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A soft click signaled the closing of a door and the Cambodian general looked up from his shiny boots. First puzzled at the change of nature, then relieved as the figure entering strolled towards him. "Just got the call from command." he said, "I think we sated their curiosity enough."
The Cambodian general grinned, "Ah, thank you." he said beaming, "I guess there's no secrets among friends then."
The Chinese officer laughed as well, "Well it was more allocating the time of some aircraft." the Chinese officer said. In comparison to the Cambodian officer he was younger, perhaps forty something. The Cambodian was likely well into his late fifties, loose skin hanging from his chin and cheeks. Broad ears peaking out from under his cap.
The Chinese officer brandished a narrower face. An exaggerated brow gave way to a prematurely balding head.
"However General Chea Nyung Taen," the Chinese officer added, "The fact you're moving in to support the UFI has peaked the commander's interests. And they request an additional party to accompany you."
"So, Jiung Shaoquang, you're saying we will not be traveling to India alone?"
"Not at all." Jiung said with a coffee table smile, "I've volunteered my service to accompany you. My post will be over seen by Brigadier Wen Huo during my absence. I shall be flying in with you."
The elderly Cambodian looked bemusedly taken back, "I don't see any issue with this." he said, "So, when will we be leaving and when?"
"They're already shot a message to the UFI." Shaoquang said, "My soldiers will be moving in late tomorrow. We're permitting you to move ahead. The UFI's been notified of our arrival and will be expecting us. So I can think you'll receive information on where their commanders want you in regards to what's going on. Our best landing bet will be in Dhaka, but that's subject to change, I think they're hoping for Dhaka at least.
"I'll be following with my "Chengdu Reds" shortly after. Probably land later that day.
The General nodded, "How many can I expect at our back then?"
Shaoquang seemed to think for a bit, scratching at his head. "Imagine near to hundred thousand." At the bemused expression on the Cambodian face Jiung added: "My brother commands larger."
My DeviantArt, so sexy
The car, an elderly, beat-up affair that looked to be overdue at the junkyard, puttered down the road, backfiring wildly. The occupants were having a hard time looking past the car’s too-tight shocks, which caused every bump—and there were many—to be felt. Some attempted to distract themselves with the beautiful midmorning scenery that Lazio had to offer. The rest tried to sleep it off. Neither option was very successful.
“How long until we arrive?” one of the men in the back, dressed in somewhat unfitting clothing for the ride—a black uniform, topped off with a tactical vest—asked irritably. The man riding shotgun, a young Italian fresh from the civilian life who went by the name of Marco Bacchiega, shrugged. “I ask,” he said in broken Spanish, and did so to the driver, who fired back a quick burst of unintelligible Italian before returning his gaze to the road. The translator looked back. “Almost there,” he said happily. Bacchiega was the only one among the group that seemed immune to the roller coaster they were currently trapped in.
The Cazadore resumed his attempts at sleep; they were fruitless, and several seconds later he raised his head. “Almost as in—“
He was cut off by the car’s sudden cessation of movement. The translator bounced out of the front seat and held open the one of the rear doors for the Spanish, who gladly obliged, rolling out of the cramped cabin somewhat ungracefully. When they came upright, they were greeted by the sight of two grizzled-looking men in ragged campaign clothes who had materialized from a patch of bushes on the side of the road. The only semblance of a uniform was a red rag wrapped around each man’s right arm. One was chewing something. Bacchiega immediately walked up to them.
“These men are representatives of Spain, and as such need to see Consul Tullus as soon as time will permit,” he said. The taller of the pair grinned at the new recruit’s formality. “Okay,” he said simply, and, after beckoning to the two Spanish, turned and walked away. The commandos followed in silence, noting the presence of camouflaged pickets along the road before leaving.
The Romani took them through the bushes they’d come from and onto a winding pathway, covered completely by the thin Italian poplars so common in this region. (If poplars don’t live in Italy, they do now.) The trees provided welcome shade for the black-clad Cazadores, who were sweating heavily after their car ride. (I don’t even know what a poplar looks like. Pines and oaks are pretty much my entire tree knowledge.) However, the path soon opened up into a massive staging area. Literally thousands of men had squeezed into a tiny valley north of Rome. The Cazadores’ first thoughts were along the lines of This is a complete security nightmare.
The two rebels looked very proud of the scene, though, so the Spanish kept quiet.
After taking a somewhat long route around the encampment, the group arrived at Consul Tullus’ tent, a shambled affair even smaller than Marius’. SPQR was emblazoned on the flap. The man himself stood outside, discussing the coming attack with several officers. The Cazadores arrived just in time to catch a faint snippet of Italian from the consul before he waved the officers away. They had no way of understanding the man’s speech, but their escorts heard him say something along the lines of “…know this is insanity. You’ve got to try.”
As his visitors exited, the consul turned, an expression of almost-joy illuminating his face at the sight of the uniformed men. “You, I assume, are the Spanish Marius told me about?” he said. His Spanish, though not perfect, was a welcome relief from Bacchiega’s.
The Cazador known as Casillar stepped forward. “Yes, sir. We’re the air support, at least for all intents and purposes.”
Tullus grinned. The Spanish were late, but they were here. “Good. We’ll be needing all we can get. I don’t know if Marius told you anything about the attack, but we won’t just be walking in. There’s an entire infantry division tasked with Rome’s defense, along with two wings of fighters. I myself am not confident that we’ll do anything but go out in a blaze of glory, but at least our attacks will divert Batista’s attention from the north.”
One of the escorts cut in. “Actually, sir, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but essentially the entire world just declared war on Batista. Heard it on the radio before I got here this morning. Spain’s gone official about it; they declared war jointly with Portugal this morning. I heard the Balkan League or whatever—“he paused, spitting out a stream of tobacco juice before continuing—“just invaded. The news won’t tell how where they are, but from what I can tell they penetrated pretty deeply. We also got Malta and Brazil’s support, although that means ****-all…sir,” he finished uncomfortably, remembering who he was addressing.”
Tullus’ mind =’d blown. He stepped back. “So what you’re saying is that Spain and the Balkan League are attacking Batista right now?” The rebel nodded.
“Well, we might as well commence the attack; we’ll get backup from one of the two at some point. At this point, our only worry is whether it’s Spain or the League that hits us first.” He laughed; the men around him paused in their preparations momentarily to catch a glimpse of their consul in a good mood. It was a rare occurrence, to say the least.
“Buglers! Sound the march!”
Tullus turned to the Cazadores. “Oh, before I forget. You think you could get your boys to take out those Italian planes while they’re on the ground?”
"Come midnight tonight, it will be done." The Cazador affirmed. He then excused himself from the presence of Consul Tullus, making his way to a rocky promontory overlooking the valley from which he could get a good radio signal from.
Airspace over Southern Lazio, Italy - Midnight, January 28, 1977 ((Just a few hours before the Battle of the Tyrrhenian Sea))
A pair of nimble Spanish Fantasmas soared northward, high over the Apennine Peninsula flying with all cockpit and wing lights turned off. Having taken off from the aircraft carrier La Ira de Dios steaming down from the Aegean Sea toward Italy, the planes flew over the southern half of the Italy toward Rome in response to an air support request from Cazador advisors to the Romani within Italy. The quarter moon in the cloud-free stratosphere above the Spanish jets did little to illuminate the sky, leaving the Spanish planes well hidden in the dark sky. Flying well above the radar ceiling, the Spanish jets easily evaded Italian detection by radar, even though the Spaniards were never in control of the southern half of Italy and didn't know anything about Batista's anti-aircraft capabilities there. From this height, even with little cloud cover over Lazio, no human pilot could make out any landmarks in this darkness. Flying an attack sortie on this night seemed like an impossible task, and it would be if the pilots flying the fighters were not equipped with the same cutting-edge night-vision goggles as the Cazador Special Forces units. In the green-tinged world of their goggles, the pilots could see as if they were flying during the day. However, their ability to see easily in this darkness was made up for by the fact that the resolution of their vision was now rather poor. How well the pilots conducted this raid with the night vision goggles during stealthy nighttime aerial attacks would determine whether or not this practice would be used again in the future by Fuerza Aerea pilots.
