The Red Wings Rise Again (PMT/MT|IC) [GRAPHIC]

by **Free Terra** » Thu Mar 10, 2022 10:40 pm

9th October, 2075
Centro Medico De Chetumal, Chetumal, ~~Isoposito~~ Mexico

Dr. Frida Bjorklund, a Scandinavian-born doctor swept up in the tide of Free Terran Anarchists and trained as a guerilla warfare specialist, walked the halls of the slowly-refurbishing medical center. Finally she could ditch the fatigues and walk freely along the halls in a white coat as several of her personally-trained surgeons and junior practitioners kept the busy din of activity. The last operating room was finally fixed, there were more beds and gurneys by the week, and thanks to some meagre support from their Northern benefactors, a regular supply of PPE, medications and sterile materials.

For the first sign of modern medicine the civilian populace had been allowed access to for the past 13 years, she ran a tight shop as the "Angel of Chetumal." With the reclamation of the city and the hinterlands being protected by garrisons and militia trained by herself and others that had in turn been trained and armed by Free Terra, the population that still held their deep Catholic, Hispanic roots turned the movement from strict Anarcho-Communism to a more Christian Socialist structure. Still, the religious fervor of her patients and her new assistants held little sway on her, she had a mission to do. That mission overall was saves as many lives as possible. Her side mission was raiding the cabinet of oxycontin to stop the withdrawal she knew was coming.

It was a bad habit she picked up along her travels. After the horrid things she saw in her own home, the eugenics program she'd been forced to prescribe dozens of times before she stole a visa and applied for amnesty, the genocide victims she had to try to save after the Free Terrans found the Chartlottesville Death Camp, all those poor people who were guilty of simply being born with skin darker than beige. Frida took to popping an odd pill of Vicodin or swiping a dose of morphine from the stores to numb herself. Now the habit was manageable and she had a formula to working on the daily victims of this brutalist regime.

That was when she heard rockets screaming into the city center.

9th October, 2075
Av. Laguna Negra, Chetumal, ~~Isoposito~~ Mexico

Rosa was on patrol with two of her most trusted advisors and point-men. There was a tenseness to the air as they patrolled. Rule of law had been restored by her Revolutionary Militia and people could walk the streets freely at most hours. More than once had a sympathizer to Salamanca's backwards regime tried pulling guns on her along these very city streets. But a good leader must also be bold, and keep calm. A real leader helps to make sure those that flock to her are safe and healthy, bandits were not her enemy.

The people had taken to calling her "Mama Medicine" at first because she had Dr. Frida and a good chunk of Terran Taxpayer Money in the form of common antibiotics and painkillers to help around the outskirts of town where she had been born. In truth, her name was Rosa María Lupe Elena Verónica Juan Carlos Romero De León. She remembered leaving for Cuba in '62 to escape her home, her mother and father being raped to death and beheaded respectively when Salamanca's men came to her village by the old Guatemalan Border. She had lied about her age in Cuba to have two years of military service fighting the Salamanca Regime before applying yet again for a visa, this time in the GFRFT. Her service record and volunteer status allowed her easily into the army during the North American Reclamation against Fascists both Yank and Southerner. When she started an interest group to liberate Isposito, the last thing she expected was the husk-like man running S.O.S.T.E.D. inviting her to speak to the President himself. Their promise of aid and support got her here, in the streets of the big city that her father used to get the good candy from as a child. And god-almighty, were those streets in a bad way when she walked them.

It was in this melancholy nostalgia that she was suddenly made aware of screeching rockets and the city air raid sirens. Anti Aircraft batteries erected less than a week ago fired in vain as the first explosions rocked a nearby city block, and the great grey smog filled the streets. Rosa had been prepared for the fascists to finally stoop that low, and affixed her gas mask. As she did, so did her companions. "Mama, signal's dead. Might've hit the radio tower." Carlos responded at her left, distorted by the borderline strangling mask. "We go to the wounded, the general alarm has been called and the others know what to do. We're useless wandering. We take as many of the hurt to the Centro Medico as we can. Then we link up with the forward battalions to engage the fascists that are approaching." The urgency in her voice carried through the suffocating face covering.

10th October, 2075
Café del Rio, Bogota

He read the reports in one of his cold hands while the espresso warmed his other hand, from his proverbial tower of ivory, S.O.S.T.E.D. Director Solomon "Sol" Bright was debating whether his intel could give the President or the Senate any extra time to think. It was clear the reports would make their way to international media within three hours, but he had to consider exactly the impact that biological and chemical agents being used on Communist and Anarchist Insurgents which Free Terra only had the thinnest possible deniability would have. He had personally given those freedom fighters weapons and training that rivaled his own commandos. They seized the port city of Chetumal in a month. They received sufficiency and rule of law in the city after two weeks, and Free Terra's whole economic sphere endorsed and recognized the Mexican Revolutionary Front as a sovereign government. Now they were dying in droves.

Sol began to reminisce on what started this whole mess. The conflict in 2062 was only stopped because Isposito had established a nuclear arsenal. Free Terra could wage a war against all but a nuclear threat thanks to its iron men in power armor, its bleeding edge space advantage, the cyber warfare field... But Isposito had the bomb too. The north half of Mexico had become part of Free Terra over those tense, quiet 13 years. The southern half radicalized under its newly-proclaimed "Huēyi Tlahtoāni," a man previously "Generalissimo Hugo Salamanca," appointed as a Colonel by the Mexican Army before The Shattering that fell deep into esotericism. That man had brought such brutal rule that the most recent census data suggests only 27,000,000 people remain in the realm of "Isposito," a name the Huēyi Tlahtoāni claimed as a transition to the old way, something the spanish-speakers could call the country before nahuatl replaced their tongue to take its place again over all the Mexica. This was the madman in charge of the south. This was the man that Solomon now had to dismantle.

With that lesson over, Sol stood up from his seat in his favorite café abroad. He had a call to make.

