Harrisopia-Traldonia Conflict

[Harrisopia]

King Theon Jadeous
Harrisopian Royal Palace
Conference Room
King Theon sighed as he watched everyone slowly get into their seats.
Meetings of any kind irked him profusely; late night meetings made him feel like a prisoner.
But the duties of a King are mandatory and meetings of emergency must be taken seriously.
"Your Highness, we have a worrying report from our Ambassador to Traldonia." announced Lawrence Baker, Minister of Defence.

Deadpan in looks and tone the King replied "Go on."

Gulping, Lawrence Baker spoke "The Traldonians have turned down your offer."
King Theon said nothing but simply stared back.
Nervous the Minister of Defence continued
"They feel that due to the location of the oil being where they consider their domain that-"

"Their domain?" the King said abruptly

Lawrence quickly spoke "Where they consider their domain Your Highness. They said that the Empire of Traldonia has claim to all lands and that they don't feel you have right to any percentage of resources in said lands."
"It sounds like the ramblings of a mad man Your Highness." He added
Pursing his lips King Theon mused in silence for a couple of minutes.
Finally making his mind up he declared "That oil was discovered by the Harrisopian Oil Recovery in an uninhabited land that has no association with Traldonia or any of its colonies. Our offer of 30% is more than generous considering it is more down to courtesy than anything. If this does not appease the Traldonians then let them know there will be no alternative offers. Tell Ambassador Campbell to make this clear to their representatives."

The King stood up, preparing to leave, when the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Danielle Shepherd chimed in "Your Highness, if I may?"
King Theon's eyebrows rose then he sat down again.

Seeing this as means to continue Danielle carried on "The Traldonians are a proud people. They see the world as their prize to claim. That land we found the oil in is approximately 79 miles from official Traldonian territory. As far as they are concerned. That makes it theirs."
The King's eyebrows rose once again
Danielle continued "What I am I trying to say Your Highness, is that no matter how illogical or ridiculous their claims may seem that is how they see it. That's their culture. Whether we like it or not. So simply telling them will do nothing to deter them."
King Theon considered this for a moment

"So what do you propose Danielle?" The monarch asked

Flushed at use of her first name, the Minister said immediately "I propose, Your Highness, that we prepare for more than just a simple dispute. I propose that we prepare for war."
Taken aback at that notion, King Theon stood, solemn for a moment.
The last time Harrisopia had experienced official war was over 30 years prior. The Harrisopian Civil War, that saw the death of his Grandfather Darius and the crowning of his father Alex.
Other than minor skirmishes outside of their borders, King Theon's country had known nothing but peace.
The thought of war scared him but he stood his ground.
Determined to show his strength, Theon nodded at his people "If war is what those mindless savages want my ministers, then war it shall be."
Without another word he left.

[The Free Fascist State of OklaTexas]

WHat's the tech level here? If it's 1890s to the present, I'm in.

[Harrisopia]

WHat's the tech level here? If it's 1890s to the present, I'm in.

It's pretty modern tech level I would say.
You're welcome to join in if you're interested

[Alexiandra]

Delos, the Fortress-City
Wednesday, 23rd November 2022
10:05am

They say that no fortress is truly impregnable. But Delos, the age-old citadel situated at the tip of Alexiandra's westernmost peninsula, was perhaps as close to impregnable as it was possible to get. Its strong natural harbour bristled with surface-to-surface and surface-to-air missile batteries, command bunkers, subterranean trenches, fortified weapons depots and radar apparata. The few civilian structures on the peninsula were scarcely distinguishable from their military counterparts - sturdy and bland of palette, they stood firm against all weathers. On the landward side, a ring of cliffs crowned with artillery, turrets, earthworks and armoured vehicles commanded a wide, waterlogged plain that had been intentionally deforested to deprive any approaching force of cover. Sturdy watchtowers scattered along the cliff summits provided unparalleled views of both land and sea, equipped as they were with powerful binoculars, telescopes and cameras. Down on the plain, amidst the pools of stagnant water and the ubiquitous mud, marines and army troopers conducted live-fire exercises and long marches.

For centuries, Delos had functioned as the nerve centre of the mighty Alexiandran Navy, the nation's oldest and most venerable armed force. It had never been taken, either by storm or starvation, despite several close calls during the great wars that had marked the dissolution of the Alliance of Grand Powers. Some quarters of the city still bore the scars of its last great battle, when a beleaguered garrison of government loyalists had held out against an overwhelming rebel force during the Civil War. Rocks chipped by bullets and debris, craters now barely perceptible against the muddy autumn earth, the occasional headstone or cenotaph - these were all that remained of warriors past.

Gazing out from the dock, General Baden was struck by the cold implacability of the sea. Slate-grey and tumultous, it rocked the small craft moored nearby to and fro, spraying a fine foam onto the flagstones where he stood. The horizon was barely visible, the water merging almost imperceptibly with the pitiless November sky. Somewhere out there, Baden knew, lurked the Fifth Fleet, one of the mightiest seaborne fighting forces in the world - but even this immense flotilla was insignificant compared with the vast and all-absorbing expanse of the ocean. Indeed, some of the fleet had been absorbed by the waves; a number of hunter-killer submarines prowled far out in advance of the main force, probing for enemy vessels.

The fleet had only departed a couple of hours ago - it would not reach its destination for another couple of days. And yet there was a taut sense of anticipation in the air, as he and his staff busied themselves with collecting intelligence and making final logistical arrangements. There had, as yet, been no official declaration of war. But everyone knew that Harrisopia, Alexiandra's oldest and closest ally, was rousing itself for armed conflict for the first time in years. And where the tiger went, the eagle usually followed. Last night, a confidential communique had arrived from the office of King Theon Jadeous himself, marked for President Montferrat's eyes only. An hour later, Baden and a handful of his peers had been airborne - headed to Delos, where they were to supervise Alexiandra's latest attempt at gunboat diplomacy.

This had not come as a total surprise. For weeks, there had been rumblings from intelligence about an oil dispute that could call into question the stability of Harrisopia's relations with Traldonia. President Montferrat and his cabinet had been quick to meet with King Theon, as well as senior Harrisopian military staff, to provide assurances of support. The Kingdom was Alexiandra's closest ally, both literally and figuratively, and the two nations had weathered many storms together. An extension of Harrisopia's power was, eo ipso, an extension of Alexiandra's own - or so the argument went.

For his part, Baden was a good soldier. He stayed well out of politics, and contented himself with serving, to the best of his ability, his nation's military interests. Today, that meant organising the largest expeditionary force Alexiandra had put forth for decades, and ensuring that it was ready to support Harrisopia's forces in securing the oil fields. The Kingdom would be taking the lead this time, and the Republic would stand ready to assist.