The outline of the city of Rome could easily be seen ten miles away by the Spanish pilots. The ancient city, while barely visible to the naked eye, literally glowed in the green tinge of the of the pilots' night vision goggles. As the fighters came right over the Vatican City, they could barely see because of the city lights interfering with their goggles. They adjusted their goggles to the slightly higher light conditions, and then located crisscrossing tarmac lines that signified the Roman airport. One of the fighters suddenly banked on its side, suddenly diving straight down toward the airport, his wingman followed suit descending swooping down nearly vertically at the Roman airport.
By the time the Italian radar tower detected the incoming raiders, it was far too late. The two jets let a hellish barrage from their giant mounted dual miniguns as they dived at the Italian airbase connected to the airport. A spray of hot lead streamed into the Italian hangars, assuredly ripping the aircraft stowed within to shreds. The Spanish fighters broke out of their dive at the last second and brought their speed down as low as they could while staying airborne. The poor resolution of the goggles proved to be a minor inconvenience to the pilots and they were easily able to pick out truck-mounted anti-aircraft guns and obliterate them with a short burst from the miniguns. Within the space of a few minutes, the Italian air base was nothing but a cluster of smoldering hangars and fire. Just as swiftly as they had come, the Spanish Fantasmas had disappeared into the night as in a way befitting of their namesake while air raid beacons scanned the skies above Rome and anti-aircraft shells exploded uselessly above the city.
With the Italian Air Force's Roman contingent obliterated, the Fantasmas screamed back into the low stratosphere and flew with all due haste toward Barcelona instead of flying back to La Ira de Dios. The captain of the aircraft carrier had given the pilots explicit orders not to fly over the Tyrrhenian Sea that night for some reason.
Tyrrhenian Sea ((Back on normal PoW time))
Amidst the confusion of the naval exchange between the ships of the Italian Fleet, a rippling wave of fire on the western horizon heralded the arrival of the Spanish Armada within firing range. With the madness of the friendly fire incident occurring, the entire Spanish fleet had managed to sail well within radar range of the Italian line of ships either by distraction of the friendly firing of the Nettuno, ineptitude of the Italian admirals, or both and were now arranged into their own column of warships bound to intersect with the Italian fleet at a low angle. Aboard the Spanish aircraft carrier Caballo Palido, Admirante Javier Oviedo watched from the bridge, waiting for the carnage to unfold.
Nothing. Only blackness.
"How did this barrage go?" An ensign asked the admiral.
"I'm not sure." The admiral replied. "I can't see a goddamned thi- Oh-ho! There we go!" The admiral exclaimed excitedly, producing a telescoping looking glass from his breast pocket and looking at a dim explosion caused by an exploding Italian warship on the eastern horizon. "That would be a direct hit, gentlemen... and there we have another hit. Gentlemen, I believe we have caught the Italians with their pants down!" The admiral declared with a grin. He picked up the bridge's microphone and brought it to his lips.
"Excellent work. All battlegroups continue at your current heading and continue firing at will." He ordered. He then switched over to the inter-ship intercom. "I need some fighters scrambled over the Italian fleet as soon as possible. We need a pair of eyes in the air to tell us if our barrage is on the mark... I can't see a goddamned thing from here."
They and nine other contubernia, spread out in various makeshift blinds, lay before the tiny hamlet of Rocca di Cave, unremarkable save for a wrecked castle within its boundaries and the fact that it was essentially the western gate into Rome. As such, it was a vital target and would be among the first areas attacked. But the signal had yet to come, and so the Romani simply lay in the cold, exposed and shivering violently.
An earsplitting shriek shattered the night air. The milites looked up to see several dark shapes tearing through the night sky overhead. The shapes shot in the direction of Rome, and as the western sky was illuminated with spotlights and flak, the decanus let out a whoop and leapt forward with his men. The attack had begun.
--
The first Roman assault was sporadic; an undefended Rocca di Cave was secured within an hour, Rocca di Botte fell after ten minutes, the Lake Albana area was taken after two hours of fierce combat. With small conquests like these, the Southern Legion gradually coalesced around two important rallying points: Castel Madama in the east and Albana Lazele in the south.
By this time the local divisio had become aware of the incursion, and despite their airfield lying in smoking ruin, launched a fierce counterattack southward and eastward, spearheaded by heavy armor. The Romani had taken up defensive positions at the advice of one of their Cazador advisors, but with the Italian armor and heavy infantry grinding ceaselessly at their lines, a bulge began forming in Albana Lazele. Here the defenders had focused their strongest assaults, and here the Romani were, slowly but surely l, giving way.
In the East, the Southern Legion, with control over the high ground and a crucial chokepoint into Castel Madama, suffered no such issues, holding the line stagnant. Neither side could advance; when the Italians first attempted to storm the enemy-controlled hills with armor, they were met with a volley of PIAT and RPG fire. The survivors abandoned the smoking hulks of their comrades on the hillside and pulled back. The RRC, on the other hand, had not attempted an advance, instead waiting for the Spanish Fantasmas to finish the job. The situation remained so as the night dragged on, until a final, desperate charge was attempted by the outnumbered Italians.
--
Matteo Dutto lowered his battered StG-44 after what seemed like days of continuous fire. His barrel had grown so hot as to render any further shooting useless, as he'd found out when he'd inadvertently tapped it and come away with a painful burn on his wrist. He shrugged to himself--what did it matter? He was almost out of ammo anyway, and in any case his comrades had him covered.
He and two others had taken shelter behind a felled tree, which sat atop the ridge overlooking Tivoli, the small town that the defenders had taken shelter in. There had been sporadic, isolated charges--his current situation was a result of one that had, needless to say, ended in failure--but for the most part, the lines had remained stagnant.
He risked a glance over the log and, seeing nothing, quickly yanked his head back to safety, barely evading a massive .303 round that streaked through the space his head had just occupied. Damn snipers saw everything, he cursed to himself. They'd already taken out two men near him, whose prostrate bodies lay nearby and filled the air with a pungent smell that he couldn't quite describe.
"Be more careful next time, dumbass," whispered the man--a stranger who he'd met during the battle--next to him. "I don't want to have to deal with another dead body."
Dutto snorted. "Very reassuring."
"Yeah, and I--"
"Cut the chatter," the man on the far end of the log hissed. "Big group of them massing down the hill. I don't know if we can hold them off." His nervousness was apparent, and some in the ill-disciplined Roman lines had already opened up, hopeless shots that only served to give away their position. Maybe--
An earth-shattering screech filled the air. "God dammit!" Dutto screamed but didn't hear, as the first artillery rounds struck the hilltop and he dove to the ground. Massive explosions literally shook the earth as the Italian guns remodeled the hilltop, and the screams of dying men were drowned out by the impacts. Blood was everywhere.
The isolated pops of gunfire had grown into a steady roar by the time Dutto came to. A quick glance around revealed...nothing. His cover, the log he'd been behind all night, was simply gone, as were the two strangers he'd taken shelter by. As was his left leg, severed below the knee.
Strangely, he felt no pain, although the sight of the stump gushing blood almost caused him to faint. He quickly looked away. Dutto's bleeding ears--he registered the fact that at least one of his eardrums had burst in a fairly detached, emotionless manner--could barely make out desperate shouting to his left and right, and the staccato roar of automatic fire above it. The Italians were charging, and they would take the hill, he realized fatalistically. He would die, too.
As the first Italian boots leapt over him, he lapsed into unconsciousness.
--
Tullus watched the carnage from a nearby hilltop, his face drained of all color. So this was how it would end. He was aware of the line bending in the south, but it had not broken, not yet. He'd been confident that the men in the east, the men he now watched fighting a desperate, loosing battle against Batista's storm troopers, would be able to hold. He'd been wrong.
Turning wordlessly from the scene, he looked directly at the Cazador accompanying him. "We...order your planes to hit the hill with incendiaries. Carpet bomb it completely. It's the only way."
One of his officers looked at him, shocked. "Sir, we've still got potentially thousands of men on that hill! They'll--"
"Die, si, but there are thousands more in Castel Madama that will be saved," the consul cut in. "It's a sacrifice that must be made." Tullus turned back to the Cazador. "Do it," he said, exhaling deeply.
The walls of the warm cantina didn't do well to muffle the sound of the hundreds of students looking for a bite of lunch. Kids no younger than eighteen, but no older than twenty milled about with textbooks under their arms. Thick clumps of young adults milled or stood about filling up the thin aisles between the tables and chairs. Posters advertising the Student's Group for Economic Equality, Academic Counseling, and the Campus Student's Politburo hung from the walls along with a menagerie of different posters of varying flavors. A notice board next to the door served as a kind of public message board declaring all manners of student activities unfit for posters, and a few sophomoric jokes (at least one condom had found its way onto the board with a hastily drawn note declaring it being free).