10th October, 2075
Solaris City, Cascadia, Free Terra

"~~Colonel~~, er, Director Bright, what's going on? I have a meeting in an hour." President David Alexander, leader of Free Terra and former subordinate of Solomon, spoke to his friend and mentor with all the familiarity and warmth that two special forces comrades could muster. "Dave. We have some shit about to hit a fan you're walking into two hours out. You private?" As the grizzly voice came through the phone's crackly speaker, the president himself saw only his secret service. "Go ahead, Director." Business demanded the formality. "Strange bioweapons and crude chemical weapons being used by OPFOR on the Yucatan. International community will expect a response. I can have all the intel you'll need for a senate emergency hearing in fifteen minutes. We have Terran-Backed, Terran-Funded, Terran-Trained rebels getting sick, so I'd wager a stronger response than finding a new industry to sanction and blockade." The dryness with which his old friend spoke steeled the heart of the now-President. "Anything you can give me. Victor knows how to pitch these things, as much as you disagree with him, and we need support for any military action." David could feel Solomon's skin crawling through the phone. "Goddammit Dave. Fine. Just remember that you need to be the one delivering the congressional address AND brief the senate before they vote on intervention." A brief silence filled the open air between them for only a second. "I've had five years to learn that some things need to be handled personally. Thank you Sol, now get home and get ready to help me orchestrate the start of this if they don't back down and let us help the wounded."

Within twenty minutes, an emergency hearing was called. Some senators and congressmen listening in via mobile device, others by actual hologram scan sitting in technically vacant chairs, no doubt seeing an augmented reality proxy of the President giving his address.

"Friends. Countrymen. I bare grave news from the south. We have actionable intelligence which shows the deployment of both biological and chemical warfare agents against our socialist comrades in Chetumal. The same comrades which, not two months ago, were formally recognized as a sovereign entity by this very senate, by the judicial presidium and by the majority of our own congressional committee. Now these kindred to the mission of our government, those seeking to undo the tyranny of fascism, of ethnic supremacists, and of the avaricious royalty, are being gassed, their food poisoned, their water infested, their homes put to the torch, all within spitting distance of our own customs officials. Three Terran advisors have, according to the reports placed before you, been murdered by the Ispositan state. I beseech ye, senators, to approve my motion to mobilize our armed forces, and additionally beseech for approval to act with impunity in this affair, until the crisis has abated. I plead to all listening not only for our people's safety, not only to protect socialism in all its forms, but to stem the bloodshed unleashed by a fascist mystic and end the terror imposed upon the very Earth by the madman's every insane decree. I ask you, senators, as your elected and ratified representative, to act as my office dictates. To act as commander-in-chief, and to correct this mistake. What say ye?" The speech was delivered as solemnly and as clearly as possible. Some of these senators were revolutionary guard. Men who fought in the water strikes to free themselves of oppression. Those old enough to have fought had great sway in the hodgepodge court that the Free Terran Senate had grown into. Disunited radicals and desperate moderates struggling to have voices heard over the populist din of the political sphere. Yet almost all voted to have the firebrand statesman take the reins of this crisis. Some because they genuinely agreed, some because his approval was higher than their own in their elected districts, some because David Alexander would be the one to bear the blame when it all blew up in his face, and they could focus on more pressing things during such a show.

When all was said and done, 105 votes beat out 45 in the senate. By the end of the congressional vote, 449 votes defeated 52 and all major news networks were showing the footage. Little boys and little girls coughing blood, parents already dead with chemical burns, some still seizing on the floor from neurotoxic compounds. Men covered in burns with guns and gas masks pulling survivors out of hovels billowing grey mist. Later footage showed some of the small fixtures on the outskirts of the city being burned by infantry with molotov or flamethrower, with fighting going into the late hours of the day.

72 hours was the ultimatum that was given to Isposito, with an order to leave Chetumal, cease all military action, disarm the Free Terran border and submit to a Free Terran WMD Investigation, or face military intervention as far as the formal declaration of war.

Objectively, the war was a slaughter without the deployment of WMDs. Naval Supremacy was assured on both the Atlantic and Pacific Sides of Isposito, as well as an industrial capacity eclipsing the rogue power by an order of magnitude, the Free Terran Air Force's several thousand military jets beat out the three-dozen fighters and 50 multirole craft of Isposito as well. The hard fight would be in the mountains where Free Terra's highly mechanized army couldn't simply reduce the enemy to slag. After over a decade of planning and technological progress in strategic defense, even the nuclear threat would be diminished compared to the end of the 2062 conflict. Now the red tide gathered on the shores of the madman-state. How the world might respond was unknown, as North America once again prepared to bleed.

10th October, 2075
Tenochtitlan, Mexica Province, Isposito

"The Americans have given us a notice, sire. They say we have 72 hours to cease our law enforcement action in Chetumal." The man Quetzalcoatl Alxique, formerly Finance Minister Hernando Vargas and head of the Aztec Revanchist Movement under Salamanca, rehearsed. He did not rehearse his delivery out of fear, for he knew Salamanca would not have him killed like the lesser members of the court. Instead, Alxique rehearsed because he knew the blithering old man was going to be drunk in a pile of poor peasant women. Truthfully, Alxique had been swept up in the ideology of Aztec Revival and Blood Purity, but when Salamanca won the war and declared himself the new Huēyi Tlahtoāni, he saw the debauched and cretinous behavior of Salamanca and lost his faith in the man.

The fat king rose in his chair, shaking his desk for a moment as he haphazardly knocked the fixture in his attempt to stand.

“First the freek bastards send communists and anarchists to our shores, give them old yankee guns and rockets to kill my men, then they recognize that shitty little commune as a sovereign entity and give them weapons, food and aid! Now they want me to stop dealing with this pest problem. They want me to give up the most vital port on the Yucatán and surrender my dignity and my country. Just let them walk into our holy land and not paint the flowers red with their blood? Tell them the first Terran tank or plane will be met with nuclear violence, and I’ll gas every last anarchist rebel that dares to hold to Christian mysticism and European traditions. Any so called peace keeper or investigator will have their heart removed the second they set foot in our land. Tell them that, Alxique, tell all of those northern fools!”

