter. We need Bagheera Vamataryinja’s children all gathered up here rapidly.”

Despite two of his men right behind him, the secretary didn’t seem very phased. He had to commend her for her calm.
“Yes, um…what is this about now? Why is Mr. Vamataryinja not here to pull them out of class?”

Bupendra put on his most sinister look.
“You are asking too many questions for which you don’t have clearance. He is busy. We’re his colleagues. His children aren’t safe, so we’re here to take them to a safe place. That’s all you need to know. We have minutes. Please move, or we will be forced to treat you as non-cooperative.”

“We…we need to call to verify your ID. I need to get the Head Master here. He is the only one authorized to let anyone besides parents pull kids out of class…You need…”

“We don’t have time for any of that. I will take this as a refusal to cooperate.”
Instead of pulling out his gun, which would cause more commotion and chaos if he shot her, kids spilling out of classrooms and making their job tougher, he slipped out a blade. He grabbed one side of the woman’s head, gripping her ear. As she reacted and reached up, trying to peel his hands away with both of hers, he plunged the blade into the opposite temple from the side where he had grabbed.
It was an old, but trusty trick.

She let out a small squeak instead of the shriek that had wanted to escape her lips. Then she collapsed in a heap behind the desk. A cascade began to pool out from her head.

Bupendra pointed off in both hallway directions. “Go!”
His men frantically fanned out, knowing they were nearly out of time.

He followed one of the men, working the opposite side as they both peeked into windows, scanned, then quickly moved to the next. Time was now of the essence before classes let out, or a child or staff member discovered the secretary’s body. They could muscle their way through if they had to, but it would waste more time and draw too much attention to the secret Royal Guard unit. More than one stabbed secretary, anyway.

They heard from the other hallway.
“I see one!”

---

Chidiyaki Pukaar Lane
Shantpani Neighbourhood
Mavala, Capital District

Captain Akash Madhvan was in the first vehicle, with another of their dark SUVs directly behind. They were racing, as the Colonel had stated that they needed this leverage on the Major urgently. Failure was not an option. The Giddhon Captain slapped the driver within a second of spotting the other car up on the lawn of the target house.
The driver immediately began a slow mash on the brakes, while the driver behind tried to also do a controlled braking, but a little squeal of rubber emitted from the tires as he was a beat late on timing.

Had Bupendra gotten mixed up and gone to the wrong assignment, hitting the house instead of the school? As they slowed, he brought up his radio to call Bupendra, then stopped…

He squinted to look at the bumper. The license plate meant nothing. He was looking for the telltale dark grey sticker that should be on the corner of the black bumper indicating fellow Giddhon. It was not there. It wasn’t their truck.
Who the fuck had beat them to the house?

He continued to bring up the radio but didn’t switch over to the B Team channel. Instead he radioed to the back car.
“That’s not ours! Guns up!”

The Giddhon men scattered from the vehicles, SMGs and ARs up and ready to fire. Madhvan carried a shotgun, leaving his pistol holstered. They spread out, crouch-walking across the street, up the lawn, and towards the mystery vehicle.

---

The unmistakable sound of hardworking engines and squeaking rubber on asphalt drew the immediate attention of Peter and Carl as they stood by their vehicle, easily spotting the two black SUV's coming to a halt down the street, with a number of heavily armed players piling out. Common sense dictated that these were the would-be kidnappers, without a shadow of a doubt.

Without further hesitation, the two men grabbed their already prepared CSR-21 Assault Rifles from the vehicle's interior, rapidly took aim, using their vehicle as cover, and opened fire down range. As the first shots were fired, the duo felt fairly confident with their odds of surviving this ordeal, as they had the benefit of cover, whilst their opponents were in the open, plus they had the advantage of having fired first, granting them the benefits of surprise.

As soon as the shots rang out, Dagon knew that time had run out, and the possibility of completing his mission with a sense of civility had now passed. The door was forced upon, sending pieces of wood and metal shattering into the atmosphere. Dagon and Georgie knew that they had to make quick work of finding and securing the occupants of the dwelling, whilst his lads outside kept their enemies outside at bay.

---

Gabajaram Academy
Shantpani Neighbourhood
Mavala, Capital District

Once Johnathan Clarkson was satisfied that his crew were all completely 'bombed up' for contact, he decided that they needed to act, and they needed to act immediately. He had decided that his original plan of waiting for the players to exit the school with their hostages en tow before engaging them, had left too many variables. The biggest concern for Jonathan was the fact that the two target vehicles were in play - which would mean that if the punters did somehow make it from the school's exit, across the street and into their vehicles, they were gone. Thus, the vehicles needed to be removed from play, immediately.