In the far corner, the organized chaos of the cantina was much more quelled. Standing by a side-door lurked Ji Winso, looking cautious and severely out-of-place with his pressed shirt and nervous hunch. Next to him stood a pair of double doors marked, "Professor's Lounge".
"You look like someone's bound to shoot you." Hua Hangxi noted, stepping towards the peaceful end of the chamber carrying a tray full of rice, a bowl of soup, and an egg roll. "And don't you eat?"
"I already ate." Li muttered.
"Well then," the elderly professor said, "Through here, it's a quieter and we don't need to worry about the fresh out of public education freshmen." he finished that sentence with an annoyed and burnt out sight. But continuing forward he pushed aside the doors Li stood next to. The military engineer followed him through.
The next room was much more peaceful. It had a feeling of Japanese zen, set apart from the chaos of rowdy late-teens. There was a distinct reason anyone that studied here for more than a year tried to avoid this part of the university. But a likely curse of the staff that this was their only really lounge.
As the pair entered through the doors a man sitting in a armchair in the far-corner stood to his feet. Raising his hand to the air he beckoned them over. "Ah, Cong Denhua," Hua said cheerfully as they made their way over, "As always I see you're never late."
"Yes, yes." Cong said bemusedly. Looking at him Li noted how... particular he looked. His worn brown suit looked several times more pressed than his and he had his napkin spread across his lap. He had his tray heavily segregated too between the meats and vegetables, a good inch-wide valley between the two. His full cheeks accentuating his rounded face, as well as body.
"So, I take it you'll be providing some insight from your studies then?" Hua said, sitting across from him. He pulled over a small un-foldable table. Li took his own seat. Together three sat in something of a circle, or triangle.
"As I said in the letter." Cong added, "I am willing to help. I've got no other projects going on and I'd like to investigate what this is about. Perhaps given the parameters of what I am to do, I could get some more resources on this job."
"As I was hoping so." Hua said, "Three minds are certainly better than two to any end." he added, "Especially given who this is for."
Cong's brow raised, "Whom?"
Nodding towards where Li silently Hua said, "I am under the impression it's for the military."
Cong looked over towards where Li said. His eyebrow seemed to gain more altitude over where it was previously. "You don't look very army, comrade." he said, "How so?"
"I'm a mere computer technician." Li responded quietly, "Well, I sort of lead the team."
Cong nodded, "Not a field man then." he said, "Well I guess this wouldn't be my first. Care to explain what this is for?"
"All I'm obliged to say is that it's for computer efficiency." Li said, "I'm not approved to say more."
"That much I figured." Cong nodded, "I guess the less is better. Although sometimes I wish I was given more so I know what I'm up against, or what the projects they contract me to research are going to be used for. They had me do solar cells last, I think I still can't say what for."
Cong nodded, "So what do we got so far?"
"A list of problems to address." Hua said, "Electrical efficiency as well as size and rigidity. I think we both know exactly how vulnerable a vacuum tube is. As I wrote, I'm sure your direct experience with semi-conductors will be an advantage to us."
Cong nodded, "Only as far as creating electricity." Cong said, "But I'll see what I can do."
Kumgang Korea
The same old house, the same agents. "So we're looking at Chun O-Sung." Cao said, "And we've got interests in Lee Mwuang-Hai and Sun Shi-Li."
"Those three look to be the best choices among us." Kwan said, rubbing his eyes. Several weeks of careful consideration, finally coming to a close. "Hua Chu and Kim Rong are also fairly moderate choices, but we're cautious of them for their Juche leanings. Yes?"
Cao nodded.
"Well I think we have it now." Chou sighed, putting out his cigarette on the bare wood of the end table next to him. The discussions on who should do what have bounced methodically around the IB safe-house in this corner of Korea while being bounced with their normal duties.
Cao nodded again. "I'll be heading off to Beijing soon for my regular debriefing. I'll be sure to bring this up to them and see if we can't get any support from them. If we can't, then this whole task is bust and we might as well break the Tokyo treaty now."
"Who don't we, South Korea isn't exactly Japanese now." Chou sighed, he was obviously tired.
"Because they're apart of some alliance with the Japs and that'll cause some grandiose diplomatic break-downs." responded Cao, "That's the last thing we need. Much too loud."
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Baleshwar
"The railway station is under attack!" the radios said, flushing the UFI to their feet, "Position is believed to be compromised. All units in the city of Baleshwar are ordered to contain the situation and block all routes into the city."
"God damnit it." an officer spat, standing up. Outside the small shack he set up in the city's alarm systems were beginning to blare. Running to the window he threw it up and shouted, "Lock and load!"
The men outside hesitated in their day. But snapped immediately to their arms at the order. Barging out the door of his shack into the south Baleshwar sun the officer continued his orders, "Blow these rails and see if you can contact the rural patrols. The city needs to be cut off now."
"Yes sir." a young private said, scrambling for another shack not too far off. In the distance pockets of gunfire were beginning to open up. The private bolted out with an arm full of charges. "Where you want them, sir?"
"Down this track going south, I want a whole kilometer stretch gone." the officer hissed. Flustering he continued, "I need to know more on this situation." he added, turning back to his shed.
"All units stationed in central Baleshwar are ordered to converge on the train-station and suppress the armed revolt. Rear-guard units are hereby ordered to direct a full urban evacuation north to Lakshmanath. Contact is being initialized with Kanthi and support is in route.
"The guard stationed in Nilagiri and Chandipur is ordered to report to Baleshwar. The men in Nilagiri are ordered to blow the roads to prevent support from Sudusudia and Bhadrak. There will be no compromising delay."
Hurried crowds brushed by the unit as they charged into the action. Dusty from the streets being kicked up in the streets making a soft milky haze. Side-by-side with the Baleshwar police the UFI soldiers in the city ran towards the site of the action. Coming around a corner an officer waved the leading sergeants into an alcove. "What's the situation?" the police officer asked.
"We have heavy gunfire from the train-station." the UFI officer said, "But that's nothing for you. Right now I need you and your men to help get these civilians out of the way."
Looking towards the military officer he said: "I need you to lead your squad to secure a position to get these jokers contained."
"What do we know about them?" the officer asked, as the police officer bolted out to gather his men.
"They came from over near Phandi Chhaka. From what I can get from my radio, Girish Bhatu's men are coming down from temple way to secure the northern front. He just started hauling a few minutes ago. We've got units from towards the schools covering the east.
"I think Jiban Brahdep is setting up in the cemetery on the west side of the tracks and will be looking to wrap around from there.
"Raje Durga I believe said something about blowing the tracks b-" he stopped momentarily as an explosion from the south ripped through the afternoon air. "blow the tracks."
(And now I go to work.)
My DeviantArt, so sexy
England
As the sun rose over the United Kingdom, the sound of a crowd was already heard. A group was gathered outside of Buckingham Palace, as the King stood on a podium, with both camera and radio crews all around. As soon as the clock hit 7:00, he began to give a speech.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen of Britain, and all others around Europe who are recieving this. I stand before you today to deliver a message that must be known to you all, regarding Switzerland. A few weeks ago, it was found out that the Swiss were the true masterminds behind the assassinations of so many of our people, including the old general, and the old Prime Minister. Through interrogation of the captured assassins, it appears that they had a much larger plan. The Swiss planned to place a spy in office as the new Prime Minister, after which they would have him sell both Britain and Ireland over to the Swiss, effectively making us their puppet. As you can imagine, this is something that will not be tolerated. As such, starting today, the United Kingdom is at war with Switzerland, and anybody who may try to assist them." After some applause, muttering, and all around surprise, the king continued.
"Now. I would like it to be known that we are not starting by attacking the Swiss directly. No, we are starting by helping others in our position, down in Greece. They have been living as a success of what the Swiss tried with us for the last couple of months. As you can imagine, they don't like it. There have been riots, protests, and uprisings recently. But what is going on today is much, much bigger. With our help, a rebellion is starting. One which will kick the Swiss out of Greece, and give it the freedom it deserves. Unknown to most, a fleet was sent out almost two days ago now, and should be near Spaina t this moment, on it's way to aid the Greeks. As soon as they arrive, Greece is as good as free. At the moment, the only support they will have is the soldiers down in Cyprus. While that may be a good source of help, it still isn't enough to outnumber the Swiss, which is what we need. Luckily, the Swiss navy is, well, lacking. They only have three trade ships, none of which will be able to aid them much against our war ships. So believe me when i say your family members on board those ships should have nothing to really worry about. I expect this to be a quick campaign, that will end in less than a week, if things go as planned. Thank you all for listening. May God watch over our men throughout this campaign. If any of you have questions, feel free to stay after and ask. I fully understand that some of you will."
