By Sand and Sea (IC, CLOSED)

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

12^th of March, 2021
(OOC: OOC-Thread Here.)

Some 45 nautical miles south of the island republic of Malta, the 20,000 ton landing ship Tonnerre of the Gallian Marine Nationale kept station tranquilly in the bobbing waves. She was part of Standing Naval Force Mediterranean, NATO and EDA's naval presence in what was once called Mare Nostrum - Our Sea by the Romagnans. In fact, the flag of STANAVFORMED was on Tonnerre today, a radical change compared to the four decades the Gallian military spent detached from the NATO command structure.
This had come about in 2011 when the Libyan theatre exploded. Since then, and the cessation of immediate hostilities STANAVFORMED had been busy as bees keeping the Libyan pressure cooker from escalating again into all-out warfare. In 2016 alone, five years since the late President-for-Life El-Said lit the fuse on his powder keg, NATO had stopped at least a dozen vessels smuggling arms to the simmering conflict and ferried thousands of refugees away from it, its land forces keeping the Democratic Republic of Libya afloat in at least Tripolitania and parts of Fezzan while Cyrenaica was essentially ceded to forces still loyal to the former Saidist regime. This stalemate endured as long as neither party had the military force competent or sufficient enough to force a breakthrough despite the NATO peacekeepers.

In mid-2018 however, NATO forces started drawing down from Libya, in preparation for the eventuality that the Saderan theatre required more forces, creating what the Saidist loyalists perceived to be a temporary power vacuum as the European forces gradually started leaving the country. This was an opportunity General Hosni Muammar El-Said, cousin of the deceased ex-president and now de facto leader of the Saidist faction was not blind to, and he set into motion plans to take advantage of the apparent absence of forces more competent than his own.
However, the preparations for this, the reunification of the former Libyan Arab Republic under the banner of an El-Said again was thwarted in part by the absolutely horrible condition General El-Said found his forces in. To rebuild his forces to a reasonable enough level to challenge the forces of the Democratic Republic of Libya took two years, helped along significantly with extensive pleading and begging to Moscow. Now, he had 2 fully equipped motor-rifle brigades and a tank brigade, plus an anti-aircraft rocket regiment lavishly outfitted with the latest and greatest in the Orussian arsenal, who even added a brigade of "volunteers" to boot. The reconstituted Libyan Arab Air Force now had a paper force of four fighter squadrons and one transport.

It was this force of fighters that were now tasked with firing the opening shot of the war that will see the western imperialists driven out of his country, or so Hosni hoped.
By the dawn's early light a four ship formation of Fulcrums lifted off from Benina International, heading westbound.
Some 300 nautical miles of cruising at the economic speed later the lead aircraft dropped down to sea level and armed. Not even a dozen minute later the radar room of Tonnerre burst into activity as she detected the inbound flight. Even before Surcouf, their designated escort could hail the incoming unknowns though a total of eight missiles were detected on launch.

The captain of the 20,000 ton Tonnerre immediately threw his vessel into a hard turn to port in a cloud of countermeasures, while Surcouf engaged the incoming vampires. The two vessels combined brought five out of eight missiles down in a flurry of AA missile and gunfire. Of the remaining three, two went wide for the decoys, the last one however smashed into Tonnerre's hull just below the bridge.

The rocket fuel immediately ignited a fairly significant fire in the onboard hospital which had to be subsequently sealed. Fortunately however, it appears to the damage control team fighting the blaze that the main missile warhead had failed to explode, limiting the damage done to where it had impacted. The roof of the CIC below was a little heated but that appears to have been the extent of it. Of course, with the hospital out of commission they had to locate a new casualty receiving station in the mess deck. Otherwise, and despite the smoke and fire belching out of her side, Tonnerre still appeared to be fightable as a ship. Opting for caution however, her captain wheeled the ship around so the wind blew the fire out to sea and when that was eventually suppressed set course for Malta for the emergency repairs he expected. A message was of course sent out on the international emergency channel, but not a mayday given that his ship was in no danger of sinking.
"All channels... Foxtrot, Alpha, Tango, Oscar calling. Our position is Grid Reference Charlie November 3759. We have been struck by one missile on our starboard side. Onboard medical facilities are inoperative. Requesting assistance."

[The Selkie]

Lieutenant Commander Meave Derfúrchéi of the Tribe of Cavan.
SDFS Sealgaire, in the Mediterranean.
The Gods alone knew, what we were doing here, but it was typical operational procedure for the SDF: Due to the withdrawal of forces from Lybia three years ago, somebody had to fill the gap. As the SDF was merrily participating in the whole Operation Spartacus Shebang, we had agreed to keep the sea lanes off of Lybia free, thus freeing forces from our allies.
In addition to the forces we were deploying to Sadera.
That was over by now, however, our forces back home - with the exception of the SDF-Force Tine, which was still on the duty of securing the Freedom of Navigation, attached to STANAVFORMED as an allied force. We cooperated, I'd even say we cooperated well, but that was mostly owed to the fact, that we left STANAVFORMED do their thing and they let us do our thing, preferably without interfering with each othe.
When the alarm sirens began blaring, however, I was sitting in the pilot ready room. Ferris and Siana, my two children, had written me a letter each. Apparently, the Iris (which Ferris attended), hosted a festival by the end of June, something with Sensha-Do, and they were both looking forward to it. Ferris was not a member of the Team of his school, but he liked Festivals (aside from the many pretty girls coming for a visit).
I put the letter down and just as I wanted to reach for the receiver to call the bridge, it rang. "Pilot Ready Room, Derfúrchéi."
"Bridge, Scealp.", the male voice of our Captain replied, "Get some helicopters into the air. Tonnerre was attacked and hit, they're requesting assistance. Give me a CAP. Gualla is on his way."
"Understood, Bridge." I hung up and turned to the ready room: "Tonnerre was attacked and hit. We'll help them. A-Flight, into the air with 5 and 6. B-Flight, 2 is up right now?" While the first helicopter crews were running out to their machines, one of the AWACS-Helicopter pilots nodded. "Good, 3 goes up as well. C-Flight, 1, 2, we launch after them. We'll provide CAP. The rest, keep ready."
And the room exploded into movement, the flight deck soon swarming with machines, people and rushing air as Cuaifeachs and Craiceáiltes took off into the sky over the Mediterranean.
I knew, that it was unlikely, that we would catch the attackers, but we might be able to deter anyone trying for a second run. And with our ships on high alert, it was unlikely, that anyone would try so again.
From my high vantage point, I saw SDFS Tocht, our replenishment ship with extra large hospital, detach with SDFS Acatas escorting her - they would move closer to Tonnerre to provide more immediate assistance.
In my gut, I felt, that this was only the first step in a great mess, which was about to begin.
However, I had to smile: When I had put on the flight suit, Commander Gualla, the Commander of the Air Group, had intercepted me. "Good job getting them into motion, Meave.", he had told me and grinned, running for his own helicopter.
I exhaled - I wished, that we had some sort of fighter support, fixed-wing fighters, that is. That would make it a lot easier.

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

12th of March, 2021

To say that Vice-Amiral Maximilien Henri Comte de la Venerie, flag officer commanding STANAVFORMED was having a bad day was an understatement of some magnitude. His flagship, BPC Tonnerre had a gaping hole in her starboard side that was in the process of belching black smoke from the funeral pyre of the remains of her medbay. The midsection of the ship was flooded with water from the efforts to contain and seal off the fire and, given how the roof of the command centre haven't caved in yet there was probably a warhead still stuck in the walls of the compartments that were now lost. Just cleaning the compartments out would probably cost a few million francs... all in all a bad day for the French Navy and for NATO.
But the day for Amiral Comte de la Venerie was about to go from bad to worse. Surcouf, who had pulled up alongside to make her pumps and waterhoses available suddenly withdrew them and reversed her engines. They were still headed for Valletta, Malta so the frigate immediately fell backwards. Moments later as Surcouf wheeled about, her deck gun pointing towards where they had come from the duty watch officer on Tonnerre called the bridge with an ominous warning: "Capitaine, we have more bogies inbound, heading 150. Altitude high. Numbers unknown. They have ECM."
Vice-Amiral Maximilien gulped a little as Tonnerre's captain wheeled her around, following Surcouf and bringing the maximum of her defensive armaments to bear. They had not expected a second wave from these as yet unidentified foes missilising them. A clue would soon come from Surcouf when she reported that there were at least one Fencer-F in the bogie formation responsible for jamming their long range search systems, and not very many people on this side of the Mediterranean were known to have Fencer-F's... beyond the Libyans who had recently received a small quantity from ex-Soviet stocks...

"Get a radio call to the Selkies, they need to known the second wave is inbound." Maximilien told the comms officer, his mouth felt dry as he said those words, and so probably did the communications officer as he got on the radio.
"Tonnerre to SDFS Sealgaire. The second wave of bogies are incoming, we have Fencer-F jammers amongst them. Looks like they are coming for the coup de grâce. Advice you keep your AOE stood off until we have the threat neutralised."
"And call Sigonella Command. Tell them we need a combat air patrol and AWACS airborne ASAP."
"Yes Sire."

