[Earth II] One Reaps what One Sows

[Cotland]

Forward Command Post, Sixth Army
Outskirts of Semjanov, Cottish-occupied Niezgorodskaja
04:52, Wednesday, 24 May 2020

While late-night parties continued in Cottish cities, the Boeing 767-300 VIP airliner operated by the Cottish Government had touched down in Makarjev in the middle of the night to allow the delegation to shift over to a C-130 Hercules tactical transport aircraft that waited to take them the comparatively short hop down to the combat airstrip west of Linda in Occupied Niezgorodskaja. While the cease-fire had gone into effect a few hours ago and seemed to hold for now, the pilots of the Royal Cottish Air Force’s 215 (Transport) Squadron were still at war and taking no chances, meaning that they flew in low, fast and tactical, giving the delegation in the back a bumpy ride they would never forget. After touching down in the grass airstrip of the FARP established by the Sixth Army’s Helicopter Brigade 616 and lowering the rear cargo ramp, the troops had to physically assist a few of the passengers out of the aircraft. After a few minutes of breathing and vomiting, even the more sensitive members of the delegation were escorted to the vehicles that waited to bring them to the Sixth Army’s forward field headquarters.

Twenty kilometers further northeast and the same amount of minutes later, the six-person delegation were escorted into the field army’s combat headquarters. Established in a school building in the outskirts of the occupied city of Semjonov, Sixth Army had been in the location for almost a week now, which was enough time for the Cottish soldiers to get settled down and make it cozy. Colonel General Kristoffer Munthe, Commanding General, Sixth Army had made sure to freshen up and put on a fresh field uniform in anticipation of this meeting, and looked soldierly and stout as he welcomed the delegation as they were escorted into the Commanding General’s office, formerly the principal’s office, by the Army Chief of Staff.

“Madam Foreign Minister, Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Semjonov,” Colonel General Munthe greeted them as he motioned for the comfortable sofa group that the previous owner of the office had thoughtfully installed. “I trust the flights were comfortable?”

“From Oslo to Makarjev, quite. From Makarjev onwards, not as, I’m afraid.” The leader of the delegation, Foreign Minister Ine Sørheim said with a tired smirk as she planted herself down in the sofa. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt my guts that intimately as on that flight.”

“Well, you’re here now, and safe. That’s the important thing.” Munthe said with a smile as he pulled over a chair and sat down. “Can I offer you some refreshments? Coffee perhaps?”

“Please.”

With a nod from the General, his adjutant came over with a large pot of coffee and a collection of army metal mugs. After pouring the warm bitter liquid that fueled the Cottish staff at all hours, the adjutant was dismissed, and the delegation left alone with the General.

“What’s the status on the cease-fire?” Foreign Minister Sørheim asked.

“Holding, for now. There’s been a few minor clashes here and there, small units that didn’t get the memo in time, but nothing major enough to warrant breaking the cease-fire. Apart from the two Niezgorodskajan tank divisions attached to the Permian field army up to the northeast, we’re observing a general withdrawal of Niezgorodskajan units across the board. So far, there have not been any attempts of resuming hostilities. Not even artillery shelling. All my subordinate units have been ordered to hold in place and dig into defensive positions for now.” Munthe said. “The Permians are furious and raising unholy hell on the other side of the battlespace though. A new series of ballistic missiles were launched a few hours ago, targeting First Army’s headquarters. They hit the decoy though, and I’m told we got a good bead on where they’re hiding their last remaining launchers. The Air Force is going to pay them a visit any moment now.”

“Okay, good. We’re going to let the Permians do what they feel like doing for now, if it means that we can knock Niezgorodskaja out of this war.” Sørheim replied.

“Indeed. What’s the plan for achieving that?” Munthe asked.

“Well, you and your troops have done most of the work already by getting us this far. Tomorrow, we’re going to go down to the Volga, cross the Patriot’s Bridge, and present our demands to Sardjenski and his cronies. If he agrees, the war is over for Niezgorodskaja. If he doesn’t, it’ll be up to you and your men to make him see the error of his ways.”

“And the demands?”

“The same that they’ve been since day one: Niezgorodskaja’s unconditional surrender. Until the end of the war with the Permians too, Niezgorodskaja is to be under Cottish occupation and administration. The Niezgorodskajan Army is to be disarmed and demobilized. Sardjenski and the Politbureau are to be surrendered to Cottish custody, and anyone involved in the attacks against us pre-war are to be arrested and extradited to Cotland for prosecution.”

“Do you think they’ll accept?”

“If what your man Håland says is true, then it seems like Sardjenski is already a prisoner of this ‘Interim People’s Council’. If he’s given the choice of being in the rebellion’s hands or our hands, I suspect he’ll chose the latter. After all, we won’t suddenly decide to summarily execute him, unlike your typical rebels.”

“Very good. I take it you’ll want some protection going in?”

“If you mean troops, then no. We’ll be sending a more powerful message by going in by ourselves. That we’re so confident of victory that we don’t need close protection by the Army. Furthermore, we’re showing that we expect the diplomatic rules to still apply despite there being a war on.”

Munthe frowned as he sat up straight in the chair. “I can’t say I like it, but if that’s the way you want to play it…”

“It is.” Minister Sørheim said firmly.

“As you wish. I’ll still keep my Rangers at hot standby to go in and get you out if things turn south.”

“While I doubt we’ll need it, I do appreciate the sentiment General.” Sørheim smiled.


Kremlim
Nizhny Novgorod, People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja
09:00, Wednesday, 24 May 2020

At precisely 9 o’clock in the morning, a motorcade approached the heavily guarded Patriot’s Bridge that connected the northwestern part of Nizhny Novgorod on the southern bank of the Volga with the northern bank. A sizable Cottish force had guarded the northern bank of the bridge since the Cottish first reached this area two weeks ago, while a similar Niezgorodskajan force had guarded the southern bank, exchanging potshots, missiles, sniper fire, mortar bombs and general propaganda in the interim. Remarkably, the bridge still stood intact, as neither side had wanted to destroy it if it could be helped as they planned to use it in their respective future plans. Passing through the lines and across the recently cleared minefields that had littered the bridge, the three military utility vehicles flying white flags of truce crossed the bridge unmolested and met up with their escort, a small fleet of Niezgorodskajan police cruisers that flanked the Cottish vehicles and escorted them through the lifeless streets of the capital.

Before long, the motorcade reached the Kremlin and passed into the courtyard of the old fortress. Inside, the Niezgorodskajans had cleaned up the signs from yesterday’s street battle. Stopping in front of the main building, Foreign Minister Sørheim saw that the Niezgorodskajans had formed a guard of honor for her, and that a small delegation were waiting. After exchanging the customary greetings with the welcoming committee from the Interim People’s Council and the Niezgorodskajan People’s Soviet who assured the minister that they were indeed a legitimate part of the government working with the Politbureau, the Cottish delegation were escorted into the building. As part of the Cottish delegation were a camera crew from the Foreign Ministry, who were livestreaming the proceedings via a secure connection back to a select few number of terminals. The Foreign Ministry, Chancellery and Royal Palace in Oslo had their respective terminals, as did Sixth Army’s headquarters where Colonel General Munthe watched closely. One of his criterias for intervening was if the signal was lost and not restored or otherwise notified that things were okay within five minutes of loss of signal.

Entering the same conference room that the previous day’s proceedings had taken place, the Cottish delegation saw that President Sardjenski and five of the permanent members of the Politbureau were present in the room, along with about twenty unknown persons varying in age from their twenties to their sixties, all dressed in what was probably their finest clothes. Contrasting this was the attire the Cottish delegation wore: smart, freshly dry-cleaned, tailor-fitted designer suits from the finest fashion houses in Europe. Foreign Minister Sørheim herself was dressed in a designer dress in the colours of the Cottish flag.

Standing in front of the Niezgorodskajan delegation, the Cottish stood silently and observed for what seemed like a short eternity before the Foreign Minister broke the awkward silence.

“Greetings. I am Foreign Minister Ine Sørheim of the Realm of Cotland, and I speak today on behalf of and with the full authority of His Majesty, Sverre, King and Supreme Warlord of the Realm of Cotland.” Sørheim stated resolutely as she raised her right hand with the palm open in greeting, presenting her credentials in the Cottish fashion: On her right wrist, she wore a relatively thick, solid gold bracelet emblazoned with King Sverre’s personal royal crest – the millennia-old symbol that the Cottish kings had given their envoys for a thousand years, signifying that they spoke with the monarch’s voice and authority. A piece of symbolism that showed to those in the know that the Foreign Minister had been given broad authority by the King and Cabinet.

“On behalf of the People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja, we welcome the honoured delegation of the Realm of Cotland,” one of the unknown persons said in relatively unaccented English. Sørheim noticed that Sardjenski kept silent and kept staring at the polished black marble conference table. “My name is Sergej Kostakov, and I have been asked by the Interim People’s Council to be moderator of this conference. Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”

Nodding in agreement and taking their seats opposite the Politbureau members, the Foreign Minister waited for the Niezgorodskajans to make the first move.

“There has been a minor restructuring in the People’s Republic, as you probably understand,” Mr Kostakov started. “The Politbureau has been expanded by the inclusion of fifty people’s deputies, which I have humbly been selected to be included amongst, and renamed the Interim People’s Council in anticipation of a constitutional change to reflect the political realities. President Sardjenski remains in place as Head of State pending new and free elections.”

Kostakov went on to introduce all Interim People’s Council members, which prompted intense intelligence work back in Cotland, before finally getting to the end of the introductionary rounds. After a brief presentation of the Cottish delegation, they got down to the business at hand.

“The People’s Republic have realized that it has been deceived by its faithless partner in the Confederacy, the Republic of Perm. The Permians pressured us into this war under false pretenses, and in a moment of folly, the previous administration joined. After deliberations, the Interim People’s Council have reached the conclusion that continuing this war is not in the best interests of the People’s Republic nor its people. Therefore, we reached a unanimous decision yesterday to start the process of bringing this terrible war to a mutually acceptable conclusion.” Kostakov said, sweating slightly and tugging subconsciously at his tie. It was obvious that he wasn’t a career politician, though he wasn’t making a too terrible impression.

Nodding to one of her aides, Foreign Minister Sørheim accepted a leather-bound document from one of her aides and offered it to Kostakov.

“His Majesty’s Government shares in the People’s Republic’s interest in seeking a cessation of hostilities between our two nations. However, given the underlying causes of this conflict and the current military situation, the Realm cannot and will not accept a simple status quo ante bellum. Therefore, I respectfully present to you the terms of His Majesty’s Government, as formulated by His Majesty the King in Council. I should add, these terms are non-negotiable.”

Kostakov opened the folder and read them while Foreign Minister Sørheim gave a summary of the demands for the benefit of everyone in the room and the cameras. Kostakov’s skin clearly paled as he read the list of Cottish demands. By the time he had finished and handed the folder over to the other members of the IPC, his perspiration levels were at an all-time high.

“First, the People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja will formally terminate the war by surrendering unconditionally to the Realm of Cotland. The Niezgorodskajan Armed Forces and Security Services will return to their garrisons for disarmament and demobilization under the supervision of His Majesty’s Armed Forces. Officers and NCOs of the Niezgorodskajan Armed Forces and Security Services will be guests at His Majesty’s pleasure as prisoners of war for the duration of the war, while the rank and file of the Army will be demobilized on condition of non-aggression against the Realm and allowed to return to their civilian lives.

“Second, the leadership of the People’s Republic will be detained at His Majesty’s pleasure pending investigation into their role in the illegal attacks upon Cotland prior to outbreak of war. That would include the erstwhile Politbureau and President Sardjenski.

“Third, the People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja will offer full and complete cooperation into the investigation into the illegal attacks upon Cotland prior to outbreak of war, and any person found to be involved in the attacks will be extradited to the Realm for prosecution under due process of law.

“Fourth, the People’s Republic will formally withdraw from its membership in the Confederacy of the Urals and order all its service members currently operating under Confederate command to revert to national control and surrender themselves to the first and best Cottish unit they can locate.

“In return for these most generous terms, His Majesty’s government will implement a mild and benevolent occupation of the People’s Republic for the remaining duration of the war with the Republic of Perm. There will be no excesses made against the people of the People’s Republic nor to private property by His Majesty’s Forces or Government. That this promise will be honored can already be seen in the Niezgorodskajan cities and towns currently under Cottish administration. Recognizing its responsibility as an occupying power under internationally recognized custom, His Majesty’s Government will assume overall responsibility for the safety, security, and providing the necessary lifestuffs and medical care for the people of the People’s Republic.

“Upon the successful and victorious conclusion of the Realm’s prosecution of the war against the Republic of Perm, the Cottish occupation of Niezgorodskaja will come to an end. His Majesty will most graciously permit the people of Niezgorodskaja to hold free and fair elections supervised by third-party independent observers, so that the people of Niezgorodskaja can have their say in what path they will take.

“And finally, a non-aggression pact and a trade pact between the Realm of Cotland and Niezgorodskaja will be drafted and signed after the end of the occupation.

“These are His Majesty King Sverre’s terms. Do you accept?”

Finally, Sardjenski spoke. Well, a deep growl would be a more accurate description. “And what if we don’t?!”

Unfazed, Sørheim answered coldly. “Then the war continues, and may whatever deities you believe in watch over you and have mercy, for His Majesty’s Government shall have none. Until now, we have behaved themselves in an exemplary manner. Would you rather we start burning your remaining cities? Start hitting targets that will have a profound negative affect on civilian infrastructure? Renew our offensive with new strength? Your army already flees before us as we advance. You have very few cards left in the deck, and you know that perfectly well. Any continuation of the war at this point will only increase the civilian suffering. How many more innocents will have to die for you to throw in the towel? A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? A million?” Sørheim sat back in the seat. “Rest assured Mister President. We may be a peace-loving people that are not easily provoked into war, but once we’re at war, we’re all in and playing for keeps. The Confederacy murdered over one thousand three hundred innocent Cottish men, women and children. If you really think we won’t do everything that is in our power to avenge those senseless murders, you’re sadly mistaken. As I speak, half a million furious Cottish soldiers, battle-hardened veterans all, stand just outside this city, waiting for my word to unleash a rain of hellfire and damnation upon you. Many innocent people will suffer and die, and the blood will be on your” – she pointed at all the Niezgorodskajans in the room – “hands. Not ours. You have exactly one chance and one chance only to prevent that happening. And that’s by accepting the extremely generous terms His Majesty is offering you.”

Sørheim rose from her seat, prompting the rest of the Cottish delegation to do the same.

“You have one hour to decide. I suggest you choose wisely.”

With that, Sørheim turned and left the room, her delegation following suit. In their wake, a stunned Niezgorodskajan delegation remained as the hard and decidedly undiplomatic words the Foreign Minister had left them with still ringed in their ears. A moment later, fierce discussions began.

[Cotland]

Nizhny Novgorod, People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja
12:00 - May 25, 2020

The legacy of the People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja ended not with a resounding roar, but rather a frightened whimper. Foreign Minister Sørheim’s convoy had barely made it back across the Patriot’s Bridge to the Cottish-controlled north bank before word came through that the Interim People’s Council had accepted the Cottish demands without reservation. Forty-two minutes had elapsed since the Cottish ultimatum had been issued. By noon, the first of thousands of Cottish troops started pouring over the Patriot’s Bridge, moving in fast to secure key installations within the Niezgorodskajan capital while a series of classified communiqués criss-crossed the secure Cottish communications links between the Cottish forces and the Cottish capital.

Meanwhile, the people of Niezgorodskaja were informed over television and radio that the war was over, and that further resistance would not only be counter-productive, but downright treasonous. The populace was instructed to stay in their homes for the time being and not to provoke the Cottish troops in any way. All Niezgorodskajan units were further instructed to return to their garrisons and prepare for demobilization. Any unit that refused to obey the orders of the General Staff were to be considered as traitors to the Motherland and dealt with accordingly. The reactions were mixed. While many Niezgorodskajan units, already disheartened at the massive losses and continuous retreats they had conducted since the start of the war, some units resolved to keep on fighting despite mass desertions and draconian punishment. A whole fighter aviation regiment that had somehow managed to avoid destruction “defected” to the Permian Republic, scoring a minor propaganda victory for the Permian Army. Regardless, most of the Niezgorodskajan Army was out of the fight.

For the Cottish forces in Niezgorodskaja, it took a little while to reorient towards the new situation, but by nightfall on May 24, Sixth Army had managed to sort out the confusion and get 4 Armoured Corps and 16 Corps turned around and marching east. Crossing the Penza River during the night of the 25th of May, by morning the bulk of 4 Armoured Corps had crossed and started advancing towards the Permian Republic. Further north, 16 Corps began marching on Josjkar-Ola, the capital of the Niezgorodskajan province of Mari-El, seeking to secure the city before pushing north into the Republic of Perm. The Cottish sought to conduct a strategic flanking manouver against the Permian Army, which had been holding the Cottish First Army in relatively static positions for the past week, seeing heavy fighting as the Cottish attempted to unsettle the Permian Army from their prepared defences. The trouble for the Permian Army was that the Niezgorodskajan surrender meant that their entire southern flank was left exposed as the Niezgorodskajan Army laid down its arms. While it meant a two-day roadmarch for 4 Armoured Corps to get the 270 kilometers from the Penza River to the Permian frontier, having three Cottish armoured divisions let off the leash behind the enemy’s front line would be devastating for the entire Permian battleplans. Thus, while 12 Corps was left behind with orders to serve as an occupation force until 10 Corps could be fully mobilized from its garrisons in Ingermannland and Tvermark and transported to Niezgorodskaja to relieve 12 Corps for frontline duty, 4 Armoured Corps followed their orders to “advance to contact” in a classical armoured corps manouver unseen for two decades, with the Verdiske Cavalry Brigade doing as its namesake had since the 1600s, screening 4 Corps as it advanced along three axis. Further north, the Mørnerske Cavalry Brigade did the same with 16 Corps. The Cottish units passed numerous Niezgorodskajan units as they advanced, encountering virtually no resistance. What little resistance was met was swiftly and decisively crushed by the Cavalry and the lead Armoured Brigade before they moved on. The Cottish armoured steamroller was on the move, and there was little that could stop it.

Back in Nizhny Novgorod, the troops entering the city reported that they had control of all key installations by 1900. Almost all installations had been secured and placed under armed guard without incident, apart from the KGB Headquarters at Afonino. The guards there had refused to surrender their post, and it came to a short gunfight between the KGB security detachment and the Cottish rifle company dispatched to secure the place. After bringing the heavy weaponry into play, the KGB guards were fought into submission and the KGB Headquarters captured, albeit at the cost of seven Cottish dead and nine wounded. It had been to buy the staff at the KGB headquarters time to purge their archives of incriminating documents, but the guards were defeated before they could make much headway. While a lot of documents had been shredded and a deletion of the servers had started, the Cottish managed to stop the purge before it got too deep. Within a few months, IT experts would succeed in restoring the server backups and restore almost the entire archive and databases.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

With the capital secure, and Hercules transport aircraft with fighter cover flying in shuttle traffic airlifting troops into the other major cities to secure these until ground convoys could reach them, the Interim People’s Council agreed to a formal surrender ceremony the next day at noon. The ceremony would be televised in both Cotland and Niezgorodskaja, with foreign media delegations invited to participate to cover the ceremony. Taking place in the Kremlin, the scene was set for a vitally important show that would serve as a massive propaganda victory for the Cottish and boost the resolve of the Cottish people, as well as bring home that the war was over for the Niezgorodskajan people.

The ceremony started a little before noon as the resounding sound of a military march could be heard coming from outside the Kremlin. Marching into the complex through the main gate was a Cottish military band leading a delegation of Cottish troops marching into the stronghold of the Niezgorodskajan state with bayonets fixed and colours flying, signifying the official supremacy of the Cottish over Niezgorodskaja. A similar ceremony had been held in Smolensk twenty-four years earlier, and in countless other places over the past thousand years. Arriving and forming out as a honour guard outside the main building in the Kremlin where the actual ceremony was to be held, the Cottish didn’t have to wait long.

Arriving by car at noon, Foreign Minister Sørheim and her delegation were escorted by Colonel General Munthe of the Cottish Sixth Army, and after inspecting the honour guard, entered the Kremlin to the main assembly hall where the full Interim People’s Council, including President Sardjenski and the erstwhile Politbureau, and the Niezgorodskajan General Staff were assembled and waiting. While journalists were present and documenting the whole affair, they had been instructed to keep silent and not ask questions during the ceremony, lest they be removed from the whole thing.

The ceremony itself was kept short and sweet.

After an initial series of formalities, Foreign Minister Sørheim ceded the floor to Colonel General Munthe, allowing him the honour to accept the formal military surrender of the Niezgorodskajan General Staff. The formal instrument of military surrender was presented to the head of the General Staff, who signed it without further ceremony, before it was presented to Colonel General Munthe for his own signature.

Next came the formal instrument of unconditional surrender, which was presented to President Sardjenski for signing. With an utterly defeated expression, the seventy-year-old politician signed the document. A moment later, Foreign Minister Sørheim signed the document and formally ended the war between Cotland and Niezgorodskaja.

After giving a brief speech expressing her respect for the Niezgorodskajan decision to put the health and welfare of its people before the romantic folly of continuing the war to its bitter end, and promising that the Realm of Cotland would honour its commitments as an occupying force until the war with Perm was at an end and the people of Niezgorodskaja would be free to make out their own path as a free nation once more, Foreign Minister Sørheim finished the whole thing with a short speech. The message from Foreign Minister Sørheim was in short that the Interim People’s Council, sans Politbureau and Sardjenski, would be kept on as an administrative council to see that the directives and policies of the Cottish occupation were carried out under the direction of a Viceroy, to be appointed by the King to oversee the occupation. All Niezgorodskajan officials were instructed to report to their respective places of work as usual. Law and order would continue to be observed, and any signs of looting or civil unrest would be stopped immediately and resolutely. Children would continue to go to school, people would continue to go to work, and life would go on. The Cottish were not the bloodthirsty savages that pre-war propaganda had made them out to be, Foreign Minister Sørheim stated as she promised that His Majesty’s Government would do all it could to improve the way of life for the Niezgorodskajan people while they were under Cottish rule. With that message of hope in the future prosperity for the Niezgorodskajan people, the Cottish Foreign Minister brought the ceremony came to an end.

After the Niezgorodskajan politicians were escorted to an adjacent room and the journalists had been politely ushered out from the Kremlin, a team of suit-clad civilians entered the room and formally arrested President Sardjenski and the rest of the erstwhile Politbureau on suspicion of conspiring to commit mass murder. Within hours, the Niezgorodskajan politicians would find themselves being quietly airlifted back to Cotland and imprisonment.

[Cotland]

NIEZGORODSKAJA SURRENDERS! PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC QUITS CONFEDERACY, WAR! WAR IN EAST ENTERS NEW PHASE!

Monday, 25 May, 2020 17:20 UTC

After suing for peace, Niezgorodskajan junta accepts Cottish peace terms, surrenders unconditionally! President Sardjenski, Politbureau taken as prisoners of war! Cottish troops occupy the Niezgorodskajan capital city!

Oslo/Kostroma/Nizhny Novgorod (CTB): In a highly surprising turn of events, the People's Republic of Niezgorodskaja accepted Cottish terms of unconditional surrender earlier today after initiating a bilateral cease-fire on what has been described as the 'southern front' the previous evening.

A Cottish delegation led by Foreign Minister Ine Sørheim (MP-CPP) representing King Sverre arrived in the Niezgorodskajan capital on Wednesday morning, where they presented the Cottish terms for ending the war. The terms were presented as 'non-negotionable' by Foreign Minister Sørheim, and included unconditional Niezgorodskajan surrender, extradition of President Sardjenski and the Niesgorodskajan Politbureau to Cotland, immediate Niezgorodskajan withdrawal from the Confederacy of the Urals, and accepting a Cottish occupation of the Confederacy for the remainder of what will now be a Cottish-Permian War.

After a short and tense recorded meeting where the Niezgorodskajan delegation led by President Sardjenski were left little choice than to accept the Cottish terms, lest the war resume immediately and with undiminished strength, it took the Niezgorodskajan leadership a mere forty-two of the sixty minutes allowed by Foreign Minister Sørheim for consideration of the Cottish terms to accept.

The Niezgorodskajan Government and General Staff issued orders shortly thereafter to all Niezgorodskajan units that the war was at an end and that they were to immediately cease all hostilities and return to their garrisons. Shortly thereafter, the first Cottish troops held in reserve for just such an event crossed the Volga and entered the Niezgorodskajan capital to start to secure key points within the city. The Cottish troops moved quickly through the streets, meeting no opposition as they peacefully occupied various key positions under the quiet observation by silent crowds of a war-weary Niezgorodskajan populace.

The Niezgorodskajan surrender marks a turning point in the ongoing war in the east and a shift in the dynamic, which thus far has been characterized by a long series of fierce set-piece battles between the Cottish Armed Forces on one side and the joint Perm-Niezgorodskajan Confederate Grand Army on the other. With Niezgorodskajas surrender, almost half the fighting strength of the Grand Army has gone, and the Confederate eastern flanks are suddenly left bare. A renewed Cottish general offensive against the Republic of Perm is considered highly likely.

At time of print, the Niezgorodskajan General Staff's orders to lay down their arms and return to barracks appear to be followed, as the Cottish Sixth Army reports that its units have resumed their advance and are not reporting any resistance from Niezgorodskajan units. One Cottish officer serving with a manouver unit in the Sixth Army, speaking on condition of anonymity in order to preserve operational security, states that the resumed advance is "like taking a Sunday stroll in the countryside."

While the Niezgorodskajans have called it quits, Cottish government officials assure CTB that the war against the Republic of Perm will continue with undiminished resolve.

Worldwide All Rights Reserved (C) Cottish Telegram Bureau 25/05-2020

[Cotland]

Central Police Station
Arzamas, Cottish-occupied Niezgorodskaja
09:00 – Thursday, May 28, 2020

The main assembly room in the Arzamas Central Police Station was packed to the gills as the clock hand crossed the top, marking the start of a new hour. Every police officer in Arzamas had been ordered by the Police Commissioner, Colonel of Police Anatolij Trejkov, to attend the meeting, regardless of whether they had been on duty overnight and were supposed to be home sleeping, and so the 600 police officers that belonged to the Police Department were crammed into the large room that could hold 400 comfortably. At exactly 9 o’clock, the order to come to attention resounded through the room as the Police Commissioner came into the room along with the rest of the police department’s leadership and a few unknown people dressed in civilian clothes.

“Good morning,” The Police Commissioner spoke in Niezgorodskajan as he took the podium. “You’re all curious why you’re here, so I’m not going to beat around the bush. We’ve been through a difficult couple of days lately, but I’m proud to report that there have been no major incidents or occurrences of unrest against the new management and its representatives on our watch. That is entirely up to your diligent and around-the-clock work and effort. Now, we’re under new management, as you all know, and there were bound to be some changes made. Now, the first of those changes are upon us. I’d like to introduce to you Hallgeir Wallenberg of the Cottish Interior Ministry, who is our new immediate superior.”

With that, Police Colonel Anatolij Trejkov stepped back and allowed the suit-clad bald bespectacled gentleman to take the podium. Clearing his throat, the man looked over the assembled group of police officers. Most were male, aged somewhere between 30 and 60, though there were some female police officers here and there. Common for them all was the general impression of fatigue and apprehension for the future, and a partially suspicious, partially anticipating gaze levelled upon Wallenberg.

“Good morning. As Colonel Trejkov explained, my name is Hallgeir Wallenberg, and I’ve been appointed by the Interior Ministry of the Realm of Cotland to represent the Interior Ministry within this region of Niezgorodskaja. Now, I know that most of you haven’t slept properly in a while and would like to get home to your families, so I’m going to cut straight to the point here. You have all sworn an oath as police officers to the People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja and its leadership. Now, as the geopolitical situation has changed drastically with the leadership you’ve sworn an oath to no longer being in power, and the People’s Republic no longer existing as an independent geopolitical entity, the reality requires a realignment. Therefore, as of this moment, you are all released from your oaths.”

This caused a murmur among the police officers, which Wallenberg allowed for a moment before continuing.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering ‘what does this mean for me’? Your positions, payment and employment all depend on this oath. It is not, I repeat, not the intention of the Interior Ministry to dissolve the Niezgorodskajan police force. Quite the opposite – we are dependent on you and your skill and expertise and dedication to your community to maintain the law and order that the prosperity of the Niezgorodskajan people depend upon. Therefore, we wish to offer you all the opportunity to continue in your positions as police officers. However,” Wallenberg said as he held up a hand of caution to stop the murmuring in the crowd. “This will require you to take a new oath of allegiance. This oath, on your honour, will be made to the people of Niezgorodskaja and to your new overlord King Sverre of Cotland. Now, we can’t force any of you to take this oath, and if you don’t wish to take this oath, we will respect that. However, understand that refusal to take this new oath will have consequences. It is important that you understand the consequences of both taking the oath and of refusing the oath. I shall explain.”

“Should you choose not to take the oath of allegiance to King Sverre and the people of Niezgorodskaja, which is your right, your employment with the Police Department will be immediately terminated. You will lose your salary, including any salary owed by the previous administration, as well as tax benefits and rationing benefits. You may also be negatively affected should you seek employment with any state enterprise in the future.”

“Should you on the other hand chose to accept and take the oath of allegiance to King Sverre and the people of Niezgorodskaja, you will be kept on with the Police Department and commit yourself to work alongside the Cottish representatives and enforcing the new laws of the land. You will, in short, be working for the benefit and prosperity of the Niezgorodskajan people. Furthermore, you’re committing yourself to working alongside Cottish authorities against those who seek to discredit the new management and work against the peaceful integration of Niezgorodskaja into Cottish society. Should anyone be found to work in contravention of this and thus break their oath, they’re liable for criminal prosecution with the consequences this entails. On a more practical manner, as police officers you will be classified as vital for society and given increased rations while rationing continues. Also, I promise you that your salaries will be paid out on time, every time, and that all salary owed by the previous administration will be paid out for those who continue on duty.”

“Those are the consequences of what we’re asking you to do, and we need a decision from you today. I’m going to give you five minutes to think about it, then I’m going to need a committing answer either way. No one may leave this room without having made a decision. Thank you for your attention.”

With that, Wallenberg stepped back and let the Colonel take the podium again.

“Alright, I know this is a lot to take in. I’m not going to try to influence your decisions, but I think you should know that I and the rest of the leadership group have decided to take the Cottish oath. It is my belief that I can do more good for the people working with the Cottish rather than against them. But again, its your decision. I’ll respect it either way.”

With that, the five minutes passed in the blink of an eye as every man and woman had to individually decide what to do. Follow their ingrained patriotic sentiments and walk away to an uncertain future, or accept the new realities and join the Cottish as what many of the more vocal people in the street would undoubtedly brand as collaborators? For many, the realities of real life, namely putting food on the table for their families and paying their bills with the policeman’s salary outweighed the more idealistic convictions.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your time is up. I shall require a binding answer now. There is no going back on this answer, so choose wisely.” Wallenberg said as he looked over the room. “Those who are not willing to take the oath, please stand up and leave the room.”

After an initial hesitation, seventeen men and two women rose from their seats and exited the room, where they found a squad of Royal Gendarmerie troops that escorted them to administration. Within the hour, they had been stripped of their status as police officers, handed in all uniforms, weapons, identification, keys and equipment, given their termination papers and final pay check, and shown the door. Their respective names had also been blacklisted by the Cottish, resulting in them receiving rationing cards for themselves and their families over starvation level, but only barely.

The rest of the police officers who remained after the nineteen refusals had left were kept in the room. Deciding that leading by example was a good idea, Wallenberg had Colonel Trejkov be the first to take the new oath. In a fusion of Niezgorodskajan and Cottish traditions, Colonel Trejkov kneeled before Wallenberg as he took the corner of the Arzamas Police Department’s colours and the corner of the Cottish national flag in his right hand.

“I, Anatolij Konstantinovitsj Trejkov, hereby declare, on oath, that I give my loyalty to the Realm of Cotland. I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King Sverre the Second, His Heirs and Successors according to law. I will give my loyalty to the people of Niezgorodskaja and respect its right and freedoms. I will observe its laws faithfully and fulfil my duties and obligations as a citizen of Niezgorodskaja and Cotland.” Colonel Trejkov stated with a resounding voice, adding on his own personal account outside of the script he had been handed, “So help me almighty God.”

With the oath administered, a clerk handed a certificate of allegiance to Wallenberg where Trejkov’s name had been typed in while the oath was administered. Wallenberg shook Trejkov’s hand and handed him the certificate while a photographer immortalized the moment. This same procedure took place with every one of the five hundred eighty-one police officers who remained in service, and served as both a visible reminder to the police officer, and as evidence of oath-breaking in the event that the police officer turned tail at any point in the future.

Similar ceremonies would take place throughout Cottish-occupied Niezgorodskaja in police stations, firehouses, government offices, and other state enterprises, as a part of cementing the loyalty of the Niezgorodskajan people and stopping any would-be insurgents from the get-go before they would have the chance to get organized. That the rationing instituted by the erstwhile People’s Republic many years ago was continued by the Cottish meant that they had another mean of controlling the population. Anyone who worked with the Cottish would be given generous rations, while anyone working against the Cottish would be given just enough to sustain life, but not enough to entirely get rid of the sensation of starvation. It was a tactic perfected in Scotland in the 1960s and Smolensk in the 1990s, and as part of a general hearts and minds campaign that also included massive infrastructure and public works that benefited the general population, creating jobs and opportunities, revamping of the school curriculums to indoctrinate the children early on, and targeted arrests and imprisonment in Cotland of key would-be insurgents and leaders while conducting an otherwise soft occupation had prevented major insurgencies and won the occupied people’s over to become integrated parts of Cotland within few years.

[Cotland]

East of Iliynsky, Republic of Perm
10:00 – Thursday, May 28, 2020

While the start of the Cottish hearts and minds campaign got underway in Niezgorodskaja, the Cottish Army resumed its offensive against the Republic of Perm. Across the front line, fifteen frontline divisions had started a wide-spread attack the previous night after the Sixth Cottish Army had completed its redeployment to the east. In the south, the Cottish 4 Armoured Corps had caught the Permian Third Army at a bad spot, forcing the Permians into battle as they redeployed in haste to try to cover their exposed left flank. Counted among the five understrength divisions available to the Third Permian Field Army was the 7th Niezgorodskajan “Shield of Sarov” Tank Division, which held the dubious honor of being the only Niezgorodskajan division to ignore the orders to quit the war and decide to fight on. The 7th TD had been in the process of being withdrawn east towards Izjevsk for refurbishment following a particularly nasty mauling at the hands of Cottish attack helicopters and tactical air power a few days ago, but the changing dynamic forced its return to the front line to reinforce the 12th Permian Motor Rifle Division against the Cottish 40th Armoured Division, which was pressing forward in its sector. Further north, the Cottish 16 Corps was in the process of taking the city of Kirov, the third largest city in the Republic of Perm, while fighting off the Fourth Permian Field Army. Further east, in the First Cottish Army’s area of responsibility, the Cottish 17 Corps was continuing its push south towards its objective, the Votninsk Reservoir. Standing in its way were elements of the Second Permian Army, including one of the Army’s two reduced Tank Divisions and two of its three Motor Rifle Divisions.

Even further east, on the western banks of the Kama Reservoir, the Cottish 8 Corps with three division on the line were pressing south against the balance of the Second Permian Army. That meant that the Second Permian Army with a total of five reduced-strength manouver divisions were facing six Cottish manouver divisions at more or less full strength. Guarding the banks of the Kama Reservoir from possible Permian attempts at landing behind the Cottish lines while they were recovering from the Battle of Polovodovo three days prior, the Cottish 29th Armoured Division served as the First Army’s mobile reserve along with the 7th Airmobile Division while the balance of 2 Armoured Corps supported 14 Corps as they slogged their way through the heavy Permian defences on the other side of the Kama Reservoir. Following a gruelling five-day urban battle, the 38th Cottish Mechanized Division reinforced by two brigades of the 20th Armoured Division and one brigade of Paratroopers from the 7th Airmobile Division along with ample and liberal use of artillery and tactical air power had finally managed to capture the city of Berezniki, which had been held by determined Permian defenders who had refused to surrender. As a result, the six manouver brigades it had taken to capture the city needed to rest and recover for a bit and absorb replacements for the losses the reinforced division had taken. In return, they had completely and utterly destroyed the Permian 26th Motor Rifle Division. For 14 Corps, it was up to the 22nd and 64th Mechanized Division, reinforced by elements of the 52nd Armoured Division, to continue the attack southwards along the two axis available. Facing them were the First Permian Army, consisting of two unblooded Tank Divisions and three bloodied Motor Rifle Divisions, plus the two Permian Air Assault Brigades, which had been digging in for the past two weeks and prepared a hellish welcome for the Cottish. The war wasn’t over yet.