With that, the camera and radio teams cut the broadcast, and people began to shoot up their arms, hoping to get their questions answered, to all of which the King replied in a good amount of time.
Prussia
After a good couple of hours worth of driving through Prussia, the convoy finally arrived in Berlin. All the British soldiers got out of the vehicles which they had been in, and got in a group together, though a few thanked the drivers first. Once they were all together, Brig. Howland, the officer for this small group of soldiers, gave them the order to stay were they were, outside the capital building, so he could go inside for the strategy meeting he was to have with both the Austrian and Prussian officers.
Gibraltar
It's been about two days of sailing so far for the British Fleet, and all had been going well. They managed to keep their pace, the weather was clear, and only a few people had gotten sea sick. Of course, that couldn't keep up. When one of the Midshipmen on board remembered about everything going on in Italy, and how the Spanish were involved, he quickly told the officer on board his vessel. Not wanting to have the Spanish to believe they were there to aid the enemy, Commodore Kearney instantly got on sending a message to the Spanish.
"Hello. This is Commodore Kearney of the British vessel Newash. I currently have a fleet needing to pass through the strait of Gibraltar, on it's way to aid Greece. Just making sure we won't get blown to bits trying to pass through. I repeat, we are just on our way to aid the Greeks."
Cyprus and Crete
Once all preperations were made, all men were on board, and all weapons were readied, the British frigate Marathon made it's way over to Cyprus, in order to aid the Greeks. When they finally arrived, the Greeks had been fighting for a good hour or two, and had already captured the entire Eastern half of Crete, and were currently fighting in Tympaki. The second the British ship docked, four tanks exited and made their way down onto the streets, followed by about 1500 British soldiers. Once all men, vehicles, and weaponry were off, the ship left the port, and began to make it's way over to the Western half of Crete, where it would be providing naval support, until the battle ended.
Once the British caught up with the main force of the Greeks, they instantly had the advantage over the Swiss in Crete. Together, there were about 6500 Greeks and English, and 3122 Swiss; 2370 less than there had been at the start of the rebellion. Not to mention, the Brits had tanks, and the second the Swiss saw that, they went running, and relayed the message to run. It wasn't until the combined forces got over to Khania, where the Swiss had all regrouped to, that they had seen another Swiss soldier. All citizens had been evacuated luckily, which at least showed the Swiss weren't completely evil. But, none the less, they still had to be taken down. When the forces arrived at Khania, they stopped, and called out to the Swiss.
"We will give you five minutes to surrender. If you do not take the offer, both our tanks and our naval battery will begin to fire upon you. If you want to live, give up Crete."
After about four minutes, there still had been no reply. This was surprising to everyone, seeing as they figured that the Swiss would have given up instantly. As the combined forces kept watch on the countdown, it wasn't until literally the last second that the Swiss gave a reply. A lone, young soldier walked out, holding a whiteflag fashioned out of a bed linen, and broom handle. As soon as they saw him, they lowered their weapons, and began to move in to capture the remaining Swiss. Sadly, this was a mistake. The reason the boy holding the flag looked so terrified isbecause he was a sacrifice. Bait. The second the Greeks and Brits were in range, hundreds, if not thousands of Swiss fired down on them from windows, doorways, and various other areas, leaving 341 dead, and even more running. It wasn't long before the tanks began firing upon the buildings, and the naval artillery was called in. Before long, Khania went from a city to a battlefield. Many buildings were completely destroyed, corpses littered the area, and gunfire, explosions, and yelling were all that could be heard. It didn't take long for the gunfire on the Swiss side to end, and for the various remaining soldiers that were still alive to run off toward the sea, jump in, and begin swimming for their lives. Of course, the Marathon was prepared for this, and had men capture as many of the Swiss as they possibly could, which ended up being about 753. 121 of the 874 survivors died in the water. When all was over, the city was looked over. 623 Swiss had survived, but were severely injured. The other 1746 were all dead. Of course, the Swiss weren't the only casualties. On the British and Greek side, 581 others had died, and 120 were injured. Most were Greek, but that's only because there were more of them. The last battle wasn't a pretty one, but it was a victory nonetheless. The Swiss wouldn't move on Crete, which would give the British fleet enough time to get there and turn the sides in their favor.
As soon as possible, the British and Greeks had gathered all the dead, and managed to get all the injured to the closest hospital; whether they were Swiss, British, or Greek. They made sure all were helped.
[Figured I would throw this in too.
16439 Swiss soldiers should be in Greece.
40000 should be in Switzerland, though you'll probably see more, since some people will wanna fight for their home, and to protect Breneman. :3]
~DED
Archduke Alfred, sitting at his desk, looking down at the papers that lay there, with a stressed look on his face. <So, the United Kingdom has officially pronounced war, stupid move on his part.> General Lueger knocks on the door of the Archduke's office "Archduke, you called for me?" said this harsh looking man in a strong German accent. "Yes General, i am needing you to serve as a military ambassador in Prussia, the United Kingdom has declared war on Switzerland, we will be working along with Prussia and the United Kingdom. We must talk about how we want to approach the situation, and i am not sure how the people will react." said the Archduke. "Alright, so how do you think i should approach it Archduke?" said General Lueger. "Well, i was going to offer to be on the defensive in Land Forces Command, but offer our Air Forces Command, i believe that is what will be needed. We will lock up the Switzerland/Liechtenstein borders. The people will only know about this after you come back from Prussia. I will be sending Oberst Schopp in with you, i hope you can relay this information with him." the Archduke had the sternest looking expression you can imagine. "Yes sir, when will i be leaving?" said the General. The Archduke finally looking up from the papers on his desk, "You will leave in 2 hours, you will be driven, it should take about 4 hours. I will call Oberst Schopp to me soon, you will tell him on the drive there. Do not disappoint me General." the Archduke stood up and when the General stood they shook hands. General Lueger turned, put his cap on as he walked out of the office. Archduke Alfred called the Air Forces Command, and asked to be directed to Oberst Schopp, when he reached him he told him to immediately come up to Vienna.
Vienna to Prussia
On the drive there, General Lueger relayed the information to Oberst Schopp "Oberst, you have been called up by the Archduke himself to go to Prussia with me, the United Kingdom has declared war on the Swiss, we will be offering the Air Forces Command's offensive, and taking the defensive with our Land Forces Command, specifically locking up the Switzerland/Liechtenstein borders. This is what we will try and get the Prussian's to agree on, we need to make a compromise with them. Alright, this drive is about 3 more hours to go." says the General looking down at the speedometer.
Prussia
Finally arriving in Berlin, the General noticed that the United Kingdom had sent a convoy, while the Austrians only offered two high ranking military officials. "Well, i British have already arrive, lets go Schopp." said the Lueger as he hopped out of the jeep. Walking up, whilst fixing their uniforms from the drive and placing their caps on their head correctly the two walked past the British troops. General Lueger and Oberst Schopp walked into the capital building for the strategy meeting with the Prussians, and the UK.
The first of many airplanes came over the horizon, heralding something new. In their first wave, they were a deep low hum over the still air of the tropical region. The structures of the old Republican India sat over the older, lower structures. But compared to the towering pillars of China, it was hardly massive. But it was sprawling.
The first aircraft touched down with a harsh squeal as the rubber met the heated tarmac of the airport - probably built in the late forties - and coasted down its length. Drawing up to a stop, the rear of the aircraft dropped down. Moments later a parade of Cambodian soldiers marched out, the general Chea Nyung Taen strolling out between the columns of men streaming out alongside of him.
"Namastai, general." an officer said, walking up to the landed aircraft as many more touched down around it, "Welcome to India. I'm Colonel Zilur Baiped."
"Afternoon colonel." the elderly Cambodian said walking forward, "I assume you're my welcoming party."
"Indeed I am. I'm sorry I'm not of an equal rank to you, but my handlers thought I am good enough."
"I'm honored to be greeted at all." Chaen Nyung said, walking up to him. "Where do they want us?"