[Wolfenium]

12th of March, 2021

"Papa-Romeo-One to Tonnerre. Copy that. Moving to intercept."

It had been a bad wake-up call for the men and women of 161 Fighter Division. Largely kept out of the fighting within the portal, the Baltlanders' Gripen squadrons had either stayed at home or kept on routine patrols within the various peacekeeping missions abroad. Combat, in all respects, was unheard outside the simulations, which makes their situation all the more problematic.

"Looks like leave is cancelled, boys and girls," radios one of the pilots, his lax tone slightly grating for his commander to listen to, "we got some antiques to swat."

"Kindly refrain from idle chatter, Papa-Romeo-Five," radioed the blonde female commander, her Gripen taking the lead, "you'll drown in the Mediterranean if you don't."

"Acknowledged, m'am," grumbled the redhead boy, scanning his surroundings for the bogeys. Their newly scrambled AWACS plane was still trying to track their movements, but no visual as of yet.

"Papa-Romeo-Seven to Papa-Romeo-One," the radio cracked to life again, this time the lad's wingwoman, "bogeys inbound, 10'O clock."

"Fencers," the flight commander queried, trying to sight the distant planes herself. True enough, the bogeys bore the distinctive swept wing and full green roundels of the target jammers. Gripping her joystick, the commander prepared to make the dive on them. Nothing, as it turned out, was going to compare to the real thing.

Flight commander Greta Olausson and her team was about to face their first test.

[The Selkie]

12th of March, 2021

To say that Vice-Amiral Maximilien Henri Comte de la Venerie, flag officer commanding STANAVFORMED was having a bad day was an understatement of some magnitude. His flagship, BPC Tonnerre had a gaping hole in her starboard side that was in the process of belching black smoke from the funeral pyre of the remains of her medbay. The midsection of the ship was flooded with water from the efforts to contain and seal off the fire and, given how the roof of the command centre haven't caved in yet there was probably a warhead still stuck in the walls of the compartments that were now lost. Just cleaning the compartments out would probably cost a few million francs... all in all a bad day for the French Navy and for NATO.
But the day for Amiral Comte de la Venerie was about to go from bad to worse. Surcouf, who had pulled up alongside to make her pumps and waterhoses available suddenly withdrew them and reversed her engines. They were still headed for Valletta, Malta so the frigate immediately fell backwards. Moments later as Surcouf wheeled about, her deck gun pointing towards where they had come from the duty watch officer on Tonnerre called the bridge with an ominous warning: "Capitaine, we have more bogies inbound, heading 150. Altitude high. Numbers unknown. They have ECM."
Vice-Amiral Maximilien gulped a little as Tonnerre's captain wheeled her around, following Surcouf and bringing the maximum of her defensive armaments to bear. They had not expected a second wave from these as yet unidentified foes missilising them. A clue would soon come from Surcouf when she reported that there were at least one Fencer-F in the bogie formation responsible for jamming their long range search systems, and not very many people on this side of the Mediterranean were known to have Fencer-F's... beyond the Libyans who had recently received a small quantity from ex-Soviet stocks...

"Get a radio call to the Selkies, they need to known the second wave is inbound." Maximilien told the comms officer, his mouth felt dry as he said those words, and so probably did the communications officer as he got on the radio.
"Tonnerre to SDFS Sealgaire. The second wave of bogies are incoming, we have Fencer-F jammers amongst them. Looks like they are coming for the coup de grâce. Advice you keep your AOE stood off until we have the threat neutralised."
"And call Sigonella Command. Tell them we need a combat air patrol and AWACS airborne ASAP."
"Yes Sire."

Sealgaire confirmed and send a messege to Tocht and Acatas - but especially the corvette was one step ahead already, having spotted the inbound flight on radar, including their jamming.
The electronics on the Scoth-class Corvettes of the SDF-Navy were good, but they, too, had slight problems cutting through the interference, both to see, who was coming for a visit, how many they were and thus to conclude how to best receive them.
The SDF's AWACS-Helicopters were not much help either, least of all to the incoming Baltlandic fighters. That was, however, a different story.
Acatas maintained her speed, while Tocht fell back behind the other, smaller ship, which was ready to unleash fire and brimstone into the air at a moment's notice... as soon as they would have a clear lock. Guns and missiles were also ready to intercept enemy ammunition.
If Tonerre was hit and further damaged, it would be a disaster of the highest order. They knew that, everyone knew that.
Now, it was a time for patience, however.
Then, the radar aboard Acatas managed to cut through the interference, not completely, but enough to get a lock for two missiles - carried on pillars of smoke by fire, two Miodóg Short-Range Surface-to-Air Missiles shot into the air from the corvette, Mark Is, both of them - heat-seekers.

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

A patch of the Mediterranean that's about to get very hot

Twelve thousand feet above the churning surface of the Mediterranean, a pair of Sukhoi Su-30SM's of the Libyan Arab Air Force cruised in open formation, spread across real estate at least a kilometre wide. Beneath them two more Su-30SM's followed at wave top heights, and ahead of them by a rough mile, two Fencer-F's with the high powered electronic warfare modules were scouting for them.

Ever since the war ten years ago, when the old Libyan air force was nearly completely annihilated in a single week, the Saidist loyalists has had trouble rebuilding it. After years of corruption, warfare and incompetence, President El-Said finally had a few fighter squadrons worthy of that name, and thanks to wholesale exporting nearly all of their available oil profits to Orussia, they were now equipped with the latests and greatests the cash-strapped Tsardom was willing to sell. Of course, equipping your fighting squadrons with the most expensive toys money could buy meant that the supporting arms of the air force, the transport, early warning and electronic warfare squadrons were relegated to obsolete equipment or even nothing at all. This was the case for their 10^th Reconnaissance Squadron, who flew refurbished hand-me-down Fencer's from Orussia, two of which were now sweeping ahead of the Libyan strike package towards the last position they recorded of Tonnerre.

One and a half hour into their flight, the Libyan Flankers and Fencers descended from their cruising altitude to attack heights and separated from their tight cruising formation. The lower pair of Flankers armed when they were 100 kilometres from their launch points and the upper pair, armed with 1,500 kg guided bombs surged onward with the jammers. They would time it that the bombing pair and missiles would arrive at about the same time.
What they did not expect however were the eight Gripens now diving on the Su-24's that were supposed to help them in. In a mere minute their Fencer-F formation were reduced to burning husks falling towards the ocean below while the high pair of Flankers broke in opposite directions. As they did so they blindly launched four of their medium-range radar-guided missiles, hoping the barrage would scatter the Scandinavian fighters' formation, and then steadied on their new courses to lock whomever they saw up to engage with their remaining air-to-air ordnances.
Before they could accomplish that however, two surprises from the sky above them smacked the Flankers in their mid-sections. Completely unnoticed, thanks to their passive guidance modes, the surface-to-air missiles from SDFS Acatas split both Sukhois apart and sent them on a downward spiralling plunge to their deaths. Four out of the six in the Libyan strike package against STANAVFORMED were now killed, two however, remained.
Sixty kilometres behind the engagement, the two remaining Sukhois that carried the Krypton anti-ship missiles hesitated little as their comrades crashed and burned in the sea, and in a very short moment, eight Vampires ascended to the heavens at supersonic speeds to deal what the Libyans hoped to be the killing blow against the French command ship.

Sixty kilometres ahead, onboard Tonnerre, Vice-Amiral Maximilien and the command staff on his flagship froze for a moment as they detected these eight new threats, which frankly they were in no condition at all to engage, as damaged as they already were. SDFS Acatas will probably engage the missiles themselves, but a corvette had only so much space for anti-air missiles in its magazines and there were eight supersonic targets to destroy. Salvation came... from an actor peculiar to the situation. SMS Erika, Brunhilde-class frigate of the Imperial Karlsland Navy, one of the two Brunhildes recently commissioned and attached to STANAVFORMED zoomed past the Tonnerre at full tilt, with a battle ensign large enough to be seen from the moon flying proudly from her foremast. She slowed herself down in a hard turn to port, showing her entire starboard battery - from the fore 5.25" gun to the aft Type 490 CIWS - to the incoming threat, and then started doling out missiles. She shot down four Kryptons with Scissors and Sea Gungnirs, two with Sea Ceptors, one was killed by Acatas and the last one exploded four kilometres out in a hail of 30 mm rounds from the Type 490. A curt message was then delivered via the UHF to Tonnerre: "SMS Erika to Tonnerre. Targets killed. You are most welcome."

[Allanea]

Free Kingdom Armed Forces Base Trieste

"Pilots! To your aircraft!"