The Quetzalcoatl did as he was told. The dispatch was sent to the Free Terran department of foreign affairs. While the language was much more flowery, the message was clear. Isposito would use nuclear force in response to any Free Terran military assets crossing the border. After the chemical bombardment at Chetumal, more than a few tactical nukes would be used to stop the enemy from the north.

The Die is Cast

by **Free Terra** » Thu Mar 17, 2022 9:58 pm

9th October, 2075
Chetumal, ~~Isoposito~~ Mexico

"Over there, set him down over there." Frida had spent the past four hours hurriedly setting up a triage center in the ground floor of the hospital. Those with severe wounds or gas exposure took precedent over first and second degree burn victims as well as those with non-life-threatening cuts and bruises. Those exposed to the gas were worst off, even compared to dismemberments. Some of the survivors were still seizing or needing intubation, other exposed to a caustic agent from the south end of the city had flesh falling like paper mache. Old party officials and disarmed fascists that were at first allowed to live freely in the city occasionally showed up with knife and gunshot wounds. Looting was rampant and the city itself still had the sickly smell of burning propellant and blasted concrete.

Rosa, meanwhile, had been driving with her band of guerillas trying to ensure some measure of order in her frantic search for survivors. Several times she and hers had to dismount, break up a fight or scatter looters in the city. Only once were the vultures willing to fight over it, though no shots were fired. For her trouble, the back of the truck had several survivors in stable condition thanks to the Terran medical surplus. They were heading now to the Centro Medico. Her radio had been sporadically crackling with other resistance leaders. Braun, the resident foreigner, was leading a counterattack with the villages and townships surrounding the city. The Generalissimo's forces had already burned two of the smaller hamlets to the ground before the rocket barrage. The old yankee tanks and armored personnel carriers had enough fuel and ammo to get them to the fight, but winning it would be difficult without air support. Juan, the Cuban exile was focusing on city defense, the radar system was restored and anti-air teams were positioned on the tops of old buildings. Artillery squads had approaches to the city pre-sighted and ready for a possible flanking maneuver. Once the wounded were safe, she'd be joining the civil defense.

She had already won the fight to take Chetumal from the fascists, now all she had to do was keep it. Four days later, and the outer militias had been getting shelled.

13th October, 2075
Forward HQ, Tamaulipas State, Free Terra

S.O.S.T.E.D. Director Sol spoke to all present through a holographic display. The No-Fly Zone and Air Defense Identification Zone extension had been publicly proclaimed the night prior to the ultimatum. Unfortunately the invading forces would be entirely composed of the special forces agency. As such, regular military assets would be strictly fire support and logistics. Gas masks and iodide tablets were issued to every soldier on the frontline, and nuclear safety PSAs had been broadcast across several border towns on the Free Terran side.

"We have both Polaris and PROVIDENCE active in the theater of battle. That means antiballistic support and air coverage wherever we don't have air assets mobilized towards. Eight guns each from Sierra Nevada and South Appalachia Stations, three of five from Baja Station, Puerto Rico's only working gun is ours for this operation. Naval assets in the Pacific can light up the entire coastline, we have less to work with in the Caribbean but cruise missiles and our amphibious craft can make the difference for the Chetumal resistance. Thankfully the enemy doesn't have a nuclear triad. We only have to worry about ground and air launches. Powered Armor Infantry, Mechanized and Armored Divisions are all we can safely deploy due to CBRN risks. Once we have neutralized these threats, regular infantry can move in to hold territorial gains."

Acting Field Marshal Rawad Jules-Pierre, a high ranking S.O.S.T.E.D. agent codenamed "Neptune" ordered the advance at 1430 Pacific Standard Time after the Ultimatum had been expired for three minutes. The cruise missile bombardment and precision satellite strikes first targeted known nuclear depots and silos, followed by airbases and radar installations. The staccato lasted almost fourteen minutes. All seventeen ballistic missile silos had been struck, with five warheads that had managed to launch flying to the frontline. As the enemy weapons streamed into the sky, their trajectory was traced by mobile and static radar emplacements and the PROVIDENCE railgun network fired one shell after another of hypersonic flechette. These rounds, as opposed to anti-asteroid sabot or anti-aircraft high-explosive, were specifically designed to fragment into high velocity clouds of aerodynamic debris for maximum effect per shot. The embarrassment of the 2060s withdrawal had been rectified in a swift stroke, and the massive railguns were kept on standby instead of being loaded with anti-aircraft shells, if any other strategic launches occurred the GFRFT had more interest in stopping a strategic nuclear warhead than a tactical bomb.

The Airforce elements of the GFRFT scrambled to secure aerial supremacy in two theaters as the Navy supported a Pacific coastal bombardment and an Atlantic amphibious landing. Following the engagement of the Ispositan Airforce to intercept possible bombers or attack craft carrying nuclear warheads , the Terran Airforce intended to fly sorties over Chetumal to relieve the siege. Terran Marine elements were due to land on the northern Yucatan within the hour. The general invasion would commence once all enemy aircraft were shot down or grounded, with PROVIDENCE cover over the battlespace to knock out any conventional, nuclear or biochemical ballistic missiles.

13th October, 2075
Outpost Tlaloc, Northern Border, Isposito

Sergeant Cozcatl, taken from his village by the Belizean border at a young age and raised as a child soldier during the start of the Salamanca coup, was not prepared for the general alert several days ago, nor was he prepared to take orders from the Royal Jaguar Warrior Division when they arrived with their leftover Yankee equipment and powered armor. The thick stylized plates covering the bulky exoskeleton underneath showed their strength and power, their resilience in the fight. He remembered how fiercely they fought during the uprising. When tanks and artillery divisions also began to be staged around the outpost in temporary shelter, he was concerned. Not one soldier, let alone any of the religiously or politically appointed officers, would tell him why. Then the bombardment started. Outpost Tlaloc's radar station was struck with a cruise missile as explosions could be heard in the distance, then the skies parted.

