Dissimilar Systems Comparison Matrix

[Marquesan]

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Forces Marquises aux Armes
Dissimilar Systems/Opposing Force Training
Foreign Systems Evaluation Matrix:

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ARMORED VEHICLES:

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Battle Tanks:
Lyran Arms LY10 'Bloodhound' Light Tank
TALON NAC HTV-014 MBT's w/ Lv. III Armor
Allanean T-100 Warg Main Battle Tank
Palmyrion CV.101 Main Battle Tank
Machina Haruspex S-98 MBT's
Machina Haruspex S-94a Mk. II MBT's
Lyran Arms LY7A1 'Rottweiler' Medium Tank
SDI PzKfz 151 Tiger
Lyran Arms LY4A2 'Wolfhound' Main Battle Tank
Lyran Arms LY9/M22 'Dire Wolf' Heavy Tank
Lyran Arms LY6A1 'Werewolf' Assault Tank
Kraven Reich Koenigsjager
Allanean T-3500 SuperHeavy Battle Tank

Artillery:
SDI AtKpz 153 Chimera
SDI FlKpz 502 Orca
SDI RS-90 Firestorm
Lyran Arms LY7/366 'Lammasu' Self-propelled Howitzer
Lyran Arms LY7/4072 'Cockatrice' Multiple Rocket System
Lyran Arms LY7/222 'King Shepherd' SPAAG
Allanean Hadur-class heavy howitzer
Allanean AA-SPG-155 Grond Self-Propelled Howitzer

Infantry Fighting Vehicles:
Palmyrion CV.102-8 Multi-Role Armoured Vehicle
SDI Atpz 303 Marauder
TALON NAC MTV-09 IFV's w/ Lv. III Armor
SDI AKpz 504 Riptide
Machina Haruspex S-17 APALV
SDI IfKpz 501 Goliath
Lyran LY224 'Sorcha' Heavy Infantry Fighting Vehicle

COMBAT AIRCRAFT:

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Fighters:
SDI F/A-36 Seraph
SDI F/A-36C Sea Seraph
Machina Haruspex HAD S30
Machina Haruspex HAD S34 LSF
Aerodyne F/A-38A-Block 20 "Sentinel"
Aerodyne F-40A Whirlwind
Lyran Arms LY908 'Warhawk' Strike Fighter/Interceptor
Lyran Arms LY909 'Sparrowhawk' Light Multirole Fighter
Lyran Arms LY910 'Shadowhawk' Advanced Air Superiority Fighter

Bombers:
SDI A-20 Ghost
SDI B-3 Wraith
SDI RB-80C Vampire
Aerodyne B-90A Condor

Helicopters:
SDI RAH-80 Reaper
SDI MH-90 Phantom
Aerodyne AH-79C Anaconda
Lyran Arms LALY-215 'Reaver' Attack Helicopter

Transports & Reconnaissance:
SDI MC-53 Medusa
TALON NAC TA-07 Complete Kit
SDI SR-96A Valkyrie

WARSHIPS & SUBMARINES:

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Major Combatants:
Lyran Arms Longsword-class Superheavy Guided Missile Warship
Allanean Hood-class Superdreadnought
Allanean Quiver-class Heavy Arsenal Ship
Lyran Arms Pijl-class Arsenal Ship

Minor Combatants:
Machina Haruspex HAI 202 "Silverfish" FPAC
ANEP CPC-1115
ANEP CPCE-1106
Allanean Needle-class Very Slender Vessel

Submarines:
ANEP SSN-1110
ANEP SSNE-1112
Allanean Estoc-class SSGN/SSBN

MISSILE SYSTEMS:

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Lyran Arms LY589B Hellion-II AERCM
Lyran Arms HK7 'Viking' Hypersonic Cruise Missile
Allanean Skypiercer Tactical Orbital Launch Platform

[Marquesan]

Light Tank Shootout: TDA.25 "Ajax-A" vs. Lyran LY10 "Bloodhound" / Ionician HTV-014 / Allanean T-100 "Warg"

Main Battle Tank Shootout: TKH.59R3 "Chimera" vs. HIA S-98 "Land Wolf" / HIA S-94a "Jelduno" / Lyran LY7A1 "Rottweiler" / SDI PzKfw 151 "Tiger" / Lyran LY4A2 "Wolfhound" / Palmyrion CV.101

Heavy Tank Shootout: BLH.73 "Electra" vs. Lyran LY9/M22 "Dire Wolf" / Lyran LY6A1 "Werewolf" Assault Tank / Kraven Reich "Koenigsjager" / Allanean T-3500

Howitzer Shootout: AGA.47 "Amarok-A" vs. Lyran LY7/366 "Lammasu" / SDI AtKpz 153 "Chimera" / Allanean "Hadur" / Allanean AA-SPG-155 "Grond"

SPAAG Shootout: AWC.40 "Orcus-B" vs. Lyran LY7/222 "King Shepherd" / SDI FlKpz 502 "Orca"

Rocket Artillery Shootout: AGA.47 "Amarok-B" vs. Lyran LY7/4072 "Cockatrice" / SDI RS-90 "Firestorm"

Wheeled APC Shootout: WIC.31/8 "Gharial" vs. SDI Atpz 303 "Marauder" / Palmyrion CV.102-8

Tracked IFV Shootout: AWC.40 "Orcus-A" vs. Ionician MTV-09 / SDI AKpz 504 "Riptide" / HIA S-17 / SDI IfKpz 501 "Goliath" / Lyran LY224 "Sorcha"

[Marquesan]

Ultralight Fighter Shootout: APF.12/1R2 "Revenant" vs. HIA S30 "Sylrada" / HIA S34 "Jahus" / Lyran LY909 "Sparrowhawk"

Lightweight Fighter Shootout: LMF.20/2R2 "Spitfire" vs. Aerodyne F/A-38B Block 20 "Sentinel" / Aerodyne F-40A Block 20 "Whirlwind"

Air Superiority Fighter Shootout: ADF.35/1R5 "Divine Wind" vs. SDI F/A-36 "Seraph" / SDI F/A-36C "Sea Seraph" / Lyran LY910 "Shadowhawk"

Interceptor Shootout: VSI.36/2R2 "Headhunter" vs. Lyran LY908 "Warhawk"

Tactical Bomber Shootout: SSP.47/3R3 "Blackheart" vs. SDI A-20 "Ghost"

Strategic Bomber Shootout: ISB.183/3 "Erinys" vs. SDI B-3 "Wraith" / SDI RB-80C "Vampire" / Aerodyne B-90A "Condor"

Attack Helicopter Shootout: CIR.60R2 "Corax" vs. Aerodyne AH-79C "Anaconda" / SDI RAH-80 "Reaper"

Assault Helicopter Shootout: HKA.118R2 "Hellcat" vs. SDI MH-90 "Phantom" / Lyran LALY-215 "Reaver"

Strategic Transport Shootout: RST.260 "Derecho" vs. SDI MC-53 "Medusa"

VTOL Transport Shootout: GSU.270R2 "Strider" vs. Ionician TA-07

Reconnaissance Shootout: HAS.R48 "Meduza" vs. SDI SR-96A "Valkyrie"

[Marquesan]

Supercapital Shootout: HSC.239 Class - "Naga" vs. Lyran "Pijl" Class / Allanean "Quiver" Class Lyran "Longsword" Class / Allanean "Hood" Class

Corvette Shootout: BAC.59 - "Akurra" vs. Anagonian CPC-1115

Gunboat Shootout: SPG.35 - "Garuda" vs. Allanean "Needle" VSV / Anagonian CPCE-1106 / HIA 202 "Silverfish"

Fast Attack Submarine Shootout: FAN.78 Class - "Strix" vs. Anagonian SSNE-1112

Missile Submarine Shootout: SAN.161 Class - "Ravana" vs. Anagonian SSN-1110 / Allanean "Estoc" Class

[Marquesan]