The team's vehicle started up again, joining the busy street, moving towards the two parked target SUV's, which were idling on the opposite end of the school. They were matching the average speed of the general traffic so as to not draw attention, coming to a stop within a parking spot, leaving one open space between them and the first target vehicle. A quick glance over confirmed that the first vehicle at least, only contained the driver. The remainder of the vehicle crew were obviously either inside the school, or guarding an entrance to the school. Johnathan figured that with a little bit of skill and a ton of luck, they could off the drivers without the perimeter punters noticing, and that could change the game into their favor. The crew took a collective deep breath, for luck and courage as Johnathan gave a simple nod, indicating that it was go-time.

---

521 Chidiyaki Pukaar Lane
Shantpani Neighbourhood

As the Giddhon men took fire, they sped up, forming a half circle as they closed in on the vehicle.

Immediately, two had been hit, one fatally in the neck. The mortally wounded man stumbled and lay still. The other one fell, hit in the side and shoulder. He crawled towards his dropped SMG, the shoulder wound leaving a slick of blood on the grass. The side round hadn’t penetrated but it had knocked the wind out of him a bit. They wore kevlar vests, but they were not quite the same as battle ready plate carriers, made to withstand heavy fire.

The rest of their comrades closed in as they let loose a fusillade of fire on the car. Captain Madhvan blasted away twice with his shotgun, but then ran back towards one of the vehicles for cover, as he hadn’t made it too far from them.
The men tried to close in on the vehicle and the two defenders like a vice, the half circle squeezing as both sides turned into more of a ‘V’. All the while, they were emptying clips at Dagon’s men and the vehicle, even if they didn’t have a clear shot.

Captain Madhvan debated calling for backup, but was hesitant because of the feared response from the Colonel at initial failure.

---

Peter and Carl attempted to make themselves smaller targets by using their vehicle as cover, in response to the heavy rate of fire landing in their proximity, and smashing into their bullet proof vehicle. The duo was quite impressed, and pissed off at the same time, by the measure of how well these punters were handling the ambush. They were obviously dealing with some proper step-up fighters.

Carl focused his aim towards the man crawling on the grass, who was clearly hit but not out for the count yet, but was an easy, slow moving, open target. Peter on the other hand, realized that they were being flanked, which was about to turn their bad day into a terrible day. In response, he switched his rifle to fully automatic, throwing fire down-range at tremendous pace, hoping to get some kills, or at least pinning the punters down.

Meanwhile inside the house, Dagon realized that his men outside were in deep trouble, judging by the tremendous rate of fire which could be heard, and ordered Georgie to provide support as he continued to round up the Major's family, at gunpoint at this stage, as there was zero time left to convince them to follow him in diplomatic fashion.

Georgie rushed to the window, using the wall as cover as he started engaging the open targets outside, firing the first volley through the window, with the glass shattering into every conceivable compass direction.

This post was co-authored with Jaragupta

[The Cardwith Islands]

ISVC HQ
Mehatar, Jaragupta

As network communication was re-established with the main ISVC force on Gahana, Fodenka finally learned of his promotion to Brigadier General. He was quietly pleased, but continued to operate as he had the whole time during his stay in Jaragupta, like a leader men trusted.

Everything had finally come together and the Cardwithian General was encouraged to see that even with the questionable resources of the HDLF, they could maybe pave the way to break the stalemate that had been in effect between ISVC forces entrenched in the People’s Republic of Gahana, and the imperialist forces in Jaragupta.

The airstrike he had called for through the old convoluted network back to Gahana had finally arrived and while he couldn’t see the hotel filled with the mercenary lackeys of the Kingdom crumble, he could see the dust clouds billowing up from here as the missiles and bombs found their mark. All that would be left would be for the mercenary destroyers in the harbor to meet the same fate. While geysers of water were being reported, he wasn’t yet sure if they had scored any hits on the Varangian Guard ships.

He was well aware of the implications that Cardwithians were involved in an attack on Falkasian nationals. The two nations had been close allies for many years, and the Falkasians had been the main force to drive them to their independence from Hutanjia, so it did seem like a betrayal. As a higher placed officer, he was very aware of the connections between the Varangian Guard and the FSIS. Still, they had thrust themselves here, into a Guild supporting mission to prop up an imperialist, oppressive state that was trying to wipe out the Cardwithian and ISVC ally, the Hamikhs of the HDLF. They were mercenaries and they were here for the fat paychecks. So, that was ultimately on them and there would be no apologies from Norritts.

Elsewhere, HDLF battalions were holding in open battle in the streets and surrounding suburbs as they pushed off the reinforcements being sent by the Jaraguptan command and the Guild mercenaries. In all the years they had been in rebellion against the government, they had never fought standing battles and actually won.

The last major battle fought between the HDLF and their ISVC advisors and the Jaraguptan forces and their allies, mostly Guild mercenaries, was some months ago at the Battle of Mulayam Pathar, referring to the mountain range to the west of Mehatar. They had been pummeled there, coming to the aid of besieged units trying to bring supplies over the Tamanna River, the major dividing body of water between the north and south of Jaragupta. The HDLF and their allies had really believed they could teach the JRA and mercenaries a lesson in trying to lock down the river, and in turn had been schooled by how prepared the Imperialists were in flexing their might.

