A Changing World (OPEN, MT, ATTEN: Reformed Britannia)

by **Itailian Maifias** » Thu Apr 14, 2011 12:54 pm

OOC: Itailian troops will be proud to defend RB should it come to fighting. Which I seriously hope it does/tag

by **Reformed Britannia** » Thu Apr 14, 2011 3:12 pm

Easton froze in a paroxysm of fear as he heard the beeping begin-how did the detonators survive the EMP, he thought, immobile for only a second as he considered the implications of the noise.
But only for a second.

Without thinking any further, Easton quickly remembered that the southern side of the Fairbanks building faced the Innishandra river that meandered through the city. Quickly, he shouted out to his team members-those who weren't wounded during the rescue attempt, anyway.
"Right! Pull those fucking detonators and get them out those windows! If you can't, throw the plastique out those windows! Now! Now! Now!" Easton's voice very nearly cracked with the sheer force of his screams as he motioned to the windows he was referring to-the windows which had once offered such a picturesque view of the Inneshandra river during more peaceful times.

Instantaneously, the team sprang into a final, frantic action, going to work and locating the loudly beeping detonators, pulling them from the C4 and tossing them out the window into the tranquil waters of the Innishandra. Easton kept his weapon trained on the terrorist leader, and with his hands sweating beneath the matte black gloves he was wearing, he radioed O'Brien on the ground.

"Sir, we have confirmation on their nationality. They're from Nitom, and their leader called themselves 'soldiers for their country'. Considering the fact that they fucking well smuggled military-grade equipment into Britannia, I'd say this isn't your run of the mill terrorist attack. This was premeditated, possibly with government backing. And we may lose some of the hostages. Turns out their detonators somehow survived the EMP blast and are still active on some kind of timed fuse."

Easton recoiled as O'Brien swore loudly on the other end of the line. The Captain then switched channels, radioing the FRU headquarters with the most up-to-date news on the situation-including the revelation of the terrorists' nationality. The news was soon relayed to the prime minister's office in Parliament, where he had been waiting all morning for some concise news regarding the attack.

"Soldiers for their country, eh?" Prime Minister Powers-Carne muttered quietly to himself, surrounded by various military, intelligence and domestic security heads. He paced back and forth in his office, almost like a caged animal, rage boiling in his eyes.
"Were they members of an extremist group?"
"Not that we know of, sir. They used small arms and equipment consistent with the types used by the military of Nitom. Moreover, we've remotely retrieved security footage from the building that shows one of their members addressing Edmund Gallagher, the now ex-minister of Foreign Affairs, saying that they were sent there to kill him for sending their nation to fight against Gibet alone."

At this, Powers-Carne's face hardened into an expression of cold, complete, utter contempt. He continued pacing about the office, trying to speak calmly and to keep his notoriously bad temper under control.
"Now, what reason-tell me, what bloody reason-could they possibly have to launch a covert attack against us? Hm? I'll tell you why. They don't have a valid reason to attack us-they think that with the empire gone we're nothing but a paper tiger, slinking away from even the vaguest threats made against it. They think that they can take advantage of this perceived weakness for their own benefit!" The prime minister smacked his left palm with his fist for emphasis, his voice rising steadily as he worked himself up into a near frenzy.

"They don't know what they've done, then. They are sticking their bloody noses where they're bound to get cut off. If they think that they have something to gain from war with Britannia, we will show them otherwise!" Powers-Carne slammed his fist down on the mahogany desk in the middle of his office, creating a resounding crash that echoed throughout the deathly silent room. Looking around at the various military figures crowded around his desk, Powers-Carne could spot a wide range of emotions in their eyes-but he knew that they were all as intent as he was on getting revenge for such a savage attack.

"Mobilise the military. I will issue a communique to the Empire of Nitom about all this. You are dismissed, gentlemen. And godspeed."

OFFICIAL COMMONWEALTH COMMUNIQUE

The Britannian government must announce with sadness and outright anger to the world an attack upon the Fairbanks Building in Kensington that held the objective of assassinating our now ex-Minister of Foreign Affairs, Edmund Gallagher. While at first glance this appeared to be nothing more than a terrorist attack, intelligence obtained by the Kensington Metropolitan Police's Fast Response Unit coupled with surveillance footage recorded and sent remotely to the Met's headquarters confirms that these were not simple terrorists, but special forces soldiers in the employ of the nation of Nitom, sent to Britannia with the express purpose of killing Mr. Gallagher, as a form of demented 'vengeance' for Britannia 'abandoning' Nitom in the war against Gibet.

The Britannian government is confused, appalled, and angry at such an underhanded form of attack against a sovereign nation. We cannot fathom why the nation of Nitom has seen fit to attack Britannia using this method, but we can promise the nation of Nitom and its leaders that retribution for such a senseless massacre will be swift and true. As of the issuing of this official government communique, the Commonwealth of Reformed Britannia considers itself to be in a state of war with the Empire of Nitom.

Sincerely,
The Britannian Government

If the attack upon Britannia had come at any other time, chances were that the Commonwealth would have stood no chance whatsoever in fighting it off. However, times were indeed changing-the Imperial Federation had been disbanded, and in preparation for unprovoked attacks on Britannian soil, the Britannian government had mobilised all available military forces and set them to maximum readiness.

Now, the threat had finally come. Britannian military power had always been spread out-never, ever concentrated in one place. With the death of the empire, though, that was about to change-all of the branches of the Britannian armed forces were prepared to fight to the death to preserve their homeland and keep it free from the terrors of oppression and the jackboot that would almost certainly come with Nitomian dominance of the country.

Not that such a fate would ever befall Britannia's green fields, of course.

by **Nitom** » Thu Apr 14, 2011 3:38 pm

"Open fire!" The man yelled as he saw the FRU troops moving for the hostages. "Nitom shall not be defeated!" He continued as he pulled out a grenade. He then through it at the hostages in a atempt to kill as many as possible.

Rumek, Nitom

"Sir, the Britannian government has found out about our attack. We must mobalise the full Nitomian military." A man said as he got off the phone. "Alright, put Operation Kremenk into effect. Also, deploy all offencive air units and naval units." Ethan said as he pulled out a map. "We must win the war as we did in Gibet, with overwhelming numbers and the will to fight on." He continued as he looked at Kegan. "Kegan, just like in Gibet I want you to use what ever you need to. Even if that means using the HFLMS's or the HFICBMS's to submit Britannia into defeat." He said pointing to Britannia. "Yes, sir." Kegan said as he got up and walked out. Soon Nitoms 7,000 ships and 50,000 air craft would be put on full alert.

ooc: The navy and air units have been suggested to me by other people that I talked to right before the first Gibet war.

by **Erjunhuf** » Thu Apr 14, 2011 3:52 pm

by **Salzland** » Thu Apr 14, 2011 5:30 pm

The Executive Building
Rostgard, Salzland

"They're ready for you, Mr. President."

I take one final opportunity to check myself over in the mirror as my Chief of Staff tells me that the press conference we've called is about to begin. Can't have the leader of the Armed Republic showing up on camera for an event that's going to be broadcast nationwide looking like a rumpled heap, after all. Wouldn't be good for the polls.

As I reach the edge of the stage a voice calls out, "Ladies and gentlemen, the President." I step out to the podium as flashbulbs begin going off among the press pool photographers. The reporters present all stand and remain on their feet until I reach the podium, then sit down and wait for me to begin. The news of the terror attack on the Reformed Britanians has been leaked, and the press knows that I've taken a hard line in support of defending Britannia in the past. Everyone in the room who has been paying attention knows what I'm about to say.

"Good afternoon. Before I begin, many of you have heard about the recent, deadly terror attacks against civilians in the Commonwealth of Reformed Britannia. I would like to ask for a brief moment of silence and solidarity with our ally, in memory of those who have lost their lives or been injured in today's dastardly attacks." The room falls silent, in a rare display of unity among the press corps. After a minute, I shuffle my note cards and turn my attention back to the television cameras recording the event.

"Since the attacks began, elements of the Salzland government have been in contact with their counterparts in Britannia, offering assistance in identifying those responsible for these attacks and pledging our support to the Britannian government as they deal with this crisis. I am now able to inform you that the nation behind these attacks has been positively identified, and I am now able to inform you of the measures that the Armed Republic will be taking to punish that country for its crimes. We have received video evidence from the Britannian government directly implicating the Holy Empire of Nitom, specifically its government, as being behind these attacks. We have received independent confirmation of this from the Alliance of Grand Powers, which the Holy Empire of Nitom belongs to. The Alliance of Grand Powers has stated that the Holy Empire of Nitom has asked for their assistance in attacking Reformed Britannia, which the Alliance has refused to do. Salzland surveillance assets have also detected the mobilization of significant Nitomian military forces, mobilizations which incontrovertibly began prior to the terror attacks in Britannia earlier today."

The room fell silent once again as I laid out the evidence implicating the Nitomians in the attacks in Kensington. It was hard to beat confirmation from three independent sources, including direct allies of the Nitomian state. The massive military mobilizations, made before any state had publicly implicated the Nitomians, would simply serve as the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

"As you are all aware, the Armed Republic maintains an active defensive agreement with the Commonwealth of Reformed Britannia. Today, that defense agreement is being invoked. Elements of the Salzland Defense Forces are being mobilized as we speak, in order to punish the Holy Empire of Nitom for their blatant, unprovoked acts of war against Britannia. Of course, we will not be unreasonable in our pursuit of justice against the Nitomian government. We are providing the Nitomian government with the opportunity to surrender, pay reparations to the families of those killed and injured in today's attacks, pay further punitive monetary damages in order to deter future attacks, and to turn over all individuals who were behind today's attacks. Meeting these conditions will result in the Armed Republic taking no direct military actions against the Nitomian state."