Allanean T-100 "Warg" Main Battle Tank
8.7x3.8m, 49,000 Kilograms
Speed & Range: 90km/h / 500km
Amphibian? No
HP/Ton: 40.81
Protection: DU Composite Armor, Explosive-Reactive Armor, Soft Kill/Projectile Hard Kill Suite
Mobility: Diesel Powerplant & Geared Transmission w/ Steel Tracks
Weapons: 152mm Main Gun, 52 Calibers / Low Velocity, Manned Turret, Single Shot, 40 Km Max Effective Range
Secondary Weapons: 12.7mm Coaxial Gun, 30mm Remote Weapon Station, Gun-Launched Anti-Tank Missiles
Electronics: Visible + IR Sensors, EMP-Hardened Digital Fire Control & Short-Range Fire-Control Radar, 8,000 Meters Point Target Range

Ionician HTV-014 Main Battle Tank
7.2x3.8m, 48,100 Kilograms
Speed & Range: 70/43km/h / 600km
Amphibian? Yes, 4m Fording
HP/Ton: 33.26
Protection: Nano-Crystalline Steel Armor; Explosive-Reactive Armor, Thermal Signature Management
Mobility: Turboshaft Power & CVT Drive, Hydropneumatic Suspension, Interchangeable Tracks
Primary Weapon: 120mm Main Gun, Electric Stabilization, 8-Rd Burst or Single, 8,000 Meters* Max Effective Range
Secondary Weapons: 20mm Coaxial Gun, 12.7mm Commander's Gun + 4 ATGM's
Electronics: EMP-Resistant Digital Tank Management System, Multi-Spectral TV Fire Control, Adjustable LED Lighting

Lyran LY10 "Bloodhound" Light Tank
6.1x2.8m, 26,000 Kilograms
Speed & Range: 85/65km/h / 480km
Amphibian? Yes, 54 km/h Water Speed (29.16 knots)
HP/Ton: 30.77
Protection: Ti Inner Hull w/ Resinous Non-Explosive & Explosive-Reactive Armor, Projectile Soft Kill/Hard Kill Suite
Mobility: 8.0L Hyperbar/Electric Power & Drive w/ Optional Sand Filters, Titanium/Resin Tracks, Electric Waterjets, Under-Mount Suspension
Primary Weapon: 140mm Smoothbore Main Gun, 30 Calibers / Low Velocity, Lightweight Electric/Unmanned Turret, 5-Rd Burst or Single, 16 Km Max Effective Range
Secondary Weapon: 14.7mm MG, 2.2 Km Max Effective Range, Manned Weapon w/ Belt Feed, 700-Rds
Electronics: J-Band Fire-Control Radar, 42 Km Max Effectve, EMP-Hardened Semi-Autonomous Tank Management Suite

Marquesan TDA.25 "Ajax" Tank Destroyer, Amphibious
6.31x3.1m, 24,800 Kilograms
Speed & Range: 89/58km/h / 660km
Amphibian? Yes, 13 km/h Water Speed
HP/Ton: 34.6
Protection: SiC/TiB2/TiW Spaced Armor w/ Cu/Al Inner Hull, Active Laser Defenses, Thermal Signature Management
Mobility: 7.3L Diesel/Electric Power, Electrohydraulic Suspension, Electric Final Drive, Steel Cable-Tracks w/ Self-Cleaning Sprockets
Primary Weapon: 103mm Rifled Main Gun, 50 Calibers / High Velocity, Electrohydraulic Stabilization/Unmanned Turret, 4-Rd Burst or Single, 7,900 Meters Point Target Range
Secondary Weapon: 14.9mm Two-Barrel MG, 5.6 Km Max Effective Range, 660 RPM, Remote Turret, Electric Feed & Stabilization, 1,000-Rds
Electronics: 4-Color HD Thermal + LIDAR, EMP-Hardened Full-Tank Management Suite & Fire Control, Inertial Guidance, Encrypted Satellite-Independent Network


Evaluation Categories:

1) Technology & Design (e.g. Does its design architecture complement or perhaps even hinder its stated doctrinal role?)
2) Power Efficiency (energy efficiency in terms of range, speed & mobility)
3) Maneuverability Trials (Fording & amphibian ops, road handling, cross-country & adverse conditions)
4) Weapons Testing I Firing Range / Fixed Target (pop up targets & firing on the move, metered ranges w/ fixed targets)
5) Weapons Testing II Live Fire Exercise (Force on force, robotic command & control)
6) Doctrinal Analysis (e.g. Does its design lend itself to flexibility in a variety of scenarios, or not?)

[Marquesan]

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Shishini Botan Maneuver School. My name is Sergent-Chef Henri Aukai, while you are on the grounds of the Botan, your welfare is my responsibility."

SC Aukai took a moment to look over the crowd of correspondents. The reception hall they were standing in was awash in a sea of black polished stone. The building itself was a massive latticework of steel girders and thick glass, overlooking a massive grass parade field. At this time of year, normally temperate and rainy Taga turns snowy, so the parade field was dusted in freshly falling snow from a heavy grey sky. Aukai's green combat uniform and polished black boots were covered by a fuzzy charcoal grey field coat and he wore green nomex gloves, his arms at his sides. A closely-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, shiny black sunglasses and a neat Kepi Noir cocked low over his face, Henri Aukai was a veteran on his third enlistment, and his chiseled physique showed it. "If you are all ready to follow me out to the Parade Ground, we are about to begin."

Aukai waited for a moment for any inquiries before spinning on his heel and stepping off across the floor, his boots making a click against the stone surface. Once he heard footsteps behind him, he began to speak again, projecting his voice in the quiet reception hall. The group would be walking the length of the reception hall which had somewhat the shape of an upturned ship's hull, but made of thick, slightly green laminate glass. At the end of the building, a Dragoons flag ten meters wide and ten meters tall hung over a wide set of glass doors, opening up onto a section of the parade field which was teeming with tents, cameras, lights and propane space heaters melting the snow on the hibernating grass; stands and food trucks, in addition to static examples of the four tanks in competition. "You will see four tanks in competition on Day One." Aukai said, as the group stepped out onto the snowy ground and began to descend the hill toward the competition grounds. "The Allanean Tank you see to your far left there..." He said, pointing toward the largest of four tracked vehicles parked in a semicircle, which was teeming with people, children crawling on the tanks and representatives from each of the four manufacturers giving tours of the vehicles. "Is the Allanean T-100 Warg. It is the heaviest tank in today's competition." The group got a good look at the Warg tank as they reached the semicircle of tanks and the first row of tents. The Warg, painted a dark olive green would be easy to spot with its massive 152mm gun. A young boy sat straddling the gun's massive barrel midway down its length, his mother standing nervously below him although the child didn't seem to notice, or mind that he was eating his half moon pineapple pie several meters above the ground.

SC Aukai paused when the group was standing in front of all four, and turned around to face the group, with the tanks behind him. He picked up his voice so the group could still hear over the din of the crowd. "Next to the Allanean tank, you see the Ionician entry, the HTV-014. This is a well-balanced battle tank, too light for the heavier competitions, but here, we expect it to do very well." The Ionician tank was a stark contrast to the Allanean tank, painted in arctic camouflage and not forest green; its stealthy, angular shape, with a diamond-shaped barrel shroud and missile pods on both sides of its turret looked aggressive and modern, more compact than the Allanean tank, with a shorter barrel more suited to slugging it out in urban combat. "The Lyran Bloodhound you see here in Khaskan Snow Camouflage is just a little heavier than our own Ajax tanks." Said Aukai, his breath turning into steam as he spoke. He glanced over for a moment with a wry grin on his face as a pretty brunette in a white fur coat walked over to him, handed him a steaming cup of apple cider and planted a kiss on his cheek before skipping away. He took a sip before he spoke again. "We have wanted a Lyran tank to test for a very long time here at the Botan, we are eager to see how it does against the Ajax Tank Destroyer you see here, this one belongs to my own Headquarters regiment." The Ajax tank was painted a dusky grey/blue, its LED headlights left turned on for the static display. "Ajax has a smaller gun diameter than the other three tanks, but its velocity is much higher. Ajax is very fast, and light on its tracks. We think it is a good match for the other three. Before you take your seats, does anyone have any questions for me?" Sergent-Chef Aukai took another sip of his cider, scanning the group of foreign correspondents he had been tasked with.