The situation had changed now, however.
The fact that the Imperialist government was in the middle of fighting off an internal coup in Mahala probably didn’t help them. Mehatar was holding on and remaining strong as a bastion of socialist freedom under the HDLF banner.

General Fodenka made a decision as he received the reports and continued to observe. The bold won the day, not the meek. He didn’t get that Diarcesian commander, Flecken, on the phone, but he did talk to the Mubatan fellow, Major Sandanezwe, who had become part of the ISVC command council there in Gahana City. There was some question as to who had authority between Gahana City and Mehatar, but he was certain clear heads would prevail there. They needed to respect his command. Flecken was just an interim commander, after all, until communications had been restored. Fodenka was not one to question Bratislava (the ISC HQ) in their decisions, but their choices as of late had been…odd.

This was it! Now was the time to act. They needed to mobilize all available ISVC forces, minus those that should remain to defend Gahana, and get them on the fleet, and move south, hitting the underbelly of Jaragupta while they had the support. It took another call to let them know he was serious and they didn’t have time to debate, but by the second call, things were rolling.

Meanwhile, on Gahana, they began to ferry the troops organized for the liberation back out to the ISVN fleet. Some were already there, as they had left a third of the troops on fleet ships in just this eventuality, rotating them out every few weeks with units who had been able to enjoy island time and fresh air on the Island. Now they would all be loaded up for the trip south, and then a hard right west, hooking up to hit the underbelly of Jaragupta in the heart of Hamikh country.

The beach head already existed. It had been hard fought and won with HDLF blood, along with a little bit of ISVC advisor blood. They had battered the lackeys and thug troops of the Rajah away from the jewel of Hamikh civilization. The environs of Mehatar were open and ready to accept their socialist brethren, but maybe for just a little while longer. The capitalist thugs were battering the gates and the window would not remain open for much longer. All that remained was to ensure that the Falkasian mercenary ships were broken and sunk to the bottom of the harbor. If the first strike hadn't achieved that, the lead ships of the ISVN fleet and more bombers would. He wished they had anti-ship missiles ashore here to help do the trick, or even some well packed drones, but they were all on Gahana. Anything like that in the main Kingdom was in enemy hands.

While Brigadier Fodenka counted on several squadrons of the ISVCAF to pave the way, a lot of them were running interception against the Gauls, Guild, and JRAF fighters and defending Gahana airspace. They would need to call on assets of ISVC members further afield. The North American Commonwealthers stood up to the call, mustering their bombers and escorting fighters to do the work of plastering the supporting Imperialist air defenses, supply depots, massed ground defenses, and other targets that stood in the way of a successful invasion.

[Post War America]

Air Force Base Hetairoi, Briefing Room A
03:30

“What the hell are we doing here skipper”?

The question hung in the air and shook Captain Alec Newton out of his stupor. A full two thirds of Strategic Bombing Squadron 101 “the Firedrakes” had been called in at o’dark thirty for a briefing that nobody had any idea was happening, and most of the pilots and air crew hadn’t the chance to obtain a vital supply of coffee. The ground crews on the other hand looked like they’d been hollowed out by an all-nighter working on the squadron’s bombers. Newton rubbed the sleep fully out of his eyes before regarding his Second in Command, a small brunette by the name of Flight Lieutenant Isabel de Souza, who seemed usually animated at this early hour.

“Hell if I know Viz. Whatever it is though, I don’t think it's a routine maritime patrol”.

“Piensa que vayamos hit the Imerians for real este tiempo”?

The Squadron had been making a few discreet practice runs preparing for the possibility in the past months to launch a decapitation strike against the Royal Imeriatan Navy, in particular massed nuclear attacks to obliterate the few Fasan class ships that had survived war with the C’Tan. That however, was the whole squadron.

“Don’t think so, we’re missing half the aircrews. Speaking of, where the hell are the other four”?

De Souza was about to speak up when the room was called to attention. The Base Commander, one Brigadier Rodrigo Tully, was followed in by a much younger liaison officer with unit patches Newton had never seen before. Once they had reached the center podium Tully gave a nod, which served as his usual means of indicating that his troops could stand... or sit... at attention.

“Now I bet you all want to know why I called you all here”. Tully spoke with a cadence and diction that was more formal than his normal, and completely free of the strange Spanglish he usually spoke.

Most of the air crews nodded silently. The ground crew was too tired to affect any response.

“Right. Well, allow me to introduce Major Stephen Cruz”.The young liaison stopped forward, ramrod straight, and quite a bit taller once he assumed center stage. He flicked a switch on the podium awakening the graphical display. A series of pictures showing off small military bases on a tropical island and an eclectic fleet of warships spread on the wall behind the officers at the front.