Situation at Noon, May 28, 2020

Crossing the Ilyinsky Bay on the eastern part of the Kama Reservoir was usually a very pleasant affair. Spanning some three kilometers from the northern to the southern shores, the whole journey could be done in as little as a few minutes at a leisurely pace on a sunny warm late May day like this Friday. In wartime, in an assault crossing trapped in Sisu Pasi amphibious APCs under enemy fire, it was not a particularly pleasant affair for the infantrymen of the 2. Battalion/Kolas Fusilérregiment. The Sisu Pasi 6x6 APC was built with amphibious river crossing capability in mind, and while it had been tested as part of the acceptance trials, no one in their right minds would have contemplated actually doing it unless they had to. Sadly for the men of the 2nd Kola Fusiliers, their battalion commander and their brigade commander could not be said to be of right minds as they were the crazy sods that came up with this plan in the first place! The whole idea was that putting the balance of the infantry battalion ashore with their armoured vehicles and support weapons would establish a beachhead that would allow the rest of the brigade to cross in relative leisure, and force the 7th Permian Motor Rifle Division holding the 13th Cottish Motor Rifle Division at bay further west to pull back once it realized that its flanks were threatened. That, in turn, would allow the Cottish 13th and 54th Divisions to press forward and push south towards their ultimate objective: the capital city of Perm on the shores of the Kama River a mere 70 kilometers further south! And thus, with the potential gains outweighing the risk to the troops bobbing around in the 15 ton steel boxes they called APCs.

The crossing was supposed to take place at first light, but like so many military operations, things occurred that ruined the carefully choreographed time schedule, meaning that it wasn’t until 10 o’clock, almost six hours late, that the crossing started. At this time, the field artillery batteries supporting the crossing shifted from preparatory fires against the identified defences on the isthmus to covering the expected beachhead and any Permian positions with multispectral smoke rounds, obscuring visibility for their eyes and sensors to try to cover the crossing as best they could. Attack helicopters flew cover, dodging the occasional AAA and MANPAD that flew towards them as they returned the favor with 20MM and 30MM cannonfire and 70MM rockets. It took thirty minutes for the fifty-six APCs to cross the bay at the breakneck speed of 10 kilometers per hour, but as they waded ashore on the thin sliver of beach at the farming homestead of Guschevska, home to twelve families and 30 acres of farmland, only two APCs had foundered, leaving fifty-four to get the job done. Greeted by a barking dog and a frightened old man with a shotgun, the Cottish simply waved as they rolled off the beach and through the settlement, using the dirt roads to their advantage to push out from the beach and down southwest towards their objective, the village of Karamal, only seven kilometers from Ilyinsky.

Within the hour, Karamal had fallen to the 2nd Kola Fusiliers and two companies of infantrymen started digging in for the expected counterattack from the Battalion Tactical Group that intel indicated held Ilyinsky. Meanwhile, another company of the 2. Kola Fusiliers pushed south to expand the beachhead further, establishing platoon-sized blocking forces on the roads and fields that could threaten the Karamal stronghold. Meanwhile, M3 amphibious ferries began moving the heavier units of the Solheim Armoured Infantry Brigade no 178 across to reinforce the bridgehead. By noon, the first of the STRV121 Panter tanks started making their appearance as the cavalrymen of the 7. Kongelige Bjarmeland Rytteri were ferried across by the divisional engineers. That was when the Permians finally reacted to the Cottish presence, in the form of a small column of BTR-82 ICVs and BRDM-2 recce vehicles approaching Karamal.

Dug in in a wooded area two kilometers west of Karamal, a reinforced rifle platoon of Company G, 2. Kola Fusiliers had just managed to establish positions when the forward observation post reported armour on the move. Sure enough, within a few minutes the tell-tale shape of a BRDM-2 leading a column of six BTR-82s and another BRDM at the rear showed up. The turrets of the armoured vehicles swept their assigned sectors, telling the platoon commander observing through his binoculars that these fellows seemed to know what they were doing. They were driving with tactical spacing, fifty meters between each vehicle, meaning that they wouldn’t be able to get a “two-for-one”. No matter, they had plenty of anti-armour assets.

Allocating targets quickly and methodically to his anti-tank teams, the platoon commander enjoyed the benefits of the experience the past three weeks of heavy fighting had afforded him and the survivors of his platoon as they prepared to fight the Permians yet again. Opening up against the two rear-most vehicles in the convoy with his two attached Javelin teams, the salvo was quickly followed by the platoon’s three organic Carl Gustav recoilless rifles opening fire against the three closest vehicles at ranges of up to four hundred meters. The rest of the platoon opened up with machine guns and 40mm grenade launchers as the BTRs stopped and started dismounting infantry while returning fire, spraying random areas of forest with 30mm and 7.62mm fire. Reloading quickly, the Carl Gustavs fired again and knocked out another BTR, with the remaining three manouvering wildly to avoid getting fired up and popping smoke. The sensitive IR sensors on the command-launch units of the Javelins were designed to see through the plain white smoke, and quickly put another two BTRs out of commission. That left one BTR and some thirty-odd Permian infantry dismounted on the road to Karamal. The engagement was quickly put to an end by a salvo of 120mm mortar bombs, courtesy of the 2. Kola Fusiliers’ mortar platoon, landing smack dab in the middle of the cluster of Permians. All that was left to do was to mop up the remaining Permians, and shift positions in anticipation of a Permian artillery barrage against the wooded area the platoon had occupied.

Sure enough, as the last of the Cottish APCs rolled away towards their alternate positions a kilometer further east, a battery of 122mm howitzers plastered the wooded area with a mix of HE and incendiary rounds, setting the woods ablaze.

It was just another day in the war for the 2. Kola Fusiliers, but the slaughtering of the motor rifle company group was enough to convince the commander in Ilyinsky that he had a massive Cottish force threatening his right flank and that his position was untenable. Thus, the 7th Permian MRD’s right flank collapsed and in turn warranted the withdrawal further south towards Grigoryevskoye, 30 kilometers further south.

[Cotland]

Royal Ministry of Defence, Akershus Fortress
Oslo, Noreg len, Realm of Cotland
18:00 – Wednesday, 3 June, 2020

As usual, at six o’clock in the evening the Cottish General Staff held its usual press briefing, informing the press and the public of the events of the previous twenty-four hours that the General Staff had deemed necessary to release. The press pool had grown accustomed to the briefing style by now, settling down to receive the daily press package and information while preparing questions for after the briefing.

“As of seventeen hundred hours Oslo time, the Eastern Army Group is currently engaged in no less than four major battles against the Army of the Perm Republic.”

A map graphic showed how Cottish unit identifiers creeped further into the Permian Republic, with the area occupied by Cottish forces being superimposed by a blue-striped overlay that followed the unit identifiers and marking just how much of the Permian Republic had fallen to Cotland by this point – it was well over 60%.

“As you can see from the map graphic, in the southeast in Sixth Army’s area of responsibility, Four Armoured Corps supported by elements of Twelve Corps is currently in the process of fighting through the outer defences outside Izjevsk. The continued Cottish push towards Izjevsk, the second largest city in the Permian Republic, has forced the Permian Fifth Army to commit to battle to support the decimated Permian Third Army, which has been mauled by the Cottish offensive. For example, overnight Four Armoured Corps destroyed the Permian Ninth Motor Rifle Division in situ at Nylga, where the enemy division decided to make its final stand. The few survivors of the division surrendered to Forty Armoured Division this morning. The Permian Fifth Army constitutes the last remaining operational reserve for the Permian General Staff and have now been committed to battle. This marks the commitment to battle of all units in the Permian Army, excluding the Presidential Protection Brigade that remains in Perm City.”

Images of Cottish tanks and armoured vehicles fighting at night, illuminated by tracers and starshells with explosions in the background as they fired on Permian forces, interspaced with images of burning Permian tanks and dead bodies of Permian soldiers lying where they fell as they defended against the Cottish. Clearly, this was NSFW-material, but that was part of the Cottish media strategy of appearing to give as much information as possible, including the really bad stuff. Conspicuously, one never saw Cottish dead close-up in the propaganda, unlike the Permians.

“Further north, Sixteen Corps continues its fight to secure the city of Kirov. The defenders of the city have dug in, and our forces have been forced by the Permian Army to root the stubborn defenders out room by room, building by building, street by street. This is a slow, manpower-intensive process, but Sixteen Corps is confident that Kirov will be secured soon. Sadly, this senseless stubborn defence forces the Cottish Army to take the city by force, with untold suffering for the civilian populace that still remain within the city. Humanitarian corridors have been established for the safe evacuation of the civilian population, but the Permian Army refuses to allow its civilians to flee the besieged city. This means that the responsibility for the suffering inflicted upon the civilians rests solely on the Permian Army and Government.”

Propaganda pictures of wounded Permian civilians being given medical treatment and assistance by Cottish soldiers rolled over the screens, along with images of captured Permian soldiers being marched off to imprisonment by Cottish troops.

“To the north, in First Army’s area of responsibility, Eight and Seventeen Corps’ continues their attacks against the Permian Second Army, which has fallen back towards more defensible positions with their backs against the Izh River. In the last twenty-four hours, elements of Seventeen Corps have overran and forced the surrender of the Permian Sixth Motor Rifle Division, while Eight Corps have accepted the surrender of the Seventh and Twenty-First Permian Motor Rifle Divisions. The multi-corps attack continues is slowed somewhat by unfavorable terrain, but the Cottish offensive continues its momentum forward.

Images of Cottish armoured vehicles rolling through hilly, densely wooded terrain with helicopters and fighter aircraft flying cover overhead were interspaced by images of a Cottish officer accepting the surrender of a Permian unit, and Permian troops lying down their rifles in a pile under the watchful observation of heavily armed Cottish soldiers.

“Finally, on the eastern side of the Kolma River, Two Armoured Corps and Fourteen Corps continue their attack down towards Perm. At present, the Cottish forward positions are less than twenty kilometers from the Sylva River, which constitutes the final line of defence for the Permian First Army. I am pleased to report that as we speak, military targets located within the city limits of Perm City are under fire from Cottish field artillery. Final victory over the aggressor is near.”

Hanstvedt paused as he drew a breath. A relatively recent development in the press briefing was the unsolicited announcement of casualty figures, which has been attempted concealed early in the war but quickly found out by journalists. After a minor scandal, the Government had decided to preempt the journalists and be upfront with the actual casualty figures, spinning it as a sign of how heavy the fighting was and how these losses, while grievous, would have been much higher if they had to be fought on Cottish soil and in Cottish cities, which would undoubtedly (in the propaganda) have happened had Cotland not beat the Confederacy to the punch and launched a ground offensive.

“Sadly, victory does not come without cost. Since yesterday’s briefing, Eastern Army Group and Second Tactical Air Force reports having suffered nine hundred twenty-four killed in action and two thousand seven hundred seventy-two wounded in action, of which one thousand one hundred nine required medical evacuation from the area of operations. Notification of the next of kin are ongoing, and per policy, names of the killed will not be released until after ninety-six hours. This brings the total casualty count for His Majesty’s Forces in the East after a month of warfare to fourteen thousand six hundred seventy-one brave soldiers killed in action and fifty-six thousand thirteen soldiers wounded in action. His Majesty’s Forces grieve with the families of the lost and offers its prayers for the speedy recovery of the wounded warriors.”


Josjkar-Ola, Cottish-occupied Niezgorodskaja
10:00 – Thursday, 4 June, 2020

As the grocery stores reopened at 10 o’clock on Thursday, it was the start of the new era. Over the past week, the Cottish administration had worked around the clock to implement various policies and secure control over all walks of Niezgorodskajan life. Police forces and other government officials had been given a simple choice: swear allegiance to Cotland or lose your jobs, resulting in over 95% of the government officials and 85% of the police pledging allegiance to Cotland. This ensured cooperation with the Cottish, and allowed the Cottish government to take stern measures if/when it was discovered that someone were actively opposing the Cottish administration. Martial law remained in effect, with a nationwide curfew between 2300 and 0600, though this curfew had been in effect for as long as anyone in living memory in Niezgorodskaja could remember. It was planned to end the curfew as quickly as practicable, though it did make it easier for the Cottish to retain control. Of more immediate notice was the changes to the rationing scheme in Niezgorodskaja. In a public speech three days ago, the new Cottish Viceroy had announced that the rationing would have to continue for the foreseeable future, and that he regretted that at present the daily ration for every Niezgorodskajan citizen was calculated to a “mere” 2,800 calories. This had caused many Niezgorodskajans to laugh out loud, as it was a whole 700 calories more than they had sustained themselves on for the past ten years! The running joke was that people would get fat under the new management.

So, armed with full wallets (thanks to the Cottish following up on their promise to pay out all paychecks) and newly printed and distributed rationing cards in hand, many Niezgorodskajans gathered outside the grocery stores to stock up when it opened at 10. To their absolute shock, many Niezgorodskajans found their local grocery stores to not only open on time for a change, but that the shelves were fully stocked up with foodstuffs, many of them of Cottish manufacture! Austerity, shortages and empty shelves had been the name of the game for years in the People’s Republic, and many expected this to continue under the principle of “meet the new boss, same as the old boss,” but the sight that met them in the grocery stores shattered many illusions and forced many people who had been sceptical to the new Cottish overlords to review their stances. After all, if they could fix a thing that had plagued the People’s Republic for ages in such a short time, what other things could they fix?

In truth, it was part of the Cottish hearts and minds campaign. Trainloads of food had been brought in to all Niezgorodskajan cities and towns by commercial actors operating under contract with the Cottish Trade Ministry, who served as owners of the Torgsin – the state-owned grocery store chain that was found in every settlement in Niezgorodskaja. The erstwhile People’s Republic of Niezgorodskaja had been a planned economy with the government owning pretty much everything in the country, meaning that when it surrendered, ownership befell the Cottish Government. Having planned for this, the Cottish Trade Ministry had spent the better part of the past week appointing directors and preparing for a partial privatization of the Niezgorodskajan economy. The plan was rather simple. Gradually, the various businesses would be listed on the international stock markets with the Cottish government remaining as majority owners, ensuring the continued Cottish control. Certain cornerstone businesses would remain state-owned enterprises for the time being, including the armaments industry. Until that could be achieved though, the Trade Ministry would continue to remain as the owner and employer for all state-owned enterprises in Niezgorodskaja, including Torgsin.

Elsewhere, in the schools of Niezgorodskaja, new shipments of textbooks were starting to arrive along with teachers and school administrators from Cotland. Most of these teachers were from the Smolensk province, a predominantly Russian-speaking province in Cotland that had been annexed twenty-five years earlier and undergone a similar treatment to that Niezgorodskaja would receive, and would guide and advise the Niezgorodskajan teachers in the new curriculum that it had been decided that the schoolchildren would learn. Regular classes had been suspended at the surrender of Niezgorodskaja, and it was decided that the children would get their summer vacation early, with start of the new school year set to 17 August, like the rest of Cotland. In the time in between, the faculty staff of all Niezgorodskajan educational institutitions would be indoctrinated in the Cottish National Core Curriculum and other changes to the education system to bring it more in line with the Cottish system. Major changes to note was the elimination of ‘Christendom’ as a separate subject, being replaced by the Cottish ‘Religion and Ethics’, mathematics and sciences were expanded, and Cottish and English were added as mandatory language classes, expanding the language portion from one language (Russian) to three.

The school day was also expanded from the hitherto Niezgorodskajan standard 09:00-14:00 school day to a typical Cottish 08:00-15:45 school day, and free optional breakfast before the start of the day and mandatory (free) warm lunch for all students was added to the school day. Countless studies had shown that mandatory nutritional meals during the school day improved the learning environment for the pupils, and free meals for all pupils had therefore been offered throughout Cotland since the 1970s. It was part of the Cottish government’s continued emphasis on the importance of education for its citizens and would be implemented in Niezgorodskaja as well. It was a relatively cheap but effective way of gaining the hearts and minds of the children and their parents, and thus a no-brainer. That the changes to the educational curriculum also allowed for continued low-key indoctrination of the young to the Cottish way of life was a bonus.

The Cottish government were wasting no time changing the Niezgorodskajan society to bring it further into line with Cotland.

[Cotland]

Forests EAST of GREMJATSJINSK, Republic of Perm
08:30 – Friday, 5 June, 2020

The eight men walked cautiously through the dense forest, stopping every so often to listen and observe. Spread out with at least ten meters between each man to prevent a single burst of automatic fire to cut down more than one man, the rifle squad had the unenvious task of being the forward skirmish line for the platoon-strength patrol sent to clear this part of the forests east of Gremjatsjinsk. A whole brigade of infantry had been tasked with clearing the forest, as the Corps Commander feared that the enemy might use the forest to try to flank the Cottish division fighting it out over Gremjatsjinsk after a fierce Permian counterattack that had forced the 64th Division to pull back to more defensible terrain.

The Cottish soldiers had been patrolling the forest for the better part of two hours without anything to show for it when suddenly a subdued burst of automatic gunfire to the southeast made everyone stop and drop to kneeling position. Scanning their assigned sectors with G95 rifles and MG88 light machine guns at the ready, they couldn’t see anything. Reporting in by radio, Sergeant Kristoffer Sandberg was instructed by his platoon commander to investigate and report back. After acknowledging the orders, Sergeant Sandland had his squad start advancing towards the gunfire. The men moved cautiously, having learned the hard way over the past month that rushing things was the best way of getting yourself killed, and everyone sensed that the war might be coming to an end soon with Niezgorodskaja surrendering and Perm City being reported under direct Cottish artillery fire. No one wanted to take any unnecessary risks that might get them killed now.

While they were getting closer to the source of the gunfire, it was clear that whoever were shooting were coming towards the squad too, as the sounds and intensity of the weapons fire increased. While he contemplated holding here and let the source come to him, a fierce whipping sound interrupted his thought process as branches in nearby trees started snapping off the trees, prompting Sandland and the entire squad to drop to the ground. Stray rounds from the shooters, Sandland realized. Giving instructions by hand signals to hold here and get ready to fight, Sandland realized that there was another sound in between the bursts of weapons fire. A high-pitched metallic snapping sound interspaced with occasional shouts in Russian and… Cottish?! Were the Permians shooting at Cots?

Deciding to risk it, Sandland got up and moved along the shooter line his squad had established, checking on his men and instructing them to hold fire unless they had positive ID on Permian troops, as he suspected there might be Cots being shot at and coming towards them. He did not want any unintentional fratricide, so general opening of fire would be done on his express order only. His men were in good, improvised fighting positions, taking cover as best they could behind trees and stubs and generally exploiting the terrain as best they could, so he felt confident in success as he got back to his own post.

The sounds got louder and louder, but it was difficult to see anything though the vegetation. No wait, there! The rifleman lying seven meters to Sandland’s left called out “Contact infantry!” and direction indicators as he took aim, prompting Sandland to look. Two persons dressed in camouflage uniforms stumbled through the woods, with another two running towards the rifle squad’s position clutching camouflaged weapons before stopping abruptly and turning to open fire at their rear, allowing the two stumblers – Sandland could see that it was one man supporting another that was clearly wounded – to continue moving as they covered. Within seconds, another two men emerged sprinting, passing the stumblers as they moved to new positions to cover. It was a classical withdrawal under fire procedure, keeping a constant volume of weapons fire on the enemy as one attempted to break contact.

They were a mere eighty meters out from Sandland’s position, and heading directly towards them, so Sandland had to do something, lest they stumble right on top of the Cottish infantrymen. Grabbing his G95 rifle by the barrel and holding it up over his head, Sergeant Sandland called out towards the men, “Pære!” (”Pear!”)

The two men looking for cover and one of the stumblers immediately stopped and started scanning the area for the source of the voice.

“Pære, ellers skyter vi!” (”Pear, or we will open fire!”) Sandland demanded.

“Eple!” (”Apple!”) One of the men called, grabbing his camouflaged rifle and holding it over his head – the universally recognition signal for friendly troops as taught to all Cottish NCOs and officers.

“Kom hit, vi dekker!” (”Come here, we’ll cover you!”)

Without hesitation, the men quickly moved past the shooter line Sandland’s squad had established and hunkered down, with one of them coming up to Sandlands position and guiding in his last two men. As they too came into the fold, the man went prone next to Sandland.

“Takk kompis,” (“Thanks buddy,”) He said, panting for air. “En Permisk geværtropp kommer mot deg. Luftlandetropper, tøffe jævler, men vi har gitt de en blodig nese så de er varsome.” (“There’s a Permian rifle platoon coming towards you. Air Assault troops, fierce bastards, but we’ve bloodied their nose a bit so they’re moving cautiously.”)

“Riktig, takk.” (“Right, thanks,”) Sandland said before going on commo. “2 dette er 2-1. Sitrap: har lenket opp med egne spesialstyrker, men jeg er på vei inn i kontakt med FI luftlandetropp. Amoder om forsterkninger og sanitetsmann til min posisjon, over.” (“2 this is 2-1. Be advised, have linked up with friendly special forces, but I am about to go into contact with enemy air assault platoon. Request reinforcements and medic to my posit, over.”)

”2, mottatt. Jeg sender 2-2 og sanitet opp til deg. Bind fienden så 2-3 kan gå på flanken og rulle de opp, over.” ([i]“2, roger. I’m sending 2-2 and the medic to back you up. Bind the enemy in place, so 2-3 can flank and roll them up, over.”)

“2-1 mottatt slutt.” (“2-1 roger out.”) Sandland acknowledged before turning to the special forces man lying next to him and his 2IC, who had come up to get an update. “Okay Sander, 2-2 kommer for å støtte oss. Vi skal binde FI så troppen kan rulle de opp langs flanken. Få gutta klar.” (“Okay Sander, 2-2 is coming up to back us up. We are to bind the enemy in place so the rest of the platoon can outflank them and roll them up. Get the boys ready.”)

The Corporal 2IC nodded and moved off to spread the word. Time was of the essence. Meanwhile, Sandland looked to the Special Forces man. “Sersjant Kristoffer Sandland, andre bataljon, Kongsbergs Infanteri.” (“Sergeant Kristoffer Sandland, Second Battalion, Kongsberg Infantry.”)

“Løytnant Olav, Femte Jeger” (“Lieutenant Olav, Fifth Jegers.”) The man said, following the norm the Special Forces had of not giving out last names unless they absolutely had to.

“Hyggelig løytnant. Troppens sanitetsmann er på vei for å ta seg av din sårede, og vi har FI på vei inn. Hvis gutta dine er i stand så trenger jeg flere geværer på linja.” (“Good to meet you Lieutenant. I’ve got the platoon medic coming up to look at your wounded man, and we’ve got the enemy coming in. If your lads are up for it, I could use a few more rifles on my firing line.”)

“Vi skal hjelpe, men vi har lite ammo igjen.” (“We’ll help out, but we’re running low on ammo.”)

Pulling out three magazines from his chest rig and giving to the Special Forces officer, Sandland smiled. “Sharing is caring.”

The levity was broken by a muffled shout of “Contact infantry front!”

Looking up, Sergeant Sandland could see a series of figures in Permian ‘Flora’ camouflage pattern emerge through the vegetation, holding weapons at the ready as they moved through the woods. While the Cottish were in camouflage uniforms with branches stuck in their helmets to break up the telltale conture of persons, and were in good positions, it was only a matter of time before the enemy got close enough to pick out the troops from the forest ground. Taking careful aim at the person that appeared to be the leader, Sandland took a deep breath before flicking the safety switch to FIRE and depressed the trigger.

The loud rapport of the G95 rifle shattered the uneasy peace of the forest and was immediately followed by another six rifles and a light machine gun cutting down the first row of Permian soldiers. Almost immediately, the loud metallic noise of suppressed weapons wielded by the Special Forces operatives joined in, along with the squad’s grenadier wielding the squad’s Milkor MGL 40mm automatic grenade launcher to take out groupings and pesky support weapons that wanted to participate in the fight. The firefight quickly developed to an all-out infantry battle. The Permians brought up the balance of their platoon, while the Cottish were reinforced by another rifle squad and the platoon sergeant.

After a relatively short period of time, the third Cottish rifle squad led by the platoon commander managed to flank the Permians, ending in a regular slaughter as the Cottish refused to budge and the Permian Air Assault troops refusing to fall back.

Less than an hour later, the battle was over. It had been relatively uneven, with the Cottish 33 strong defending rifle platoon reinforced by five Special Forces operators having wiped out the twenty-three strong attacking Permian Air Assault platoon. The butcher’s bill was relatively light too, with only two Cottish dead and five wounded against nineteen Permians killed and the rest wounded and subsequently captured.

In the after-action debrief, it turned out that Sandland and one of the operators were old friends, having been in the same squad during their tenure at the Sergeant’s School in Finland three years ago. From his friend over a cup of instant coffee brewed up after the battle, Sandland got the inside story. The Special Forces patrol had been inserted during SUDDEN TERMINATOR and had operated behind enemy lines since the start of the war, reporting enemy troop movements and calling in air strikes against enemy positions and installations. They had been resupplied from the air, but continuously given new orders in place of extraction. Two days ago, their luck had finally run out as they were detected after calling in an air strike against Permian defences on the Sylva river. Since then, they had been evading and moved north towards where the Cottish lines. Unfortunately, one of the operators were wounded during a firefight the last night, slowing them down and prompting a five-hour attempt at breaking contact until they encountered the Cottish infantrymen. To say that they were happy to see Sandland and his men was the understatement of the year.

After finishing the coffee, the Special Forces patrol, sans the wounded man who had already been CASEVACed to a field hospital for treatment, was ordered to the company command post, where they’d be transported to the rear area for rest and recouperation, while Sandland and his troops were resupplied with ammo and water to replenish what had been expended and instructed to continue the patrol.

Silkeborg Garrison
Silkeborg, Danmark len, Realm of Cotland
09:00 – Friday, 5 June, 2020

“Enter!” The Colonel called at the knock on the door. Stepping through the door was the Private First Class who had been elected as the senior ombudsman for the conscripts in the garrison, exercising his right to air grievances to the garrison commander. The meeting had been scheduled for a few days now, and the Colonel had a good idea what the ombudsman wanted. Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the ombudsman to get to the point.

“Sir, as you know, contingent 1901 was supposed to be discharged two weeks ago. We’ve have served our eighteen months of National Service, and now we’re still being held in service on overtime. What we’d like to know, sir, is when we can expect to get discharged.”

Taking a deep breath, the Colonel formulated his words in his head before he spoke. He had decided to approach this matter in a conciliatory fashion even before the instructions from the General Staff stating that officers should avoid barking and demanding acquiescence in favor of discussion and explaining the situation to the affected conscripts.

“The truth is that I can’t answer that question because I don’t know that myself at this time. You know that Cotland is at war in the east. Immediately upon declaration of war, the Ministry of Defence issued what’s called a stop-loss order to all Cottish military units. This means that all discharges and dismissals are suspended until further notice. Historically in all modern wars Cotland have been in, these orders have been for the duration of the conflict, but I haven’t gotten any further instructions from the Ministry or the General Staff other than suspend all discharges.”

The Colonel sighed as he leaned forward and looked the ombudsman in the eyes. Under Cottish law, the conscripts were to be discharged after eighteen months of national service, for transfer to the reserves, and the conscripts had made plans for studies and work accordingly. However, in wartime they would be extended indefinitely, which had been one of the first things the Ministry of Defence had ordered in order to avoid losing trained troops. Unfortunately, the generic stop-loss order had also stopped discharges of conscripts from other, non-fighting units in other theatres of operation such as the logistics base at Silkeborg.

“Now, I want you to know that I know you’ve all done an excellent job in your national service thus far, and I want to commend you all on how well you’ve taken the news in stride thus far. I know that the uncertainty is gnawing on your patience and that you all have plans for the future that have to be put on hold for the time being. I am very sorry that I don’t have any further information to help assuage the situation for you. However, I promise you on my honour as an officer that I will continue to seek information, and I promise that I will let you know the moment I have any further information. I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do right now.”

Slightly surprised at the candor offered by the Colonel in place of the dressing down he had half expected, the ombudsman nodded. “Okay, I understand. If you could please emphasize to them that anything they can do to reduce the uncertainty will help. Thank you sir for your time.”

“Anytime son. If there’s anything at all we can do to help with the practical matters, please don’t hesitate to let us know. My door is always open.”

[Cotland]

Squadron Ready Room, Syktyvkar Air Force Station
Syktyvkar, Komi len, Realm of Cotland
13:00 – Saturday, 6 June, 2020

“Alright folks, settle down.” The squadron commander said as he entered the pilot’s ready room. The assembled pilots of 112 (Fighter) Squadron got into their seats and the noise subsided.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your 36 hour standdown, because we’re going back to business. As of this moment, One One Two Squadron has been assigned to Operation TERMINUS.” The Lieutenant Colonel commanding the fighter squadron nodded to the operations NCOs, who dimmed the light so the presentation would be easier to see. “Operation TERMINUS is the codename for a divisional air landing operation into this airfield, Chirki Airfield, which is one of the enemy’s six remaining operational airbases. At H-Hour, Second Tactical Air Force will airland the bulk of the Seventh Airmobile Division onto Chirki and facilitate its capture for our own use.”

The slide changed to show satellite images of an airbase with two runways. By the map insert, the airbase was located deep behind enemy lines.

“Chirki is important for a few different reasons. Firstly, capturing Chirki provides us with a foothold behind the FEBA and allows our forces to threaten the P343 Highway, which is the critically important main supply route for the Permian First Army which is holding the Army at bay north of the Sylva River. If we take out this vital logistical node, the enemy will be forced to withdraw to more defensible terrain.

“Second, using Chirki as a forward operating location, our forces can capture the vital crossroads at Kungur, which supply the defenders at Perm City and block off their retreat option along the E22 Highway. With Kirov fallen and Izjevsk about to fall any day now, Perm is now the last major city remaining in Confederate hands. If we capture Perm, the war should be over.

“Third, since Perm Airfield has been under sustained artillery bombardment for some time now, the enemy has evacuated his surviving MIG-31 FOXHOUND force to Chirki. There are an estimated twenty-two FOXHOUNDs still in the enemy order of battle that continues to harass and inflict losses upon our forces. Command Authority want to remove the FOXHOUNDs from the equation. Capturing them on the ground at Chirki satisfies that requirement.

“So, for these reasons, Seventh Airmobile Division has been released from Army Group reserve and will be airlanded in the largest airborne operation the Cottish Armed Forces have conducted since the Scottish intervention in the 1970s. Even during the Smolenski War twenty-five years ago, we didn’t airland anything much bigger than a reinforced brigade group in one go.”

The pilots swallowed as they realized the scale of the planned operation. They knew that had been a few airdrops here and there so far in the war, but usually only battalion-sized tactical drops aimed at capturing critical positions in support of a specific tactical operation, or at most the brigade-sized drops at the start of the war, but nothing on the divisional scale.

“Now, for our task in this endeavour. One One Two Squadron will be flying escort for the first wave of the airlanding force, escorting them safely to the drop zones and provide on-call CAS. Other squadrons will be responsible for offensive counter-air, preparatory strikes in support of the airlanding operation, and SEAD operations. Electronic warfare assets will also operate in support of this operation. While our operations have drastically degraded the enemy’s freedom of manouver and air defence umbrella, there are still an estimated two hundred fifty enemy fighters active operating in support of his remaining CAS assets. We have also identified seven SAM batteries along the path of advance, which will be targeted by a combination of deep artillery missile strikes and SEAD assets.”

“At Chirki itself, we have apart from the beforementioned FOXHOUND force an eclectic gathering of roughly a squadron of Su-25 FROGFOOT ground-attack aircraft, half a dozen MiG-35 FULCRUM multirole fighters, half a dozen transport aircraft of various types and a handful of HIP helicopters. The airbase is defended by a battery each of 57mm and 23mm triple-A, which will be engaged by SEAD assets, and a battery of SA-11 GADFLY. There is also highly likely a number of MANPADs scattered around the airbase. On the ground, there’s an estimated reduced battalion of troops with the normal assortment of infantry weapons. Remember, even a 5.45mm round in the wrong place can make for a very bad day for a Viper, so be careful!”

The pilots hardly needed reminding. Most of those pilots who had been around for more than a week had come back with bullet holes in their fuselage from enthusiastic Permian small arms fire peppering their birds, and they knew of at least one plane in their own squadron that had been downed by that “golden BB.”

“H-Hour is set for 0900 hours tomorrow morning. Starting tonight, Twenty-First Air Division will begin systematic suppression of the enemy’s air defences along the corridor stretching from the front line in the north here, covering a 70-kilometre-wide corridor from the Permian-Russian border in the east to approximately along the Serga river to the west here, all the way down to the E22 Highway. In the early morning tomorrow, Two TAF will begin suppression of the enemy airfields at Serga, Aspa, Oktyabrsk and Tsjernuskja in order to make it more difficult for them to respond. At H-hour minus sixty minutes, Raptors flying BARCAP will take up position to block enemy counter-air efforts from Aspa, Oktyabrsk and Tsjernusjka airfields, as well as prevent any aircraft from taking off from Chirki. Suppression of enemy defensive targets at Chirki will be conducted by elements of 232 Wing at H-Hour minus forty-five minutes, taking care not to target the runway, fuel farm or other critical infrastructure that we need for our own purposes. Other assets will also begin suppression of Perm’s air defences, in particular the Perm SA-10 SAM Regiment, to prevent its GARGOYLEs from making this into a very bad day indeed.”

“Our payload will be a mixed air-air and air-ground load: Four AMRAAMs and two IRIS-Ts for air-air, six 250 kilo Paveway bombs for air-ground, plus a 1000-litre external fuel tank along the centerline. Charlie flight, you’re the odd one out as you’ll have twelve Brimstone missiles in lieu of bombs. Now, on to the plan. After wheels up at 0700 and topping off from the tankers at Tanker Track SHELL, we’ll report in to AWACS callsign HUGIN and then meet up with the transports at Point RINGNES, here, at 0815 hours and begin the escort. Once we cross Point HANSA, here, the transports will decend from cruising altitude to tactical altitude, 200 feet AGL, and cross over into enemy territory. From HANSA, we’ll proceed course 180 to Point MACK, then turn to course 205 on to Point FRYDENLUND. FRYDENLUND is the Initial Point, from which the transports turn to course 250, pull up to drop altitude and reduce speed to drop speed for their final run. This is the critical moment where the transports at the most vulnerable. Time over target: 0900 hours.

“At H-hour, the Paras will begin parachuting onto three separate drop zones around the airbase, from which they will move out to their respective objectives and capture the airbase. In the first fifteen minutes of the operation, under our cover, a whole brigade of paratroopers, three thousand men, will parachute in onto the airbase and hopefully overwhelm the defenders. As quickly as feasible, elements of the Seventh will break out from the bridgehead and attack the city of Kungur, twenty-two kilometers to the west, intending to block the beforementioned crossroads and prevent enemy escape.

“As for us, we will follow the transports back to friendly lines once they’ve disgorged their payloads, top off at SHELL again, then return to base for hot turnaround. Our overarching mission for the next few days will be to cover the division and keep the airbridge open until the remainder of the Army has caught up and relieved the Seventh Airmobile Division, estimated to take place within ninety-six hours. Prepare for between five and seven sorties per day for the next few days, with an emphasis on ground-attack and close air support. The Paras depend on us for their survival. Let’s not let them down, shall we?”


Grand Hotel Perm
No 55 Ultisa Petropavlovskaya, 614000 Permskiy Kray, Republic of Perm
15:00 – Saturday, 6 June, 2020

The war had not been beneficial for the Grand Hotel Perm, one of the top rated hotels in the Permian capital city and a favored place for foreigners who could afford it to stay at. Since the start of the war, business had slowed up considerably, and dried up almost completely after the heathens started bombarding locations within the city itself. Now, the hotel had only three guests occupying some of its five hundred fifty rooms. Twenty-three year old receptionist Anastasia Doberva was quietly wondering why she even bothered showing up for work anymore when the telephone suddenly rang. That was a sound she hadn’t heard in the better part of a week, so the brunette just stared mesmerized at it for a moment before she remembered that she was supposed to answer it. Clearing her throat as she picked up the phone, she

“Гранд Отель Пермь, выступает Анастасия. Чем я вам сегодня могу помочь?” (”Grand Hotel Perm, Anastasia speaking. How may I help you today?”)

“Good afternoon, do you speak English?” a male voice said in unaccented English.

“Yes sir, you’ve reached Grand Hotel Perm, this is Anastasia speaking. How may I help you today?”

”Ah excellent. Yes, I’d like to make a reservation please.”

“A reservation, okay. When will you be arriving sir, and for how many nights?” Anastasia asked, pulling up a reservation sheet on the hotel’s computer system.

”About a week from now, and its going to be for a while I’m afraid,” The voice said.

“No problem sir. About a week, so around the thirteenth?”

“Yes, that sounds good. I can change it if I arrive earlier, I hope?”

“Yes sir, for a surcharge of one hundred rubles. How long do you plan to stay with us?”

“At least two weeks, maybe longer.” The man said. ”I think I forgot to mention it, but this is a group reservation. I hope that’s not an issue.”

“No problem sir. How many people in your group?”

”About three hundred persons.”

Anastasia went wide-eyed as the man said the number. Something wasn’t adding up here…

“Okay sir, that’s no problem. What name should I put in the reservation?” Anastasia asked.

“You can put that reservation on the Commanding General, Eighth Corps of the Royal Cottish Army.”

“Is this a joke?!” She demanded.

”No madam, no joke.” The voice said, hearing some laughter in the background. ”We’ll be arriving in Perm City inside of a week, we’re tired of living in tents, and we’ve heard a lot of good stuff about your hotel.”

[Cotland]

Operation TERMINUS
Chirki Airfield, 617600 Ust-Kishert, Republic of Perm
09:00 - Sunday, 7 June, 2020

The Permians suspected that something special was brewing when the heathens intensified their strikes against the eastern-most sectors in the rapidly shrinking front area. Despite the near continuous presence Cottish aircraft had over Permian territory after nightfall when the few remaining Permian planes had to withdraw due to lack of proper night-vision equipment and subsequent rampage wreaked upon the Confederate… well, in all honesty Permian… war machine as it tried to replenish the day’s losses.