"Things have changed very rapidly since we received initial notice." the Colonel said, "Our enemies have attacked Baleshwar in a surprised move, indicating an inside job. Things are rather tense as our IB training aids are going about on a manhunt for anyone part of this so called Punarjanam Movement. They're picking up all my best men and training them in investigation while dragging them around half the ****ing nation hunting them down.
"Plus my superiors have their attention on the south and defensive matters. I don't think they have time."
"Sounds like they need some relief." Chaen commented
"Yes. To that effect they decided we need some guns down south. Think you can get there?"
"Certainly."
"Good, the general's office and the regional governor is set up in what remains of the Ahsan Manzil. It's sort of missing a wall now, we're trying to fix that."
Salandi Forest
The afternoon sun hung over the two Dalits as they sat by a lake washing the sweat from their brows. The day was hot. But silent, empty. In the middle of the wilderness there was little around. "Where are we at?" Rettamalai asked, splashing his hands around in the glass-still waters of the lake. Cupping them he brought up a hand-full of water and drank the clear fluid.
Subramanya was quiet, looking around through squinted eyes. Looking out over the glassy, clear water he said in a calm, casual tone: "The Salandi Resevoir." he mused, "Probably ten kilometers from my home."
He paused again and squinted up into the clear sky, "East side of the reservoir I'd say."
"You know this area well I take it?"
"Of the year you knew me, I never told you about here?"
"No."
He nodded, "Well, before **** went mad and the government killed itself I used to come out this way when I was a teen. I think I was gone for days at a time. Hiked up here with my brothers from our home in Gopa."
Rettamalai nodded, "Is who we're looking for there?"
"If he's still alive." Subramanya sighed.
Rettamalai was going to ask who, but a loud crack of a stick broke the question. Jumping to his feet he turned to face a soldier with an old British Sten machine-gun. Panicking Rettamalai stumbled backwards and into the water where he fell with a loud splash. The soldier regarded him with a unamused look. "Who are you two?" he growled in a low voice, he cast a hard look to Subramanya and glowered, "Are with those GLA ****s?"
"GLA?" Subramanya stammered, "Hell no."
"Raising the gun more aggressively he pressed his interrogation, "Then why do you know the area so well? Are you spies!"
"No, no. We're not." Rettemalai stuttered, slowly crawling up from the muck. "We're from the north. United Fighters for India."
The soldier's stance seemed to loosen. Subramanya stepped forward and the man's gun snapped up to his shoulder. Stepping so quickly it was nearly like he was running he approached to the scar-bearing Dalit. He nearly stuffed the weapon into his face. "Settle down." Subramanya said softly, "We're comrades."
The mysterious soldier's breath was slow and deep. He glanced about at the two of them. "Honest." Subramanya added.
"How am I going to believe you?" the soldier growled. "You got some kind of identification? A note?"
Rettamalai looked up at Subramanya. "We don't." he said, dripping muck and water. The gun-man switched his attention from Subramanya to him, "We gave up our IDs and belongings before we came over here."
"Convenient." the gunman hissed.
"Honest truth or may Bagala strike me dead." Subramanya said pleadingly.
Looking to him the gunman gave an aggravated sigh. Obviously he wanted to shoot them both, but was conflicted if he should. "We'll figure this out." he said, "The two of you, step forward, keep ahead of me. I'll give you direction.
"Run or move out of command, and I swear by that same god I will strike you both dead." pausing momentarily, "All spies will be silenced."
Novosibirisk
In the cold Russian expanse the East Russian army, or what volunteered to stay behind had cleared away the crowd from the RMSM political center. Armed largely with metal rods they poked and prodded those who stuck behind to harass the government away. The clearing created enough of an opening for a convoy of armored cars to stream from the central yard of the apartments and thunder through the cold Russian streets.
Within a few hours they'll reach Omsk and Nikolov will begin his wait in the Cathedral.
Gobi-1
Mechanical humming was prominent in the large building as a large fan spun within a large glass tube. A trail of smoke trailing from a pole a ear-muffed engineer shot down the tube towards a vent. The snaking thread trailed over a kite-shaped ceramic model of an airplane tracing where the roaring air was going. On the outside of the tube a collection of engineers photographed and made notes on the wind-tunnel test.
Behind them a table full of alternative models were laid out along with their technical diagrams and other types of notes.
"Alright, kill it before we rip his arm off." one said. A switch was flipped and slowly the low hum of the fan died.
My DeviantArt, so sexy
//Right. We've been expecting you, Comodoro.// The Spanish customs and excise officer responded in accented English to the HMS Newash over the radio. //I can't forsee any problems that you or the rest of the fleet will experience en route to Greece provided that you restrict your route to the column of international waters south of Sicily. However, we do ask that all vessels avoid taking the route through the Strait of Messina due to the unfolding conflict in Italy. May you have a safe and uneventful voyage to Greece - proceed through into the Mediterranean and we'll forward the bill to the Royal Navy.//
((What? You guys didn't think you get to sail through the Strait of Gibraltar for free, did you?))
Lazio, Italy
Consul Tullus' Cazador adviser nodded in silent acknowledgement of the consul's orders. He tapped on the microphone within the mask that covered his face and dialed in a certain frequency on a portable radio strapped to his pack.
"Requesting an immediate air strike with incendiary payload at the following coordinates just to the east of Rome." He said emotionlessly into the microphone before continuing to read the coordinates of the hillside where the Roman line had been broken by the Italians. The Cazador's cold voice betrayed no sense of remorse despite the fact that he was signing the death warrant of more than a thousand men. Once the order for the airstrike had been concluded, he turned back to Consul Tullus.
"The fighters will be here any minute." The Cazador explained, he coldly reported. "The planes were already flying North from an aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean towards Genoa and redirecting them to this location was quite simple."
Shortly thereafter, the screaming roar of two Spanish Halcon fighters drowned out the cacophony of shouts and rifle reports on the hill below Consul Tullus and his entourage. In the pre-dawn darkness, neither Tullus nor anyone else saw the Halcones dive from the early morning sky and swoop just over the hill the Italians were streaming over, but the immediate results of the maneuver were as apparent as they were horrifying.
The first plane of the pair of Halcones plunged two convential explosive bombs onto the hillside, resulting in bright orange fireballs that engulfed Italians and wounded Romani alike. The second plane was the one that released four napalm bombs one-by-one on the hillside. The second pilot aimed the incendiary bombs into the swathes of fire that came from the first bombing, causing the jellylike napalm to ignite immediately and blanket several acres of the hillside in a roiling, hellish carpet of fire that incinerated everything in its path - Man and machine, Italian and Roman alike.
The roar from the engines of the two Halcones faded into the cold dark sky; the screams from their thrusters were soon replaced with the screams of agony from Italians and Romani as they burned alive in the inferno burning furiously on the hillside before Consul Tullus.
Tyrrhenian Sea
By dawn on the Tyrrhenian Sea, the effectiveness of the Spanish surprise assault on the Italian fleet was very apparent. Flotsam from seven sunken or sinking Italian warships littered the waves on the stretch of sea between Sardinia and Corsica. Italian sailors who had died from hypothermia in the frigid late-January sea floated lifelessly on the waves among burning bits of floating debris of the Nettuno, whose entire magazine room had been detonated from within by Cazador boarders. With nearly one out of seven of his vessels sinking or out of commission, the Italian admiral, Giordano Garibaldi, had pulled the Italian line of ships back into a cluster on the Sicilian side of the stretch between Sicily and Sardinia. This allowed his vessels to regroup from the initial attack, but it left a gaping hole in their blockade that would allow the Spanish ships to sail right to the Italian mainland.
Not surprisingly, the Spanish took full advantage of the 60-mile opening in the Italian blockade. Ten cruisers, 3 battleships, and a single Maltese frigate sailed past the battle into the open Tyrrhenian Sea and made a beeline straight for the Lazio coast while the rest of the fleet continued the attack on the Italian fleet. The remaining Spanish fleet continued to pound away at the clustered Italian fleet at range. Now that they could no longer depend on the cover of darkness to keep them safe from Italian shells, the Spanish were cautious to remain out of range and lob shells into the Italian fleet from just out of range of the Italian guns.
From the bridge of the aircraft carrier Caballo Palido, which was now little more than a floating strip of tarmac with its attache of fighters off flying sorties for the Romani on the mainland, Admiral Javier Oviedo watched with frustration from his looking glass as the Spanish rounds kept splashing down harmlessly around the Italian ships.