As Cozcatl fell, he could barely breathe. He could see only dust and hear only wind and cracking earth. The very ground itself had lifted from beneath his feet to throw him. Then the ammunition reserve inside of the rocky promontory ignited and split the rockface open in fire and deafening, ceaseless sound. Sound so thick it formed a shockwave and threw what remained of the very air in his lungs from him. He wretched and writhed on the ground struggling for his breath. The burns only recognized after he was back onto his feet, he was in sharp stinging pain, the dust thankfully shrouded most of the searing heat from him, but others he saw weren't so lucky. He looked upon the outcropping that once overlooked the base and only saw a smouldering pillar jutting from the crater, like the spear of an angel. The angels that he and all of Isposito were called upon to forsake as European myth. Cozcatl tried to remember his birthname, his Christian name, but there was no time before one of those great warriors was barking at him to grab ammunition from the dead and dying, and to get in position to repel the "Caucasian Horde." Raul. Raul Ximenez, that was his name. He remembered as the sound of jet noise filled the air.

Trying to find Jesus went from a curiosity to a priority once the shells started falling and the Jaguar Warrior next to him was ripped apart by an armor piercing round.

by **Free Terra** » Wed Mar 23, 2022 11:15 pm

13th October, 2075
Chetumal Enclave, ~~Isoposito~~ Mexico

It had been four long, brutal, miserable fucking days before the Terran Army decided to man the fuck up and help the commune. She had received aid from the Venezuelans before the North even thought it was safe to posture against the Isposito regime. Rosa wasn't mad, no, not now. The Terrans, after all, had brought with them a great many boons. Among the boons she received the chief and most principal were the medical supplies and qualified doctors with all of their field hospital equipment and mobile generators to supplement the city. Rosa also, of course, benefitted greatly from the round-the-clock close-air support and offshore bombardment covering the advance of her militias to reoccupy the hinterlands of Chetumal. The Terrans even rebuilt the radar, telecommunications and repaved the airport's runway. Still, these well meaning liberals in their shiny suits and body armor took perhaps too much joy in pushing her fellow revolutionaries around. Making errand boys out of the first in a generation to stand up for themselves against fascists while their fancy first-rate superpower regime protects them from any harm or consequence. There was much to hate about the affair, but nonetheless; it was now the Terran Airforce that was taking fire, and the city, most importantly her armed comrades, could get patched up.

"Get your bags and guns, we're clearing the south end of the front tomorrow, and the truck's axle is still doing that shaking shit so it won't be a clean ride." Rosa told her squad. The move had been decided by a committee between herself, Juan the Cuban, and Braun the German. The lot of them would gather together a battalion-strength group of men with trucks and tractors to haul men and towed artillery to the south to counterattack the Ispositan 9th Army, which the Terrans had been bombing the fuck out of for the past twelve hours straight. She was pretty sure they had called an orbital strike at one point, but she couldn't be sure. "Why the fuck can't the gringos fix it?" Carlos bellyached while he was buttoning his fatigues. "I told them to fuck off when they tried to touch our shit." The very matter-of-fact tone seemed to stun and confuse the men. "And why, pray tell, would you tell the guys with all the gear to fuck off?" He'd stopped at the last button. "Because they're just trying to make us more dependent on them. Juan, Braun and I all spoke about it at the strategy meeting. They're not re-arming us anymore, they're bringing more of their own machinery and equipment in that our boys aren't getting trained to use and the airport is basically a Freek military outpost. It took the crisis relief team from Europe seven hours to be allowed to offload their dehydrated food and water filters." Once again, deer in headlights. "Why would they-" Rosa wasn’t going to entertain a dumb question, not with all of the bullshit on her plate now. "Because the Free Terrans are trying to turn us into a political puppet while they occupy and exploit the rest of the nation. They're not here to help us liberate the country, despite what Juan wants to believe. Hell, even he acknowledged that they've put us on the back burner. Going into Belize and making actual territorial gains is crucial to staying independent of Free Terra after the war. If we can take the clay and get the support of the people then these Liberals won't line us up on a wall once the Generalissimo gets executed." A pall of silence fell over the squad as she very viscerally described their own imminent deaths. It was said like she was telling them the sky was blue or that the swamp was wet. "Alright, Mama, we'll drive out and cap some fascists even if the truck is bumpy. But uh, we need to work on your team-building skills. Yeah?" Rosa was pleased, though she could see how her words could demoralize the group. "Yeah, we'll talk when we get back to the depot."

Centro Medico de Chetumal

Frida, on the other hand, was over the moon. With trained medics and other actual doctors, the death rate from injuries sustained in battle fell dramatically. The Terrans bringing with them large and regular quantities of support materiel was a godsend. There were even construction engineers to patch the holes in the Centro Medico and repair or replace some of the old machines left over from before the rough times. Frida only wondered how much the standard of care had fallen in the time between Mexico's fall and the current engagement over the land. How many must've died in a mere 30 years? Between the nuclear chaos, the collapse of civil order and the rise of an ethno-fascist, the estimated population in the region that was once Mexico had dropped from a hundred and thirty million people to what some reports had read out at thirty million living in Isposito. This land was a land raped of its identity, its faith, and its resources. Even the great giant to the north had in one way or another subjugated this proud people. They had no voice in the annexation nor the diaspora. Suddenly this devoutly Catholic society with cultural traditions so deep they were in each other's veins had the Free Terran 'modern' society force-fed to them, with once-foreign peoples now freely moving into government housing and job creation initiatives, and their children were being taught a secular education far and beyond the depth of knowledge they themselves had before. Generations were divided. In the south, here in what fell under Isposito, terror and banditry ran rampant. The entire way of life was destroyed by an ethnostate chanting war-cries of a long dead, ruthless empire that the peoples had moved past for several hundred years.

All this was too much to think of, so she grabbed one of the doses of morphine she hadn't managed to use in her last amputation when she was on the brink of collapse, and dozed off in a folding chair with the lovely embrace of the substance carrying her into dreamless torpor. One of the militiamen, a man dropping off a few of his comrades whose wounds had become infected, put a linen sheet over her shoulders and placed the needle into one of those red buckets the Terrans set up in the hospital when they first arrived.