[The Peninsular]

Oberleutnant Max Lamber looked around the group impatiently. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to have been the one at the event, but the Outpost had been having to deal with personnel cuts, seeing several higher ranking officers called back to the Federation - partially to serve in the ongoing campaigns against the Welded, and partially to oversee projects of some sort. Formally, he had been sent instead due to his 'cultural and linguistic skillset', but personally he found it much more likely that it was so Plisker and his men could have a few weeks of not having to deal with his lecturing.

Naturally, Max Lamber wasn't actually attending as Max Lamber - his uniform, a BDU with grey boots, a white and grey digital camo pattern and a grey beret, identified him as one 'Major Franz Jellico' of the 'Zneyvinder Federal Army'. He'd been given a makeover to appear roughly a Terran decade older and a self-taught crash course in Marquesan culture, or rather, what little was known about it. The Marquesans were still quite a black box, something which the Outpost was very uncomfortable with. His job, as such, was to gauge their political disposition and technological advancement in addition to attending the military competition.

So far, he'd kept to himself for the most part, listening to the 'Sergent-Chef' (seemingly an officer equivalent to a Captain or Major, or something in that area) intently. Oddly enough, though being an Army member of almost 10 years, the last time he'd been on an actual 'parade ground' had been almost six years back. Large-scale drills and parades in general were ironically becoming much rarer back home, replaced by more and more specialized training and war games in particular. Besides, Army infantry was anything but presentable anyway.

The sight of the parade ground itself filled Max with nostalgia. Only too well did he recall National Day celebration during his childhood and teenage years - climbing around in dropships, being allowed to sit in an IFV's commander spot and shooting a (statically mounted) rifle had been among the highlights of those events. The cool temperatures didn't faze him, as he was a native Firisian and had not brought a coat either way. Though as Aukai started talking again, Max quickly suppressed these memories to pay attention.

He observed the tanks as they were being introduced, and had to admit that he was fairly impressed. Many of their capabilties seemed exceedingly similar to pre-2100s tanks of the Peninsular principalities, in some respects maybe even surpassing them. One of the tanks, the Marquesan Ajax, even possessed a LIDAR system. 'Maybe the damn Aumanii should buy some of those next procurement cycle.', he thought to himself with some amusement, referencing the Federal Army's general disdain for anything the Sphere produced. With some of his thoughts still lingering on the tanks, he kept quiet when Aukai asked if anyone had any questions.

[Havensky]

Skyan Lieutenant Garcelle Talon was also on the parade ground next to her crew from Dauntless Company. The three of them stood at parade rest dressed in the trademark unfinished gray power armor of the Skyan King's Iron Guard. Their sky blue cloaks flapped in the wind as they listened to the Sergent-Chef.

The Skyan's helmets were off and slung to the side of their belts making it easier to identify the faces of the infantry. Talon's dark hair and green eyes gazed upon the various mechanical hardware with some bemusement.

"Where do you think they got a Jager from?" asked her gunner Corporal Tom Acer with a mischievous twinkle in his purple eyes. "Think they stole it? I hope they stole it."

""No idea, but remember you're not allowed to punch a Capper if you see one. We're just here to observe." replied Talon using the derogatory nickname for Kraven's capitol police.

"Can I shoot him instead? I have training you know."

"No."

Talon shook her head. Her gunner had done a superb job during the Battle of the Citadel and she was sure she was going to lose him after he wrapped up his non-commissioned officer training. They'd yank him out and give him his own squadron for sure. Alas, it was the way of Legion.

[Marquesan]

Aukai's watch chimed, and a few seconds later, an announcement came over loudspeakers mounted on poles dispersed throughout the parade ground . "Votre attention s'il vous plaît, votre attention s'il vous plaît. La démonstration est sur le point de commencer, veuillez vous asseoir." and then a second later in common English, "Attention please, attention please. The demonstration is about to begin, please take your seats." Aukai stepped over toward the trio of Skyans as the parade ground began to clear of civilians and a few Habu 4x4 tactical vehicles swept from east to west across the field, with soldiers making sure that no small children or pets remained straggling on the field the tanks would be maneuvering on.

Aukai addressed the group one last time as everyone made their way to the observation tower this group had been given. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Sangar to your left is our place for the remainder of the day. This is a live fire demonstration, the tanks will be firing live rounds at each other using automated piloting software, thanks to our Aldarminian friends." The observation tower was a very military looking construction of welded steel trellis frames and rock-filled HESCO bastions, open air at the top with flights of steel stairs up to the top on the inside of the tower. Once up on the Sangar floor, soldiers, or in this case civilians observing what is going on in the field below have a commanding view ten meters in the air. Aukai and the three Skyans were the last ones to climb the stairs. As they climbed, Aukai cleared his throat and spoke, in a low tone. "Lieutenant Talon; about the Jager... it's two, actually, one ended up a little better than a pile of parts." He placed his gloved, right index finger over his mouth as if to say Keep that under your hat, please while making eye contact with Garcelle.

As one looked across the parade field, a row of Sangar towers stretched across the open descents of a long hill running northward across the terrain, with the Reception Hall at the top, along with the rest of the Shishini Botan School's buildings. As one looked westward down the hill, roughly a kilometer away, the thick grasses gave way to a dense oak forest, which had dirt roads cut through it. At the end of each short dirt road, inside the forest were staging grounds for the competition, with a hangar and all the tools necessary to prepare the tanks for competition. One by one, the roar of tank engines starting could be heard from the quiet that had fallen over the parade ground, tiny specs of snow still falling lightly despite the morning sun burning away some of the cloudcover that had been hanging over Taga all morning.

"The first competition is a drag race, friends. At the sound of the buzzer, the tanks will set off down a two hundred meter road. They will be ranked according to which tank crosses the finish line first." Aukai looked over the group for a moment before turning around himself to watch, standing next to Lieutenant Talon. Looking over to Major Jellico with a nod. "How are you finding the competition, Sir? We were very pleased to learn the Federal Army had sent a representative."

At that moment, a buzzer sounded over the loudspeakers, and all eyes turned to four dirt roads, each of which had a soldier standing with a rope in hand, leading to a weight suspended from the top of a flagpole. Each flagpole had a checkered flag sitting at its base, waiting to be raised. The roar of three diesel engines and the whine of a jet turbine could be heard just a moment later, as four light tanks hurtled toward the parade ground.

[The Peninsular]

Climbing the tower some distance in front of Aukai and the Skyans, Lamber internally reminded himself of how much he hated heights - a trait not even the Federal infantry had been able to make him lose. At least, he thought to himself, there were none of his former squadmates there, who'd constantly remind him of it, and suppressed that line of thought. Just in time for his genetically enhanced hearing to pick something up from behind him. Aukai had mentioned something to the Skyans about the Kraven tank - a 'Königsjäger' - having been one of a pair. He assumed it had something to do with one of the Legionnaires' earlier comment, and decided to pay it no further mind. Who knew how they had acquired Kraven tanks, but very likely not through peaceful means.

Reaching the top of the tower, Lamber made sure to keep himself in the front row of observers. He was relatively short after all, barely standing at 1.7 meters tall. Hearing the noises of the Skyan infantry power armor behind him - sounding both foreign and yet familiar - he quickly moved to the side to make room for them. After scanning the vast parade ground for moment, his thoughts started to wander again as Aukai announced the first competition. 'A drag race, eh?', the Oberleutnant though to himself. He wasn't much into motor sport, but had heard of this new kind of race making its way into the Federation some time ago.