Men and women in flight suits ran across the base mess hall towards the parked planes. Service staff on motorized forklifts sped towards the craft, missiles and fuel tanks rising from their cradles into the bombers' immense stomachs.

They banked over the airbase and turned South, rising and rising, the green fields and red roofs of beautiful Italy soon vanishing under them.

They were slow planes, as far as planes went – it would take them perhaps two hours to be on-station, but it mattered little for their crew. In the cockpits of the enormous bombers, coffee was already being prepared by the navigators and handed out to the rest of the crews – hot, sweet, strong.

The minutes passed, with the bomber crews laughing and telling jokes to pass the time until they were, finally, in range – about five hundred miles from the enemy shore. From there, their weapons launched.

Dozens of decoys flew towards the target, imitating the radar signature of missiles and bombers. These were in their own way dangerous – if they did hit something they'd probably damage it – but really, the task was merely to give enemy air defense more targets.

Following simple, pre-programmed paths, twenty cruise missiles sped near the surface of the water, and towards the Al Abraq International Airport. They had been divided evenly – ten for the aircraft hangars and ten for the runways. The first ten carried unitary warheads – a fancy name for 'one big bomb' – and the other half carried combined-use submunitions.

The enormous bombers banked and turned away. Their return path would take them into the air defense envelope of the nearest allied ships ( who would be, of course, warned about this in advance, to avoid incidents), this for the unlikely eventuality an enemy would decide to give chase.

Meanwhile, a diplomatic message – of a sort – would be released, timed to coincide with the attack.

* * *


[b]Official Message from the Free Kingdom Ambassador to the Holy Romagnan Empire, Ambassador George Petrenko

Greetings!

To keep it absolutely brief:

It appears that the forces of Hosni Muammar El-Said – a large, but not very well-armed, terror group in Eastern Lybia – have attacked a NATO ship. On this matter, while the Free Kingdom of Allanea is not per se a member of NATO, I wish to make the opinion of the Free Kingdom known: we believe Mr. El-Said has no legal or moral legitimacy, and has never had any. What shreds of legitimacy their regime had, it lost a decade ago when it fired artillery at protesters. This recent act of piracy is but another page in their decades-old history of piracy, terrorism, and brutal oppression.

I know that some members of the press are going to inquire very soon whether the Free Kingdom Air Force has fired long-range cruise missiles at the terrorist forces in Libya. The answer is yes. We will also continue to bomb, shoot, and kill terrorists who attack civilized nations and engage in piracy and crimes against sapient kind, and make use of every opportunity to impose on these terrorists the price of the jackal's feast.

That's all really.

The rest of the handling of the situation will be with the Ministry of War and its international liaisons.

[Wolfenium]

Breaking formation as the missiles shot past them, the fighters quickly shook off the pursuing missiles as they tried to reorient themselves. The Fencer-Fs were long gone, while half of the Flankers were down too. The remaining pair were already trying to race back to friendly lines. Those two would be targeted down, and it was Greta's deputy and her wingwoman that was given the task.

Captain Inga was no ace, and even more so for Ulla. There was hardly any time to think as they chased down the fleeing planes ahead of them. The rest were already catching up, but the evasive manouveres had put them farther than the two. As much as their colleague Jan had joked about keeping score, neither was in any mind to, not the least since it meant hitting the sea in a fireball.

"Hold still," Ulla grumbled, as her target tried to shake her off. Attempting to keep a lock on was taxing when the other side had a grave sense of danger. But lock it did, as a pair of LAAMs shot from the duo, heading right for their targets.

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

13^th of March, 2021

By the early morning of the thirteenth of March, on an otherwise splendid day for sailing, with little wind, a shining sun and not a single cloud in sight, Tonnerre, projection and command ship of the Gallian Navy lumbered into the No. 4 dock at Malta, one side of her still belching black, putrid smoke. Maximilien Comte de la Venerie, Vice-Amiral commanding of STANAVFORMED, who had hoisted his flag onboard her watched impassionately from the bridge of Surcouf, having transferred over with most of his staff as they secured Tonnerre and then approached Malta.
They had sustained a wrecked medical bay, the roof of the CIC was slightly warped by the heat, people were dead or formerly injured (and now dead), and oh there was a gaping hole in her starboard side making a very good impression as a window to hell itself. Well at least the fire was only smouldering now, and contained to the former hospital compartment.
As the hurt BPF came to rest on the blocks holding her upright in No. 4 Dock and emergency repairs started, signals were going everywhere around the world, to United States Naval Support Activity Naples, to Headquarters Allied Forces Southern Europe, to NATO in Brussels, and to Paris and Ministère des Armées. The next morning's news would be very interesting indeed, thought Maximilien de la Venerie, as he disembarked in Valletta with his staff, to establish a temporary headquarters in the Royal Naval Base, and to assess the clearly escalating situation.

Indeed, per the Vice-Amiral's expectations the next morning's headline by Le Figaro carried a wide shot of Tonnerre's smouldering hole as she sat in No. 4 Dock, Valletta, and there were at least three dozen different admirals or ministers from at least four separate countries wanting his and the captain's time on the phone. The world now knew that some kind of outrage against Gallia herself has now happened, question remained on how the world will react.

Roughly four hundred nautical miles south-east, next to the Benghazi Road outside Sirte, Second-Lieutenant Louis Gardiner, newly commissioned subaltern of the 1st Battalion, 7th Duke of Edinburgh's Own Gurkha Rifles was walking along the sangars and towers of the FOB they had built over the course of their peacekeeping mission here, chatting with the NCO's and riflemen of his battalion and surveying their defences when a sound like an explosion happened not far outside of their walls. Three minutes later, another explosion happened... about half a click short of their base, and then another, equally wide. Then the shells started falling, not very rapidly, but quick enough to be an annoyance. Help - some of it - arrived in the next few minutes as their locating battery pinpointed the enemy firing positions and their artillery groups returned the shells as best they could.
Then, after some half dozen minutes of what could best be described as an half-hearted artillery opening, BMP-2's of the Libyan Arab Army started advancing towards their little fob, and was just as quickly obliterated by missiles descending from the heavens. By some error in deployment only the leading brigade of the Libyan Arab Army was in a position to attack and the half-hearted artillery support they were getting did not prevent the British infantry battalion from eating their vehicles alive with anti-tank missiles. Roughly an hour into what was supposed to be President El-Said's victorious march onto Tripoli his first battalions that opened this war were falling back in disarray. The British thorn in the Libyans' sides had survived to fight another day and dealt their enemies more than their fair share in losses. Thirteenth of March, 2021 on the newly opened Libyan front ended in a disaster for the Saidists.

[Allanea]

Late at night that same day

The waters of the Mediterranean seemed to boil and part, as an object bobbed onto the surface. In the night, it was almost unnoticeable among the waves, the dark blue of its paint merging into the wine-colored seas. None were present, in any event, to marvel at the device. None would paint its lethal beauty, the barely-noticeable glimmer of moonlight on its lenses, as it stayed just above the waves like the head and neck of a curious, yet predatory beast – and then, a short while later, vanished once again.

The beast was the FKS Odysseus, a missile submarine of the Free Kingdom Navy. It had received its message – a scheduled broadcast, but one that contained information somewhat unlike what the crew had expected. It was no mere routine update on the situation in the region – it was a message of war. Hundreds of megabytes of encrypted information had been offloaded to its computers – everything which the Odysseus needed to steer its weapons to target.

President El-Said imagined he would once again challenge the world unpunished. This would not be so. Already, the Odysseus was descending to a depth of a hundred and fifty feet below the surface, the mast that had connected it to the surface retracting. Men and women on board were moving to their stations, the excitement of their new tasks waking even those who were tired to a newfound alertness.

It was no longer a time for drills, no longer a time for card games in the recreation lounge, no longer boredom and waiting. It was now a time to kill.

In a whirlwind of steam, smoke, and flame, the missiles burst out of the water, and then turned, fanning out towards the Eastern Lybian shore. They steered themselves by satellite navigation, staying low over the waters as they sped towards their targets.

They had been budgeted in a simple way. Fifty of the missiles had been aimed towards port facilities in Saidist-controlled Liybya. Every portal crane had been 'budgeted' at least one missile, and most had been assigned two – more than needed, in truth, but Allaneans were known for both overkill and certainty.

More than half of the submarine's impressive armament had been targeted towards key infrastructure in Saidist-controlled territory – power substations and phone exchanges. The logic was the same as elsewhere – one power substation, two missiles, one a regular unitary warhead, one a submunition warhead. Seven major phone exchanges had been granted the privilege of being targeted with two missiles each.

Forty more weapons had been left in reserve, in the event any elements of the attack failed, or better intelligence would allow targeting of other Saidist assets.

The weapons would take about an hour to reach their targets. And as they sped – over sea, and sometimes over land – forward and forward, phones in every targeted facility began to ring. Caller ID, where present, would reveal the Allanean national code – and whoever picked up heard the same, pre-recorded message, in Arabic.