“Good morning. For those who’ve never met me before I am acting as official liaison for the International Socialist Volunteer Corps, acting in this case for Major Toshi Imahara. For a number of months, there have been troubles in Jaragupta. Our comrades in the ISVC have been supporting socialist rebels opposed to the government forces. Recently, the conflict has escalated, and is approaching, or already at a point where it can be considered a full and proper conventional conflict. Members of the ISVC have requested a major strike against pro-government forces in an attempt to clear the way for a major assault by ISVC forces. Our own government however, has requested that this operation remain as small as possible in order to limit possible Commonwealth casualties. To that end Strategic Bombing Squadron 101 will be responsible for delivering the strike. I will now turn you back over to your commander for a full briefing”.

Tully took back the stage, seemingly more relaxed, but only slightly.

“Alright folks, so you got the politics, now let’s talk more in detail about Operation Ancalagon’s Fury. Apologies beforehand, but we won’t have an opportunity to drill before conducting it”. He fiddled with the controls of the podium, clearly still somewhat uncomfortable with the stranger in their midst.The display started to roll out the technical details for the briefing including attack vectors, information on allied assets, and more detailed information about the targets.

“At 05:30 today, four craft from SBS 101, to be referred to as Firedrake 1, Firedrake 2, Firedrake 3, and Firedrake 4, will sortie out from this air base. You will then carry out a 44 hour flight to these coordinates and rendezvous with an element from the CNS Vanguard. This element will consist of fighters from the Vanguard’s own Air Wing who will be amalgamated into Ad-Hoc Fighter Squadron Drakewarden, and AWACS Thunderbird. You will form a combined element with these forces and transit to these coordinates, rendezvousing with aerial refueling assets at approximately 05:00 in two days so that Drakewarden and Thunderbird can refuel.

After refueling is complete, at approximately 06:00 Drakewarden will form an advance element to provide forward cover for Firedrake and Thunderbird. You will move in this vector for twenty-five more minutes before approaching Jaragupta. At these coordinates, you will launch and fire all of your strike missiles as a single salvo. Firedrake 2 is responsible for attacking land based air force bases” Tully became slightly more animated “here, here, and here. Firedrake 3 will attack these bases on the South of the Island, Firedrake 4 will target these bases, and Firedrake 1 is responsible for engaging hostile naval assets, paying special attention to mercenary assets in Mehetar. Once all air to ground assets, and if hostile air forces are confirmed in the area, both members of Firedrake are allowed, and encouraged even to use up to half of their air to air missile assets to engage hostile air forces and assist Drakewarden. You are expected however, to disengage from your attack run on the island as soon as all ordinance has been used. Thunderbird will be responsible for guiding all ordinance in on datalink, and Drakewarden is supposed to protect all heavy assets. Needless risk to Firedrake is strongly discouraged”. Tully became even more uncomfortable.

“This mission is intended to be a limited risk strike on behalf of the Commonwealth”. A number of military police came around handing out cyanide pills.

“This means that if you are captured you cannot expect to be rescued unless our comrades in the ISVC liberate you. I will not order you to kill yourselves if captured, but if you, in good conscience do not wish to be captured alive, you are allowed to use this capsules. This will not be seen as a dishonorable suicide. Lastly, per the Directive on Low Technology Civilizations, we are to avoid technological pollution to the greatest extent possible. Research indicates that Jaragupta and its surroundings are operating at a technical level equivalent to the early 2020s. This means all technological artifacts deemed beyond this level are to be removed from your craft before embarking.”

The staff in the briefing room stood.

“Dismissed”. The room slowly began to accrue chatter. De Souza looked at Newton, who had just found the other four members in his crew who had snuck in back, late.

“Esta pasando, we’re actually hitting real targets.” she said quietly.

“Looks like.” Newton replied. “Get the others in shape, I want all you on board at 05:15”.

Air Force Base Hetairoi, Hangar DH-2
05:15

Captain Newton stood at the threshold in the Hangar DH-2, an enormous construct built to service his own personal craft. He stared at Firedrake 2, giving it an impromptu assessment of the ground crew’s work as he went. The enormous LY-912 ‘Dragonhawk’ bomber stood proudly in its hangar, its wing pylons laden with cruise missiles, and members of the ground crew scrambling to stuff the last few missiles in its belly, an especially dangerous proposition seen as the reactors would no doubt have been warmed up at this point.

Newton appreciated the Dragonhawk, despite possessing technology that by Commonwealther standards was decades out of date, those Lyran designers had a knack for scale, building some truly enormous pieces of equipment. Having seen the preparations for his bomber completed to his satisfaction, he climbed into the great beast himself. The cabin had already been heated to perfection at the behest of his XO, who was patting his seat as the other members of his crew sat busily at their stations.

“Hola skip, just as hot as you like eh”? Newton smiled slightly.

“Yeah Viz. Just fine. Good job whipping the crew into shape”. He heard a scoffing noise from one of the crew stations.