His line of thought was, again, interrupted by Aukai. "Very interesting, Sergent-Chef.", Lamber responded briefly to the SC's question. "The Federal Army does not possess a lot of tanks - too heavy for where we operate usually." This statement was both true and a lie - the Zneyvinder Federal Army didn't operate tanks because it did not exist, merely another front for the Outpost to explain away its military forces and keep up the image that an actual nation existed in the arctic. He straightened himself, with his hands behind his back and intently watched the field. It mildly amused him that he, a mere Oberleutnant, had been adressed as 'sir' just now by someone who likely ranked several steps above him. Nevertheless, his face remained serious, as if frozen by the cold temperatures.

[Kylarnatia]

Shishini Botan Manoeuvre School, The Marquesan State
Gholgoth

As the group was being led by SC Aukai first from the reception hall to the outdoors, and then up to the Sangar floor of the observation tower, an imposingly tall man dressed in a khaki dress uniform with crimson trimming and a matching overcoat with a gold-embroidered service cap, kept himself to the back of the group and patiently observed his surroundings with ease through his aviator shades as he stood over most of the others attending by a good foot or two, betraying his Kylarnatian origin for anyone who wasn't an avid military enthusiast and identified him first by his uniform. What wasn't immediately obvious to anyone who didn't already recognise him was his rank or station; he was clearly some form of officer by the uniform, but the overcoat concealed the awards and decorations across his chest. He was, in fact, one of the most highly decorated soldiers in the Caesar's Imperial Army, and one of the most senior officials in the Caesar's Imperial Armed Forces. He was none other than Dux Imperator Tertius Atilius, the First Lord of Caesar's Joint Chiefs of Staff.

While standing out in the frosted cold of the practice field, the roughly-hewn face of the Caesar's most senior warrior scanned the natural environment around them and the sensorial experience of that morning cast his memory back to the cold Mian mornings during his years of frontline service during the Mian Civil War almost forty years ago. He breathed calmly through his nose as all those memories flooded back, and as he noticed the young boy sat on the barrel of the Allanean T-100, he thought of his own young boy - a man now, with a family and service record of his own - who had been his reason to go and fight to begin with. The two's eyes met briefly, as the young boy became fascinated in seeing such a giant man, and Tertius smiled and gave him a little salute, which the boy returned over-enthusiastically. Through all his years of service - on the front lines in Mian, to his first command during the Evenguard intervention, and the bitter challenge of the Duskflower Rebellion in the Compact - Atilius had approached his job with utter dedication, but with a charm of character that had not been withered by the brutalities of war which he had witnessed in his time. Part of him mourned the fact that the young of today might not have the same privilege, with the growing ferocity of conflicts in today's world, least of all with the growing storm clouds over the Reich and its tendrils dug in deep across Gholgoth.

His mind snapping back to reality as the loudspeakers announced the upcoming live practice and his group starting to move, Tertius gave one last glance at the young boy as he jumped off the barrel of the T-100 into the arms of his nervous mother before making his way up the stairs. Where his mind had taken him was part of the reason why he was here, albeit in such a quiet manner: as part of the practices going on today, there had been a somewhat last minute addition to the line-up with the addition of a heavy chassis featuring a newly and up-to-this point secretly developed Kylarnatian weapon. The Imperium had a lot of notable ties and investment in the nobility of Marquesan, who were also consequently some of the biggest business leaders in the country, including its lauded arms manufacturers. These naturally led to consultation and eventual design partnerships as part of the Imperium's massive overhaul of the structure and technology of the Caesar's Imperial Armed Forces, which had been progressing steadily over the past fifteen years. A lot of these weapons were being designed to give Caesar's Legionnaires a significant edge on the Reich and other deadly foes, which required equally deadly force. The particular weapon being demonstrated here today was likely to be one of the first in operational history, and though most here didn't know it yet, this would be one of its first live-fire tests against an active target.

So important was this particular demonstration that Caesar had personally sent Tertius to observe, to report back on not only its effectiveness but also on the reaction of those gathered. It was a clear expression of Caesar's expectation of success, but also a more pointed gesture to those in the know that she was watching, even if not physically present. This was declared by the glistening medallion on Tertius' collar; Caesar's Mark, a platinum medallion embossed with the seal of the Silvanus, a falcon with wings outstretched and carrying the Sun. Anyone with diplomatic parlance knew this meant Tertius was to be treated as an extension of Caesar's own person, almost as an adopted son, in order so that he could express on the Caesar's behalf in more frank terms than even most senior diplomats could. Silvier had notably used her Mark during her reign so far more than her all her families predecessors combined, as part of her broader politik of being near omnipresent. Anyone who recognised this would know that Tertius could be an interface to her through him, and they knew that anyone who she wanted to talk to would see this and would talk to them. It was both subtle and direct.

Until then, the First Lord would just have to enjoy the show and be patient.

[Marquesan]

First to emerge from the cover of the forest was the green Allanean Warg tank, just a moment later, the dusky blue Marquesan Ajax appeared on the field. A few moments later, the Lyran Bloodhound and Ionician HTV-014 cleared their respective finish lines. All four tanks then lined up and paraded slowly before the row of Sangar towers, spinning their turrets while driving over a zig-zag course with moguls and ditches. Over this rough terrain, the tanks showed some of their maneuverability to the crowd. Because it was first past the finish line, the Allanean tank earned the lead spot for the parade, but driving around tight corners and over sharp bumps, the almost 50 ton chassis settled and thudded along, making sharper turns and a great deal more noise at slow speed than the others in trail with its 2,000 horsepower diesel engine belching grey smoke into the crisp, snowy evening air. Just behind it, the Marquesan tank's electrohydraulic suspension compensated automatically for bumps and ditches; the turret of the Ajax tank could hardly be seen to move while the light chassis made smooth turns along the tight S-curves in the route. The Ajax tank sounded much more like a racing car than the other three, its supercharged Boxer-8 engine whining and burbling along over the obstacles, sounding like it wanted to go much faster, and looking settled. The Lyran Bloodhound, running in low-power mode without its sand filters on the snowy grass and sticky black mud was less outside its ideal than the Allanean tank, its hydropneumatic suspension cushioning the jarring bumps better by virtue of the much lighter Bloodhound chassis and its resin-coated tracks moving more or less silently across the field. At the back of the pack, the HTV-014 painted in contrasting white, black and grey whined through its muffler, its turboshaft engine creating a faint column of steam from the rear of the tank in the cold winter air despite its exhaust gas mixer providing considerable cooling.

Announcements began in French and English simultaneously from different loudspeakers, describing the tanks, their statistics, points of manufacture and other relevant facts. While the presentation was underway and the results of the race recorded, Aukai glanced at his digital watch, which flashed a message to him. He cleared the message, and took a step backward to fall into a line with Tertius Atilius without drawing undue attention, his hands folded behind his back. "Long days and pleasant nights." He said, in a somewhat hushed tone, his eyes on the tanks but speaking to Atilius. "I have just been informed that She sent you personally; it seems Nuku Hiva just saw fit to inform us here in Taga that you had already arrived, or I would have met you at the airfield; I'm very pleased you made it. Is there anything you require?" It was at this moment that a careful observer might have noticed that the Oni Kabuto mask of the elite Chausseurs Speciale was embroidered in black on his green shirt lapels and not the Dragoon's seal for the school they were standing on the grounds of; this meant that Aukai's assignment to the competition was almost purely a diplomatic one and that he was sent specifically to attend to this international crowd; his polish and poise might have made one think he had royal blood, but, here, one could never be sure, especially after the civil war.

As the four tanks had finished the course of curves, ditches and moguls, the line of fading sunlight finally crossed into the trees, casting the parade ground in magnificent dappled golden sunlight, with snowflakes still falling. The tanks separated and dashed across the parade field to opposite corners of the treeline. The tanks turned on their headlights, so that everyone could see the locations of the four armored vehicles. At this point, a 4x4 Habu scout vehicle towed a steel target, shaped like a tank and painted bright white into the center of the field, a pair of bright spotlights keeping the target illuminated. Aukai spoke up so the group could hear him. "Tonight, the tanks will be firing live high explosive rounds, first stationary and then while moving. Tomorrow morning, after the amphibian trial, they will be firing at each other. Ladies and gentlemen, I need you to don the hearing protection provided to you at the door." He said, installing noise-canceling earbuds in his ears. "Questions?" At the moment he asked, the four tanks all fired battlefield lasers at the white steel target, allowing their targeting computers to calculate range.