This is the Allanean Ministry of War speaking. Get out of the building now. This is not a joke or a prank. Get out now. The building will be destroyed. Get out now. Run. This is not a joke. This is a recorded call from the Free Kingdom Ministry of War.

Doubtless some would ignore the message, some would never even pick up the phone, some would consider it a joke. Some would, however, probably get out. They were, after all, dockworkers, telephone technicians, and engineers – there would be no need to kill them all. And besides, the Allaneans wanted them alive, to tell the story of the cold, unfeeling voices in the line, prophesying fire and death.

And fire and death came. The missiles came down with a howl, the half-ton warheads tearing the supports of port cranes apart like a child playing with a sheet of foil, smashing through the roofs of the phone stations. Submunitions rained down into substation switchgear, crackling as they went off, shattering priceless ceramic assemblies, setting hundreds of small fires. Unitary warheads went off in the transformer yards, dislocating power poles like an arm torn out of its socket.

The explosions could be heard for miles away, and thousands were awakened in the pre-dawn hours. Thousands rushed to the phones, seeking out an explanation, or wishing to check on a relative, and found that the lines were dead. Darkness and silence had followed the fire.

[Co-lumbia]

13 March 2021
USS Dwight D. Eisenhower

Rear Admiral Kass Drescher was disturbed from her solitary, solemn morning ritual of breathing in the crisp, salty air of the Med with reports from NATO members and major non-NATO allies about a developing situation just south of Malta. The USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, was quietly swimming at moderate speed near the island of San Pietro (off the coast of Sardinia) with a couple of destroyers, the USS Stout and the USS Truxton, while the rest of the CSG was close to Naples. This small force of ships was steaming south to head back near Naples. The exception to that was the USS San Juan, it was about 20 miles southwest of the Mighty Ike and was to keep an eye out for any small craft that might try and attack whatever shipping was happening in this part of the Med. The USN's CSG-10 was part of the joint NATO-EDA's maritime force, the STANAVFORMED, showing the United States of Columbia's contribution to security in this volatile region.

A frogeater landing ship of a STANAVFORMED task force was hit yesterday by a Libyan air attack. From what the after-action reports that came in were that a flight of four bogies attacked the Tonnerre with about 8 anti-ship missiles, and only one managed to get through. Good job on the part of the Europeans, but this changes things. Drescher felt she will be much busier in the next few weeks. She needed to get on the phone with Vice-Amiral Maximilien soon to reassure Columbian support and to have a united front of the Atlantic powers against this emerging threat to our collective security.

After reading the reports and getting briefed by her chief of staff, Commodore Robert Branson, Drescher made the necessary orders to continue to Naples at the best possible speed and send out a flight of Super Hornets from VFA-131 Wildcats to watch out for any bogies, though any threat being this far away from Libya is unlikely. However, this event also appeared unlikely. Best not to tempt fate with bold declarations, Drescher thought to herself. The various national contingent commanders of the STANAVFORMED in Rome and NATO HQ in Brussels will have to come up with an action plan against the Libyan attack. Something immediate, which is probably being conducted right now by the Allaneans but that will need additional, continuous support. Re-establishing no-fly zones, bombing LAAF airfields and bases, and the like. That is when Mighty Ike will get to shine.

[The Selkie]

13^th of March, 2021

By the early morning of the thirteenth of March, on an otherwise splendid day for sailing, with little wind, a shining sun and not a single cloud in sight, Tonnerre, projection and command ship of the Gallian Navy lumbered into the No. 4 dock at Malta, one side of her still belching black, putrid smoke. Maximilien Comte de la Venerie, Vice-Amiral commanding of STANAVFORMED, who had hoisted his flag onboard her watched impassionately from the bridge of Surcouf, having transferred over with most of his staff as they secured Tonnerre and then approached Malta.
They had sustained a wrecked medical bay, the roof of the CIC was slightly warped by the heat, people were dead or formerly injured (and now dead), and oh there was a gaping hole in her starboard side making a very good impression as a window to hell itself. Well at least the fire was only smouldering now, and contained to the former hospital compartment.
As the hurt BPF came to rest on the blocks holding her upright in No. 4 Dock and emergency repairs started, signals were going everywhere around the world, to United States Naval Support Activity Naples, to Headquarters Allied Forces Southern Europe, to NATO in Brussels, and to Paris and Ministère des Armées. The next morning's news would be very interesting indeed, thought Maximilien de la Venerie, as he disembarked in Valletta with his staff, to establish a temporary headquarters in the Royal Naval Base, and to assess the clearly escalating situation.

Indeed, per the Vice-Amiral's expectations the next morning's headline by Le Figaro carried a wide shot of Tonnerre's smouldering hole as she sat in No. 4 Dock, Valletta, and there were at least three dozen different admirals or ministers from at least four separate countries wanting his and the captain's time on the phone. The world now knew that some kind of outrage against Gallia herself has now happened, question remained on how the world will react.

Roughly four hundred nautical miles south-east, next to the Benghazi Road outside Sirte, Second-Lieutenant Louis Gardiner, newly commissioned subaltern of the 1st Battalion, 7th Duke of Edinburgh's Own Gurkha Rifles was walking along the sangars and towers of the FOB they had built over the course of their peacekeeping mission here, chatting with the NCO's and riflemen of his battalion and surveying their defences when a sound like an explosion happened not far outside of their walls. Three minutes later, another explosion happened... about half a click short of their base, and then another, equally wide. Then the shells started falling, not very rapidly, but quick enough to be an annoyance. Help - some of it - arrived in the next few minutes as their locating battery pinpointed the enemy firing positions and their artillery groups returned the shells as best they could.
Then, after some half dozen minutes of what could best be described as an half-hearted artillery opening, BMP-2's of the Libyan Arab Army started advancing towards their little fob, and was just as quickly obliterated by missiles descending from the heavens. By some error in deployment only the leading brigade of the Libyan Arab Army was in a position to attack and the half-hearted artillery support they were getting did not prevent the British infantry battalion from eating their vehicles alive with anti-tank missiles. Roughly an hour into what was supposed to be President El-Said's victorious march onto Tripoli his first battalions that opened this war were falling back in disarray. The British thorn in the Libyans' sides had survived to fight another day and dealt their enemies more than their fair share in losses. Thirteenth of March, 2021 on the newly opened Libyan front ended in a disaster for the Saidists.

Lieutenant Commander Meave Derfúrchéi of the Tribe of Cavan.
In the air.
It was the 13th by now - yesterday, Tonerre had been successfully defended from the second wave, Acatas scoring a few of the attackers.
Now, after the attack on the Britannian FOB, we had a location of where the artillery battery was. Their counterbattery radar had little issue in locating them, all while they were repelling an attack, to my understanding.
This was, what we had been trained for: The Craiceáilte was designed as air support, a flying tank to support ground forces. We were not for aerial combat, but to support our own ground assets.
To that end, we had 30 mm autocannons, six outer hardpoints and two internal hardpoints. I had my entire flight with me, all six of C-Flight, Air Group, SDFS Sealgaire, approaching the position low.
Thanks to the ducted fans, we were also far less audible. Thanks to flying low, we were hard to see on radar to begin with, not to mention the Craiceáilte having stealth features and two of my flight mates having ECM-pods in their internal weapons bays. The others carried barrel bombs filled with shrapnel.
The outer hardpoints were loaded with ATGMs, unguided rocket pods and additional fuel tanks.
We came in low, anything capable of shooting into the air and larger then a light machine gun feeling our wrath first. Then came the vehicles and lastly, the guns. Vultures around a carcass would not have made such a mess.
Within not even five minutes all was over. The artillery was silent.
We turned and flew back home.
All the way, I thought of Ferris and Siana.

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

FR.: NATO HQ - LUXEMBOURG
TO: HQ AFSOUTH; SHAPE
CC: ALL RELEVANT PARTIES
ATT: TOBRUK_ULTIMATUM.pdf
ENCY: HIGHEST

---

On the morning of the 14th March 2021, we received an ultimatum from the Saidist government in Tobruk, demanding that NATO's "imperialist-colonialist war machine and its concubines" be withdrawn in full from Fezzan and Tripolitania, that reparations be provided to the Tobruk authorities for "841 electric substations, 14 hangars and 1 Fulcrum-A" due to "indiscriminate strategic bombing". We are further asked to "prosecute the imperialist dogs from Allanea for gross vandalism and criminal wrecking", dissolve the Republic of Libya and promise not to meddle in Libyan internal matters again.
We have consigned these absurdities to the paper recycler. From 1200 hours Tripoli time 20210315, pursuant to Article V of the North Atlantic Treaty, the full might of the air, sea and land forces of Our Alliance will be brought to bear on President Hosni Muammar El-Said and his forces until such a time that he presents himself to the International Criminal Court for processing.