As he turned back towards the command bunker, Baden cast a contemplative look at the official communique in his hands. It read as follows:

Code: Select all

Official Communique from the Armed Republic of Alexiandra
November 22, 2022
20:00

To all it may concern,

The recent dispute between Harrisopia and Traldonia regarding possession of oil fields is a source of great disturbance to the sovereign people of Alexiandra. For years, peace has prevailed in our corner of the world. But Traldonia, with its truculence and greed, has refused a generous Harrisopian offer - an offer that the Kingdom was by no means obligated to make, and which would have averted this most serious of crises. By doing so, it has made clear its intention to forcefully oppose the exploitation of natural resources - resources not claimed under international law - by an Alexiandran ally. This cannot stand.

In the interests of stability between the great powers of our region, I have authorised the deployment of Alexiandran air and naval forces to the disputed region. Any attempt made by Traldonia to frustrate the extraction of oil resources will be met with overwhelming force. As always, the Alexiandran people stand ready to defend Harrisopia, their oldest and most trusted ally, with their lives.

Signed,

Harper Montferrat
President of the Alexiandran Republic

Despite his loyalty to the Harrisopians, whom he viewed as brothers-in-arms, Baden could not help but greet the last sentence with a shiver of apprehension. Whose lives, exactly, would be sacrificed? And how many?

The world would soon find out.

[Harrisopia]

Ambassador Delia Campbell
Harrisopia Embassy
Onasa, Capital of Traldonia

Hell hath no fury like a politician scorned Ambassador Campbell thought to herself as she took a sip of water just to take a break from what felt like a broken record rather than a conversation.

"Secretary Wilson, I really feel like this discussion is becoming pointless." Sighed the Ambassador

The Traldonian politician smirked
"Well at least we can agree on something today."

Exasperated Campbell quickly replied "I don't understand this. The King's final offer to your nation is not only generous and beneficial to both parties but it also avoids unnecessary conflict. Why must we insist on pushing these tensions further than we have to?"

Secretary Wilson scratched his chin lazily
"Emperor Rien II has made his views on the matter clear. Any resources found on Traldonian land is to be claimed by only the Empire of Traldonia. No one else."

Campbell gritted her teeth
"Show me a map that states the area the oil fields were found in are Traldonian territory? There has been no known period of habitation in said area at any point."

Wilson stared back at her with a look of pity but said nothing.
Taking this as a means to leave, the Ambassador stood up.
"It is sad that we could not come to a more mutually profitable solution but I will return to Harrisopia and relay your Emperor's message to King Theon Jadeous."

With a nod of courtesy, she turned to the door and saw her way was blocked by two security guards.
Feeling uneasy, Campbell looked back the Secretary, expecting an explanation.

Smiling sadly Wilson spoke up
"You will indeed send the Emperor's message to King Theon Ambassador but your return will not be necessary. Guards, take her."

With no chance of struggle, Campbell was dragged out.

Secretary Wilson looked out of the window, gazing at the sky.
Dark times were ahead.

[Alexiandra]

Official Communiqué

To: The Empire of Traldonia
From: The Armed Republic of Alexiandra

Alexiandra protests with the utmost vehemence against the unlawful seizure and imprisonment of Delia Campbell, the Harrisopian ambassador to Traldonia. Once again, the Traldonian empire has demonstrated its flagrant disregard for the stabilising norms and conventions of international intercourse. Instead of resolving its dispute with Harrisopia sensibly, through diplomatic channels, the Emperor has chosen to close those channels altogether and thus close the door on peace. As such, Alexiandra demands the immediate release and repatriation of Ms. Campbell. Failure to comply with this ultimatum within twenty-four hours will result in the existence of a state of war between the Republic of Alexiandra and the Empire of Traldonia.

Signed,

Harper Montferrat,
President of the Armed Republic of Alexiandra

[Harrisopia]

King Theon Jadeous
Harrisopian Royal Palace
Public Meeting Room

King Theon looked down to his notes as he stood at the podium, ready to make the most significant public announcement of his career.

Notes are guidelines Theon, speak to our people from the heart.
He remembered when his father said those words. He was 17 years old at the time. A royal fledgling.
Even with all the training from government officials and mentoring from his father, Theon had never expected to be where he was. Delivering grave news to an entire nation.

"Your Highness, are you ready? The stream goes live in less than 2 minutes." Came a voice.

King Theon looked up, cold-faced. This was his duty.

"I am ready."

A few moments of uneasiness then he saw the red light of the camera appear. It was time.

Taking a deep breath, King Theon spoke
"To all the people of Harrisopia, my people, as you know we have gone through months of political tensions with the Empire of Traldonia due to our discovery of valuable resources in a land they falsely claim as their own.
Despite our best efforts to find a peaceful resolution, the Empire of Traldonia has made their intentions clear.
They thirst for war."
The King took a breath
"The Empire of Traldonia have already taken the first act of aggression.
Our Ambassador to Traldonia, Delia Campbell, was in our embassy in Onasa, working hard to resolve tensions between our nations in the most peaceful manner possible. The Traldonians response was to unjustly take Ambassador under arrest.
War was never a favoured option for us but we cannot stand by and accept appalling actions such as this."
King Theon looked down at his notes again, almost routinely, then addressed the camera once more.
"For as long as Ambassador Delia Campbell is imprisoned in foreign land, the Kingdom of Harrisopia can be officially declared at war with the Empire of Traldonia."

The King stepped down and walked away, ready for the tsunami of chaos that was to follow.

[Harrisopia]

Naval Base Hemston
HNS Nightshine
Lieutenant Samuel Hughes
Commando Six

The wind blew fiercely as the HNS Nightshine prepared to depart.
The destroyer had around 320 crew operating it, readying themselves for a dangerous voyage.
Lieutenant Samuel Hughes had been serving in the Harrisopian Navy for the last 6 years.
He had been all over the world in that time. Peacekeeping missions, settling minor skirmishes, even standard military drills with allied forces.
But he had never been involved in an operation like this.

The task was simple: accompanied by two Harrisopian frigates and 4 submarines, rendezvous with the Fifth Fleet of Alexiandra, head to the oil fields and stand guard.
Allow the teams to do their work without interference.

Unfortunately any interference would be by the Empire of Traldonia and Samuel had never before been involved in large scale war.

"Get ready boys, we're moving out in 5." Barked Captain Monroe
He turned to Samuel
"Lieutenant Hughes, come with me to the cockpit."
With a nod, Samuel obeyed orders and followed the Captain.

Once inside, the Captain sat down and began looking through different documents. Maps, combat regulations, tactical plans.