"We can't afford to keep wasting our tonnage like this." He grumbled, turning his ensigns. "Do we know where exactly the 8th bomber wing is yet?"
"Based on their last radio contact with us, they should be flying over Sardinian airspace en route to the mainland right now."A navigator with a large map of the western Mediterranean reported.
"Dial them and tell them to instead turn our way. If their bombs can take some of the **** out of these Italians, we can stop wasting our ammunition from the edge of our line of fire and close in for the kill."
"Understood, admirante."
(I think it's high-time we move them about. I think we dropped it and haven't moved it at all since China acquired these two...)
"Space has been made for one Augusto Pacheco and Abdul Kyhber from the detainment cells within the Poltala Palace.
"Heavy guard is to be exercised in the transport of these individuals and armed guards required for their transport. The use of pepper spray and non-lethal pacification methods are permitted. Shoot to Kill is authorized in extreme events, but does not supersede Shoot to Hinder.
"Abdul Khyber is to be allotted to the medium security Huangshan Detention Center for a maximum of five years. After which he shall either be enrolled on the IB payroll or be integrated into China as a reformed citizen.
"Augusto Pacheco is to be enrolled in the South Gobi High Security Compound for cited reasons of trained aggression and a direct member of a foreign espionage cell. An advisory agent will be assigned to him who will learn what he can of the Spanish military complex. Release pending confirmed integration for Chinese society or diplomatic tensions between Spain and China improve.
"Both cases are to be blind-folded and transported by separate means.
Chinese Central Intelligence Bureau, Beijing.
NPN Headquarters, Beijing
"And here we've shots of the ongoing road work in the south." a editor said, flipping a switch and running the projector for Wen Daohang. His leg bobbed up and down as he stroked his long white beard. His tired eyes watched as the projector screen at the head of the room flickered with light and images began to dance on the screen.
"I know we've sent out images similar for the '72 and '73 New Years when the I-1 and I-2 were finished." the editor said as a film of a large expanse of smooth road cut through the meadows and forests of southern China, "But as per infrastructural improvements the highway project is still the most significant."
Daoshang nodded apathetically as he watched as the car the camera was strapped to rolled on down the young stretch of road. The frames flickered to black and then came to life as a collection of shots showed high-way workers sitting down next to their machines eating from bowls of rice, smiling at the camera and talking among each other. Straight forward simple shot, one that cut to the work going on for the southern routes.
"How'v they progressed?" Daoshang inquired. The editor shrugged.
"From what I can gather when our camera men were there they were short of the meet-up point." he said, "Probably reached that point now."
Daoshang nodded.
"What others do we have prepared?"
"A lot of the same." the editor sighed, "All visual, we're lacking in the auditory department. Then again, this project hasn't always called for sound apart from the speeches we put over top and the odd song. But it makes for a rather boring watch without."
The chairman for the NPN nodded. "I'm getting too old for this."
"Sometimes I feel the same." the editor joked. Hopefully he looked up, and smiled when he saw the old man's shoulders rise in laughter.
"I think when all of this is done I'll announce my retirement." Daoshang smiled. The editor looked shocked and surprised.
"So soon?" he exclaimed. "But sir, you're only sixty-eight. You're still young and full of spark!"
"Don't patronize me." Daoshang reminded him. Turning in his seat he said: "But it's time to go home for good. Think you can handle it?"
The editor nodded as he pulled the reel off and began rolling it back up. "So I guess this is your swan's song?"
"Hardly." Daoshang groaned, "My Swan Song was twenty years ago. No, this isn't much of my own project. It's everyone's. The annual assignment. The annual gift to every media outlet in the nation."
Salandi Forest
The mysterious gunman put the two northerners through a winding path through the wilderness. Through trees, up hills, around bends, and then cresting over a rise. Coming to the peak of some hills. Subramanya spoke for the first time since the lake, "Are we going to the mines?" he asked.
The gunman silenced him with a rough grunt. Then, "Turn left here."
Obediently the two obliged and turned left along a thin animal run. Just a few feet away was a sharp rocky drop. Through the trees the faint appearance of a rocky pit dug into the side of the hill could be seen. A collection of buildings amid a ocean of trees.
At several times Subraymana tried to broker conversation with their escort. But each time he was silenced with a angry bark or sharp grunt. Rettemalai had taken to a state of submission and walked with his head bowed low and hands wrapped tightly in his black hair. Coming down the hill they stepped out onto a slightly wider path. A couple steps in and a new voice rang out, "Stop!"
The trio halted in their tracks. A trio of armed gunmen carrying well-worn British weapons walked out from the thick brush and onto the path. They eyed the two Dalits with strained expressions. Angry, tired, by determined enough to ignore it. "Who are these two?" one waved, pointing to the Dalits.
"A pair I found walking about as the Resevoir." the gunner said, "They say they're from up north. I hardly believe them. I think their spies."
"Ravi, you have more twitch than an elephant around a mouse." commented one of the patrolmen, "But at least you didn't kill them."
The group chuckled low. As the laughter died down one of the larger men waved to the two and the one who had called on Ravi and a third strolled towards the two. With their hands they patted the two down, intent on covering every inch. Even the uncomfortable places. "Did they come with anything?" the larger one asked.
"No." Ravi said, "At least they didn't claim they came with any identification, and I didn't see weapons."
The larger soldier nodded, "Well they can't be alive if they didn't pack anything. Head back and search for a campsite and get their gear. They probably had their arms there."
Grumbling, Ravi turned on his heels and went back. Leaving the two in to the custody of the guards.
"So, tell me while you're here..." the large one said, motioning for the men to get them moving.
As the hiked Rettemalai and Subramanya took turns to explain their story. Exempting their dealings with the Chinese IB and other compromising information. This making their story one born more out of selfless faith to the movement.
"I don't exactly believe your words." the large soldier said, leading the group out of the forest and into a over-grown clearing. A collection of shacks were becoming visible. Obviously they had been well abandoned and likely five-years of abandonment from economic ruin wasn't wearing well. The windows had been broken out and signs of birds having some to force habitation on them were clearly visible. Continuing as they walked the patrolman added: "But we'll see what the captain says."
Passing by the shacks the shadows of men could be seen peering out from within those broken shacks and shed. The passing glimpse of tattered clothing. The glint of the end of a gun barrel from the door or window. The mining company may have moved out, but new occupants had moved in. As they made their way through silence between them prevailed and the weighty feeling of being watched bore down on them harder.
Rounding a bend and passing under trees where forgotten mining equipment has been left to the elements much larger buildings became clearer. Here, a much more visible concentration of men stood. Crouching on the ground or leaning up against large trees with assault rifles and machine-guns in their arms. Tattered red arm-bands were wrapped around their arms.
The soldiers lead them into the largest of the buildings. The door creaking on their hinges as they were opened. The interior smelled musty. The furniture left behind were tore and abused by years of misuse.
A man strolled in from the back of the room, a cigarette burning in his mouth and a tattered red beret on his head. "So are these the men I was told about walking through our territory?" he asked with a loud voice. His skin was much larger, much his features still resoundingly Indian.
"I assume." the larger said, "Ravi was marching him in from his scouting."
The man nodded. "Up to the north?"
The large man nodded again.
"Then these are the men we were looking for. Good work brothers, you're excused. I'd like a moment with these two."
The three guards nodded and left the room. As the door clattered shut behind him the bereted officer strolled forwards to the two. "Names?" he asked.
"Rettemalai Bhopor"
"Subramanya Diat."
The officer nodded. "From where are you two from?"
"We were both born down here in the general area." Subramanya said, "But I imagine my friend here was born somewhere further west."
Rettemali nodded in confirmation.
"But we fled north." Subramanya said, "To be a part of better things. But we're back to try and bring it here."
The captain cocked his head. He was dangerously silent for a period. The silence was broken with a low growl, "Two men try to come to the Tiger's Den hoping to stop the Tigers from killing their village by providing an offering of meat. They are confident this tithe will settle the great Bengal terrorizing their home. The first offering goes well. The Tiger takes it well.
"Second time though, they are unlucky. When they enter the den the Tiger, wishing for more attacks one of the men. Kill him and fills himself on his body and the meat.
"Seeking revenge, the third man comes with a gun to try and kill the tiger. I wonder how this will end..."