27th October, 2075
Free Terran 7th Armada, Coastal Waters of Oaxaca Province, Pacific Ocean

Vice Admiral Joanne Carver was briefed on what the Amphibious Landing Force were asking for, but the anti-ship missiles were located in port towns, where civilian casualties would be at their highest risk. Precision guided munitions would be difficult to deploy without taking air losses from MANPADs and anti-aircraft guns, but there were modern solutions such as hypersonics, cruise missiles, even UAV-guided railguns. Though the fire support itself would be delayed and Marines would be taking more losses than if Naval Aviation providing actual close-air support was suppressing threats as they arose. The landing itself would be lightly opposed once boots were on shore, but the approach would be devastating. If too many hits were taken before disembarking, the landing operation would fail and the landing force stranded.

Ultimately, she approved the UAV-guided railgun bombardment before the deployment of Naval Aviators. It would keep the collateral damage to a minimum. The remote-controlled drones were launched from the carrier's catapults and flew immediately to the coastal town of Salina Cruz, employing their sophisticated equipment first to identify anti-ship missile sites, then to seek radiation sources where surface to air missile batteries and targeting radars were desperately trying to track and shoot down the drones themselves. As they approached ever closer to the town, the first shells fell into the radar guided structures. As they provided thermal data, the gun emplacements opening fire blindly were silenced. Then came the general bombardment with timed-fuse shells firing high-explosives over the tree-line to suppress MANPADs in the jungle. The drones were returning as the regular fighter and fighter-bombers were being launched by catapult. Those aircraft were to provide tactical support while the fleet used local radar data to intercept ballistic missiles for the landing craft.

What Vice Admiral Carver craved most was a cup of coffee. She wondered quietly where that ensign was while she watched the satellite display.

27th October, 2075
Guanajuato Province, Northern Front, Isposito

Sergeant Cozcatl was quite frankly losing his mind. The general retreat he had been following was harassed at every turn by Freek bombers, helicopters and missile barrages. By the time he had arrived in Guanajuato, he had seen a task force from the Huēyi Tlahtoāni's Tezcatlipoca Divisions, great walking machines with missiles and cannons, striding across the front. And he had seen one of their wrecks towed back into the city on a trailer that afternoon. His morale had waivered in this panicked retreat. His brigade commander had chosen Salamanca as the city of no retreat. Cozcatl stalked the sandbagged perimeter checking each rickety outpost for deserters or contraband media. At this point though, there were several things higher on his list than the army losing a squad or two. The Freeks would kill them all come sunrise. The Tezcatlipoca Division in the city had lost five of ten mech suits by now, every time by long range bombardment or aerial assault. Not once would this great enemy fight them fairly, no great assault would come for the common soldier to repel through force of arms, no bombardment from Isposito would go unanswered, but these northerners could lob missile after guided missile into their ranks with no consequence. How dare they? How dare they come here and slaughter everyone in a uniform, leaving nothing but rubble and surely bandits to fill the hole. Even the city itself, that which bore the Huēyi Tlahtoāni's original name, had become restless. People no longer saluted the soldiery that was fighting for them. The peasants and factory workers were blaming the soldiers for this enemy's cruel bombing.

But Cozcatl had no reason to burden himself with so many emotions on the matter. Cozcatl was a good soldier. Cozcatl killed bandits and anarchists, and he was no coward. Raul Ximenez, on the other hand, had seen more death and killing in the past two weeks than even that great orgy of blood he had been compelled to join in his youth. In the somber monotony, Raul found himself humming a tune. A tune he didn't recognize, for he had long forgotten the words. A lullaby, it hit him like thunder. It was a lullaby from his mother, she said it was a prayer. A prayer to Jesus. To God. Why oh why could he not remember the words? Why does he still feel an attachment to this past, he wondered. Why further still, did he embrace the path that led him to hiding like a rat in a town he never cared about, cowering from bombs that would never stop coming?

He continued this inner dialogue until he was past his last checkpoint, having made a circuit around the fortifications. He would be allowed to rest in the morning. He would have time to think, he was barely conscious of himself right now, barely understanding who or what he was. All would be answered in that umbral haven.
Then the raid siren started up again, and the radio at his hip crackled with life. "They're coming from the northwest and northeast! To your positions!" And he would now not be allowed to rest. He could not think. Only one question broke the static mass of his mind. He knew he was alone in this alleyway for the moment, so he asked it aloud, as if asking it personally.

"Why, God? Why?"

by **Free Terra** » Thu Apr 07, 2022 10:44 pm

11th November, 2075
Chetumal Enclave, ~~Isoposito~~ Mexico

"Rosa what the hell is this?" Frida eloquently inquired as to the pile of documents sitting on her desk. "Dunno, the Freeks told me it was in some Scandinavian talk though, so you get to read it to me." A migraine suddenly overtook the world-weary doctor. "Why not have them translate?" Considering the Svenska on the front said 'Results of Testing on Humanoid Targets,' Frida wasn't sure she wanted to read the files. "Oh, that's because I'd rather let the damn feds choke and die on human shit than give them something they could use against us." Ah, there it was, Rosa's famous paranoia. Once again.

"Fine, let me take a look. The title is talking about testing on humanoids, though how much that's painted by racism is debatable considering the state I left home in." Frida opened the packet and saw the name at the top. Gudrun Rosalind. Her colleague, top of the class. Went into virology and toxicology. "Oh shit." Frida said frankly, as the pages began to describe in detail the life cycle of monarch butterflies and reference several viral hemorrhagic fevers. "Oh. Shit. Rosa where did you find this?" It took her but a moment to respond. "Forward scouts to the north linked up with the feds. We found that at the Autonomous University of Yucatan, it was one of maybe three things that were nicely packaged and rubble-free, it was in a crate that was gonna get shipped off to Xalapa." As she read the reports further, going into the effects of mutagenic agents applied to the scales of monarch butterflies, Frida wondered aloud. "What the hell is in Xalapa?"