Hughes stood there awkwardly, waiting to be called upon. He had always followed orders.

Looking up Captain Monroe stared at Samuel
"You nervous Hughes?" He asked

"Not enough to affect my performance Captain."
Samuel replied quickly

Captain Monroe sat back
"A lot of the crew are nervous. War doesn't seem to agree with them."

Samuel felt like he should bite his tongue but couldn't help himself.
Curious he spoke up
"Does war agree with anyone sir?"

Captain Monroe choked out a laugh "Only the guys in suits Lieutenant."

Samuel sat down next to his superior.
"Have you ever experienced a war like this sir?"

Monroe pushed away the papers in front of him and slowly responded
"The Harrisopian Civil War started when I was 9 years old. Buildings were being blown to pieces, there were riots in the streets. There wasn't a single night I can remember that I didn't hear gunfire."
The Captain stood up and looked out as they felt the ship begin its course
"Two months into the war, my older brother was sent back to us in a box and wearing a medal. Thanking us for his service."

Turning back Monroe said "When you see your own people tear each other apart, there's not much an Empire can do to scare you."

Samuel nodded slowly, understanding.

Feeling the ship move with pace he sat back and prepared himself for what was to come.

War certainly didn't agree with him.

[Alexiandra]

International Waters
November 24, 2022
07:00am

The sun was just beginning to rise when the fleet officially crossed into the disputed oil fields north-west of Traldonia. The sea was placid - unusually so - and the scream of gulls vied with the roar of turbine engines as the fleet's AWACS screen soared high above the disputed zone. Below sprawled the archipelago which had caused all this trouble: a smattering of oddly shaped, elongated islands punctuated by vast stretches of wintry ocean. The islands were uninhabited, thanks primarily to the fact that their soil was of exceedingly poor quality. But they held a treasure that the colonists and explorers of bygone eras could scarcely have imagined - black gold.

Satellite and high-altitude plane reconnaissance indicated that the Allied fleet had beaten the Traldonians to the punch, arriving first. The Alexiandrans, for their part, planned to take full advantage. Within two hours, the first marines would be charging up the beaches, flattening the ground for makeshift runways, assembling anti-aircraft batteries and digging defensive positions. There was little time - while the Allies had enjoyed a headstart, the Traldonians enjoyed a greater proximity to the islands and would surely arrive soon.

The plan of attack, or rather of defence, was simple. The fleet's destroyer screen, armed as it was with cutting-edge anti-aircraft weaponry, would form a protective semi-circle around the archipelago. Its submarines would venture out further, looking for the first signs of Traldonian forces. They had orders to fire at will, and to send as many Traldonian sailors to the bottom of the ocean as possible without being cornered. Such hit-and-run tactics would disorient the Traldonians and occupy their destroyer screen long enough for the fleet's extensive surface-to-surface arsenal to strike home, and for aircraft launched by the supercarriers in the rear to enter firing range.

Later that morning, at about eleven a.m., an AWACS wheeling high above and head of the archipelago picked up its first fleeting blip. An aircraft, most likely. A couple of minutes later, a pair of missiles came streaking in from over the horizon, headed directly for the RS Achilles, part of the destroyer escort. The ship's AAA systems brought them down with a spectacular display of firepower, but there would soon be more where those came from. Before long, the two sides were exchanging missiles freely, plumes of smoke ascending into the breezy morning air. The enemy struck home aboard the RS Rendezvous, an anti-submarine destroyer, killing many and causing the ship to run aground. As a swarm of helicopters set out to rescue survivors, the Alexiandran command received some very welcome good news: the RS Katana, a hunter-killer submarine, had scored a direct hit on one of the enemy's anti-aircraft destroyers. Now a tense game of cat-and-mouse began, as the submarine - temporarily vulnerable, having revealed its position - sought to put some distance between itself and the enemy fleet.

[Harrisopia]

Tritous, Harrisopia
Harrisopian Army Headquarters
General James Davenport

Stale coffee, crumpled documents and sweaty stressheads. That was the environment James Davenport had grown used to since he had become General.
Certainly a contrast between that and his days as a soldier.

Rubbing his eyes, James turned to the Head of Harrisopian Recon, Bethany Wilkes
"What's the word on production?"
The middle-aged brunette handed over a document that James took a brief glimpse at.

"It seems they have doubled construction when it comes to anti-aircraft General." Wilkes claimed in a jaded tone
"They seem to see potential Harrisopian airstrikes as the biggest threat in home territory. Perhaps we should consider sabotage if we want to avoid casualties for the HAF."

James pondered for a moment
"I'll arrange a meeting with Chief Davies down at Special Forces. We'll see what the best approach is."
"Speaking of home territory" he continued "Are we blind on the borders? What are we seeing right now? The last report mentioned suspicious activity but there's still been no details from Alpha Squad."

Wilkes answered "There's been sightings around 84 klicks from the western border. Armed is a possibility."

James narrowed his eyes
"Why exactly did it take this long to tell me?"
Officer Manston to his left quickly jumped in "The problem is sir we can't entirely confirm if they are hostile forces. Them being armed is a possibility but not guaranteed and we haven't seen them wearing any insignia or carrying equipment that would tie them to Traldonia. They could be a travelling community or migrants of some kind. We didn't want to bring that to priority when there's other areas to focus on."

James gritted his teeth
"During times of war, there is no taking unnecessary risks. I want a further investigation into those sightings. Find out who these guys are.
I also want our border control stricter. I expect a battalion on that west side ASAP. I need them to stay high alert and want detailed perimeter sweeps around the clock.
We aren't letting hostiles just walk into our land."

With that the General made his leave.

[Alexiandra]

International Waters
November 25, 2022
15:00

Once again, the sea was quiet. Gone were the missiles that, just hours before, had streaked through hazy skies; gone were the distant rumbles of exploding torpedoes and cruise missiles; gone were the screams and din of battle. At last, after more than twenty-four hours of sustained engagement, the Allied fleet had won its first victory of the war.

'Satellite and radar both suggest an enemy withdrawal, sir,' beamed the young lieutenant. Commander Lewis, leaning over an interactive map of the archipelago, nodded sagely. He had expected as much. The Traldonians had taken heavy losses at the hands of Alexiandran submarines and Harrisopian hypersonic missiles; their inferior radar technology and total lack of stealth design had made them sitting ducks. Indeed, Lewis had found the whole war so far rather too easy. The Traldonians had never been gifted seafarers - it was a wonder they had bothered to contest the archipelago directly at all. Lewis suspected that the enemy fleet was a lure, designed to drag the Allied navies into the treacherous shoals, reefs and straits of the Traldonian coast. There, they would be easy prey for land-based anti-ship weaponry. His thinking was interrupted by the roar of a jet fighter passing over the command bunker. He had never been the type to lead from an office, and although his command post was sensibly located - sitting atop the rearmost island, it placed him firmly out of range of most enemy armaments - he still felt connected to the men and women risking their lives out there on the ocean.