In Varietate Concordia

[Allanea]

A cocaine apartment in Liberty-City

The 'apartment' was luxurious – enormous rooms, well-dressed servants, moving to and fro with trays carrying champagne and drugs. Musicians played, the lofty notes of Sokolowsky's Fifth String Quartet rising through the air.

Such a place could only host the finest guests. Mere money could never open the doors of this apartment, and a man who would attempt to gain entrance by simply offering to pay would be laughed at. Oh, to be sure, it was a for-profit institution – but it was invitation only.

That said, Peter Nizhinsky was invited. Even now, he was sitting, relaxed, in a white leather armchair, listening to the Quartet's intricate melody.

"Here is your tray, Grand-Ambassador."

He looked down on the tray – a silver surface, polished to a mirror sheen, on which the drug, pure as snow, lay. The Grand-Ambassador reached for his kit – a smooth, reddish-brown box, in which a golden blade and a slender, thin, golden straw lay. Minutes later, Grand-Ambassador Nizhinsky felt the effects of the drug spread through his body and mind. He felt happier and stronger – not simply physically, but metaphysically, as if he had suddenly become more talented, more important, more crucial…

His phone buzzed.

In his present state, Nizhinsky took no issue with the news of the declaration of war from Lybia. After all, Allanea had already been at war with the Saidists – and this was an opportunity for him to shine. The nation needed him once again.

To the people of Lybia, I, Peter Nizhinsky, bid greeting.

I have good news for you. It has been decided that the Free Kingdom will in fact build for your country electric substations to replace those we have blown up, a phone infrastructure that will be much better than the one that had been torn apart in war and violence. Plans are being drawn up for a multi-faceted plan, to involve multiple coalition governments, agencies, and private entities to rebuild your country's economy, to make it more prosperous than it was before – and more prosperous than any have imagined.

But those news are not good ones for the pirate, Hosni El-Said. Because the new equipment, the economic aid, the reconstruction grants – these will not appear while Hosni El-Said is in power. Nor will there be any apologies, no compensation, no respite for Hosni El-Said or his regime.

The crimes of Abdulrahman El-Said are well-documented – the terrorism, the mass-murder, the slavery and sexual abuse. We know of his rape chambers and his torture basements. We know of his attacks on civilian cargo shipping and on commercial air travel. We know of his backing of criminal and terror groups the world around. We know also that, as his cousin, Hosni has repeated some of those crimes, and plans no doubt to repeat others. Even one of these crimes would have been enough to justify violent rebellion by the people of Libya. Even had the El-Saids been only international terrorists, only torturers and murderers, only slavers and child abusers – this would have been enough for the people of Libya to rise against them in fury and slaughter, and enough to justify foreign intervention.

We often say that a government that abuses human rights and appeals to Westphalian sovereignty is akin to a man that holds torture victims chained up in his basement and then appeals to privacy. But this metaphor is made literal here – Abdurrahman El-Said was literally this man.

Therefore nothing remains to us in terms of respect for the 'rights' of either Abdurrahman, or Hosni. We can no more respect those men than we would respect some mustached pervert with his family chained up in his basement. There will be no discussion save that of El-Said's surrender, which of course I appreciate is unlikely, and a discussion of the ways we will rebuild the country after he is gone.

As for charges of 'criminal wrecking' and 'international terrorism', let me say only this: El-Said's pet attorneys should get their pens out. There's going to be a lot more of that where that came from.

Let me conclude by once again wishing the Lybian people the best of luck in their struggle – and, as always, death to the slaver.

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

Battle of Malta Part One
16.Mar.2021 0530 Local
Southern Italy and Malta
Weather: Clear

Dawn on the 16^th, an otherwise brilliant morning in Grand Harbour, Valletta was somewhat marred by the sight of the entire STAVNAVFORMED alongside its piers, the flagship - Tonnerre in No. 4 Dock and featuring a prominent hole beneath the bridge in her starboard side. Business in the town would resume in a few hours time but right now the only people out and about were military personnel or the usual morning customers consisting of postmen and delivery firms.
If they looked up however they would see that another sort of customers were appearing above them, really high above them, four sets of contrails in finger four formation. Warplanes.

At the Lampedusa and Catania radar stations the Italian operators manning the nightshift detected these intruders coming from the southeast about 20 minutes ago. Their speed was just a tad above mach 2 but their altitude was a whopping 60,000 feet, and there were no inbound traffic today flying all the way up there. A call went to Trapani-Birgi airbase at 0524 local time, and a short while later Catania and Lampedusa went to their action stations to direct the QRA that were now running to their planes.

"Berlin Leader, Catania Radar. Good morning. We have 4 bogies at Angels 60 - Flight Level 600. Bearing from local is 221. We have them at roughly 1,400 knots on the ground. Suspected Foxbats. Identify and destroy please." Finishing briefing the Karlsländers in their heavy interceptors the Catania controller now switched to the Scandinavians coming up from the same airfield:
"Papa Romeo 1 and flight. Catania Radar. Go direct to Malta and standby in case bogies leak through or if surprises appears. Confirm receipt.

[Rupudska]

Battle of Malta Part One
16.Mar.2021 0530 Local
Southern Italy and Malta
Weather: Clear

Dawn on the 16^th, an otherwise brilliant morning in Grand Harbour, Valletta was somewhat marred by the sight of the entire STAVNAVFORMED alongside its piers, the flagship - Tonnerre in No. 4 Dock and featuring a prominent hole beneath the bridge in her starboard side. Business in the town would resume in a few hours time but right now the only people out and about were military personnel or the usual morning customers consisting of postmen and delivery firms.
If they looked up however they would see that another sort of customers were appearing above them, really high above them, four sets of contrails in finger four formation. Warplanes.

At the Lampedusa and Catania radar stations the Italian operators manning the nightshift detected these intruders coming from the southeast about 20 minutes ago. Their speed was just a tad above mach 2 but their altitude was a whopping 60,000 feet, and there were no inbound traffic today flying all the way up there. A call went to Trapani-Birgi airbase at 0524 local time, and a short while later Catania and Lampedusa went to their action stations to direct the QRA that were now running to their planes.

"Berlin Leader, Catania Radar. Good morning. We have 4 bogies at Angels 60 - Flight Level 600. Bearing from local is 221. We have them at roughly 1,400 knots on the ground. Suspected Foxbats. Identify and destroy please." Finishing briefing the Karlsland Witches in their heavy interceptors the Catania controller now switched to the Scandinavians coming up from the same airfield:
"Papa Romeo 1 and flight. Catania Radar. Go direct to Malta and standby in case bogies leak through or if surprises appears. Confirm receipt.

Skies over Malta

It was nothing.

Easiest mission in the world, really.

Foxbats, for their time, were decent enough interceptors. A radar with big honking engines attached and just enough wings to get it up to altitude and back to land. Perfect for the wide, long, empty stretches of airspace along the borders of Orussia, where an interceptor would have miles to go before they slept.

But the Mediterranean had been a mightily crowded place ever since the invention of the square rig, and even the initial production Wyverns had nearly a half-century of aviation technology development on them. The Wyvern could turn in a radius the MiG-25 could barely change its vector in, and in post-stall maneuvers it could change direction inside a particularly large stadium. It could carry more and newer missiles, had a superior gun, and with a Witch in back it could even shrug off gunfire for a time with active shielding.

It was almost too easy, in a way.

<<Berlin Leader to Catania Radar, targets identified as Foxbats. Fox Four, Fox Four.>>

<<Berlin Two, Fox Four, Fox Four.>>

Two Wyverns, four Gungnir Ausf D missiles, and four explosions. The Foxbats had tried to run, even to turn, but few fixed-wing aircraft could avoid a Gungnir, and the Foxbat line was not such an airframe.

<<Berlin Leader to Catania Radar. Targets destroyed.>>

[Allanea]

From: Grand-Ambassador Peter Nizhinsky
To: NATO HQ Luxemburg
CC: All relevant parties
Subject: The future
Dear friends!
It appears that events in Libya are moving on a rapid schedule, and moving towards a resolution which will see El-Said's pirate crews undergo rapid unscheduled disassembly. I do not doubt that in the end-game of our campaign we will see a ground deployment, and ideally a long-term peacekeeping and rebuilding effort. In light of this I would like to discuss several issues which we must prepare to address as soon as possible – I believe we have approximately 2-3 weeks to get the main pieces in place so that we can start deploying them en masse as coalition ground deployments escalate.

Let us go through the issues:

Water: Water shortages are continuously plaguing Libya. Even in the relatively 'stable' era of the original El-Said regime, the country's potable water supply was merely at acceptable levels, while after years of conflict the flow of water to the shores had declined by hundreds of thousands of cubic meters per day. In the short term this must be addressed by military forces and aid crews, deploying field decontamination machinery, pipeline troops, and combat engineers to repair damage and lay down field expedient pipelines to allow temporary delivery of water to the cities. In the intermediate term, combat engineers and aid crews should work with local contractors and farmers to repair the farming irrigation system, and in the long-term, we should civilianize the process of rebuilding Libya's water system by means of cooperation with the future government of the country.