The Cottish fighterbombers and multirole fighters that roamed the skies were challenged by Permian air defences, but the Cottish gave as well as they received, often attacking SAM batteries in exchange for losing a plane or two. The worst was the crazy savages that did what the Cottish called SEAD – Suppression of Enemy Air Defences. These lunatics were literarily spoiling for a fight with the SAM sites, flying high and tempting the air defence gunners. When someone inevitably gave in to the temptation, the lunatics returned the favor, attacking with electronic countermeasures and anti-radiation missiles before coming in for a cluster-bomb run. Even jamming or shutting down the radars as was Permian doctrine pre-war did not help, as the cursed missiles the Cottish used had home-on-jam capability and remembered the location of the radar signatures it tracked. It was already having a horrible effect on the remaining Permian air defences, and now these insane pilots were out in force! Elements of nine of the Cottish squadrons identified as having SEAD as a primary mission were up and about this evening, prodding the Permian air defences and spoiling for a fight. Another ten squadrons of multirole fighters and fighterbombers were out and about, striking targets and suppressing the airbases at Serga and Chirki, preventing them from doing anything and targeting their air defences and defensive positions. It seemed to the Permian High Command that the Cottish were trying to put the two airbases out of commission, something which would be an awfully bad thing indeed. Serga was home to the bulk of the surviving attack helicopter force and a squadron of fighters, while Chirki housed the remaining interceptor force. Through the night, the Cottish planes roamed freely, while artillery rockets and cruise missiles slammed into other targets scattered around eastern Perm.

As dawn broke on the seventh of June, the attacks uncharacteristically did not subside. Quite the opposite, they increased in strength as further Cottish and some of those cursed Layartebian aircraft appeared in the skies over the FEBA (forward edge of battle area) and picked up the mantle. Was this the start of a new general offensive, the Permian generals wondered in their deeply buried command posts. Whatever it was, the airbase personnel at Serga and Chirki were forced to seek shelter in their bomb shelters while the air defence gunners took potshots at enemy aircraft that strayed too close. The blasted heathens had knocked out the radar sets at both airbases, so the gunners were forced to rely on the backup manual sights on their guns, while the SA-11 GADFLY SAM batteries at the airbases were quickly becoming attritted into extinction as the blasted Cots fired anti-radiation missiles and cluster bombs at their launchers whenever they were detected like there was no tomorrow.

By 08:30 in the morning, the Permian radar operators at Oktyabrsk Airfield started to understand why the Cottish seemed so hellbent on attacking them, as they started to make out what had to be a massive formation of aircraft appeared on their single surviving long range 9S15 BILL BOARD air surveillance radar, forming up norht of the FEBA some 150 nautical miles to the northeast. From the size of the formation and the large radar signatures, it had to be a massive formation of either bombers or transports escorted by fighters. It took some time to get the word out, having to rely on buried landlines to call it in to the Sector Air Defence Command, thence to Air Force Headquarters, and then to High Command, before it was disseminated back down to the other airbases. By then, it was too late to stop the events that the Cottish had put into motion. Most of the FLANKER and FULCRUM fighters had been blocked from taking off from Oktyabrsk, Aspa and Tsjernusjka airbases by cluster bomblets liberally spread across the runways overnight by Cottish cruise missiles, and what few aircraft did manage to take to the skies were immediately challenged by Cottish Raptor air superiority fighters, blocking them from challenging the approaching formation.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the air northeast of Chirki Airfield, a few minutes before 9 o’clock, the paratroopers in the back of the Hercules tactical transport were struggling to hold on for dear life as the Hercules jinked and janked a mere 200 feet over the ground, following the terrain at max speed in an effort to get to the drop zone intact. The Paras had been issued barf bags by the crew chief when they waddled aboard, laden down with an average of seventy kilograms worth of parachutes, weapons, jump packs and equipment needed when they reached the ground, and most of them were grateful, having made full use of them by this point. Suddenly, they could feel the aircraft pull up steeply before levelling off and flying level. The illumination inside the aircraft suddenly shifted to red, and the jumpmaster gave the hand signal to stand up. With some effort, the Paras got up from their seats and turned to face the two jumpmasters at the back, before going through the motions of hooking up to the appropriate guideline running the length of the cargo hold on both sides, conducting a final buddy equipment check on the man in front of them, and then sounding off.

As this was going on, the cargo ramp in the rear was being lowered, and the large “traffic light” over the rear cargo ramp turned on, showing a bright red. The Paras were making their final mental preparations when the jumpmaster spoke quickly into his helmet-mounted mic. A second later, the traffic light turned to green, and the jumpmasters slapped the shoulders of the first man in the two rows of Paratroopers – the chalk’s officers leading the way, as was tradition – while the two pallets in the extreme rear of the cargo hold were pushed out. The front man waddled forward immediately after the pallets and stepped off the ramp, followed by the next man, followed by the next man, and so on.

To disgorge 95 Paratroopers from the Hercules took less than sixty seconds, generating two relatively neat rows of static-line paratroopers floating to the ground under a green round canopy. After checking that his chute had deployed and that his lines hadn’t tangled themselves – they hadn’t – Captain of Paratroopers Leo Danielsen took a second to look around and saw an awe-inspiring sight of literarily hundreds of parachutes holding men under floating down to the field two kilometers south of the airfield’s southern runway.

Floating down from the jump altitude of 600 feet didn’t take long, and Captain Danielsen braced for the impact and rolled when he hit the ground, just like he had learned in the Army Parachute School at Skogmark and in the twelve practice jumps he had conducted since. Following his training, he immediately got to his feet and got out of the parachute rig, gathered the chute and dropped it where it lay, and got his kit and weapon in order before hauling ass over to the rally point, marked by purple smoke by the Pathfinders that had been inserted two days earlier and identified the drop zones.

Captain Danielsen was a company commander with E Company, 2 Paratrooper Battalion, Tvermarks Feltjegerregiment, assigned to the “Kongeørn” Paratrooper Brigade 72. His company had been tasked with securing the air traffic tower and the airbase command post, located just a tad over a kilometer away, so the follow-on Air Force Combat Air Traffic Controller Party could put the airbase into operation for the airlanding part of the operation. To ensure that no unit would be destroyed by the shootdown of a single aircraft, the various subunits had been crossloaded onto the transport aircraft, meaning that the Hercules carrying Danielsen into battle had contained half the Company HQ and Second Platoon, plus a section of mortars from the Battalion Mortar Platoon with its weapon and ammo, an engineer section with breaching kit, and a medical element. Thus, the first order of business was to gather with the rest of his company, get them in order, and get them moving as quickly as possible before the enemy got over the initial shock and started offering resistance.

At the rally point, Captain Danielsen found that the bulk of his company HQ and platoons had already gathered. At an estimated 80% strength, Danielsen decided it had to do. A Sergeant was left behind to gather up the remaining stragglers and follow as quickly as possible, while Company E moved quickly towards its objective. Their first obstacle was the base’s perimeter fences, which were quickly breached by use of wirecutters, allowing the Paras to advance quickly. The next obstacle wasn’t as simple to remove, in the form of a Permian PK machine gun nest covering the approaches to the base command post, but a canister round from a Carl Gustav recoilless rifle silenced the PK and allowed the advance. Speed was of the essence, and any resistance was immediately and mercilessly gunned down by the Paras. The door to the large command building was locked, but an HE round from a Carl Gustav took care of that problem, followed by a few 40MM HE grenades fired into the breech to take out any welcoming party before the Paras stormed the building. Spreading out, the company quickly started clearing the building while a reinforced rifle section made a beeline for the air traffic control tower, making its way to the top without encountering much resistance, and upon reaching the top finding it empty.

The controllers were found by another rifle section sweeping through the basement, finding the controllers along with almost everyone else stationed in the command building huddled in the building’s bomb shelter. After a bit of yelling in broken Russian and threatening gestures with rifles and hand grenades, conveying the general message that resistance would mean death, the Permians managed to get the message through to the Cottish Paras that they surrendered and that they didn’t want to die. The result was that Captain Danielsen could report to his battalion commander that his mission was accomplished less than half an hour after landing at Chirki.

While many places were abandoned with the Permians seeking shelter from the bombing in the respective buildings’ bomb shelters and subsequently surrendering, other places offered more resistance. For instance, it took judicious use of the mortar platoons to silence the surviving AAA guns that swung around to ground attack role to try to resist the Cottish before the paratrooper companies had to go into action and mop up remaining resistance, but the sheer number of troops landed – three battalions of Paratroopers plus supporting units – inside of twenty minutes overwhelmed the 400 Permian airbase defenders, and within two hours, all resistance had been mopped up and Chirki was declared secured. The operation had been a resounding success, capturing the airbase virtually intact with very light casualties on the Cottish side. Two Hercules’ reported taking light flak, but rocket-armed Viper multirole fighters and Skorpion ground attack aircraft quickly suppressed the responsible AAA guns.

At noon, three hours after the first Cottish Paratrooper landed, the Royal Cottish Air Force expeditionary airbase squadron had established itself on the newest airbase in the Cottish inventory and swept the runway sufficiently to allow landing transports.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the course of the day, while the Paratroopers moved forward and dug in for a counterattack, Cottish-occupied Chirki took down over 200 sorties from transport aircraft, landing more troops, heavy equipment and supplies. By nightfall, the bulk of the 7th Airmobile Division had been transported to Chirki and fortified themselves around the airbase and the nearby villages of Ust-Kishert and Posad.

Overnight, the helicopters belonging to the division’s Air Assault Brigade 13 and the Divisional Helicopter Brigade would fly in, taking advantage of the established SAM-free corridor and allow Cottish attack helicopter sorties to roam behind the enemy’s lines and make life very difficult for him. At the same time, the attacks along the FEBA intensified as the Cottish Eastern Army Group renewed its offensive.

By dawn on the 8th of June, the Permian First Army realized the dangers to its rear and began a general withdrawal from the positions along the Sylva River, over which they had fought so hard for the last month, and pulled its three remaining mangled reduced divisions back to positions around Perm City, blowing the remaining bridges over the Sylva as they withdrew. While the Permians would insist that their field army conducted an orderly retreat, there was nothing orderly about it. Traffic jams, near panic, plummeting morale, and constant Cottish air attacks on the columns further decimated the Permian First Army. Further northwest, the remnants of the Permian Second Army held a sliver of land north of the Kama River around Perm City measuring only 25 kilometers in depth, being constantly pressed by two Cottish Corps. To the south, two Cottish Corps had bottled up the Permian Fifth Army around Izjevsk, while the survivors of the Permian Third Army – two reduced divisions – had withdrawn across the Kama to the relative safety of the eastern banks of the Votkionsk Reservoir. The Permian Fourth Army had been destroyed in situ, with its last two divisions surrendering to the Cottish 16 Corps at Kirov after a savage two-week urban battle that left 40% of the city destroyed.

The endgame was approaching for the Republic of Perm.

[Cotland]

Southeastern Republic of Perm
22:16 (Local) – Wednesday, 10 June 2020

Operation TERMINUS had caused the desired effect for the Cottish generals, in that the Permian Army had retreated towards the remaining cities and towns as quickly as possible. Two days after the operation started, after the Paratroopers with heavy air support had stopped a Permian counter-attack towards Chirki Airfield cold in its literal tracks, the Cottish First Army relieved the Paratroopers at Chirki as leading elements of the 52nd Armoured Division reached the forward Para positions outside Kungur. The 52nd Division had led the Cottish advance down the P343 Highway, covered by attack helicopters and air power as the division’s heavy vehicles covered the 141-kilometre-long march in less than four hours after waiting for the Army Engineers to bridge the Sylva River after the enemy blew the bridges as they retreated. Finally though, the beleaguered Paratroopers could greet the rumbling 60-ton STRV123 Panter tanks as they came rolling down the highway, flying Cottish flags and regimental streamers from their whip antennas as a form of IFF.

The relief of the 7th Airmobile Division allowed that division to be returned to Army Group reserve, as four full Cottish Armoured and Mechanized Divisions rolled down the P343 Highway over the course of the day. Along the way, Cottish infantry following the armoured thrust down P343 had peeled off to capture and secure the towns of Lysva, Serga and Kormovische, thus securing the Cottish flanks and allowing for follow-on forces to exploit the wedge. The most important thing the thrust allowed was the isolation of the Permian capital city from the rest of the country. A narrow sliver of road along the eastern bank of the Kama river allowed the capital to connect to the rest of the country, but that road was under continuous surveillance and bombardment from Cottish forces that had reached the western side of the river, thus making such an adventure particularly perilous.

By nightfall on the 10th of June, two of these divisions task-organized under the Cottish 2 Armoured Corps, the 52nd Armoured and the 38th Mechanized, had reached the Permian capital’s forward defences at Bershet’, 25 kilometers from the city limits, thus completing the de facto encirclement of Perm. To the north of 2 Armoured Corps, the Cottish 8 Corps had pushed the Permian Second Army to the outskirts of Perm City along the northern bank of the Kama River, while 17 and 14 Corps’ covered the western and eastern flanks of the city along the Kama and the Serga Rivers, respectively. All of Perm City was now under direct threat from Cottish artillery fire, and the Cottish corps-level artillery brigades began systematically destroying military targets within Perm, forcing the civilian populace to seek shelter in the city’s bomb shelters. The strategic encirclement of Perm City was thus achieved. Against them stood three reduced Permian Motor Rifle Divisions, an Air Assault Brigade, the Presidential Protection Brigade, and the last remaining territorial reserves hastily conscripted from the city’s general population.

As this was taking place, other elements of the Cottish Army pushed out from the “bridgehead” at Kungur and sought to eliminate the last remaining vestiges of Permian airpower. Over the next two days, the 22nd and 64th Mechanized Divisions would overrun the last three airfields in southeastern Perm and sweep across the eastern bank of the Kama, securing the last of the open Permian territory.


Izjevsk, Republic of Perm
08:05 (Local) – Saturday, 13 June 2020

The Battle for Izjevsk had been ongoing for fifteen days, with the thirty thousand defenders of Izjevsk forcing the Cottish Sixth Army to make a fight for the city after completely surrounding the city. Gradually, and with mounting casualties, four Cottish divisions had started moving into the city of 647,000 inhabitants. After getting a truce in place to offer the defenders a chance to surrender and, failing that, allow the civilian populace to escape along humanitarian corridors established for thus purpose. After being reminded that he would be held personally responsible for any civilian casualties if he refused, the Permian garrison commander finally acquiesced to the Cottish offer at letting the civilians go in direct contravention to his standing orders from President Termjakov. However, the Permian General had informed the Cottish Corps Commander during the negotiations, his honour as a Permian officer did not allow him to surrender while he still had the means to resist. With over half a million civilians evacuated, the thirty thousand defenders had plenty of food and supplies to wait out any siege, making that a moot point. Thus, it fell to the Cottish Army to finish the job. The Cottish plan was to slowly strangle the defenders to surrender, which was achieved by capturing the suburbs first before having to take the city block by block, street by street, building by building. It was a slow-going, bloody slog against determined defenders, including what seemed to be Permian Special Forces, but in the end the Cottish determination and lack of qualms at employing overwhelming and devastating firepower against the Permian defenders carried the day.

After fifteen days, the morning advance was halted as a Permian delegation carrying white flags approached the forward lines where Cottish and Permian infantry had been fighting. An impromptu ceasefire was agreed upon while the Permian delegation was allowed to go back to the Cottish headquarters (under armed escort) to negotiate terms for surrender.

At the divisional headquarters of the Cottish 12th Mechanized Division, located at Brigada Samolet, the Permian delegation consisting of three officers (two of whom were lightly wounded) formally requested terms for surrender from the Cottish. The reply from the Cottish Corps Commander, who had been consulted beforehand, was clear: Immediate and complete unconditional surrender of the city and its garrison. In return, the Cottish would accept responsibility for the health and wellbeing of the prisoners and all wounded. If refused, the Cottish general conducting the negotiations stated plainly that they would raise the black banner over Izjevsk and take no prisoners when the city was finally captured. The black banner was an ancient Cottish martial tradition where all warriors fighting under the banner would take no prisoners and had the authority to kill anything and anyone that came in their way, including prisoners. It hadn’t been raised by a Cottish army for over two hundred years, but it remained a legal tactic for the Cottish generals. Under orders to accept whatever the Cottish demanded, the Permian delegation accepted the terms and were permitted to return to their own lines to make the necessary arrangements.

Thus, at noon on June 13, the defenders of Izjevsk surrendered and with them, the last remaining functional Permian army formation outside Perm City. Izjevsk had been devastated by the heavy fighting, but no civilians were allowed to return to their homes until four days later, after the Cottish Army had completed collecting all weapons and equipment used by the Permian defenders, secured all necessary locations, and demolished as much of the leftover explosives and unexploded ordinance as possible. Then, and only then, were the civilians permitted to return to start the long process of rebuilding their lives.


Perm, Republic of Perm
12:20 (Local) – Saturday, 13 June 2020

In the command bunker underneath the Yellow Palace, President Ruslan Termjakov had gathered what remained of his war cabinet for a cabinet meeting. Out of a nominal war cabinet of twenty-seven persons, only nine had appeared for the mandatory meeting. Some of the absences were expected, as the invading Cottish had managed to kill or capture at least five of the ministers, but others had no excuse. Investigations by the KGB uncovered that while some had decided to simply stay at home and ride the rest of the war out, something which had been swiftly decided by a kangaroo court to be treason and defeatism and subsequently punished by summary execution, others had disappeared without trace and were suspected of having slipped through the front lines and escaped the city. This had caused a scene of rage from the increasingly pressured Permian President that scared even the closest of his advisors. Eventually, the President ran out of steam and collapsed into his chair at the head of the conference table. Taking a deep breath, which generated a bout of coughing from the thick cigarette smoke that permeated the atmosphere in the bunker, Termjakov demanded a situation update from the Chief of the General Staff, recently promoted Colonel General Gorbajev.

The Colonel General had already been promoted a step above his competence level when he was made Lieutenant General and Corps Commander five years ago, but with the untimely death of General Karlov, being politically reliable, and having no one else immediately available in the capital, Gorbajev had been given the assignment.

«Товарищ президент!» (“Comrade President,”) The General started. «Наши доблестные силы сдерживают врага у Кояново…» (“Our valiant forces are holding the enemy at bay at Koyanovo…”)

«Кояново ?! Это всего в двадцати километрах от нас!» (“Koyanovo?! That’s only twenty kilometers from us!”) Termjakov cried out, working himself up into another bout of rage.

«Двадцать пять, Товарищ . Как я уже говорил, наши доблестные войска сдерживают врага у Кояново…» (“Twenty-five, Comrade. As I was saying, our valiant forces are holding the enemy at bay at Koyanovo…”)

«Вчера вечером они держали их в страхе у Бершета!» (“They were holding them at bay at Bershet’ yesterday evening!” )

«Это было вчера вечером, Товарищ. Могу я продолжить?» (“That was yesterday evening Comrade. May I continue?”) The Colonel General asked, to which Termjakov only nodded while lighting yet another cigarette. By now, he was smoking between sixty and eighty a day.

«Мы сдерживаем врага на оси, идущей от Большого Савино через Гамово, Кояново, Броды до 11-й развязки. На севере, враг вошел в городе надлежащий на Орджоникидзевском городском округе, но предлагает территориальные исследования жесткого сопротивления. К сожалению, противнику удалось захватить Химикинскую ГЭС, обеспечивающую город электричеством. Далее наши силы отражали попытки прорыва через мосты из Ленинского и Кировского районов города. В настоящее время в Пермском городском гарнизоне насчитывается сорок одна тысяча триста девяносто вооруженных боевиков, а еще пятьдесят тысяч призывников находятся под контролем КГБ. По оценке Генштаба, мы с этими силами можем удерживать город до десяти дней. На этом мой отчет заканчивается ». (“We are holding the enemy at bay along an axis going from Bolshoye Savino via Gamovo, Koyanovo, Brody, to Interchange Eleven. To the north, the enemy has entered the city proper at the Ordzhonikidzevsky City District, but the Territorials are offering stiff resistance. Unfortunately, the enemy has succeeded in capturing the Khimiki Hydroelectrical Power Plant, which supports the city with electricity. Further, our forces have resisted attempted penetrations across the bridges from the Leninsky and Kirovskiy City Districts. At present, the Perm City Garrison stands at forty-one thousand three hundred ninety armed effectives, with another fifty thousand conscripted territorials under KGB supervision. The General Staff assess that we with these forces can continue to hold the city for up to ten days. This concludes my report.”)

«Это просто Пермь. А что с Ижевском ?!» (“That’s just Perm. What of Izjevsk?!”) Termjakov demanded. «Мы все еще боремся в Ижевске!» (“We are still fighting in Izjevsk!”)

«Товарищ президент, мне сказали, что вам сообщили…» (“Comrade President, I was told that you had been informed…”) Gorbajev said reluctantly, swallowing profusely before continuing. «Ижевский гарнизон сдался четыре часа назад». (“The Izjevsk Garrison surrendered four hours ago.”)

Termjakov’s jaw just moved up and down, his brain struggling to formulate words as he struggled to process the information. Eventually, he just sat quiet smoking the cigarette as he processed the information. Tensely, the rest of the war cabinet remained perfectly quiet in anticipation of the coming rant and quietly wishing they had managed to muster the courage of their erstwhile peers in escaping while they still could.

The expected rage never came. Instead, Termjakov asked about the status on the forces. The reply was devastating. What remained of the Permian Republican Army was the Perm City Garrison, which consisted of exhausted understrength units which were lacking in equipment and ammunition. The last of the IRBM launchers had been destroyed by the cursed Layartebian Air Force yesterday, removing that card from the President’s hand. The Air Force had effectively ceased to exist two days ago. The KGB had its hands busy trying to protect the government installations, its own installations, and ensuring the loyalty of the conscripted territorials to do much about the increasingly civilian insubordination fermenting in the beleaguered city. The city’s hospitals were overflowing with wounded soldiers and civilians. Food shortages were being reported, and civil unrest was increasing. As for the stay-behind elements in the occupied areas, none of the groups had reported in as ordered, and they did not respond to comms checks from the General Staff. The conclusion Termjakov reached was that the extent of the previously omnipresent Permian Government now reached about as far as its weapons could shoot.

With an order to hold out as long as possible, Termjakov ended the war cabinet meeting just after one o’clock in the afternoon. It would be the last war cabinet meeting of the war.

[Cotland]

Chapter 4: Endgame

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Då den store
stig på domstolen,
han frå det høge,
som heimen styrer.
Han saker sætter
og domar sèt,
sèt vé som alltid
vara skal.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Royal Palace
Oslo, Capital Region, Realm of Cotland
11:30 (Local/10:30 GMT), Monday, 15 June, 2020

Ordinarily, the Royal Council with the King and the complete Cabinet in attendance were convened on Fridays, though it was not unheard of for the council to convene when pressing matters of state required it. Today was one of those days.

Following the standard ritual where the King formally welcomed and greeted his council, the Chancellor opened the proceedings.

“Your Majesty,” Chancellor Andreas Riis Dahle spoke as he got down to business. “As Your Majesty is aware, the Eastern Army Group has effectively conquered the Republic of Perm. The only area remaining under the control of the Permian government is their capital city which is currently under siege. Fighting there thus far has been brutal, despite it being mostly confined to the outskirts of the city. A few hours ago, the Government was informed by the Commanding General of the Eastern Army Group that the Perm City defenders have requested a cease-fire to negotiate terms of surrender.”

A rush of elation went through the combined Cabinet. Most of the ministers had not been privy to the news yet, but suddenly they understood why the Chancellor had insisted on the news being treated by the combined Cabinet. Under the articles in the Constitution, only the Monarch had the right to start and stop wars on behalf of Cotland, and the terms of surrender dictated to the defenders of Perm City would effectively end the war. Thus, the terms had to be presented and approved by the King in Council for it to be constitutionally acceptable.

“I see,” King Sverre said, smiling as he stroked his beard, as he was apt to do when deep in thought. In his mind, he was going over the various alternatives and outcomes. “What is the Council’s recommendation?”

“Majesty, I think the Defence Minister should present the alternatives.”

Defence Minister Thomas Leikvang stood and bowed in deference to the King before starting.

“Your Majesty, the situation on the ground is as follows. We have three Corps, Second, Eight, and Fourteenth, surrounding the city proper and its surroundings with ten divisions. That’s almost half a million men under arms, ready to start a full-scale urban battle. Opposing us are just shy of forty thousand exhausted and demoralized Permian troops with another estimated thirty thousand hastily mobilized, poorly trained, and poorly equipped territorials that hold the line at gunpoint. Additionally, there are still an estimated half a million civilians inside the city, which are rapidly running out of food.

“If we can avoid fighting in the city, that is by far the preferable option, but if needed, we can take the city by force. And the Permians know this, judging from the communications intercepts our forces have made coming from the city. The point, Your Majesty, is that we sit with a Royal Straight Flush on our hand while the Permians have a pair at best. That puts us in the position to demand whatever we want, and the Permans can’t do much about it.

“With this backdrop sir, it is the considered opinion of the Defence Ministry that we should instruct Eastern Army Group to point to the civilian suffering that is on the hands of the defenders of Perm and demand the immediate and unconditional surrender of the city as well as the Republic of Perm and the Confederacy of the Urals. The Permian military and security forces shall lay down their arms and give up any further resistance. We should also demand that the Permian government are to be immediately arrested by the Permian military and handed over to our forces, and that the Republic of Perm submits to Your Majesty’s mercy in the form of Cottish military occupation pending decision on its future.”

King Sverre nodded as he looked over the document outlining the reasoning. Clearly, this document had been prepared some time in advance. A sign of how confident the Cottish had become in victory over the past few weeks following the surrender of Niezgorodskaja.

“Does anyone have any objections to this proposal?” The King asked. “Chancellor?”

“Your Majesty, I concur with the Defence Minister.” Riis Dahle replied.

“Very well,” King Sverre replied. “If this proposed demand is presented and accepted, the war will be at an end. If they refuse the demand, we shall be forced to take the city by force and countless thousands will die as a result. Therefore, I want the whole Cabinet to make their opinions known on this. If you have objections, now is the time to speak. Not later. Now.”

With that, King Sverre got a candid assessment from all twenty-three ministers, and learned that apart from the three ministers from the Social Liberalists party who had qualms about the possible loss of life if the Army would be forced to conquer the city by force, the rest of the cabinet stood behind the proposal made by the Defence Minister.

In the end, King Sverre gave royal assent to the demand, which was promptly transmitted eastwards to the Eastern Army Group.


Command Post (Forward), Cottish First Field Army, Eastern Army Group
Chernaya, Cottish-occupied Republic of Perm
16:45 (Local/11:45 GMT), Monday, 15 June 2020

In the forward headquarters of the Cottish First Army, established in a field just east of the village of Chernaya, the Permian delegation of three officers led by a Permian Major General sent to seek terms of surrender were being held isolated inside a tent a bit away from the command post while the Cottish awaited instructions from Oslo. The officers had been treated respectfully according to the unwritten internationally accepted rules of civilized warfare, having been disarmed but treated with the respect due their rank and offered refreshments by the Cottish. Still, they were being kept isolated inside the headquarters area and were not allowed to leave the tent, which they had found was surrounded by barbed wire and polite yet firm armed military police troops. So, they sat in the chairs under the dim light of a kerosine lamp inside the warm heavy wool tent in the summer heat and waited.

After having waited for hours, a Cottish officer finally showed up to escort them back to the Cottish Commanding General. As they entered the tent, the Permian officers quickly realized that the Cottish were filming this for posterity. Sitting behind a table in clean camouflage field uniforms was an assortment of senior Cottish generals. Seated in center was fifty-six-year old Colonel General Antti Kemppi, Commanding General First Army; fifty-two-year old Lieutenant General Emil Sandvik, Deputy Commanding General First Army; and fifty-five-year old Lieutenant General Edin Andersson, Chief of Staff of the Eastern Army Group. Behind the generals, a large Cottish national flag had been hung as a backdrop, and a large portrait of King Sverre looking regal and stern in full parade uniform hanging next to the flag overlooked the scene. Along the sides of the tent were uniformed Cottish officers standing at parade rest, Generals commanding the various Cottish Divisions and Corps surrounding the city judging from the golden rank insignia on their chests. In a corner, a combat camera team were quietly capturing the whole scene for posterity and tonight’s international news cycles.

Swallowing their pride and resolved to face defeat with dignity, the Permian delegation stopped two meters from the table, came to attention, and saluted the Cottish generals. The Cottish senior generals seated behind the table rose to their feet and returned the salute, before sitting back down. The Permians were not offered seats, nor were there any available for them.

Speaking in accented but understandable English, Colonel General Kemppi started speaking, reading from a document in front of him.

“Your request for terms has been reviewed by His Majesty’s Government, and we have received a reply. By His Majesty the King’s High Command, I am instructed to inform you of the terms of surrender set forth by His Majesty King Sverre in council.

“First, the Republic of Perm and the Confederacy of the Urals shall immediately and unconditionally surrender to the mercy of the Realm of Cotland. All fighting and resistance shall cease, and all Confederate units shall lay down their arms and cooperate with His Majesty’s Armed Forces in an orderly transition to peace.

“Second, the Armed Forces of the Republic of Perm shall immediately take into custody and transfer to the custody of His Majesty’s Armed Forces the cabinet and leadership of the Republic of Perm. Likewise, all elements of the KGB shall be taken into custody and transferred to the custody of His Majesty’s Armed Forces. Further, the Armed Forces of the Republic of Perm shall immediately secure and prevent destruction of all government and security forces property, archives and documents, and hand these over to the custody of His Majesty’s Armed Forces.

“Third, the Republic of Perm shall be submitted to military occupation of the Realm of Cotland at His Majesty’s pleasure.

“These are the non-negotiable terms set forth by His Majesty’s Government. Failure to accept and completely comply will result in the ultimate and inevitable conclusion of the war by conquest. All future loss of life and destruction of property will be the responsibility of the Government and Military of the Republic of Perm. You have until midnight local time tonight to accept the terms. Refusal to accept in full will result in the continuation of the war. Failure to reply in time will be considered refusal. Betrayal of the terms after acceptance will be severely penalized.“

The General nodded, and a junior officer stepped forward and handed a piece of paper containing a copy of the Cottish terms to the senior Permian officer. Maintaining a perfectly neutral composure, the Permian general nodded and spoke in heavily accepted English.

“I shall forward this message to my government. By your leave sir?”

The Cottish general nodded, to which the Permian delegation once again saluted before being escorted out from the tent and from there back to the frontline, where an uneasy ceasefire had lasted throughout the day.


Perm City, Republic of Perm
22:55 (Local/17:55 GMT), Monday, 15 June 2020

”Товарищи солдаты! По приказу Генштаба всем верным пермским солдатам приказано прекратить огонь и немедленно отойти на свои плацдармы! Несоблюдение будет считаться государственной изменой!” (”Comrade Soldiers! By order of the General Staff, all loyal Permian soldiers are ordered to cease fire and withdraw immediately to their staging areas! Failure to comply will be considered treason!”)

Starting just before eleven o’clock in the evening, the same message was being transmitted over all Permian radio nets, the few remaining civilian transmitters still in Permian hands, and even by trucks with mounted loudspeakers, driving around the city sending out the same message. Soon, it was complemented by a message that the fight and the war was over, and that no further resistance should be made.

After giving the Permians an hour to get the message out and let the Permians pull out from their fighting positions, and after verifying that Permian forces were indeed pulling back to their respective staging areas, First Army was instructed to move into the city and secure vital points. They were also instructed to crush any remaining resistance that they might encounter, and to take no risks.

Rearing to go, the Cottish Army started rolling into the city in force, moving steadily towards their respective objectives. In many cases, the Cottish Army encountered withdrawing elements of the Permian Army, and uneasy and tense situations developed but were mostly defused by the officers on the ground. Very few shots were fired during the night, and miraculously, no Cottish or Permian lives were lost at east other’s hands. The end result was that by sunrise at 04:11 local time, the Cottish Army had secured most of their initial objectives and started consolidating their positions.

It was clear for the Cottish that the Permian Army had taken the opportunity to clean house before the Cottish showed up. The KGB headquarters bore signs of heavy fighting, and dozens of bodies dressed in KGB uniforms were found stacked up outside the building. Unfortunately, it seemed that the KGB had managed to wipe their archives and done a good job at burning most of their paper archives, making things more difficult for the Cottish.

As they showed up at the Yellow Palace, the Cottish found a reduced battalion of Permian infantry holding the building. After yet another tense moment, the Cottish company commander stepped forward and, under the barrels of the platoon of four Panter tanks he had attached to his infantry company, the Cottish Captain accepted the surrender of the Permian battalion, who informed him that he had in his custody most of the Permian war cabinet.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cottish national television
09:00 (Oslo time/08:00 GMT), Tuesday, 16 June 2020

All major networks in Cotland had been informed overnight that King Sverre would address the nation at 9 o’clock the following morning on a matter of national importance. Consequently, all networks cleared their slots for the statement, which was also live-streamed on various news outlets’ websites.

At exactly 9 o’clock, King Sverre appeared on the screens across Cotland and the world. Dressed in his uniform as a Field Marshall of the Realm of Cotland, with the Great Sword of the Realm laying sheathed in its sleeve in front of the King, it heralded the message to come.

“My fellow Cots.

“Forty-eight days ago, our country was savagely, viciously and dastardly attacked by the Armed Forces of the Confederacy of the Urals. Preceding this, the Confederacy had undertaken a cowardly and underhanded campaign of terrorism within our borders that cost the lives of over a thousand of our brothers and sisters.

“Forty-eight days ago, I vowed to defend the Realm and its citizens against future attacks and bring the guilty parties to justice.

“Forty-eight days ago, the Realm went to war with the Confederacy.

“Today, it is my joyous duty to inform you all that our struggle has been crowned with victory! Yesterday evening, the last remaining elements of the Confederacy of the Urals surrendered unconditionally to my Armies in the East. The war has thus reached its conclusion.

“The erstwhile Confederacy of the Urals will remain under administration for the time being, following the outcome of the investigations and what they will reveal. Until more permanent arrangements can be made, the erstwhile Republic of Perm will remain under Cottish military administration as an occupied territory of the Realm.

“The war is at an end, yet the work continues. The investigations into the terrorist attacks this spring continues with undiminished resolve, and those responsible for the attacks will be arrested and brought before the courts to face justice.

“With this said, I must emphasize that the people of Perm are not our enemies. Our fight has since the very beginning been with the Government of the Confederacy, not its people. Therefore, I have ordered that the civilian population of the occupied territories be granted the Constitutional rights and protections afforded to all my subjects.

“To my Armed Forces in the East, I wish to send a special thanksgiving. I thank you all for your valiant and brave service to a grateful nation over the past months. Many of you were called away from your ordinary lives when the nation called, and you loyally answered. It is ultimately your struggle that has been crowned with victory, and I thank you all for your bravery, devotion, and self-sacrifice. We shall do all in our power to get you back home to your families and lives as quickly as practically possible. Until that time, I ask you to continue your loyal service with the same proud devotion to duty that you’ve displayed thus far.

“Today is a day of celebration and joy, but it is also a day to remember the lives lost in our fight for justice and the right to national self-determination. Over sixteen thousand brave Cottish men and women have laid down their lives on the altar of freedom and justice. They gave their lives for their country, and I grieve for every one of them. I ask that you keep them and their families in your thoughts and prayers to the deities you believe in.

“The war is over. Now begins the long road to bring the guilty parties to justice, and for the nation to transition back to peace. Let us continue to work together to build a successful peace.”

[The Kingdom of Apilonia]

Captain Samantha L. Manson, M.D., RAMC
98th Army Field Hospital
Cottish-Occupied Perm
Tuesday 16th June 2020, 1300hrs Loal Time

---

It had been a long couple of months since Major Hunt and his team of Apilonian trauma surgeons had arrived in the theatre, and it felt like it had been far, far longer. In many respects the days had begun to merge together, as night and day had no real distinction any more as traumas could come in at any hours. Instead, any semblance of a routine was provided by the cycle of an offensive being ordered, casualties pouring in, followed by the field hospital packing up and moving further forward as the front-line advanced. If there was one thing that was a constant to life in a hospital, it was that sleep was to be taken whenever possible; on a spare bed, on the ground, wherever there was somewhere flat and a quiet moment. The only difference was that there was no home to go to after the end of the shift, for the shift never truly finished, and it would not be until the war was won, or until they were rotated away from the front. It was, almost, like the most catastrophic civilian emergency that could be encountered by a trauma surgeon, but one that dragged on for days on end with little respite.

For Captain Manson, the most distracting thing was less the complete lack of a routine, or the fact that she had not gotten any proper sleep in two weeks, was the weight of her sidearm, a Sig Sauer M18. Under normal circumstances a surgeon never carried anything that was not necessary, indeed in most cases they wouldn’t carry anything at all to ensure that there was no potential for contamination. It almost felt a complete antithesis for one committed to saving lives to carry a weapon that could take them, and yet it was necessary. The fluid nature of the frontline meant that there was a chance, slim given the momentum of the war, that the field hospital could be overrun by the enemy. Indeed, if this had been a conflict in which the Apilonian Army was involved, both Manson and Major Hunt would have been part of a forward surgical team, capable of deploying directly into combat to try and stabilise a casualty that would otherwise not make it back to surgeon, and the prospect of having to defend their patient was very real. Nevertheless, despite the fact that every year she had conducted her annual firearms certification during the summer battle camp for Army Reservists, Manson had never expected that she would even come close to using her weapon in combat.

