Operation Clean Slate [IC, Closed]

[Cannidarsa]

Headquarters Cannidarsan Defense Force, South Pisky, Cannidarsan SFR
0530, 12 October 2022

---

Lieutenant Kathryn Kass of the Aerospace Defense Force stood nervously in front of the projected slide on the screen, holding a laser pointer and the controller for the projector. "Right. If you would all please follow along with the papers we provided, we'll get this started." She clicked the button and the slide changed to a photograph of ill-equipped soldiers, clad only in steel helmets and camouflage uniforms. "The Syikenian soldier. We got this photo from one of our people, a disgruntled conscript NCO. These are soldiers being deployed into what they call 'The Badlands' in Syike." She shook her head. "Sadly, they've got the situation locked down there. This is the only photograph of their guys on a deployment that we have. They only release the photos of them looking pretty on parade-." She was interrupted by Commodore Mikhail Bondarenko of the Fleet. "So, what exactly IS the situation, Lieutenant? Why do we care about a picture of some conscripted teenagers?" She clicked to the next slide, an aerial photograph of Vasil Island. "If you'd allow me to continue, Comrade Commodore." She circled what appeared to be clouds of smoke drifting from the port of Umniati. "It looks like they had a major accident, attack, something... Here, at their main port. We built it, as you know." She circled another spot. "Here, there are what look like some tanks dug in at the entrance of the port. Really beefing up security, looks like." She clicked to the next slide, a grainy image of a ship in the port appearing completely burned. "This is one of our merchant ships, the SS Tama Transporter. She was transporting automobiles for sale to the islanders". The Commodore leaned forward in his seat. "Why haven't I heard about this?" She clicked to the next slide, a photo of a squad of troops in the port clearing a building. "Because nobody has. They haven't even contacted our embassy with information about our own ship. Nothing in the news, either. Now, these guys." She circled a soldier. "These guys are special forces. Elite troops with good equipment. These guys are as good as ours, I'm told. Maybe even better. Our friends in Fjorda know a few things about them." The President stood, his aid by his side. "I think we've seen enough, Lieutenant. It's clear to me that something's going on there, worse than we knew. Now Cannidarsan citizens are involved, and that's all the information we needed. Come along with me, all of you." Everyone in the room stood as the Lieutenant looked on, bewildered. "Let's go, Lieutenant. We're going to all have breakfast." The President exited the darkened room, turning down the hallway with the group in tow. He continued walking as guards opened the door for the group, until they were outside. "Meet me at that little cafe on Muller street." He opened the passenger door of his car, gesturing to his aid. "Mister Jenkins, after you." Jenkins sat in the little car, fastening his seatbelt as the President walked around, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the car. "Jenkins, I know I don't need to tell you, but this could be bad." Jenkins nodded thoughtfully. "I think you're right, Henri. We'll talk about it over coffee." The other members of the group were making their way to their cars as the President pulled off in his own, entering the heavy traffic of the early morning workers in South Pisky.

[Fjorda]

FFS Leyta, moored at pier 6, Port of Umniati, Vasil Island
0000, 11 October 2022

---

It was another long night moored up on a foreign shore. Cinderella liberty had expired on board for all hands just an hour prior, some sailors being carried to their racks, so no alcohol related incidents occurred. The less paperwork that would have to be filed, the better it looked to the Big Navy back in Belsen, or heaven forbid the report gets routed to New Hytheway because it isn't deemed important enough to handle immediately. The growing bureaucracy of the Union seemed to slow a lot of things down, and it was always an ever-present complaint from the bottom of the enlisted to the top of the Admiralty.

Sergei Richter checked his phone, noting the time and attempted to make a phone call. Nothing went through and he looked to see he had no signal. He sighed, maybe his mom had forgotten to reactivate his phone before they pulled into port. He shook his head, "No, that can't be right..." He walked over to the airlock to enter the skin of the ship, heading quickly to his forward shop to hop on his workstation. The internet on the boat was slow, but it was serviceable or so Sergei thought. Logging into the network, no outside connection appeared. The intranet was stable and secure, so Sergei picked up his interior voice communication handset and dialed four digits.

"Go for radio," said the tired voice on the other end. Sergei explained the situation and the technician on the other end listened without saying anything for a time. "Yeah man, we got message traffic on the dot at midnight, it's probably that we are in a deadspot right now for satellite coverage, it's no big deal." Sergei sighed, he wished to talk to his girlfriend, and he thanked the other voice on the line for their help. Hanging the handset on the receiver, Richter held his head in his hands in defeat. A rumbling rocked the ship, it wasn't hurricane season but it was monsoon season so the ocean waves were a bit choppy at almost all times, except this time it felt different to Sergei.

The shrillness of the intercom system perpetuated the entirety of the workshop, it was after 2200, so either someone had accidentally activated it or something was up. The answer was clear shortly after the thought had entered his mind. A rapid clang of bells was heard followed by a frantic voice on the intercom system. "FORCE PROTECTION ALERT, FORCE PROTECTION ALERT. REASON FOR FORCE PROTECTION ALERT, EXPLOSION OFF SHIP. ALL HANDS, PREPARE FOR EMERGENCY DEPARTURE. SECURITY REACTION FORCES REPORT TO PRIMARY ISSUE. MAN THE IN-PORT EMERGENCY TEAM, PROVIDED FROM REPAIR 5. FOR-," the intercom started to repeat as Sergei flew down the ladder to Repair 5. People who were blitzed drunk an hour before had the calming sobriety of an emergency they had trained for.

Richter stumbled to the door of the repair locker, "GIVE ME A SIZE 12!" The boots flew out of the locker near his shins, and Sergei rapidly grabbed them before donning a bunker jacket and pants. Pulling on the boots after, he fastened all the velcro positions to secure a tight fit before donning his SCBA bottle and mask. Placing a bare hand against the hole where the regulator locks in, he took a deep breath and verified his seal. Attaching his regulator to his mask, he proceeded to leave the vicinity of the repair locker. "Repair locker leader, let the engineering officer know investigator 1 is out," he yelled back to the locker. Climbing the stairs to the quarterdeck, he opened the airlock to the outside. Screaming as he opened the door, "Chocolate!" The response came back from the petty officer of the watch, his pistol drawn and at a low ready, "Syrup!"

Sergei fully stepped out from the darkness of the ship's port-side break. Despite it being past midnight, the horizon glowed from the fire onboard the Tama Transporter, "Ho-lee fuck!" Rushing past the quarterdeck, he was stopped before he could cross the brow. "Security is going with you, you got to stay behind them to get there." He looked down to the pier and saw there was a four-man team securing the pier as they went, causing Richter to nod as he left the ship. By the time he had caught up to the rear element, the thick black smoke had filled the air and forced the team to halt. The team leader fell back to Sergei, "We can't go any further, smoke is thicker than fog."

This caused Sergei to immediately stand up and start his march forward, "If you can't go, I will. There's a possibility of people that need saved." He started moving faster than when they were securing the pier before turning his head and yelling back to the team leader, "Send a messenger or something about the situation, but I am going in!" As the investigator disappeared into the blanket of tar-inducing smoke, he turned the oxygen valve to open and the hiss of pure O2 entered his mask and his lungs, inducing a renewed sense of purpose in his body and spirit. He glanced at his watch, noting the time on air. His radio squelched and squawked static and garbled messages, a sign of scrambling and encrypted communications sharing his net. Sergei knew very little of what that actually was and just turned his radio off to stop the distraction. It was 0030, and he had 30 minutes to get in and get out.