"Oh, flowers, mostly, it was getting shipped off to some bug university I think." The realization clicked with the force of a brick wall in an earthquake. "We have to tell the Terrans or a lot of people are gonna fucking die."

10th November, 2075
Outskirts of Oaxaca, Oaxaca Province, Occupied Isposito

*Snap, Voom, Snap, Voom, Snap, Voom, Pop, Pop, Pop*

The sound of repeated railgun fire from the coastal ships into the city was dreadfully dull for Private Gupta, his head throbbed from the endless pounding sound, every few hours his sergeant, a great two-meter wall of a man, would relay that they could advance to the next rally point, but the creeping barrage essentially removed any chance of counterattack. His sergeant always seemed proud, almost gleeful as they passed the bombed out trucks and fallen soldiers. "Sergeant, why do you smile at the death?" Private Gupta asked, having had a reverence for life ingrained into him when he was little thanks to his father's hardline Sikhism. "Simple, I fought in the last war. I was a private like you, and I saw what they did to a man I loved when we got out of bootcamp. The way they butchered him makes me imagine every one of these pukes as the maniacs that took him that night." Something that Private Gupta honestly didn't expect from such a hardass was a tale of fraternization. "They killed your lover?" The sergeant grimly nodded. "They took him from me, so whenever we pass one of their dead, I like to think of someone on the other side finally getting to go through what I did."

"Wow, Sarge, that's grim." Private Gupta had less than a second to think before a loud yell reminded him why he wasn't supposed to call a sergeant 'Sarge.'

12th November, 2075
Salamanca, Guanajuato Province, Northern Front, Isposito

It was a stained, pale sun that Raul woke up under. They had been shelling the city for weeks and the drones, old yankee fighters and attack craft that the Terrans slapped remote controls into, had made mincemeat of the Tezcatlipoca Divisions. In the night, the Terran FALKEN fighters were the stuff of nightmares. Jet noise was a constant fixture in the city by now, so nobody would be wary of it before a fuel-air bomb robbed the nearest several blocks of all breathable air and flattening everything in the blast zone. Their stealth made them untouchable by missile attacks and their radiation-seeking allowed them to line up high power lasers from far away, which would blow up the SAM Launchers using their own missiles.

Any time the Ispositan Army decided to launch missiles or utilize rocket artillery to get some payback, the Free Terran railguns provided counterbattery fire, even snipping the missiles in flight, while their CIWS emplacements destroyed the rockets before they even got close. The Huēyi Tlahtoāni had sent him here, sent Raul and every man, woman and child left in Isposito to die in his stead. The Free Terrans had encircled the city and turned it into one massive sacrificial altar on behalf the Huēyi Tlahtoāni, like his pagan religion asks, this is the sacrifice to make these gods in the heavens above have pity.

Today, there was a call to the west of the city, the Freeks had finally advanced with tanks and supporting infantry, finally, the army would have something they could shoot at face-to-face. For the first time since the war started, this rifle of his that had mud, ash and his friends' blood smeared onto it could be fired.

As the enemy approached, Raul was fortunate enough to be put into the second phaseline, the Free Terran Liberator tanks ploughed through the ramshackle defenses at the first phaseline and blew down the outer concrete bunkers with their high-velocity rounds. It was around that time that once more, the terrible thump of an orbital strike hit the ground some several hundred meters behind him, back towards the third phaseline, just as the call over the radio came in that the north side of the city was being assaulted by airborne troops. He was trapped. The tanks flew past his position as the fire teams around him opened fire with black-tipped rounds and rockets. The counterbattery fire slaughtered everyone dumb enough to fire their outdated rockets at the Liberator tanks. Raul stood up after a few moments, those around him scrambling to get their bearings and refocus their fire onto the advancing infantry. The advancing Free Terrans, some in their leathery-looking newer powered armor, some looking like the Royal Jaguars would've with twenty years of progress, sprinted at superhuman speeds into the battlezone. Firing madly at the Terrans, his comrades fell one by one, Raul decided that would be his chance to run. And he ran. Someone grabbed his shoulder, a younger lad with a look of rage calling him a traitor. That look of rage was frozen on his face when he caught a Terran bullet through the temple. Raul didn't have time to think, he just kept running. Sometimes he would turn while striding and fire wildly. He slipped on something during one of those and fell into a ditch before passing out.

by **Free Terra** » Sun Aug 14, 2022 8:42 pm

20th November, 2075
Chetumal Enclave, ~~Isoposito~~ Mexico

"Listen, I know that it sounds stupid, but we have documents from the Autonomous University of Yucatan. Doctor Gudrun Rosalind has been working with the enemy on a biological warfare agent. There's a program being run by the Isposito Regime trying to use Monarch Butterflies on migration to spread a this agent. We need to seize the floral fields in Xalapa, and contain the mutagen. If we don't, it is very likely that some sort of viral agent will be spread through their scales. If we-" The phone cut at that time, as did power in the Centro Medico. The distant explosions confirmed that the rocket barrage hit the substation again. Braun would be rushing to ensure power was back, Juan would be mobilizing firefighters, and Frida was, despite that, immediately furious. "SON OF A FUCKING WHORE!" She yelled, slamming the phone into its cradle hard enough to shatter the plastic cover. She grabbed her satphone and tried to get a line back to Free Terran Caribbean Command. "Pick up, pick up..."

Elsewehere...

"Fucking hell, where's the counterbattery fire, Freeks?" Rosa complained loudly as her squad patrolled the outskirts of the city. The Free Terrans had been regularly flying in supplies at the airport, and any time the Ispositan rockets would always be intercepted and counterbatteries would seek and destroy the attacking forces. She wheeled her truck back around to begin running wounded to the Centro Medico. She could hear the radio broadcasts from Braun mad-dogging the Terrans trying to get emergency services to the power station. Apparently it was another gas rocket, which means that they need hazmat soldiers.