"The third man dies?" Subramanya suggested. The captain shrugged.
"I wonder though, are you here to feed the tiger, or actually kill it?"
"We'd like to kill it." Subramanya said, tilting his head to show the scar. "Karma needs to cut someone."
The captain laughed. It was a deep rapturous laugh. The entire building seemed to be filled with it. "We'll see." he said. "So if you're telling the truth, then Mahatma is trying to get to us?"
"You could say that."
The captain nodded. "We Lost Hyperbad, or at least a portion of their commune. Enough to silence it for a bit. But I imagine they'll be back to seek vengeance somehow. But what can the main block do for us?"
"Turn the tiger on them?" Subramanya suggested.
The officer craned his head up, thinking. "Two men go to the Tiger's Den. They do not bear meat. Instead they tell them the rival village is much richer. This should play interesting. Do I have it right?"
"Maybe."
"Mmm." the captain said, "Let me put you to the test." he said, "There's a dam - Subramanya, if you're from here you'd know it - but we plan to hit it."
"The Hadagarh and Salandi dams?"
The captain waved his finger at him and chuckled approval. "Yes." he said, "We're going to look into turning this valley here into a lake and there's enough water behind that to do just that. Now, our scouting suggests that it's poorly manned and under-guarded as of late. But with recent events it could have changed. But in any event we're going to collapse it. Give the valley a torrent.
"Then we'll see if the kitty can swim.
"If you don't defect us there, and stick around then I won't kill you too hard. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
"I see good things in you too. I can see it in your aura. But you're my prisoner here, in this building until that time."
My DeviantArt, so sexy
"I am authorized to organize cooperative intelligence" Fulumirani assured, taking a sip from his glass. "The threat of such a weapon being produced by the neighbor of my country... well... we are absolutely concerned."
Putting his glass back down, Fulumirani's face furrowed as a concern popped into his head. "I am no intelligence man myself, but how would it be possible to find live samples? To the furthest of my knowledge, no VX has been used since that ugly affair in Seattle. Unless we found a testing site, or storage... i'm not sure if we have any workable access."
Fulumirani's eyes briefly widened as he thought of an addtion to his prior statement. "We would be absolutely willing to host any Chinese agents, should they try an infiltration of the Spanish Republic itself. And of course, we will do what we are able to do."
Likasi, Katanga
The rebellion that had started in Lubumbashi had very quickly spread across the region, igniting old tribal quarrels and bathing the area in violence. The scars of the civil war which had just ended three months before were still visible. The buildings of brick and stone in the center of the town had yet to be repaired, with many buildings bearing broken windows and crumbled walls, while others were in complete ruin. Though some of the wooden houses and businesses that made up the majority of the town were still in ruin, most of them had been rebuilt. Now, with war rearing it's head again, some of the rebuilt structures were burning again.
The majority of the violence was being fought between the loyalist Lunda people and the rebellious Garanganze. Though the fight was officially one of government versus rebel, the people who were fighting in this particular battle had different motivations. In the previous century, the Garanganze people had ruled over the region and it's trade routes with an iron fist, disenfranchising other peoples including the Lunda. Though very few men remembered these slights from seventy years ago, the Lunda carried with them the honor of their ancestors. Now they took that honor to the streets of Likasi.
Men darted back and forth between whatever cover they could find, taking position behind cars and in the tattered shops that littered the main street. The rattle of generation old assault rifles played through the town in a fatal rhythm which became a symphony when joined with the explosions of grenades and home-made explosives. Screams of pain added to the chaotic cacophony, rising from the lungs of boys young enough to have never experienced the lust of adolescence, and also from men old enough to remember similar screams from the Great War. The few women who hadn't fled howled in unthinkable grief as they watched their sons, husbands, brothers, and fathers fall before them all over again.
Through the carnage, a veteran of it's horror confidently walked through the street, barking orders at his men while firing his side arm wildly into the enemy rabble. Draped it tattered fatigues with ripped off sleeves, he looked the part of the warlord that he was. As the leader of the Garanganze people, he was one of the most important leaders in the Katanga rebellion, and he was certainly comfortable with the part.
As he moved in the direction of a bombed out drug store, a bullet whizzed by his head. Ignoring the sudden ringing in his ear, the leader whipped around and took another shot toward the other side of the battle. His bullet found a mark, striking a man in the neck and causing him to keel over as his blood flowed out of his body and mingled with the blood of his comrades in the street. Proud of himself, the rebel leader took to loading his gun and strode into the half-destroyed drug store.
Inside, several men were loading their guns and firing through holes in the walls. At the very end of the building, a very different man stood out from the rest.
Armed with no more then a bible, the man at the end of the building looked out of place. Unlike his African comrades in this battle, the man with the bible was blonded haired and white. On top of this, he was dressed in a raged white dress shirt and black pants, both stained with dirt and blood. Though his face was unshaven and scared, like a man who had lived in the wilderness for too long, his hair was cut and slicked back.
Though the rebel leader stood over the bibled man grinning, the bibled man did not look up from his reading. Chuckling at the scene, the rebel leader spoke.
"Do you not want to fight?" he said, shaking his head. "There is blood to be spilled for righteous men like us."
Looking up from his reading, the man of with the bible replied in monotone, his face remaining consistently serious. "It is not my calling to fight. I am a teacher. It is you, Mwenda, who is called to that work."
"That sounds like an excuse, Caleb." the Mwenda exclaimed, laughing as he looked up and shook his head. "You have spoke of fighting for god, but when the time comes, you will not fight."
"I will fight" Caleb expressionlessly retorted, "When I have been called to fight. To everything there is a season. I have taught you about patience."
"You have taught me" the Mwenda smiled. "And there is a time of war. There is a time to kill. I think if you look outside, you will find that this is that season. Is that not calling enough?"
"It is that time for you." Caleb coldly responded, "It is not that time for me. I assure you, the time will come when I am called to duty, and you will see then that the sun does not go down on my wrath."
"I have yet to see you kill." the Mwenda responded. "I have known no Mormon to kill. As far as I know, you don't."
"You will see." Caleb retorted, looking back down on his book. "And when you see, you will know. Those who live outside of God's light will know. Life outside of God is dark and full of terrors, and I will be his terror."
Lusaka, Zambia
Overlooking the city of Lusaka from a hotel balcony, General Kwanza watched as the brunt of his men packed up in order to move north toward the embattled Katanga. Reading his orders, Kwanza turned around to a his staff, who had gathered to receive their orders in turn.
"Biniam" Kwanza started, pocketing the letter containing the orders. "You will stay in Lusaka with the 5th. The rest of the divisions are going north."
"Yes sir" Biniam called out, saluting General Kwanza.
"At ease" Kwanza replied. "The city has been no trouble. My primary concern is that you keep supply routes open, both to us and to the Zambians. The locals should not cause problems so long as they are kept in supplies."
"Shouldn't we be concerned about incursions?" Biniam noted with some concern. "The Bemba are aiding the rebellion, and most of their numbers are in the North of this country."
"I will handle them" Kwanza responded, "The Bemba in Katanga are the only ones I have heard any activity from. I presume the locals are not part of this unpleasantness."
"Perhaps not." Biniam agreed, "But how much do we really know? If we did not expect the rebellion, can we expect it's spread?"
"I have assurances." Kwanza responded, dismissing Biniam's advice and moving the conversation to it's next point. "We will be moving tomorrow. I am told that the airforca are going to give us aerial support with any luck, we will have this ugliness supressed by the end of the week."
"We ourselves aren't exactly aware of VX being used since Seattle either." Hou said, "And from what I've read it tends to dissipate, decay, or wash-away within a week or two of its initial use. Making it more illusive. However if we can get both of us to be aware perhaps we may utilize our resources to find a site where it may have been used recently, where they're storing or producing it, or testing it."
Hou went to take a sip from his glass but frowned when he found it empty. Shrugging he placed the glass on the desk alongside him.
"And it's good to see we'll be capable of housing a few agents that way." Hou said, "After this is done I can see to it that the orders are passed on to Yan Sing to dispatch a couple men there. When the moment's right of course."