Climbing the tall brow, the heat quickly rose to feel like there was a sauna in his bunker gear. Once he crested the top, it was clear to see the extent of the damage done. Cars were actively burning, their rare earth metals causing oxidizing flames as well as the smell of rubber burning caused the air to hang heavy with toxic fumes. The ship was listing, something he had not noticed until stepping foot on the vessel that she was slowly starting to tilt to starboard and sink. There was no use fighting the fire up here, they would have to dump all the cars off the side. He moved quickly towards a hatch, seeing that it was open. Stepping through the hatch, he descended further into the vessel, noticing a lack of any watertight fitting being secured. Every few meters he would call out for any survivors. The further he went into the boat, the more the picture became clear: the ship was sabotaged or scuttled intentionally. Upon reaching the engineering spaces, he could see through the hatch water rapidly rushing into the spaces below. He rushed into action, closing hatches and doors that led to lower decks and attempting to save the vessel from drowning him in the harbor.

He came across an open stateroom in his travels, looking inside and confirming his suspicions. Holding in the involuntary reaction to vomit, he quickly closed the door on the crewmen who were summarily executed in their sleep. His alarm blared, "10 MINUTES." Rapidly ascending the stairs to his exit, Sergei went through the hatch he had entered and was greeted by the downpour of fire hoses slamming sea water onto the deck in an attempt to extinguish the blaze. He instinctively turned his radio on, and was this time not greeted by the sounds of gibberish to him, but a singular voice calling to him amongst the cacophony, "INVESTIGATOR, RESPOND! WHAT IS THE OUTLOOK?" Rapidly descending the brow, his alarm screaming in his ear that his oxygen was dangerously low, the investigator stumbled down the pier before he was clear of the smoke. He fell to his knees, ripping the mask off his face and vomiting. Before he could get a bearing, he was drug by two other firefighters to a clearing. "Leave... leave... we need to leave," he faintly said through his bouts of weakness.

---

FFS Leyta, steaming at flank speed to Lighthouse Rock
0200, 11 October 2022

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The room Sergei Richter in was filled with cryptography gear and had been cleared of everything but the watchstanders, the CO, tactical watch officer, and the independent duty intelligence specialist onboard. The 'Old Man' as everyone on the boat called him looked especially distraught talking to the investigator, "You're telling me that this was not a freak accident and possibly the work of terrorists?" This caused him to shrug and nod, his head tilted halfway diagonally. "Yes, sir. Or something along those lines, Kap. It was like one of those propaganda war movies where you see the heroic team kill all the bad guys and save the day except, in this case, I was there to see the mess after and there were no film cameras rolling." The tactical watch officer cleared his throat and said, "Actually, petty officer, there was film rolling. We had cameras rolling here for accountability and you forgot that your mask has one rolling when you turn your oxygen on." He produced an SD card and plugged it into a laptop in the room, causing Sergei to recoil and say, "Sir, I don't want to relive it." The intelligence specialist, an older man of about 10 years his senior calmly said, "Richter, you must. This is of national import." A single tear rolled down his soot-caked face and he replied weakly with, "Aye."

Code: Select all

FLASH FLASH FLASH
EMERGENCY PRIORITY ONE
COMMANDS THIS PERTAINS TO: FJORDA, ATRYASTAN, FJORDRIKET, FORHIEL, ELIKUS, WOLYN, HANNOVER DESIGNATED "FISTS"; CANNIDARSAN NAVAL INTELLIGENCE DESIGNATED "EYES"; SYIKENIAN NAVAL INTELLIGENCE DESIGNATED "EARS"

MESSAGE IS AS FOLLOWS:
CIVILIAN VESSEL HAILING AS TAMA TRANSPORTER REGISTERED UNDER CANNIDARSAN MERCHANT CODES WAS SUBJECT OF ATTEMPT TO SCUTTLE THE SHIP IN PORT. AS OF 0130Z(VI) SHIP CONDITION STABILIZED FROM LISTING TO STARBOARD SIDE AND SINKING. HOLE BELOW WATERLINE, FIRES ONBOARD. ALL HANDS AND CARGO SUSPECTED TO BE LOST DUE TO NATURE OF INCIDENT. REQUEST INVESTIGATION BE DONE TO ALLOW PROPER RESOURCES TO BE DEDICATED. RECOMMEND DELAYING OF NEWS REPORTS AND NOTIFYING OF FAMILIES UNTIL FACTS ARE ESTABLISHED.

FAIR WINDS AND FOLLOWING SEAS, SHIPMATES.

UNION OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE,
UNION OFFICE OF ADMIRALTY,
BELSEN

[Syike]

Port of Umniati, Vasil Island
2350, 11 October 2022

---

"Cut the engine."
The motor of the rigid hull inflatable boat quickly whirred to a stop. The waves were harsh, but the craft stayed steady. The six men occupying it did a quick survey of the port. It was a calm night, business as usual for Vasil Island's primary trade hub. The SS Tama Transporter sat quietly in the port for their routine delivery of civilian vehicles. Nearby, the FFS Leyta was moored as well.
"No activity on both vessels. We're good to go."
Two men on the sides of the craft produced paddles to quietly approach the port side of the Tama Transport. Once there, another man equipped a hook and rope. He tossed it with all of his strength to secure an anchor point to the deck before tying the rope to their craft. Like spiders on a wall, the men slowly ascended the rope to board the deck of the ship. They quickly secured a small perimeter around the hook.
"This is it. ROE is free. No survivors. Viper, Jackal, sweep the deck and secure us a perimeter. Phoenix, Eagle, liquidate the crew quarters. Fox, you're with me. We'll set the charge. Complete operational objectives by 0000 or we're sleeping with the fishes."
"Roger that, Element."
The teams split up and quickly spread across the boat. There was little commotion, just the occasional raised voice and an ensuing thud as the bodies hit the floor. Element and Fox carefully descended into the lower decks of the vessel, being thorough in the liquidation of the ship's crew as they made their way down. Before too long they had found the lowest holding area of the cars being delivered on this shipment.
"We'll blow it here," declared Element. "The cars will catch fire and the whole ship will be fucked. Anyone who tries to put it out will choke on fumes and be dead before they know it."
Element quickly retrieved a 2 pound block of C4 plastic explosive from his backpack, with Fox covering the rear. He formed the explosive in such a way that it would easily cut a hole through the hull of the ship, aiding in the scuttling. The secondary explosions from the cargo would take care of the rest. He hastily inserted a blasting cap before checking his watch. 2359.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, Fox. The rest of the boys should be done."
In a quick fashion, the team ran back to their insertion point and descended down the rope they came in on. They cut the rope and sped away to a safe distance under the cover of darkness. Element checked his watch, 0003.
"A little behind schedule, but that's it. I'm blowing it, let's get the fuck back to HQ."
With a quick press of the detonator, a shockwave erupted on the lower deck of the Tama Transport. Merely seconds later, the ship went up in flames as a cascade of secondary explosions traveled up the ship, reducing the vessel to a scorched husk.