20th November, 2075
Outskirts of Oaxaca, Oaxaca Province, Occupied Isposito

The Ispositan counterattack struck hard last week, and the regular shelling has halted all progress. The fanatics had hidden rockets and artillery guns in the mountain valleys beyond the coast, and helicopters, easy as they are to knock out of the sky, have been regularly striking from hidden launch pads for pop-up attacks on Free Terran advancements. Gupta was tired, too tired. Sergeant Hillman was on point as they walked through the valley looking for teams with MANPADs. "This is unreal. Where was this backbone when we landed?" Gupta asked to nobody. "Quiet, Private. I'd like to avoid a shootout that we didn't start." Dutiful as always, Gupta kept his head down and continued following the Sergeant. Two other green recruits came up as the rearguard. They had joined up two days ago after a helicopter opened up with guns shredding the last two. The Navy had shot it out of the sky with a railgun, but the damage was already done.

They heard a couple guys speaking Nahuatl in the clearing ahead, as they approached, Hillman lost his shit. "EAT LEAD YOU FUCKING PAGAN PUKES!" He yelled, firing madly as Gupta dropped into a shooting posture, providing cover. "Support, support!" He called for the other two. The staccato surely wouldn't go unheard to any other Ispositans in the valley, and Gupta was scared of what hell they'd just called to themselves.

20th November, 2075
Salamanca, Guanajuato Province, Isposito

Raul awoke in an alley as the Liberator tank drove past. "Shit." He said, rolling over and stumbling out of the roadside, heading into the door on his right. The building had been abandonded since the fighting reached this section of the city. He'd stashed his gun in the dumpster, and kept his service pistol hidden. Raul had torn his uniform shirt to ribbons with his combat knife the day Salamanca fell. Since then he'd been looting alongside the Terrans and dodging their patrols. He'd found a mini-fridge behind one of the office cubicles in the building, and helped himself to the rich tequila that someone had surely paid well for. Between that, the broken vending machine and the long-dead water cooler, Raul had enough food, water, and distraction to hide and think.

Just as he'd been musing on what to do, the most blinding flash could be seen from the distance, south of the offices somewhere. "What the fuck-" Raul was on the floor, his ears ringing again, the windows smashed and dust filling the room.

20th November, 2075
Solaris City, Cascadia, Free Terra

"Friends and Countrymen. Brothers, Sisters. I make this announcement with a heavy heart." The President spoke calmly, and somberly to the assembled members of congress and the senate. The announcement was being broadcast on every public access channel. Social media had already beaten him to it. Isposito had smuggled a nuke into the city of Salamanca, and detonated in behind Terran lines.
"At approximately Eight-Thirty in the Morning, Pacific Standard Time, the Ispositan regime have detonated a nuclear device on our military elements in the city of Salamanca. Much of the city was destroyed, and currently the death toll stands at Thirty-Seven Thousand Free Terran personnel. The civilian casualties are estimated at Seventy-Two Thousand, with specific counting difficult to verify in the confusion. That's One-Hundred Thousand dead, at least. I promise to you, people of this country, that a swift and decisive end to the conflict is at hand, and that justice will come to the madmen responsible for this attack. I make this statement to you and to the world at large. The war has been expanded. I am invoking our constitutional clause for emergency powers. Already we have deep strikes planned and under execution to destroy the regime of Isposito. The Red Wings Rise Again, and we will blot out the sun, we will descend upon the vile foe. We will end this."

by **Free Terra** » Mon Jan 30, 2023 2:10 pm

23rd December, 2075
Chetumal Enclave, ~~Isoposito~~ Mexico

The Terran amphibious assault on the Xalapa Province was a success, fighting soon to reach the troublesome flower fields. The Gulf Invasion having combined with the Oaxaca offensive, the Isposito Regime had been encircled on the Yucatán. The fighting for Rosa and Frida became easier, but the Freeks were calling too many shots for Rosa to feel comfortable, even though her anarchist experiment was totally untouched by Free Terran military oversight. The old Yanqui equipment had been supplemented with Terran intelligence and electronic warfare systems. No up to date tanks or aircraft though, only old Yanqui or Russian aircraft donated by observers.

Frida was at work in the Centro Medico, finally having enough CBRN equipment to save lives, the irony came in that the chemical weapon platforms had all been silenced by air strikes. Terran railgun coverage from Puerto Rico and Baja removed the follow-up ballistic missiles that likely would flattened Chetumal.

Rosa had a tough decision to make. Juan wanted to start referendums for independence, Braun wanted to kick the Freeks out and start tearing down the Catholic framework the community had rallied behind, to start a Mexican cultural revolution. Frida just wanted the violence to end, and Rosa wanted a drink. She, however, was the de facto leader of the commune. After all, she was the one to start the fight against the fascists.

“Get me the Free Terran President. And that smiling devil Solomon.”

23rd December, 2075
Outskirts of Xalapa, Xalapa Province, Occupied Isposito

The incendiary bombardment of the flower fields was difficult to perform, the Ispositans had built chemical stockpiles around that could cause terrible effects to allied troops downwind if burned. First, the powered armor infantry would have to clear or neutralize the hazardous materials from the blast zone, and only the powered armor would be approved due to their CBRN design requirements. The biological agent in the butterflies was very long lasting and had incredible estimated virulence.

The FTCDC had been working through the past month with the Department of Agriculture to try catching all of the flights from this year’s migration. Still, some villages or towns would break out with horrific symptoms, Hemorrhagic Fever and Bursting Cysts, as well as the usual coughing and sneezing. In areas that couldn’t get help quickly, the mortality rate approached 90%, with more developed towns and fast response teams bringing the urban fatalities down to 50%. It was estimated that some 13% of flights weren’t intercepted properly, and so antiviral drugs and emergency approved vaccines were distributed along the west coast, the actual damage couldn’t be determined until after the war, but if Frida hadn’t told the Free Terran government, the deaths would number in the millions.