'Lieutenant, request an updated situation report from command on the Harrisopian-Traldonian border,' Lewis said. 'I want to know if our troops are in position. If the Traldonians try anything, we can wait for the Army to clear out their coastal batteries and then move in to provide air cover with the supercarriers.' The young man clicked his heels, saluted and ran off. Twenty minutes later, he returned bearing an unusually wordy update from the General Staff.

Code: Select all

SECURITY CLEARANCE: MAX
DO NOT DISTRIBUTE

Allied troops massing effectively on Harrisopian border. Armoured divisions ready to counterattack any Traldonian incursion. Remain in position and await further orders.

Somewhere on the Harrisopian-Traldonian Border
18:00

It had been a long day for the men of the 25th Mechanised Infantry. Woken at dawn, they had hurried via road from their barracks in north-west Harrisopia to a muster point some one-hundred miles east of the Traldonian border. There, they had met with a dozen other regiments, some of which had been flown over from Alexiandra itself, as well as several Harrisopian units. Having received their orders, they were straight back into the APCs, trundling along the beautiful country roads in long, noisy columns. Finally, as the sun was setting, they had arrived here: a series of foothills about fourteen miles back from the official Harrisopian-Traldonian border. This was a likely route for Traldonian forces advancing into Harrisopia, and they would be expected to defend it with their lives.

Even now, there was no rest for them. They were hard at work digging makeshift trenches, installing floodlights, picking out sentry positions in the nearby terrain and stringing barbed wire across likely enemy attack vectors. Night had fallen, and with it the temperatures - men groped for their army-issued ponchos as their breath billowed out in clouds beneath the glare of the floodlights. Here and there, APCs and tanks were being covered with brush; their turrets stood watchful, gazing out towards a horizon that could now only be seen with the aid of night-vision or thermal optics.

On a small ridge just north of the main Alexiandran force, Sergeant Micah Landon lay prone against the cold, iron-hard turf. His ghillie suit protected him quite admirably from the cold, but his legs and forearms had gone numb nevertheless. He took a gulp of fresh, cold country air before placing his right eye against the thermal scope of his sniper rifle. There was practically nothing to be seen - a few rabbits every now and then, or an owl darting about in a copse of trees on the plain below. But he knew that the enemy were out there, massing, preparing to kill him - and that could hardly fail to set him on edge. He would know about any enemy advance long before he saw anything, of course. There would be warnings from aerial reconnaissance, artillery fire, the repetitive thump of APC cannons. But he remained vigilant, just as he had been trained to do. In war, vigilance is as much a matter of self-preservation as of good military practice.

Down below, he could see the 25th's outer perimeter - a few earthworks, deepening as the men continued to dig, and a smattering of camouflaged vehicles interspersed with anti-tank missile platforms. From high above came the ominous hum of a helicopter, surveying what might soon become the bloodiest battlefield seen in Harrisopia since the Civil War. Its presence ought to reassure him, but it didn't. There had been helicopters last time, too, and look where that had gotten him. He had been here, ten years ago, when the country had been pitched into chaos and brother had turned against brother. It was here, Harrisopia, that the first man had fallen to his rifle: Vargo Avraham, a rebel leader. Micah had cut him down in the prime of his life - and he would do it again, if given the chance. His country had placed a great deal of faith in him on that mission, and Micah had not let her down. Nor would he this time, if he had any say in it. Come what may, he and his rifle would defend Harrisopia to the last. They had done it before.

[Harrisopia]

West Harrisopia Countryside
Sergeant Daniel Martin
Harrisopian Army
4th Regiment
Delta Squad
The trees danced as the winds blew and the rain pelted down in the 13th hour of the day.
"10 years of service, 32 years of living, and I'll still never get used to this awful weather." Grumbled Corporal Stuart Anderson
The other troops sniggered at this whilst Sergeant Martin rolled his eyes.
"Weather's the least of our problems boys. We got nasties to deal with."
The Corporal scoffed
"If we got nasties to deal with then why we meeting up with some random squad of strangers? We can deal with those meatsacks ourselves."
Sergeant Martin rolled his eyes again
"General Davenport gave us our orders Anderson. We have to stick to them.
Besides, they're not just strangers. They're a professionally trained Alexiandran scout team. Echo Squad of the Alexiandran Reconnaissance Force.
You know how highly the General speaks of them.
We have a better chance of finding the enemy once they give us their report. That's better than running around here blind."
The Corporal didn't respond but just kept on moving.

The troops moved forward in silence for another mile when they came to a grassy clearing.
Sergeant Martin held up his hand, gesturing for them to halt. The squad obliged, taking in their surroundings.
"I heard something. Up ahead. Askins, Brooks, push up and circle on the left.
Everyone else, stick with me central."

As orders were followed, Sergeant Martin held his rifle forward like a spear. A G36 assault rifle, standard issue for the Harrisopian Army.

Moving forward with pace but caution, Martin soon saw the source of the disturbance.
Signalling his squad to halt, he looked forward.
Standing together, armed with guns, was a small group. Around 9 men, rough in appearance, were bouncing on their feet, looking like they were waiting for something.

Crouching down, using the trees as protection, the Sergeant looked over to the west side of the clearing. He saw Askins and Brooks, following suit with the squad, staying hidden.
They looked back at him, waiting for orders.
Making his mind up quickly, Martin held his fist high then pointed to the hostiles closest to them.
Understanding, Haskins nodded and then raised his rifle. Wasting little time he fired, rapidly.
taking two of the enemy down

"MOVE!" Shouted Martin, pushing forward, followed closely by his fellow soldiers.
With no hesitation, Martin fired into the troop closest to him, watching as his corpse crashed to the ground.

With only 4 of the group left, they all dropped their weapons and went flat.
"Please, we surrender!" One of the hostiles screeched.
Martin held back, pointing his gun at the subdued soldiers while his men pounced on them, checking them for more weapons.
With a nod from Anderson, Martin realised they were unarmed and lowered his gun.

"Which one of you wants to speak?" He asked
Anxious, the four prisoners squirmed for a few moments before one of them looked up
"Please, we're only here because we were paid to be. We have no loyalty to the Traldonians."
"Mercenaries" Anderson spat

Crouching down to look eye to eye with the speaker, Martin probed "How many are there like you?"
The man gulped and then responded "I don't know the exact number. Traldonia employed many soldiers for hire to cause disruption on the Harrisopian borders. There are many different groups. None of us were told where the others were assigned."