---

FOB Valencia, Port of Umniati, Vasil Island
0030, 12 October 2022

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Senior Specialist Edward Velez of the 23rd Armored Brigade was jolted awake by the blaring of the base alarm and an unholy force rattling every wall of his room in the barracks. From the window next to his bunk he could see a raging fire the likes of which he had never seen in the port. His investigation was cut short by a man yanking him out of his bunk and shoving a pair of boots in his hands.
"Report to your fucking vehicle, Specialist! We clearly have a problem at hand!"
Velez shoved his feet into his boots and joined the horde of conscripts flooding out of the barracks. Without grabbing any more of his kit, he ran as fast as he could to his unit's tank where the rest of the crew had already made it. His NCO was delivering a briefing to the tank's crew.
"To be frank boys, you all know about as much as I do. Someone blew up the port. Our orders are simple, we'll establish a hardened perimeter around the port while commandos and rescue teams head in to assess the damage and neutralize any threats. We may be facing a greater attack here, but we'll be ready for it. Strap in and let's get moving."
A convoy of trucks, humvees and armored vehicles flooded out of the gates of FOB Valencia, each section splitting off to their objective points. Small helicopters carrying the famous Syikenian Commandos zipped overhead to begin clearing warehouses and other buildings for potential insurgent elements. Fire trucks escorted by motorized infantry flew down the roads and towards the inferno in the water. Velez and the rest of the 23rd Armored Brigade began sectioning off the entrance of the port, digging in their tanks and IFVs in preparation of a second strike. Velez slowly lifted his hatch on the tank to get an outside look at the hills overlooking the Port of Umniati. To his surprise, there was nothing. The city was unmoving, almost undisturbed by the incident in the port. As the minutes turned into hours, more and more emergency vehicles left empty handed after putting out the fires. Morning would come, and no attack came.

---

BREAKING NEWS
EMERGENCY REPORT
SYIKE TODAY
Published at 12:00 Standard Time, 12 October 2022

Early this morning disaster struck at the Port of Umniati in the Vasil Island Special Administrative District. A cargo freighter, reported to be the SS Tama Transport of Cannidarsa went up in explosive flames during what was reported to be a calm and peaceful night in the land that has been termed "The Badlands" by Syikenian servicemen deployed to the region. Syike Today field reporters spoke of a massive response from the troops stationed at the base "FOB Valencia" situated near the port. One reporter conducted an interview with troops on the ground, one Senior Specialist Velez of the army's 23rd Armored Brigade:

"Yeah, I don't know man. It had to be the middle of the night when I felt the earth around me quake and the base alarms blaring without missing a beat. When I got deployed to the Badlands they said the insurgents were backing down, that the commandos had really kicked them in the balls and they didn't wanna fight no more. Guess that was a load of [EXPLETIVE]. They just blew up a [EXPLETIVE] boat, man. Those savages."

This incident occurred after a multiple month long lull in fighting on Vasil Island. A local insurgent militia, naming themselves "The Free Army of Vasil Island" had taken up arms against the Syikenian government shortly after the territory was ceded by Cannidarsa in 2014. Earlier this summer, progressive politician Fidel Medrano had taken the senate floor declaring "this eternal war of oppression must end, countless lives have been lost for no reasonable gain for either party. We must give peace a chance on Vasil Island." This position had been met with stiff opposition by both the ruling party and the army's general staff. Earlier this morning, Lieutenant General Abraham Everson, commander of Syikenian forces on Vasil Island had this to say about the incident:

"It's abundantly clear that our passive strategy in the Badlands emboldened these terrorists. We cut back our operations for the entire summer because some [EXPLETIVE] politi- Oh, I can't say that? Sorry. Some more, uh, pacifistic elements in the government said that the military operation was causing reckless destruction on the island. A more accurate term for it is saving lives. I'm pleased to announce that I've received approval from the senate to expand the military operation and put an end to these terrorists once and for all. The Vasil Island Special Administrative District is now in a state of martial law, effective immediately. The 10th Battle Group of the Syikenian Navy will deploy alongside XIV Corps of the army. We're going to finally suffocate and snuff out these animals and make Vasil Island a safe place for all citizens of Syike to prosper.

[Cannidarsa]

An EA-6B Prowler, somewhere over the North Karnickel Sea.
0850 Pisky Time, 12 October 2022

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"I don't like being exposed like this." Spoke the copilot, handling a paper chart in his lap. "Hey, relax, we're not exposed. We're just an airliner, flying in an airway. Even if we get bounced, we're only conducting a normal patrol right?" The chart rustled, being folded and snapped back into the clipboard on the instrument panel. "If they come up here and take a look, and see us with these missiles strapped, drop tanks and a target pod-" He was interrupted by the Electronic Warfare Officer in the back. "Then we're just out on patrol. No problem. I'm starting to taste their air search radar back here, won't be long until we're visual." The pilot glanced down to make doubly sure the transponder was set to "International" mode and would display them on a radar screen as "Cannidarsan Air Cargo Flight 650". "Yeah, we're just fine. We're just taking pictures anyway. The controller at Sunshine Bay approved us through the airspace." The island was coming into view on the horizon now. "If we get into any trouble and the fight's on, we'll just go for the deck. This bird isn't a fighter, we've got no offense against air targets." The pilot switched one of his screens from the stores page to view the picture from their targeting pod. "We can't maneuver around too much, if we come off our cleared heading or altitude they'll ask us why. We should be able to get some good photos, better than that weather bird that flew over earlier." The weapons officer chimed in. "I brought my disposable just incase." He said with a chuckle.
"It's go time." Said the pilot, "We're in their airspace now. See if we can't intercept some of their radio chatter while we're overhead." The clicking of switches came from the back. "Gear's ready skipper." The view from the targeting pod switched from a color picture a thermal imaging picture as the plane continued on course.

Office of the President, Government House, South Pisky, Cannidarsan SFR.
0850, 12 October 2022

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The President stood behind his desk, arms crossed, looking at the men sitting in front of him. "To me, it couldn't be more obvious. Someone's special services destroyed that ship. For god's sake, WE'RE the ones training the rebels. They'd never do something like that. Not even to get us directly involved." The Admiral of the Fleet wiped sweat from his forehead, pacing the room. "You don't understand, we don't HAVE that level of intelligence! We barely have a blue water fleet! Oh, but AIR FORCE there gets all the funding they need for the-" The Marshal of the Aerospace Defense Force spoke up, cutting him off. "How do you know about Project Wedgetail?" The Admiral stopped, whirling around to look at her. "I didn't say anything about that... Maybe you wouldn't mind telling us all about it?" The Marshal of the Cannidarsan Ground Forces sat next to the Marshal of the National Guard of Cannidarsa. He took a long hit from his cigarette before standing. "Will you absolute morons just shut up already?" The two turned to face him, but before they could resume arguing, the Marshal of the Cannidarsan Defense Force burst through the door, still wearing his utility working uniform. "Sorry I'm late, I was at headquarters." He said, carrying a laptop under his arm. "Why does everybody look like someone pissed in their coffee? Are you fighting again?" He sat the laptop down on the President's desk, opening it. The same image from the surveillance plane's targeting pod appeared. "There you go. Just like you asked. We can expect those images any minute now." The President walked around to the front of his desk, sitting on the couch across the small coffee table with the rest of his staff. He ran his hand through his beard. "Let's see if the all-seeing eye can indeed see all."

[Fjorda]

Union Naval Support Activity Lighthouse Rock, Lighthouse Rock
1400, 11 October 22

---

Lighthouse Rock was not much more than a rocky archipelago in the middle of the sea. Waves crashed against stone and the only animals found amongst the small outpost were birds and crustaceans. A miserable posting but a volunteer one for many as it opened up more scenic rotations for a later tour. The FFS Leyta rocked peacefully against his moorings, a gray warship against the gray skies of the area, just nothing but haze gray and gloominess.