If there had been any questions, there wouldn't have been time to ask, because the first round fired came from the T-100 Warg. The 152mm gun made a tremendous sound, the flash from the cannon firing lit the field for a moment and just a moment later, the white steel target was wreathed in flame, black smoke and sparks that went trailing off into the fading light. The thick steel rang like a bell and the exploding round, which impacted high and right on the target sent a shock through the stands and the Sangars that was almost too loud for comfort. The massive 152mm round tore a hole in one side of the target, which caused all the gaps in the tank-shaped target to fill with fire; an eerie sight to say the least as the ground all around the target kicked up with shrapnel impacts. Next to fire was the Ajax tank, the eerie green flash of its propellant and the blue/white flash of the high speed fin-stabilized dart round it fired made a terrific tearing sound. The round punched through both sides of the steel target's center practically instantaneously, wreathing the white target on all sides with white-hot flame for an instant, as the whole steel target shook on its towed frame. Third to fire, the stubby recoil-compensated 140mm gun on the Lyran Bloodhound fired, belching fire from the front and the rear of the gun, casting an eerie flash of light onto the forest behind it. The crowd could hear the sound of its ammunition whistling through the air for an instant before it impacted, low on the target and blasting a wide hole in the target and sending sooty brown smoke and shrapnel flying through the interior of the target and scorching the outside of the target which burned for a few moments. The final round of the evening fired came from the HTV-014, hitting center left with its 120mm cannon, which collapsed one side of the target, the steel plates breaking free of their welds and falling shattered to the ground, heavily. A cheer went up in some of the bandstands as a 10x10 fire truck trundled out onto the field to extinguish the burning target, and the tanks withdrew down their respective dirt roads toward their maintenance crews.

Aukai removed his hearing protection as he spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, you may remove your ear protection. Tomorrow morning there shall be much more to see. For tonight, you may retire to your hotel accommodations, but I have been given leave to take those willing to get a drink. Anyone interested?"

[The Peninsular]

The Oberleutnant couldn't help - again - to find appreciation for the foreign tanks. Of course, they were nothing like the ones he was used to fighting beside. Federal tanks usually ignored most terrain, crushing it under their threads and brute-forcing their way through with sheer engine power and torque, using their grav-assist modules if in danger of getting stuck.. The Gothic tanks, on the other hand, proved to be quite apt at weaseling their way through. Lamber grinned slightly - ironically, all of them were exponentially louder than their equivalents in the Federal ground forces, despite all being much, much lighter. By comparison, even the massive fusion-electric engine of a 110-ton Ivileo tank would seem almost silent.

The live-fire performance was the main event he'd been looking forward to. Especially the thunderous 152mm gun of the Allanean Warg was a sight (and sound) to behold, the shockwave bringing up memories of live-fire drills. For a second, he wished Federal vehicles had such an oomph to their guns - the loudest sound of a CAHT's gun when firing would be the rails discharging and the shell's sonic booms, which all in all sounded comically high-pitched in comparison to weapons such as these. He was still distracted, watching the burning target, when he heard Aukai's proposal to go for a drink.

"Certainly.", he told the Sergent-Chef, quietly thought to himself. 'Might finally get something I can actually taste, then.'

[Marquesan]

Silver Strand Beach, Taga Harbor,
City of Taga, Amirantes Prefecture, Marquesan.
Local Time: 0630 Hours.

Sunrise had just begun to burn off the cloudcover when the first members of the competition staff gathered on the beach to conduct a last-minute evaluation of the conditions of the harbor. Aukai walked along the waterline smoking from a pipe, dressed in a long military peacoat over his green Class-B dress uniform, a uniform shirt tucked into dress trousers with ranks and awards embroidered on in black, the brushed wool fibers of his coat glistened in the morning light. It had rained all night and the temperature had hovered just above freezing, producing thick fog which the warmth of the sun had begun to lift. The sky was clear that morning, but the damp sand crunched soggily underfoot and everyone's breath left vapor trails in the chilly air.

"In the night, the cloudcover we had hoped to see lift has finally cleared. I think the sea looks calm enough, are they ready on the island?" Aukai spoke to Sergent-Chef Vesper walking next to him. Vesper was a few years older than Aukai and of darker skin, with deep blue/black Ta Moko tattoos on his face and neck. Vesper was a mountain of a man, where Aukai looked in contrast lithe and limber. Vesper nodded, speaking with a deep baritone. "Yes, Mont Sant Michel reports back that the seas look calm enough there too; green flag on the beach. This two-way race between the Ajax and Bloodhound looks to everyone else like an easy win for the Lyran tank because of its speed, but tell me, Aukai, are you not a little concerned about the power of those waterjets on such a vehicle?"

Aukai took a long drag from his wooden pipe, nodding his head as he held his breath for a moment before releasing the smoke in a great plume. "Vesper, I tell you truly, if all four Bloodhounds make it across all eight thousand meters of that sea out there, I'll buy you dinner. I'll tell you something else, I'm very certain there's a few Ajax crews at Sant Michel this morning that are damn grateful they're not gonna be in that tank. That water is cold as hell."

Aukai glanced over at an iceberg, floating just outside the harbor, upon which a flock of seagulls had descended, feeding on something dead Aukai couldn't make out, thinking about pulling the field binoculars from the pouch on his hip, but deciding not to. The two of them walked in silence for a moment as they passed a crowd of onlookers moving toward the bandstands set up along the beachfront, with propane-fired space heaters between them and buzzing orange/yellow sodium arc lamps on tall poles driven by diesel generators thrumming along quietly in the background.

Aukai's watch beeped. "Oh-seven-hundred. You ready?" Aukai said to Vesper, extending his right arm. "Yes. Good luck, Aukai. Don't let the diplomats beat you to death with questions." Vesper said, grasping Aukai's forearm and looking him in the eyes. Aukai returned the symbolic embrace.

"You're the one who needs the luck, my friend, you're probably going to be fishing tanks out of Taga Harbor until New Year's." Aukai chuckled, as he split off for the Sangar tower for foreign dignitaries and Vesper took off at a clip toward a helipad, upon which a Corax helicopter was spinning up its rotors, waiting to take him across a not-so-narrow strip of water to Mont St. Michel, an island at the entrance to Taga Harbor.

On the beach at Mont St. Michel, four Marquesan Ajax tanks and four Lyran Bloodhound tanks were being readied for the Amphibian trial. St. Michel had been a fortress island since antiquity, with a massive five-pointed coastal defense fortress hewn from the island's natural granite in the early 1800s. Today it was most commonly used to conduct amphibious landing training; the deep water between Mont St. Michel and Silver Strand Beach was too deep for the Ionician tank and so the Allanean and Ionician tanks waited in a clearing just beyond the beach for the other two competitors to arrive. From the tower, diplomats could clearly see the beach and the island beyond from one side and the grassy clearing where the live fire trial would occur from the other. Inside the sangar, a propane space heater kept everyone warm, and waitstaff dressed in black chef's coats and white gloves served hot cider, tea and coffee, along with small semi-circular pies with various fillings kept hot over a flame heater. Aukai set his pipe down at the bottom of the staircase as he adjusted his coat and jogged up the staircase into the tower. He took a cup of black coffee, holding it in both hands as he looked over the beach.

Vesper waved to Aukai in the tower as his helicopter took off, the side door open as the pilot tilted his craft toward the island, the distinct staccato chatter of its coaxial rotors fading off into the distance.

[Havensky]

"Man, I'm cold just looking at that lake. Why can't we ever go someplace nice for our little field trips?", remarked Acer as he stood in the observation seats for the amphib trials.