Anderson spoke up "This is pointless Sergeant. Let's just put these nasties in the ground and be done with it."
The speaker went pale whilst his comrades all writhed nervously.

"Let them go." Martin said with a sigh.
Anderson's eyebrows rose but obeyed nonetheless. Nodding at two other troops they picked the hostiles up and pushed them forward.
Taking no chances the group of four ran out of sight as quickly as possible.

Watching on Martin mused for a moment.
Perhaps mercy would always be the taboo of war.

[Alexiandra]

Harrisopian-Traldonian Border
07:00
November 26, 2022

The night air resounded with the cacophony of war. Gone were the calls of night birds, the rustling of the wind in the trees, the distant thud of hooves on the plain. Into their place had stepped gunshot, cannon fire and the roar of jet engines. Despite the protective headset he wore over his helmet, Micah's ears burned with the sheer volume of it all. He had been asleep when the first shots rang out. Roused by his watch-partner, he had hastened to his previous position on the ridge, a vantage-point from which he could observe the chaos unfolding below.

Down on the plain, the foremost APCs and anti-tank platforms had opened up, sending missiles and explosive rounds careening off into the dark. The rush of missiles and dumb thud of the APC guns were interspersed with sharp cracks of rifle-fire, as the infantry fired at anything that breathed out on the grasses. Their night-vision and thermal goggles were indispensable, even as the sun began to warm the eastern horizon - out here in the deep countryside, the darkness was thick and all-consuming. It would be at least an hour before daylight fully broke, and an hour was an eternity in war.

Through his scope, Micah could see distant figures, sprinting to and fro amidst a hail of oncoming fire. This was his first glimpse of the Traldonian army, and he was impressed. They had managed to elude most Allied reconnaissance assets during their approach, emerging from the forest with virtually no warning. Granted, their advance had been a little sloppy, and a fair few of their vehicles had been obliterated - but these were not the blundering barbarians Harrisopian propaganda had long depicted them as. They made effective use of what little cover they had, the infantry pressing forward behind battle tanks and APCs; they had even managed to strafe the ridge with cannon, sending turf flying hundreds of feet into the air. Micah had been unhurt, but the shells had landed a little too close for comfort, and he had soon taken up a new position.

Suddenly, Micah felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, expecting to find one of the corporals, but instead found a tall, wiry man bearing a Harrisopian sergeant's insignia. Micah gave a nod of recognition. 'The cavalry has arrived!' he declared with a grin. The sergeant smiled as he knelt a few yards away.
'Sergeant Landon? I'm Sergeant Martin, Harrisopian Army Reconnaissance Regiment. How's it looking out there?'
Micah shrugged. 'Like hell. The Traldonians are pushing hard - and they're paying for it. But we're not exactly getting off scot-free either.'

Martin opened his mouth to reply, but was immediately cut off by the deafening screech of an attack helicopter rising from the hills behind them. It moved rapidly over the plain, blasting them briefly with its backwash, before letting loose a pair of missiles in quick succession. Micah watched as they streaked out across the brightening morning sky, cleaving a path through the gunsmoke to strike home on the horizon. The sound reached them after a few seconds - two deafening booms, too close together to really distinguish. As quickly as it had appeared, the helicopter retreated, moving west along the battlefield and disappearing behind the foothills.

Meanwhile, Martin and his men had taken cover along the ridge. 'Sergeant Landon - call out the targets as you spot them. We'll do our best to keep them pinned down.'

Micah nodded, and resumed his vigil behind the scope. The enemy weren't even in range yet - this would be a very long day.

[Laka Strolistandiler]

OOC: Can I have several of my oil drilling companies being interested in the development of the oil fields and thus coercing the Lakan government into supporting one of the sides? Not outright military support of course- they’re not cyberpunk-level powerful, but some military assistance without committing too much forces. Also a hospital ship because I like medical stuff

[Harrisopia]

OOC: Can I have several of my oil drilling companies being interested in the development of the oil fields and thus coercing the Lakan government into supporting one of the sides? Not outright military support of course- they’re not cyberpunk-level powerful, but some military assistance without committing too much forces. Also a hospital ship because I like medical stuff

Sure. Be good to get more nations involved with this thread.

[Harrisopia]

Traldonia
Onasa Penitentiary
Delia Campbell

Dark corners, wet floors, fetid odors. This was not a setting Delia was used to nor was it what she had expected after months of negotiations. Yet here she was, trapped like a murderer.

Staring at the walls through tired eyes, Delia looked up when she heard footsteps coming her way.

Standing at the bars was two heavily built guards, armed with assault rifles, and in between them was Secretary Wilson.

Glaring at her political adversary, Delia spoke up "What do you want now Wilson?"

Wilson looked back with what had become an almost trademark smirk in the time she had known him.

"It is time Ambassador Campbell."

Delia rolled her eyes "Time for what?"

Wilson nodded to the guard to his left who proceeded to unlock the cell.
"It's time for you to send a message to your King."

Delia went pale "So being stuck in this horrible place wasn't enough of a message?"

Wilson stepped forward "No Ambassador Campbell, it was not."
With that he turned around as the guards roughly grabbed her and dragged her after him.

Harrisopian Royal Palace
General James Davenport
Conference Room

As a high ranking military man, James Davenport had had the pleasure of seeing inside the Harrisopian Royal Palace more than most people did in their lives.
Luxurious in structure, legendary in reputation the palace was a big part of Harrisopian history. It had been the first major building constructed when Petreldomian settlers came here all those years ago.

James remembered when he first began his journey as a soldier. The monarchy was a huge part of military culture.

The monarchy of Harrisopia was unorthodox. The Jadeous family had long pushed the belief of "Country before King"
The people are the royalty of our lands King Darius had stated
The Royal Family had long believed in guiding their country rather than ruling it.

James knew that many in the Harrisopian Army envied people like him. To keep in contact with the King so regularly would be considered an honour for anyone. However given the bleak nature of his meeting, James was more envious of those who were not charged with this duty.

Looking up as he heard the door open, James saw King Theon enter the room, swiftly followed by two of his Royal Guards.
Standing up and giving a half bow, James received a handshake from the King.
"General Davenport, it is good to see you. I trust your trip here was comfortable?" King Theon inquired
Sitting back down James responded "It was Your Highness. Though I wish my reason for coming here was more positive."

With a brief look up at his guards, King Theon returned his gaze to the General.
"Go on." He said simply

James sighed then answered "We have reports that Ambassador Delia Campbell was executed at 6:00AM this morning in the Onasa Penitentiary."