Sergei Richter and one of his fellow shipmates sat in a room, the same room that they had sat in for most of the day since the arrival of the destroyer in port. They were currently the only vessel here, the others on varying patrols and one had even headed back to provide maritime security in the area of Vasil Island as the current tensions were high. This time a different face came in along with the three faces from his ship that he talked to. Sergei and his mate went to stand and were immediately put at ease and told to sit in their seats. The different face introduced herself as a Bundesfliege intelligence officer. They sat down across from the two and the door was locked shut behind them.

"If the... er, seaman Horthy could give his testimony and the appropriate evidence be loaded on the screen behind them, please," she shuffled a selection of papers on the desk in front of her. Seaman Horthy stood up nervously as a video file appeared on the projector screen behind him. Sergei turned to watch the video, curious as to what it would entail. It was a file from what looked like a black and white camera. Horthy asked for a glass of water before he could give his testimony and present the evidence, to which his request was granted, causing him to loudly gulp it down.

"As you can see, this is the raw video file from a Mk 35 Mod 2 25mm chaingun's Optical Sight System, or OSS. The video is in thermal, as the operator or technician from before had not turned the camera off after they were done." A cough interrupted his presenting, causing him to startle and quietly say, "I was the technician that forgot to turn the camera off after maintenance." He clicked a remote he had, and the video began to play, his tonal confidence having returned, "What you can see from the portside 25mm is the SS Tama Transporter moored up peacefully at Umniati shortly before midnight. If we wait a few seconds, something else will come into the focus... There!" He pointed excitedly at the screen, showing a RHIB coming inbound to the ship. Six men offloaded themselves off of the boat and onto the car hauler, before quietly slipping away and the boat exploding shortly thereafter.

The Bundesfliege officer, her name tape written as "Hoffman" quietly looked up from what she was writing, "And how did you find this out seaman Horthy? What led you to this discovery of evidence?" This caused his shipmate to look down at his feet and shuffle them silently at his position of relaxed attention, "When I went to man my sea and anchor posting I had to report the loss of the portside mount shortly after we made out to sea. The camera had burnt out. I was the last one to touch it for maintenance and forgot to turn it off before the night, which costs the Navy about 200,000 Marks, ma'am." This caused a little bit of a surprise to the officer, with her uttering a phrase of awe. She dismissed the seaman after getting up and tapping the door, letting two military policemen in to escort him out. The door locked after they had left, causing her to signal for Sergei to stand and present his story for the second time today.

---

FFS Raven Rock, off the coast of Umniati, Vasil Island
1730 Umniati time, 11 October 2022

---

Erich Schneider snorted when he thought back to those days of pulling guard duty at the Naval Station here. His introduction to the man he was supposed to meet was not a nice one, but they got better after that and had kept in touch despite it over the years. A battle bond wasn't something that one gave up, and Erich owed the man a beer anyways. He could still taste that Atryastan tobacco on his lips and now he wanted some, despite having switched over to the super snus of Hannover. The briefing on the mess decks had been a shut-in affair and was pretty simple: find the old sheriff Zeke Begara and establish a contact with the insurgents on Vasil Island if possible. The intelligence community had ample reason to believe that this was a false flag operation, motivated by the internal political and ethnic strife within Syike.

The two RHIBs onboard the destroyer had been doing small boat interception and training for gunnery guys to play around with how boats actually move. One of them pulled up alongside, the engine purring idly. Erich cut his thoughts short as the lead boatswain mate signaled for him to perform an up and over. Making sure his gear was tight and close to his body, Schneider went over the side of the destroyer, being helped into the smaller boat from the netting by the coxswain of the RHIB. "You here for business or pleasure there, sir?" This caused Erich to laugh, "A bit of both, I guess. Catching up with an old friend and seeing how he's doing after those Syike bastards evicted him and fired him in the same motion! Can you believe that?" This caused the crew of the small boat to all shake their heads in disbelief. The coxswain checked the time, "Alright, sir, it's about 20 minutes to shore at a regular pace. We can go faster, but I like to leave some in the tank in case something happens. Are you expecting any trouble?" Erich shook his head and took his seat on the boat as it raced off at a brisk clip. The other RHIB followed after some time, another game of cat and mouse being played on sensors.

He wasn't expecting any trouble or so he hoped. The place he had picked for the landing was the same location the Syikenians had used to land on the island all those years ago, hoping that they hadn't learned from their own lesson. Most intelligence had pointed towards the stationing of troops at Sunshine Bay and Jomo, so the little cove was a nice respite from the area. There was a spot overlooking the cove and the city, used by a non-ethnic Syikenian officer back in the day. All the debriefs had it back in the day and Schneider had hoped nobody paid attention to it. Either way, they were cleared to operate up to the shoreline anyways from previous arrangements for training purposes. As the RHIB neared the shoreline, the coxswain killed the throttle and let her coast in idly, a small hum compared to the loud roar earlier of the engine. The other RHIB still performed maneuvers further out from the shore, mimicking chasing the other boat inland.

Erich waded ashore, his compact pistol-caliber rifle at the ready. He wasn't looking to engage anything; his whole purpose was just to infiltrate and establish contact, but he did not want to come in unprepared. After he had secured his landing and the RHIB had shoved off back for the destroyer, he pulled his satellite phone out from his backpack, restowing his rifle into his bag. Looking at his wheelbook, he dialed a three-digit number. The green indicator that he was now on a satellite communication lit up faintly. He had a signal, but it was unknown for how long until coverage would come back. He then dialed the digit of his old friend, Zeke Begara. It rang, miraculously it went through, and the familiar voice of an old man had answered. "Hey buddy, its Erich Schneider. I need a place to stay, and I am currently residing at the place where it all started, do you mind if I come visit you on the island in say, a few days?" He shouldered his backpack and began the hike towards Umniati, waiting on a possible detour to a safehouse with the resistance or at Zeke's discretion. His watch beeped quietly at the half hour, it was now 1830 and the sun was going to set sometime soon.

[Syike]

Skies over Vasil Island
1750 Umniati time, 12 October 2022

---

An F-14 Tomcat of the Syikenian Navy 10th Battle Group ripped through the skies over the Badlands. The co-pilot was fixated on the radar screen in his cockpit. Mere hours before the fighter's sortie, Lieutenant General Everson declared a no fly zone over Vasil Island as the Armed Forces of Syike ramped up operations after the attack at the port. As the F-14 flew nearer to the western edge of the island, the co-pilot was shocked to find a blip appear on the edge of his radar.
"We've got a bogey, heading east. Move to intercept."
The F-14 quickly broke off of its path to maneuver to the rear of their target to line up a shot. The RIO acquired his target via the TCS from dozens of miles away. Through the grainy footage of the screen he could barely make out the frame of his target. Regardless, a no fly zone was a no fly zone. With the press of a button on his hand control unit, an AIM-54 missile tore through the clouds and struck the target within minutes. The RIO watched as the plane went down in flames through the TCS screen.

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SNS Tranquility, off the coast of Umniati, Vasil Island
1800, 12 October 2022

---

Captain Smith Casey stood on the bridge wing looking through the big eyes, surveying the horizon near the coast of Vasil Island. They had been following a blip on their radar for several miles. The AIS had been malfunctioning all day and they needed a visual confirmation of the contact in order to enforce the blockade of Vasil Island's waters. As the fog cleared, Captain Casey saw a Fjordan ensign on the vessel in the distance. The captain furrowed his brow. Things were hard enough in the Badlands, the last thing Syike needed was a military incident with Fjorda. He stepped back into the bridge. "Get me on the radio with that ship, and get a firing solution on them as well. Hopefully it doesn't come to that."
Casey took a deep breath before speaking into the open frequency,
"Fjordan ship, this is the SNS Tranquility of the Syikenian Navy. Clear these waters immediately or you will be fired upon. These waters are under an exclusion zone. I say again, Fjordan ship, clear these waters immediately or you will be fired upon. These waters are under an exclusion zone."