“Listen up team. I need you all on deck until we’re at cruising altitude, then most of you bums can go back to bed. Phillips, you're stuck on duty though”. There was a staccato choir of affirmation.

“Skip. Torre’s calling on us necesitamos que get going”.

“Alright, let’s get this puppy airborne”. Newton sat down at the controls slowly throttling the conventional engines, the roar of the jets joining the gentle hum of the nuclear reactor in the cabin. He put his headset on.

“Tower this is Firedrake 2, performing final systems check now”. There was brief static before tower responded.

“Firedrake 2, reading you 5 by 5, perform a pre-flight check”. Newton and his crew went down the list of systems needed to keep the enormous bird airborne and mission ready. At the conclusion, tower affirmed readiness.

“Tower to Firedrake 2, proceed to runway 1. Be advised there is a southwesterly wind of 5 knots and visibility is 10 kilometers.” Newton affirmed, throttling up the jet engines on his craft slowly rolling it out of the hangar. The great beast lurched forward taking several seconds to pull away from the hangar. In front of Newton was their wingmate for the mission, Firedrake 1, whose wingtips were laden with supersonic anti-shipping missiles. As the two craft rolled from the taxiway and onto the main runway, there was a foreboding sense of calm. The order came through to standby for take off, as Firedrake 1 pulled readied itself to take off. Even though they were in a sealed cabin, the roar of Firedrake 1’s chemical engines could be heard clearly as the Dragonhawk launched itself down the runway.

“Tower to Firedrake 2, prepare for takeoff”. Newton rolled his own craft into the ready position, readying himself a brief second before pushing the throttle to its limit. The entire cabin seemingly lurched backward as the bomber rocketed forward. Newton yanked hard on the stick, the Dragonhawk struggled to get off the ground, its enormous bulk proving unwilling to defy the law of gravity for a worrying amount of time. As the bomber approached the end of the runway however it did manage to get airborne. As it did, he could hear the hum of the nuclear reactor begin to pick up in intensity as it began final preparation for turnover to nuclear ramjets. Ten minutes later as the Dragonhawk pushed higher into the atmosphere, Newton triggered the shift, feeling another burst of speed as the nuclear engines kicked on, before cutting off the conventional engines. He leaned back, gently guiding the bomber into its cruising altitude, and getting ready for the long flight to their next target.

“Alright crew, you all can get some rest, it's gonna be a long flight to the target”.

International Waters, Two Days Later
01:05

In fairly typical fashion, the Firedrake squadron was almost five minutes late for its rendezvous, having been slowed by especially strong oceanic winds. However they arrived, and thankfully the extra time had given their escorts time to get fully airborne and organized. A casual readout of the IFF indicated that Drakewarden included twenty F-32 Cyclones, and four EF-32 Spark Cyclones. A solid force of fifth generation aircraft this was. Newton however, had apprehensions, going up against several mercenary forces, and the air force of an entire nation seemed beyond the capabilities of this impromptu escort force, especially seen as his own Dragonhawk was perhaps one of the least subtle aircraft yet devised. At this point radio silence was briefly broken with a patchy communique from the AWACS.

“Task Group Ancalagon, this is AWACS Thunderbird, please provide radar and targeting information for upload to datalink”. Several members of Drakewarden responded in the affirmative before Newton had the chance to say something. He got on the radio and replied.

“Thunderbird this is Firedrake 2, standby for upload”. He spun around in his seat looking at the EW tech, Cris Martinez. “Matinez, get on that”. Martinez, having only recently come up from the bunks at the rear of the cabin, was slow to act, but did successfully start the data uplink. Thunderbird came back over the air.

“Data uplink for Task Group Ancalagon is complete, radio silence will now be in force until rendezvous with refueling assets”.

The Eurofighter Cyclones of Drakewarden took up escort positions around their larger charges, with a few flying well ahead. So far, so good, they had not seen any hint of interceptors, though they were still well outside the detection radius of hostile assets. The time was fast approaching when it would be all hands on deck, still, Newton hadn’t slept in almost a day, so he turned to de Souza.

“Viz you’ve got the con. I’m gonna take a nap”.

“Vale skip, see you en très". Newton nodded, turning control over to de Souza before rising from his chair. He walked slowly back to the bunks where half the crew was getting some last minute shuteye. He set an alarm before collapsing into his bunk.

International Waters, Four Hours Later
05:10

Newton had just woken up, they had lost yet another five minutes to the wind. If this continued to be a problem they might have to move uncomfortably close to Jaragupta to ensure their missile’s guidance systems still had power when reaching their targets. This would mean the fighter pilots would have to work harder to keep the Dragonhawks clear. As they were approaching the target area, Newton needed everyone on deck. He activated the internal comms.