"Didn't you serve in the Polars as a driver? I thought you would have gotten used to the cold?", replied Talon without looking at him.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Wind cutting through your face, fingers numb, the temps cold enough to make the waves freeze in place. Sure, lovely spot to be sure."

"Didn't they give you cold weather gear?"

"In negative 32 C? Forget about it. I never want to see another snowflake again."

[The Peninsular]

Lamber regarded the waters with contempt. "Water", one of his Fenvarian friends had once remarked only slightly in jest, "is the mortal enemy of the Federal Army." He wasn't wrong - no Peninsularian Army vehicle was amphibious. After all, neither Firis nor Liaso had a lot of areas with rivers or lakes, and those few areas were generally sprawling with industrial-strength bridges. When presented with an obstacle such as a river, Federal vehicles could only hope to call in engineer support or attempt to wade through it (if it was shallow enough). Any unlucky infantry on foot would have to walk along the bottom, since swimming in an ASEP suit was all but impossible.

Conversely, the temperatures continued to not bother him. He was, again, wearing his white-grey BDU, with thin gunner gloves and the same beret. He smiled slightly as the Skyan soldier came to talk about the temperatures. Then again, in minus 32 degrees centigrade, even he would have to wear cold weather gear (which more often than not just meant infantry suits, which all contained temperature control units).

[Marquesan]

Mont St. Michel Citadel, Taga Harbor.
Amirantes Prefecture, Marquesan States

Vesper's Corax helicopter's coaxial rotors drummed a staccato beat in the air as it took off for the mainland, leaving the Sergent-Chef standing on the beach between a Marquesan TDA.25 "Ajax" Amphibious Tank Destroyer and a Lyran LY10 "Bloodhound" Light Tank. While both tanks had been fitted specifically for the competition with remote driver, gunner and loader systems by the Aldarminian contractors that were currently running final checks, but there was still a fair crowd of technicians, soldiers and test officials standing on the beach. Mont St Michel had been a fortress since before the age of steam; it was a massive, five-pointed granite monolith with a wide internal yard and a single opening, facing the city and not the sea. In this grassy opening, which gave way to gravel which gave way to the cold grey/green ocean and eight kilometers of choppy open ocean between the island and the shore. Once the helicopter had cleared and the only sounds that remained were the wind and the surf, an Ajax-B tank sitting in the center of the fortress courtyard elevated its mortar barrel and fired.

The tremendous concussive shock of the mortar firing into the air created a ring-shaped cloud that shot out in all directions from the barrel. The massive 144mm illumination round fired whistled as it spun, flying almost vertically, the round arching high over the strait between the island and Silver Strand beach. When it burst, the mixture of magnesium and white phosphorous created a brilliant light, and a glowing white cloud that hung in the air like an unearthly thing, giving off a pallid white, flickering light. Once the round burst, the two Ajax and Bloodhound tanks turned over their starters. Both vehicles roared to life with eight cylinder engines; the Lyran tank's "Hyperbar" whistling to life with the tiny gas turbine in the exhaust path sucking in air to a high-pitched howl offsetting the rumble of its diesel engine in high-power mode. Its resilin-coated titanium tracks were turning quietly just a few moments later under electric power, the snow-camouflaged Bloodhound tank raced toward the water.

The Ajax tank's supercharged Boxer engine snarled as it surged forward, the telltale whine of the screw-driven supercharger and the snorting sound of the eight small throttle bodies in the intake path gave the tank an animal like, plaintive sound. The Ajax tank's throttle response was extremely sharp, its exhaust note warbling with every tiny change in throttle input from the remote driver, standing in an observation tower on the innermost battlement of the granite fortress. Surging toward the beach with all hatches down, the dark blue/grey Ajax tank elevated its 103mm rifled gun to maximum elevation and extended its optronics mast, which gave the remote driver an extra meter of visibility for amphibious operations. The Marquesan tank hit the water at full speed, the driver changing gears between fourth and fifth with sharp, precise electronically-controlled shifts, using its treads to propel it into the water. The Ajax tank took off at a moderate pace, making a straight bee-line for the crowd of onlookers standing on Silver Strand beach.

When the Lyran tank hit the water, it paused to move several plates with hydraulic motors, which whined and whirred to life, shuddering in the infamous Gothic cold. Chines moved in place over the tracks, waterjet propulsors which were shrouded in land operations moved out into the water, and a bowplane pushed forward from the hull. When the electric propulsors turned on, the Lyran tank was already behind the Ajax tank by a hundred meters. The two teams on the beach at Mont St. Michel were cheering and whooping as the Ajax pulled away, but then, the driver in charge of the Lyran tank pushed the throttle to its maximum. The two electric waterjets sucked in water at a massive rate, creating two massive wake tails behind it. The tank lurched forward in the water, the rear-mounted propulsors causing the weight of the tank to shift and the bow to lift up out of the water. The Bloodhound tank created a tremendous disturbance in the water as it shot forward, accelerating with the force of nearly 3,000 horsepower.

The TDA.25 Ajax was quickly overtaken by the Bloodhound, a massive wake washing over the hull of the Marquesan tank for a moment, which rocked the tank back and forth, but its sealed hatches held and the tank destroyer continued on toward the beach. The Lyran test team cheered, but then the Bloodhound's left side clipped a low rock beneath the tide which had just peaked thirty minutes prior. This upset caused the driver to cut the throttle to the waterjets for a moment, and when he resumed, the hull lurched forward again, this time tilting too far back. A gasp was heard both on the beach and on the island as the Lyran LY10 rolled over in the choppy sea, its balance upset and the extreme power of its electric waterjet engines unbalancing the 26 ton tank in the water. As it flipped onto its top, the turret fell from its mounting ring, causing the tank's interior to flood with seawater. In just an instant, it was all over for the first Bloodhound in the competition. Horns sounded on both beaches as the Ajax tank passed the point where the Lyran tank had just sunk, continuing on in high gear toward the shoreline with the wide open throttle on the tank the only sound to be heard over the lapping waves and the wind. The silence served as poignant reminder that had it not been for the remote driver systems, lives would have just been lost.

On the beach, in the foreign press Sangar, Aukai chuckled softly to himself as others gasped, shaking his head as he watched the Bloodhound sink not unlike a speedboat hitting too high a wave. He unsnapped the pouch holding his binoculars on his left hip. Picking them up and putting them up to his face, he focused not on the Ajax approaching the beach, but on the point from which it had departed, on the island. There stood Sergent-Chef Vesper, lighting a cigarette. He looked toward the Sangar, and seeing the telltale flash of binoculars, clenched a fist, and bit his thumb in the direction of the beach. The Ajax tank made it safely to the beach; at roughly that moment, a new Lyran Bloodhound was being rolled in from reserves to Silver Strand on a "lowboy" trailer behind a WIC.31 "Gharial" 8x8 Munitions Hauler. A few moments of cheering for the Ajax TDA which had made the crossing without incident were heard, but now the competition was about to enter into a new phase.


Silver Strand Beach, Shishini Botan Maneuver School,
City of Taga, Amirantes Prefecture, Marquesan.

The TDA.25 made its way past the stands and into a narrow path into the woods. Beyond a short space of densely-packed old growth trees, their canopies covered in snowfall, was a wide clearing, surrounded with Sangar towers and brightly lit. The tower Aukai and the others were standing on had a clear view of both the beach and the clearing, in perfect position for the demonstration. High above the clearing were massive light poles, vaulted hundreds of meters into the air, their white xenon arc lamps burning brightly for this competition, even in broad daylight. In the clearing, just as before, the four tanks stood in opposite corners. Ajax was second to last to arrive, the Ionician HTV-014 and Allanean T-100 stood at the far side of the clearing on opposite ends, facing inward. The Ajax tank took up a position just below Aukai's Sangar; last to arrive, the replacement Bloodhound painted identically to the first one fired up its engine, crawled off the trailer, past the stands and into the clearing, taking up the last available corner.