---

FOB Valencia, Port of Umniati, Vasil Island
2100, 12 October 2022

---

Velez hastily made his way back to his barrack after a long day on guard duty inside of a boiling hot tank outside the port. As he started to decompress in his bed, he grabbed his journal to make an entry for the day before he went to sleep.

Code: Select all

eddie velez
12 october

another shitty day in the badlands. i think i lost 10 pounds in that sauna of a tank today. 3 months of deployment and i thought i'd finally see some action after that shitshow in the port. those commando wackjobs got to have all the fun kicking in doors all over the port looking for whoever blew up that boat. meanwhile i stared at the same tree for 12 hours with my binoculars counting the leaves. i cant believe i have 9 more months of this nonsense. i was supposed to be in university before they pulled my draft card. i had just graduated and was looking forward to getting my degree so i could finally move to a nicer country than syike where i could get a living wage. maybe fjorda or something. i dont know a lot about other countries. all i know is syike is the asshole of the world. theres been some kind of war since before i was a kid. and now i grew up to be in this one. i don't feel bad about it though. these psychos in the badlands have killed a lot of innocent people. they don't call it the badlands for shits and giggles. rights after the great kerfluffle of 2014 a big fucking battle erupted in jomo. i saw it on the news. people with guns going crazy in the streets since we took over. my older cousin even fought here. bastards took off his leg with a car bomb. but of course once i deploy all the fighting grinds to a halt. that pissant politician medrano started talking about peace and the terrorists ate it all up. everson has the right idea i think. we just need to take the fight to the terrorists where it hurts so people can stop getting killed and i can just get on with my life. duty calls and all that stuff. hopefully with this operation everson declared we'll finally make some progress. i know the boys in the brigade have been itching to blow some shit up. we get these tanks and dont even really use them. i got a good feeling though. maybe things will really change

[Fjorda]

Zeke Begara's Homestead, outside of Umniati, Vasil Island
2200 Umniati time, 11 October 2022

---

Erich Schneider had made the hike a couple of hours earlier and had spent the time since he came here hiding his gear and acclimating himself with the surrounding area. Zeke had told him to wait until nightfall to show him some stuff. The old sheriff had made himself a decent life out here, just harvesting his rice and tobacco. He had some occasional help, and that was Erich's cover. The man wasn't feeble by any means, but he could masquerade as a hired help who worked the land he stayed on. They had spent the past twenty minutes catching up on his porch, a nice serving of cigars provided by Erich and some decent whiskey from the host.

"Zeke, what's this crazy stuff you got to show me? Don't tell me you have some tunnels that run the way of the entire island going to like Sunshine Bay or elsewhere, right?" He checked his wallet and everything, noting his new identity. "Remember, I'm Maxamilian Sulzbach, an expat from Fjorda who fell down on his luck and came out here. I didn't know you prior to say last season." He noticed he felt a bit naked without any firepower, "Sheriff, it just doesn't feel right to not have a firearm out here in the wilderness. Do these Syike overlords allow you to carry for your protection or do they consider you a terrorist if you do?"

---

FFS Raven Rock, international waters off the coast of Umniati, Vasil Island
1750 Umniati time, 12 October 2022

---

"All stations, air. Checkprint track 3754." The scattered replies came back from their respective corners of the air warfare alley. "Strength 1, no echoes," came from the air search radar operator. "Squawking all codes except military, flying as 'Cannidarsan Air Cargo Flight 650'. Comair route but awfully far from home of record," the tactical information coordinator stated. "Electronic signature matching that of an electronic warfare plane. We know the Cannidarsans allow civilians full-fledged aircraft, but this is new. Even originated from their carrier out there, we have them on our shared battlenet," said the experienced electronic warfare supervisor.

"Hold on," interrupted the radar operator. "VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE TRACK 3985! NOT INBOUND TO OWN SHIP!" The air supervisor stomped on his foot pedal, "Missile supe, get us a solution on that track and also tag that fucking archer while we are at it!" The tactical action officer picked up his phone at the front of CIC, dialing into the bridge. "Yeah, set it." A few seconds went by before a klaxon was heard over the intercom system followed by a rapid-fire speech from the officer of the deck on the bridge. "General quarters, general quarters. All hands report to your general quarters stations. Travel down and aft on starboard side, travel up and forward port side. Set Condition Zebra throughout the ship. Make all reports to your controlling stations. Controlling stations, make reports of material readiness and equipment readiness to the appropriate supervisors. Reason for general quarters: unknown air contact launching missiles."

The missile supervisor called over to the air warfare supervisor, "Engagement keeps entering queue and cancelling. Not enough time for intercept, we can still nab the archer." A verbal affirmation was granted over the net, with the TAO acknowledging it before saying, "TIC! Get on the horn with that plane, tell them to start chucking shit out the back in an attempt to throw that missile off!" The TIC called out on comms multiple times, "She's not responding to hails, sir." This led to a stressed reply from the TAO, "TRY EVERY FREQUENCY, DAMMIT! PUSH THIS DATA TO THE CANNIDARSANS!" The rapid keystrokes of the TIC amplified the tension in his voice over his hails, warning the Cannidarsan aircraft of a missile heading inbound. Before long, the radar operator stated, "Track 3754 multiple strengths, she's breaking up. Current flightpath leads the aircraft to over Vasil Island."

The tense few minutes were held with bated breath until the Syikenian broadcast broke through, with the CO reporting into CIC prior to the radio hail. The fire control director had been illuminating the unknown aircraft for a couple of minutes, waiting for the CO's order to fire. After quiet conferral with the TAO, the CO quickly stood up from his hunched position and found a seat next to the TAO, firing up his own console in combat. Putting on his own headset he quickly barked his orders, "Surface, get with guns and get a manual plot going for fire. Missile supe, you are going to keep that tube spun up on that archer and you're gonna set some waypoints for an ASM, blind fire off starboard side. OOD, give us a hard right rudder for about 20 seconds and let us unmask tubes and mounts. CIWS, you are now in air warfare with the gun disarmed. We are prepared for war, ladies and gentlemen. We are a warship, after all."

He flicked a switch, taking his headset away from internal communications and onto the external radio net. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself before saying, "SNS Tranquility, this is the captain of the FFS Raven Rock responding to your hail. We are in international waters and are operating independently. We have a radar picture that paints your regime as civilian murderers. I recommend you change course and attitude before you are promptly met with force that exceeds your verbiage. As of now, we are acting in self-defense, and the defense of others. May God have mercy on your souls, as you are a damned lot." He took his foot off of his pedal, just as surface finished plotting a fire mission. He turned towards the surface side of combat, "Across the bow, starshell. Do it, do it now, guns!" The affirmatives were echoed, and in a few short moments the forward 130mm trained towards the SNS Tranquility, leading it a few degrees. "Mount 51 loaded, shell on the way in 3, 2, 1. Shell away!"