“Yellow alert I repeat yellow alert, all crew to stations”. There was audible groaning from the bunks. Clearly some could have used more rest. However they did comply with orders, and were at their stations within a few minutes. One of the flight engineers, Toye was however, noticeably missing his service boots, sitting down at his station barefoot.
“Toye, since you’re not in fighting shape at the moment, go and get everyone some coffee while you get your shoes on”. Toye nodded. The Cyclones were taking a long time refueling, but it looked like the last ones were finally getting fueled up. After they had, several took up escort positions around their charges.Toye was making the rounds delivering coffee, and Newton had just gotten his when the last one finally completed the job. As the tankers pulled away, Newton remarked

“Well, only a couple more hours now”.

International Waters, One hour later
06:00

Pilot Officer Gadsden had been flying for several hours already, but there were several more to go. Thankfully in the briefing, they had been instructed that they wouldn’t have to return all the way to the Vanguard, instead landing on the island. Still he was somewhat nervous. Just twenty fighters up against potentially hundreds if they didn’t get the drop on the opposition. His flight lead, Captain Robles, flashed lights from his cockpit. It took Gadsden a few seconds to recognize the lights as morse code and process the message. It was time to move ahead, and he had been given the order to tell the Bomber crews. He fumbled around in his cockpit look for his own tactical light and codebook as he pulled into view of the command module of the leading Dragonhawk, and started using his light.

Drake... Warden... forming... advance... element... he then saluted the Dragonhawk’s pilot. The commander offered a salute of his own. Gadsden moved forward, throttling up his own aircraft. Meeting up with the rest of his flight, they moved well ahead of the Dragonhawks. The attack was going forward now. It would be only five minutes before the enormous Dragonhakws entered the expected range of EWR. Gadsden only hoped they could get far enough ahead in their stealthiness, especially relative to the Dragonhawks, that they could deliver a good first strike against interceptors.

[USG Security Corporation]

Mehatar Grande
Downtown Mehatar, Jaragupta

Captain Olsen walked down the main hall of the third floor, checking in on rooms to make sure that everything was going alright. It seemed like the Jaraguptan Army drivers had finally started to sober up a bit and were realizing the gravity of the situation. It was a wonder that the Varangian Guard contractors weren’t trying to kill them for drinking up a good part of their alcohol provisions. With their current situation, the J-Gups, as Davis and Haas liked to call them, might have had the right idea, after all. Enjoy life while you could, drink it up and eat it all as you couldn’t take it with you. Personally, Geirmund understood that, but as a Team Commander, he couldn’t accept that lack of discipline.

The Jaraguptans were getting plenty of practice getting back to their basic long arms training, as it was a target rich environment out those windows with dozens upon hundreds of HDLF rebels running around and still trying to take pot shots at the Hotel windows. Having an experienced Guild shooter teamed up with each of them helped, as they could coach them on their shots, but even without coaching, it was tough for them not to get lucky a good portion of the time.

Olsen literally didn’t have time to ponder the matter further as yet again, they were pummeled by what seemed to be another barrage of artillery. He was picked up and launched down the hall by a gust of dust, hot air, and debris, as he struggled to keep his mouth open to equalize the immense blast pressure. Then it was lights-out again as he slammed into a far wall, leaving a good size dent in it as he slid down. He was still alive and breathing, but anyone looking at him in his current state certainly wouldn’t be able to tell by the layer of debris on him and the dozens of cuts on his exposed skin from flying glass and said debris.

---

Corporal Jermaine Albemarle was a very affable fellow and always eager to make new friends, both within the USGSC and among their Guild comrades. He was busy talking the ears off his new comrades in the room, although he was also thinking that he wanted to talk more with his new friend from the SSI group, if he could find his OP location in the Hotel…
“What was his name again?”

It was the last thought that Albemarle would ever have as the corner room on the 4th floor of the Hotel that he, two VG troopers, and two Jaraguptan transporters occupied was one of the main impact sites of one of the bombs from the attacking ISVC aircraft. Instead of the bomb driving through, it was set to explode on impact. Lucky for those further in on the 4th floor, but unlucky for the defenders in that corner room who were instantly vaporized.

Little did the Guild team know that this was not another ISVC/HDLF artillery barrage, but the arrival of the ISVC’s aircraft munitions penetrating the Hotel like it was a paper lantern.

---

“Guns up!” Kirves screamed, vaulting over a partially dismantled computer array while scrambling to pull on her ballistic helmet.

A rain of concrete dust fell from the ceiling as the entire building heaved. The lights flickered off briefly, came back on, then died entirely, leaving the entire ground floor dark save for the external light pouring through cracks in the plywood covering the doors and windows. Far, up above, they could hear nothing but the sounds of collapsing masonry. It sounded like a horror movie monster slowly encroaching on its prey; deeper and deeper rumbling moving closer and closer.