Food: Food supply has been spotty at best in recent years, as a result of economic crisis, violence, infrastructure damage, and a combination of climate change effects and damage to the irrigation system. Qualitative research has confirmed what we've already known from previous intuition, that food insecurity drives people to solutions that in the long term lead to more violence and poverty long before actual hunger sets in – dropping out of education and joining violent groups, switching out healthy foods for less healthy ones, etc. becomes a problem long before people start to literally sell their children (although this, too, occurs where the food insecurity is direst). Food insecurity also exposes individuals to a greater threat of contagious and non-contagious disease.

In the short term, we require a plan for food aid – including a stress on emergency infant nutrition supplies to prevent long-term development harm to hundreds of thousands of children, supplementation of key nutrients for children and adults, as well as economic aid. In the long term, only an abolition of the Saidist regime and an establishment of a government based on security, safety, and at least an acceptable level of rights before the law for all may repair this situation. We must cooperate with an interim Lybian government towards rebuilding Libyan infrastructure.

Disease: The health care system in the country has not been the best even under the previous regime, and is now in a state of absolute collapse. Combined with previous problems this has brought about a resurgence of a range of diseases from the darkest ages of mankind – cholera, typhoid, tuberculosis as well as malaria, long thought extinct in the country, are making a resurgence, alongside less 'exotic' diseases such as hepatitis. Dranculiasis and schistosomiasis, while less lethal, are contributing to the suffering of millions (schistosomiasis, while not lethal, holds back brain development in children, damaging their educational and social changes for years to come and possibly for their entire adult lives if not stopped.

These are issues that are entirely within our power to address early on in the campaign. The Free Kingdom Armed Forces have an institutional experience in setting up field hospitals and vaccination campaigns in numerous conflicts, including our involvement in Qaidi's civil wars and the lifting of the food blockade on September Island, where millions of lives were rescued by Allanean aid troops. Vaccination against typhoid and malaria is available and affordable, and deworming from schistosomiasis literally costs less than a single New Dornalian dollar. We should move rapidly and proactively against contagious diseases just as we are moving against the Saidist, to include airdropping teams of epidemiological intelligence collectors into the country by Week 3 of the conflict, and striking the breeding areas of anopheles mosquitoes directly with the appropriate insecticides.

Slavery, human trafficking, and other human rights abuses: While it would be tempting to imagine these issues would go away once we hang El-Said, Junior, the reality is that the collapse of the social fabric in Libya (for which the El-Saids are largely responsible in their feeble attempts to cling to power, but various Jihadist groups have also contributed) has exposed millions to incredible threats. Armed gangs of various scale (some openly criminal, others labeled as 'Jihad battalions', 'community defense organizations', etc.) have engaged in preying on the displaced and vulnerable, kidnapping and deceiving thousands of Lybians to sell into open slavery, or into covert slavery in various industries. The modus operandi of the various groups varies, from groups that cooperate with so-called 'law enforcement' to groups that promise assistance to displaced persons and then 'divert' them, and down to taxi drivers that will pick up passengers and deliver them to slavers.

We propose a multi-pronged plan to address this. On one end, we should open up legitimate travel opportunities to Libyans, to avoid them falling prey to human traffickers who promise transport. For this purpose, we propose that each coalition member state should commit to accepting at least 100,000 refugees – this would allow us to accommodate a large number. We propose also creating interagency cooperation between aid organizations and refugee assistance groups to collect testimony from refugees about crimes against humanity that they had been victim to, or witnesses to, both to aid the refugees in healing and recovering, and to create operational intelligence to coordinate kinetic operations against human trafficking groups as soon as humanly possible (such efforts already exist in Allanea and cooperation between the Free Kingdom and various European governments does already exist on this subject – I propose expanding and operationalizing this).

Infrastructure: I would be remiss not to mention the obvious – the war started by the Saidists has already damaged a lot of infrastructure in Libya. Partly this will be necessarily addressed by our military operations (as we will of course have to build port, road, and power facilities to operate). However it is the belief of this office that we should provide assistance in reconstruction efforts, particularly in areas where we have had to do damage to infrastructure for operational reasons. In the short term we should have the assistance provided by military aid crews using military equipment such as mobile power plants and construction machinery, and – just as with other issues – a gradual handover to civilian aid groups and civilian authorities should be planned going forward.

I welcome the input of all coalition partners on this subject.

Moreover,
Death to the slaver.

Grand Ambassador Peter Nizhinsky

[Wolfenium]

Battle of Malta Part One
16.Mar.2021 0530 Local
Southern Italy and Malta
Weather: Clear

Dawn on the 16^th, an otherwise brilliant morning in Grand Harbour, Valletta was somewhat marred by the sight of the entire STAVNAVFORMED alongside its piers, the flagship - Tonnerre in No. 4 Dock and featuring a prominent hole beneath the bridge in her starboard side. Business in the town would resume in a few hours time but right now the only people out and about were military personnel or the usual morning customers consisting of postmen and delivery firms.
If they looked up however they would see that another sort of customers were appearing above them, really high above them, four sets of contrails in finger four formation. Warplanes.

At the Lampedusa and Catania radar stations the Italian operators manning the nightshift detected these intruders coming from the southeast about 20 minutes ago. Their speed was just a tad above mach 2 but their altitude was a whopping 60,000 feet, and there were no inbound traffic today flying all the way up there. A call went to Trapani-Birgi airbase at 0524 local time, and a short while later Catania and Lampedusa went to their action stations to direct the QRA that were now running to their planes.

"Berlin Leader, Catania Radar. Good morning. We have 4 bogies at Angels 60 - Flight Level 600. Bearing from local is 221. We have them at roughly 1,400 knots on the ground. Suspected Foxbats. Identify and destroy please." Finishing briefing the Karlsländers in their heavy interceptors the Catania controller now switched to the Scandinavians coming up from the same airfield:
"Papa Romeo 1 and flight. Catania Radar. Go direct to Malta and standby in case bogies leak through or if surprises appears. Confirm receipt.

"Roger that, Catania Radar. Enroute to destination."

Realigning their formation, the flight quickly moved to intercept, scanning their surroundings as they tried to spot the incoming fighters. True enough, their eyes were soon locked to the distant profiles of the MiG-35s. But this would be no easy ambush. The fighters were heading straight for them too.

Launching their first salvo of four missiles, the flight quickly broke up as the MiGs unleashed their own payloads, scattering the fighters as some of the team attempted to shake off the deadly warheads. Ulla herself proved especially nervous, trying to pull away as the warhead aimed for the novice. Nosediving and climbing, she tried to hold her nerve against ejecting off the bat. This was not what the simulations prepared her for, and she was frightened as hell.

"GH! Get off me," she screeched, as the missile continued its relentless charge. She still had chaff left to deflect it. Hopefully, it would be enough.

[Rupudska]

"Roger that, Catania Radar. Enroute to destination."

Realigning their formation, the flight quickly moved to intercept, scanning their surroundings as they tried to spot the incoming fighters. True enough, their eyes were soon locked to the distant profiles of the MiG-35s. But this would be no easy ambush. The fighters were heading straight for them too.

Launching their first salvo of four missiles, the flight quickly broke up as the MiGs unleashed their own payloads, scattering the fighters as some of the team attempted to shake off the deadly warheads. Ulla herself proved especially nervous, trying to pull away as the warhead aimed for the novice. Nosediving and climbing, she tried to hold her nerve against ejecting off the bat. This was not what the simulations prepared her for, and she was frightened as hell.

"GH! Get off me," she screeched, as the missile continued its relentless charge. She still had chaff left to deflect it. Hopefully, it would be enough.

<<Oh for Christ's sake,>> snarled Berlin Leader as she janked her Wyvern around in a hard turn.

In theory, the Gungnir could reach out and smack the MiGs out of the sky even from the distance between the Wyverns and the dogfight taking place. All she'd have to do was turn around, fire, and be on her blessed day. The MiGs wouldn't know what hit 'em until it was too late to do a damn thing about it without blowing through most of their countermeasures.

However, the Gripen could just as easy be hit at that range. The Gungnir was an excellent missile, one of the best in the world, but even it wasn't perfect.

<<C'mon, Berlin Two, we need to close in.>>

Two sets of twin Jaakola turbofans, boosted by magic from the Witch occupying the back seat, thundered across the Mediterranean sky as the Wyverns accelerated to speeds none too far from what the Foxbats they had just shot down were capable of. Within a few minutes, they were in certain kill range for the Gungnirs. Once they were...

<<Fox four!>>

They announced their presence by shooting down every one of the MiGs.