The destroyer rocked as the propellant ignited in the chamber, punching a flare out of the barrel, its white-hot phosphor coating screaming out against the fog. The propellant casing ejected out the front of the gun, depositing itself on the deck and leaving a nice dent from the impact. The next set of rounds loaded up quickly thanks to the autoloader, but they weren't going to be warning shots this next time around. Meanwhile, a different klaxon filled the ears of anyone within hearing of the weatherdecks, and any sailor outside quickly fell inside. A single missile rocked out of the tube, heading towards the Syikenian intercept plane.

Code: Select all

FLASH FLASH FLASH
PRIORITY ONE
MESSAGE RECIPIENTS OF "FISTS" AND "EYES"
SYIKENIAN VESSELS ACTING INDEPENDENTLY FIRED UPON COMMERCIAL AIR FLIGHT 650, LOST WITH ALL HANDS. FFS RAVEN ROCK, ACTING IN SELF-DEFENSE AND DEFENSE OF OTHERS FIRED WARNING SHOTS ACROSS THE BOW OF SYIKENIAN NAVAL VESSEL AND LAUNCHED A MISSILE AT THE AIRCRAFT THAT SHOT DOWN CIVILIAN AIRLINER.

GODSPEED.

[Cannidarsa]

CFS Three Black Cats, North Karnickel Sea
1800 Umniati time, 12 October 2022

---

"We just- we just lost Chaika!" An officer walked over to the console. "What?" The operator tapped the screen. "There, Lieutenant. We got it from Raven Rock. Looked like a shootdown." The officer turned around and picked up a phone to the bridge. "Launch the alert aircraft, they shot down Chaika. Launch CSAR too." On the flight deck, aircraft sitting ready on the catapult roared to life and launched off the deck, climbing into the sky bound for Vasil Island. The helicopter was already lifting off as the next set of aircraft were moved into position to launch. The Lieutenant turned. "This shit just went really bad really quick.." He muttered to nobody in particular.

---

Office of the President, Government House, South Pisky, Cannidarsan SFR.
0900, 12 October 2022
President Lafluer paced the room. "They shot it down?" The Marshal, still holding his phone to his ear replied. "That's what our carrier group reports. They got the data from a Fjordan ship nearby. It's legit. I'm ready to order the Alpha Strike-" The President cut him off. "No, no! We need to respond, but not like that. I'm sure the combat air patrol will send that message. Tell them to remain OUTSIDE the airspace. They are only to shoot if they're shot at. Are we clear?" He nodded. "Yes sir." The President returned to his desk, picking up the direct line to Syike, and punched a button. "Get me through to President Dominguez."

---

Vasil Island, 1800 Umniati time, 12 October 2022
He hit the ground hard. The last thing he remembered was feeling a jolt, and then searing heat through his left arm. He scrambled to his feet, looking up to see if he could see the other 3 parachutes, but the sun still burned like fire in the sky, blinding him. He could see nothing but sand all around as he disconnected his parachute harness and checked to make sure his rescue beacon was enabled. He pulled his helmet off, dropping it in the sand. He could feel the blood trickle down his left arm, but was too shocked to investigate further. He started to come to his senses, looking back down and switching his beacon off. "They... they.. fucking shot us down!" He exclaimed, knowing there was nobody to hear him. He glanced at his arm, noticing it was only a little scratch, before gathering up his parachute and looking up at the sky again, scanning the horizon. Over the top of the dunes, he could just make out some oily black smoke. The crash site. "Alright alright alright..." He muttered, pulling out his compass. "That way... fuck, I gotta go uhhh.... go west!" He turned, marching off silently opposite the direction of the smoke. He paused to pull his pistol from his holster, chambering a round and replacing it. His shadow was already growing long against the pale sandy dunes, the only survivor of his stricken plane, alone in the hot badlands of Vasil Island.

---

Zeke Begara's Homestead, outside of Umniati, Vasil Island, 1800 Umniati time, 12 October 2022
"Well, Max, what do you think of your accommodations here on the farm?" Zeke said, taking a long pull from one the cigars. "I hope you found those tools I showed off to you to be up standards in your own homeland. They're great for the harvest. Even better for the planting." He said with a sly look. He was sitting in his chair, watching the sun set. His phone buzzed and glanced down at it. "Oh, looks like a plane crash... You should stay here. I wanna go check this out myself.." He patted his hip under his duster. "I'll bring my little friend, just incase. I'll leave my phone with you." He stood, stretching, before walking to his old land rover, opening the door and settling into the battered interior. It trundled off the farm onto the main road.

[Fjorda]

FFS Raven Rock, international waters off the coast of Umniati, Vasil Island
1800Umniati time, 12 October 2022

---

As the starshell round screamed past the bow of the guided missile cruiser of the Syikenian Navy, their respective naval gunnery responded in kind, the forward gun mount slewing to aim at the Raven Rock. Watching from the monitors inside of combat, the command was given to engage, but the missile supervisor acting on inherent self-defense pulled the alarm bell and didn't wait to execute the missile launch command. As soon as the klaxon rang outside, an entire salvo of four anti-ship missiles rocked out of the tubes, dumb fired at the cruiser. They had programmed waypoints into the missiles but kept their seekers off to throw off enemy countermeasures. The Raven Rock had essentially come alongside and broadsided the Tranquility, who was steaming ahead at them to intercept, creating a T in the ocean.

The Tranquility rapidly steered to avoid, slaloming in the choppy waters and throwing off gunnery solutions, the forward mount firing, penetrating the lifelines protecting sailors from falling over the deck, sending superheated shrapnel over the deck into unlucky sailors manning crew-served weaponry as the shell raced over the foc'sle. Union sailors clutched puncture wounds that were cauterized on touch, fusing metal to flesh. Gunners and assistant gunners reported casualty conditions up and down the forward mounts before engaging in the naval bar fight, sending small arms projectiles to rake the skin of the Tranquility. All of the smaller weapons barked, shell casings littering the decks and creating a rain of clinks and clanks that merged with the rivers of blood pooling at the feet of the survivors. Holes punched into flesh, ceramic, and steel, discriminating against none as the angry bees stung man and machine.

The Raven Rock was punching above her weight class, a destroyer against a cruiser, but she wasn't outmatched. This wasn't a long-range affair but instead a close quarters brawl and the ship classes had little to differ at this range other than the cruiser having two naval artillery mounts to the destroyer's one. This is where Union funding and training superseded the Syikenian military's ideals and doctrines at the individual levels. A shift towards ethnic ties and conscription led to a poorly motivated and funded general military, whereas the Union's inclusiveness and equipment procurement led to a well-adapted machine capable of matching adversaries in a multitude of scenarios. This would be shown shortly in this dance of death, the 130mm on the Raven Rock firing rapidly in response, near misses at first due to the rapid maneuvers but finally finding the mark by slamming into the giant superstructure with a high-explosive shell. Fires and damage separated the survivors on the bridge from the rest of the crew, before the stress of holding up a sensor mast and the bridge caused the weight to fall upon the ship like a hammer, cutting off the bow end of the ship from the rest.

Cheers erupted from within the CIC of the Raven Rock before the CO realized something that was every mariner's nightmare: the cruiser had gone full plant on her last orders and the Raven Rock did not have the time or space to disengage from a collision. Grabbing his microphone and rapidly firing off, "This is the Captain speaking, all hands brace for impact on the starboard side midships and make ready to abandon ship!" As soon as he finished the announcement, the ship jarred from the impact, sailors being flung into bulkheads or over the side as the headless cruiser slammed into the smaller destroyer. The cruiser, running at full clip, easily cleaved through the decks and bulkheads of the destroyer.