As it was, the need to do so had not come to pass, and with the war very much going the way of the Royal Cottish Army it seemed unlikely that it would do. Nevertheless, it hammered home the hardest point to the young trauma surgeon; that the main thing that separated the patients that she had been treating from those she had treated, and saved, back home was that all of their injuries had been inflicted intentionally. It wasn’t that she had not dealt with a deliberate gunshot wound or stabbing before, but these injuries were something else that not even the shooting death of her older brother’s best friend, which had inspired her to become a surgeon, could compare. As Major Hunt had said, in the first minutes of the shooting war, they were facing thousands of years of humanity’s determination to develop more and more effective ways of killing each other, and that was no small task to say the least.

As such, Manson and her comrades had learnt early on that it was important to take what moments of quiet were available, and with no new casualties and all existing patients stable, she had slipped out from the trauma tent and into the fresh air. It was only a few feet away from the busy tent, and only a few dozen feet removed from the bustle of the rest of the field hospital, but it felt like she was a world away, detached, if only for a moment. It was these moments that had kept her sane, although she had often been able to hear the report of small arms fire, punctuated every so often by a larger shot or explosion as some offending position was destroyed. It was a chaotic symphony that she was only just starting to get used to having as the backdrop of her life, as it was at the moment, ebbing and flowing much as the course of the war continued on its way to its ultimate conclusion. Although she was no military strategist, possessing just enough military knowledge to justify her commission, it was obvious that the Realm of Cotland would emerge victorious from this conflict, it was just a matter of how much blood would be spilt in the process. And yet, all the indications were that the end would come soon.

Indeed, it had been this surety that had encouraged enough members of the Apilonian nobility and notables in the Senate to the belief that there was no need to put Apilonian combat troops into the theatre because the Cots could handle themselves. Although she was no warmonger, Manson could not help but feel that they had rather missed the point. It had been an odd coalition from the start, more cautious conservative Dukes had sided a small, but vocal, collation of liberal Senators to block the King’s desire for a declaration of war in order to participate alongside their long-standing friends, despite public opinion favouring such an action. The King had been furious, and if the rumours coming out of the Royal District were anything to go by there was going to be a constitutional shake-up in Parliament to say the least. Although the Kingdom was steeped in tradition, and there were more than a few constitutional aspects that were positively old-fashioned, the Kingdom was nevertheless a democracy and the Senate had foolishly given those who sought constitutional reform just the ammunition they needed to ram through changes.

“Well, you look deep in thought.”

Manson looked down from the sky, where she had been staring, unfocused, as she had indeed been deep in thought. She had recognised the voice of course, and sure enough Major Hunt was stood a few feet away from her, watching her with a bemused expression.

“Just thinking about this bloody war,” She sighed. “I still don’t know what the Confederates were hoping to get out of it… I mean do you think that what the Cot’s believe is true, that this was all about religion?”

“Religion will make people do great and terrible things,” Major Hunt shook his head, as he leant against a box of equipment. “Human history is soaked with blood over the fight for the ‘true’ god or gods.”

“But surely we’re beyond that,” Manson scowled. “It’s 2020… we’re better than this!”

“Some of us, maybe,” Major Hunt agreed. “Others not so much… take Al-Shams, for example.”

“But that’s different…”

“How, because they are Islamic extremists? Many of us in the West have become accustomed to seeing only the Muslims still killing people over religion, but that’s only because there’s not been a major religious war between Christian sects in a very long time, and perhaps because we, as a majority-Christian nation, have been able to peacefully co-exist with the Layartebians” Major Hunt said pointedly. “However, we know even from our own experience that religion can be a powerful motivator and easily twisted; just because those voices are largely dismissed, rightfully, in Apilonia as extreme does not mean that they could not be more easily accepted, particularly in those parts of the world where propaganda is already rife… just because it doesn’t happen for us doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

“There but for the grace of god, go I,” Manson quoted wryly, before grimacing as she realised what she had said and rolled her eyes with another sigh. “I guess as a Doctor, you can go one of two ways; completely devout or absolute atheist.”

“Just so,” Major Hunt agreed.

“I just don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” Manson admitted quietly. “The death… all these horrific injuries… intentionally inflicted…”

Major Hunt’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Have you not heard?”

“I’ve been in surgery for the past six hours,” Manson sighed. “Heard what?”

“King Sverre Is going on Cottish television,” Major Hunt replied, glancing down at his watch. “Pretty much now, I was on my way to the officer’s mess.”

Manson’s eyes widened a the implications, and she immediate stood which Major Hunt took as an indication that she was going to come with him to watch the address. Sure enough, the tent that constituted the officer’s mess was bustling with activity the field hospitals officers, both medical staff and their protectors, clustered around a handful of screens, or otherwise radio sets, to listen to their King speak. Although Major Hunt and Captain Manson kept their distance, knowing that it was only right for the Cots to get first dibs as being close to the screens, they nevertheless made sure that they could see a screen. Although they were both loyal Apilonian citizens, they had developed a deep and lasting appreciation for their Cottish comrades in arms, and they wanted to see the Cottish King as much as they would want to see their own by this point. Although they had not fired a shot in anger, which for trauma surgeons was a very good thing, they had contributed to the war effort so this was their victory too. Looking around, Manson could see the other Apilonian surgeons dotted around the space, those that weren’t still in surgery anyway.

Sure enough, it quickly became obvious that King Sverre was going to announce the end of the war; the symbolism of the sheathed sword of state was easily recognisable as Apilonia had a similar traditional symbolism. As much as it was a victorious speech, it was also a bittersweet one, given every man that had been lost to bring out about, and many of those that Hunt, Manson, and countless other Apilonian and Cottish surgeons, had been able to save would be left with serious, life-changing injuries. It was a great victory, and obviously far better than a defeat, but it was also a reminder of the abject horror of warfare. It was also a clear reminder that, although the war was over, there was still a great deal of work that would need to be done. Aside from the backlog of traumas, and other surgical requirements that would be needed, it was likely that a great deal of medical personnel would be re-deployed to start performing hearts-and-minds operations with the newly occupied population, who doubtless had been suffering due to various supply shortages, amongst other things. As far as the various Apilonian medical detachments that had been deployed with the Royal Cottish Army were concerned they would continue to serve, until such time as they were recalled by the Apilonian Army or relieved and sent home by the Cots.

As the King’s speech concluded Manson was silent for a few moments as she absorbed the news before her shoulders visibly sagged and relief flooded across her face.

“Thank goodness for that,” She said quietly. “I know we all knew that Cotland would eventually win, but…”

“But we didn’t know how long it was going to take, and that makes all of this feel like it’s going to keep going on and on without end,” Major Hunt agreed. “Whereas now we know that the war is over, and although we’ve still go work to do, it’s comforting.”

“It is,” Manson nodded. “It’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of weeks… it feels so much longer.”

“It does,” Major Hunt agreed. “But there is not, at least, light at the end of the tunnel.

“Understood,” Manson nodded again, glancing back across at one of the surgical tents. “I suppose we had best be getting back in there, we’ve still got a pretty packed board.”

Major Hunt nodded his agreement and the two Apilonian surgeons slipped out of the officer’s mess and began to make their way back towards their surgical tent. Although the flow of traumas was likely to slow and stop in the coming days, there were still countless surgical cases still in their care, and it would be all surgeons on deck to work through them, at least until they could be successfully evacuated to a proper military hospital back in the Realm of Cotland. But that was not a concern for a Major or Captain, they would just do their duty and leave the logistical and practical considerations to far more senior officers of the Royal Cottish Army.

“Where do you go home to?” Major Hunt asked, having avoided talking about anything after the war until it was all said and done, knowing that the last thing he needed was home-sick surgeons. “Once we’re all done here?”

“My work and apartment is in Boise, in the Duchy of New Caledonia, but my family also owns a cabin up in the Rocky highlands,” Manson replied thoughtfully. “I think I’ll take an extra few weeks leave from my hospital when we get back, have some me-time.”

Major Hunt nodded his understanding.

“I’m going to do much the same; my home is modest, but the land I own is right on the shores of Puget Sound, so its peaceful,” Major Hunt smiled. “I was thinking of getting everyone from our detachment together, once we get back, for drinks and a meal, to celebrate making it home.”

“That sounds wonderful, count me in,” Manson smiled in return, before stepping into the surgical tent and turning to her primary scrub nurse. “Alright, what’s next?”

[Cotland]

Perm City, Cottish-occupied Perm
09:00 (Local/04:00 GMT), Monday, 22 June, 2020

As morning gave way to day on the Monday of the first new week after the guns fell silent, the people of the erstwhile Perm Republic found themselves living in a time of great change and turmoil. Over the past days since the surrender of the Permian Army and thus the downfall of the Republic, the new Cottish overlords had been busy consolidating their positions and taking charge in the land. Cottish soldiers were still visible in the public areas, manning checkpoints and guarding areas they deemed important, and conducting patrols throughout the city, but to the surprise of the people of Perm, they had behaved themselves. There had been no looting or rapes, unlike what the Permian propaganda claimed, and the Cottish were acting in a firm but polite manner whenever they interacted with the Permian populace.

There had been a purge of the civil administration and all government entities, similar to that undertaken in neighboring Niezgorodskaja. To the average citizen of Perm, not very much change in the daily lives had happened so far, though there was a noticeable change in the mood of the people. The stores and supermarkets were being restocked daily with food and amenities, though rationing was still in effect for the time being. Furthermore, the continued reports of arrests of KGB officers and hiding government officials that had failed to surrender themselves to the Cottish were ongoing stories in the media, which led to people slowly but surely starting to dare to speak their minds freer.

There was a fly in the soup in the form that President Termjakov had disappeared before the surrender though. After searching the Yellow Palace, the Cottish soldiers had discovered a secret underground tunnel leading to a parking garage several streets away from the Yellow Palace, through which Termjakov had likely escaped through. A nation-wide manhunt was underway, and a reward in the sum of CRK 2,500,000 had been issued for any information that led to his capture and arrest. Tips were starting to come in and were being followed up, but thus far there had been no success.

The new leadership had been busy taking control of the land. Over the past week, the Cottish had mandated that all citizens of Perm above the age of 12 had until 1 July to report to their police stations to be issued new identification papers which would be the only valid IDs after that date which had to be always kept on their person and would be required for them to be issued rationing cards and other amenities. To the Cottish, this served a two-fold purpose. First, it gave them a more accurate count of the actual population and where they resided; and second, it made it easier for them to counter false IDs and rationing cards. The IDs being issued could be scanned and cross-checked with government databases, making them harder to fake.

The Permian Army had been formally demobilized following the end of the war, and the Permian troops being held in Cottish prisoner of war camps had been put to work cleaning up the detritus of war that ravaged the lands. Minefields were being cleared by the Permian troops under the supervision of Permian and Cottish engineers. Damaged, destroyed and abandoned military equipment left scattered across the battlefields were being collected into marshalling yards for further processing. Urban areas that had been damaged by war were being cleaned up by POW working parties under Cottish supervision.


Main Parade Square, Totma Air Base
Totma, Vologda len, Realm of Cotland
12:00 (Local/09:00 GMT), Monday, 20 July, 2020

A month after the end of the war, much had changed for the better. A low-scale insurgency had been attempted in three Permian cities, but rolled up by the Cottish security services and quashed after it failed to gain popular support. It turned out that most people enjoyed being able to know that there would be food on the table every day, that there was a job to go to, and that they could express their opinions without having to fear being thrown into a KGB cell, and thus the public support needed for the insurgency to work never materialized.

A month after the end of the war marked another turning point as the first of the prisoners of war captured by the Cottish started being released and returned home. The train connection between Cotland and Perm had been rebuilt and reopened, allowing for more steady transports of cargo and passengers, and at noon, the first repatriation train arrived at the Perm Central Station, carrying a thousand Permian ex-soldiers that had given their solemn word not to take up arms against Cotland ever again, been processed and formally discharged from service. The scenes of joy and tears as families were reunited with their long-lost sons back home safe were captured and broadcast that evening, being spun as another sign of the return to normality and a further step on the path of healing the relations between Cotland and Perm.

The detritus of war had been mostly removed from the battlefields. The minefields and discovered unexploded ordinance had been cleared, although at the cost of a few dozen POWs that hadn’t been careful enough and managed to blow themselves up, and the risks of loss of human life had been reduced. That wasn’t to say that they got every single mine and unexploded bomblet – for the next decade, there would be a few accidents every year as someone accidentally discovered a missed UXO and suffered the consequences, and even more where the Cottish EOD squads would be called in to make UXO safe.

This also meant that the Cottish could start the demobilization of their own million-man strong army in the east. Starting two weeks ago, replacement troops had started arriving in Perm after receiving advanced training in occupation duties in Cotland proper, ready to pick up the mantle as occupation troops to relieve the frontline veterans who were gradually being withdrawn back to Cotland for demobilization. The demobilizing troops first returned to their assigned demobilization stations in the Cottish provinces bordering the erstwhile Confederacy where they cleaned out and did the necessary reconditioning maintenance on their kit so it would be ready the next time the nation called, before handing back in the heavy equipment and kit to the respective depots, leaving them only with their personal weapons and kit, as well as captured war loot. Under the guidelines, the Cottish troops could keep military kit, flags, et cetera that had been legitimately captured, as well as personal weapons captured that did not exceed 8MM caliber. All loot was documented, and weapons looted that the soldiers retained would be duly registered and added to the national firearms register. Heavy weapons, crew-serviced weapons, ammunition, and explosives were confiscated and placed into the Cottish arsenals for later review. Some would be issued to the regimental/divisional museums and collections, some would be retained in the arsenals for a rainy day if needed, and rest would be scrapped. During the demobilization process, the soldiers were also given medical checkups and an interview with a psychiatrist and any injuries or traumas were documented for follow-up in their home provinces. Most of the soldiers were also given the option to remain in the Army full-time if they so wished, which a few accepted. Most of them were keen to get back home to their lives though. After the demobilization process, which took about a week, the troops were flown back home to their original mobilization location. After parading through their hometowns with military music flourishing, colours flying and the troops marching victoriously and proudly through streets lined with people cheering them on, the units formed up on their parade squares for the last time.

For the Cottish medical troops of the 98th Army Field Hospital, who had served in a “hearts and minds” capacity for the past two weeks as the number of wounded had trickled down to near zero almost overnight after the cessation of hostilities, the demobilization orders had been received a week ago while they were set up at the city of Votkinsk in southeastern Perm. After treating and discharging the last of their patients, the field hospital had been taken offline and started the demobilization process. After a roadmarch and a trainride lasting four days later, they were back in Totma where the field hospital had mobilized almost three months ago. Among their numbers were the Apilonian delegation that the Cottish had come to think of as part of themselves over the past months, standing out like a sore thumb in their Apilonian-pattern field uniforms as they were scattered across the parade formation – a testament and intentional choice to signify how well integrated they had become in the unit.

With their families watching, a General officer and two politicians gave rousing speeches outlining the nation’s gratitude to the soldiers for their service and selfless sacrifice and outlining the actions of the unit in the recent campaign. After the speeches, the General and politicians made their way through the ranks, pinning the campaign medals to each man and woman’s uniform, shaking their hand and thanking them for their service.

Each soldier and airman that participated in the war qualified for three medals: the European Star, awarded for “personal service in combat or combat-like circumstances on or near the European continent for a minimum of fourteen days”; the Defence of the Realm Medal for “service in the defence of the Realm of Cotland in a time of armed conflict with a foreign power for a minimum of thirty days”; and the Urals War Operations Medal for “military personnel having served in an organized unit for a minimum of thirty days of continuous service in the Confederacy of Urals Theatre of Operations”, plus a golden star for their National Service Medal to signify activation after completion of their national service. Those who had suffered wounds were additionally awarded the Purple Cross “for wounds inflicted by enemy action in combat or combat-like circumstances”. All these medals would count positively towards their state pensions, with those who had been wounded being awarded an additional small pension as a thanks from the State for their service and sacrifice. In addition to this came the many other medals being awarded for personal bravery.

When it came to the Apilonians, the General shook their hands and thanked each and every one of them profusely for their service and proclaimed each and every one of them as honorary Cots, having fought and suffered in the defence of the country, as he pinned the medals to their chests.

After the medal parade, the Commanding Officer ordered the 98th Army Field Hospital to attention one final time. Under their watchful gaze, the colours of the Field Hospital, flown non-stop as they leap-frogged across the Republic of Perm, were formally retired, and after thanking them once again for their service dismissed the troops from active service and allowed them to return to their homes and lives until the next time the nation called. For the Apilonians, still formally under orders to the Cottish Army until 1 August, that meant that a Boeing 737 was waiting at the airbase to bring them back to Petersborg for a week in a hotel for decompression, rest and leave before they were scheduled to return to Apilonia.

Similar scenes were taking place across Cotland as the Armies in the East were being drawn down from a million strong to an occupation force in the erstwhile Confederacy 150,000 strong. The veterans would be followed up by the provincial health services, working in conjunction with the military medical commands to try to prevent post-traumatic stress – another lesson identified after the Smolenski War.

[Cotland]

Nordhavn Naval Station
Nordhavn, Bjarmeland len, Realm of Cotland
07:30 (Local/05:30 GMT), Tuesday, 11 August 2020

The Eastern Annex of Nordhavn Naval Station was a base area used primarily to store decommissioned warships of the Royal Cottish Navy. Manned with a caretaker crew whose task it was to ensure that the preservation efforts made during the decommissioning process remained intact so that the warships could be returned to service relatively easily until such a time that they were either reactivated, sold to friendly powers, or more likely stricken from the navy list and towed away to a breaker’s yard, it was not uncommon to see people milling about in the Eastern Annex. This combined with the fact that the annex was a military area with photography restrictions and under armed guard meant that the Cottish Intelligence Service had long ago started to use the area as a clandestine site for interrogations and debriefings. Therefore, a number of the officers’ cabins aboard the ex-Leonard Hajn (F367), a Brakel-class frigate built in the 1970s and decommissioned in the early 2000s, had been repurposed into makeshift cells for high-value prisoners, guarded by a detachment of specially vetted Military Police.

During the night, another transport of “visitors” had arrived. The transports all followed the same pattern: the (un)lucky candidate identified as being worthy of special attention in a prisoner of war camp was isolated, handcuffed, blindfolded and fitted with heavy-duty ear protection before being transported from the POW camp onto an aircraft, and then onto a truck for a two-hour drive before being manhandled out of the truck. Still blind and deaf, the prisoner was utterly disoriented and exhausted from the journey as (s)he was being led through corridors and ladders. Finally, when the blindfold and earmuffs were removed, the prisoners would find that they were inside a grey-painted steel room measuring some three meters by two meters, containing a two-level bunk bed, a metal desk bolted to the wall, a cupboard with nothing in it, and a separate cubicle toilet and shower. There were no windows, every inch of the room (including the shower/toilet) was watched by CCTV cameras, and the illumination was a single fluorescent lamp which gave off a shrill sharp white light. The prisoner would be uncuffed and left to their own devices, and quickly found that the light could not be turned off, and that there were guards outside that would put a stop to any attempts at escape or self-harm – proof that the cameras were being watched constantly. The prisoners quickly surmised from the surroundings that they were on a ship of some sort, but where they were was a complete unknown. Food was delivered to the prisoner at irregular hours and always consisted of the same – oatmeal porridge – meaning that the prisoner would be completely disoriented as to whether it was day or night. They couldn’t even identify the time of day from the meal, since they got the same thing every time.

The prisoner would be left to stew for some time before they were fetched by two burly MPs, handcuffed behind their backs, and blindfolded once again before being led on a confusing journey through the ship until they ended up seated in a chair inside a dark and sterile room with a sharp light directly in their eyes and an undiscernible person sitting behind a steel desk asking them questions in perfect Russian. The prisoner, disoriented and weary, would then be subjected to a barrage of questions designed to wear them down and break them. It was a time-consuming and tiresome task, but it was technically within the limits laid down by the Cottish laws that they couldn’t torture anyone, and with the war being over, the Cottish had all the time in the world to do their interrogations. Only the Cottish Intelligence Service knew where they were. As they were prisoners of war and not arrested, the victims didn’t have the right to lawyers present nor the right to be presented to a court of law.

This morning’s victim was Oleg Andrejevitsj Khorsjev, a person suspected of being a bigshot in the Permian KGB, who had been subjected to this constant routine of interrogation for the better part of three weeks. The constant regime of questioning and poor sleep was starting to have the desired effect on the prisoner, whose iron facade was starting to crack. Finally, after a four-hour questioning session through the night, the prisoner broke.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” He finally pleaded, to which the interrogator pounced.

“I don’t believe you. You’ve lied to us since the start. Why should I believe you now?”

“I know where the President is.”

“Bullshit. You’re lying.”

“He escaped from the Yellow Palace on the night of the fourteenth of June, through the tunnels. I escorted him out of the city. I know where he is hiding now.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“The escape plan was called Pheonix. It was meant to ensure a continuation of government. We brought the President from the Yellow Palace, through the tunnels to a waiting ambulance in the garage. We knew that you wouldn’t shoot at an ambulance, so we hid him inside there. The ambulance drove down to Sverdlovsky, where there was another tunnel. We used the tunnel to get across to a hidden bunker at Golyy Mys, then through the woods to Brody and onto the Serga River. From there, the President hid on a waiting boat going down to Serga, and then off to Ashap.”

“So Termjakov is in Ashap?”

“No, Ashap was just a waypoint. From Ashap, we used the backroads through the forest down to Oktyabrsk, and then down to the border to Tartarstan. He crossed near Urshady on the night of the fifteenth of June. Right now, he’s in a safehouse in Tartarstan.”

“So you’re meaning to tell us that Termjakov isn’t even in Perm anymore?” The interrogator asked. “I think you’re trying to sell us a fake here. I think you’re lying. I don’t think that you know anything about Termjakov or his escape.”

“I can prove it.” Oleg said. “I have proof. If I provide you with the proof, you’ll get Termjakov. But I want something in return.”

“I’ll be back.” The interrogator said, leaving the room. A few minutes later, the interrogator returned.

“You’ll give us the proof we need. In return, we’ll turn off the lights and let you have some proper food and sleep.”

“Not good enough.” Oleg said defiantly. “I know there’s a reward for his capture, and that this proof that I have will lead to his capture. If I give this to you, I will be given the reward, released and put on a plane to Tatarstan.”

“You’re not in any position to be making any demands.”

“On the contrary. I know that you won’t find out by yourself, since I’m the only one left alive to know this information. The rest have been killed by your bombs or escaped with the President to Tatarstan. If I give you this information, I’ll take the reward, disappear from the face of the earth and I promise never to return to neither Perm or Cotland.” He said, a sly smile on his weathered bearded face.

“Or we could just keep this going a while longer, and you’ll tell us what we want to know.”

“I’d rather die.” Oleg said bluntly. “And if I die, you don’t get Termjakov. Or, you give me what I want, I give you what you want, and we’ll go our separate ways, never to meet again. Oh, and I want that assurance in writing before I give you anything more.”

Four hours later, a piece of paper lay on the desk before Oleg for him to read through, stating the terms of the clandestine agreement. In return for delivering actionable intelligence that directly led to the arrest of Ruslan Termjakov, when the ex-President was in Cottish custody, the Cottish Intelligence Service agreed to deport Oleg Khorsjev to Tatarstan along with a cash reward of CRK 2,500,000. If the intelligence didn’t pan out, there would be no deportation and no cash reward. Furthermore, the agreement stated, that if a word of this agreement was breathed by Khorsjev, he would be put on a watchlist as a terrorist by the Cottish and “kill-on-sight” orders issued on his head. Knowing that he wouldn’t get a better deal, Khorsjev agreed.

“Go to my safehouse at Ulitsa Startseva number 77, apartment 1759. No one knows about it except me. In the bedroom, in the floor inside the cupboard, there’s a safe. The combination is 15-77-28. Inside I have copies of the documents that prove everything I’ve said.”

Four hours later, after being allowed to return to his still lit cell, Khorsjev was returned to the interrogation room.

“We checked the apartment and found the documents you promised. We’re going over them now to ensure that they’re not fakes, so things will still take some time. Meanwhile, we’re going to give you some more privileges. Be advised though, that if these documents are fakes, you’ll quickly come to regret it.”

With that, Khorsjev was returned to his cell to find a meal consisting of a ham omelet with fruit and a glass of juice waiting for him. After eating, he found that the light switch to the cell now worked, allowing him to finally sleep in a dark cell.

As Khorsjev slept soundly for the first time in weeks, the Cottish Intelligence Service renewed its efforts to a given location south of Kazan, the capital city in the Tatarstan Republic. Satellites were retasked, and intelligence assets inside Tatarstan began scouting the location.

Tatarstan had remained out of the conflict that had raged to its north, having declared armed neutrality at the outbreak of war. It was no secret that the Tatarstan government were partial towards the Cottish side though, having been utterly disgusted by the revelations that the Confederacy had been responsible for the campaign of terror in eastern Cotland, but the Tatarstani populace was split evenly between condemning the Confederates for their actions and condemning the Cottish for their fighting a war over this, making this situation extra delicate.

If Termjakov did in fact hide in Tatarstan, it was likely without the knowledge or sanction of the Tatarstani government. However, the Tatarstani government wouldn’t be able to intervene directly without triggering widespread reactions internally. Indeed, the loyalties of the people within the Tatarstani government were so divided that the Cottish immediately dismissed any notion of informing the Tatarstanis of their suspicions. It was just as likely to tip off Termjakov and making him relocate once more as it was to trigger a Tatarstani arrest of Termjakov. If the Cottish really wanted Termjakov, they’d have to take matters into their own hands.

[Layarteb]

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OOC: Intending to do some major catch up here. This is the first of three posts to come. I hit the character limit!

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Sunday, May 3^rd, 2020 | 06:15 hrs [UTC+3]

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Ukhta, Komi | Vuktyl-4 Air Station
63° 34' 1" N, 53° 48' 15" E

Colonel Fordham had flown into Eastern Cotland a legend amongst fighter pilots but after his first day of combat, he'd achieved immortality. He entered the war with seven shootdowns to his credit, certifying him as an ace. Three of those shootdowns had come in the Great North American War, when he'd shot down three enemy fighters, two in the same air battle in the opening stages of the war and a third a few days later. In the opening stages of this war, he'd shot down two more fighters, bringing his tally up to nine, just a mere one kill away from being considered a double ace. Operation Revenant had brought him up to eleven, certifying him as a double ace after shooting down two Foxhounds and a Mainstay, the latter not counting since it wasn't an aircraft that could defend itself. Only aircraft that could counted to the totals.

Following his two sorties on the first day of the war, he'd sat out the next day, flying again on May 1 but on an otherwise boring escort mission. As Layartebian strategic bombers were being brought into theater to launch cruise missiles against targets in the Urals, command ensured they would be escorted at all times if they were within range of fighters and/or interceptors from the Urals. His sortie on May 1 was to escort a pair of B-1B Lancers delivering cruise missiles against command targets around Kirov. The bombers launched their weapons from well out of fighter range and then turned back and headed north and though there were Confederate aircraft in the skies, none of them threatened the bombers whatsoever, perhaps wise to the idea that they wouldn't be flying solo.

Now Fordham and his 57th TFW had drawn an escort sortie into the Pinyug Gap. After since the launch of Operation Gorgon, the most intense fighting was in the Pinyug Gap as Cottish ground forces rolled southwards into Confederate territory. In doing so, mission types changed. The Royal Cottish Air Force's primary mission became combat air support or CAS with a secondary focus on combat air patrols or CAP. SEAD, DEAD, and strike missions were still being carried out by the Cots but in increasingly sparing numbers as they threw the weight of their air force against CAS missions. In doing so, Layartebian aircraft in theater took up the slack, flying primarily CAP, SEAD, DEAD, and strike missions. Layartebian aircraft were also flying interdiction missions.

It wasn't that the Layartebians were ill-equipped to incapable of flying CAS, on the contrary, they had plenty of practice working with the Cottish under the banner of the October Alliance to perform the missions as well as any Cottish pilot. However, at the end of the day, the Cottish knew what they needed best and this war was personal to them and the best revenge was crushing the armored, mechanized, and infantry forces of the Confederate Army. The closest that the Layartebians came to CAS now was interdiction missions. If Cottish intel identified hostile ground elements but not in a direct threat location to their ground troops, they pawned it off to the ILAF otherwise it became a CAS mission and they took it. It was a good way to keep the Confederate Army from moving too many reinforcements into the region but also a way to keep the engaged troops away from resupply points.

This morning's mission was an interdiction mission to the area around Verkhnyaya Volmanga, where Cottish intelligence identified the presence of an artillery battalion. They were 130 kilometers from Cottish troops and thus no where near an immediate threat but, with their presence identified, there was no sense leaving them to their devices. The battalion consisted of eighteen self-propelled howitzers and a number of support vehicles, likely to be arranged as batteries. The battalion had three such batteries within which were three firing platoons of two guns each. It was likely that the firing platoons were well dispersed around Verkhnyaya Volmanga, which would make them hard to find. To top it off, they were also protected by an air defense battery consisting of four Tunguska and four Gopher units equipped with plenty of surface-to-air missiles to make attacking the battery a daunting task, especially since it was likely the strikers would need to orbit and locate their targets, making them vulnerable.

The strike thusly called for twelve Vipers flying in six groups of two. Two aircraft were assigned to armed reconnaissance and their job would be to identify and target the air defense units. Once they located them, they could levy cluster bombs or anti-tank guided missiles against them to destroy the units before they could engage the strike group. The remaining ten aircraft had a mix of Brimstone missiles, cluster bombs, and laser-guided bombs, which they would use to destroy the artillery guns and whatever support vehicles they had ordnance for after the howitzers had been destroyed. It would be up to Fordham, his RIO, and their three wingmen to escort them into and out of the target area, ensuring that the Vipers stayed alive.

Complicating the situation also was the range. The target area was just over 350 miles away and that meant Fordham and his wingmen needed to carry drop tanks with them, which they would jettison just before entering enemy airspace. Because the Vipers would be over the target for some time, Fordham and his wingmen needed to have enough fuel to not only orbit with them but also to dogfight if the Confederate Air Force showed up and it was highly likely they would. Like the Cottish, they'd shifted to CAS sorties, supporting their engaged ground troops just the same. Their fighters were now escorting the CAS attackers and with the intensity of battle in the Pinyug Gap, the likelihood of air combat remained high; after all, the Confederate Air Force still had plenty of aircraft remaining, despite the losses on the first day and since.

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Sunday, May 3^rd, 2020 | 07:30 hrs [UTC+3]

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Near Spasporub, Komi | 25 miles from Confederate border
60° 41' 7" N, 49° 8' 13" E

Fordham and his wingmen were cruising relatively slowly towards the Confederate border flying up at 40,000 feet. Around them were the Vipers, heavily loaded with air-to-ground munitions and thus flying slower than the Wraith pilots would have liked as a result. They were approaching "Steerpoint 3," which was an imaginary point on the map over the town of Spasporub. The town was significant because it was just north of a tank dumping area, which was where Fordham and his wingmen would jettison their fuel tanks just twenty miles from Confederate airspace. In doing so, their aircraft would become stealthy again as they entered enemy airspace clean and noses cold - meaning their radars were off and not emitting any detectable radio waves. The Confederate Air Force had decently sophisticated equipment with which to detect fighter radars and no one was too sure if the low probability of intercept radars on the Wraiths could be detected by the Confederate ELINT gear so there was no sense being cavalier when the Wraith's greatest advantage was its stealthiness.

The reason there was a designated tank dumping area was because the areas of Eastern Cotland weren't exactly unpopulated. If fighter aircraft just dropped their tanks wherever they pleased, the likelihood of dropping them on a populated area was significant. Thus, except in cases of emergency, such as being engaged or aircraft damage, pilots weren't allowed to drop their tanks except over designated areas. Reservist crews would trawl the areas and recover the tanks to ensure they did not present environmental or dangerous hazards to the local areas. Thus, approaching Spasporub, the four Wraiths flying from the 57th TFW were about to enter a five-mile zone for dumping tanks. They'd already primed and prepared their jettison systems, sucking the last bits of fuel that they could from the tanks so as to avoid wasting internal fuel for as long as possible. Those tanks were nearly empty and so it wouldn't be a tremendous waste of fuel to dump them now, albeit fuel would be wasted.

Crossing the steerpoint, Fordham looked down at his map indicator to see that he was now in the safe zone. A shaded area on the map designated a five-by-one-mile-long rectangle for tank dumping. The information had been programmed into the flight computer of the Wraith and so, as soon as Fordham and his men crossed the steerpoint, they counted down from five and then hit their jettison buttons. On each of the four aircraft, the external tanks and their pylons were suddenly released. The tanks were nose-weighted so that they did not simply fall off like a bomb and glide but rather fell nearly vertical towards the ground, which would reduce their glide range and keep them within the designated zone. It also made them fall rather quickly and recovery would be difficult. The Wraith's tanks carried with them a deployable drogue chute that would slow them down prior to impact but only just enough that they would bury only a meter or so into the ground and not become lodged in such a way that they were unrecoverable by the reservist crews on duty.

With the tanks dropped, they had around 95 miles to go to the target and their TOT was roughly 08:15, seventy-five minutes after they took off from Vuktyl-4 Air Station. Confederate airspace was only a few miles ahead and thus far, everything had been quiet, though it wouldn't remain that way. At the onset of the conflict, the Confederate Air Force had very wisely dispersed many of their ground attack aircraft to auxiliary and rough fields to avoid their being lost in offensive counter air or OCA strikes. They dispersed many of their Fulcrum fighters this way as well, opting to keep the Fulcrums back for escort duties and point defense. They thus relied on the Foxhounds and the Flankers, of which their numbers were increasingly dwindling, to fly CAP sorties against Cottish and Layartebian fighters. Not unlike the Cottish, the Confederate generals anticipated what might come and Operation Sudden Terminator netted fewer ground losses than would have otherwise been expected had the Confederates not acted wisely. One such rough field was just to the southwest of Kotelnich. It was there that a squad of fifteen Fulcrums and fifteen Frogfoots had been dispersed. Fully capable of rough field operations, the thirty aircraft were hidden underneath camouflage netting at various mounts along a makeshift, flattened runway of 4,500 meters, which was more than enough for any of those aircraft to get aloft. The longer runway meant that they could take a slower takeoff roll and still get aloft with a full payload. Running down a rough field at maximum power only increased the risk of damage to the aircraft and the Confederates didn't have enough left to lose to stupid accidents.

Roughly the same time that the Wraiths were crossing into Confederate airspace, airborne early warning picked up radar contacts over Kotelnich and rapidly called that out on their secure channels. "Enemy launch activity detected, bulls-eye, 250 for forty miles." Fordham and his RIO looked down at their map, at bulls-eye, and gave a rough estimate to where the targets were. Where they were going, on the other hand, remained to be seen.

"November Quebec, Hammer 1-1, advise on launch activity 250 for forty miles," his RIO asked.

"Hammer 1-1, possible bandits at very low altitude heading 345, contact intermittent."

"Solid copy November Quebec, will advise further action." Airborne early warning was having issues tracking the contacts not for lack of trying. Range was a concern and the area was at the edge of radar coverage for the airborne early warning plane, which was flying well into friendly airspace to avoid being a target. The aircraft that took off, a pair of Fulcrums escorting a pair of Frogfoots, were also flying at barely 200 feet above the ground, using ground clutter to help mask them as they skirted along at 500 mph, which meant that they were going to fly right through the target area around the same time that the Vipers were circling to locate the artillery guns, which would make them extremely vulnerable to the Fulcrums.

Of course, that was if the Fulcrums went in for the fight. The Confederate generals had shifted to defending their strike and attack aircraft, which meant that the fighter pilots flying escort weren't about to go glory hunting for air combat. It was unlikely thusly that the Fulcrums would deviate from their assigned mission unless the Vipers attacked them. Of course, the Fulcrum pilots couldn't know that there were Wraiths there as well. Their mission was Luza, where Cottish and Confederate troops were duking it out in a very heavy battle. The Frogfoots intended to provide close air support against Cottish armored elements and, if they arrived, were sure to cause havoc for the Cottish tankers.

It left little time for Fordham to decide but he didn't need much time. Looking down at the map and putting two-and-two together, he clicked on the intercom to his RIO. "Let's go get 'em!"

His RIO was on the same page and very rapidly, he got back on the radio, "November Quebec, Hammer 1-1, request permission to engage."

"Hammer 1-1, permission granted, IFF spoof negative, contacts confirmed hostile, full weapons release authorized."

"Solid copy November Quebec, contacts confirmed bandit, full weapons release authorized," his RIO answered. This was about an ideal situation as they could find. This meant that they could launch their missiles at beyond visual range. Even in the year 2020, with all of the technology that existed in air combat, no one could shoot at anything not visually identified unless they'd been given express permission to do so by AEW. No one wanted to launch AMRAAMs and see them target friendly aircraft in pursuit of a bandit. The AMRAAM didn't care if it was going after a Fulcrum or a Viper, it went after whatever it could once its radar turned on and saw targets.