I pause to take a sip of water, as a nervous murmur begins to fill the room. Deep down, we all know that the Nitomians won't agree to our conditions. We know that this is going to come down to war.

"In the mean time, the mobilization and deployment of the Salzland Defense Forces will continue until such time as peace is secured. We harbor no illusions that the road ahead will be an easy one. But we stride forward in righteousness, and we will be victorious in our cause. One way or another, we will demonstrate that unprovoked attacks against our allies will not be tolderated. Thank you, and may God Bless the Armed Republic."

I stride off the stage as my press secretary begins fielding questions from the audience. Once I'm out of view of the press pool, two representatives of the Defense Intelligence Agency and one of the Joint Chiefs meet me to begin briefing me on our military response. I already have a feeling about what they're going to say.

"We can expect that the Britannians will receive assistance from several other allies, especially now that we've thrown our hat in the ring," begins one of the DIA briefers. "I haven't seen a clearer justification for invoking a defensive agreement in a long time. When the time is right, the DIA will get in touch with the Foreign Relations Ministry and work out communications protocols between ourselves, the Britannians and any other Britannian allies that join the fight."

I nod, before turning to General Martin Danielson of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. "General, what do the Joint Chiefs need in order to conduct this war?" The look on his face tells me everything I need to know.

"We need the public to understand that if this comes down to a shooting war, that it's going to get messy very quickly. The Nitomians have a history of either threatening to use or actually using Weapons of Mass Destruction in times of war. Given that this conflict has started with a carefully-orchestrated attack against civilians, we must move forward under the assumption that the Nitomians will use biological, chemical and nuclear weapons against us and any other state that joins the coalition against them. The Nitomians also maintain significant conventional forces, which are mobilizing quickly. By the time anyone gets within range of their shores they're going to be well dug-in and poised to lash out with Weapons of Mass Destruction as soon as our forces are in range."

"Honest assessment, gentlemen. Should I authorize limited nuclear first strikes against the Nitomians?" They all know what I'm really asking. If the Nitomians are going to push the button, should we try to take out their nuclear arsenal before they can launch?

"Not while there's still a chance for this to end peacefully. Especially not without clearing things with the Britannians first. Based on the fact that the Nitomians chose to attack them, we have to presume for the moment that most of the Nitomian nuclear arsenal is targeted at Britannia. If we strike at the Nitomian nuclear arsenal, we have to be aware that our allies are going to suffer unless we neutralize the entire Nitomian nuclear strike capability. Which is not something the Joint Chiefs or the DIA can guarantee."

"Not what I wanted to hear, gentlemen," I reply, frowning. It seems a safe bet to me that this conflict will go nuclear before very long. In the mean time, the opening stages of the war will be in the hands of the Navy and Air Force. I only hope that they're up to the task I'm asking of them.

ORBAT:

by **Greater Amerigo** » Thu Apr 14, 2011 6:10 pm

GAS Haven
1900 GST
Operation Mountain Dawn

The Aircraft carrier treaded the waters just outside of Nitcom's Maritime zone in wait for an order to engage operations. The Carrier's sister ship the GAS Wesley trailed about ten miles east with it's full combat compliment. Admiral Clark sat in his chair waiting for further information regarding the deteriorating situation in Reformed Britannia and Nitcom. The latest combat patrol had just landed on the flight deck, and the next was preparing for takeoff on the flight deck. The deck radio was alive with chatter for the night launch.

"Raising pressure! 50, 60, 70, 80, 90! We're in the green, clear for launch."

Two carrier-based Greater Amerigo Carrier-Fighter 21s (CF-21s) raced off the flight deck into the dark sky.

"Badger One and Two away! All airborne aircraft are under AWACS Lone Eagle following takeoff. Three and Four prepare for launch."

The captain sat in his chair scratching his thinning white hair. He silently related his thoughts. "I'm getting too old for this waiting game. The damn red tape in Jericho is going to get us killed sitting on the border like this. Either Nitcom is going to attempt a preemptive strike to knock us out because we're grazing the danger area, or we're going to sit here thinking they will for weeks. Either way it's unnerving waiting for the Bureaucrats to pull the trigger for once." He replaced his Admiral's cap and paced the bridge watching the last of Badger Squadron head off on air screens surrounding the fleet. "Well, at least we're ready for them."

OOC: Blah blah, making it known that I'm interested in this RP, but I can't fully commit until Friday.

by **Reformed Britannia** » Fri Apr 15, 2011 6:35 am

Easton dove for cover as the enemy leader opened fire again, ducking back behind the desk as the bullets blew holes in the floor all around them. Peeking up over the desk, he unleashed the rest of his magazine in well-controlled bursts at the enemy fighters, noting that as of now three of his team members had been wounded-one critically due to the sudden barrage of bullets.

However, Easton could do nothing about the grenade that had gone hurtling through the air in an effort to kill as many innocent people as possible. He watched as it landed in the midst of the hostages, and knew that no matter how fast he moved, there would be nothing he could do to stop it from exploding in the middle of them.

What Easton wasn't banking on was the selflessness of his critically wounded team member, a man who was lying on his back with a hole blown in his stomach. In spite of the near-blinding pain that gripped him, the man recognised the sound of a grenade rolling to a halt immediately next to him-he was one of the men who had been pulling detonators-and knew that if something wasn't done to stop it, a great number of innocent people would die.

He vainly fumbled for the grenade for what seemed like only a millisecond before he realised that it was due to go off literally any second now. With a feeling of melancholic resignation to his fate, the wounded team member rolled over on top of the grenade, and closed his eyes.

The last thing he thought of before everything went black forever was his wife and kids.

There was a dull whump as the grenade went off underneath him, its shrapnel-dispersing properties greatly mitigated by both his remaining body armour and his actual mass. Easton, who had been watching the whole thing, suddenly felt a powerful sense of loss-the man had been part of his team since they'd graduated from the FRU Academy a couple of years back. For a moment, Easton actually felt hot tears welling up in his eyes.

But that emotion, that feeling of irreplaceable loss, was soon replaced by a vile, unstoppable anger. With a guttural war cry tearing out of his throat, Easton rose up from behind cover, firing his weapon at the terrorists, continually pulling the trigger until the magazine went click.
The other FRU team members, following Easton's example, laid down a withering barrage of fire, no longer encouraged to aim for the non-lethal shots that they'd previously been taking, all caution abandoned in pursuit of revenge-something which could only be sated by the crude spilling of the enemy's blood over the elegantly designed floor.

The situation outside of the Fairbanks Building was escalating quickly. Government offices were alive as officials began bringing the Britannian war machine up to full operational capacity. While the armed forces had been prepared to strike out anywhere on the globe at a given moment, they had not been prepared to fight off an invasion of their homeland-and that necessitated supply lines, depots and the like.

Fortunately, managing logistics on their own soil would prove to be a petty task compared to the previously monumental logistics efforts the Britannian military had undertaken during its past endeavours, most notably against Gibet. The fact that they were fighting on their own soil, with copious amounts of supplies and equipment to back up their own forces, meant to the Britannians that the advantage was theirs so long as they didn't allow the Nitomians to gain a strong foothold.

And if the military commanders had their way, not a single Nitomian soldier would ever advance past the beaches of Britannia-if they even got that far.

Satellite reconnaissance would begin in force, attempting to keep tabs on the Nitomian forces when they started to move out and determine where they were going to attack. As soon as this was determined, the Britannian ground forces would concentrate their strength along the enemy's anticipated path of advance, and supply depots would be set up behind them. Some of the Royal Air Force's F-1 Dauntless strategic bombers, however, were already being prepped for an attack-it would take a while for the mission to be properly planned, but the Britannians figured they could use that time to try and negotiate an end to the war before it even started.

The Britannian government had received an official communique from the Alliance of Grand Powers not long after they announced the terrorist attack and its perpetrators to the world. Various higher-ups considered peace unlikely after such an attack-the Britannian populace simply wouldn't have it-but using the negotiation period to continually prepare their armed forces for an attack could prove advantageous. However, the fact of the matter was that entering into a negotiation process-with the apparent aim of achieving peace with a nation that had attacked Britannia using such underhanded methods-would probably wind up causing an outcry amongst the Britannian populace, who were already demanding vengeance against Nitom.

OFFICIAL COMMONWEALTH COMMUNIQUE

While the Commonwealth has always been committed to the power of diplomacy-indeed, numerous landmark treaties have been negotiated within our own capital city of Kensington-we fear that peace is far behind us now. The nation of Nitom has attacked us for not supporting them in what was clearly a war of aggression aimed at garnering more territory for their nation as opposed to a conflict with a valid cause for war, such as the one currently developing.

Britannia has always taken a zero-tolerance approach to terrorism. Terrorists are the scum of the earth, willing to target civilians to achieve their wicked goals. We don't negotiate with terrorists, and as such, we will not be negotiating with the Nitomian government. The only thing we will accept from the Nitomian government at this point is unconditional surrender.

Sincerely,
The Britannian Government

by **Nitom** » Sat Apr 16, 2011 8:17 am

The man dropped down throwing all of his grenades at the enemy wat ever happens next was unknown to him.

ooc: sorry for the short post but this is the last post from me for the terrorist attack.