King Theon's eyes widened as his enclosed hands twitched at this revelation.
Quickly regaining his composure, the King spoke "This is grave news General Davenport. Delia was a good person and one of our finest ambassadors.
Her unjust incarceration was one of the main starting points for this war. Her death will surely lower public morale."

"Unfortunately Your Highness, public morale will always be low during wartime. The best way to proceed would be a real show of strength."

King Theon sat back, lost in his own mind for a few moments.
"What would you recommend General?"

Taking a breath, James replied "I think we have been on the defence for long enough Your Highness. It's time we showed Traldonia that their Empire isn't as mighty and indomitable as they like to believe. We should go on the offensive. Move the action from our borders into their territory. "

King Theon grimaced "Airstrikes? I don't know if I would like to go that far this early General. I would prefer to avoid civilian casualties if I can."

"I understand Your Highness and I don't disagree. I am not talking about airstrikes. We need to put our trust in men rather than missiles."

"Are you suggesting a full scale invasion?" Asked the King

James nodded "The sooner we take the fight to them the better. If we can take control of their main commanding territories then we can neutralize the threat quickly. That's better than losing more troops in skirmishes on the borders."

After pondering in silence for a few moments the King stood up "Gather what units you need General. You have my full support. The invasion of Traldonia begins now."

Without another word the King left.

[Alexiandra]

Harrisopian-Traldonian Theatre
December 1st, 2022
03:00

All across the region, the night was alive with the sound of warfare. The Alexiandran-Harrisopian fleet, advancing from its position amidst the conquered archipelago, was engulfed in brilliant flame as it delivered its deadly payload: a huge salvo of 'Hellion' cruise missiles, streaking off towards their targets with the surety and stealth of assassins. Over snow-capped mountains and flooded valleys, they would hunt their targets - Traldonian supply depots, military harbours, airbases, communications hubs, internet facilities - to the ends of the earth.

To the west, over the Harrisopian-Traldonian border, instruments of death flocked like birds over the ruined landscape. Attack helicopters, fighters, fighter-bombers, troop transports and hunter-killer drones wheeled high over the battlefield, pressing deeper and deeper into Traldonia. Things had started well for the Traldonians, their sheer weight of numbers having put the border defences under considerable pressure. By noon on the 28th of November, however, the tide of battle had turned decisively in the Allies' favour. Unable to compete with the logistical strength or high-tech firepower of the Harrisopians and Alexiandrans, the Traldonians had begun to withdraw - and were punished heavily for it. For miles, the roads and fields were littered with abandoned trucks and tanks, with dead and dying soldiers, with long streaks of blood. Smouldering craters dotted the countryside, many of them home to crashed Traldonian helicopters whose rotor blades stretched like skeletal arms towards the night sky.

The fighting had not been easy on the Allies, to be sure. Many of the initial Harrisopian positions had been abandoned in the early fighting, only to be reclaimed as reinforcements rolled in from the heartlands. Alexiandra's elite mechanised infantry, deployed to patch up gaps in the line, had seen some of the heaviest combat in its hundred-year history, and many of the Republic's finest now lay dead in foreign fields. But there was no time to dwell on all of that. The advantage was there for the taking, and the Allies were making full use of it. Across a front some one hundred kilometres in length, their forces were advancing, with tanks and APCs rolling forward on whatever roads were still capable of bearing their weight. The artillery pounded ceaselessly, carving out a path in the crudest way possible, levelling verdant forests and turning foxholes into tombs. Stealth helicopters laden with specially trained fireteams exploited the newfound gaps in Traldonia's defensive lines to cut deep into enemy territory, depositing troops at key chokepoints on the route ahead. Villagers across Traldonia awoke to find that their homes, businesses and local government structures had been commandeered as advanced posts of the Allied invasion. Operatives descended upon crucial bridges and river crossings, digging in to prevent enemy sabotage and ambushing the retreating Traldonian armoured columns with portable anti-tank weapons and land-mines.

By executing the Harrisopian ambassador, Traldonia had set the match to a powder-keg of its own making. What had been a limited war over oil fields had become a war of principle, a crusade, from which the Allied nations would not deviate unless they were most brutally beaten.

[Gralov]

(fixing)

[Alexiandra]

Official Communiqué

To: The Gralovian Technate
From: The Armed Republic of Alexiandra

Gralov is not known to us as a nation particularly skilled in the arts of intelligence-gathering, and the Technate's most recent diplomatic communication reminds us why. It contains extremely significant factual errors, which I will take the liberty of correcting here:

1. Ambassador Delia Campbell was the Harrisopian (not Alexiandran) delegate to Traldonia, and has been senselessly executed by Traldonian authorities. Her safe return is, as such, impossible.
2. Alexiandra has no 'claims over the legal lands' of Harrisopia. In fact, Alexiandra is fighting to defend Harrisopian territory against Traldonian claims.

We welcome the Technate's offer to intervene in Harrisopia's defence. Any support against Traldonian aggression would be much appreciated, and would demonstrate Gralov's commitment to upholding international peace and security.

Signed,

Harper Montferrat,
President of the Armed Republic of Alexiandra

[Gralov]

(Image)


Official Communiqué

To: The Gralovian Technate
From: The Armed Republic of Alexiandra

Gralov is not known to us as a nation particularly skilled in the arts of intelligence-gathering, and the Technate's most recent diplomatic communication reminds us why. It contains extremely significant factual errors, which I will take the liberty of correcting here:

1. Ambassador Delia Campbell was the Harrisopian (not Alexiandran) delegate to Traldonia, and has been senselessly executed by Traldonian authorities. Her safe return is, as such, impossible.
2. Alexiandra has no 'claims over the legal lands' of Harrisopia. In fact, Alexiandra is fighting to defend Harrisopian territory against Traldonian claims.

We welcome the Technate's offer to intervene in Harrisopia's defence. Any support against Traldonian aggression would be much appreciated, and would demonstrate Gralov's commitment to upholding international peace and security.

Signed,

Harper Montferrat,
President of the Armed Republic of Alexiandra

(shit lmao sorry for the mistake decanonize it)

[Alexiandra]

(Image)


Official Communiqué

To: The Gralovian Technate
From: The Armed Republic of Alexiandra

Gralov is not known to us as a nation particularly skilled in the arts of intelligence-gathering, and the Technate's most recent diplomatic communication reminds us why. It contains extremely significant factual errors, which I will take the liberty of correcting here:

1. Ambassador Delia Campbell was the Harrisopian (not Alexiandran) delegate to Traldonia, and has been senselessly executed by Traldonian authorities. Her safe return is, as such, impossible.
2. Alexiandra has no 'claims over the legal lands' of Harrisopia. In fact, Alexiandra is fighting to defend Harrisopian territory against Traldonian claims.