[The Selkie]

Lieutenant Commander Meave Derfúrchéi of the Tribe of Cavan.
SDFS Sealgaire, in the air over the Mediterranean.
While there was an air battle over Malta, we were at sea, patrolling and making sure, that with the evolving conflict, the international merchant shipping through the Mediterranean war more or less undisturbed. With our hand full of ships, that was quite the task, but luckily, the Sealgaire was a carrier, so we had that going for us.
That also included a bit of Water Police Duties, as of course, everyone wanted to bring supplies in, but only one side was allowed to by us.
Hint: It was not El-Said.
Of course he would still try, but right now, that was not on our mind. The freighter SS Selin had not responded to the radio calls of the Frachán, which had taken over traffic control in that area. Our cute little corvette had called the flagship, which had dispatched Spardrí-1 and Spardrí-2, or rather myself and my wingman, Lieutenant Amy Ceoldie of the Tribe of Cavan, as well as Fiadub-6, one of our transport helicopters.
Said helicopter was filled to the brim with men of the Regiment of SDF-Navy Troopers, a whopping fourteen soldiers – one full section of ten men, plus a translator and a mechanic, who must feel quite uncomfortable in his skin.
This was routine. Most likely, the radio was broken or no one was manning it, so that they needed a small wakeup call.
And there she was, in her full five thousand ton heavy glory. She was a utility vessel, a freighter, no one asked it to be pretty, but even among freighters, this one was ugly. It seemed to be in good shape and I saw crew on the deck.
“Good morning, SS Selin, this is Fiadub-6, helicopter of the SDF-Navy and sent to make sure, that you are alright.”, I heard the pilot of Fiadub-6 speak over a public frequency, “Everyone awake? Please respond.”
Silence.
“Hello, SS Selin?”
“Spardrí-1, I'm going to buzz their bridge, maybe they will respond then.”, I spoke into my radio – as said, routine, my wingwoman giving me cover.
I dove to twenty meters over the sea level and approached the bow at around a hundred kilometers per hour, passed by the bow and the freight area (this one was a general cargo vessel, so small cranes lined the sides) and shot past the superstructure and bridge.
That must have woken them up, for people were scrambling over the deck and some were holding...
I pulled the stick to me with force, making my Craiceáilte rear up like a magnificent stallion.
Carried by a plume of smoke and fire, a small rocket shot past where I would have been in a moment.
RPG.
“Spardrí-1, they're shooting at me.”, I reported calmly, trying to get my racing heart under control as small arms fire tried to take me down, too. “That is rude, is what that is...”
“Sealgaire, Spardrí-1. Permission to return fire.”, I heard the order. “Spardrí-2, Fiadub-6, you are free to go in as well.”
“Fiadub-6, ladies first.”, came the helicopter pilot's reply as I deployed my Craiceáilte's Gabha G-116 30mm revolver cannon, which I had under my nose. Using my hands to pilot my craft in erratic dodges left one of these fraggles had another RPG for me, I also used my HUD and eyes to aim the gun.
I had the guy with the RPG, which he was reloading in my sight, an olive-skinned man, who reminded me a bit of a Kyrenaian.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
The G-116 spoke a short sentence.
Within seconds, Amy and I had cleared the deck, punched rather large holes into it, Amy expending a rocket to shut down the engine the old fashioned way. I, meanwhile, went down to the height of the bridge and swept over it once.
No one would steer the Selin any time soon.
Fiadub-6's turn came a moment later, delivering one half of the section to the bow, the other to the roof of the bridge, then taking up a holding pattern. They would sweep the ship, take it over in the name of the Free Lands and take it as our prize.
And, thanks to a declaration of war, she was also our prize of war.
It had something of ages long past, I thought, as I waited in the air for the all clear. It took a while, but when the Sergeant in charge of the section returned to the deck, he looked quite glad.
“Fiadub-6-Amy, all elements – I think we just hit a jackpot.”, he told us.
It would take a few hours until I would find out, that the SS Selin had been loaded with weapons, ammunition and military equipment, first and foremost sixty tanks, all of which now belonged to the SDF as a prize of war – and we would receive a share.
The three surviving crew members, on the other hand, were a different issue. They were now prisoners of war.
All in all, a good day.

---

To: Saidist Government of Libya.

Return Adress: Felicia Sciotóg of the Tribe of Monaghan, Foreign Office, Elder Castle, Fortham, Free Lands of the Selkie.

Monday, 15th of March, 2021.
Diplomatic Correspondence.

Your ultimatum was duly noted and will be ignored.

Signed,
Felicia Sciotóg of the Tribe of Monaghan,
Head of the Foreign Office of the Free Lands of the Selkie.

[Allanea]

There are many disparate beliefs on the nature of war, and on the nature of statehood. On the frontispiece of Leviathan, the state is shown in the shape of a giant, a tyrannous monarch, his flesh the bodies of his myriad subjects, subsumed horrifyingly into his monstrous torso. The word itself had been taken at the time of writing to mean a monster, a dragon-like creature jointed out of the bodies of other beasts. What is clear, however, is that the leviathan is a creature of violence. In his right hand the tyrant wields an unsheathed sword – the emblem of his rule. For centuries after Hobbes, thinkers of every stripe had equated the state with a force of violence – whether they endorsed that violence or not.

The sovereignty of states rests partly on the acceptance of the legitimacy of their rule, and partly on their weapons. In the modern age, the main guarantor of any nation's sovereignty, and especially a tyrannical one, is the air defense system. General-Secretaries, Beloved Presidents, slave-drivers of every stripe know that if they can track and shoot down enemy aircraft, they can strain the patience of civilized countries for decades.

The countries of the coalition were all aware of this, and therefore a conversation was held between them, through encrypted messages, satellite data downloads, and the sharing of satellite photographs and radar scans. Spy satellites – Allanean, Austrian, and others – passed overhead collecting imagery, listening to the output of the enemy's radar.

From the greenish-black depths, the Odysseus ascended. It received two messages. One – that its first mission was a success, and that follow-up launches were not needed on the same targets. Two – that new targets were given.

Those targets were six in number – the enemy's long-range engagement radar transmitters, three for each of the enemy's SAM regiments. Among these, thirty-six missiles were distributed fair and square – six missiles per target. Naturally, nothing was ideal – engine failures could bring some of the engines down, some would be detected and destroyed. But the mathematics, as the Allaneans saw it, were not on the enemy's side. Three cruise missiles with heavy, unitary warheads rode towards each of the targets, carrying half a ton of explosive each. Three more were meant to seed the entire area of the transmitter with hundreds of bomblets. Soon, zirconium casings would begin to shatter, igniting fuel and steel alike, melting sand and turning flesh to ash.

It was time to shatter Leviathan's sword.

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

Corona Navalis
19.Mar.2021 0100 Local
Tobruk
Operation Corona Navalis
Weather: Clear

Three days has now passed since the air battle over Malta, three days since the Imperial Karlsland Luftwaffe and the Royal Baltland Air Force obliterated a Libyan Arab reconnaissance effort on the damaged Tonnerre, three days of being on restless standby status in case El-Said made another attempt to finish what he started.

Two days ago, FKS Odysseus launched its last cruise missiles at Libyan Arab air defences in Benghazi and Tobruk, passing KH-11 Kennens from the American NRO noted that the previously pristine launch sites and radar posts of the two enemy SAM regiments, exemplarily deployed in their fortified positions had now been turned into a disaster zone, with countless pockmarks from submunitions strewn all over the field. In Tobruk a burnt out husk, overturned on its side was all that remained of a Grill Pan missile guidance radar, and in Benghazi parts of a Clam Shell low altitude search radar lay distributed across its former position like a felled tree. All in all, a terrible day for Herr Hosni El-Said and a good one for NATO.

One day ago, the international air traffic at Luqa, Malta were joined by the Tornadoes, Phoenixes and Gyrfalcons of the Grunne-, Mirage Witches, and Barkhorn-Groups. They had been drilling for the past week or so together with the Italian 13^th MAS over and around Lake Balaton for a very specific objective. At several air stations belonging to the Imperial and Royal Monarchy final checks and preparations were made for the same purpose. At sea, Carlo Bergamini, frigate of the Royal Italian Navy surreptitiously joined Sealgaire-Group operating outside Tobruk, carrying a very specific set of passengers.

At 0100 hours local, in the middle of the night, a sonnet picked from one of Shakespeare's works played out across the Italian frigate and over the short-wave across the entire battlegroup. At Luqa, Sicily and other places, officers, men and women of the Imperial and Royal Luftwaffe scrambled to their planes to take off for Tobruk. The operation to seize Hosni's eccentrically shaped yacht had begun.