Everything was going according to plan. The Nitomian war-machine was spinning up. Nitomian military and police units were fortifing Nitom. Anti-air, missle, and ship defenses were being set up. Industry was taken over by robotics and all garbage was being sent to Nitoms emergency power plant to be burned for energy in Nitoms top energy plant which was several hundered feet under ground. High walls on the coast were being set up. Ellis island was being fortefied to be untouchable. High towers were being built that would have anti-air defenses on them that would take out even the highest flying air craft. Everyone even the unemployed were making their way to help Nitom. Food as being transported underground to be stored and Nitomians all around the world were being evaced into Nitom for their own safty. Nitomian B-2 stealth bombers and F-35 stealth fighters were being preped for a 12 hour bombing before an invasion if it came to that. While the nitomian military was preparing for war Nitoms governemnt looked at the situation.

by **Dorlania** » Sat Apr 16, 2011 12:53 pm

As the emperor watched in disbelief his minster of defense walked in. do you see this sir! yes I do,I see it as well as you and I want nothing of this! the emperor stormed out in anger.unknown to him a taskforce of nearly 700 agents was heading towards Britannia aswell as the minster of defence began sending weapons from an"unmarked source" to the counties revolutionaries.Sending agents to prisons to help stage riots aswell as the same thing with ethnic minorites.

by **Reformed Britannia** » Sat Apr 16, 2011 8:11 pm

The first time the man had thrown a grenade, it had been an unpredictable move; however, as he continually began throwing grenades at the FRU positions without cooking them off, the highly-trained FRU troopers began simply kicking them away from their own positions-causing massive damage to the Palatial Foyer but preserving the lives of the hostages.

As the firefight finally ceased, Easton slumped against a desk, bleeding heavily from a shrapnel wound to his thigh that he'd received within the final thirty seconds of the heated exchange. Counting Easton, the eight-man FRU team had suffered four wounded and one killed-heavy casualties considering that the FRU was supposed to get the job done quickly and cleanly. The operational situation had been on a much greater scale than anything the FRU had yet faced-fifty hostages wired with C4 and well-equipped foreign commandos being the primary complications to the completion of the mission.

But it's done, Easton thought to himself, absently reaching for his radio.
"Captain," he wheezed, coughing a little as some smoke drifted into his airways, "all Tangoes have been neutralised. It's finished. But we're going to need a few medics."
On the ground, Captain O'Brien breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Emerging from behind the armoured car, he pulled his balaclava on tightly over his head and donned his helmet once more.
"Alright! Echo Squad has neutralised all hostiles! I want a thorough sweep of that building to make sure that no more of the buggers are inside, and medics are needed in the Palatial Foyer. And somebody needs to get a bloody cleanup team in here to get rid of that gas. Move out!"

The FRU troopers began swarming the building again, conducting their roles with more efficiency and speed than before, actively searching each and every room of the building for explosives and enemy contacts to make sure that no more threats to the building existed. Medics rushed up to the Palatial Foyer, where they would begin to treat Easton's team-and any wounded enemy combatants-for their injuries. If any combatants were captured alive, they would be interrogated by agents of Britannia's intelligence service.

The headquarters of the Secret Intelligence Service was bustling with activity as agents rushed to compile as much information as they could about Nitom, and the groundwork of future intelligence operations was laid down. The SIS higher-ups didn't doubt that if the Nitomian government had gone through the trouble of orchestrating a terrorist attack, they would also presumably be attempting to commence intelligence operations within Britannian borders. Fortunately, the Secret Intelligence Service, while completely unknown to all but Britannia's closest allies, was without doubt the most proficient of all the Britannian national service branches-including the regular military.

Britannia's small size as a nation necessitated a constant maintenance of power in order to preserve Britannia's existence. Control of actual, physical power was-in the view of many Britannian officials-quite limited in its applications in Britannia's case. Control of information, however, was a reservoir of strength that many nations had failed to tap into-either giving their intelligence services only meagre funding or neglecting them entirely. Britannia was not one of those nations. Since its inception, the Secret Intelligence Service had undertaken a dazzling array of operations both in foreign nations and abroad-with its Foreign and Domestic Intelligence branches being the true sword and shield of Britannia, respectively.

Commissioner Fitzpatrick was very proud of his organisation's accomplishments. From successfully kidnapping the President of Hayaba from the streets of his capital city to successfully bringing down the Gibetan communications network, the accomplishments of the SIS were both somewhat glamorous and varied-yet they remained the unsung heroes of Britannia, keeping to the shadows while the strength of His Majesty's Armed Forces was flaunted at every turn.

However, as Fitzpatrik began to finalize plans to slip agents into Nitom-they would arrive on cargo ships or passenger airplanes from nations aligned with Nitom, carrying with them various falsified identity papers-reports began to come in from constabulary branches across the country that the few fringe groups within Britannia were being armed.
It was times like this that Fitzpatrick truly appreciated tight gun control laws.

The only widely availible weapon in Britannia was the FN FGR, and in order to get one, a person had to pass a series of stringent tests to make sure that they weren't volatile psychopaths or demented criminals. The fringe groups had been kept under surveillance for a long time-now that they were illegally being armed, there was finally a reason to stamp them out without having them cry out in defence of 'free speech'.

FRU raids were conducted where possible-and the weapons seized were carefully examined for factory markings and the like, something which might give them away. Data on the weapons seized was forwarded to Fitzpatrick's office, prompting him to call a quick meeting with three of his most experienced and trusted agents.

One by one, they made their way into his office. The first to arrive was Miles Thompson, a rather fat individual who was quickly going bald-and was often the last person anyone would expect to be a spy. Thompson had been very successful in coordinating intelligence gathering operations overseas, and was in effect Fitzpatrick's second in command.

Next to enter the room was Jack Powell, a middle-aged man with weatherbeaten looks and an almost tired aura about him. Powell was experienced at catching spies and foreign agents-it was he who had coordinated the duping of the Ulthranian Intelligence Force agents in Kensington when they sought to embarass the Britannian government by revealing old war secrets.

The last-and arguably the most well-known within the agency-was Ingrid O'Hara. If any of the people in the room were lined up and an observer was asked to pick out who the spy was, ninety-five percent of the time it would probably be O'Hara who got picked. With her long, dark, chestnut-coloured hair, piercing green eyes, and what the Britannian national hero James Roberts had once remarked were 'sultry good looks', O'Hara fit the textbook description of a femme fatale. But that didn't stop her from completing her missions with the utmost efficiency-indeed, she had been the one to lead the mission that wound up capturing the Hayaban president.

Once they were all seated, and the door was firmly shut behind them, Fitzpatrick spoke.
"Gentlemen and lady," he began, "as you know, our nation is heading into a perilous war. We have allies to aid us in our fight for justice, but I believe we may have overlooked the fact that the Nitomians may have allies as well." Pausing to take a quick drink of water, Fitzpatrick continued.
"FRU teams have been conducting raids on fringe groups that police surveillance determined were being supplied weapons. Now, in ordinary circumstances, we'd assume that these weapons somehow came from Nitom. The only problem is that the Nitomians used completely different weapons during their attack on the Fairbanks Building, and if they weren't worried about that being traced back to them, then why bother shipping in some completely different weapons?"

Even though the question was intended to be rhetorical, O'Hara cut in.
"Because they weren't supplied by Nitom, but by a third party."
"Correct. Now, the question is, who the devil is going about arming fringe groups? There is one possibility. The Alliance of Grand Powers, while having formally declared neutrality, is aligned with Nitom diplomatically. Furthermore, it was Britannia that declared war on Nitom, not the other way around. So, technically, the Nitomians may be able to exploit that fact and bring the alliance to their 'defence'."

Pausing again, Fitzpatrick eased out of his chair and turned his back on the three seated agents, his hands clasped behind him.
"We cannot allow this to go on. Assuming this is true, I want whoever is supplying those groups with weapons to be caught red handed. When we find out who, we may be able to persuade His Majesty's Government to serve them with a declaration of war. As of now, this agency's primary directive is counter-intelligence operations. Powell and Thompson, I want you two coordinating this. I also want most of our resources working on rooting up any possible Nitomian sources in the entire bloody country, as well as any nationals who may be affiliated with them. Priority two will be, of course, getting our agents overseas. O'Hara, I'll be putting you in charge of that last bit. Go to it, the lot of you."

The three agents walked out of the office as calmly as if they had merely wandered in for a cup of tea.
Powell and Thompson immediately began going over some tried and true counter-intelligence tactics-namely, creating false extremist groups and filling them with SIS agents. If the weapons suppliers got into contact with them, the agents would attempt to glean as much info from the suppliers as possible-namely, their nationality and motives-before calling in the police to eradicate the supplier ring.
O'Hara, in the meantime, began selecting agents to go overseas-the process would be quite stringent, but there would be absolutely no room for mistakes in the coming operation.

by **Reformed Britannia** » Sun Apr 17, 2011 8:09 am

OOC:
Here is a map of Britannia within Western Azhukali:

by **Alexiandra** » Sun Apr 17, 2011 11:52 am

Retconned due to technical issues.

by **Dorlania** » Sun Apr 17, 2011 12:18 pm

Move Move Move!the noise of bullets flying around his head was amazing as Willaim fontaine led his rebels through Britannian postions,they were weilding Dorlanian made DA-74's,with no factory markings of course.Our allies are with us men we must march on! he said that as a shell from a tank blew right in front of him. AHHH!The debris flew all around him.He knew he couldn't let his dorlanian allies down and the Britannian socalist party too.He kept on pushing ,sodid his men.Within hours other rebels began attacking britannian postions scoring victories.After hours of combat they won.On top of a building he saw green flares in the distance showing that other rebels were sucessful

by **Reformed Britannia** » Sun Apr 17, 2011 1:25 pm

The fact that the Globemaster had flown high up would have helped it evade conventional radars, but in wartime, Britannia had an even higher-up form of surveillance-satellites. These satellites quite literally were Britannia's 'eyes in the sky', with specialised military satellites providing accurate visual information as well as RORSAT capability. It was the former of these capabilites-high resolution imaging facilitated by the powerful optics systems on the satellites-that made detecting an unidentified military transport aircraft breaching Britannian airspace that much easier.