We welcome the Technate's offer to intervene in Harrisopia's defence. Any support against Traldonian aggression would be much appreciated, and would demonstrate Gralov's commitment to upholding international peace and security.

Signed,

Harper Montferrat,
President of the Armed Republic of Alexiandra

(shit lmao sorry for the mistake decanonize it)

Lol no worries, I had fun typing up that reply.

[Harrisopia]

International Waters
HNS Nightshine
Lieutenant Samuel Hughes

It had been a couple days since the sea had hosted action.
The allied fleet had done their jobs with brutal proficiency.
Lieutenant Samuel Hughes had never seen such naval clutter as he looked out at the waters. Fragments of ravaged ships, broken weapons, even what remained of the dead, floating high like discarded garbage.

Reports stated naval supremacy was guaranteed now though Samuel still felt uneasy.
Perhaps it was nerves through inexperience or a lack of faith in the allies' combat capabilities but this skirmish had gone a little bit too well for Samuel's liking. He knew these sentiments were echoed by others across the fleet.

"Any word from the eyes and ears?" Asked the voice of Captain Monroe
Samuel turned to answer "Still quiet so far Captain. No sight of an enemy vessel for miles. The workers seem to be making progress without any interruption."
Monroe stood next to him and looked out at archipelago.
"Then we're doing our job." He said simply.
"We just received a message from HQ." The Captain continued "King Theon Jadeous has approved of the land invasion of Traldonia. General James Davenport will be leading it."

Samuel hardly moved "So what does mean for us sir?"

"Most of us are staying here. Keeping watch on the workers, make sure this operation doesn't get delayed but Grand Admiral Fisher is putting another fleet together. A couple of our boys are going to be apart of it. There's going to be a blockade established closer to Traldonia waters. Hit those lunatics where it hurts."

Captain Monroe made his leave "Get ready Lieutenant. If you think this is bad then you ain't seen nothing yet."

Harrisopian-Traldonia Border
Harrisopian Army Reconnaissance Regiment
Sergeant Daniel Martin

Screeches and bangs plagued the air as Sergant Martin looked down on his targeted area.
"Lower left, flat spot, three nasties." Calmly announced Sergeant Micah Landon, peering through his scope.

Nodding, Martin gestured to his team then took aim with his rifle.
Through his eyes, he could see shadowy figures situated at the position Landon mentioned.
Without a word, Martin opened fire, joined by his squad.
After a two minutes barrage, Martin called for attack to stop.

Sitting back and reloading their weapons, they heard Landon once more
"Nasties down."

Clockwork thought Martin. They had been doing this for at least 4 hours. The bodies were starting to pile up in the area below.

"You know Landon, I have to say I think this might be the start of a beautiful friendship." Corporal Anderson had joked in the first hour after taking down a squad of Traldonians. Humour was rightfully lost in war but Micah Landon had at least given a wry grin at this.

"East side, passed the trees, one nasty on his own." Landon said

Martin looked over before he heard his Alexiandran comrade again
"Hold up, I've got him."
Within seconds there came the deafening blast of a sniper rifle.

They all knew what had happened but got their report nonetheless
"Nasty is down."

[Upper Magica]

Announcement from the Foreign Ministry of the Empire and His Majesty

In no uncertain terms do We condemn the illegal and morally unjustifiable actions taken by the Traldonian Empire in its pursuit of its resource claim over the last week.

While the Traldonian claim may have been justifiable in a court of law, their government's recent actions can only be described as perfidy of the highest order - detaining and, within short order, executing a legal representative of the Harrisopian government with not even a facade of a cause to justify this disgusting assault on not only international law, but one of the key cornerstones of what make modern civilization what it is: the safe conduct of emissaries and ambassadors.

Consequently, the Empire's embassy in Onasa will be withdrawn with all due haste, while We have issued deportation orders for its Traldonian counterpart in our capital and issued to its Ambassador a letter of dismissal.

We beg, in a final appeal, for the return of sanity into the Traldonian decision-making cycle and for negotiations to resume in good faith under international arbitration. While We acknowledge hundreds have died so far and mourn for their needless passing, thousands - if not tens of thousands more - stand to lose everything if all parties involved do not return to negotiations promptly.

Written on this first day of December by mine own hand,

His Imperial Majesty Morgan the Eighth, by the grace of God and her People, Emperor of Upper and Lower Magica




Upper Magican Consulate building, Onasa, Empire of Traldonia

The Ambassador sighed. It was stuffy and acrid in here; undoubtedly from the furnaces in the decrepit 19th-century building blowing back the toxic fumes of melting silicon, ink, and paper back into the building. He'd gotten the order to burn everything and leave a few hours ago. Thankfully, he'd had the sense to keep his phone on him, though many of the staffers and their families weren't given a choice whether they wanted to keep their devices and personal papers or not.

He lifted up the radio to speak to the head of the security detachment - "Staff Sergeant, how's the situation outside? Can we expect to be pulled off the street and shot, too?" A reply: "Nothing out here. Just a couple of police cars. They're watching for sure, but they haven't taken any action just yet."

Good, he thought. "I'm going to send out the first batch of repatriates," the Ambassador said. "Some of our bachelors, bachelorettes. If something goes wrong on the way there, we have time to get our contingency going, and they don't have...quite as strong bargaining chips, no?" He shuddered at the thought of even one of the youngers getting caught up in all this. Thankfully, he'd had the logistics officer order extra food and bottled water on last week's supply run, just in case one of the combatants bombed out the utilities and the staff and their dependents all needed to hole up. Another call to the folks downstairs to get moving, and the Ambassador waited - possibly one of the longest moments of his life.

An hour later - might as well have been three days - and the Ambassador picked up his phone after it let out a characteristic 'ding' - a message. It read:

Code: Select all

Hold up @ customs. They aren't letting us pass.

Another popped up as he was reading, his heart racing.

Code: Select all

They took passports. Managed to get to the bathroom in confusion. Taking everybody to detainment.

The Ambassador threw away the phone, his face cradled in his hands. He wanted to cry, the despair of the moment working its way into his soul. He summoned up the energy to get up, get the phone on the other side of the room, and make the first of two calls:

"Staff Sergeant, start the contigency. Get us ready. Now." A beat. "Sir? What's going on? There isn't any activity out here..?"

"Staff Sergeant, I said get us ready. We have a situation on our hands. I will brief you personally later. If those entrances aren't barricaded and your boys' rifles locked and loaded in the next 15 minutes, I will shoot you myself. Is that clear?"