About an hour later, the assault group still being far away the first participants in this show appeared over the skies of the sleeping Libyan city. Four Witches from the 505^th Mirage Witches crossed the shoreline and started looking for what they came here for - air defences.
"Mirage One to Svetlana One." Mirage One, the detachment commander responsible for ISTAR reported to an orbiting Saab S 120A off the shores. "We're on station. We have one SA-22 Greyhound and one Grill Pan radar on our scopes. Seems they survived the initial barrage. Calling in the Firefalcons."
A few minutes later a tremendous thunderclap struck the Tobruk Airport as a 2000 pound bomb smacked the offending Grill Pan, the sole remaining radar alive in its whole regiment to kingdome come.
"Uh Mirage One to Svetlana One. That... may have woken everybody in Tobruk up." True to form, Mirage One was now seeing human shaped objects scurrying across Tobruk Airport, and towards their parked fighters. "Uh. Svetlana One. Mirage One. We see footmobiles going for the MiG's. Are we cleared to blow up the fighters too over?"
As the radio traffic between her superiors happened, Mirage Two now found herself coordinating the arrival of the assault package.
"Fiadub-6, Mirage Two calling. The SA-22 is a smoking crater. I see footmobiles scrambling to the AA guns. Might need some CAS to clear them out before you land. I have yet to locate the BTR platoon that was supposed to be here." Switching channels, Mirage Two got on the horn to the leader of the Craiceáiltes.
"Spardrí-1. Mirage Two calling. We have footmobiles going for the four sextuple AA guns on the pier and near the target vessel. Can you handle them? Stay on your toes, these things doesn't appear to be jokes."

[Allanea]

From: Grand Ambassador Peter Nizhinsky
To: Allied leadership
Subject: Ring of Steel

Dear friends!

Late last night, I have managed to complete negotiations with President Rasheed Alnour of the Republic of the Niger. As part of these negotiations, I am happy to report that we've agreed to open diplomatic relations between our nations and to begin working together on a series of important issues, and specifically international trade, counter-terrorism, and combating contagious disease. As an initial aid package, $5 million New Dornalian Dollars have been transferred to the government of Niger. A team of contagious disease experts is being prepared to travel to Niger to confer with specialists at the National Hospital in Niamey. My contacts at the Ministry of War are selecting a small number of OAS troops and EMERCOM aircraft crews to commence operations against slaver terrorists and anopheles gambiae concentrations.

It is my belief that it is a strategic objective for all coalition members to organize a ring of anti-terrorist, anti-slaver states surrounding Lybia, to back and reinforce our achievements.

Moreover, death to the slaver.

[The Selkie]

Lieutenant Commander Meave Derfúrchéi of the Tribe of Cavan.
Spardrí-1, in the air near Tobruk.
“Spardrí-1, Mirage-2, we can. Thank you for the heads up.”, I returned to the friendly fightercraft and went a bit lower.
Four sextuple AA-guns, autocannons, most likely – lining the pier, designed for short-range anti-air defence. That was more dangerous then any RPG.
The attack was well underway, Fíadub-6 was in the air again, carrying a commando squad from Italy, which had the mission of capturing the yacht, while a whole lot of aircraft, among them four Craiceáiltes of SDFS Sealgaire, were supporting them. The Yacht was the private boat of of the President El-Said, so capturing it had less of a military function and more of a morale booster for our allies in the Republic of Libya.
But, back to the problem of the day – the AA-guns could make short work of us, if we let them.
If.
There was Tobruk, the first bombs going down. The harbour was directly in front of us. A dark shadow on left was the yacht, moored to a pier.
“Spardrí-3 and 4, you take the ones ashore, 2, the two of us take the ones on the pier.”, I ordered, hearing three confirmations.
A blink and I had heat vision on, seeing the hot spots that were the 'footmobiles' running and manning the AA-guns as we approached so low, that I would have only have to extend the landing gear and I would be creating my own wake.
If they had installed radars, it would most likely be unable to see us on it.
Of course, that had a little impact on whether or not they could see us on radar. Thanks to a jammer carried by Spardrí-3 they couldn't anyway.
One of the guns turned up into the sky, began to spit fire into the air, the other remained silent, which was alright with me.
Spardrí-Flight had, for this mission, a good amount of weaponry: Aside from the standard G-116, we had rocket pods, gun pods with MGHM 2015s, and two pairs of Miodóg Mark IV short-range air-to-air missiles. In the back, I had an additional fuel tank, like everyone else.
The gun pods would speak for me. For Amy most likely, too. What 3 and 4 had in mind...?
“Spardrí-1, Spardrí-2, I take the one in the back, you the one in front.”, I ordered, heard the confirmation, then said: “Beginning attack run.”
I raised my craft slightly, then pressed the trigger for the heavy machine gun pods, my Craiceáilte shook slightly as I spread it all liberally.
The crews of both guns had no chance.
I would only hear from what would happen now in the debriefing, as that was not true for the crews of the other two guns. They turned towards our comrades.
4 reacted quickly, the two rockets from his rocket pods crossing the distance quickly. 3 wasn't as lucky, his shots going wide, the AA-guns replying – his Craiceáilte exploded in the air, the wreck crashing on the pier.
4 had, by then, already turned as the gun was realigning.
His rockets hit.
“Spardrí-1, Mirage-2, targets eliminated, one bird down. No survivor.”, I reported, calmly – there would be time later, “Shall we remain on station?”
While I asked, I used my autocannon to deal with any remaining 'footmobiles'.

[Austria-Bohemia-Hungary]

Corona Navalis
19.Mar.2021 0130 Local
Tobruk
Operation Corona Navalis
Weather: Clear

“Spardrí-1, Mirage-2, targets eliminated, one bird down. No survivor. Shall we remain on station?” cracked through Mirage Two's headset, and she reacted to the news with a frown. The AA guns were killed, true, but they now had a complication.
"Mirage Two, Spardrí One. Bird down confirmed... we saw the explosion on IR. Remain on station and support the assault team if necessary... Mirage Three and Four will be landing to recover whatever remains."
"Grunne Three and Four. Mirage Two calling. Replace Mirage Three and Four on station. Two Taranis drones from No. 7 will take over spotting duties. Mirage Three and Four land and recover Spardrí Three and blow the remains."
"Grunne Three copies."
"Grunne Four copies."
"Mirage Three copies."
"Mirage Four copies."

Backlit by the fires the Firefalcons had caused at the airport and the still burning wreckage of Spardrí Three Mirage Three and Four touched down. Just as they did the rumbling noises of armoured vehicles approached them and they readied weapons... only to have four consecutive explosions go off, leaving four former BTR's burning in the street that lead to the city. High above them, a flight from Barkhorn Strike Group went overhead, drawing dark red contrails across the heavens.

Slinging their rifles, the two Witches left their mounts next to the former Craiceáilte and began working the fire and recovering what they could. Smothering the blaze with a cupola of vacuum generated from magic, they carefully lifted what remains they could from the cockpit and stowed it on Mirage Four's back, Mirage Three putting the flight recorder in her Unit. Their work complete, they lifted off heavily from the crash site. As they did so a single message went to Barkhorn Leader: "Mirage Four to Barkhorn Leader. Site is cleared for destruction. I will laze."
A few moments later, four more streaks of light descended on the pier and turned whatever remained of Spardrí Three into scrap metal.

---

About a dozen miles to the south of the port of Tobruk, lie the grandly named Marshal of Libya President Abdulrahman el-Said Airbase Tobruk, or in common parlance, Tobruk International Airport. Built originally in the early 1940's for the purpose of driving the Neuroi out of Africa, it was transformed in the 1970's by the Libyan Arab Air Force into a airbase modelled after the very best of Soviet standards. That included hardened aircraft shelters that would block out most NATO munitions and keep the assets inside intact. From four of these hardened aircraft shelters on the south end of the airbase now emerged four MiG-35's of the Fourth Republican Fighter Squadron, their eight other comrades, rushing to scramble as the last radar of the local air defence regiment met its grisly end lie burning on the taxiways, struck by those imperialist bombs while trying to fulfil their patriotic duties. With the local radars gone they had no idea that the skies above them were literally filled with unfriendly aircraft.
Thirty thousand feet above them, Salamis Five-Five, the Voyager ground surveillance aircraft assigned to the operation detected the four moving MiG-35's on their taxiways, almost immediately even. They cued the targets to Holstein Two, one of two Greif B.1's assigned to suppressing the airport and surrounding surface-to-air emplacements.
One minute later the lead and tail Fulcrum were skewered by two 250 pound glide bombs and turned into a brilliant cloud of smoke, wreckage and fire. Unfortunately the two clouds of smoke and fire also obscured the view for Holstein Two, and the two final bombs intended for the middle pair dived for the two former Fulcrums.
"Holstein Two to Salamis Five-Five. Two K-Killed, two missed. Request close re-attack, We have lost visuals with targets."
"Salamis Five-Five copies. Will seek close re-attack."
Salamis Five-Five did not have to wait long until they found the ideal flight to accomplish this task... in fact this ideal flight had just arrived at the theatre and was now standing by over the sea, having flown in to replace three from Guards Strike Group 25 of the Imperial and Royal Air Arm that had suffered breakdowns on the eve of battle.
"Salamis Five-Five to Boarhound Leader, Good Evening. We're cueing you for Tobruk Airport. Targets are two stationary Fulcrums between two burning wrecks. IR failed to home. Advise guns."