A team of operators ensured that the satellite in question manoeuvred to follow the Globemaster as it journeyed through the skies-alerting the Royal Air Force first, of course. A quick cross-reference with the RAF's database determined the make of the aircraft, and the operators suddenly became very sure that they had stumbled upon something intended to be quite clandestine, considering the aircraft's high flight path. Sending a live video feed to an RAF observation team, the operators continued to keep their eyes glued to the screen, watching for what might happen next.

However, it was only when parachutes were seen to tumble out of the back of the aircraft that the red flag was truly and definitively raised. Thinking that it might be some sort of Paracommando training exercise, the operators quickly passed on the data to RAF Command, which held jurisdiction over the Paracommando Corps.
"Uh, are there any training drops scheduled for today in the vicinity of Culcairn Sound?"
There was silence on the other end of the line as some bookies doubtlessly checked to either verify or refute the question.
"That's a negative, two-four. Those are foreign airborne troops." The voice on the other end of the line was shaky, and the operators could hear various shouts in the background as the room the RAF observation team was in exploded into pandemonium.

"You should get on the horn to RNB Culcairn and tell them about this. Thanks for the information, lads. Sometimes I don't know what we'd do without you."

RNB Culcairn
To say that RNB Culcairn was purely a naval base would be shirking the truth quite a bit. RNB Culcairn was also home to several Vandermann F-1 Dauntless bombers, as well as a significant proportion of Britannia's Royal Marine Corps, who were headquartered in the base. The presence of the base had caused a small town to spring up, with various businesses and houses of ill repute aimed at catering to the whims and fancies of servicemen on furlough.

But the normally laid-back attitude was nowhere to be seen as the base received news of potential enemy contacts dropping near the base's position. The entire base exploded into a frenzy of activity as the entire facility was put on maximum alert, and the Royal Marines were readied for a gun battle if it came to that.

Of course, that wasn't what the Admiralty had in mind.

From one of the fleet's several Agamemnon-class carriers, a pair of RA-33 multirole fighter jets were launched, their graceful, sleek forms rocketing high up into the air, only to pass low above the heads of the Marines below in a morale-boosting display of Britannian power that elicited cheers from the men standing below. The fighters in question were piloted by Squadron Leader Charlie 'Sparky' Barnes and his wingman, Flight Lieutenant William 'Wild Bill' Lansdowne. Their RA-33s streaked across the sky, guided towards the position of the enemy commandos by satellite guidance.

"Alright, Bill, we're approaching their position. Reduce speed." The squad leader's voice crackled over the radio, prompting the junior pilot to reduce his aircraft's forward velocity, the feel of the G-forces causing a strange sensation in his stomach that he'd never been able to eliminate.
"Wilco, Squad Leader. Do you have eyes on the targets?"
"Negative...wait. Damocles, I have eyes on what could be our targets immediately north-west of our current location. Confirm?"
There was only the slightest pause as the satellite observation team checked the position of the pilots and compared it to the position of the foreign troopers.

"Roger that, it's them. You are cleared hot, Tiger Actual. Good hunting."
Barnes couldn't help but crack the slightest grin as he was given permission to engage the targets. Easing the sleek fighter into a turn, he began heading on an attack vector towards the enemy contacts.
"Bill, do you have visual?"
"I do, sir."
"Alright. Let's light the bastards up."

As the RA-33s shrieked downwards in a vicious arc, beginning their attack run, the sound of a wailing guitar came over Barnes' headset. Lansdowne, in direct contradiction to operating protocol, was playing music over the comms channel. In any other situation, Barnes would've torn him a new one-but at home, with no hostile air assets to worry about, the op was practically risk-free.

The thunderous crashing of drums was soon augmented by a low rumbling noise as the brace of RA-33s opened fire with their 30mm nose cannons, sending a volley of high-explosive shells towards the enemy troops on the ground. The powerful rounds ripped the picturesque green countryside to pieces, and both pilots could feel their aircraft shaking as the TR-58 Nose Cannon-nicknamed "Ol' Faithful" in Britannian service-in each of their fighters unleashed a torrential hail of rounds aimed towards the enemy troopers.

After the first pass was completed, Sparky and Wild Bill doubled back and went in for a second run, trying to strafe the enemy lengthwise as opposed to width-wise like they had the first time. Caught in the middle of a field with no air cover, Lansdowne very nearly felt a pang of remorse for the enemy soldiers on the ground-until he remembered that these troops almost certainly had come from the very same nation with the gall to attack the Fairbanks Building.

After the second pass, the fighters retired and headed after the Globemaster, flying up to the same general altitude and scanning the area with their AESA radars, the relatively short rock song entering into its dying strains as they did so. Once they were within 120km of the target, they would each launch two RA-77 Longsword AMRAAMs at the aircraft before retiring to base. The pilots would not have to see the results of their strafing run-however, the 350 Royal Marines who were being transported to the area in Spartan MCVs would. They had orders to dismount about a klick away from the enemy commandos' last known position, and then advance to engagement range-which, for their FN FGR Mk. III rifles loaded with 7.7x57mm Lucknow rounds, was a whopping 800m. From that range, they would use their rifles to engage the enemy commandos, with explicit orders to not stop firing until every last one of the enemy contacts was either dead or, preferably, wounded.
In the event of that occurring, the Royal Marines would move in and secure any wounded personnel for interrogation courtesy of the Secret Intelligence Service.

Commissioner Fitzpatrick had received the news of the enemy landing on Britannian soil not long after Damocles had first reported it. He was now convinced that the time was ripe for a true first strike against Nitom-a strike that would be delivered by his organisation.
After about fifteen minutes of verbal sparring with Foreign Office officials over a secure landline, Fitzpatrick finally got the authorisation he sought. With that, he forwarded a message to Agent O'Hara, who was still in the country.

Seen any good movies lately?

While such a message would seem almost idiotic in its simplicity, that was exactly the intent. As opposed to a cryptic (and fairly suspicious) message along the lines of "It's the flower's time to bloom", the SIS preferred to keep things very simple-their logic was that if said communications were intercepted, very few foreign intelligence agencies would go through the trouble of trying to figure out the hidden meaning of a seemingly innocent phrase.

But it was not innocent. Not one bit.

As soon as the message reached O'Hara, she forwarded it to numerous SIS operatives abroad, with a prominent number stationed in Gibet, Tia Regness, and the former Britannian dominions, where Britannia had amassed a copious collection of 'shell computers' that had been created by maliciously distribution trojan computer viruses to unsuspecting users through the internet.
It may have been immoral, but now, the possessed computers of the unfortunate citizens would be helping to fight a battle in the name of liberty. At least, that's how it was always rationalised.

These networks of computers were suddenly directed towards Nitom-based websites and servers-particularly important ones such as financial, news, or government websites. This massive wave of computers began sending the Nitomian servers repeated external communications requests-trying to overload the servers so that they could no longer process legitimate requests and therefore not fulfill their duties. The intent was to cause a massive server overload-but more importantly, to cause financial and information-related chaos in Nitom.

Teams of SIS hackers would then to go work on the websites, using special commands to override other service requests in order to allow them to do their work. They would empty financial accounts, distribute false news pieces, and deface government websites-but more importantly, they would begin looking on government servers for stowed-away pieces of data that could help Britannia in its war effort, such as information on military or intelligence deployments, as well as ICBM override codes and the like.

Such a massive DDoS attack, if it succeeded, would hopefully wreak untold havoc on the Nitomian economy as well as causing general panic and chaos-of course, it would also hit investors or foreign nations with financial interests in Nitom as well. But in Fitzpatrick's view, they had thrown their lot in with the wrong people-it was as simple as that.

As the Secret Intelligence Service launched its all-out assault on Nitom's internet assets, a second, much more physical strike that had been planned since the declaration of war was due to be carried out.

In RAFB Yazd, in Gathustria, a flight of 12 Vandermann F-1 Dauntless strategic bombers, accompanied by eight LY910 Shadowhawks, was being prepared for takeoff. Once they were in the air, they would head towards the nation of Nitom, rendezvousing with a re-fueling aircraft about halfway to their destination-which was still a very considerable distance outside Nitomian airspace-before executing their mission.

Of the bombers which made up the strike force, all had been equipped with anti-satellite missiles. Modern warfare necessitated the use of satellites; whether it was GPS guidance for missiles, long-range communication purposes or efficient and accurate surveillance of the enemy, satellites were effectively the 'eyes in the sky' for numerous militaries. The Britannians knew this, and as such, the first step in any sensible offensive action was to take out enemy satellites.

Each of the Vandermanns carried no less than 2 Orion anti-satellite missiles. These bombers climbed to an altitude of 60,000 feet before releasing their cargo, which began travelling using inertial guidance while using sophisticated sensors to determined the location, speed and orbital path of enemy satellites. In this strike, the Britannians hoped to permanently destroy Nitom's communication networks-both military and civilian-as well as any satellites that had a military application, denying Nitom the ability to effectively coordinate an overseas campaign against Britannia, but more importantly, denying them the GPS guidance capability for their ICBMS.

by **Gibet** » Sun Apr 17, 2011 6:33 pm

Gibetan National News Network (G.N.N.N)

"We now take you live to the still-ruined capital of our glorious nation for a formal address by our new-Fuhrer, Field-Marshal Hans Von Sturmgiest, in regards to the current actions in Britannia."

"My people! Sons and daughters of Gibet! Our allies in Reformed Britannia have come under un-provoked and needless attack by our enemy, he Empire of Nitom! They are in need of our help! Will you answer the call?!" He shouted into the microphones before him as the crowd of thousands reacted wit cheers and "Seig heil".

"Well, this much I vow: The history of these days will be written in blood. By engaging the armies of our enemy. By siezing the weapons they will seek to use against us, we will all be fighting for our very existance! Even now, the Nitomians feel they have beaten us beyond need of worry of reprecutions. They have no idea of what awaits them. We will SMITE th enemy from our lands! Though they may sweep over our lands like the snows of Winter.....never again shall we endure their oppression; never again allow their aggression towards ourselves and our allies! And as we rise again from the ashes of our cities. As our last breath tears at their hearts......they will know: We are Gibet and we will ALWAYS come to the aid of a friend. Seig heil!" He shouted as he raised his arm into the salute that had come to personify National Sociaism.