Fordham looked out of his canopy and over to his wingmen. They were a four-ship formation, which meant they were flying in two, two-ship elements. This was the basic building block of all air operations. Within each two-ship element there was a lead and a trail. It was the job of the trail to protect the lead, watching his back while he engaged hostiles and vice versa if the trail was in engagement position. When two elements were combined into a four-ship flight, the odd numbered aircraft formed one element and the evens formed the other. Position one was always flown by the flight leader and position two by a deputy flight leader. If the elements were to be separated, the two flight leaders would lead their elements respectively.

Thus, in this arrangement, Fordham and his wingman, aircraft three, would be disengaging from the escort to engage the incoming bandits. Fordham cued up his radio and called, "Two, one, we're breaking off, stay with the package."

"Roger one, good hunting."

"Three, on me," Fordham answered and with that, he advanced the throttles slightly, rolled the aircraft to the port, and dove away from the group. He leveled off on a heading of 190° and an altitude of 35,000 feet while accelerating up to nearly 500 knots. His wingman stayed right with him and as they did, the RIOs turned on their radars and began to scan down low for the bandits. It took some time and some position changes, as well as direction from AEW but at a range of just fifty miles, the bandits were locked with enough signal for weapons release. Together, Fordham and his wingman each locked up a target and fired one missile each.

Because of the Fulcrums and the Frogfoots were flying so low and close together, the four aircraft appeared as two at this range so while Fordham launched his missile against a Fulcrum, his wingman launched his against a Frogfoot. Launched well into their no-escape zones, the AIM-120D AMRAAMs screamed towards the targets at Mach 4, picking them up as their radars went active. Both missiles homed in and slammed right into their respective targets, almost without warning. It was really only then that the Fulcrum and Frogfoot pilots, the only two left, realized they were being engaged. They'd kept their radars off to avoid being picked up and the Fulcrum pilots had been scanning their IRSTs for hostiles. They would have likely seen the Vipers as they got closer but they didn't see the Wraiths, chiefly because of the significant altitude difference between the aircraft groups.

Almost immediately, the two remaining Confederate aircraft broke. The Frogfoot broke hard and stayed low, keeping down below 200 feet and heading away from the incoming Wraiths. The Fulcrum pilot threw on his radar and ignited his afterburners, looking for the fight. In doing so, he maneuvered hard off his course and towards the incoming Wraiths, finally picking up their infrared signature as he threw the Fulcrum into a climb. Fordham's wingman locked up the Fulcrum and, with a better position, engaged while Fordham moved to cover him. The AMRAAM shot out of the Wraith's bay just as the Fulcrum pilot was flipping his own switches and dials to target his missiles. It was too late for him though. As he began to go through the laborious process of targeting his R-77s, his RWR began to bark that a missile was inbound. He pulled hard in the opposite direction but the AMRAAM had plenty of energy left and exploded underneath the maneuvering fighter. Like his comrades, the pilot ejected shortly after the missile exploded, mortally wounding the twin-engine fighter.

"Splash three," the RIO called out as Fordham looked to get the fourth aircraft. As they'd gotten closer, his wingman called out that there were four, not two aircraft, which they'd expected given the flight profiles they were seeing.

"Find me that fourth," Fordham called out to his RIO as he banked the aircraft. They'd dropped down to nearly 18,000 feet by now and were searching for it when his RIO called tally ho, meaning he'd sighted it.

"Eight o'clock low, moving away from us, locking him up now, range is ten miles," his RIO called out and there it was on his HUD, the targeted Frogfoot moving on the ground at near maximum speed. They locked up an AMRAAM and Fordham fired but the missile failed to connect, maneuvering not against the Frogfoot but into the ground instead. Fordham switched to his Sidewinders and in that moment, the tone of the Sidewinder filled his earpiece.

The Sidewinder had stymied Fordham thus far during this campaign but no longer. The Sidewinder normally sought out its target by sensing the infrared energy of it but in the Wraith, the Sidewinder was locked inside of a weapon's bay and thus, incapable of physically seeing the target. Instead, it would take its targeting cue from the radar of the Wraith and that information fed into the missile on a constant basis. The tone changed, indicating that the missile had a good lock, and Fordham fired. The side weapon's bay opened and the Sidewinder shot out, accelerating up to over Mach 2.5 in just five seconds. The missile's seeker locked onto the infrared signature of the Frogfoot and guided the missile right towards it. The range to the target was just five miles and the Sidewinder covered it quickly, leading the target and striking the Frogfoot on the port side just behind the wing. The explosion, in that instant, caused massive and irrecoverable damage to the wing and the Frogfoot, moving at almost 600 mph, immediately and rapidly turned hard to the right. Being so low, there was nothing the pilot could do. Before he could eject, his aircraft was nearly inverted and in a moment later, it collided with the ground, exploding on impact. "Splash four," the RIO said over the radio.

That brought Fordham to his thirteenth and perhaps his worst kill. It was the only one where he could actually see the death of the pilot. Most of his shots were at beyond visual range and so he could never see if the pilot ejected or not. He hoped they did. Even shooting down the Mainstay, where he knew the crew could not bail out, was at long range so he could not see their deaths. This was different and he didn't relish it. Pilots respected one another regardless of their nationality or which side of the war they were fighting on and so each one secretly wanted the other to eject. They wanted to kill the plane, not the pilot.

Fordham and his wingman broke off and rejoined their formation. By then, the Vipers were striking targets, having located most of the guns. In the end, they'd get all eighteen of them along with a number of support vehicles. All eight air defense units would be knocked out but at a cost of two damaged Vipers, one of which would limp home leaking fuel and another losing hydraulic fluid. Both were able to recover at alternate airfields and the mission was a success. With thirteen air kills now, Colonel Fordham was two away from triple ace status and with the pace of the war, he was almost certain to get it if he flew into enemy airspace.

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Monday, May 4^th, 2020 | 20:35 hrs [UTC-5]

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Langley, Virginia | Space Operations Command
37° 5' 19" N, 76° 22' 54" W

The Plesetsk launch had certainly come as a surprise to the Empire. Though there had been launch preparations underway for weeks leading up to the outbreak of war, the launch had been expected to be scrubbed with the outbreak of hostilities. When it wasn't, that made the Layartebians ponder what was on the rocket that was so important. They got their answer soon enough as a constellation of communications satellites were put into orbit, boosting the ability of the Cottish war machine to function in the midst of such heavy combat operations. It also showcased the ability of the Cottish to turn around a launch payload rapidly and under considerable stress. Under established launch parameters and safety requirements, the Layartebian Space Agency could have not accomplished what the Cottish had. The Empire's answer for putting additional communications satellites into space was its ERCS program that could launch UHF satellites into orbit atop ballistic missiles. Whatever missiles were assigned to ERCS were already preloaded with the satellites, which were getting quite old, having been redesigned in the 1990s and put into operational status in the early 2000s. Still, those were largely to allow nuclear warfare to function, not do what the Cottish had done here.

In Langley, Virginia, just astride the Langley Air Force Base, the Imperial Layartebian Air Force had its Space Operations Command. It was from here that the Layartebian Space Surveillance Network was monitored and where the ILAF tracked tens of thousands of artificial objects in Earth's atmosphere up to an altitude of 15,000 nautical miles. Data was fed to the Space Operations Command by dozens of radars, telescopes, and monitoring stations all around the world, including several satellites sitting in high-altitude orbit. Anything that was the size of a baseball or larger, approximately 10 cm in diameter, could be tracked and was tracked though new objects were appearing all of the time.

The Layartebian SSN was bolstered by the Cottish SSN and together, they had over 40,000 objects catalogued and tracked, including almost 9,000 satellites. Thus, most of what they tracked was debris and that debris was a major hazard to not only the satellites but also any space operations being conducted by manned spacecraft or space stations. The SSN also served a dual purpose to monitor space for ballistic missile launches and thus give either the Cottish or the Layartebians ample warning to an incoming attack of a ballistic nature.

The operations center for the Layartebian Space Operations Command was typical of operations centers around the world. The room was tall with a significantly sized map of the planet in the front. Various stations provided working consoles for the two dozen or so people who worked in the control room at any given point in time. Manned objects were tracked at all times and so were important satellites. Objects potentially in collision would be highlighted with advanced warning and operators could decide how to proceed. Thus, with the launch of the Cottish satellites, this event triggered a flurry of activity as each object was catalogued from radar data. The pieces of the Wotan-II rocket were also catalogued as they lingered in orbit, merely more pieces of debris into the atmosphere. Nowadays, there was an effort to put debris into parking orbits but that couldn't always be guaranteed depending on the launch parameters.

The Rimfakse was monitored too, it being a manned craft, moving throughout its orbits. The deployment of Phobos-7C was catalogued as it rose up to geosynchronous orbit. Each one was given a catalogue designation so that it could be referenced at any time. Whatever designations the Cottish gave these satellites would subsequently be added to the internationally accessible catalogue so that everyone could see the same data at any time.

What wasn't catalogued however, was COT-972 simply because it wasn't detected. The Cottish satellite was specially made to be difficult to distinguish visually but also on radar and so as COT-972 made its way into orbit, no one in Layartebian was more the wiser. Because of ongoing war efforts against the Confederacy of the Urals, the Confederate's only reconnaissance satellite was being monitored. The controllers in Langley wanted to be able to warn their compatriots on the other side of the world when to expect reconnaissance passes so that they could be ready. This ensured the Confederacy didn't get any information on Cottish or Layartebian operations. Passes were quick and well-rehearsed at air bases and on the ground so that when there was a pass, the Confederacy would get little in terms of useful information. It was likely that the Confederates were doing the same but they could only do so much. With so many satellites between Cotland and Layarteb, if they were to hide from every pass, they likely wouldn't get very far.

Everything seemed all together normal when, all of a sudden, the SSN registered an "anomalous event," which was a very vague way of saying, "something went wrong" and something had indeed "gone wrong." The Confederate satellite was sitting in an otherwise normal orbit over the equator at an altitude of around 250 km when all of a sudden, contact was lost. Not only was contact lost but radar returns indicated a significant number of smaller contacts where the Confederate satellite had been. To everyone in the control room it was very evident that the Confederate satellite had exploded or disintegrated. Things like this didn't usually happen though and so the only possible explanation was that there was a collision of significant energy, only there were no pieces of debris large enough to cause such a catastrophic event.

What the controllers saw but didn't realize what they saw was the collision between COT-972 and the satellite. The collision had enough energy to destroy both satellites on impact and, in doing so, released hundreds of pieces of debris into the atmosphere. Alarms went off in the control center as debris spread and pieces were automatically catalogued. Infrared sensors showed the moment of collision but not with what collided with the satellite for COT-972 was also stealthy against infrared energy. The Empire had satellites like this and they were equally as hard to detect. Time would eventually reveal COT-972's existence but not until careful review of tapes had been made and the only giveaway was the disappearance and reappearance of background stars as COT-972 got between those stars and the ground telescopes. This was all that one would see, all that could be seen of COT-972. The darkness in the space sky and the black finish of the satellite made it virtually impossible to see otherwise.

The collision completely put the satellite out of commission and wiped out whatever reconnaissance capabilities the Confederates had. By and large, the collision, being at such a low altitude, wouldn't mean much risk to other satellites. Most would re-enter the atmosphere and burn up within the next few months though some might linger for a while longer, likely being thrown into a higher altitude as a result of the collision. Those would eventually come back down within the next eighteen to twenty-four months but pose little risk to what was already up there.

Collision of COT-972 and Confederate satellite 04-MAY-20

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Friday, May 15^nd, 2020 | 14:00 hrs [UTC+3]

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Perm, Confederacy of the Urals | Zhulanovo
59° 56' 39" N, 56° 41' 5" E

Nearly two weeks into the war, the Cottish had made major advances and the Confederate Army was in a bad position. The Pinyug Gap had fallen by May 8 and the Cottish were pushing further to the south. The Confederate Air Force, still viable, continued to launch aircraft from seemingly out of no where to support ground operations but with each launch, they were losing more and more fighters, attack aircraft, and helicopters as combat air patrol reacted and shot them down. On top of that, the Confederate Air Force had lost another A-50 Mainstay, shot down by a Cottish flight of Vipers on a long-range penetration mission to do just that, which also netted them three Flanker and two Foxhound kills in the process. By all manner of speaking, the Confederate Army was losing ground in both Kirov and Nizhny Novgorod. Perm however, was holding out much better.

Cottish armored units had crossed the border and were moving southwards but they were only gaining 20 to 25 kilometers per day as the Confederate Army stood their ground and fought, making the Cottish earn every square piece of land they took but the Cottish tactics had largely been deciphered by the Confederate generals, not that they didn't know them going into the war. The Cottish relied on artillery to advance and they were making good use of it. On top of the artillery, CAS sorties were supporting where the artillery couldn't reach or where a heavier counterforce was required. For the Confederate Air Force, it wasn't necessarily Cottish armor that was a high priority but rather their artillery positions. Attack jets and helicopters sortied against artillery positions and it was near these that the Confederate Air Force was losing most of its jets now to a combined effort of ground-to-air defenses and orbiting fighter aircraft on CAP sorties.

To make matters worse, the Confederate Army was pulling its war reserve stocks of older air defense systems out of storage and rushing them to the battlefield. Two Layartebian A-10s were recently damaged by a ZSU-23-4 Shilka defending a Confederate Army position near Zhulanovo, which of course brought the area to the attention of command and what they found was striking, so striking that virtually everything was stopped for the Imperial Layartebian Air Force and they were thrown at the problem. Defending the area around Zhulanovo was certainly some ZSU-23s but also an entire SA-6 regiment with five missile batteries and a slew of MANPADs and Shilkas. They were there because the Confederate Army had an entire tank regiment buried into the area at Zhulanovo in hull-down positions just waiting for the Cottish to march south to Berezniki, which was a major target for the advancing Cottish Army. What resulted was Operation Cyclone River, a massive, multilayered air sortie into the area to neutralize not only the surface-to-air threat but interdict the tank regiment as well.

For the ILAF, this would require aircraft from three different airbases and, as the Confederate Army was being pushed further to the south, those bases were much closer to the front now. The operation had four key components to it. The first was arguable the most important. A pair of EF-26B Vultures would ingress into the target area equipped with chaff dispensing pods, jamming pods, and anti-radiation missiles. Their job was to saturate the area in both chaff and noise jamming, using their anti-radiation missiles to destroy the powerful search and fire control radars of the SA-6 batteries. The two EF-46s would be carrying eight missiles and eight chaff dispensing pods between them. The second was the SEAD component, which would see ten F-28B Vipers armed for SEAD and fourteen F-28B Vipers armed for armed reconnaissance. The SEAD aircraft would go for the SA-6 batteries in pairs, engaging not just the radars - if they were still intact - but the launchers as well. They would use a combination of AARGM and Brimstone missiles as well as cluster bombs. The armed recon aircraft would be going for the Tunguskas, the Shilkas, and the Gophers protecting the area, operating in pairs as well. Their primary weapon was their Brimstone missiles but they would also be using cluster bombs. The third component was the interdiction force, whose job it was to locate and destroy the dug-in tank regiment. This would be handled by a sizeable force of thirty-six aircraft. Twenty-four would be F-28B Vipers carrying cluster bombs, Brimstones, and Mavericks. Backing them up was a dozen A-10C Thunderbolt IIs carrying an array of ordnance including not only their 30-millimeter gun but also cluster bombs, Mavericks, and rockets. Since the A-10s didn't have a radar, the Brimstone was useless to them. The fourth and final component was the escort force, three flights of four F-25A Wraiths positioned at various points within the 74-aircraft group.

To put seventy-four aircraft to a single target area was difficult, to say the least. It would require a lot of coordination but also a lot of timing. Historically, the ILAF had some trouble on these large package raids but time had emboldened the ILAF to refine and redevelop its tactics. By separating the target area into various 3-dimensional grids, they could assign aircraft to specific functions and boxes. The Wraiths would stay high, guided to any threats by AEW. They would operate in three groups, one ahead of the strike force, one with the strike force, and one behind the strike force. Their job was to first sweep the air of bandits, then keep bandits away, and finally prevent bandits from coming up on their 6 o'clock as they egressed out of Dodge.

The slower moving A-10s would present a problem. Their longer loiter times and slower speed meant that they could not maneuver the same way the Vipers did. At the same time, they could achieve maximum effect on target because of their wider ordnance selection. The Vipers, and there were no shortage of them, would have to be cognizant of one another so as to avoid any collisions but they also needed to be working in pairs. They would fly shooter-shooter tactics but also be looking out for their wingman. In a situation as confusing as Operation Cyclone River was going to become, they had to master situational awareness. It was likely that all forms of triple-A would be coming at them in the form of gun rounds from the Shilkas and the Tunguskas, radar-guided SAMs from the Tunguskas and the SA-6 batteries, and IR-guided SAMs from MANPADs and the Gophers. It was going to be a massive shooting gallery and everyone within it was a target.

The flights took off in the early afternoon with an anticipated first TOT at 14:00. It was a daylight raid to ensure that maximum visibility could be achieved. There was a medium cloud deck, which might cause some spotting issues on the SA-6 missiles so missile warning systems and chaff dispensers had to be at the ready as soon as they entered the target area. Visually spotting the SA-6 was crucial to survival and the missile was fast and it was maneuverable. Simply pulling maneuvers wasn't going to defeat it. Pilots had to be on their jammers, had to drop their decoys, and they had to be aware of which way to maneuver. They needed to do a lot at once and they needed the space to do it.

When the strike force, codenamed Package Cyclone, descended on the target area, it was quiet. The Vultures came in first, their AN/ALE-41 pods dispensing chaff in and around the area, filling the sky with the fiber filament that confused search and fire control radars. Thus far, the SA-6 operators had been well-disciplined. They hadn't turned on their radars and they weren't looking to do so either, thus giving the Vultures no targets for their ramjet-powered AARGM missiles. Still, the Vultures would remain over the target area, saturating it with noise jamming and chaff, too high to be engaged by anything except the SA-6s.

Right behind them came the SEAD and armed reconnaissance force and that was when the Confederate Army decided they were going to play. In the midst of the heavy jamming, they switched to optical and infrared sensors. The Vipers coming in were hardly invisible and their engines weren't cold so they lit up on the infrared sensors while also being easy to spot on the electro-optical sensors. Still, they kept above 12,500 feet - the hard deck for this operation - to ensure they were out of the range of everything but the SA-6s. As they went to work, identifying their targets on their own FLIR and EO sensors, the SA-6s went active. The powerful radars of the SA-6 were able to get through most of the noise jamming enough that, when coupled with the additional sensors, they were able to achieve firing locks. Missiles screamed off their TELs and rapidly accelerated towards their targets. As they did, the Vultures launched their AARGM missiles but it was a race to see what would arrive first. True to expectations, chaos filled the air as Vipers dodged the incoming SAMs.

As they did, the SA-6 batteries, now visible and easily targetable, began to be taken out but they were inflicting damage. By the time the wave of Vipers had swept through the area and engaged the batteries and the point defense units, three Vipers had sustained major damage and were dumping their loads and going home, two were damaged but still in the fight, and one was down, its pilot and WSO ejecting over enemy territory, soon to be captured. Confederate Army air defenses blinked out one-by-one as AGM-65 Mavericks and AGM-169 Brimstone missiles slammed into them and as cluster bombs detonated overhead, peppering them with deadly submunitions. It was as this wave was mopping up, and the third was entering the AO, that the Confederates pulled one more card from their sleeve.

Twenty-five miles to the south was a small, auxiliary field just north of Berezniki. It's 1,500-meter runway had been struck by guided bombs and many of its support buildings had been bombed or struck by cruise missiles. Insofar as everyone was concerned, the dispersal field was out of commission. They were wrong. The Confederate Air Force had maintained the airbase as an emergency dispersal field and they'd built several underground hangars, each one big enough for just one plane. There were six of them and inside of each one was a Fulcrum, in perfect, working order. Repairs had been made to the runway by replacing damaged concrete blocks and filling in holes, compacting them with asphalt so that they could be traversed. The Fulcrum needed only 240 meters to get airborne with full afterburner and a light payload and so two of them emerged from their underground hangars equipped only with R-74 Archer missiles for dogfighting. They took off in formation but never rose above 150 feet, lighting their afterburners and moving at high speed towards Zhulanovo.

Because of ground clutter and the extreme angle of attack, they wouldn't be detected by the Wraiths until they were practically in the battle zone and, keeping at high speed, they quickly locked up aircraft and zoomed through the battle space, firing their missiles at whatever they could lock. Those missiles were difficult to defeat and one A-10C Thunderbolt II was brought down as it went into a dive to drop its cluster bombs, struck not by one but by two missiles. Missiles from the other Fulcrum damaged a Viper and caused the pilot to force a shutdown on one of his engines. He quickly turned to egress as the Fulcrums zoomed out of the battlespace and around for another pass, relying on their speed and maneuverability to harass the strike group. It was as they did this that the Wraiths came into action, screaming down at them in two pairs, full afterburner, radar and IRST locked on the Fulcrums. The Fulcrums wouldn't get any other kills over Zhulanovo but the pilots did eject and they were over friendly territory. Both highly capable and skilled airmen, they would be back in an aircraft in no time.

With the arrival of the Fulcrums and the losses to anti-aircraft fire, Package Cyclone didn't come out of the battle unscathed. Two airmen were now POWs, two aircraft brought down, and many others damaged and either en route to emergency diverts or still in the fight somehow. The Viper's ability to take battle damage was, thanks to this particular battle, quite remarkably demonstrated. The A-10 needn't prove itself any further and most of those in the air were damaged over the course of the battle by anti-aircraft guns and MANPADs. One A-10 was struck, lost an engine, and subsequently crashed on the return but not until it was over friendly territory, bringing the total losses to three aircraft. On landing, one of the Vipers landed hard and was damaged worse than it had been but it was not written off as repairs were possible.

The airstrip was added to the next targeting sortie and this time it would be hit by heavier ordnance, specifically targeting the underground aircraft vaults. Those vaults, now exposed thanks to a satellite pass, would be penetrated by cruise missiles on steeper angles of trajectory.

All-in-all, Operation Cyclone River proved a success. The tank regiment in question was reduced to only 40% effectiveness, four of the five SA-6 batteries had been completely destroyed and one put out of commission, all four Gopher and Tunguskas had been destroyed, and all but one of the Shilkas had been destroyed. While three aircraft were shot down and two airmen captured, the losses could have been worse, especially with the Fulcrum threat. They'd zoomed in quickly, at supersonic speed, and struck fast, using hit-and-run tactics for which the Fulcrum was designed for, especially with the Archer missile. Capable and deadly, the Archer proved itself more than adept at tracking on targets, even in the face of flares. While the Fulcrums themselves were no match for the Wraiths, had they been able to make a second pass, it was likely they would have downed two more aircraft.

---

• • • † • • •

---

[Cotland]

Petersborg Fortress
Petersborg, Ingermannland len, Realm of Cotland
10:00 (Local/08:00 GMT, Wednesday, 12 August, 2020

“The time is ten o’clock, the day is Wednesday the twelfth of August, twenty twenty. Present is Chief Inspector Jarle Reeder of Rikspolitiet, and…”

“Inspector Christine Fredheim, Rikspolitiet.”

“This is Rikspolitiets initial interrogation of Vladimir Karat, born eleven March nineteen seventy-two, who has been formally charged with waging illegal war upon the Realm, terroristic attack, conspiracy to commit murder, and conspiracy to overthrow the legally elected government of the Realm. The accused is present in the interrogation room, has been read his rights as directed by law, and is aided by legal counsel.” Reeder said to the camera and audio recorder in the old brick-walled interrogation room in the fortress that had guarded Cotland’s largest city for four hundred years. At present, it served yet again in secondary purpose of Cottish fortresses as the detention center for the high-level prisoners captured during and after the war. “If the accused would state his name for the record please.”

“Eat shit.”

“No, not what you want to do; your name. You do know that, yes?”

Silence followed.

“Are you not Vladimir Karat, formerly Colonel and commander of the Permian Army’s twenty-seventh Spetznaz Regiment?”

Silence.

“I’ll take your silence for agreement. The accused is represented by…?”

“Frank Bekker-Dahl, advokat, appointed by the court to represent mister Karat.” The fourth man in the expensive pinstripe suit said. “And I’d like to add for the record that my client has asked me to emphatically state his displeasure and lack of understanding for treating a soldier like a common criminal.”


Camp Sønsteby
Merga, Vologda len, Realm of Cotland
09:00 (Local/07:00 GMT), Monday, 17 August 2020

On the outskirts of the city of Vyterga near the shores of Lake Onega lay Camp Sønsteby. A large military base encompassing some 1,520 square kilometers, Camp Sønteby was the home of the Cottish special forces community. Two Special Operations Regiments, one Ranger Regiment, and three related training centres called Camp Sønsteby home, and the large airstrip in the outskirts of the base often hosted aircraft from the Royal Cottish Air Force’s special operations wings. Needless to say, access to Camp Sønsteby was not a walk in the park. The 150 kilometre perimeter was ringed by two layers of razor-wire topped fencing, patrolled by armed sentries with military working dogs, and several electronic measures to prevent access into the base outside one of the five manned gates. This was done as much to protect the public as it was to protect the state secrets hidden within the perimeter. In the southern part of the camp, the Cottish ran Special Forces and Ranger selection courses, as well as their version of SERE, meaning that there was activity and high-risk training taking place all year around. If a civilian foot-tourist were to wander inadvertently into a prospect special forces operative training on setting booby-traps, it would probably have a bad public relations repercussion and open the military to liabilities. That, plus the fact that the Cottish Special Forces community was very shielded from the public due to their clandestine nature of their work, meant that security was very tight all-year round at Camp Sønsteby.

That was something Major Kristine Jar-Hermodsen of the Royal Cottish Army, seconded to the Cottish Intelligence Service, was happy for as she flashed her ID and travel orders for the third time since taking off the turnpike outside the perimeter fence. Inside the camp proper, there were several other sub-camps with their own fences and security measures, indicating where the “super-secret squirrels” were hiding when not up to anything nefarious. The sentry looked over the documents carefully and then looked at the pretty Major.

“There’s a discrepancy here. The orders say your name is Jar-Hermodsen, but your ID says only Jar.”

“I recently got married, and the bureaucracy hasn’t caught up just yet.” She said with a smile, tapping on the golden wedding band on her right hand. The wedding had taken place just after the end of the debriefings (and the war) in June, and after a brief all-expenses-paid honeymoon to the Caribbean, both Kristine and her husband had been brough back into the mix. As specialists on the Republic of Perm who knew intimately the players and where the proverbial skeletons were buried, both Kristine and Karl had again proven their chops by being instrumental in rolling up the insurgency in Perm before it even got off the ground. They also knew enough to give the Royal Gendarmerie a good head start on the process of rooting up the organized crime organizations in Perm.

“I see. Please wait.” The sentry said before picking up his comms and speaking into it. Not many seconds later, the Corporal of the Guard came out and spoke with the sentry before disappearing back into the guard booth. Clearly, the massive tightening of security that had occurred in Cottish installations during the spring workup to war remained in effect, even two months after the end of the war.

After a small eternity, or so it felt, the Corporal of the Guard returned and approached the car.

“Major, my apologies for the delay. Everything’s in order, and you may pass through. Have a nice day madam.” The Corporal said as he returned the documents to Kristine and motioned for the sentry to drop the barriers and let her pass.

“Thank you,” Kristine said with a smile, having decided not to be a ‘Karen’ that the memes over from Layarteb ridiculed mercilessly just because the sentries were doing their jobs. As the crash barrier was fully recessed, the Corporal saluted as Kristine was allowed to enter the compound that housed Hærens Spesialjegerkommando (HSJK), known in international circles as the Royal Cottish Army’s Tier One Special Operations Force.

After finding a parking spot in the guest parking area, Kristine made her way to the five-floor office building, where the discreet sign outside betrayed was home to Headquarters and Headquarters Detachment, HSJK. Inside, Kristine found that the building was like most other administration buildings in the Cottish military, busy enough with people milling to and from meetings, working on the never-ending paperwork, and with everything permeated by the smell of coffee from the countless coffee makers – it seemed like every office had its own coffee maker. Even the office of the Colonel in command of HSJK had its own little coffee corner, Kristine found as the Colonel of Special Forces welcomed her. After getting a large ceramic mug emblazoned with the HSJK crest filled with coffee and placed in her hand, the Colonel got the meeting started.

“So Major, what can I do for the Intelligence Service? The message I got was very cryptic.”

“Well sir,” Kristine said as she gulped down a sip of the exceptionally good coffee. “The matter is extremely sensitive, and not suited for transfer across the ordinary message handling channels. Not this office either sir. Do you have a SCIF where we could speak more freely?”

“This room is authorized for SECRET.”

“What I have to say is TOP SECRET sensitive compartmentalized, sir.”

The Colonel just rose and motioned for Kristine to follow him. After a quick walk from the Colonel’s office on the fourth floor and down a staircase to the basement, Kristine found herself in a SCIF with way too poor air quality for this meeting to last much more than an hour.

“Alright, now can you tell me what this is all about?” The Colonel said as he sat down in one of the office chairs around the conference table.

“Yes sir,” Kristine said as she pulled out a deep red dossier and handed it to the Colonel. “As you’ve probably gathered, this is Top Secret sensitive compartmentalized information that is to be handled on a need-to-know basis by duly authorized personnel only. We’re gonna need your boys to go into the Tatarstani capital and bring Ruslan Termjakov back to Cotland, alive, without causing an international incident. Think your boys are up for it?”

HJSK had been kept busy for the opening phases of the Confederate War, as the conflict was now starting to become known as, by hunting down the last Confederate Spetznaz cells and lost three men in the process. After the Spetznaz were rolled up in mid-May, the Regiment had been kept in strategic reserve, thus denying them the chance to shine in the conflict. To say that they were eager to prove themselves and rectify that perceived slight on their regimental honour would be the understatement of the year.

“Certainly, Major. I have just the man for the job.”

[Cotland]

Outskirts of Kanasj, Chuvasia province, Cottish-occupied Niezgorodskaja
15:00 (Local/11:00 GMT), Monday, 24 August 2020

The industrial site west of the town of Kanasj in Cottish-occupied Niezgorodskaja was a hive of low-key activity as trucks came and went non-stop from the polymer plant that employed a sizable percentage of the city and municipality’s 66,000 inhabitants. A bit off to the outskirts of the industrial zone along a less travelled industrial road lay a cluster of warehouses where the odd truck rolled off to from time to time. Inside one of these warehouses, surrounded by a barbed-wire fence and CCTV cameras allegedly for the protection of the valuable equipment stored inside, C Squadron HSJK had set up shop. A mere 30 kilometers away lay the Niezgorodskaja-Tatarstani border, which the bulk of the seventy-two Special Forces operators of C Squadron would infiltrate come darkness.

Assembled in the tactical operations centre, or TOC for short, that the deployable command and support element of HSJK had established in the warehouse, the seventy-two “axethrowers” were quietly curious as to why they were gathered in this warehouse. They had trained non-stop for the past week up in Camp Sønsteby before being covertly transported via non-descript civilian airliners and vehicles via three different airports to end up in the warehouse, but they had not been told why just yet. All they had been told was to get their kit ready and muster in the TOC for a briefing at 1500 hours local.

A few minutes past the mark, the door to the warehouse’s office on the third floor opened and four persons came out and down the stairs to the warehouse floor. As they came closer, the operators identified that their squadron CO was accompanied by the Colonel himself and some other people, all of them dressed in civilian attire.

“Sergeant Major, is everyone here?” Major Stefan Nyyssönen asked. The Commanding Officer of C Squadron had been with the Regiment for the past seven years, having worked his way up from Platoon Leader and Squadron XO to Squadron CO, and earned his men’s undying respect and admiration along the way.

“Sir, C Squadron present and correct.” Sergeant Major (OR-9) David Lassen replied gruffly. The fifty-two year old grizzled Sergeant Major was technically past the age limit for frontline service, but had defied the regulations and staunchly declared that the only way they were taking him off the roster was over his dead cold corpse. The twenty-four year veteran of the Regiment backed up his claim by still being one of the fastest runners and best shots in the Regiment, a natural result of a skinny, sinewed warrior that competed in IronMan competitions for fun. This, combined with a deadly accuracy and actual combat experience with the Regiment that went all the way back to some pretty hairy and still highly classified operations during the Smolenski War in the mid-1990s meant that the Colonel waived the regs for Sergeant Major Lassen and allowed him to stay on with the sabre squadrons for as long as he felt like it.

“Very good,” Major Nyyssönen said with a smile as he motioned for the men to come closer and form a school circle as he handed the word over to the Regimental Commander with a polite, “Colonel sir.”

The Colonel nodded and looked over the group of men assembled. Seventy-two of the finest youth of Cotland, carefully selected from a crop of thousands of would-be volunteers and meticulously trained and prepared over a gruelling two-year selection and training program that weeded out another 80% of would-be candidates, resulting in a proportionately very small but extremely capable special operations force that arguably was among, if not the, best special operations force in the world, led by officers and NCOs that had gone through the same selection process and shared in their men’s hardships – and there were only men in the HSJK at present, though not for there being a ban on women serving. Indeed, a total of three women had made it through selection on the same requirements that the men faced and served actively with distinction in the Regiment for several years before either pregnancies or death removed them from active operator status. Of course, this fact was a closely guarded secret known only to a select few (though rumours were abound and occasionally asked by journalists, never to be answered per Ministry of Defence policy), as was the identities of these proud warriors standing before the Colonel.

“Good afternoon warriors!” The Colonel greeted the men, as was the custom in the Cottish military regardless of branch of service or specialization.

“GOOD AFTERNOON COLONEL!” The men replied proudly in unison.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering what all the hub-hub is about. You’ve been kept isolated for the past week and done a lot of room-clearing and infiltration training, but you’ve been deliberately kept in the dark for reasons what will become apparent for you shortly. But before we get to that, I want a show of hands. How many of you have kin or good friends living in the eastern provinces?”

Almost everyone raised their hands.

“How many have had someone they care for directly affected by the terror campaign before the war started?”

Again, almost everyone raised their hands.

“How many of you know someone that died or got badly hurt in the war?”

Everyone raised their hands.

“How many of you want to bring the bastards that were responsible for that to justice?”

Again, everyone raised their hands. Nodding, the Colonel smiled coldly.

“Good. Major?”

A pretty female with half-long brown hair stepped forward and looked over the assembled men.

“Gentlemen, my name is Katrine, and I’m with the Intelligence Service. Everything that follows is classified Top Secret Sensitive Compartmentalized on pain of death and all that stuff that I’m sure you’ve all heard a million times before. Do I need to go through the whole thing again?”

The operators grinned and shook their heads. They had heard the threats and warnings and all that many times before and knew the regulations by heart at this point.

“Good. Let’s get down to business them. We’re calling this Operation MARDONIUS. Allow me to present to you your target for this operation: one Ruslan Termjakov, former President of the Republic of Perm.” She said with a powerful voice as the portrait of Termjakov appeared on the projector screen behind her so the men could see.

“When the Republic of Perm fell two months ago, Termjakov disappeared without a trace. Locating him and bringing him to justice has been the number one priority of the Cottish Intelligence Service ever since. We recently had a breakthrough in locating him and have since confirmed Termjakov’s location. The problem is that he’s in Tatarstan and well guarded. That is where you gentlemen come into the picture.” Katrine said as she looked the men over. “Your mission is to capture Termjakov and bring him back to the Realm so that he can answer for his crimes.”

“We are to capture Temjakov alive. This order comes from the highest authority,” The Colonel added, using the phrasing that every Cottish military man knew meant that the order came directly from the King in Council, making it a Royal Command and thus not an order that could be refused or deviated significantly from. That in turn quashed any ideas the operators might have of dispensing some personal justice in the form of a 7.62mm bullet or ten.

“Intelligence indicates that Termjakov is holed up in a villa complex located here, on this peninsula just east of the village of Atabaevo, fifty kilometers south-southeast of the Tatarstani capital of Kazan. As you can see from the satellite imagery,” Katrine said as a plephora of satellite imagery appeared on the projector screen, “The complex is located on the edge of Lake Uljanovsk, and is accessible by a single paved road that connects to the main road about halfway between the villages of Atabaevo and Makarovka-Tashkirmen’. Synthetic Aperture Radar scans indicate that there is an underground bunker complex underneath the main building that connects it with these three buildings and an exit over here by the private jetty where we can see a sizable private yacht.”

“Excuse me,” One of the operators asked, raising his hand. “But how do you know that this is Termjakov’s place and not some Tatarstani drug baron or something?”

“Excellent question. We recently gained a source that said that this was where he had escaped to. Further investigation corroborated this claim. We have since aquired SIGINT intercepts that further support this hypothesis, and the jackpot came a week ago when we were able to capture this picture.”

A high-resolution picture taken at an angle of an elderly man sitting in a garden chair on the patio of the main building came up on the projector. Whether the image was from an UAV or a satellite was not quite clear, but the resolution was sufficient to allow a good comparison with the profile picture of Termjakov from earlier and showed the two as sharing an eerie similarity.

“Over the past week, we’ve captured pictures of this same individual every single day, including this picture,” A new picture showing the same person dining on the patio with a group of people, ”which is a mere two hours old. The confidence in our identification at this point is high enough that the National Command Authority has given the green light for you lads to go in and bring him back.”