In Xalapa, soldiers couldn’t take more than an orange damage rating in a firefight, otherwise they’d be considered compromised and would need to be decontaminated and taken out of the fight until medical personnel were sure they wouldn’t develop any symptoms. A process that could take days. At one point High Command wanted to leave the flower fields and call in a tactical nuclear strike, but the ecological damage to both pollinators and plants couldn’t be quantified, before or after the strike.

The slow work continued to decontaminate the fields.

23rd December,
Tenochtitlan, Mexica Province , Isposito

The first missiles and guided bombs struck the palace no fewer than thirteen times. The Huēyi Tlahtoāni had been evacuated to the underground complex with the last five nuclear devices. Two bombs, three missiles, all armed. When the rest of the bombardment destroyed the grand army headquarters and leveled the anti aircraft emplacements around the city center, he was told to stay in this bunker with his Jaguar Battalion, now thoroughly disarmed of their large mechs and powered armor. The commoners, damn them all, had risen up to seize the radio stations and police barracks to take control of the city and surrender to the Free Terrans. Even now, the army was barely holding what was left of the palace above ground and the airport was taken by Free Terran airborne troops.

“Alxique, send the bombs by rail to the edges of the caldera. Take my son and that miserable whore of a spymaster to Peru, you have Rosalind’s Information, use that to buy that sniveling coward’s support.”

The ‘miserable whore’ was Vera Gonzalez, third appointed spymaster after her predecessors saw a horrible end when the Free Terran S.O.S.T.E.D. outmatched them. She had also been forced to ‘entertain’ her superior during her first failure to match said Free Terran intelligence.

She’d attached Global Positioning Systems to each of the nuclear devices when Alxique was deliberating strategy. If she pressed the button at her cuff, they’d be activated and the Free Terrans would see the weapons. Sol told her that penetrating bombs and kinetic strikes would be ready.

*click*

Providence 1-1, Low Orbit

Code: Select all: COORDINATES VERIFIED. CALCULATE TRAJECTORY… TRAJECTORY CALCULATED! CALIBRATE GYROSCOPES… CALIBRATED! COOLANT INJECTION… COOLANT 100% SELECT PAYLOAD: CONVENTIONAL HIGH IMPACT PENETRATING SELECTION VERIFIED COORDINATE CHECK VERIFIED, STATIC TARGETS (3), MOBILE TARGETS (2) VELOCITY (NOT) DYNAMIC, ADJUST TRAJECTORIES FIRING FOR EFFECT

The explosions that rocked the Ispositan Capital caused residual earthquakes as 25-meter deep gashes were carved into the ground. It was reported that the complex began to sink in on itself and casualties turned from countable to guesswork.

Vera Gonzalez wouldn’t make it, having been shot by Alxique in a maintenance shaft. The Huēyi Tlahtoāni was presumed dead, whether the kinetic bombardment took him or the if he’d deem shot with the rest of the evacuating soldiers from the underground facility was unknown, nobody could find Alxique or the Son of the Huēyi Tlatoāni in the confusion.

By January, a public statement would need to be made by the President. The war, or at least, the organized war, was ending.

by **Weltkria** » Fri Feb 17, 2023 8:07 pm

THE SOLDIERS
CHAPTER 1 | ARC 1 "THE SOLDIERS"

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

KKO-224 “Innovation” silently moved ahead in the dark vacuum of space, the distant sparkles of a nuclear engine filling space. The distinct silhouettes of weapon and defensive satellites filled space as the ship proceeded on its mission. There were no Weltkrians nor Nacenians here - no, it was just them.

“Helm, 2G burn, 5 minutes. Bring us over target area 2-0 and eject the microsats, over.” The staticky voice filtered through their headsets, the spacers nodding as the ship started to speed up. No atmosphere was present, they were tethered to wide oxygen tanks. Captain Davies silently watched the distant blue marble crawl ever closer as the ship screamed over their target area.

Radiators shined a bright hue of red as hundreds of microsats were ejected, driving towards a single nation - Isposito.

Capital Hill
Office of the Chief Representative

There was silence throughout the room. The impassioned voices had all died down.

Shock reigned supreme. The first use of chemical weapons since the Naceni War was not a act of sheer desperation, no. It was a act of brutality. Of a desperate dictatorship clinging to any form of legitimacy, through any means necessary.

Sighing, Representative Orif looked on at the scattered politicians. The media had been going utterly haywire for the last few days, crying bloody murder at the hundreds of warcrimes committed by the “aztecs.” They would have popular support in both the Elecet and the Arsteller.

The only thing that remained was to surge assets. He leveled a look at his defense minister.

“What can you scramble?”

Sighing, he started.
“Carrier Group Liberty is currently patrolling near the area, they can be on-station within a few hours. Expeditionary Group “Fox” is outfitting for now, they’ll be up by the end of the week.”

“ELINT aircraft and bombers are awaiting orders for takeoff. Only thing now is to wait for the results.”

A single beep filled the room as the results of the emergency vote was clear - it had passed.

A loud klaxon pierced the air as the pilots ran to their bombers and aircraft, flicking switch after switch as they warmed up their aircraft. The distinctive *pops* of explosive cartridges filled the air as pilots initiated emergency startups, gunning to get off the ground as fast as possible.

HB-228 roared to life as her crew ran to their stations, manning stations and settling into their seats. Lieutenant Daniel James finished final checks as ATC filtered through the radio, disclosing takeoff positions to each pilot.

“Charlie 2-8, initiate rapid takeoff. We are currently assuming threat posture Alpha, CBRN attack may occur at any time.

2 aircraft may take off at each time. Make it quick.”

Afterburners roared to life as each aircraft gunned it, rushing to get away from the airfield as fast as possible. EAMs played over each console as the bomber crews received their objectives 12 hours away. Residents were roused from their sleep by the ever-distintinctive roar of heavy bombers.

Below them, Marines were making their final preparations for war. Below them, a carrier group sped to life.

They would be the first shot, the first into the breach. Each man knew the score, the objective.

It was time to fight.

The Red Wings Rise Again (PMT/MT|IC) [GRAPHIC]

The Red Wings Rise Again (PMT/MT|IC) [GRAPHIC]

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