Aukai turned to speak to the group, but was cut short by the first pop-up target in the center of the clearing shooting up. Without any fanfare, the four tanks began firing simultaneously with their secondary weapons systems. In an instant, this competition had turned from a hard bittersweet moment, watching a tank sink in the freezing cold to an outright battlefield, replete with the chatter of automatic weapons. The T-100 Warg's 12.7mm coaxial gun and 30mm cannon sparked to life, sending glowing red tracers zinging downrange. The Ionician 12.7mm and 20mm guns both roared to life in similar fashion, bouncing white tracers off the target for easy identification. The dual-barrel 14.9mm machine gun on top of the Ajax tank barked at a steady 660 RPM, green tracers streaming from both barrels and the Bloodhound's 14.7mm machine gun began blasting away with yellow tracers at the white steel pyramid that had popped up in the center of the range. As soon as all four guns scored hits, the target popped down again and the four tanks stopped firing.

For an instant, there was an eerie silence as the thunder of the guns firing echoed through the forest. From the treetops, snow fell down and birds flew skyward. Between the Ionician tank and the Allanean tank, a target appeared, forcing all four tanks to adjust fire. The Marquesan tank's lightweight oscillating turret was the first to move quickly enough to acquire the target and fire without the tank needing to move a centimeter. Suddenly, the air inside the Sangar changed from being ice cold to scalding hot, as the pressure wave from the 103mm gun's muzzle brake passed the onlookers. The green tracer round used by the Marquesan gun made an eerie whistle as it tore through the chilly morning air, hitting the square steel target slightly off center and showering a dense copse of trees in sparks and shrapnel, a black/brown cloud hanging around the target. A half second later, the Lyran 140mm gun, furthest from the target fired, followed by the Ionician 120mm cannon and the 152mm gun on the Allanean Warg. Suddenly the air was hot with tank rounds screaming through the air and the target was engulfed in flame, shrapnel, smoke and sparks. The ground around it kicked up as hypersonic fragments of shell and shredded target steel flew in every direction, many lopping branches from ancient trees that clattered to the ground behind the target, filling the air with the scent of freshly-cut pine and gunpowder.

At this moment, chaos erupted. Multiple targets appeared all over the clearing and, to avoid being hit themselves, the tanks had to move in a carefully-choreographed dance around the clearing, each armored vehicle moving in zigs and zags around targets many of which were now burning. In this free fire zone, each tank had 90 seconds to score as many hits on as many static targets as possible while moving on bumpy, unimproved, snow-covered terrain. In many cases, a tank was only a few meters away from rounds impacting a target; the timing required great precision from the drivers and the tanks. The sound of whistling rounds and shrapnel, the dense smoke forming over the clearing, the chatter of smaller guns and the thuds of heavier ones, the whining of tank treads and the snorts and growls of their engines made the exercise all too real. Once the klaxon horns sounded again, a five minute cooldown period was announced and the guns fell silent. When they sounded again, the tanks would be firing on each other, so last minute checks were being made, the tanks were reloaded with full ammunition and the compeition ground was cleared of debris, already looking far more like a wartorn hellscape than the orderly gunnery range it had been only moments before.

The competition had already had some harrowing moments, but now, the four light tanks were about to start fighting each other. Aukai's eyes scanned his crowd of foreign correspondents for reactions as he lit his pipe.

[Havensky]

Acer watched the Bloodhound sprint into the water and shook his head.

"Either that Bloodhound is far more waterproof than I thought or the driver's feeling a little frisky."

Talon turned still watching the race, "What makes you say that?"

"They're taking it too fast. They're gonna either go too fast and take too much water or hit something."

Thunk

Acer's head perked up as he watched the Lyran tank bob up of the water after hitting the low rock. As the tank flipped over, he took a small little bow at Talon.

"Just so."

[The Peninsular]

"Now this is more like it.", Lamber remarked to the Skyans and Aukai as the firing of the tanks ceased. Unperturbed by the shockwaves and noise levels, he mustered the four tanks once again, now being reloaded and checked for the following battle. The Ionican HTV was his favorite so far, if only due the fact that its construction reminded him of the SSPz infantry fighting vehicles he himself had served on over the years.

"Care to make a bet?", he asked in the direction of the Skyans and Aukai, before realizing that this may not have been the best proposition. Many an army forbade its soldiers from doing any such thing while on duty, so he quickly followed up with: "No money, of course. I'm putting a round of drinks on that HTV coming out in first place."

[Erjunhuf]

Shishini Botan Maneuver School
Amirantes Prefecture, Marquesan
Gholgoth

Toward the back of the seated group, Capt. Elara Corvin walked over to her entourage, cups of coffee in hand, mentally preparing herself for another day of ground vehicle demonstrations. A member of Erjunhuf's elite special forces, SWORD, Elara had been assigned as the security liaison, but took no particular interest in the intricacies of vehicular design and function, at least beyond any active mission she was assigned. This might as well have been shore leave for her; despite the live-fire element to the demonstrations, Elara did not anticipate any actual trouble at this function, particularly one surrounded by friendly and neutral delegates. Fortunately for her, that likely meant overheated coffee was the biggest danger she faced until she was back in the Elder Republic.

Not that my sidearm would do much good to stop an errant tank shell. Elara thought to herself as she made her way back through the snowy grounds to her group.

The first person she reached, an unassuming man wearing a plain grey overcoat, was Commandant-General Artur Bolton. Five years ago, Artur Bolton -- only a colonel at the time -- had been a rising star in the GAER, with a knack for the intricacies of air cavalry warfare and beloved by the men of his division for his willingness to share their dangers and lead from the frontlines. That same mentality had led Bolton to personally lead his division into fierce amphibious and urban combat in Yalos during an Erjunhite military intervention, right up until the moment a piece of shrapnel the size of a quarter went through his knee. Critically wounded, he'd managed to drag himself into a nearby ditch, stop the worst of the bleeding, and continue to direct the division's advance for two hours, even providing covering fire for nearby fireteams as they'd cleared nearby buildings. The thought of leaving the field with his men still in danger never entered Bolton's mind; it wasn't until a superior officer had ordered a SWORD unit -- Elara's team, as fate would have it-- to remove him from the front that he had finally consented to evacuation, and even then, only after he'd ensured his men had achieved strong enough positions to safely endure counterattacks.

After the Yalosii dust had settled, the Elder Republic had once again retreated from international intervention, favoring instead her own domestic pursuits, but even an insulated country had need of talented fighting men. Although his shrapnel wound guaranteed that Artur Bolton could never again walk without the assistance of a cane, his superiors recognized his wartime experience made him an invaluable resource to the next generation of officers. Accordingly, he'd been promoted and made Commandant-General of the Army War College. His Taktyce, Elara understood, was now required reading for Erjunhite officers, even among the General Staff.

Despite his importance, Elara had been confused why SWORD, rather than conventional GAER personnel, would assign a member for a simple vehicle demonstration on the general’s behalf, until she had been briefed on the other person in this party. Major Eorhic Rasanen, ostensibly just an unassuming tank commander, was technically not even her countryman, even if he was technically kin. Hailing from the Melegean exile-state in Varathron, the so-called "Third Empire" of Melegea, Erjunhuf and Melegea had been separated since the end of the Civil War, almost 500 years ago. It had taken decades of diplomacy for the two countries to agree to co-exist peaceably with the other, and centuries for the Empire to consent to a political and military as the junior partner. With an equipment review in order for their “ally”, Erjunhuf had requested the Third Empire send a military delegate to observe vehicle trials in Marquesan. The Empire had agreed; what the Elder Republic had not anticipated, however, was that the delegate the Empire assigned would also turn out to be their crown prince.

Needless to say, a conventional security detail, even at a friendly demonstration, would not suffice.