At that moment, all of Gibet was at war once again. Sadly,it seemed to be the only thing they were any good at; killing and being killed. Their armies were probably some of the most experienced in the world. Fighting had been going-on continuously since the end of the Gibetan-Britannian War. With Britannia, Nitom, Rebels, and so on. Now, they were once again on the same battlefield as the Britannians and the Nitomians. This time, fighting alongside the Britannians to, not only help them, but also reclaim their rightfull territories in the far-North. War had come to the gates of Gibet, and she welcomed it into her arms.

"May God have mercy on our enemies."

by **Salzland** » Sun Apr 17, 2011 6:41 pm

Executive Building
Rostgard, Salzland

The news of an attempted commando insertion into Reformed Britannia had reached the Defense Intelligence Agency quickly, since the DIA was now operating in close coordination with the Britannians in order to help bolster their defense efforts. After all, it was reasoned, if having one nation's intelligence agencies working to secure the Britannian state was good, then having a second nation's intelligence capabilities added on top of that could only make things better. At the very least, it would ensure that the Armed Republic was up to date on the strategic situation.

"I don't like this," President William Phillips said, once his intelligence briefing on the developing war in Britannia had concluded. "Attempting to fly a military cargo aircraft directly into Britannian airspace to deploy commandos is incredibly brazen. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it was utterly stupid. If the enemy thought that this was a good idea, then God only knows what else they're going to try. Ian, how long until we can get forces in-theater?" he asked, turning to the Defense Minister, Ian Williams.

"We have air-mobile infantry brigades en route, with heavy air escorts along the whole route. The first ground units should be arriving within the next few hours, along with their fighter escorts. We also have two carrier battle groups that are within a week's hard travel from Britannia. I've ordered them to link up with the Britannian Navy, at least until we can move further forces into Azhukali. That's the good news."

"And the bad?" President Phillips asked, though he was confident that he already knew the answer.

"It's going to take weeks for us to get significant naval formations into Azhukali, and weeks to get armored units on the ground in Britannia. Most of our heavy airlift capacity is tied up moving troops, so we're going to be very limited with regard to the munitions that we can ship in for our aircraft and troops. Obviously, the longer we can delay the Nitomians, the better the situation will be for us," Minister Williams answered.

"The way you mentioned 'delay' tells me that you've got something in mind, Ian. Are you interested in sharing?"

"As you may know, sir, we have begun fielding Firefly-class space-based weapons satellites. These weapons satellites have been developed for the exclusive purpose of targeting and destroying enemy logistics points and fixed defensive positions. Things like oil pipelines, munitions factories, maintenance yards, SAM and anti-ship missile batteries, etcetera. In other words, the types of targets that can safely be struck from orbit, without causing civilian casualties if we miss."

"And you want me to order the Strategic Defense Command to use these weapons to delay the Nitomians," the President concluded. Minister Williams smiled and nodded.

"Yes sir," Minister Williams replied. "We have developed a list of targets that can be engaged that will help us delay the Nitomians, should they attempt to mount an invasion of Reformed Britannia. We have identified several oil pipelines that are likely providing the fuel for Nitom's military shipping. Severing those pipelines will cut off the fuel that they will need to even reach Britannia, delaying them while they build up fuel reserves from other sources. We also want to hit several munitions plants, including facilities which the DIA has identified as manufacturing vital components for long-range missile systems, including anti-ship missiles and SAMs. We also want to hit the factories making tank shells and other munitions, so that the Nitomians' ability to manufacture ammunition will be hampered. The last targets are the most audacious."

He paused before continuing, "Our satellite surveillance has detected numerous Nitomian military supply vessels in port, either preparing to take on troops or equipment. These naval bases are far enough away from civilian populations that we are confident that they can be struck safely, without any risk to civilians. Sinking these ships, or even merely damaging them or the dock facilities such as the cranes needed to load the military equipment onto ships, on top of the other logistics points that we are striking will damage and delay the Nitomian war machine, which will buy us the time we need to build up defenses in Britannia. It also serves to send a message to the Nitomians, that we have the ability to reach out and strike their homeland just as easily as they attacked Britannia while deliberately targeting military, rather than civilian targets."

"Do it," President Phillips said. "It's time we put those lunatics on the defensive."

***************************************

Low Earth Orbit
Approaching Nitom

Over the previous four hours, eighteen Firefly-class weapons satellites had been maneuvered and synchronized so that their orbits would pass over Nitom at the exact same time. Each satellite contained ten 1,000 pound re-entry vehicles, and each re-entry vehicle was loaded with over two hundred tungsten carbide ball bearings, each the size of a golf ball. A small rocket engine, guidance fins, a small computer with a built-in altimeter and a large shaped charge mounted inside the top of the re-entry vehicle, to deploy the tungsten sub-munitions once the re-entry vehicle had reached the target altitude, completed the design.

In effect, each re-entry vehicle was a massive shotgun shell designed specifically to engage the weak points in an enemy's military and logistics capabilities. With a circular error of probability of roughly one hundred meters, there was a 50% chance that each re-entry vehicle would strike within 100 meters of its target. In order to increase the probability of success, for this operation each re-entry vehicle had been programed to air-burst at an altitude high enough to allow its sub-munitions to distribute over a circle 200 meters in diameter, except for the weapons targeting the Nitomian ships, which were programmed to air-burst at a higher altitude so that multiple ships could be struck in each shot.

In total, one hundred and eighty independent re-entry vehicles would be fired at roughly one hundred targets in Nitom. Each re-entry vehicle would reach speeds in excess of one kilometer per second by the time it reached its target altitude, and each of the over 36,000 tungsten carbide sub-munitions would impact the ground at a temperature of over 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Anything flammable in the vicinity of a sub-munition would immediately catch on fire, which would increase the damage from the actual weapon strike. The streak of fire following each re-entry vehicle and each sub-munition as it passed through the atmospher was what had led to the system being dubbed the 'Firefly.' The sub-munitions themselves were more popularly known as the "Golf Balls from Hell."

Depending on how integrated the air defense grids were in the Alliance of Grand Powers, the Nitomians might have only minutes of warning before the Firefly satellites were in weapons range and had fired. Once they had, the weapons' ballistic trajectories would ensure that only a direct impact would knock the re-entry vehicle off course. Without any advance warning, interception would be very difficult to pull off on such short notice.

There was little for the strike coordinaters in the Strategic Defense Command to do but wait as the satellites drifted through space on the final moments of their journey.

************************

Approaching Reformed Britannia
3rd Company, 1st Brigade
57th Airborne Division

"Listen up gentlemen, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. Command has informed me that we are to be prepared for a hot LZ once we land in Britannia. The hostiles have attempted at least one commando insertion into the country, and nothing makes a tempting target quite like a flight line packed with mouth-breathing groundpounders standing around looking clueless. Once we're wheels down, I want you all up and ready to disembark. There will be transport trucks waiting for us on the tarmac. Board them by squads, first squad in the front and the command section bringing up the rear. We're gonna go on a little drive to the coast," Announced Captain Jacob Harris, as he strode down the aisle of the Boeing 737 transporting his Company, and the 4th Company to Reformed Britannia.

At the moment, they were part of an aerial armada transporting seven full light infantry divisions, a total of 70,000 combat personnel, along with tens of thousands of logistics personnel and thousands of tons of supplies. They were being escorted by hundreds of military aircraft, including top of the line stealth fighters, fighter-bombers, AWACS, tankers and electronic warfare aircraft. While Command did not think that the Nitomians would have a significant military presence this close to Britannia yet, it paid to be prepared. It also paid to get the escorting aircraft into Britannia as quickly as possible, so that their pilots could be well rested in the event that they were needed to repel an invasion.

Bases and airfields had already been designated for the first Salzland forces in-theater, who would be arriving within the hour. They would be using local supplies of food, medicine, water and fuel during this campaign, all paid for in cash, in advance by the Salzland government. Every pound saved in transporting consumables allowed the transport aircraft to carry more equipment, more munitions and more men into Britannnia.

It seemed likely that there would be at least some Salzland forces on the ground, ready to aid in repelling a Nitomian invasion. Whether they would be enough to hold out until further reinforcements arrived in Azhukali remained to be seen. One thing was certain though, each and every man present knew that they would be fighting an enemy that deliberately attacked civilians, and was willing to fight to the death. The stage was set for a brutal campaign.

by **Alexiandra** » Sun Apr 17, 2011 11:01 pm

"God dammit!" Screamed Corporal James as he watched three of his men get blown apart by an airstrike. The Britannians knew they were nearby. James quickly radioed the revolutionary camp, which was located just a mile south of his position. "Guardian Two-Actual, this is Firebird. We are under HEAVY attack by Britannian air units, request SAM launch, over." There was a moment of silence over the comms, as Corporal James and his men managed to reach the cover of a nearby treeline. "Permission granted. Expect SAM launch immediately. We have locked on... standby." The commandos waited in tense silence, watching the tiny dots that they knew were the planes that just bombed them. Suddenly, two missiles appeared on the horizon. The SAM sites had opened up, delivering a withering barrage that was sure to end this new threat. Meanwhile, he radioed Nitomian High Command. "Nitomian High Command, this is Alexiandran commando unit Firebird. We need an immediate missile strike on any enemy satellites with the capacity to see us on the ground, over." As he waited for confirmation, he continued to watch the missiles. Damn they moved fast. "Private Jackson, I need a sitrep now." He said. "Well sir, the bomb is still intact two kilometers south of our current location, and the rebels are commencing their attack. The Alexiandran units have forty two men still intact, sir, and most of them are in the woods now." The young soldier replied. Corporal James now knew that if it was a satellite that was spotting them, it wouldn't last long before the Nitomians dealt with it. It wouldn't be able to see them in this forest either. The Dorlanians were successfully inside the forest, and all that remained was to wait.

by **Nitom** » Mon Apr 18, 2011 11:32 am

Sattalite 14-87

"Rodger, that firing for effect." A man over the radio said as he pushed a red button. Soon a missle slammed out of the sattalite and was heading for a Britannian sattalite that was watching the ground forces assulting the naval base. "Missle away!" The man said as he watched over the monitor. "ETA 3 seconds." The man said as he continued to watch the missle. Soon there was a giant explosion that could be seen from the ground. The Nitomians new missle program worked. "Sir, we have a confirmation, operation 183.26 has been completed. The missle works." Nitoms new defense had just be made clear to the world.