Outside, the static defenses were already whirring to life. In fact, they had been active the entire time but otherwise droned out by the general chaos of ongoing battle. Truck-mounted CIWS turrets pumped three thousand rounds per minute at any number of swarming targets, attempting to prioritize incoming munitions over the aircraft delivering them. Two of the four turrets had already expended their entire stockpile of loaded ammunition, pivoting and spinning their barrels aimlessly, attempting to fire until they glowed red-hot and liquefied into slag.

Two incoming bombs were intercepted, detonating with immense force just above the building itself. While the explosive charge went off, the shrapnel resulting from it did not, and pelted the ground at terminal velocity. Two Varangian Guard technicians, exposed attempting to reload the empty turrets, were shredded into meaty pulp by a thousand tiny cuts before another detonation in the courtyard vaporized their workstation and turret. A huge crater was carved deep into the circular driveway that led up to the front of the hotel, effectively blocking any avenue of vehicular retreat into or back through the front gate. The crater slowly filled with water as an underground sewer line ruptured, sending an enormous filthy gray-brown geyser into the area.

“Fourth floor is compromised. The north and east sides have collapsed!” Came a voice, somewhere, amid the din.

A huge plume of dust and vaporized debris erupted down the main staircase as the building shook again, and then an even louder rumble came crashing down. Eelin was knocked to the floor, as were most of her counterparts and their computing equipment. Their room, which immediately prior had been dark beyond compare, was now suddenly bathed in dusty light. Through squinted eyes, she could see an enormous hole in the ceiling, and as she followed it up, three floors of penetration until blue sky could be seen above. An arm and Varangian Guard armband, severed from its owner, dangled in the gap between the second and first floors and dripped blood in a subtle, rain-like pitter patter. On the ground floor, a pile of masonry had decapitated another operator. His lifeless body was doubled over, chest-first and impaled one some exposed rebar. On the far walls were splatters of charred blood and sticky flesh, likely more casualties who were vaporized upon detonation.

She steeled herself, struggling to push beyond the concussion the impact had caused. Her ears rang, and her eyes refused to focus. In the dusty light, any semblance of reality was lost. Desperately, she reached out with both hands to try and steady herself; to try and find anything tangible, physical, or real to grab hold of. There were shapes in the dark. Shapes coming towards her. Hands reached down to grasp her by her plate carrier, and hoisted her up.

“Casualties…” she heard, unable to piece together anything other than words and intent. “Bleeding… Shock… Triage… Evacuation.”

They carried her deeper, away from the light and back into the inky depths. Back into hell.

---

Lieutenant Ibrahim Nkume had seen a lot, through many years of war, famine, pestilence, and fear. He had made it through and become a successful soldier, fighting other people’s wars after he had escaped his own people’s war. He had become a trusted, respected, and legendary warrior of the legendary Uli-Schwyz.

Culturally, the Neu Engollians could not have been further from what he understood, but their warrior spirit was some of the strongest he had ever seen for being a ‘neutral, peaceful’ people. They had fought many others’ conflicts for them, knowing that it made the Neu Engollians stronger as much as strengthening the bonds they had with other nations and cultures.

He had time to reflect on all this as he lay half crushed and decimated by hotel debris that had come down on him without being able to register what was happening. It was the fate of the modern warrior that you could be taken out by a missile, bomb, or artillery shell without ever seeing your foe. Something along those lines had now taken him, and he had fleeting minutes before he was to join Allah in paradise.

“Merchant One! Do you read? Merchant One, come in.”

Ibrahim coughed, spattering blood, then responded.
“This is Merchant One. Merchant Team get to the rendezvous.”

“Where are you? We’ll get you.”

Ibrahim looked down the length of his body. A large beam blocked the view of his lower body, but he was pretty certain it had been severed. There was no feeling past his gut. No connection to anything still functioning on his lower body. He felt himself getting colder as the blood flowed out. He had minutes, if even that.
“Negative. I am done. Get yourselves out. Head down and out. This place is done.”

He could hear the building creaking as parts fell inward. There was no way this was just a few random artillery hits. They had been hit by an air strike. Nothing else could do this amount of damage to such an old building constructed in the sturdy, old style. The rebels didn’t have planes, but the ISVC did. The communists were finalizing their invasion of the Kingdom.

“Merchant One, what’s your location?”

“Dammit Taka, I told you I’m done. Don’t waste time on me. Get them out! Clear?”

“Clear, Merchant One. Good luck to you.”

“Too late for that. Good to fight beside you, blood brother.”

“And you, Ibe…blood brother.”

The survivors of Merchant Team, which was three total, led by Senior Sergeant Tetsuo ‘Taka’ Kurisozu, made their way down the floors and joined the rest of the Guild and JRA group heading to the lower tunnels that led underground and away from the collapsing Mehatar Grande Hotel. It was obvious to Korisozu that they had lost a lot of their numbers in the strike, including their Merchant Team leader, Lieutenant Nkume.