“Now here’s the rub. The Tatarstani government does not know about this operation, nor will they until after it is all over. We simply cannot trust the Tatarstanis not to tip Termjakov off if we let them know beforehand, so you will be going in without the locals knowing. For all intents and purposes, you are going into enemy territory. Act accordingly. Colonel?”

“Thank you. As you’ve seen gentlemen, we’ve got our work cut out for us, which is why we’re sending in the entire Squadron. The opposing force is estimated to consist of some fifty combattants, plus a support staff of another twenty that may or may not be armed. Take no chances. If they have weapons or make any motion to offer resistance, drop them. The target may be accompanied by his family. We’re not interested in his family, only the target. He is to be brought back alive. Everyone else at the objective is considered expendable. As for Tatarstani forces, the closest police station is in the village of Tartarskiye Saraly, nine kilometers to the northwest of the objective, with between ten and thirty police officers on duty at any given time. Further police can be found in the police precinct in the town of Laisjevo, fifteen kilometers to the northeast, with thirty to seventy officers at any given time. The nearest military garrison is the Tatarstani Air Force annex at Kazan Regional Airport thirty-five kilometers to the north-northwest with Mi-8 HIPs and a rifle company for protection; and the Motor Rifle Regiment at Alexeyevskoye, forty-four kilometers to the east.

“Major Nyyssönen and his staff has worked on the operational plan for the past few days, and will now present the plan for you. Major.”

“Sir,” Major Nyyssönen said as he took the floor. “As you can see from the satellite recon, we have one point of entry by land here in the form of the road. That is guarded around the clock by a checkpoint manned by at least two men at any given time, with a wall and gate. We haven’t spotted any, but we must assume that the gate force has heavy weapons available to repel any intruders. A number of vehicles are parked here outside what we have identified as a garage. From the radar sat, the garage is connected with the bunker complex by tunnels. The sea frontier is blocked off by a set of double fencing along the perimeter, and we have identified roaming patrols patrolling the shoreline. The patrols may be supported by dogs. A number of smaller boats are located here, at the southern boathouse, consisting of mostly RHIBs. And, finally, we have the aforementioned yacht moored here at the central jetty. There is no clearly identified helipad, though the lawn in front of the main house can be used as a makeshift helipad if needs must. CIS have not identified any helicopter activity in the period they’ve monitored the objective.

“Our assessment is that in the event of an attack, the target will most likely attempt to escape by sea. The road can be easily blocked, and we assess that the strong land defences are to delay any attacking force for long enough for the target to escape by sea. Therefore, the first thing we need to do when we strike is to eliminate that method of escape. And that, in turn, means that some of you get to go swimming.”

A collective groan could be heard from the men of 2nd Platoon, the designated Sea Platoon. They were soldiers, not navy frogmen, and preferred to jump out of perfectly good aeroplanes like 3rd Platoon, the designated Air Platoon. It was much more fun and easier than scuba-diving in full kit against the current for up to three kilometers.

“Now now, is that complaining I hear? Bjørn?”

“Not at all sir,” Staff Sergeant Bjørn Johansen said with a smirk. “Just excitement, is all.”

“Good. The plan is roughly as follows: A team from Second Platoon will scuba-insert from the sea into the harbor and limpet the yacht and secure all boats on the location, thus denying the enemy his escape method and ensuring our own escape. At the same time, First Platoon and the balance of Second Platoon will insert from the sea along the southern seawall and from there take up their positions. Third Platoon will insert into the grounds from the sea to the north, here, and prepare to destroy the front gate at H-hour.

“The limpets will go off at H-hour, kicking off the whole affair. At that time, First Platoon will take out the power supply to the complex, killing the lights and adding to the confusion, while Third Platoon takes out the main gate and guard house. When completed, Third Platoon will leave a detachment to take up blocking positions to stop any would-be relief while the rest of the platoon move up and begin clearing the buildings.

“First Platoon, you have the most important job: By H-hour, you need to be at the main building so you’re in position to breach and clear the building the moment the lights go out, hopefully blocking Termjakov from getting to the bunker complex.

“Second Platoon, you will keep any reinforcements from getting to the main building from the south and breach the bunker complex, stopping any escape that way.

“Third Platoon, you will demo the garage and arrest any movement out from the guard barracks.

“When the show kicks off, there will be confusion and all hell will break loose. You need to move fast and determinately and find Termjakov before he can escape. If we can avoid a fight in the bunker, we should.

“When you have Termjakov, declare JACKPOT on comms. That will be the que for all elements to move as quickly as possible to the extraction back to their boats, where you will extract by sea down to landing zone TERRIBLE, south of Zoavrazhnyy Karatay, where NINJA will wait for you. Load up in the helicopters, fly back to friendly territory, and hand the jackpot over to the waiting law enforcement. When Termjakov is in Rikspolitiets custody, the mission is accomplished. Questions?”

Several questions of a more practicable manner were asked by the operatives and answered, some tweaks to the plan were suggested and implemented, and everything carefully reviewed. By six o’clock, every man knew in detail what was expected of him, and the men were left to review the sand tables and all available reconnaissance material for their teams’ individual planning. After this was done, around midnight, the men started checking their equipment and making sure everything was in order before finally racking in at four o’clock. After waking in the morning, they continued their preparations throughout the following day before they loaded up their equipment for the insertion into Tatarstan and their forward staging location south of Tenishevo, a mere six nautical miles from their objective.

Royal Palace
Oslo, Noreg len, Realm of Cotland
19:30 (Local/18:30 GMT), Wednesday, 26 August 2020

“Your Majesty, HSJK reports that they are in position and ready to execute operation MARDONIUS.”

The Chief of the Royal General Staff said formally over the secure video teleconference link. Field Marshall Fridtjof Olsnes was in the General Staff’s underground bunker complex somewhere north of Oslo, having been overseeing the first major joint exercise that the Cottish military executed after the end of the war when the operation in Tatarstan kicked off. His leaving the command post would have raised suspicion, meaning that the Field Marshall was forced to join the decision process by video teleconference instead of in person.

Looking over the briefing papers presented for the King and senior Government officials as part of the final decision brief, King Sverre looked over to the Foreign Minister.

“When will we inform the Tatarstanis of this operation?”

“Your Majesty, our ambassador in Kazan will request an emergency meeting with Premier Minnikhanov when the operation starts. By the time the helicopters breach Tatarstani airspace, Minnikhanov will be meeting the ambassador and be formally informed of the operation. The Tatarstanis will pick up the helicopters on their radars anyway, but they’ll be in and out before the Tatarstanis will be able to react. Initially, Minnikhanov will make a show of having ruffled feathers and formally protest the invasion of their territory, but ultimately he’ll settle down and allow the operation, which will be completed by that time. We’ll probably have to make some concessions to the Tatarstanis down the line in exchange for their silence and acceptance, but this is an acceptable price to pay.” Foreign Minister Ine Sørheim said confidently.

“Very good. Does anyone have any final objections or concerns that have yet to be addressed?”

No one spoke.

“Very well,” King Sverre said before closing his eyes and breathing deeply. After exhaling loudly, the King opened his eyes again and sat his piercing blue eyes on the Defence Minister.

“Defence Minister, Field Marshall. Pass the word to HJSK: Execute Operation MARDONIUS.”

With that order, the wheels were irrevocably in motion as highly encrypted orders were quickly passed down the chain of command to the seventy-two operators lying up in concealed positions near the coastline with their boats, reaching them less than half an hour after the words passed over the King’s lips. H-hour lay a mere six hours away, kicking off at 03:30 on Thursday, the 27th of August 2020.

[Cotland]

Lying-Up Point ALPHA (55°15’49N, 49°12’07E)
NORTH of Tenishevo, Republic of Tatarstan
02:00 (Local/23:00 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020

90 minutes prior to H-hour, the first set of boats set off from the lying-up point where the Cottish special forces had staged. With eight to ten persons per RHIB, equipped with electric outboard motors that made no noise, the first leg of the infiltration went without a problem down the river and into Lake Uljanovsk, over to the small oblong island to the east of Termjakov’s complex, where a six-man patrol from Third Platoon had manned Lying-Up Point BRAVO since last night, keeping constant vigil and eyes-on on the objective and getting a feel for the pattern of life at the objective.

The team at LUP BRAVO had established the pattern of life of the guard force, counting fifty-four security personell armed with rifles and tactical gear who seemed to know what they were doing, along with a small dog kennel with four Malinois working dogs that could become a problem later on. However, more importantly, they had managed to get eyes on the target himself and positively identified him as Ruslan Termjakov. Images were flashed via satellite back to the TOC, and from there to Cotland proper. They had even managed to identify which room Termjakov most likely was located in, based on the clear line of sight they had to the bedroom where Termjakov personally had closed the curtains two hours ago before the lights were turned off.


Objective GOLD (55°17’47N, 49°23’29E)
02:51 (Local/23:51 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020

An hour after setting off from LUP ALPHA, the strike force had assembled in their respective staging areas and made the final preparations for insertion. Meanwhile, the operation was already underway, as a four-man patrol from Second Platoon led by Staff Sergeant Bjørn Johansen made the 500 meter swim from just south of LUP BRAVO into the private harbour. The enemy clearly didn’t expect anyone to be crazy enough to attack from the sea judging by the lack of nets or other barriers covering the seafront.

’Their mistake,’ Bjørn thought as he checked his compass once more. By the compass course and dead reconning, he estimated that he and the rest of the patrol was in the middle of the harbor by now, but there was only one way of being sure. He had to risk a quick look. Carefully and slowly, he rose from the diving depth of six meters up to just beneath the surface, and slowly allowed his head to broach the surface just enough to get his eyes above the surface. It was pitch black out, the operator was wearing a dark green waterproof attack diver’s suit and neoprene hood, and the lights illuminating the complex meant that anyone looking out to the sea would not have night vision worth a damn, thus minimizing the risk of exposure.

Bjørn found that he was in fact right where he was supposed to be, and that the yacht was still moored at the central pier, a mere hundred meters away. Satisfied, he returned to six meters depth and gave the signal to the rest of the divers, all of them tethered to each other by a long paracord line for navigation and safety purposes. The divers would follow the leader.

It didn’t take many minutes for the divers to reach their target, and even less time to do the dirty deed of planting the limpet demolition charges and activating the timer, giving them forty minutes to get away from the area. Four half-kilo limpets were definitely overkill for the 85-foot luxury yacht, but as the explosives NCO had said when confronted with this during planning: “There is no better kill than overkill!”

With the dirty deed complete, the diver team went south down to the covered boathouse where intel indicated that a small fleet of RHIBs were located. Sure enough, ten high-performance RHIBs were neatly moored in the boathouse. Planting a remote-detonated charge on each RHIB didn’t take very long, and within minutes, the attack divers were on their way back into the river and on to their own start point. The idea behind remote detonators instead of simpler timed charges was as a backup. If anything were to happen to their own boats, the enemy RHIBs could be commandeered and used for a getaway. If they weren’t needed, they’d be demo’d as the strike force exfiltrated.

As the RHIBs in the boathouse were being fitted with explosive charges, the strike force started their own infiltration. Two groups of boats quietly closed on the perimeter of the objective and were tied up under the seawall that covered the complex. Under the careful cover of special forces operators covering all sides with suppressed carbines, two large holes were cut in the fence that served as the barrier to the outside world and allowed the fifty Cottish special forces operatives entry. Once in, they fanned out and quickly and quietly moved along the shadows and using cover to make their way to their respective positions. A two-man sniper-spotter team were left with the boats to safeguard their exit and cover the rest with precision sniper fires from the south. Across the bay at LUP BRAVO, another sniper team was covering the eastern side of the area.

It almost went bad from the start. A patrol from First Platoon tasked with taking out the generator building stumbled onto a pair of sentries who were roaming the grounds. Surprised, the sentries hesitated as their brains processed the sight of six heavily armed and outkitted green men and how to react to this. That was the last thing they ever did, as the Cottish special forces operatives did not hesitate and quickly and quietly eliminated the two sentries with headshots from their suppressed pistols. Fitted with subsonic ammunition for maximum stealth, the loudest noise from the encounter was the metallic noise of the pistols’ action and the sound of the dead bodies dropping to the ground. After quickly hiding the still warm corpses, the patrol continued on toward their objective. Ten minutes later, they were in position and ready to kill the power when the limpets went off.

To the north, the twenty men of Third Platoon had managed to infiltrate the compound and taken up positions to cover the guard barracks and the gate. Everything was quiet, and from the look of things through the windows in the guard shack by the gate, the two guards on watch were passing the time by playing cards while five Malinois dogs were snoozing in the kennel behind the guard shack. The plan was as devastating as it was simple: at go-time, the guard shack would go up in smoke and flames by way of an M72A9 Anti-Structure Missile (ASM). Likewise, the guard barracks would eat half a dozen ASMs, and two machine guns would cover the guard barracks and devastate anyone that survived the rocketry and tried to get out. Meanwhile, a four-man patrol from Third Platoon would make their way to the nearby garage and destroy all vehicles and secure the garage entry to the bunker complex, just in case there were anyone down there that might try to intervene.

As the clock passed 03:28, the bulk of First Platoon and elements of Second Platoon had stacked up near the main building and prepared to breach. Night-vision devices were checked and double-checked, weapons were checked and ensured that the magazines were filled and silencers were fitted properly, and everyone quietly and individually prepared themselves mentally for the storming of the building.

Two minutes to go.


Royal Cottish Embassy
16 Dzershinsky Street, Kazan, Republic of Tatarstan
03:28 (Local/00:28 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020

Ambassador Tristan Mathiasen paced the floor of his office on the third floor of the Cottish embassy in Kazan. Located along the southern edge of the Chornoye Ozero Park in downtown Kazan, the embassy had been the focal point of Cottish diplomacy in the Tatarstani Republic since its independence in the 1970s. Normally, the fifty-two year old Ambassador would be sound asleep in his residence up at the river front at this time, but in the morning the embassy had received a heavily encoded telegram instructing the ambassador to be ready for an important communiqué to be issued some time during the night. Thus, Ambassador Mathiasen had chosen to eschew sleep in favor of an ever increasing quantity of coffee. He was joined in his vigil by Ylva Axelsson, the forty-six year old Charge d’Affairs. Apart from the two top diplomats and the normal security and service staff that manned the embassy around the clock, the coding room had two persons manning it throughout the night in anticipation of the communiqué so it could be decrypted quickly.

The Ambassador’s pacing was interrupted by the shrill sound of the telephone ringing. It had barely managed to complete its third ring before Ambassador Mathiasen answered.

“Yes.”

”Mister Ambassador, the communiqué from Oslo has arrived. We’re decoding it now.”

“Thank you. Please bring it up to my office as soon as its decoded.” The Ambassador said before hanging up. Looking over to Ylva who had been dozing in the Chesterfield sofa, he smirked.

“It’ll be in our hands in a moment. It had better be something important, given all the hush-hush.”

“Beats me,” Ylva said as she stifled a yawn. “The Foreign Ministry refused to reveal anything, even on the secure phone. That’s very unusual.”

A knock on the mahogany door interrupted the conversation. This turned out to be a very tired-looking communications officer holding a deep red manilla folder, which was handed to the ambassador without a word. After thanking the communications officer and shutting the door, Mathiasen opened the folder, pulled out the three pages and started reading. As he got further down the first page, he became visibly paler and started sweating.

“We’re technically invading Tatarstan as we speak,” He said. “We’ve sent in special forces to capture Ruslan Termjakov, who is hiding in Tatarstan. The operation is ongoing now, and we are to inform Premier Minnikhanov directly without delay and make sure that the Tatarstanis don’t intervene. At the same time, we are to present a diplomatic note protesting Tatarstan harboring enemies of the Realm.”

“Holy crap!” Ylva said, wide awake now. “Minnikhanov is going to explode!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Ylva, please call the Kremlin and request an urgent and immediate meeting with Premier Minnikhanov. I need to grab a shower and change my clothes.”


Objective GOLD (55°17’47N, 49°23’29E)
03:30 (Local/00:30 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020

The muffled boom in the harbor and cascades of water that engulfed the yacht moored there was the start of a number of carefully timed, simultaneous actions.

Almost immediately, the lights disappeared as the power was turned off, throwing the hitherto brightly illuminated complex into darkness.

The barking of the guard dogs alerted by the booms was violently surpassed by the explosion of a 66MM anti-structure missile slamming into the guard shack where the two guards had started to rise from their seats to check out the noise. The splinters from the wooden structure mortally wounded all the unfortunate dogs.

Likewise, the two-floor guard barracks was battered by six 66MM anti-structure missiles that easily punched through the wooden walls and devastated the interior where the bulk of the guard force slept. Fires quickly erupted, triggered by the explosions, and the survivors inside who tried to escape on all sides were violently cut down by two machine guns that opened up. Even after killing the survivors, the machine guns kept on a steady stream of bullets into the smoldering structure.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

At the main three-floor house, the explosion in the harbor was the signal for the thirty Cottish special forces operatives to move up to the house and stack up. Five seconds later, when the lights went out, the operators activated their night-vision devices, allowing them to see in the dark, and breached the main building at three different locations. The men had already roughly divided up the house into zones of responsibility, with the main priority being to take control of the staircases and entrances to prevent any escape, and for a snatch team to make their way to the master bedroom as quickly as humanly possible to get Termjakov before he could abscond.

Thusly tasked, the men moved in and quickly spread out to sweep and clear the building. Once they were in, eight men quickly moved up the main staircase and made a beeline for the master bedroom as identified by the team at LUP BRAVO.

Indications that they were on the money came when they saw two armed and confused men outside the double doors that had to lead into the main bedroom. Without hesitation, the two Cottish operators in the lead opened up with their silenced carbines and expertly placed two bullets in the chests of each man, followed up by a third round to the head just to be sure. It was called Mozambique Drill in the Cottish military, and was adhered to religiously by the special forces as it was a guaranteed way of removing ugly surprises like the target wearing body armour and waking up to shoot you in the back. It took the Cots less than two seconds to remove this immediate threat slash obstacle, and three seconds later, the eight men were stacked up on the double doors. One man opened the door just enough for another to toss in a cylindrical object, then shut the door quickly again and waited.

A powerful boom and a flash of light underneath the door sill was the que for the man to yank open the door again and allow his comrades to rush in.

Moving quickly and with a purpose, this was where countless hours of training and repetition paid off for the Cottish operators. Moving like one organism, the men spread out and covered every corner and wall of the room and scanned for threats. What they found was an elderly couple lying in the fetal position on the floor by a king-size bed, covering their ears and eyes as they screamed.

Covering them with weapons, ready to shoot if they made a wrong move, two operators grabbed the elderly man and flipped him over as they shone a bright light in his face, further blinding him as the effects of the flashbang started to wear off. Grabbing the man by the jaw and forcing the man to look at him, one of the operators compared the blinded, frightened man to a picture.

Grinning, he turned to his comrades.

“Jackpot! It’s him!”

Without further ceremony, the Cots forced the man’s hands behind his back and secured them there with zipties, before hooding him and manhandling him to his feet. Behind them, the woman was starting to regain control of her senses, and as her eyes started getting used to the darkness after the visual rape that the flashbang had provided, she found herself restrained, lying on her belly and staring at three heavily armed alien-looking creatures.

True to form, she did what any elderly lady would do in a similar situation.

She screamed bloody murder.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the bunker complex, Second Platoon had made entry immediately upon the explosion and started to clear the structure as they searched for Termjakov. The complex was deserted, save for a wandering soul that was trying to investigate what the noise on the outside was. For his troubles, he earned half a dozen 6.8MM bullets as the Cottish operators cut him down. Therefore, the patrols in the bunker had actually reached the ‘panic room’ in the bunker, secured it and the adjacent communications room and started SSE when they heard activity on their comms.

”Flash - flash - flash! 9-8, 9-8 this is JAGUAR ONE-ONE. JACKPOT, I say again, JACKPOT!”

The radio call was immediately responded to by the strike force commander, Major Nyyssönen, who was leading a patrol of his own clearing the ground floor of the main house. ”JAGUAR ONE-ONE, this is JAGUAR NINER. Roger JACKPOT. Good job! Break break. All callsigns, this is JAGUAR NINER. We have JACKPOT, I say again, we have JACKPOT. Proceed to exfil immediately. Acknowledge, over.”

In the bunker, Lieutenant Ola Skogsrud looked at his Platoon Sergeant. “Finn, how long do you need for SSE?”

“There’s a lot of computers and papers boss. Ideally twenty minutes to do it properly.” Master Sergeant Finn Ömarsson replied to his Platoon Leader, knowing that there wasn’t a snowballs’ chance in hell that they’d get 20 minutes.

“You’ve got five minutes, then we’re gone. Get to work!” Skogsrud said before keying his own comms. “JAGUAR NINER, this is JAGUAR TWO-NINER. We’ve cleared the bunker, but we need ten minutes for Sierra Sierra Echo. Over.”

TWO NINER, NINER, roger. Five minutes, and not a second longer. Out.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Clear!” The operator said loudly, giving the que for the tightly packed group of people to emerge from the bedroom and into the second-floor hallway. Moving as quickly as they could with the package, as Ruslan Termjakov was now referred to as, two operators were dragging the resisting old man between them as two men covered the front. Another two men covered the rear, making sure no one ambushed them on the way. The final two men of the snatch team followed and bounded past the group to take up covering positions further ahead, having gagged and tied up Mrs Termjakov, placed her back in the king-size bed and placed a blanket over her so she wouldn’t get cold before leaving.

It didn’t take many minutes for the package team to make it out from the main house and meet up with more Cottish special forces operators. They formed another circle of armed warriors around the package and ensured their movement from the main house down to the boats, six hundred meters away. As they were leaving the main house, another loud boom rocked the compound as the garage went up in smoke, courtesy of Third Platoon.

Resistance had been relatively light thus far. Almost all the guards had been caught asleep and thus killed off when the barracks went up in smoke and flames, and the last remaining pair of sentries that had been out and about had met an untimely end in the form of .338 Lapua Match rounds fired from one of the sniper teams providing overwatch. Thus, not much resistance could be found when moving the high-value package through the complex. As they passed through the domestic staff’s quarters, a door opened as a person with a flashlight looked out and shone light on the group of darkly clad men in full tactical gear brandishing weapons, prompting an abruptive scream before the flashlight fell to the ground and illuminated a patch of grass as the man was riddled by bullets for his offense.

No one else dared venture outside.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The steady rattle of machine gun fire suddenly ceased as the men of Third Platoon withdrew back to their boats, leaving nothing but spent shell casings. Investigations would reveal that while they were of the 6.8MM x 43 caliber that the Cottish preferred to use, this caliber was in widespread service around the world and did not constitute a smoking gun per se. No other evidence were left behind by the Cots. Even the expended rocket launchers were brought back, as they bore serial numbers that could identify the users. The only thing left behind apart from the shell casings were burning and destroyed buildings and equipment, and a lot of dead bodies.

Further south, the men of Second Platoon also finally emerged from the bunker, laden down by haversacks filled with hard drives, USB memory sticks and papers. Jogging down to the rendezvous-point, Lieutenant Skogsrud found Major Nyyssönen waiting for him.

“Glad you could join us Ola,” He said with a shit-eating grin. “I was about to leave you and your lads behind.”

“Well you know me sir,” Skogsrud replied without skipping a beat. “Always fashionably late.”

“Indeed. Good catch?”

“Four sacks of SSE. You?”

“One very pissed off Permian President,” Nyyssönen laughed as a whail of sirens and flashes of blue lights could be seen rolling down the access road towards the burning front gate. “Get your lads in the boats so we can get the hell out of here. I have a feeling we’re about to outstay our welcome.”

Less than a minute later, Major Nyyssönen had received confirmation from all platoons that they had everyone present and accounted for, and triple-checked that that the headcount was correct. Satisfied, he looked around and found that he was the last man on land and hopped down into the last boat and motioned for it to push off and join the small convoy of silent RHIBs that were pushing away and down river.

As the last boat carrying ten operators started down the river towards the extraction point, Staff Sergeant Bjørn Johansen depressed the trigger on the detonator.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the first police patrol cautiously stepped towards the burning gate at the compound, their Makarov pistols in their hands and shocked eyes taking in the unbelievable carnage before them, a series of explosions could be heard from the south, prompting the police officers to run back to their Lada police cruiser and back away from the gate while frantically calling for backup to the warzone they found themselves in.

In reality, it was the ten RHIBs in the boathouse that ceased to exist as the Cottish withdrew quietly from the scene. The time was 03:51 local time. 01:51 Cottish Standard Time. 00:51 Greenwitch Mean Time. It had taken the Cottish Special Forces only twenty-one minutes to successful carry out a mission in essentially enemy territory, and exfiltrate with their main target.

Now, all they had to was get back to friendly territory.

[Cotland]

South of Zaovrazhnyy Karatay, Republic of Tatarstan (55° 9'50N-049°14’42E)
04:11 (Local/01:11 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020

Twenty minutes after starting their getaway, the strike force’s boats reached the destined landing zone south of the sleepy town of Kamskoye Ustye. Eleven nautical miles away from the objective that was being approached by heavily armed police forces moving carefully towards the villa complex, everything was quiet as the locals slept. Satisfied that they weren’t walking into a trap, Major Nyyssönen gave the signal.

Quickly and methodically, the Cottish special forces disembarked their boats at the beach and gathered up while a pre-selected team rallied up the boats, dragged them out to deeper water and scuttled them. Weighed down, the RHIBs and their motors had been “sanitizised” before the mission started by removing all identifying features and serial numbers, and weighed down with lead inserts to ensure their sinking.

The scuttling of the eight boats was done quickly and quietly, leaving the team to swim the hundred meters back ashore and rejoin their comrades as they waited for exfil.


Kremlin, Kazan, Republic of Tatarstan
04:15 (Local/01:15 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020

It hadn’t been easy, but Ylva had managed to convince the Tatarstanis that the Premier needed to meet with the Cottish ambassador immediately. So, forty-six minutes later, Ambassador Tristian Mathiasen was welcomed into the opulent office by a groggy Premier Sergej Minnikhanov. Freshly shaved and showered and dressed immaculately in a three-piece suit, Ambassador Mathiasen didn’t give the impression that he had been awake for the better part of a day, unlike the sleepy Premier.

“Mister Ambassador, what is important enough to get us both up from bed at this ungodly hour?!” Minnikhanov demanded as he offered the ambassador a seat.

“Mister Premier, I am sorry for the hour, but I have been instructed by His Majesty’s Government that this cannot wait until morning.” Mathiasen said, shifting his weight in the comfortable chair as he prepared to break the news.

“As you are well aware sir, the erstwhile leader of the Republic of Perm, Ruslan Termjakov, is wanted by His Majesty’s Government for his involvement in the brutal murder of over thirteen hundred men, women and children prior to outbreak of war.”

“A vile man,” Minnikhanov spat.

“Indeed sir. It has recently come to the attention of His Majesty’s Government that Termjakov is in fact located within your country. He isn’t even laying low, but holding court out in the open in a villa complex not seventy kilometers from us. Is this the willed policy of the Republic of Tatarstan? To openly harbour and host enemies of the Realm?”

“Certainly not!” Minnikhanov replied, the sleep evaporated from his face now as he started to sense the seriousness of the Cottish message. “Though I must add that Termjakov has not committed any crimes against the people of Tatarstan that I know of, I’ll have our security forces bring him into custody first thing in the morning as a show of friendship towards the Realm.”

“That will not be necessary sir,” Ambassador Mathisen replied. “I have been instructed by His Majesty’s Government to inform you that Cottish military forces are in the process of carrying out an operation to bring Termjakov into custody, and to request that the Tatarstani Republic demonstrate their friendship to the Realm by not opposing this operation.”

“You what?!” The Premier cried out as he bolted to his feet. “You are proposing violating our sovereign territory! That is unacceptable!”

“It is unfortunate, sir, but very necessary. We cannot allow Termjakov to remain free. He must atone for his crimes against the Realm. Therefore you have a choice now sir.” Mathisen said, pulling out an envelope. “You can oppose us. We go in anyway, crush whatever opposition you mount, and sour relations between the Realm and the Republic. Harsh words will be spoken. Trade will suffer. In general, an unfortunate and avoidable situation that will hurt both countries.

“Or, you quietly accept our incursion into Tatarstan. We bring Termjakov into custody, allegedly with the support of and in cooperation with the Republic of Tatarstan. In turn, the Realm will be assured of Tatarstan’s friendship, and not oppose the proposed removal of tariffs during the trade negotiations scheduled next month.

“I have with me here a diplomatic note condemning the Tatarstani Republic, with instructions to hand it over if you should choose the former. I would prefer not to have to present it to you sir.”

What followed was an epic rant from the Premier on the arrogance of the Cottish, which Mathisen took without flinching. When the Premier ran out of steam, he collapsed back into his chair and looked the Ambassador in the eyes. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally nodded.

“You have left me with little choice, mister Ambassador. I’ll allow your incursion, as the consequences if I refuse are too dire to accept. But I won’t forget this insult for as long as I shall live!”

Ambassador Mathisen rose from his seat. “Understandable sir. I regret that it had to come to this, but for what it’s worth, I thank you for your decision.”

“Get out before I change my mind.” Minnikhanov barked, watching the Ambassador walk out before picking up a phone. He had to ground his Air Force and confine the Army to barracks for the night.


South of Zaovrazhnyy Karatay, Republic of Tatarstan (55° 9'50N-049°14’42E)
04:20 (Local/01:20 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020

”Jaguar Niner, this is Ninja One, over.”

“Ninja One, Jaguar Niner, over.” Major Nyyssönen replied immediately as the helicopters broke radio silence.

”Ninja One, inbound, ETA two mike. Interrogative, can you mark Lima Zulu, over?”

“Roger, we will mark with flashing strobes, over.” Nyyssönen replied, looking at the Sergeant Major Lassen. The grizzled old Sergeant Major was on his feet before Nyyssönen had finished the sentence, gathering a few men to mark the landing zone with flashing infrared strobes. Invisible unless you wore night vision goggles, the strobes would tell the helicopters where they needed to go on the large plain.

“Solid copy, out.”

Less than two minutes later, the tell-tale flapping of helicopters would be heard approaching from the west, though in the darkness they couldn’t tell where the helicopters were until they were virtually on top. Approaching as out of thin air, black-painted helicopters came in low and fast, pulling up and flaring to retard their forward motion at the last second.


The powerful rotors picked up a lot of dust, causing the special forces operators to take cover. Mere seconds later, the six helicopters – two AW-101 Merlins and four AW-169 Auroras – were on the ground, with crew chiefs covering the approaches to the LZ with the helicopters’ mounted machine guns while the operators boarded. To cover the exfiltration force, four flights of Viper multirole fighters were flying in a holding pattern on the Cottish side of the border, ready to cross the border and provide close air support and fighter cover if the Tatarstani military tried to interfere. The whole air operation was controlled by a Wedgetail AWACS aircraft.

Still squirming despite his restraints and blindfold, the restrained Permian ex-president was man-handled into one of the Merlins by four special forces operators and placed firmly on the cold metal deck of the helicopter while the men occupied the seats.

The patrol leaders ensured that all their men were accounted for and that no one got left behind, with Major Nyyssönen and Sergeant Major Lassen being the last boots on the ground as they waited for the operators on perimeter security to pull back to the helicopters. With the last man accounted for, the Major got a final headcount from his patrol and platoon leaders, then looked around one final time to make sure that they hadn’t forgotten anyone. Satisifed, he finally boarded one of the Auroras as the helicopters started lifting off. His last boot stepped off Tatarstani soil at 04:24 hours local time. It had taken the Cottish two minutes to load up the special forces and their bounty.

The fifty nautical mile flight back to the safety of the Cottish-controlled airspace was a rollercoaster of a ride, with the six helicopters belonging to the Royal Cottish Army Flying Corps’s 831 (Special Operationa Aviation) Squadron flying nap of the earth over a carefully plotted route that avoided all populated areas and military positions, literarily brushing treetops as the black helicopters flew below the Tatarstani radar coverage. Unlike most other call sign allocations in Cottish military aviation, the allocation of the callsign NINJA to the birds of 831 Squadron was not random. The pilots of 831 Squadron were hand-picked and trained religiously, giving them the skillset needed to pull out this sort of high-risk manouvers like airborne ninjas.

Twenty minutes later, at 04:44 hours local time, Ninja flight crossed the border, ending the Cottish incursion into Tatarstan. Easing a bit on the tactical flying, the helicopters flew another ten nautical miles into Cottish-controlled territory before they increased altitude to a more relaxing five hundred feet AGL as they altered course and flew towards their destination of Tsjeboksary Airport, on the outskirts of the city of Tsjeboksary.


Tsjeboksary Airport, Tsjeboksary, Chuvasia province, Cottish-occupied Niezgorodskaja
05:00 (Local/02:00 GMT), Thursday, 27 August 2020


At 05:00 local time sharp, the helicopters touched down at Tsjeboksary’s tarmac and shut down the engines. Waiting on the tarmac was a Cottish-marked military transport aircraft, the ubiquous T130 Hercules tactical transport aircraft that had served the Cottish military faithfully for decades. Standing outside the aircraft was a small delegation of people dressed in practical civilian clothing.

Stepping off the Aurora helicopter, Major Nyyssönen went over to the small crowd of operators standing near the nearest Merlin. Making his way into the middle of the crowd, he found that the men were looking at the blindfolded, nearly naked elderly man that was being manhandled off the helicopter and lying on the ground, with a medic giving him a quick check-up.

“How’s the package doc?” The Major asked as he removed his helmet.

“Agitated, slightly dehydrated, and with a few new scuffmarks here and there, but overall, he’ll live.”

“Good enough,” The Major scoffed, before looking at the nearest men. “Bring him!”

As the men grabbed the blindfolded prisoner, the Major turned and walked over to the Hercules and the men standing by the aircraft. Ensuring his carbine was on safe and out of the way, the Major approached the person who seemed to be the leader of the group.

“Major Nyyssönen, HSJK.”

“Major, good to meet you.” The meticulously groomed bearded bespectacled man in his early fifties said. “Chief Inspector Jarle Reeder, Rikspolitiet. I understand you have something for me?”

“Yes sir,” Nyyssönen said as he turned and presented the prisoner, who had been forced to kneel before the police officer. As the soldiers removed the blindfold, the rest of Reeder’s group gathered around to see.

Blinking furiously, Termjakov tried to regain his bearings as the darkness of the blindfold was violently replaced by the intense brightness of the early morning’s rays from the rising sun.

“Yep, that’s him. Mind if we take it from here Major?” Reeder asked, more out of courtesy than anything else.

“I’ve been instructed to hand him over to you sir, so please be my guest.” Major Nyyssönen said. “I’ll need a receipt for him though.”

“I think we can arrange that,” Reeder said, looking over to one of his associates who started on the paperwork before returning his attention to the prisoner. Nodding to his team, the Rikspolitiet tactical team took custody of the prisoner from the special forces operators and replaced the zip-ties with metal handcuffs.

“Ruslan Termjakov,” Reeder said in accented English. Intelligence indicated that Termjakov knew English, and Reeder’s Russian was very rusty, so English it was. “You are under arrest on suspicion of high crimes against the Realm of Cotland. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

While Termjakov must have suspected who had taken him, he did not understand a lick of Cottish or whatever language these bandits had spoken. So, it wasn’t until Reeder read him his rights in English that the realization that he had been captured by the Cottish finally hit him. Stunned by the realization, Termjakov went into a catatonic state and didn’t say a word as he was pulled to his feet and escorted into the Hercules, which took off moments later to fly to Cotland proper. A few hours later, he’d find himself processed into the criminal justice system and in a holding cell in a Cottish prison like any common criminal.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

While the Hercules lifted off, the brief message “Operation MARDONIUS completed, mission accomplished” was being flashed across the proper channels. By noon, the Cottish government broke the news officially that Ruslan Termjakov had been apprehended and was now in Cottish custody. No details were offered surrounding the arrest, but in the coming weeks, rumors would abound that he was captured in a daring special forces raid. This was stonewalled by both the Cottish and Tatarstani governments.

Any news reports on the devastated villa complex in Tatarstan was suppressed by the Tatarstani government, upholding their side of the deal in return for a very generous trade deal with the Cottish that removed all tariffs on Tatarstani goods imported into Cotland, boosting Tatarstani industry and providing cheaper goods for the Cottish consumers.

[Cotland]

Petersborg Fortress
Petersborg, Ingermannland len, Realm of Cotland
10:00 (Local/08:00 GMT, Tueday, 01 September, 2020

The red brick walls, vaulted ceiling and barred window helped reinforce the ancient dungeon vibe for anyone who stepped into the interrogation cell in the prison section of the star fortress that had guarded Petersborg and housed prisoners of the Crown since it was built over three hundred years ago. Over the centuries, many famous prisoners had been imprisoned in these cells. Examples included the poet Daniel Janusov, who died in one of these cells from pneumonia in the mid-1700s after an unfortunate and immediately outlawed poem describing a sordid royal affair that enraged the Cottish King; hero of the proletariat Fredrik Haux, who led a failed revolution of the working class in the late 1800s and languished for almost a decade in a cold, damp cell before he was finally hanged in the courtyard; and now the former leaders of the defunct Confederacy of the Urals.

After his kidnapping and subsequent arrest, Ruslan Termjakov had been brought to a detention center in Vologda where he had been given a medical examination and had his mild injuries treated before being formally brought before a magistrate and ordered to be incarcerated “at His Majesty’s pleasure pending trial” due to his formal status as a declared enemy of the Realm. This allowed Rikspolitiet to transfer him to the maximum-security detention center at the fortress at Petersborg.