Nitomian Space Watch Center

"Sir, SOR has detected 18 sattalites above us." A man said sitting in his chair. "Use operation 183.26 and counter messure scorpion-16." Another man said. "Don't let those sattalites hit their targets." The man continued.

by **Alexiandra** » Mon Apr 18, 2011 11:52 am

OOC: OK I will await Britannia's response now.

by **Reformed Britannia** » Mon Apr 18, 2011 3:11 pm

Barnes and his wingman were still a fair distance away from the aircraft carrier when the missile warning klaxons suddenly beeped on both their aircraft. Barnes jumped a little bit, then checked his radar to confirm; somehow, there were a pair of SAMs following the two planes.
"Bill, we've got SAMs airborne!
"This a blue-on-blue or what?" Bill's slightly panicked voice crackled over the radio as both pilots switched off their radar systems to reduce their RCS.
"Not with our IFF systems. Make no mistake, that's a hostile launch."
"Stingers?"
"Most likely. Chaff and flares, boyo." Barnes and his wingman released the chaff and flares from their aircraft before Barnes switched channels to report this in to command.

"Goshawk Actual, we have enemy SAM launch within our operating zone. Requesting RF scan of the area, over."
There was silence at the other end of the line, no doubt as some military officers exploded into a string of profanities regarding how the enemy had managed to slip full-blown SAM systems, no matter how large, into the country.
"Confirm, Goshawk One," came the voice of their commander, a man who had flown several combat missions alongside them. "We're sweeping the vicinity with the satellite."

High above, the satellite quickly scanned the area for RF radiation-the type of radiation that SAMs emitted. Restricting the search area to within effective SAM launch range, the satellite quickly detected the rebel base-but it had also picked up transmissions coming from the commando group on the ground, suggesting that they had requested the SAM launch or were communicating with outside sources.

The satellite quickly relayed the band the transmission had been found on to SIS headquarters, where a massive processor was on hand to decrypt any encrypted radio transmissions that were intercepted-useful for keeping an eye on the few extremist groups that could be found within Britannia-where the decryption process was quickly undertaken. The contents of the next message would be interesting to His Majesty's Government indeed.

But first, they were passed on to Fitzpatrick, who insisted upon knowing everything before information was passed on to Powers-Carne, whom he quietly regarded as being hotheaded. A written transcript of the radio messages was set before him, and he read them quite impassively-until his eyes raced over the final transmission, which he visibly arched an eyebrow at.
"Well, doesn't that beat everything. It's not the Nitomians after all," he growled, the lit, dimly glowing end of a Royal Reserve cigar jutting from his mouth. Fitzpatrick blew a perfect ring of smoke into the air and tapped the cigar gently with his right index finger, causing some ashes to fall from the smouldering end.

"Forward it to the PM. But send with it my strong recommendation that we keep our knowledge of these transmissions absolutely secret. No use declaring a bunch of other nations enemies of the Commonwealth. Of course," Fitzpatrick stopped momentarily to pour himself a couple of fingers of brandy, "you may inform the Right Honourable Mr. Powers-Carne that the SIS will not be adverse to, say, assisting in the seizure and liquidation of all their financial assets within Britannia. And send him my recommendation that we formally sever ties with the buggers as well." Fitzpatrick snorted, emptying his shotglass in a single gulp.
"Neutrality, my arse. If Machiavelli was here, he'd have a good chuckle at our expense."

The Britannian satellite, an undefended platform, had no time to defend itself-but it was not the only satellite above the Britannian nation. The fact that the Nitomians had somehow managed to sneak a satellite within ASAT missile launch of a Britannian one was something of a slap in the face to the Britannian defence network, who set about remedying the problem in the traditional Britannian manner-via an overwhelming and probably completely unnecessary display of force.

From the fleet at Culcairn Sound-which was now putting to sea due to the enemy commando threat-a total of five ASAT missiles were launched at the Nitomian satellite above, with the intent to destroy it. However, that was child's play compared to the complete and utter hurricane of fire and steel that was about to be unleashed on the revolutionary base that had seemingly sprung up almost overnight.

Royal Marines had manned their defensive positions around the town of Culcairn, ensuring that every approach possible was covered, while additional groups patrolled the streets and stood watch in the harbour to make sure that no enemy commandos somehow made it past the bristling line of defences on the outskirts of town. It was now, with the Marines fully prepared for battle, that the Britannians would strike a decisive blow against all the lunatic fringe groups who had united in their 'brave' and 'noble' quest to overthrow their betters.

From within the town, a total of 40 Cockatrice multiple rocket systems fired a barrage of 220mm rockets towards the rebel camp. Over 1,200 rockets shrieked through the air towards their target, each one carrying 612 HEDP submunitions capable of wreaking havoc on both men and vehicles alike. With an incredible striking range of over 60km, the Cockatrice launchers were arguably some of the most deadly weapons in the entire Britannian arsenal-and now, the foolish rebels who had dared to stand up against the might of the Commonwealth would experience their wrath full-force.

The Marines who had been sent out to take care of the remaining commandos could only look up in awe as the veritable storm of rockets descended towards the rebel positions, streaking through the sky and leaving tendrils of intertwined smoke behind them. The Marines kept moving forward until they were a full kilometre away from the enemy commandos' last known position.

The Marine snipers began scanning the area with both thermal and night optics in an effort to locate the enemy troops, while the Marines remained prone on the ground, eyes wide and ears listening for the slightest hint of movement. Britannia was a land of farmer's fields, moors, heaths, and bustling cities-most of the forests had been clear-cut during the country's industrial revolution. Seeing that there were no commandos in the fields, the Royal Marines naturally turned their attention towards the nearby woods-it would only make sense that the commandos had gone in there.

But the Marines would not pursue. They would remain within engagement range of their FN FGRs-which, thankfully, was far past the engagement range of conventional military assault rifles-and wait for the enemy to emerge. They would have to wait for a new satellite to manoeuvre into position and sweep the area with thermal imaging cameras to confirm if the enemy was in there or not, but there were enough Marines back in town to hold down the fort without the comparatively small 350-man detachment.

They would wait the enemy out. A few minutes in, the order came down from command-they were to shoot to kill as opposed to trying to wound the commandos and bring them in for questioning.
The Marines would be more than happy to comply.

As the Salzlander aircraft approached Britannian airspace, a group of LY910 Shadowhawks and RA-33 Tempest fighters came out to meet them. The Britannians were fairly certain that no enemy aircraft were within their airspace, but with the recent stunts the enemy had pulled, Command wasn't taking any chances.

Various airfields-both military and a few civilian-had been cleared to accommodate the massive influx of Salzlander troops to the country. Most of these were close to supply depots and nearly all of them had barracks set up nearby, meaning that the friendly troops would hopefully feel somewhat at home for the duration of their stay in the war-plagued nation of Britannia.

The bulk of the cleared airfields were in and around Kensington, where High Command hoped to link up the Salzlanders with existing Britannian armoured and mechanised units in order to give them some heavier fire support. The Britannians knew that the Salzlander troops would be relying on them for ground-based fire support-and as the nation of Salzland had not abandoned Britannia by witholding aid, Britannia would not abandon Salzlander soldiers to face the enemy without a few extra tons of steel by their side.

by **Obamacain** » Mon Apr 18, 2011 4:27 pm

A person both bureaucratic and militaristic is dangerous; a person who is just one of them is a fool

-Frederick Gunning, Obamacainese Political Philosopher

It had been a long time since the Obamacainese had seen a good war. Good war? Some would scoff at the term and call it an oxymoron. However, the natives and pioneers of the Obamacainese Isles had called war a close friend for as long as they could remember. The Jonates and Barites, exiles cast into sea from their homeland, had stumbled across these Isles on mere accident. Only through war did they shape it - make it their own. Warriors became respected well into the 20th century in Obamacainese society. If you could kill you could survive, ironically only to fight another day. When a people are cast out so violently it is only natural that they will cling to violent survival tactics and values.

The times of the needed violence in the Obamacainese Isles had long past, however. A swift civil uprising had defeated the social boundaries in Jonate society and had created a unified Obamacain. The revolutionary Barohn Obamacain had stressed education and infrastructure over military. These changes made a slight impact on the people of the Isles. Arts and science, rather than guns and bombs, were the focal point of the society for a while.

But not every remnant of the militaristic society had faded away. Many people still pressed their children to join the forces, to fight for their country. It was no longer a time for divisions within Obamacain, but rather a time for a rise in nationalism and a growing sense of Obamacainese supremacy.

And to lead the tide in forging a new dynasty for Obamacain? Little did the people know, but the oil-loving President John Duck was also intent on forging a new future for Obamacain. Duck, who had suffered at the hands of extremists in his country, had grown tired of the second-rate position of Obamacain to other "stronger" nations. Duck, though, knew change had to come gradual. He knew that one had to play their cards at the right time, know when to throw in the chips.