"Uh, yes sir."

He sighed. It was time for the second call. A few rings. "Hello, you've called the Imperial Household. How may I direct your call?"

"This is Ambassador Masson. I need to speak with the Emperor. Confirmation code 5309867. Urgent, secure line."

"Please hold."

While the sound of typical waiting muzak assaulted his left eardrum, the Ambassador pondered; how would everyone back home react to this turn of events?

[Alexiandra]

Official Communiqué

To: All Nations
From: The Armed Republic of Alexiandra

The Armed Republic of Alexiandra applauds His Imperial Majesty Morgan the Eighth, Emperor of Upper and Lower Magica, for his commitment to upholding international law and stability. Traldonia has committed crimes of unspeakable brutality, both publicly - as in the case of Delia Campbell - and covertly, as our soldiers on the front lines can attest. Upper Magica's willingness to defend the principles upon which international order rests is truly commendable. That said, we must insist that Traldonia's territorial claims are not justifiable in a court of law, and indeed have no legal basis whatsoever.

Intelligence sources indicate that officials from Upper Magica and a host of other nations are facing detention as they attempt to exit Traldonia. While Alexiandran forces are not yet in a position to liberate these dignitaries, we can assure the international community that our troops are fighting tirelessly to put an end to such acts of tyranny while avoiding collateral damage. We recommend that all foreign plenipotentiaries and diplomatic staff remaining in Onasa leave the city by any means necessary - should a protracted siege become necessary, we can only anticipate that many will suffer the same fate as Delia Campbell.

All foreign dignitaries residing in Traldonia can be sure of safe reception and passage should they reach Alexiandran or Harrisopian lines. We wish them the best of luck, and remain confident that this war will soon be brought to a decisive and favourable conclusion.

Signed,

Harper Montferrat,
President of the Armed Republic of Alexiandra

[Alexiandra]

Traldonian Countryside
December 2nd, 2022
9am

They swept low over the village - two helicopters, circling in contrary directions, their occupants scoping out the scene below. From his vantage-point on the starboard side of the aircraft, Private Shaw could see all the rudiments of pastoral life: old cottages, chicken coops, pig-pens, muddy fields filled with grazing cattle. Conspicuously absent, however, were the village's inhabitants. Either they had already fled - understandable, given the propaganda Traldonia had been pumping out regarding the barbarism of the advancing Alexiandran forces - or they were hiding in their homes. Shaw hoped for the former. Civilians would only complicate the arduous task ahead.

They touched down in a wide meadow just east of the village, and immediately dashed for the cover of the trees. The helicopters roared back into the air behind them, wheeling off back in the direction they had come. Once he was safely ensconced in the leafy copse, Shaw waited for his comrades to catch up. They came padding up behind him, whispering occasionally and glancing around with watchful eyes. Ahead they could see a handful of cottages, complete with a barn; there was still no sign of life. Slowly they advanced, moving with silent purpose from one tree to the next, eyes and rifles trained on the buildings ahead. Another man might have been nervous, but Shaw had total faith in his comrades - they were after all a handpicked team, some of the best and brightest Alexiandra's armed forces had to offer.

Finally they reached the cottages, which numbered five in total, and the trees thinned out into a broad clearing. Beyond the old brick structures lay a shoddily tarmacked road, and then more trees. It was quiet - too quiet, as the cliche goes. Shaw kept his rifle trained firmly on the uppermost windows of the nearest cottage. His Sergeant, Olivares, crept up behind him and tapped his right shoulder. 'Time to go,' he said. Shaw nodded.

He, Olivares and a third soldier, Smith, took turns dashing forward, each pausing periodically to cover the others. They reached the side of the cottage, and treaded as silently as possible round to the front, keeping their eyes on the windows above. Back in the trees, the rest of their company waited, ready to obliterate the whole building if necessary. Olivares reached the front door first, wish Shaw on his left shoulder and Smith trailing behind. He took one look back at Shaw, drew in a deep breath, and then kicked the door clean off its hinges. Then everything was movement, pure kinetic energy - they stormed into the house, taking each room in turn, scouring every corner for traces of the enemy. They found nothing.

Regrouping in the master bedroom, they motioned from the windows for their comrades to approach. Shaw breathed a sigh of relief - and then saw stars. Something collided with the back of his helmet, sending him sprawling to the floor. Only as he lay there, half-conscious, did he hear the gunshot ring out. For a few seconds the room was filled with deafening noise, with Olivares and Smith unloading their magazines in the direction of the shot. Then everything was silent again, and Shaw rolled groggily onto his back, craning his neck to see what had happened. At first, he couldn't even see who had shot him - then a wardrobe door opened, and the body of a man came tumbling out, crashing to the floor in a heap. Blood leaked from the centre of his forehead.

Smith and Olivares, taking him by the straps on his backpack, dragged him from the room and onto the stairs - just in time. The other cottages, apparently unoccupied just seconds ago, erupted into murderous life, muzzles flashing their rage from each and every window. Plaster and brick came raining down on the three men, and it was all Shaw could do not to cry out. Down on the ground floor, the rest of the company began to return fire, using the cottage as cover. There was an enormous explosion, followed by the sound of crumbling masonry, as one of the Alexiandrans' grenade launchers struck home.

After twenty minutes of utter chaos, everything went quiet once again. What had once been an idyllic little village was little more than a collection of ruins, pitiful under the cold December sun. Shaw lay in the stairwell, concussed. Out of the front door he could see his comrades completing their mission, concealing land-mines and improvised explosive devices under shrubs, pieces of litter and so on along the length of the road. The aim was simple: to prevent or delay the retreat of Traldonian armoured columns back towards Onasa. Even if the unfortunate Imperials spotted the devices, they would have to spend precious time disarming them - in this thickly wooded region, roads were invaluable to tanks and armoured vehicles. They would then be sitting ducks for Alexiandran air and artillery strikes.

Once it was done, Shaw pulled himself shakily to his feet, stumbling into the woods; the Alexiandrans would lie in wait there for any opportunity to detonate their explosives and ambush the enemy. Shaw would be evacuated by helicopter. As he trudged unsteadily towards the LZ, he dragged behind him the limp body of Private Lupin, who had been shot twice through the torso.

It was almost sunset by the time he reached the clearing - a helicopter was waiting for him, ringed by vigilant marines. As they lifted off and headed for the relative safety of Alexiandran lines, a constellation of lights appeared on the horizon: Onasa, greeting nightfall. The next few days would see the victory or defeat of the entire Allied counteroffensive. For his part, Shaw was just glad not to be marching into a hostile city. But soon his concussion would clear, and he would be thrown back into the fire. War really was hell.