Now, four days after the formal arraignment and after sitting isolated in his prison cell for three days, Termjakov was brought by two no-nonsense jailers into the interrogation cell where people had been tortured until that practice was outlawed a century ago. The untold horrors of past interrogations still sat within the walls though, making it uncomfortable for the prisoners to be brought into the cell. It just gave off that vibe, which the interrogators used to its fullest advantage.

Now, sitting before the two interrogators were prisoner X20-003982 Termjakov, his defence attorney who was present to ensure that his rights were observed, and an interpreter.

“This is the initial interrogation of Ruslan Termjakov, born fifteen August nineteen fifty-eight, who has been formally charged with waging illegal war upon the Realm, terroristic attack, conspiracy to commit murder, and conspiracy to overthrow the legally elected government of the Realm. The accused is present in the interrogation room, has been read his rights as directed by law, and is aided by legal counsel. Prisoner, please state your name for the record.” The interrogator started, speaking Russian for the benefit of the prisoner. Interrogations in Cottish would take place soon enough.

“Termjakov, Ruslan Konstantinovich,” the sixty-two year old prisoner said with a timid voice. The prisoner sitting before the interrogator didn’t at all resemble the man the Cottish knew from before the war. Termjakov had portrayed himself as the strong man of Perm and the epitome of Permian manhood, without any fear or weakness. That certainly was not the case of the man sitting before the interrogator, resembling more a frightened broken old man that looked closer to eighty years in age than sixty.

“Date of birth?”

“Fifteen August 1958.”

“Place of birth?”

“Perm.”

“Perm City?”

“Yes.”

“You were until recently the President of the Republic of Perm, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about Operation Crusade.”

The prisoner went sheet white as the shock of the revelation that the Cottish had found out the deepest state secret of Perm. The attorney had to get that translated, then looked over at his client as the interrogator pressed on.

“You didn’t think we knew about that? We know that the Confederacy was only days away from launching an all-out invasion of Cotland, and that you approved it. We know that you personally signed the orders sending the 27th Spetznaz Regiment into Cotland on a spree of terrorism. That in itself is more than enough to send you directly to the gallows. If you want to have a snowball’s chance in hell of avoiding the gallows, you need to tell us everything you know.”

“Don’t answer that!” The attorney objected, “I need to speak with my client before we can answer any more questions.”

Nordhavn Naval Station
Nordhavn, Bjarmeland len, Realm of Cotland
12:00 (Local/10:00 GMT, Tuesday, 01 September, 2020

Aboard ex-Leonard Hajn, Oleg Khorsjev was still isolated from the surrounding world in his cell. No word of the successful arrest had been spoken aboard the prison ship, as the seventeen prisoners currently held here for interrogation were kept in complete isolation. Some had been kept isolated for months aboard here now and were starting to show signs of mental damage from the isolation, while others were coping better. One of those coping best was Khorsjev, who clinged to the thought that he was being freed soon.

In the old operations room, which served as the strategy and break room for the interrogators, the head interrogator had just finished a lengthy telephone conversation on the secure telephone unit. Despite his protests, it didn’t seem to the other interrogators that he’d had any success in persuading the other side to change their minds.

“What did they say?”

Sighing, the head interrogator looked at the interrogator responsible for the prisoner Khorsjev.

“They’re not going to honour the deal, obviously. There’s no way they’re going to let him free – he’s too big a liability should he chose to reneg on the deal. They said, and I quote directly, ‘it’s such a shame he had that heart attack so soon before his release.’”

“That’s how they want to play it?”

“Yes,” The head interrogator said. He didn’t like this at all. “You know what we need to do. Are you up for it?”

“I’m not comfortable with killing a prisoner without sentence.”

“I know. That’s not what I asked. Remember that he’s not a citizen with rights, he’s an enemy combatant. So, I ask you again: Are you up for it? If not, I can have someone else do it.”

“No, I’ll do it. My prisoner, my responsibility.” The interrogator sighed. “May the Gods forgive me.”

“They will.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Six hours later, Oleg Khorsjev finally left ex-Leonard Hajn, being carried off the ship in a body bag after having eaten a poisoned meal. The mandatory autopsy carried out by the Gandviken County Coroner would conclude that Khorsjev had suffered a massive heart attack and that there was no foul play involved in the death. His body would subsequently be cremated and returned to his family in Perm for burial, eliminating any remaining evidence of his untimely demise.


Cottish-occupied Perm
Monday, 12 October, 2020

Four months into the occupation of former Confederacy, life had started to settle into a new normal. After a tumultuous summer and early fall with the takeover of the new Cottish-led administration, the Permian and Niezgorodskajan peoples were adjusting to the new normal. A minor insurrection had been decisively crushed by the Cottish occupation forces in September after the movement lost steam following Termjakov’s arrest. The Cottish occupation forces, mostly made up of Royal Gendarmerie field units supported by units of the Army, had taken advantage of the disarray within the insurgent forces and in a coordinated strike on 18 September had decapitated and all but destroyed the insurgency. Since then, things had quieted down.

In the schools, reopened in August, the new curriculum was starting to take hold with the younger generation, and for the adult population, a number of educational films hastily produced over the course of the spring and summer were shown most nights. The films explained in an easily understandable format how the Cottish nation functioned, the principles of democracy and the political system, rights and responsibilities of citizens, opportunities and limitations of the freedoms the Cottish citizens enjoyed, how the Cottish economy worked, and many other such areas that Cottish citizens learned constituted the Social Contract in Social Sciences classes in school that the population of the former Confederacy had to get a crash course in.

The population of the occupied territories were taking stock of the situation, and most decided that the Cottish occupation was quickly turning into a blessing in disguise. Granted, they were under foreign rule and didn’t have political freedom to decide their own fate right now, but for the common man and woman in the street, their situation now was far better than it had been six months ago. On 1 October, the occupants had increased the daily ration again to 4,500 calories per person, meaning that the people could actually eat their fill for the first time in ages, and there were talk of the rationing being lifted entirely next year. The grocery stores and shops had well-stocked goods again and were subject to price control, meaning that they had a real selection in what they wanted to buy for tolerable prices for once. The paycheck to the workers from the state-owned businesses (which was some 95% of the working populace) were being paid out on the 12th of every month as promised, and the pay had even increased to where the average people could afford to buy what they wanted.

The expected vast unemployment wave was mostly stemmed by proactive policies employing hundreds of thousands of people in the rebuilding and upgrade program the authorities had launched in August. Three major cities – Kirov, Izjevsk and Berezniki – lay in ruins after prolonged urban warfare and needed to be cleared and rebuilt, as did hundreds of other towns, villages and hamlets to varying degrees. The rebuilding effort promised steady work and decent pay, with extra bonuses for craftsmen and artisans that joined the Labor Corps. As a result, almost half a million Permians and Niezgorodskajans had joined up by 1 September, giving the rebuilding a boost. That the authorities endeavored to offer related contracts to local businesses further helped boost the local economy and eased the strain on the Cottish economy. This helped put food on the table for many people and eased the transition.

Another big change for the Permian people was that the Cottish had granted them the right to speak freely. This new-found freedom was slow to catch on, as the population had to overcome the ingrained fear of being arrested by the secret police for speaking their minds, but when it first was overcome, it was overcome to the fullest. Dozens of newspapers and news outlets emerged, spreading their respective narratives and ideas to whoever wanted to hear them. Of course, the more outspoken Permians found out that there were limits to this freedom, as hateful speech and encouraging violence and insurrection was stopped and silenced, but political criticism was surprisingly allowed.

This in turn had led to mixed responses when the Cottish Viceroy instructed the newly Permian interim council to implement Cottish-style legislation on religious institutions. For over a decade, the Orthodox Church had enjoyed a special privilege in being given generous transfers and concessions from the Permian State coffers in exchange for the priests and bishops spreading the erstwhile government’s message and encouraging the parishioners to do as told by the authorities from the pulpits. The Cottish, on the other hand, had instituted separation of religion and state more than two centuries ago. While staunch advocates of freedom of religion, the Cottish had separated State and religion centures ago. Consequently, the Cottish government had taken this separation to its logical conclusion and come to expect all religious organizations operating within Cottish territory to pay property and income tax to the Government like all other organizations and businesses operating within the Realm, and this was now mandated on the Orthodox Church. Despite protests and even a few demonstrations, the decree was passed, and the Orthodox Church told in no uncertain terms that they’d better start paying taxes come November, or else. Helping to sway public opinion was the fact that Permian investigative journalists “independently” uncovered and published evidence that the Orthodox Church had grown rich and fat on the government payouts, had vast properties and secretly owned many businesses, and that the Church, bishops, and priests had accepted bribes, going against the Church’s age-old public stance that it was poor and exclusively relying on the donations from the parishioners to get by. The Orthodox Church was left with an explanation problem, which was not helped by the authorities publicly opening corruption probes as a result of the “revelations.” Any funds that the probe might find to have been embezzled, the Crown Prosecutor’s Office explained, would be confiscated and returned to the Permian government coffers and go to the benefit of the Permian people.

Further revelations of the crimes of the former regime helped distance the population from the old regime, with news cameras being allowed into the old torture chambers of the KGB and now-vacated concentration camps where political prisoners had been held. Horrifying stories of survivors, hitherto scared into silence by the former regime, were finally being told, and torturers and concentration camp guards were being brought to justice.

The KGB weren’t the only ones being brought to justice. The Cottish occupants were cracking down on organized crime with a vengeance. Since the occupation, in Perm city alone, the Permian police with support from the Cottish Royal Gendarmerie had arrested or killed over six hundred persons with ties to the underworld, with the top gangsters currently stewing in small concrete boxes in a Cottish prison somewhere after attempting to bribe or coerce Cottish officials. Since Perm was still under martial law, swift and harsh sentences had been handed down by Cottish tribunals, including a few death sentences which had been carried out swiftly.

The message was clear: there’s a new boss in town, and he ain’t the same as the old boss.

[Layarteb]

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OOC: Intending to do some major catch up here. This is the second of three posts to catch up Layartebian involvement.

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Sunday, June 7^th, 2020 | 07:45 hrs [UTC+3]

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Syktyvkar, Cotland | Syktyvkar Air Force Station
61° 34' 53" N, 50° 31' 15" E

"Shrike 2 flight, you are cleared for formation takeoff, interval 1-0 seconds, depart heading 3-1-0, good luck," the tower operator at Syktyvkar said over the net. In doing so, he gave clearance for six F-28B Vipers of the ILAF to take off as a group with a minimum of ten seconds of spacing between each pair. The six Vipers were lined up on either side of the runway's centerline and only moments before watched a pair of Cottish fighters depart and climb out to the east. To keep the airspace clear, the ILAF Vipers would clear out to the west. This had been going on all morning at airfields like Syktyvkar and elsewhere in the region. The Cottish were launching a massive air assault operation into Perm designed to capture an air base from the Confederate Air Force in Perm. The six Vipers taking off had only a small part in the massive operation know as Operation Terminus, yet their job was crucial. Failure for them meant the troop transports couldn't drop their paratroopers.

In the briefing earlier that morning, the twelve airmen sat amongst dozens of Cottish pilots, RIOs, and WSOs as the preflight briefing was conducted. The first aircraft were wheels up at 07:00 and they would be hitting a tanker before entering Confederate airspace. The ILAF Vipers, on the other hand, would fly direct to the target, approaching in three waves. Their target was an active SA-11 battery just ten miles west of the air base and, more importantly, in the flight path of the troop transports. Neutralizing the site meant clearing the air corridor for the transports and seven SA-11 sites and numerous 23-millimeter and 57-millimeter antiaircraft guns would have to be neutralized before the transports could reach the drop zone.

To make matters worse, there was only a thirty-minute window with which the air crews had to neutralize the air defenses around Chirki Airfield. If they couldn't the air transports would have to be rerouted or called off entirely. Neither situation was desirous. If they were rerouted, they would have to take up an orbit position, over enemy territory, exposing them to ground fire. If they had to be sent back, it would give the Confederate Army time to reinforce the base, knowing what the objective was. A lot was at stake and Chirki was thus a "do or die" situation for the Cottish military.

Taking off together at 07:45, the six Vipers turned west to 310° and began their climb out to an altitude of 22,000 feet. Carrying three drop tanks a piece, they would have an additional 1,040 gallons of fuel, boosting their fuel load by 55% although, in reality, they were only adding 520 gallons of fuel since half of a drop tank's fuel was needed just to overcome the drag of said drop tank. In that regard, they were adding only 27.5% more fuel but 27.5% was better than zero. It was enough to get them to the target without the need to dip into their internal fuel. If they ran into trouble on the return, tankers were on standby and they would be able to hit them, especially since the ground trip to and from the target was 750 miles. Carrying ordnance and drop tanks, the Vipers would use up a considerable amount of fuel.

The lead two Vipers went under the callsigns Shrike 2-1 and Shrike 2-2. They were loaded with a pair of AGM-65G Mavericks and a pair of AGM-88G AARGM-ER missiles and their job was to neutralize the two radars supporting the site. If the radars were active, and the goal was to have them be active, the AGM-88s would do the trick and if not, the AGM-65s would be required. If they were able to utilize their AGM-88s, they would target the TELARs and put their Mavericks into them before they departed the area and RTB'd.

The remaining four Vipers went under callsigns Shrike 2-3 to Shrike 2-6 and their job was to neutralize everything the first two Vipers couldn't, which meant the TELARs if they needed to use their Mavericks and the supporting vehicles. Each of those Vipers were carrying four CBU-100 Rockeye II cluster bombs along with either six AGM-169 Brimstone or two GBU-12 Paveway II bombs. Two each would carry the Brimstones and the other two the Paveways. All six were carrying four AIM-120D AMRAAM and two AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles on their fuselage and wingtip pylons in addition to the HARM Targeting System Pod on the lead two Vipers and Sniper targeting pods on the remaining four Vipers.

After the climb out, the six Vipers leveled off and accelerated up to 400 knots and began the 50-minute trip to the target. For the ingress, the aircraft kept their radars off to avoid giving away their position, instead taking cues from AEW for hostile air contacts. They weren't meant to get into a dogfight though since that would require them dropping their payloads and their missiles and bombs were more valuable to this operation than were air-to-air kills and two of the six pilots already had two kills apiece in this war with one other having a solo kill on a Fulcrum from the first day of ground operations.

Just ten minutes before reaching the target, the lead two Vipers accelerated ahead, putting some distance between them and the trailing four. They did so because the Cottish had a decoy drone operating near the SAM site. The SA-11 was a mobile site and through ELINT, the Cottish knew approximately where the site was but not precisely where it was, especially not with the site under camouflage netting. So, the plan was to have a decoy drone armed with two small munitions loiter near the site, looking for it. The drone would then attack whatever it could see in hopes of activating the site and being shot down, not to be shot down but rather to allow the Vipers to target the radar with their AARGM-ER missiles.

Shrike 2-1 was being piloted by Lieutenant Colonel Charlie "Blade" Peters and his WSO for this mission was a newbie to the squadron, Second Lieutenant Hank "Willy" Williamson. As squadron leader, it was up to Peters to make sure that he worked with each newbie to the squadron to ensure he could gauge how they responded. So far so good but this was Williamson's first combat sortie. Until Peters cleared each newbie, they weren't flying with his men. He wanted to make sure they weren't going to freeze up or do something stupid and jeopardize his seasoned pilots.

Williamson had been waiting eleven days for a combat op since arriving in theater and now he finally got one. In the briefing, Peters had laid out the plan and gone through the movements. He'd practiced with Peters in the days earlier on how to be a WSO but only on the ground, not yet in the air. This was going to be the first test of the kid's capabilities and it was a doozy of a mission for his first run.

In the back seat, Williamson had cued up the HARM Targeting System or HTS, a 100-pound pod that hung on the chin of the Viper. The HTS allowed a HARM or AARGM-carrying aircraft to greatly increase not only their detection abilities but also better locate them and provide GPS targeting for the newer AARGM and AARGM-ER missiles. It wasn't necessary to carry but it made everything that much better with it. Scanning out to the edge of the horizon, the HTS was looking for the search and fire control radar emissions of the SA-11 site somewhere in the far-off distance of approximately 70 nautical miles away. Staring at it, he was more than a little excited when the symbology of an SA-11 appeared on the HTS. "Got it," he said into the intercom, "come ten degrees left."

Peters turned the aircraft slightly to the left and flipped his master switch to ARM. "Master ARM on."

"Selecting 88," Williamson answered as he selected the weapon and cued it to the threat. The search radar disappeared but not before the GPS lock had been acquired. Then the fire control radar came on and the decoy was destroyed, blasted out of the sky after dropping one of its bombs on a suspected trailer near the site. It wasn't a trailer but it got the battery's attention and now it was their undoing. "Handoff," Williamson said, passing the data to their wingman. "Fire when ready."

"Shrike 2-1, magnum!" Peters called out and with that, the AGM-88G AARGM-ER dropped off the rail and its booster motor ignited. The missile screamed forward and took a steep climb in front of the aircraft.

"Shrike 2-2, magnum!" Their wingman reported as a second missile streaked into the sky. Accelerating up to Mach 4, the two missiles leveled off at an altitude of 40,000 feet, zooming towards their target under their ramjet-powered engines. They weren't active missiles. Instead, they targeted via passive detection, meaning they homed in on radar emissions. If that failed, they had a GPS sensor that told them precisely where the target had been, thus enabling them to strike radars that weren't emitting, so long as they had the coordinates, which these missiles did. If that failed they had one last resort, a millimetric wave radar that could go active and target for them. It made the AARGM-ER one of the deadliest anti-radiation missiles out there. Coupled with a ramjet, the range of the missile was increased from eighty to one hundred and sixty nautical miles, giving it the ability to strike long-range SAM sites from further out, thus leading to more safety for the engaging aircraft.

The two missiles streaked out of view and the Vipers pressed on towards the site, the two radars now eerily silent but clearly out there and waiting. Two minutes later, the radars suddenly went active again, likely because one of the AARGM-ER missiles struck something at the site. Unbeknownst to the two Viper crews, the primary fire control radar had been taken out by Shrike 2-1's missile. The missile fired by Shrike 2-2 failed to target the search radar and instead targeted and destroyed an air defense vehicle protecting the site, using the radar image of the vehicle to determine it was a threat based on its internal computer memory.

The site went active again and this time the search radar began high-powered sweeps. Williamson quickly locked it up and Shrike 2-1 released its last AARGM-ER. The backup fire control radar, a STRAIGHT FLUSH radar, went active as well only it displayed as an SA-6 since that was the primary fire control radar of the SA-6. It could be used with the SA-11 and it was in this case. Shrike 2-2 launched its missile at the STRAIGHT FLUSH just as the two Vipers were acquired by the search radar. Tracking had begun and soon enough, SA-11s would start coming towards them. This was an ideal situation as it meant that the radars would remain active and thus allow the AARGMs to home in on them directly, which they did. Both radars blinked off the air not a minute and a half later.

Williamson cheered as he knew what it meant. Still, they had business to do and he flipped the system to the Maverick. On his main MFD, the Maverick's FLIR image came into picture though they were too far away to see the site on it. Still, he had a checklist to go through to get the Maverick ready and he went through it, slaving the Maverick to the general area where the HTS had picked up the site. The information sharing between the systems meant he wouldn't have to hunt for the site, wasting precious time. Of course, when they finally got close him for him to target it, the burning radars made targeting the site easy enough. "I've got us a target," Williamson said as he locked the Maverick's targeting box on what appeared to be a control vehicle.

"What is it?"

"Looks like the control vehicle."

"That's a good target, let's get it," Peters said, thus far pleased with the performance of his WSO. A minute later, well within range, he launched the Maverick and called out "Shrike 2-1, rifle," indicating that the Maverick was in the sky. With the missile gone, Williamson quickly switched to the second Maverick and looked for a heat signature, finding one and locking on it. It was one of the TELARs of the site and the second Maverick was launched not fifteen seconds later. Both missiles tracked true and blasted both the control vehicle and the TELAR to pieces. Even if the site had additional radars, without the control vehicle, it couldn't use them or fire the missiles. Calling out "Winchester" to say he was out of ordnance, Peters came off target. Shrike 2-2 managed to take out another TELAR and the backup search radar.

Coming off target, they set course for home, their job done. AEW was quiet and there weren't any fighters in the area to be a threat to them. It meant they would have an easy time home. They'd pass the other four Vipers, which moved in just behind Shrike 2-1 and 2-2. For them, it was mop up time and an easy target. Salvo launching their Brimstone missiles, there was barely anything left after the first pass. The second pair came in and dropped a Paveway II each on a pair of trucks before the first pair cycled back and released their Rockeye II bombs over the target area, saturating it with submunitions. When the second pair came back, there was little left to target and instead, they did the same, dropping their Rockeye IIs onto the target area saturating other parts of the now destroyed SA-11 site. They'd be the only aircraft returning to base from the six of them with air-to-ground ordnance in the form of two GBU-12 Paveway IIs between them.

Later that morning, Cottish paratroopers would descend on Chirki, facing no resistance from air defense in the area. By noon, the airfield would be under Cottish control and Perm would be within range.

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Tuesday, June 8^th, 2020 | 22:30 hrs [UTC+3]

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Berezniki, Cottish-controlled Perm | Berezniki Airfield
59° 34' 29" N, 56° 51' 19" E

It hadn't been long after the capture of Chirki that the 171st Tactical Fighter Squadron and their twenty-two F-28B Vipers repositioned down to Berezniki Airfield, just one hundred and fifty miles north of Chirki and the current front line. For the 171st TFS, the move came at a crucial time in the ground campaign, especially since their primary mission was air-to-ground. As the paratroopers at Chirki dug in for a counterattack, the aircraft at the 171st TFS were being prepared to support them by adopting a modified on-alert status by rotating four aircraft through on-alert status every twelve hours. Two of these would be loaded with anti-tank guided missiles and two with a mix of these and guided bombs. Depending on the nature of the mission, either two or all four aircraft could be launched.

They wouldn't have to wait long. The Permian Army, realizing the situation they were in, threw a massive counterattack against the airfield and the paratroopers stationed there. Despite being well dug-in and prepared, the paratroopers at Chirki were facing a numerically superior force with intimate knowledge of the surrounding areas. It wasn't long into the fight that the calls for air support came and the 171st TFS were more than happy to oblige. Rocketing off of the runway at Berezniki, the four Vipers on alert status were given clearance for an unrestricted climb up to 18,000 feet. Keeping the afterburners lit, sucking fuel from their external drop tanks, the Vipers rose rapidly to their cruising altitude, leveled off, and set in for a speed of 550 knots. It would take them only fifteen minutes to get to Chirki at that speed. It was fast but perhaps not fast enough for the troops on the ground who were taking an absolute beating in what could only be described as total havoc.

Checking in with JTACs, the Vipers quickly found what was described as a "target rich environment." Enemy armor was moving against Chirki from the west and the south and the Cottish had not ventured too far from the perimeter of the airfield. It made finding the bad guys that much easier and the Vipers split off into two elements. The primary element consisted of the two Vipers carrying Brimstone missiles exclusively. Each aircraft had taken to the skies with eighteen AGM-169 Brimstone missiles on their wing pylons, a pair of Sidewinders and a pair of AMRAAMs for self-defense, a Sniper targeting pod, and the centerline fuel tank. By the time they hit Chirki, the tanks had long since been dumped, lightening them up of that particular load. For the secondary element, they were carrying the same air-to-air armament and the Sniper targeting pod but instead of eighteen Brimstones they were carrying just six each but they were also carrying four GBU-12 Paveway II bombs and two AGM-65 Mavericks. The Brimstone was highly capable against tanks but the Maverick was truly a hard-hitting missile with a three hundred pound warhead. They could take out a wider array of targets than the Brimstones, which were largely useful against vehicles and only vehicles.

For the primary element of Vipers, the real work began at a range of twenty-five miles. Sweeping the radar across the area, the WSO in each of the two Vipers found a wide array of targets, which meant plenty of victims for their thirty-six Brimstone missiles. Utilizing the Brimstone's salvo-targeting capabilities and the datalink of the aircraft, they were able to, in very rapid fashion, give each missile a unique target and ensure there were not duplications. Directed by JTAC to specific areas, they verified their targets via their targeting pods and at a range of just eight miles, the two Vipers went hot. Separated by a mile between them, the two Vipers were invisible in the skies until the sudden ignition of thirty-six missiles in rapid succession from one another pinpointed their position in the night sky. Released in a salvo with a one-quarter-of-a-second separation between release, the missiles were all put into the air in just a five-second time span. From there, the missiles were independent and the Vipers called out that they were nearly "Winchester," meaning they were out of ammunition. Each still had their cannon rounds but that was all. Air-to-air missiles were of no use to JTAC controllers. Fighter sweeps had largely kept the Permians from putting any attack helicopters into the skies and their fighters weren't getting into the skies either. In essence, their armored units were on suicide missions to retake Chirki amidst total air dominance by the Cottish and the Layartebians.

The Permians got to witness that firsthand as one-by-one, their tanks began to explode. The Brimstone missiles, targeting against the most dangerous armored elements of the Permian Army, ripped into their main battle tanks with little effort, destroying an entire company in one pass. More Vipers would be tasked with the same mission and the results would be similar. The Permians simply couldn't stop the high-flying Vipers, especially as they began to lose their mobile air defense units designed to protect them from aircraft. Incapable of engaging the Vipers and Thunderbolt IIs at useful range, those mobile units were sitting ducks to anti-radiation missiles and anti-tank guided missiles like the Brimstone.

To add to the damage being done, the secondary element of Vipers was vectored into an artillery position that the Permians thought safe due to its relative distance to the airfield. Counterbattery had identified its position but the Cottish lacked the heavy artillery needed to fire back. The Vipers had no such restrictions and, vectoring in on them, they launched their Brimstone missiles on the first pass, wiping out two batteries of guns in the battalion. Their second pass neutralized four guns in the third battery with little effort while their third pass wiped out the remaining two. Thanks to their array of weaponry, the two Vipers still had a pair of Paveway II bombs a piece and these were dropped on what amounted to the battalion headquarters area though by then it had been abandoned by the Permians. As they declared Winchester themselves, the Permians at the battalion looked over the few trucks and tents they had left and entirely moved away from the area.

Throughout the night and into the morning, as the Permians fought against Chirki in what they'd assumed was a pitched battle in their favor, the 171st TFS and A-10Cs from other squadrons flew close air support against them. The Permians would fight, then lose a significant amount of matériel to the Layartebian jets, and then they would fight some more, and lost more, and so on and so forth until the battle was over and the Permians defeated by the might of air power.

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Friday, June 12^th, 2020 | 18:00 hrs [UTC+3]

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Berezniki, Cottish-controlled Perm | Berezniki Airfield
59° 34' 29" N, 56° 51' 19" E

"All right gentlemen, let's settle down," Lieutenant Colonel Harold "Buzz" Anderson said as he entered the ready room. The 171st TFS had settled in quite comfortably at Berezniki, protected by an ever-widening area of Cottish control. Safe from artillery and air attack thanks to distance, air defense units, and persistent CAP sorties, the airfield might have looked like a Confederate airfield still but it was full of Vipers and Thunderbolt IIs, making it anything but.

The pilots settled down and the squadron commander took the podium. "It looks like we've been handed the mother of all targets," he said with a serious look on his face that hid his pleasure. "Cottish intel has uncovered the location of the 143rd Tactical Missile Brigade, an elusive unit that caused us considerable havoc early on in this war. The 143rd's missiles took out a few of our planes and killed a lot of Cottish personnel and civilians in the first seventy-two hours of this war. Now it's time for payback.

"The 143rd Tactical Missile Brigade operates twelve Iskander launchers and each of those has two missiles, so we're talking twenty-four ballistic missiles. With the Cottish making a final drive, the likelihood that the 143rd will launch its weapons into Cottish areas, again, remains high, so they want us to take them out, and obviously we couldn't say 'No' to that request.

"Based on the intel, the 143rd is deployed into the area west and south of Klyuchiki, approximately twenty-five miles southwest of Perm City as the map behind me shows," he continued while pilots scribbled down information on their notepads. They would transfer this data to their kneeboards prior to suiting up for the mission so that they had the right information when they went into the skies. "The 143rd has taken the traditional arrangement and deployed along those lines. There are three battalions, each of which is equipped with four launchers split across two firing batteries. There will be support units at each battery as well. Headquarters is deployed into Klyuchiki-proper but we've easily identified its position in a field near the village center.

"There's more to the target area as well. The Permians have set up a small airfield to the south of the village with some attack and utility helicopters. They'll be a target for us as well. We do not anticipate any threats from fighter aircraft but there will be Wraiths from the 57th flying CAP for us, should the Permians decide they want to oppose us in the air. From a ground-to-air perspective, the threat is anticipated to be two batteries of SA-13 and SA-19 units, so sixteen total units.

"The mission profile will see us working alongside the 140th TFS and the 215th TFS. The 140th TFS and their Vipers will be flying eight aircraft equipped for SEAD and armed reconnaissance. Their job is to protect all of us from the SA-13s and the SA-19s. If the Permians have an SA-6 battery down there, which we do not anticipate, they'll neutralize it as well. The 215th TFS is going to be flying eight aircraft as well and their targets are the headquarters and the airfield. They'll be rolling in behind the 140th TFS. We're going to come in last and our targets are those batteries. We're bringing in twelve aircraft total, four per battery. The Cottish want not just the launchers but the support vehicles wiped out as well. Ordnance will be a mix of Mavericks, Paveways, and Rockeyes. We do this one right and we'll neutralize a major card that the Confederacy has in their pocket."

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Friday, June 12^th, 2020 | 19:30 hrs [UTC+3]

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Berezniki, Cottish-controlled Perm | Berezniki Airfield
59° 34' 29" N, 56° 51' 19" E

Major Bruce "Lion" Smock strapped himself into the pilot's seat of his Viper while his WSO, First Lieutenant Pedro "Juarez" Chavez did the same in the rear cockpit. They'd already completed their walkaround, tugging on the Mavericks and Rockeyes that hung from their wing pylons. With the target just one hundred and twenty miles away, they didn't need to carry much in the way of fuel and so they traded fuel for ordnance. From the centerline hung a 330-gallon fuel tank, which would supplement their internal load of 1,885 gallons of fuel. The tank would largely get them airborne before they needed to dip into their internal fuel, which was more or less what they needed. The tradeoff of more ordnance meant that they were carrying four air-to-air missiles, a pair of AMRAAMs on their fuselage hardpoints and a pair of Sidewinders on their wingtips, a Sniper targeting pod on a fuselage hardpoint, four CBU-100 Rockeye II bombs and four AGM-65G Mavericks on their wing pylons. It was a heavy load but there were a lot of targets to hit.

Smock and Chavez finished up their preflight checks inside of the cockpit and went for engine start. One after the other, the two mighty turbofan engines came to life, roaring on the tarmac as they spooled up to idle speed. More checks were made and finally, at 19:30 hours, Chavez reached for the transmit button and requested taxi clearance. "AJAX 3-1, cleared for taxi, runway 17, hold short, you're ninth in position for takeoff," the tower responded and off they went, pulling out of their revetment and onto the taxiway to the other end of the airfield. They were ninth because they were leading up the third flight of four Vipers. Smock, as flight leader, was bringing three Vipers with him to attack the third firing battery of the 143rd positioned a little over two miles southwest of Klyuchiki. The other two batteries had been spotted two miles to the west and one mile to the south of the village. The headquarters element was near direct center of the village and the airfield was between the headquarters and the southern firing battery, making for a very compact strike area. Where the anti-aircraft units were; however, remained to be seen. It would be up to the Vipers in the 140th TFS to locate them with their sensors and destroy them ahead of the remaining groups. Smock and Chavez weren't too concerned with them, however. The Viper was equipped with a litany of self-defenses that included its ECM jammer, chaff, flare, and decoys. If they stayed high enough, they could easily avoid the guns of the Tunguska launchers and the missiles of the Gophers and the Tunguskas.

Smock and Chavez weren't that far ahead though. They were concentrating on the takeoff and they'd just been given clearance to the tower, "AJAX 3-1, cleared for takeoff, depart heading 190, cleared for unrestricted climb to flight level 1-5-0. Happy hunting." Chavez repeated the command and from the pilot's seat, Smock inched the throttle forward and lined up on the runway. His wingman was off to the right and slightly behind, having just been given clearance as well. Smock ran up the engines to 90% and watched as the RPMs stabilized. He checked for lights and warnings and seeing now, released the brakes. The aircraft began to roll forward and from there he pushed the throttles up to full military power. The Viper began to accelerate and after a few seconds, he pushed the throttles to full afterburner. Disengaging the nose wheel steering a moment later to keep the plane straight on the runway, Smock simply sat back and waited for the rotation speed. The Viper screamed down the runway, its two turbofan engines barking flame and thrust.

He rotated the aircraft off of the runway at 150 knots and retracted the gear as he turned to the heading of 190° and continued a nose-up attitude to climb to 15,000 feet. Off to his starboard side, his wingman was in formation and just fifteen seconds behind them were aircraft two and four. They were airborne and heading towards Steerpoint 1. Ahead of them, the remainder of the Viper force was already airborne and climbing or already at cruising altitude and moving towards the target area. For Smock and AJAX 3 flight, their cruising altitude was 28,000 feet, which gave them more than enough altitude to avoid the deadly SAMs of the SA-13s and SA-19s. The only weapons that could get them this high were the larger medium and longer ranged SAMs but those sites had largely been neutralized. Cottish intel suspected about a half-dozen more SA-6 sites in reserve throughout the remaining areas but had no indication they were active based on their ELINT readings.

Attaining 28,000 feet, Smock leveled off the aircraft and held a speed of 500 knots. It would only be a little over twelve minutes before they reached the target area, which wasn't a particularly long amount of time. The Vipers of the 140th TFS were already at their IP and commencing their search for air defense targets around Klyuchiki. Behind them, the Vipers of the 215th TFS were going through their checks to make sure that they could deploy their weapons accurately. Their attack on the headquarters area would come in multiple waves. Two aircraft would ingress in first and drop four CBU-87s each onto the area, blanketing it in over 1,600 submunitions. From there, those aircraft would come off the target and head to a holding point. They'd still have a pair of Mavericks each in case they needed to attack additional targets. The second wave would come in with Paveway II bombs and drop their weapons on multiple targets, making several passes while they dropped their bombs on key targets, two at a time. The other two aircraft, with their Mavericks, would mop up any targets that needed to be struck again. A similar assault would occur at the airfield, with an initial pass with cluster bombs and a second - and subsequent - pass with guided bomb and Mavericks launched in pairs.

Crossing Steerpoint 4 a few minutes later put AJAX 3 flight on their IP. Reaching that, the flight began to go through their weapons checks. Leading the flight meant that Smock and Chavez would be the first over the target area so it was up to Chavez to locate it, which he did fairly quickly. The attacks ahead of AJAX flight had sent the brigade into a tizzy and the thermal signatures of burning air defense units and vehicles getting ready to run off were easy pickings on the Sniper pods. When Chavez called out "Tally ho" on their target area, he designated it with the targeting pod for Smock to see on the HUD. It was not fifteen miles ahead of them and in the middle of a clearing. "Let's go for the Rockeyes first," Smock called out over the intercom and Chavez set up the weapons. They were going to make just one pass over the target area and drop all four bombs. It was up to Chavez to program the spin rates and the burst altitudes for the bombs. There would be a varied pattern and he intended them to be dropped in pairs. The two pairs would need to be dropped on the actual vehicles and Chavez went for a tighter pattern, aiming to wipe out the launcher vehicles with the bombs but little else. They would use their Mavericks on the support vehicles.

Rolling in, Smock put the aircraft into a slight dive. He flipped the Master ARM switch to ARM and selected the Rockeyes. Switching over to CCRP, he had the first pair of launchers targeted on his HUD and released on cue. Adjusting his dive, he pickled off the next pair on the next set of launchers just 400 meters beyond the first. He pulled out of the dive at 18,000 feet - still with plenty of room to spare should an SA-13 or SA-19 remain - and came off the target. Behind him, his wingman went in with different patterns on the Rockeyes, just in case they needed a wider burst pattern.

The effect was devastating. Each CBU-100 carried 247 submunitions and the eight bombs meant nearly 2,000 submunitions into the small area of the two launcher groups. Watching on the targeting pod, Chavez saw the entire area blanketed in the small explosions of submunitions and then watched the secondaries as the Iskander rockets in the vehicles detonated. The vehicles themselves were destroyed by the submunitions the same as were individuals on the ground scrambling for cover. "AJAX 3-1, good effect on target, 2, you're cleared in hot," Chavez directed over the radio as Smock repositioned them for the next attack, gaining some altitude to climb back to 24,000 feet. Off to their right, the next two aircraft went in for their attack, targeting support vehicles with their cluster bombs, repeating the attack tactics, blanketing the area with tight and wide patterns to maximize the destructive potential of the eight Rockeyes. For small bombs, the Rockeyes were more than capable and deadly to everything in their coverage area.