For royalty, Elara had decided that Eorhic was alright enough. He certainly had a high opinion of himself, but he was also willing to admit when he was incorrect or misinformed during his debates with General Bolton on the flight over to Taga. His military service was even admirable -– his insistence on serving in an armored reconnaissance brigade, despite his upbringing, on the grounds that no true leader could ever hope to command from the rear had endeared him to the general early on –- and once he’d loosened up a little, he had fit right in with the republican delegation.

Realizing that she’d been lost in thought for too long, Elara looked down to see that she was not the only one. Both General Bolton and Major Rasanen had been fixated on the Bloodhound, now sinking into the bay, as well as the Ajax, nonchalantly cruising its way to an easy victory. Neither of them had even noticed her approach; not unreasonable, given the calamitous crash the Lyran tank had just undergone. Elara firmly pressed the cup of coffee into the general's hands, snapping him out of his own thoughts. "Just making sure you weren’t daydreaming, sir." Elara commented wryly, and handed the other cup to Eorhic as she resumed a standing position behind the two of them.

"Just taking mental notes, Captain." Artur replied gruffly, taking a long drink before continuing on, eyes never leaving the demonstration field as the tanks were outfitted for the next round of testing. "Remembering the particulars will be critical for making any sort of equipment recommendation for our allies in the Empire, let alone with our own General Staff. The amphibious capabilities of tanks are not to be underestimated in this day and age, you know.”

“Of course, General.” Elara responded simply, hoping that would be enough to satisfy the general from starting another lecture.

"By the gods, I didn't expect Marquesan to be so cold." Clearly grateful to be drinking something hot, Eorhic interjected before Artur had a chance to press his point any further. "I thought you said this country was warm?"

"Well, it has been a few years since I was last here," Artur admitted with a slight chuckle as he turned to face the crown prince, "but perhaps it’s not that Marquesan is cold, but that your nation is so far south? I had hoped that our kin to the south had not lost their tolerance for the cold so quickly.”

Before Eorhic could retort, the tanks began their live-firing demonstrations, once again engrossing the attentions of both men. Elara, for one, was just happy that the shooting had started. Listening to the nearby offer of a friendly wager on the outcome, she was half tempted to jump in, but decided to wait and see if SC Aukai would put an end to any betting before it began.

Besides, she knew from personal experience not to bet against Marquesan equipment in the field.

(Still shaking off the RP rust. Good to be back.)

[Aldarminia]

First Day, Early Morning, Before Start

“So yes, all systems are operating well within their margins of error and the performance reduction we saw due to that bug only seriously affected the Warg during maneuvers, but,” blowing out smoke to add to the fog of the evening air and pausing for effect, “As the test demonstrated, the harm done was negligible.”

Nodding to the Aldarminian robotic systems analyst, one of dozens currently assisting the Matrix, Zhokkhe Ruslanov remarked, “Just shy of perfect, eh?”

The analyst smiled and nodded herself, “Yes, sir. The customer is certainly satisfied, and we are way ahead of schedule on wrapping up on final program tests for the rest of the performer vehicles.”

“Great,” stomping out his own cigarette, “Once the boys in marketing get their hands on all this data, they’ll be able to work up some excellent promotionals that I’m sure will get sales booming on VASS.”

Ruslanov shook the analyst’s hand and thanked her for the word before departing for the glorified taxi Habu. As it drove down the track, he imagined how it was back home and remembered the damned weather report. Stormy. And so, in his mind, drops of rain streaked across the Habu’s windows. Soon, he thought. He’d be home.

The vehicle came upon a hill, and as the sky sunk beneath the trees so too did his stomach. The text meekly read, “Problem.”

The driver grunted through a bump, and hundreds of days could have blurred through each other, for all Zhokke knew, as it all rolled down hill. As it always did.

The storm had delayed most of the flights from the Sredigotov, including those carrying the bulk of the invited Aldarminian nobility and required imperial observers. So now a crisis brewed on the homefront. Arrangements were being made for the Home Branch to take over Product Presentation for the domestic market, but while that would rectify the problem of the nobles missing out on the first night of the show, it would still cost Ruslanov’s own Branch a head or more. Though Ruslanov could neither predict the weather or control it, the way of the world was that his lot, the boi[i]s in the field, was expendable. He had seen it before. Darker times, surely, but it was not an unfamiliar problem to creep up so often.

[i]Second Day

The night before’s drinks weighed heavy on Ruslanov’s skull, and each step he took under the glare of the morning sky sent another throb through his eyeballs. Making his way through the gathering crowd on the grounds, he spied Charles, his partner-in-crime during last night’s sorrow-wallowing and vent-drowning.

“Long time, no see, Zho.”

“Heh, how are you feeling?”

The Marquesan shrugged smile, “I’m fine. Told you you should have stuck with the wine.”

Zhokke cursde in Aldarminian and scoffed, “Screw you and your wine. I want to dunk my head into that water right now.”

A light point to the Taga cued Charles’ chuckles. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Probably best not to.”

Charles’ head and thumb gestured backward toward the crowd clambering into their seats, “Who’s that? One of yours?”
Charle’s thumb directed Ruslanov’s eyesight to a particular cluster of about three dozen individuals all vaguely shadowing and conversing within each other. There was a clear center to the group that seemed to guide its direction from within, like a driver in a car. That center was a man dressed head to toe in gilded pomp. Chains of jewels and precious metals dangled from a neck burdened by a thinly-crowned astrakhan and danced their way over the wrinkles of a loose-fitting kaftan covered by cherkesska and medallions. Emanating from this center was a variety of similarly-but-less-extravagantly dressed attendants and children. While the central figure was boisterous and greeted everyone that got near his retinue, the children mostly shied away, and the attendants politely and quietly bowed.

“Ah yes,” Zhokke answered, “That is indeed an Aldarminian,” taking note of the probable smell of smoke the group likely carried with it.

Charles nodded, “Figured. Came about an hour before you, very early. Haven’t shut up since. Well, the big guy hasn’t.”

Big was an understatement. The man-at-the-center may have been dressed immaculately, but his paunch, visible as an aggressive silhouette even under his loose clothes, removed all sense of grace, replacing it with cheap decadence. An hor d'oeuvre clenched between his fingers slothed its way into his mouth, impeding a breath and a laugh for a moment that seemed a little too dangerously long to Zhokke’s eyes, but within moments of a lip-closure and a gulp, the beast was back to chattering.

“That,” Ruslanov struggled to find the right words before settling on a couple with a wry smile, “That, Charlie, is a noble whale of the Aldarminian old money reborn.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed, Uvor Nazarosky. One of the last trueborn.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, most Aldarminian nobles nowadays are house adoptees to keep the lines running or service chumps to keep people in line. But Nazarosky was born a noble and escaped both the Usurper’s and the Hammer’s purges. Basically means he inherited everything from his family, and there’s fuck all the Emperor can do about it since about the only thing you can pin on the guy is his obesity and his avarice.”

“High roller?”

“We call them whales, but yes. The Nazaroskys are Mineholders. And not just any Mineholders either. During the Revolution, they managed to capture most of the Northern mineholds. They’re effectively rolling in it.”

Charles nodded but raised an eyebrow, “So what’s he doing here then? Thought the party was canceled, or did we get drunk for nothing?”

Ruslanov shrugged and laughed, “Unless he plans on buying one of the two largest enterprises in the Empire, I think I’m still a little fucked. And I don’t think he’s that loaded.”

“Ah, well,” Charles sighed, “Better luck next time, comrade.”

“Heh, hopefully.”

The events started soon after. For a brief moment, Ruslanov’s heart sank and his body shuddered uncontrollably as the Bloodhound began its descent into the water. What his Branch did not need, alongside the failure to deliver on a Product Presentation for an already-well-over budget project, was the abrupt failure of that project in Marquesan waters. Thankfully, a text on the mission work-chat alerted him to the “good news” about the tank, “Not our end, sir. That’s either driver error or endemic system failure. Lyrans can’t make tanks swim.”

Relief was just done washing over the Aldarminian when the sound of a dialect of his tongue interrupted the brief intermission before the shootout, “Mr. Ruslanov, I believe, my master would like to speak to you…”