Both ships rapidly took on water and were leaking fuel and fire into the waters around them, complicating any ability to self-rescue and escape. Power was cut in multiple areas of the boat except the engineering rear portion, plunging surviving crew into darkness, only illuminated by the photoluminescent stickers placed around hatches and in the compartments. Somehow, some lifeboats were knocked free of their containers and now were inflating in the oily water. Sailors from both navies rapidly scrambled towards lifeboats, not caring who got to them, only that they were out of the ocean that would easily swallow them whole as it was now starting to do to their ships. They paddled with whatever was available to try and rescue the survivors in differing states and get out of the suction zone and fire of the ships. Out of the hundreds of crewmembers from both ships, maybe a few dozen had made it to the water in some way and even less were able to rescue themselves or be rescued.

---

Zeke Begara's Homestead, outside of Umniati, Vasil Island
1800 Umniati time, 12 October 2022

---

Erich nodded, heading inside to the homestead before he opened his own satellite receiver. Dialing his code, he connected to the satellite before giving his SITREP and hearing calmly on the other end that he was now marooned. "MAROONED!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, MAROONED?!" The voice on the other end, not responding with his same energy simply stated, "The Raven Rock engaged the Syikenians. They have not made contact since, presumed to be lost with all hands and no clue if the Syikenian ships they engaged survived. You are our only resource on the island, standby for tasking." The phone connection ended, and Erich sat down in a chair, holding his head in his hands. This mission had gone from bad to impossibly worse, and he had to find some way to hold it together and get help from the locals.

[Cannidarsa]

CFS Three Black Cats, North Karnickel Sea
1830 Umniati time, 12 October 2022

---

"Romeo, this is Tango, over." The man had been repeating this message on the open frequency for about 25 minutes now, before an officer tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. "They're gone, sailor." Meanwhile on the flight deck, attack aircraft sat at the catapults ready to launch, with the entire air wing being prepared for combat. The Admiral looked over the flight deck from the bridge, holding a telephone to his ear, listening to orders from Fleet Headquarters in Pisky. He flinched as another set of attack aircraft launched from the deck, others immediately being moved into position. The carrier's AWACS buzzed overhead, coordinating the aircraft to their proper vectors and grouping them up. The fleet continued to steam into the wind and launch aircraft, though authority to strike had not yet been relayed. If anything, it would be a good show of force, but the Admiral had a feeling things were going to heat up. He hung the phone up, saying to everyone on the bridge. "This will get serious really fast, and we'll be lucky if we live to see the end of it."

---

Office of the President, Government House, South Pisky, Cannidarsan SFR.
0930, 12 October 2022

---

President LaFluer couldn't be connected to Dominguez in any reasonable time, and had grown tired of waiting, so had just hung up the phone when he was informed of message traffic from Fjordan Fleet sources that a ship near Vasil Island had fired warning shots at a Syikenian ship. Almost as quickly, he was informed by the carrier group that the Fjordan ship had gone off the air, and no signals from her could be detected anymore. He sat at his desk, his head in his hands, an already stressful day had just become almost unbearable. The Marshal was the only person besides the President's aid still in the room, and he stood in front of the desk stiffly. "We need to take action immediately. We can only assume that we will be attacked at any moment, the manuals call for immediate mobilization of civil defense and calling up our reservists." The President looked up, turning somewhat pale. "Alright, do it. By my order." The Marshal smartly saluted, bringing his fist over his heart. "Right away, sir." He was already on the phone as he walked out of the room.

---

Fleet Air Rescue CH-46, Off the coast of Vasil Island
1830 Umniati time, 12 October 2022
The Helicopter had picked up only a few survivors from the ships, having heard their emergency beacons rather than that of the downed Cannidarsan airmen. The troop compartment of the helicopter held sailors from both sides, dead, wounded or otherwise. They had worked to pick up anyone they could, as their code of conduct made no distinctions. "Bingo fuel." The co-pilot called as the aircraft made one last lazy circle around the lifeboats. They would have to for themselves, but the air crew had tossed supplies down to the water near the lifeboats and a few additional liferafts, in hopes they could do at least SOME good. "We're getting the hell out of here." The pilot spoke into the intercom. He keyed the radio. "Tango, this is Guardian Angel, returning with 19 survivors and 8 dead." The ship would be surprised, no doubt, at the number of people recovered from an aircraft that carries only 4 crew, but they would have to wait until they were back safe on the deck to tell the whole story. The chopper turned, tilting forward to speed away from the coast and back to their ship. They would be running on fumes when they touched down on the deck.

---

Vasil Island, 1830 Umniati time, 12 October 2022
Zeke stood on the hill next to his pickup, surveying the still smoldering crash site. 2 Small helicopters had arrived just after he did, and some men were now making their way towards him, with rifles at low ready. The tail of the aircraft was mostly intact, as they often did survive crashes, and he could just see that it was painted in a low-visibility rendition of the Cannidarsan Naval Ensign. He slid back into the driver's seat, turning the truck around and shoving the gas pedal to the floor as he sped off, back onto the dusty road for home.

[Totalaris]

500 KM SOUTHEAST OF VASIL ISLAND, INTERNATIONAL WATERS.
TSS “UNYIELDING FATE”
1830 UMNIATI TIME, OCTOBER 12, 2022

---

Missions like this made Squire itch. Though his two decades in the Totalaris Naval Command had hardened him to many situations while protecting the sovereignty of the large island nation of Totalaris, Squire still held naive hope for peaceful resolution with condition. Though originally one of two destroyers sent to observe Vasil Island from a distance to observe military movement, Vice Admiral Squire now found himself reporting a possible outbreak of war to Navy Command.

“Vice Admiral, long range is still quiet. The conflict appears localized. We’re still hidden, sir,” a young petty officer reported to the older naval Admiral. “Can we pick up anything on comms?” Vice Admiral Squire looked to his comms officer. “Negative, sir. If we wanted a better idea, we’d have to move closer to the island, maybe we could catch something outgoing,” the more grizzled comms officer looked back to Squire. “We have direct orders from NAVCOM to hold position no closer than 500 kilometres, and truth be told, I wouldn’t want to touch this clusterfuck with a twenty foot steel pole.”

Almost on cue, the young comms officers station began to light up, him paying quick attention to his headset. “Vice Admiral, we’re being hailed.”

“T.S.S Defiant Grace to Unyielding Fate,”

“Put me on,” Squire said, now standing over the comms station, taking the headset from the officer.

“Forgive me Vice Admiral, but what the fuck is happening over there?”

“A possible act of war, it seems the Fjordan vessel opened fire, captain.”

“Has NAVCOM sent instructions, sir?”

“Negative, Lansky. We’re keeping with original mission parameters. Likelihood is we’ll fall back to Estani Island and dock there while NAVCOM decides if they want more information.”

“Understood, Vice Admiral. Our long range radar can’t pick up anything, we’re watching short range to make sure we don’t get blindsided. Defiant Grace, out.”

Squire handed the headset back to the comms officer while he took his spot back in the middle of the CIC of the destroyer. “I suppose we’ll see how this plays out.”