A growing conflict in Britannia? It was hardly unheard of. It seemed that ever so often some country wanted to knock off Britannia, only to be beaten back by a large coalition. This seemed a little different to Duck however. This seemed like an opportunity he had been waiting for. Obamacain's navy and air force had never been their pride, and the army had grown a little rusty from years of only slight conflict. It was time to see how Obamacain scaled up against some of the other powerhouses in the world. It was time to test the field.

Casa Blanca, Obamacain
President's Office
Here we are again - in the office of President John Duck. It seems like John Duck has spent most of his nights pointlessly assessing documents with little importance. This one, however, brought John Duck to the point of rage. Duck had simply asked for the permission to mobilize the forces of Obamacain to help their ally of Reformed Britannia. The first two levels of the Pagoda, Obamacain's legislative branch, had passed the proposal. However, the top level (which consists of only 10, very powerful legislators) had stalled on the matter. Discussion had lasted the whole day and, as usual, might last a few months.

Damn pacifists Duck swore in his mind. To him it seemed like they were fools, not ready to lift a finger while their allies were dying in an unjust war. It was probably that fool Dale Barton, Duck's main rival in the Pagoda. Several times when Duck tried to get a bill through legislature Barton would block it, citing some backwards moral code or whatnot. It was only fitting that in response Duck would veto some of Barton's proposals when they reached him. An eye for an eye wasn't always so bad, as long as you were already blind. Chances were it wasn't all Barton's fault. Most of the Pagoda members were worried about their upcoming elections. Seems that there is nothing like an election to scare a politician out of his wits in a sore attempt to please all the people he pissed off over his term.

Duck sighed. Being President was tough in this situation. There was always something people wanted done. Luckily, Duck knew how to pull his strings. When the legislators wouldn't allow his mobilization to go through, there was always way to make it go through. Duck hated doing this, but he hated the idea that his allies were dying more (and also he despised the idea of being the onlooker on the world stage where he believed Obamacain should be the main actor).

There was always limits to pulling strings, however. Sending a million troops would never pass. It had to be something small for the moment, a quarter million or so to lighten the mood. The real kicker would come later when the legislators would hopefully pass the mobilization bill. Then the real pain would be dealt.

War Room
"Working Out the Kinks"
Sometimes assembling the top officers in an administration was a good thing. But the Obamacainese military officials of the day had such conflicting beliefs that it was almost impossible to talk over them. That's why John Duck liked to assembled to men at night. The officials were too sleepy then to put up a good argument.

It was a wild circus of people in the room. General Tom Uruk sat on the right hand side of President John Duck. Some could see this as a symbolic thing but it was mostly due to the fact that John Duck preferred not to have to look directly at Uruk and rather preferred to have him in his peripheral vision. Duck didn't have anything particularly against Uruk, well besides the fact that Duck thought of Uruk as an indecsive coward of a general. Duck had preferred General Mao Marx. Marx had been an authoritarian general but had a speech that could rally any amount of demoralized troops. But it seemed in the end Marx had been too strong of a mind. Sometimes problems get to the best of us, in Marx's case a bullet found a way through his skull.

Uruk was sitting next to the Vice Generals, Ante Galic, a strategist with some socialist tendences; Robert Dujmovic, who was intelligent but failed to apply his knowledge to the field; York Bondera, a special agent with little training with large amounts of troops; and Gordon Tomic a rather average Vice General with a surprising knowledge of artillery. Several other faces filled the room from Marquis General Reggie Knox, who had been captured in an extremist country and forced into dangerous drug tests to Crown General Dan Tomas a dark-minded yet promising young soldier. Admiral Luther was also in attendance on Duck's left side.

"So as you all are aware, we are going to go into the current conflict in Reformed Britannia. Myself and Admiral Luther have worked out the naval numbers," Duck said showing a statistic on the introductory naval forces

The group looked over the numbers. A few people looked surprised, some indifferent, and yet others provided blank responses mostly due to their lack of sleep. "Aren't those numbers a little small for such a large conflict? I mean they are large but for a Britannian War?" Reggie Knox chimed in. Knox hadn't much experience with naval warfare, only having been on a naval vessel during an invasion once. How it went? Well, let's just say it isn't his most fond memory.

"Let's just say that the people in the Pagoda don't think this is as a serious matter as we know it is," Duck said with a serious tone. This quieted the already silent room. "Now let me be clear. We will not allow our allies to throw their lives away in an unjust war. We will defend their right to govern with our guns and with our lives. We have done so before and we will not stop now." The meeting wasn't over but Duck's message was the same throughout. They would go, and they would win.

Gane Victoria
Naval Docks
It is never easy to mobilize. So many factors must be considered. Supplies have to be prepared for the voyage and for the assault. Fuel and gas has to be estimated. Tanks and other pieces of machinery must be prepared and rolled onboard. If there is one thing for certain it was that it would take the OC forces a while to reach Britannia.

Luckily, some of the ships had just gone on a humanitarian effort. These ships had many extra supplies already prepared and were fueled fairly well. Mobilization would go faster than expected but would take a while. People were dying, and death did not wait for the Obamacainese to prepare.

by **Gibet** » Mon Apr 18, 2011 7:15 pm

Krakow, Gibet
(Newly-Renamed "New Babylon")

The once proud city of Krakow now lay in ruins following the military coup of the century. In a daring move, the S.S.--the elite section of the Gibetan Armed Forces--had siezed power following the detonation of a massive warhead (non-nuclear) within the very confines of the Reichstag itself. Under the disguise of the Fuhrer's back-up plan, Operation: Valkyrie, they siezed power to prevent total break-down within the Reich. Now, their leader, ReichFuhrer Hans Von Sturmgiest, was named Fuhrer and called an emergency Contingency meeting with-in his temporary headquarters in Aachen.

A single figure paced back and forth under the dim-lights the lit the room around it. The figure, roughly six-feet tall, was addressing a group of Military Commanders before him--sitting around an oblong Oak-wood table. He suddenly stopped and placed his hands firmly on the table, leaning with his weight against the mighty-Oak slab. He smiled and proceeded.

"Ladies and Gentlmen, we are now the Reich-Government and we are now in complete control of the Reich. Our first order of business is to continue the rebuilding process of New Babylon--the future grandesque capital of our great empire. I have been assured, by my personal Architect, Herr Speer, that our capital with be a marvel of achitectural genius. However, our real-primary goal is to re-affirm our holdings in the world. Starting with the re-introduction of Northern-Gibet into the Greater-Reich. The only problem, of-course, is that Nitom is determined to hold onto and even expand their on empire into foreign-lands. They've already showed this by their un-warranted attacks against our glorious ally, Reformed Britannia.

I cannot stress-enough how important it is that Britannia not fall into Nitomian hands. I have already sent my Chief-Ambassador, and my very good friend, Dr. Friedrich Stiener to asses the quality of Britannian Defence Forces and advise Britannia's Government and Military Commanders of our plans for this conflict. Meanwhile, I'd like to send as much supplies--food, tanks, planes, guns--all of it that can be, shipped to Britannia. As well as have the Fifth and Fourth Army-Groups, commanded by Field-Marshal Wilhelm Keitel, laucnh major strikes into Nitomian-held Gibet.

We will help stretch Nitomian forces to their limits. They very-well can't attack Britannia and other full-on when they have to worry about our-own troops attack their "sovereign" empirial soil. I am willing to commit every soldier possible to this campaign. That's close to several million men, tanks, jets, and other equipment. This will be the largest Military Campaign ever attempted by our Armed Forces. I am sure you will all do your jobs as best you can. Now, you're all dismissed. And I'll expect a Staff-Report with-in the next....say, seven hours. Commanders, you have my blessings. May almighty God bless us and lead-us to victory in this most-just and Holy campaign aganst Terrany and oppression. Let the troops rest tonight......for tomorrow, we launch Operation: Blue-Ridge. It will begin with massive air and artillery assaults all along the border with Nitomian-Gibet. Then be followed by strategice airstrikes and the assaults by ourground-forces. God speed and good luck."

With that, the staff of decorated commanders left the room and their Fuhrer; the very same man who, although appearing quite calm and nearly-harmless (being sickly-thin), had strangled the life out of former-Fuhrer Jurgen Stroope as he lay amongst the ruins of the Reichstag.

Kensington International Airport

The small, Black private-jet descended rapidly towards the runway as it's passengers and crew prepared for the landing. Inside the plane's passenger area, sat only six people, five of which were dressed in the instantly-recognizable Black Uniforms of the Elite-S.S. Death's Honor Guardsmen. The other, dressed in a white Military tunic and uniform, decorated with numerous medals and ribbons, as well as carrying an incredibly decorative sword (made of titanium-steel and emblazened with ivory, gold, and Rubies) sat holding a dark-brown briefcase in his lap, silently sipping a glass of wine.

The man across from him, (one of the five S.S.) was a Major-General in the S.S. and also was drabbed in a number of medals and awards. He was scarred across his face from an explosion while protecting the former-Fuhrer, Jurgen Stroope. He now sat as the right-hand man of one of the most-inffluencial people in the new Reich; Friedrich Stiener.

Inside the cockpit, the two pilots made the varous checks for landing before confirming with the tower that they were clear to land.

"This is White-Dove to Ground Control; requesting clearance for landing, over."

by **Alexiandra** » Mon Apr 18, 2011 11:03 pm

Retconned due to technical issues.

by **Salzland** » Tue Apr 19, 2011 6:28 am

OOC: Right, I think it's time for the God modes to be turned off. Reformed Britannia has been remarkably tolerant of them thus far, but enough is enough. After all, it's one thing to stage a terrorist attack in foreign country but it's quite another to fire up the ol' teleporter and spawn an entire army there, complete with thousands of tons of front-line military equipment.