Rolling in on their second pass, Chavez searched for vehicles and found two targets amidst the smoke and burning wreckage. Locking onto them with the Mavericks, he cued up each one and Smock fired them off in a slight dive, turning off target so that his wingman could come in as well. They continued to make their passes until the entire firing battery was destroyed and though they still had ordnance leftover, their mission was a success. By the time AJAX pulled off target with its twelve Vipers, the entirety of the 143rd Tactical Missile Brigade was wiped out with only a few surviving personnel who managed to avoid the cluster submunitions, guided bombs, and Maverick missiles. Their entire offensive capability was laid to waste along with twenty attack and utility helicopters at their nearby, makeshift airfield. Overall, the SA-13s and SA-19s were no threat. They were neutralized from afar and from higher than their missiles or guns could reach and they were incapable of defending themselves. The missiles and bombs that slammed into the air defense units hit true and precisely and even in the case of fuses that failed to detonate because there were two instances, the sheer kinetic energy of the strike and the precision of the weapons was such that the energy alone turned the vehicles inside out and rendered them unrecognizable hulks of twisted metal and grotesque human coffins.

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• • • † • • •

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[The Kingdom of Apilonia]

His Royal Highness The Prince of Cascadia
James T. McDonald Parliament Building, Royal District of Bainbridge
Duchy of Washington, Kingdom of Apilonia
Friday 4th September 2020, 1900hrs Local Time

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The Parliament Building of the Kingdom of Apilonia, a neoclassical masterpiece that dominated the skyline, sat at the centre of the Royal District of Bainbridge, across Puget Sound (and technically apart of) the national capital city, Seattle. The decision to establish the Royal Government on what had originally been called Bainbridge Island, after the great early Apilonian explorer, Sir Christopher Bainbridge, had been one intended to recognise the distinction between the Crown and the Duchy of Washington. In the end, the first Duke of Washington had eventually chosen Olympia, further to the south, as his capital rather than Seattle, which allowed the city to be formally designated as the Kingdom’s capital, but the Crown presence on Bainbridge Island was already well-established and there had been little point in shifting it a few miles across the Sound to Seattle proper. As such, the Royal District had a very different character to that of Seattle itself, being predominantly neoclassical in its architecture style and appearing far closer to the capitals of Europe than any other part of any other city in the Kingdom. Early on this had been important to make foreign diplomats from Europe feel more comfortable, and eventually it had developed into a unique enclave of Apilonia’s European heritage

Named for James T. McDonald, the Kingdom’s first Prime Minister the Parliament Building had been the site of many an important debate, and monumental moment in parliamentary history, not to mention the scene of countless political power struggles between the elected House of Commons and the hereditary Senate, as the balance between democracy and the nobility ebbed and flowed over the years, albeit consistently in a more democratic direction. Indeed, the balance of power that was the centre of attention in the hallowed halls of the Apilonian Parliament was deliberately weighted, between the Crown, the Senate, and the Commons, by the original Apilonia Charter in order to adequately represent the competing interests of the Crown, the nobility (who had bankrolled the colonial expedition, as the original aristocracy was formed from the principal investors), and the masses. Much of the political games over the centuries that had followed had been around the interpretation of the Charter, and the various pieces of constitutional legislation that had followed, rather than a fundamental shift from the Charter’s broad intentions.

It was the interpretation of the Charter that had captured much of the political attention throughout the summer.

For many years the Commons, regardless of which political party held the majority, had regularly made attempts to reform the balance of power within Parliament. As it currently stood, the Commons introduced the vast majority of legislation, and had sole prerogatives over raising budgets (although they needed the consent of the Senate, which held the power of the purse), as well as being the body in which Governments were formed. However, the Senate, which had originally been established as an advisory body to the Crown, had the right to suggest amendments, and all legislation had to be approved by it, and formalised the formation of a Government by the selection of a Prime Minister from amongst those nominated by the Commons, although in this latter case the Commons had effectively neutered this choice by only nominating one person (the leader of the largest party who could command a majority). For the most part, the Senate was content not to interfere overly much with legislation passed by the Commons, instead amending where necessary and playing a significant role in oversight, both of the Commons and other matters. However, there had been longstanding concern in the Commons that this was all based on norms and traditions, rather than exact constitutional language, which simply granted the Senate the right to advise the Crown, which had been interpreted to give the Senate an outright veto on legislation.

However, any attempt by the Commons to overturn this should it become necessary would immediately fall afoul of one major piece of the Kingdom’s constitutional structure that was not open to interpretation. The Apilonia Charter had specifically granted the Senate, as the collective body of the principal investors as it had been at the time, the power of judicial review; that is the right to determine that specific legislation was in violation of the Charter, and other pieces of constitutional law. As a result, any attempt by the Commons to state that the Senate’s legislative veto was unconstitutional would immediately be rejected by the Senate as being unconstitutional itself, with the same likely happening to any more general attempts at constitutional reform. In short, as it currently stood the Senate had the power to ensure its own survival, and whilst it had never been used in such a manner it was a key tool in the Senate’s political toolkit which was not exactly devoid of options. It would take the removal of this power of judicial review to open up even the possibility of any realistic constitutional reform, and even the more progressive members (of a generally more conservative body) were not inclined to do anything of the sort.

Historically, the Crown had maintained a policy of staying out of that particular political quagmire; knowing that constitutional reform could rapidly get out of hand, and without the support of the Crown there was never any realistic prospect of any constitutional legislation passing the Senate. However, the decision by the Senate to block the use of military force by the Kingdom in support of its close international friend, the Realm of Cotland, despite being heavily supported by the Commons and a personal priority of the King, had drastically changed the political arithmetic. The King had been furious; the fact that Cotland would win the war without assistance, which was the primary reason the Senate had voted down the motion, was beside the point as far as he was concerned given that he saw it was a matter of principle. After several weeks of careful thought, and several more consulting with his Private Secretary and the Evergreen Palace’s policy staff, the old Monarch had made the decision to embark upon a path that had had deliberately stayed away from during his long reign, as had his immediate predecessor.

After meeting with the King, who explained his new position on the matter, the Prime Minister had introduced a new Constitutional Reform Bill to the Commons, albeit one that was significantly toned down from previous iterations that had died upon arrival in the Senate. Instead of implementing sweeping changes, the bill would remove the power of judicial review (and all of its other judicial functions, save for the trial of a peer) from the Senate and place it in the hands of an empowered King’s Bench from the High Court of Justice. Established as an independent organisation, a new Supreme Court of the King’s Bench would not only possess powers of judicial review but also discretionally appellate jurisdiction previously held by the Senate, whilst also gaining additional powers delegated from the Crown. Such an arrangement would ensure that any future constitutional reform would be judged on its constitutional merits rather than the institutional interests of the Senate, as well as providing a forum in which the Commons (and indeed any other party with standing) could file suit to challenge existing interpretation of the Apilonia Charter and other constitutional law, whilst also reinforcing the rule of law and an independent judiciary.

In short, it would deliver a very clear message to the Senate, and although it would not go as far as many campaigners in the Commons would like it certainly opened the door for such in the future.

The Constitutional Reform Bill had sailed through the Commons without much issue, they had absolutely nothing to lose from this arrangement and everything to gain, before entering a tortured passage of the Senate. Although the King coming out to endorse the bill had ensured there was an absolute majority within the Senate to allow it to pass, as he had known, there were still countless procedural means by which those that opposed it could use to delay its passage, the most notable being raft after raft of amendments, all of which had to be considered and voted on by the Senate (and the Commons, in due course), as well as numerous filibusters taking advantage of the standing rule that stated that any Senator, once speaking, could not be compelled to stop (so long as he did not stop himself).

As such, it had been a long summer.

The process had continued, slower at times and faster at its, in both the monthly sessions and the various committees that made up the majority of the Senate’s attention in between main sessions. Most notable of these was the Senate Committee on Legislation which saw numerous fiery debates over various amendments suggested by Senators, both in an attempt to water down the bill on the one hand and to try and bring about a compromise that would smooth the bill’s passage on the other. However, both the Crown and the Commons were stalwart and no major amendments were accepted by the Commons and as a result the original bill consistently returned to the Senate floor for a vote, only to be returned to committee for amendments. This process continued over the course of no less than three sessions, and by August it was trying the patience of even those that wanted to fight the passage of the bill.

In an attempt to break the deadlock, the King had instructed the Prince of Cascadia, his son and heir, to preside over the September session, rather than the Chief Lord of the Senate who normally did so, in an attempt to underline that the Crown’s patience was running out. Everyone knew that this legislation was going to pass one way or another, and if the public relations hit for those Dukes, Earls, and Senators that were holding out was not bad enough, earning the Crown’s disfavour ought to convince them to call it a day. It was particularly telling that King William had sent his son, as it would be the Prince of Cascadia that these men and women would have to deal with in the years to come after he was dead and buried, so any disfavour they earned during this saga would likely say relevant for some time. It was not a tremendously unusual occurrence, as the Senate was an advisory body to the Crown it could (and frequently was) presided over by the Crown, or a designated Crown Proxy such as the Prince, but it had been made clear by the Palace that the King desired the matter to be resolved ‘with the upmost expediency’.

For the Prince of Cascadia, it had been another long day presiding over the Senate, as the debate had continued to rage on the Senate floor. Truth be told, he could not really see what they were still arguing about, given that he had it on good authority that there were not enough Senators inclined to defy the King and continue bouncing the bill around committees. Glancing down at this watch and seeing the hour, the fifty year old Prince stood as the Senator who had been speaking finished and returned to his seat.

“My Lords and honourable Senators, the hour is late and we have discussed this matter at quite some length now,” The Prince commented dryly. “I propose that we move to voting on the bill without further discussion… are there any objections.”

Although there looked like there were a few Senators who were considering objecting in order to speak further, the sharp looks that the Prince was giving those individuals was enough to dissuade them from that notion.

“Good,” The Prince said wryly. “Proceed, Sir Quincey.”

Sir Quincy Damon-Cowles, the Clerk of the Senate, nodded and spoke.

The motion is that the Senate progress the Constitutional Reform Bill as it stands, and advise His Majesty to give his Royal Assent and thereby make the bill law,” Sir Quincey said formally. “As many that are of that opion, say aye.”

“AYE!”

“Of the contrary, Nay.”

“NAY!”

The Prince sighed heavily; although he suspected that the bill had passed there was not a sufficiently clear outcome.

“Read the rolls, Sir Quincey.”

The Prince leant back in his chair as Sir Quincey began to go through the roll call and recorded the votes of each of the Dukes, the Earls, and the Senators. It was one of the oldest traditions of the Senate, one shared with the Commons, that refused to accept any adjustments to match advancements in technology. The point had been made on a number of occasions that the process could be significantly accelerated by any number of digital advancements, however the suggestions had been rejected each and every time they were raised. It was deemed unacceptable from a security perspective, as such a digital system would be an immediate and obvious target for hostile cyber organisations, would reduce the transparency of an oral floor vote, and went against longstanding tradition in any event.

After a time, Sir Quincey turned back to the Prince.

“The count is complete, Your Royal Highness,” Sir Quincey said formally, handing him a slip of paper.

“Very well,” The Prince nodded, taking the slip and reading the figures to confirm his own count. “The ayes, are thirty-eight, the nays, are twenty-two, so the ayes have it, the ayes have it.”

With the bill passed by the Senate it would be presented to the King within the hour, which he would promptly sign, at which point it would formally become the Constitutional Reform Act of 2020. There would be dozens of pieces of secondary legislation, statutory instruments and the like that would implement the Act, passed in the coming days, weeks, and months, but the hard work was done as statutory instruments did not require Senate approval. When the King gave his Royal Assent, he would mark the single largest change in the Kingdom’s constitutional arrangement in decades, which was exactly what he had intended. The simple fact of the matter was that the Commons have favoured military action in support of the Cots, and whilst the King would have been furious anyway it was this decision by the Senate to ignore the Commons that had been the last straw, as it was blatantly undemocratic. In many respects, the Senate had finally committed a political blunder that they had been trying to avoid for some years, giving both the Crown and the Commons the excuse they needed for such a constitutional shakeup.

Although there was some anger in the Senate, and elation in the Commons, over the political implications, but most within the Apilonian Establishment were disappointed that the entire situation had come about in the first place. The Kingdom had always enjoyed positive relations with the Realm of Cotland, the King’s grandson was engaged to a Cottish Princess after all, so the fact that the Senate had made a decision not to commit military forces in support of one of their oldest friends was galling. It was also fundamentally out of touch with public opinion, in many respects the Senate had been stuck in the mindset that had pervaded the Kingdom for several decades after the loss of the bulk of its colonial empire. The Crown, most of the Establishment, and the public as a whole had started to move on, but the Senate had stuck in an outdated mindset.

It was generally hoped, in the halls of power, that the passing of this Act would avoid the necessity for another, much to the disappointment of those that felt that all progress ought to be enshrined in legislation. It was hoped that the Senate would gradually evolve from a chamber that had adopted increased legislative power, arguably beyond that which had been intended in the original Charter, into a place of sober second thought, where the focus was on producing the best possible piece of legislation rather than re-fighting the political argument that would have occurred within the Commons. Too often it seemed that the Senate was seen by some within all political parties as a second battlefield after a failure in the Commons, when this was simply not supposed to be the case. If it became necessary legislation would be passed, and given that the Prince of Cascadia was known for his views on strengthening the position of the Commons vis-ai-vis the Senate it was almost certain to pass eventually, that would specify the exact powers, authorities, and competencies of each body. However, all that was really needed was a re-assessment of the prevailing interpretation, championed by many Senators, of the Charter, which was precisely why establishing an independent Supreme Court had been King William’s retaliation for embarrassing him.

After signing the Constitutional Reform Act into law, the King would also write to King Sverre of Cotland, once again expressing his regret that Apilonia had not been able to support the Realm in the manner in which he would have liked. Unlike previous correspondence, it would contain the promise that the same would not be the case in the future, and with the Senate suitably chastised by the passage of the CRA it was a promise that he would be able to keep in the future. It was reassuring at least that, by all accounts, the Trauma Surgeons and other medical and support personnel that had been deployed in supporting roles to Cotland had distinguished themselves and done what they could, as it meant that Apilonia had been able to help in some form. It was clear, both from the King’s letter and from various other channels, that if Cotland was ever in need of aid again this time Apilonia would be there.

[Layarteb]

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• • • † • • •

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Monday, June 15^th, 2020 | 07:00 hrs [UTC-5]

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Layarteb City, New York | Fortress of Comhghall
40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W

As the Emperor entered his office on the morning of June 15, he was greeted by an urgent message to call the Minister of Foreign Affairs, which he did so, expecting something untoward had happened somewhere and a new crisis was about to unfold. Yet, he was greeted by remarkably good news, the last of the Permian soldiers had announced they sought a ceasefire and terms of surrender and, in addition, the Cottish had accepted and were going to be implementing the ceasefire soon. Military commanders were ecstatic, to say the least. The 48-day conflict had been brutal and a slog for Cottish and Layartebian personnel. Many Cottish soldiers lay dead, dying, or maimed and Layarteb had lost quite a fair amount of aircraft and airmen, some still being held captive inside of Perm City.

As the Cabinet meeting began that morning at precisely 07:30, the Emperor took the moment to announce it to those present who hadn't yet been read in on the news which was barely an hour old by then, "I have good news this morning," he began, "we've received word shortly ago that Perm City has requested a ceasefire to negotiate a surrender and Sverre and the Cottish government have accepted it. Effectively, the war is over and combat operations can halt." Those around the table clapped at the good news, a show of elation they'd been waiting for now for more than seven weeks.

"Do we know what the post-war plans are for the Urals sir?" Minister Spears of Interior asked.

"The Cottish have already expressed their intentions to annex and integrate the former territories into the Realm. The King will be announcing this nationally tomorrow morning. There will be a long integration and rebuilding process during which time those who planned, approved, and orchestrated the terrorist attacks on the Realm will face judicial trials and, if found guilty, the death penalty perhaps. It is the intention of this government, I trust, that we will support the Cottish government one hundred percent in this endeavor. Are there any objections whatsoever?" The Emperor didn't expect to hear any and there were none. The Cabinet was unanimously in support of the Cottish annexation and of whatever judicial plans they had post-war. "What is the current status and count on our MIAs, POWs, and KIAs?"

"Sir as of yesterday, we had fourteen POWs still in captivity and nine KIA/BNRs."

"Twenty-three men still to come home; this is our priority," said the Emperor, "we can work on crash recovery afterwards. This needs to be our highest priority."

"Yes sir," the Minister of Defense answered, "we've already been working with the Cottish on this and they know it is our highest priority as well. Now that Perm City is being surrendered it will not take long before we can finalize this process."

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Tuesday, June 16^th, 2020 | 08:00 hrs [UTC+5]

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Perm City, Cottish-occupied Perm | Perm City
57° 59' 36" N, 56° 15' 10" E

The ceasefire had become official the previous night, broadcast over all radio and television nets inside of what remained of the Republic of Perm, but more specifically inside of Perm City. The last of the defenders had accepted the terms of the ceasefire and laid down their arms. They were a fraction of what remained, barely forty thousand men against a half million Cots. Surrounded and besieged, they could have fought on and made every block miserable for the Cottish. They'd have lost in the end, which they knew, but they could have bled the Cottish miserably over days and weeks in urban warfare where their forty thousand could be the equivalent of four hundred thousand. Yet they chose the smarter route, the route of surrender. Their leaders had failed them and they knew it. Punishments would be doled out by a military administration underneath the Cottish flag as annexation began.

By the next morning, the city was awakening from its nightmare. Permian soldiers had been carted off to POW camps while Cottish soldiers took their places. There still remained the signs of warfare though, the barbed wire, the bunkers, the makeshift machine gun positions, the ambush sites, and the war matériel that the Permians left parked for the inevitable "last stand" they were instructed to make. In a few hours, they would all gather around their radios and television sets to watch a live broadcast by the King but in the interim, they were going to have to acquaint themselves with the visual differences of Cottish soldiers and Cottish tanks. It was going to be a striking difference for them but they needed to know that the war was over, that the Cottish had won, and that any resistance would be met with strong and sharp action. This was now the time for peace, for rebuilding, for healing.

As a show of force, the ILAF was going to be conducting a series of flyovers over Perm City. Four-ship formations of Vipers, Enforcers, and Falcons would make low-speed transits over the city at 1,000 feet, entering controlled airspace over the city and flying through very specific waypoints, ensuring that all those within the city not only could see but also hear the fighter jets. It was as much to show the Cottish troops that the skies were friendly and the airmen still there to protect them as much as it was to show the people of Perm City that their lingered an force willing to strike them down if they so desired to get testy.

The first flight was to be made by four Vipers from the 171st TFS, which was the closest fighter unit to Perm City. Taking off in a clean configuration, save for external drop tanks, the four Vipers were under the command of Major Smock. Just days earlier, he'd led a formation of aircraft to take out launchers of the 143rd Tactical Missile Brigade. He hadn't known it then but that very mission had been the final nail in the coffin for the Permian leadership. The loss of their Iskanders meant they had nothing left to fight the Cottish but what they had within the confines of the city. The loss had been a disaster for the Permian leadership and, rightfully so, been their final undoing.

Approaching the city, Smock's WSO First Lieutenant Chavez, contacted ATC to enter controlled airspace. While fighter aircraft could typically operate however they wanted in controlled airspace, the situation in Perm was different. Transport aircraft were entering and departing the main airport, bringing supplies and flying back to get more. This made for a messy situation and the fighter flights would be near enough to the airport that someone needed to oversee them. Contacting ATC at a distance of 10 miles, Shrike flight was authorized to descend from their transit altitude of 15,000 feet down to 5,000 feet and maintain a speed of 300 knots. Closing at five miles from the city, they were stepped down to 2,500 feet but slowed down to 250 knots. They went down to 1,000 feet as they crossed the city's perimeter but they maintained 250 knots, their minimum airspeed for this flight. Coming in slow, unarmed, but flying in formation, the four aircraft began a long transit through and around the city, showing off their airframes to those on the ground. As they banked, the roundels of the ILAF were easily seen by anyone caring to look and many would. The roaring sound of the jet fighters overheard was unmistakable.

In the end though, the flight would go off without a hitch as would the subsequent flights that day. The citizens of Perm wouldn't need much more reminder that they were an occupied people now, especially not after the King's televised address at 08:00 GMT.

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Wednesday, September 2^nd, 2020 | 10:00 hrs [UTC-5]

---

Layarteb City, New York | Fortress of Comhghall
40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W

In the days the followed the June 15 surrender of Perm, the Layartebians began the long process of leaving Eastern Cotland. First, the POWs were released and brought to medical facilities were they were checked out and given treatment. All of them had been treated as had been suspected. The Permian KGB had been merciless, beating and torturing the pilots, interrogating them for information about Cottish and Layartebian positions and tactics. Some had been tricked into signing false confessions and all but two had been broken by the KGB's medieval methods. There was no shame in it though, it was to be expected, the air force only asked its pilots to last twenty-four hours and they all had, in fact none had broken before forty-four hours. Separated from one another, each pilot was on his own, fighting for his own survival and his own faculties, knowing that the longer he held out, the less valuable his information. The Permian KGB knew it and so they tried and tried their best.

The two who never broken became true sores for the Permian KGB. Captain Bruce "Hammer" Fry and Lieutenant Colonel Joseph "Rat" Munson were thorns in the side of the Permian KGB. Indignant and stubborn, they made the lives of their captors miserable and the Permians were more than happy to let them go. They'd not shot them earlier simply because they understood the value in the bargain chip these men afforded them. Eventually, the interrogations stopped though the torture did not and when the men were released there was no denying their allegations of torture. In fact, a formal request to the Cottish had been made for the transfer of several of these Permian KGB interrogators and torturers over to Layartebian custody following their Cottish trials to then face Layartebian justice. For Fry and Munson, the air force was more than ecstatic to hear they'd kept the faculties and resisted. In recognition of this, each would be awarded the Air Force Cross, the third highest medal in the ILAF.

Beyond the release of the POWs, recovery teams also had to contend with the retrieval of airmen who'd been killed and their bodies not yet recovered. All had been killed inside of their cockpits and went down with their aircraft. Whether it was locals or soldiers sent to investigate, all of those airmen had been buried near their aircraft and it would take forensics teams a few weeks to locate and to recover these remains. From there, they'd be sent home, positively identified via mortuary affairs, and given proper burials back in the Empire. Recovery teams would also work on gathering the wreckage, including any lingering sensitive components, of the downed aircraft and returning that to the Empire for investigation. It was obvious all had been lost in combat since mechanical failure would not kill a pilot or prevent him from ejecting. It would eventually be determined that some were brought down by ground fire others by air-to-air missiles.

In the coming weeks, squadrons left one-by-one. First it was the fighter squadrons assigned to CAP duties. Without an enemy air force they had no role. Then it was the heavy strike aircraft and the bombers, which no longer had any targets worthy of their large bombs. Then it was the auxiliary aircraft and finally, when the Cottish decided they no longer would need the support of ground attack or CAS-focused units, they left. Formal ceremonies were held and Cottish officers thanked their Layartebian counterparts. The losses had been disproportionate but that was largely because the Layartebians had stayed in the skies and not fought on the ground.

In all, the ILAF suffered fourteen airmen captured and thirty-one killed in combat operations. Matériel losses totaled sixteen A-10C Thunderbolt IIs, eleven F-16C Falcons, two F-26A Vultures, one EF-26B Vulture, fifteen F-28B Vipers, and seven F-30A Shrikes. Seventy-two airmen had been shot down and twenty-seven had been recovered by CSAR or were able to eject over friendly territory and/or forces. The most harrowing rescue came from an F-16C severely damaged and its pilot ejecting over an active battle zone. He landed only a few hundred meters from hostile forces and was able to make contact with Cottish units who swept in to recover him mere minutes before his capture. He'd been shot down providing CAS to the same troops who'd recovered him and they were more than grateful for his efforts, having watched in horror as a MANPAD missile struck the plane and mortally crippled it as the pilot pulled out of a bombing dive.

The political and administrative tasks were left to the Cottish and insofar as the Layartebian government was concerned, political support was all that was necessary and so it was given at every turn. The capture of Ruslan Termjakov, not yet public knowledge, had occurred only the previous day. Had it been public knowledge, it would have made the day less bittersweet and more joyous than it was for today was the official ceremony honoring the contributions of the ILAF to the war.

Held on Governors Island on what was an otherwise warm yet cloudy day, the ceremony honored several key airmen for their contributions to the war. Fry and Munson were awarded their AFCs, Fordham was awarded his Medal of Honor and a number of other medals, and many other airmen were awarded medals. A service was held for the POWs and for those killed and another service held for the Cottish dead. Several Cottish soldiers had been invited to participate along with the Cottish ambassador. Solemn was the day but it was to honor the contributions of many to give peace to a corner of the world long ruled by the hostile administration of the Confederacy. By then, there remained no trace of the ILAF in Eastern Cotland and many of the airbases and airfields used by then had been cleaned up and rid of their detritus from airstrikes, cluster bombs, and war.

---

• • • † • • •

---

[Cotland]

Epilogue

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Då den store
stig på domstolen,
han frå det høge,
som heimen styrer.
Han saker sætter
og domar sèt,
sèt vé som alltid
vara skal.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Makarelv, Kostroma len, Realm of Cotland
12:00 (Local, 10:00 GMT), Saturday, 27 March, 2021

As the time struck noon, the deep rumble of drums ended any lingering conversations among the thousands that had gathered at the city square. Steadily the beat of the drums set the pace, before a lone piper joined in the mournful tune. As the verse reached the chorus, more instruments gradually joined in until a mighty mournful melody resounded across the city centre of the town that had reached the world’s headlines a year ago.

After the mournful Hymn to the Honoured Fallen ended, a young woman dressed in black took the podium at the center before the still closed-off lot where the Makarelv Temple had burned a year ago. While the temple was under reconstruction, there was still a long way to go before the magnificent structure would be replaced by an equal structure ready to welcome worshipers.

“Your Majesty, Your Excellencies, Ladies and Gentlemen, Friends. Welcome to this memorial ceremony where we remember and honour the victims of the terrorist attacks that altered all our lives a year ago. My name is Evelina Mattsson, and I have been asked by the Makarelv Municipal Council to lead you through this ceremony.

“Let me first take you back to a year ago, to the twenty-seventh of March of the year twenty twenty. It was a Friday like every other typical Friday in our peaceful town. The sun was shining and starting to thaw away the winter snows. The Winter Solstice had taken place the previous weekend, and everyone was looking forward to spring and summer with all that entails. The Åsatru faithful came to the Temple to offer their prayers for their hopes and worries. It was a typical Friday.

“Then the bombs struck our peaceful town.

“In the fires that followed, Makarelv suffered the greatest loss in modern times. Eight hundred and thirty-seven of our brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, were brutally and mercilessly ripped away from us as the Temple exploded and burned.

“Today, we are here to honour them and remember them.”

“You will hear many people today. Men and women, young and old, who will share their experiences. You will hear tale of sorrow and loss. You will hear tale of heroism and people who rose to the occasion. And you will hear of the thousands that came to Makarelvs assistance, from not only the nearby communities, but indeed from the whole of Cotland that came to help in our hour of need. The first who wish to share with you hardly needs any presentation, but I’ll give you one nonetheless.

“The first sign we got that we were not alone in our grief and struggle, but that all of Cotland shared in our experiences came when our first speaker came into the chaos to share in our sorrows. Though his example, we knew that we weren’t alone in this. Ladies and Gentlemen, His Majesty King Sverre.”

Approaching the podium came the Cottish King, dressed for the occasion in a deep black three-piece suit, crisp white shirt and black silk tie under his black wool coat. Looking out to the podium, the King took in the sight of sixteen thousand people gathered at the City Square, absolutely packing the area.

“Dear everyone.

“The last year has been a heavy one for us all. But that is exactly when its good to be able to be together. My thoughts have been especially with you who were directly affected by the terror and you who have lost someone you loved.

“As a father and husband, I can only sense some of your pain. As the country’s King, I feel with every one of you.

“After such traumatic experiences, it can take a long time to rebuild. In this time it is important to remember that grief has many forms of expression, and there must be room for all. Feelings of guilt and anxiety, rage and emptiness.

“We continue to grieve together. But in the grief I also have a great need to say thank you.

“I want to thank all you who were here at the City Square and at the Temple, who have resolved that your experiences shall not be allowed to break you.

“I want to thank all the helpers – in the police forces, fire and rescue services, healthcare professionals, the religious communities, the Armed Forces, Civil Defence, volunteer – and to all those of you who on your own resolve stepped up and just had to help. All of you have shown us what care and courage means in practice when it matters the most. Many saved the lives of others, some while risking their own. Many continue to offer their support to ease sorrow and support those in need.

“In the past year, we have followed eight hundred and thirty seven Makarelvians to their graves. We have had the opportunity to get to know each of the deceased – through stories told through the media, and through obituaries. We lost eight hundred and thirty-seven people who wished to use their lives for the betterment of the community where were part of. We shall honour their memory by working hard every day to further the values that were important to them: Peace. Freedom of expression. Freedom of religion. Freedom to live your life as you wish. Liberty.

“It was exactly that liberty that was first assaulted here in Makarelv. The terror turned out to be the opening shots in a war that would engulf the region.

“When we learned that a foreign power was responsible for the deaths of eight hundred and thirty-seven Makarelvians, we demanded that the responsible parties be held accountable.

“When this was refused, we put the full might of the Realm behind our demands.

“A devastating war was fought and won over the loss suffered here in Makarelv and elsewhere in Cotland.

“Thousands of our young men and women answered their nation’s call and made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedoms to believe and worship as we wish, including an additional forty-three Makarelvians. Their sacrifice for our liberties shall never be forgotten.

“As we gather here to remember our lost brothers and sisters, those who we believe to be responsible are being made to answer for their crimes in our courts. Justice will be served, and in the end, our democratic system will prove a thousandfold stronger than the dictatorship that sought to force their will upon us through the wanton murder of innocents.

“I wish today to repeat what I said in the days after the tragedy that took place a year ago: I remain firm in my belief that freedom is stronger than fear. I remain firm in my belief in an open Cottish democracy and community. And I remain firm in my belief in our opportunities to live freely and safely in our own country.

“The attacks have reminded us of the basic things that tie us all together in our diverse society. Let us cherish this acknowledgement – and let’s take care of each other. Let us as individuals be clear on what we stand for, and use our opportunities to affect the society we live in in a positive manner.

“The coming time will continue to demand a lot of us all. For you who have lost someone you love, it will be especially hard as the national grief gradually subsides. When the strong community we’ve experienced in this past time isn’t as palpable anymore. That is when we need fellow humans that see those who grief and those who struggle with their lives – someone to be with them when the light of attention starts to wane.

“When the everyday life is to be lived.

“As a nation we will take this time with us in our hearts, in our experience – and remember that we are awoken to a new consciousness about what really matters to us. And most importantly: We will not forget.”

[Cotland]

Friday, 31 April, 2021

As part of the surrender agreement signed almost a year ago, the Cottish had promised that the people of Niezgorodskaja would be allowed to have a say in their own future after the end of the war. Consequently, since 2020 gave way to 2021, the Cottish government had sponsored a public campaign to sway the people of the former Confederacy to join Cotland properly. The people of Perm and Niezgorodskaja had been reminded of their newfound freedoms and increased prosperity, granted at the behest of the Cottish government. Rationing had ended in February, and the last of the Confederate prisoners of war had been released in March. At the same time, the occupation force in Niezgorodskaja and Perm was halved from 150,000 troops to 75,000.

Survey polls conducted through winter showed a steadily increasing support for the idea of joining Cotland, but those were only suggestive. The real test would come in the end of April, when the Cottish held the first referendum in Niezgorodskajan history. Every Niezgorodskajan above the age of 18 was eligible to cast their vote, which was a yes/no answer to a simple question: “Do you think that Niezgorodskaja should join the Realm of Cotland?”

At 7:00, the polling stations opened throughout Niezgorodskaja, and contrary to the most pessimistic punduts on talkshows, the Niezgorodskajans were out in force. When the polls closed at 21:00, an estimated 82% of the eligible voters had showed up at the polling places, which were monitored by third-party officials from Apilonia and various member states of the Shenzen Pact. The few claims of election fraud were investigated with third-party officials supervising, and were found to be human error rather than sinister intent. These cases were corrected by a recount.

In the end, almost fourteen million of the seventeen million eligible voters in Niezgorodskaja had cast their votes. Of these, 11,602 million voted “Yes” to the question of joining Cotland against 2,23 million votes voting “No.”

As 83,88% of the cast votes were in favor, the referendum was declared a landslide mandate for Niezgorodskaja to formally petition the Cottish Government to join the Realm.


Friday, 28 May, 2021

A month later, it was time for the people of Perm to vote in their referendum. Here, there was a somewhat tougher crowd as a vocal minority voiced their resistance to further Cottish overlordship and urged the people to vote to return sovereignty to Perm.

Yet again, third-party officials monitored the referendum throughout the rebuilding war-ravaged land. Of the nineteen million eligible voters asked to answer Yes or No to the question “Do you think that Perm should join the Realm of Cotland?”, 12,311 million or 64,71% voted “Yes” against 6,714 million or 35,29% voting “No.”

Despite a very vocal squabble in media between the stern fronts in this matter, the result was eventually accepted by the population. Consequently, over summer, almost two million Permian citizens accepted the consequence and took advantage of the newly opened borders to emigrate south to Russia, leaving their homeland behind for whatever the future under the Cottish Lion might bring.


Rikstinget, Oslo, Realm of Cotland
12:00, Monday, 4 October, 2021

Following the formal ceremony of Rikstinget, where King Sverre had formally opened the 203rd Parliament and read the Throne Speech to the Parliamentarians and offered his royal guidance to the Parliamentarians. Following this traditional speech, the youngest of the King’s Ministers –thirty-seven-year old Minister of Shipping and Fisheries Emil Brobakken – read the State of the Realm Speech, describing the current state of the Realm and the Government’s focus for the coming year to the Parliament. With this presented, the King and his entourage departed the Great Hall, leaving the 300 Members of Parliament to observe the rules laid down in the Constitution to refrain from political work while the Monarch was on the grounds of the Parliament.

Finally, the seven parliamentarians who had been selected to serve as the Monarch’s deputation returned to the Great Hall and formally announced to the President of the Rikstinget that the King had departed the grounds and that parliamentary discussion could continue.

The first debate of the new Parliamentary year was as always the Throne Debate, where the Parliamentarians debated the topics raised by the Monarch in the Throne Speech. Usually this was led by the opposition parties, as the Throne Speech was de facto written by the incumbent Government these days.

One of the most potent topics was the part of the Throne Speech where the King had spoken about his wish to accept the expressed will of the people of Niezgorodskaja and Perm and hoping that Parliament would hear the voices of the people and absorb the two occupied territories into the Realm.

A fierce debate would take place in the coming week that would end with Parliament putting the matter to a vote.

In the end, the three-party coalition Government would be joined by six supporting parties and carry the day by a 222-76 vote with two abstentions in favor of absorbing Niezgorodskaja and Perm into the Realm.

The following day, the Law of 22 October 2021 number 295 on Annexation of the Occupied Territories of Niezgorodskaja and Perm (Confederacy Annexation Act) bill was forwarded to the Royal Palace authorizing King Sverre to annex Niezgorodskaja and Perm into the Realm of Cotland with the blessing of Parliament.

On the 23rd of October, 2021, as former presidents Termjakov and Sardjenski stood trial in a very public Petersborg Criminal Court proceeding, King Sverre signed the bill into law.

With a signature on a piece of paper, the King formally ended the war and military occupation by annexing the occupied territories into the Realm and subsequently made almost forty-five million Niezgorodskajans and Permians into Cottish citizens with all rights and responsibilities therein, and increased Cottish internationally recognized sovereign territory by 441,900 square kilometers.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Two months after the annexation, while winter was approaching, the most public trial in decades came to an end in Petersborg as the two erstwhile leaders of the Confederacy of the Urals were found guilty of mass murder and illegal warfare against Cotland, and condemned to death by hanging. The verdicts were immediately appealed. A second round in the legal system took place the coming spring, reaching the same verdict. After a final appeal to the Supreme Court which was rejected as the verdict was upheld, and a final desperate plea seeking the King’s mercy, the time had come for justice to finally be served.


Solsti Prison
Solsti, Holmgard len
04:30, Tuesday, 9 May, 2022

In a barren prison courtyard in central Ingermanland early in the morning, a somber procession was brought out from the main building. The convicted were dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, handcuffed between two guards as he was brought to the gallows that had been erected the previous day. The sun hadn’t risen yet, so the courtyard was illuminated by floodlights. Apart from the warden, a priest, a doctor, a few guards, and naturally the hangman dressed in black, the courtyard was devoid of people.

Climbing the scaffold with unsteady steps, the convicted was quickly prepared by the hangman. With a white hood over the head and noose was placed over his head, the experienced hangman had the convicted prisoner ready for punishment and positioned over the drop within ten seconds before stepping back.

“Ruslan Termjakov, you have been convicted to death for your crimes by a court of law.” The warden formally declared. “Do you have any final words before sentence is carried out?”

The former president of Perm stood stoical; the silence broken only by the elderly man’s deep breathing.

“Very well. Executioner, do your duty!”

The executioner did his duty, pulling a lever that released the drop doors that the former president of Perm stood over. A short drop and a sudden stop later, Ruslan Termjakov’s life ended as dawn broke over central Cotland on Tuesday, the Ninth of May 2022.

Termjakov’s execution was the first of some 120 executions that would be carried out over the next two years of convicted Confederate officials and soldiers for the terror attacks that started a war and a Cottish territorial expansion.

To the victims, it was a symbol of justice being served.

For everyone else, it marked the close of a violent and traumatic chapter in the annals of the Realm of Cotland.

THE END