---

Mehatar Harbor,
Mehatar, Jaragupta

The relaxed, lowkey atmosphere that had been shipboard duty up until this point had long since evaporated. Now, instead of a loose-neck tropical shirt, Pierre had traded it for a set of combat fatigues and a thick trauma plate holder. He, like the rest of his bridge crew, also donned ballistics helmets and balaclavas, both to help offset the risk of shrapnel damage and to prevent the inevitable flash burns resulting from successful impacts.

The situation was, as one of the Twins put it, suicide. They had come to Jaragupta expecting to be involved in COIN operations, and instead found themselves in the midst of a full scale communist invasion. The irony of the escalation, and how quickly it occurred, was apparent to them, but it did little to diminish the graveness of current events. With the exception of the converted minesweeper-turned-command ship, they had no protection against incoming missiles. Aside, perhaps, from the known and lesser-known quirks of the colonial-era harbor.

“General Quarters! All hands; General Quarters!” came the klaxon call, cut by the flashing red strobes across all three ships as they spooled up their turbines. Crew filtered through the various bulkheads, stowing fire retardant, rebreathers, and spare supplies of oxygen and medical equipment. Out on deck, life rafts were readied and tossed overboard in preparation for the highly-likely instance of evacuation.

“Bogeys have entered the outer dragnet!” a bridger shouted out.

In the same instant, the minesweeper’s CIWS cannon activated. It whirled around its pedestal, tilting and belching sustained fire like a never-ending swarm of mad hornets. Aircraft and missiles alike were sliced apart. Fifty caliber deck guns joined the fray, alongside generally obsolete but not ineffective 20mm anti-aircraft cannons.

“Fleet,” Pierre called over secured radio, “make evasive maneuvers. We can’t outrun them, but we can outmaneuver them!” He paused, collecting his thoughts as a missile flew overhead and slammed into the side of a nearby civilian oiler.

“Stay close to the piers!” he added. “Remember! Anti-ship missiles are designed for open sea engagement… we have the advantage here!”

Not much however. Another missile flew overhead, low enough to activate the ship’s emergency countermeasures, and impacted a cloud of chaff. Shrapnel peppered the bridge crew, piercing the upper bulkhead like steel rain. The ship’s helmsman, alongside the chief weapons officer, dropped to the floor with a thousand cuts. Pierre narrowly missed being chopped in two as the now-inert missile casing careened through a port side window and back out the starboard side.

---

Mehatar Grande
Downtown Mehatar, Jaragupta

Captain Olsen continued to run upstairs to drag more Guild troopers down. He relied on Kirves to figure out who of her people were missing. There were a lot. Some of Haas’ Raven Team joined the mix, but Olsen didn’t see the young NCO herself. Davis’ Hammer Team was also filtering down.
A lot of the Jaraguptan Royal Army transport crew were also missing. It made sense as they didn’t really wear body armor like the contractors, they weren’t protected, unless by hotel furniture, from the flying debris and shrapnel.
He then saw Taka, from Merchant, one what would likely be his last trip down.

“Taka, where’s Ibe?”

“He didn’t make it, boss. It’s you and me and what’s left of Merchant here and Banshee.”

“Damn! Take all the USG folks down into the tunnels. Go! I’m going to wait for the rest.”

Olsen wasn’t fully in charge of all the other Guild personnel, yet he still felt responsible, even if it technically fell on Kirves to take charge. He had dragged them into this trap, or at least he felt that way even if it was just circumstances. It was Kirves’ show because it was her group’s base. The Varangian Guard. There were historical connotations there, but Olsen just didn’t have the time to stop and recall all his matriculation so many years ago.

Captain Geirmund Olsen mentally went over who was left of his team based on who he’d heard from or seen in the last few minutes:
Dave Coleman, Gene Rothas, Gus Weidenmann, Chuck Horowitz, Dev Lagudenji, and Kiril Kalash.

Which meant that Jermaine Albemarle, Vasily Borodin, Alex Scherbina, and Steve Gallaper were down for the count or MIA. Almost 40% casualties. Tough for any leader to take.
They would have to pay respects later.

Horowitz was the last one down. One of the Hammer Team members mumbled to him before he stood before Olsen.
“That’s it, Cap. Upper floors are clear…for anyone coming with, anyway.” Meaning the rest were gone or soon to be.

They began to gather up the wounded from the triage area. Luckily they didn’t have to make too many tough decisions, a couple would have to be stretcher carried and they relegated the JRA drivers to that. The rest who were too wounded to walk with support had passed over the last few hours. A small vanguard of VG and Raven Team people led the way, followed by the wounded and escort, then the last, the rear guard, prepared to enter the tunnel entrance. The building began its final death throes, and they could hear the upper floors start to crash down. Plaster dust was everywhere.

“Move! Move! Let’s Go!” Was echoed by all the Guild leaders. They dashed into the tunnel as the last of the cascading levels of the old hotel were about to smash down on top of them.

[RP Contributed by Falkasia, Wandering Argonians, Shalum, and Jaragupta]