First, on a general basis I would like to refer everyone to the official definition of Godmoding. viewtopic.php?p=1354649#p1354649

In the interests of time, I'll only be briefly covering the posts from the last 48 hours or so. First, Nitom, viewtopic.php?p=5389831#p5389831 Come on, you've been here long enough to know that you can't have a post stating (paraphrased) "We moved a weapons satellite into range and fired ze missile and it exploded, target destroyed el yay!" Declaring an opponent's losses is a classic God mode, and so is launching an attack without giving your opponent a chance to respond. Frankly, I was going to blast your missile satellite (and the missile it fired) out of the sky, but Britannia decided to take the loss for the sake of the RP. He should not have been in that position to begin with.

Alexiandra and Dorlania, hoo boy. I won't talk about the actual commando drop because RB decided to just go with it (although I suspect Dorlania's getting an ignore for single-handedly defeating the entire Britannian military with 50 guys), other than to say that for future reference, if RB hadn't decided to go with it then that plane would've been blown out of the sky before it even got close to his country. As Francis Gary Powers learned back in the 1960s, flying fast at a high altitude doesn't make you safe, or invisible. Flying in a lumbering Globemaster just makes you a bigger, slower target. As evidenced by the Britannian defense forces firing upon the paratroopers (and the Globemaster) the moment the troops hit the ground.

The three major problems I'm going to spend time with are the "rebel" army, the FOAB and the remarkable durability (and omniscience) of your troops. To begin, where in the name of God did this rebel army come from? You air-dropped a handful of troops, for all intents and purposes, on top of a major Britannian military base and had these rebels right there to meet them, with what I can only assume are fixed SAM sites (including air-search radars) and tanks(!) without anyone being the wiser and without the Britannian government having any clue that there's apparently some organization that has thousands of tons of front-line military equipment, including tanks, explosives, RPGs and SAMs, operating within their territory. The rebels have apparently set up a major base of operations literally a five minute jog down the road (and on the same road, apparently, since you have people and tanks driving right from this rebel facility to RB's military base), without anybody thinking it odd that all those SAM sites and tanks were just sitting there right next door.

Moving off of that subject, there's no way the FOAB plan would work. We're talking about something that weighs seven metric tons, is loaded with (basically) gasoline, and is intended to not only slam into the ground intact but then be safely transported several kilometers. Conceeding that the bomb is even present in Britannia since he allowed the transport aircraft to lumber in and drop it, by the time your troops got to it it would've been nothing but an empty bomb casing sitting on ground soaked in gasoline. You could put as many parachutes as you want on it, but when you take something that weighs seven metric tons and is not designed to impact the ground, then have it impact the ground, you end up with broken equipment. Human beings, which generally weigh no more than ninety kilograms, can (and do) break limbs or suffer other injuries when they hit the ground hooked up to one parachute, and that's knowing how to properly land and distribute the impact. A seven metric ton bomb heaved out the back of an airplane has no such luxury.

So, once your paratroopers and their cloaked rebel allies drag the remnants of this bomb out of its impact crater, in the middle of the airstrikes, artillery strikes and (presumably) being engaged by small arms fire and the autocannons on the IFVs RB sent out, the first thing they think of is that there must be a satellite overhead watching them. Never mind that they would've been tracked by conventional radar for the final thousand miles or so (or further, depending on whether Britannia took my suggestion from last year and began fielding OTH-Backscatter radars) of their flight, were landing near a base which almost certainly had sentries who could look up and who knew what military aircraft and parachutes looked like, and could likely launch and maintain UAVs or helicopters (and potentially did for perimeter security, in case any rebels with tanks decided to just show up one day). Despite all of that, it would have to be a satellite watching them. Certainly you can see the leap in logic, especially since none of your troops deployed with telescopes.

There are other general problems with the RP (such as Alexiandra's tractor-trailer blitzkrieg into RB's base), but those are mostly contingent on other God modes (such as the opposing forces' general, remarkable resistance to things like bullets, incapacitating gas, strafing runs and massed artillery fire). Those types of problems can be addressed as they come up.

There is one thing I am unclear about, though. Alexiandra, what are you firing ASAT missiles at? Presuming that you could even fire them off of a submarine, you're only going to have a range of a few hundred miles for the missiles, and you will have no long-range radar guidance or fire control for the missiles, so you're basically just shooting into the air and hoping to score a hit. The only thing close to being in range would be my Firefly satellites, so I want to clarify what the target is so that I know whether I have to respond. Thanks in advance.

by **Alexiandra** » Tue Apr 19, 2011 7:59 am

Salzland wrote:OOC: Right, I think it's time for the God modes to be turned off. Reformed Britannia has been remarkably tolerant of them thus far, but enough is enough. After all, it's one thing to stage a terrorist attack in foreign country but it's quite another to fire up the ol' teleporter and spawn an entire army there, complete with thousands of tons of front-line military equipment.

First, on a general basis I would like to refer everyone to the official definition of Godmoding. viewtopic.php?p=1354649#p1354649

In the interests of time, I'll only be briefly covering the posts from the last 48 hours or so. First, Nitom, viewtopic.php?p=5389831#p5389831 Come on, you've been here long enough to know that you can't have a post stating (paraphrased) "We moved a weapons satellite into range and fired ze missile and it exploded, target destroyed el yay!" Declaring an opponent's losses is a classic God mode, and so is launching an attack without giving your opponent a chance to respond. Frankly, I was going to blast your missile satellite (and the missile it fired) out of the sky, but Britannia decided to take the loss for the sake of the RP. He should not have been in that position to begin with.

Alexiandra and Dorlania, hoo boy. I won't talk about the actual commando drop because RB decided to just go with it (although I suspect Dorlania's getting an ignore for single-handedly defeating the entire Britannian military with 50 guys), other than to say that for future reference, if RB hadn't decided to go with it then that plane would've been blown out of the sky before it even got close to his country. As Francis Gary Powers learned back in the 1960s, flying fast at a high altitude doesn't make you safe, or invisible. Flying in a lumbering Globemaster just makes you a bigger, slower target. As evidenced by the Britannian defense forces firing upon the paratroopers (and the Globemaster) the moment the troops hit the ground.

The three major problems I'm going to spend time with are the "rebel" army, the FOAB and the remarkable durability (and omniscience) of your troops. To begin, where in the name of God did this rebel army come from? You air-dropped a handful of troops, for all intents and purposes, on top of a major Britannian military base and had these rebels right there to meet them, with what I can only assume are fixed SAM sites (including air-search radars) and tanks(!) without anyone being the wiser and without the Britannian government having any clue that there's apparently some organization that has thousands of tons of front-line military equipment, including tanks, explosives, RPGs and SAMs, operating within their territory. The rebels have apparently set up a major base of operations literally a five minute jog down the road (and on the same road, apparently, since you have people and tanks driving right from this rebel facility to RB's military base), without anybody thinking it odd that all those SAM sites and tanks were just sitting there right next door.

Moving off of that subject, there's no way the FOAB plan would work. We're talking about something that weighs seven metric tons, is loaded with (basically) gasoline, and is intended to not only slam into the ground intact but then be safely transported several kilometers. Conceeding that the bomb is even present in Britannia since he allowed the transport aircraft to lumber in and drop it, by the time your troops got to it it would've been nothing but an empty bomb casing sitting on ground soaked in gasoline. You could put as many parachutes as you want on it, but when you take something that weighs seven metric tons and is not designed to impact the ground, then have it impact the ground, you end up with broken equipment. Human beings, which generally weigh no more than ninety kilograms, can (and do) break limbs or suffer other injuries when they hit the ground hooked up to one parachute, and that's knowing how to properly land and distribute the impact. A seven metric ton bomb heaved out the back of an airplane has no such luxury.

So, once your paratroopers and their cloaked rebel allies drag the remnants of this bomb out of its impact crater, in the middle of the airstrikes, artillery strikes and (presumably) being engaged by small arms fire and the autocannons on the IFVs RB sent out, the first thing they think of is that there must be a satellite overhead watching them. Never mind that they would've been tracked by conventional radar for the final thousand miles or so (or further, depending on whether Britannia took my suggestion from last year and began fielding OTH-Backscatter radars) of their flight, were landing near a base which almost certainly had sentries who could look up and who knew what military aircraft and parachutes looked like, and could likely launch and maintain UAVs or helicopters (and potentially did for perimeter security, in case any rebels with tanks decided to just show up one day). Despite all of that, it would have to be a satellite watching them. Certainly you can see the leap in logic, especially since none of your troops deployed with telescopes.

There are other general problems with the RP (such as Alexiandra's tractor-trailer blitzkrieg into RB's base), but those are mostly contingent on other God modes (such as the opposing forces' general, remarkable resistance to things like bullets, incapacitating gas, strafing runs and massed artillery fire). Those types of problems can be addressed as they come up.

There is one thing I am unclear about, though. Alexiandra, what are you firing ASAT missiles at? Presuming that you could even fire them off of a submarine, you're only going to have a range of a few hundred miles for the missiles, and you will have no long-range radar guidance or fire control for the missiles, so you're basically just shooting into the air and hoping to score a hit. The only thing close to being in range would be my Firefly satellites, so I want to clarify what the target is so that I know whether I have to respond. Thanks in advance.

The rebel army is a group of revolutionaries that we armed and gathered together. Also they were Anti Aircraft rockets mounted on the backs of trucks. Also sorry about the satellite bit, I was tired. Also resistance to bullets or strafing never happened. We lost like ten troops from a single airstrike at the start. To be honest I could write better, but I can't get on a real computer atm and I am short on time. So I will retcon my involvement I guess if you guys think this is too much. RB didn't seem to mind so I didn't either. But whatever.

A Changing World (OPEN, MT, ATTEN: Reformed Britannia)

Declaration of War

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