[Syike]

Camp Tempest
Location Unknown

---

"Someone found us out, Element." Everson's cold, dead eyes lazily stared into Element's. Element maintained a cool composure. He was a killer of men after all, very little could phase him after the things he's done. But something about Everson's gaze brought the deepest part of his psyche to a point of primal fear. Failure means something worse than death to Everson.
"The operation went off without a hitch, sir. It was over in five minutes at least. Who could've seen us?"
Everson redirected his gaze to the satmap to the side of their dimly lit room. On it contained nearly constantly updated information of the locations of military elements of various nations around the island. No report from Syikenian forces on the island missed Everson's ears.
"Fjordan navy, perhaps. Likely Cannidarsa. It was their ship after all, and they haven't taken their eyes off this rock since 2014. They're already on the way, for that matter."
The hairs on Element's arms stood up in a shock. Everson continued, "about a hundred fighters and strike aircraft are coming. Probably for retribution for their so called "cargo flight." But don't fret, every fighter we have should be in the sky by now. But forget all of that, it's time for you to redeem yourself."
Element took a sharp breath. His life was saved for now, but the pressure was insurmountable. Everson rarely gave second chances.
"There's a man on the island. One with a set of skills and knowledge that have the potential to really upset this operation. A former commando from the king's days. He was spotted earlier near the wreckage of the Cannidarsan cargo flight. You're going to take your team back to the island, and you're going to bring him to me. Alive."
Element didn't miss a beat. "Understood, sir. What's his name?"
"Begara."

---

Prime Minister's office, Capital Building, Orquídea, Syike
1230, 12 October 2022

---

Dominguez jiggled his leg in a nervous tic under his desk as he stared at the ringing phone. A direct line from the president's office in Pisky. His job had gone from bad to almost impossibly worse in a mere matter of days. After what felt like hours, the phone stopped. He grabbed the unit and threw it at the wall with all of his strength.
"THAT FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!"
Dominguez's secretary hastily opened the door of his office, making sure there wasn't an emergency.
"Sir, is everythi-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! WHERE'S MEDRANO?!"
"Already here,"
Fidel Medrano, senator and leader of Syike's Party for Peace and Progress shoved past the secretary and slammed the door of the office.
"Take it easy, Felix. We can still salvage this mess."
Dominguez sat back down at his desk before sweeping his hair out of his face. Medrano grabbed the phone, still intact, and returned it to the desk.
"Fidel, this is fucked up. Fucked up beyond measure. I knew Everson was a raging piece of shit but I didn't think he would actually do this."
"I know, but it's not too late. We still have eyes and ears in the Badlands. And with enough luck, we'll have people loyal to us when the time comes."
Dominguez wiped his face with his hands.
"Don't fucking talk like that, Fidel. What time? We can't let Everson's filth come back home. That mess stays in the Badlands."
"How do you propose we keep it there?"
Dominguez took a deep breath. He tried to be a good man during his career in politics and government, but underhanded measures were not a foreign concept to him.
"We need to cut off the island. In every way. Everson's blockade and no fly zone stays. His reinforcements are already on the way. But everything else must go as well. No internet, no mail, nothing. We have to time this correctly. Everson is a madman and a terrorist, but not enough people see him that way. I believe a war is coming, Fidel. If LaFleur has any sense he's already mobilizing his troops. But the people can't know their sons are going to die fighting them. No information can enter or exit, or else we'll have a reckoning of incomprehensible magnitude on our hands. Maybe we already do."
Medrano slowly nodded. "I have enough connections in the intelligence agency. But this is a big deal, Felix. One wrong video gets uploaded and, well, we already know what will happen."
Dominguez stared back. "I know. You're dismissed, Fidel. We're racing against the clock."
Medrano corrected his tie and stood up. He gave Dominguez a glance of confidence and approval. They had been friends since college, and now they were preparing for war. He exited the office and turned to the secretary.
"Sorry about all of that. Let me get you a coffee."
Back in the office, Dominguez softly touched the phone to Pisky. After gathering the courage, he swiftly picked it up and dialed.
"LaFleur, this is Dominguez. Everson is rogue. You have free reign to operate, but that's as much help as I can give you. Try not to make too much of a mess, for both of our sakes."

---

Near Sunshine Bay, Vasil Island
1900 Umniati time, 12 October 2022

---

Velez's M60A3 tank slowly rolled down the back roads in formation with its squad near Sunshine Bay. Velez was sitting on the rim of his hatch sipping a coffee. Another slow patrol in the infamous Badlands.
"Man," Velez spoke, "months of this shit and all that happens is a blown up boat. I've barely heard of so much as a firefight going down around here."
His commanding officer, 2nd Lieutenant Adam Velazquez piped up, "It's better that way, son. I can promise you that."
Their conversation was interrupted by the boom of fighter jets reaching mach speed in the skies overhead. 5 of the new F22 fighters and an accompaniment of assorted F15 and F16 fighters.
Velez held his hand over his brow and stared in awe. "Fighters?! What the fuck is going on? They don't need that many to blow up a weapons cache!" Velez looked at Velazquez in fright. "Is this an exercise or something?!"
The lieutenant raised his hand to silence him. "Button up, I have a bad feeling about this."
The crew returned to the safety of their tank. Before long, the tank's radio came to life.
"All assets, this is Lieutenant General Everson. Our nation is under attack. Hostile forces are striking Vasil Island. Assume defensive positions immediately and await further orders. I repeat, we are under attack. Assume defensive positions and await further orders."
Velez felt his heart drop. He didn't understand. Under attack by who? The terrorists? He'd never seen something like this before.
His thoughts were cut off by the tank jolting forward off the road. They were bound for a hilltop position overlooking Sunshine Bay where they would dig in and prepare for the hellfire that was to come.

---

Special Operations ELEMENT
Vasil Island
1845 Umniati Time, 12 October 2022

---

Element studied the landscape surrounding the crash site of the Cannidarsan aircraft as his scout helicopter descended to land nearby. The special forces unit that responded had already established a perimeter. Element and his team dismounted and made their way up to the crash site where the team leader of the other unit was waiting.
"Jupiter sent me. What's the situation?"
The team leader gestured around, "Everyone's dead. There's a body unaccounted for. Priority target took off in a truck. Jupiter said to let him go."
Element stroked his chin. He wasn't sure why Everson would send him on this manhunt after cutting Begara loose like this.
"Understood. Which way did he run off? Jupiter wants him at Tempest."
The team leader pointed at a hill a short ways away from the crash site. "That's his last known. You could probably follow the tracks. It's a small island, can't be far."
Element simply nodded before gesturing his team to board their chopper. They climbed aboard and flew low over the hill, looking to track Begara's vehicle back to wherever he went to hide.

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Off the coast of Vasil Island
1835 Umniati Time

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A QRF of multiple attack helicopters, patrol boats and even a fighter jet patrolling the skies overhead quickly reached the location of the battle between the Tranquility and Raven Rock. Ground radar reported a foreign chopper interdicting, and it was to be detained.
4 AH-64 attack helicopters approached the wreckage in formation. They spotted a Cannidarsan rescue helicopter, no doubt their target. The lead AH-64 tuned his radio to frequency 121.5, the emergency channel for all aircraft.
"Cannidarsan aircraft, this is the Syikenian Armed Forces. You are flying in an illegal zone, and are currently being detained. Enter formation or you will be fired upon."
The squadron escorted the rescue chopper back to Naval Base Pripjat, where the base commander was waiting at the helipad where the rescue chopper landed. He approached, flanked on his sides by a unit of special forces. A transport helicopter was waiting nearby. The special forces soldiers unloaded all foreign servicemen aboard, including the helicopter's pilots. They were carelessly shuffled onto the transport helicopter while the surviving crew of the Tranquility were tended to by base medical staff. The Fjordans and Cannidarsans, however, were being taken to Camp Tempest.