My DeviantArt, so sexy
Reichstagsgebäude, Berlin, Prussia
" Gentlemen.. " began a Prussian Oberleutnant who greeted the British and Austrian officials near the entrance to the impressively built and secured Reichstagsgebäude, the home of the Prussian parliament, and a site rich with Prussian history. " Your guards must remain outside. " the Prussian officer at the door said, " I can assure you will be safe within these walls, for the Bundespolizei has been tasked with your protection -- you are in good hands. " he added, shutting the doors behind the guests. " Please follow me. "
The Prussian officer, dressed in a dark grey, almost black uniform adorned with numerous military decorations and Prussian symbols such as the Iron Cross, lead the British and Austrians through the Reichstagsgebäude interior, pridefully pointing out things of interest and history. He acted as an unofficial tour man, showing the guests some of the more impressive qualities of the Reichstagsgebäude and offering snippets of its history on the way to the meeting room.
Finally arriving at the doors to the meeting room, the Prussia Oberleutnant stopped before two grandiose-looking wooden doors and faced the foreign officials.
" Gentlemen, before you is the Konferenzraum. " he announced, " I will open the doors for you. Once you are in please take your seats immediately. " the Prussian kindly asked. After receiving affirmative nods from the various foreign officials, the Prussian stepped aside and held one of the large wooden doors open, revealing an impressive spacious room adorned with enormous Prussian flags hanging proudly on the walls, with Black Eagles and Iron Crosses displayed prominently throughout the room. In the center were long tables set up in a circle-like order that nearly enclosed a round space in the middle, where an Iron Cross was displayed in the exact center of the room's white floor.
At one end of the circle were five Prussians, all dressed formally. In between them was Prime Minister Heinrich Eisenberg, wearing a black formal suit. To his left was President Falk Reinhardt, wearing a similar suit. To his right was Generalfeldmarschall Eichmann, easily the most prominent figure, wearing an admirable dark grey, almost black military uniform with golden trims and decorations. Among those were Iron Crosses and a Pour le Mérite medal. His hat was similarly dark grey with a golden trim and golden eagle at its front. The remaining two figures were lower ranking generals wearing uniforms that although were less badass-looking, still gave out a sense of authority, as any general would have.
Once the foreign officials were seated, Prime Minister Heinrich Eisenberg began.
" Greetings, and welcome to Prussia. We are gathered here today with regards to Switzerland and the criminal who leads it. President Breneman of Switzerland is responsible for the deaths of numerous United Kingdom officials. Futhermore, Breneman is responsible for the conspiracy that placed Mr. Faber - our former "Prime Minister" - in power over Prussia. Britain has presented evidence of his desire to place more puppets in power throughout Europe, and.. for these crimes, Breneman must pay, and Prussia is determined to see that through. As a starting point, I would like to know more about Britain's role in the conflict. Will Britain be able to assist Prussia? "
((Had no idea how to start the meeting, so there's that.))
Standing up, Howland nodded, and began to speak. "Assistance is, inf act, all we really are here for. I believe it was previously decided you would be the main force in Switzerland, and because of that, General Blackburn has sent us here to simply be a support team. We'll carry the spare ammo, be the main field medic team... All that good stuff. If you need us to help you shoot, just say so, and we will help in whatever way we can. The generals exact words were, I believe... 'Prussia is surely capable of killing the Swiss on their own, but the landscape is where the problem lies. We want as many Prussians able to fight as possible, so you and your team are being sent to Prussia as support. Just stick close to them, carry supplies, fix up both them and any vehicles that need it, and, most importantly, make sure as many Prussians as possible make it back out of Switzerland alive.'"
Sitting back down, Howland put a folder on the table before speaking again. "All of the men I have with me are mainly trained to be support. At least a quarter of them are capable when it comes to first aid, another quarter in mechanics, and the rest are just there to carry supplies and shoot when needed. This folder has papers detailing each soldier and their qualifications. You don't need to take it, but... It might give you a good idea of who to go to if you get shot, or need a quick fix. Like I said. We're here to be the support team, so you can devote as many men as you need to actual fighting. We can always call in reinforcements, too, should it be needed. It wouldn't take long for them to catch up. Keep in mind if our boys in Greece finish up before we finish in Switzerland, we can always call them in for help, as well."
After saying his piece, Howland remained quiet, so he could be asked questions, or so the Austrians could have their turn to speak.
[12:34PM. Told ya. I'll get a Greece post in a little later.]
~DED
" Very well. " said Prime Minister Heinrich Eisenberg, giving the British officials a dismissive nod before turning to the Austrians beside them. " .. And what are Austria's intentions? " he asked calmly, " What kind of support can your nation provide? ".
((Super short post oh my god.))
The two Austrian representatives looked at each other, Oberst Schopp nodding at General Lueger for him to speak first. The General stood "As (Insert title here) Howland, has stated Prussia is capable of taking on Switzerland itself. We will serve as backup, if it is needed. I feel sending some of our mountain trained soldiers would help Prussia deeply. We understand that President Breneman is predicted to try and escape the countries borders, in that case we will tighten our security in the Switzerland/Liechtenstein borders. So in short, our Land Forces Command will be on the defensive, and if needed we will offer our Air Forces Command, i believe Oberst Schopp may have more detail on this factor." said General Lueger and then sitting. Schopp stood "Hello, i am Oberst Schopp, we have recently acquired a PC-6 from our Pilatus station in Innsbruck, i am not sure how you would feel using a Swiss transport in a Swiss War. We have received a shipment of 8 Saab 35 Draken fighter aircrafts, i feel that launching a few would be a good experimentation for this model to be officially added." said Schopp, he then took out a picture of a red and white Saac 35 Draken and handed it to Prime Minister Eisenberg, then sat down.
Walking down the street, a mob of people yelled and scream. Some had signs saying things like Dictator Cody and New Africa, How About OUR Africa. Soon a man came to them, wearing a suit with a few soldiers behind him. He was calm, wearing a mask of ease. Inside though, he knew his four body guards would not make a difference if the mob attacked.
"We hear you! You want independence, we understand. You want to rule yourself, I mean who wants to see soldiers wandering around in town? Just wait though, as soon as Angola is calmed down, we will make sure it has so much representation that it will feel like you are your own country. Africa today falling, disease and poverty are more dangerous to us then communists and Europeans. We want for you, the people, to be better off, to not be poor and diseased."
After this, the area was silent. The mob thinking. Then, suddenly a car careened though the street, speeding towards the crowd as a man leaned out the window and shot at the man in the business suit. The man in the business suit pulled out a M1911, and shot at the man with a STG-44, hitting him in the soldier. I stopped the man from shooting, but he had already killed two of the bodyguards. The uninjured bodyguards grabbed the other two, as the man in the business suit, President Cody, took a STG-44 off of the ground that a bodyguard dropped.
The mob was screaming as a dozen of them got it by the beige jeep that shot at the President. The driver of it jumped out, along with two other men in passenger sits, all of them with STG-44's. As they searched for President Cody, they couldn't see him, he and the body guards had ran through the crowd. They knew this, so they opened fire at the crowd. Bodies fell, and screams turned into gurgling blood. After about 3 minutes, with all their ammo fired, the men went into the Jeep and left.
Prime Minister Heinrich Eisenberg nodded approvingly, taking the pictures the Austrians handed him. While Eisenberg viewed the pictures depicting some sort of fighter jet, presumably of Swiss origin, Generalfeldmarschall Eichmann spoke up on the matter.
" Britain's support, although little, will be appreciated. It'll allow us to direct more men toward the frontlines, effectively keeping the pressure on the Swiss defenses. " he explained gratefully, turning to the Austrians. " Austria's defensive role is of great importance to our campaign, and I for one am glad to hear of your decision. However, we may ask more of Austria.. As it has been discussed, the terrain in Switzerland is very mountainous, it alone can halt our advance, the last thing we want is mountains riddled with Swiss defenses. " Eichmann explained. " We.. " he said, gesturing at the generals that sat around him, " .. have discussed the possibility of using Austrian support to draw Swiss forces away from the Prussian front in order to hasten the advance to the capital. If possible, we would appreciate Austria's role in an offensive campaign against Switzerland. We do not ask that you put your full military effort toward this campaign. All we ask is that you put the pressure on the Swiss on a second front. Perhaps those fighters of yours could be put to good use. " Eichmann finished, and patiently waited for a response.
General Lueger took in what the Field Marshall had said. <This is not what the Archduke wanted, i will talk about reward for a victory and see>. Still seated the General rubbed his chin, and a stern and very serious and focused look appeared on his face, finally after a minute or two of silence "I do not know how the people will take this, if we do agree and go on an offensive side and victory happens, what will be the reward? Us Austrians are militarily prepared for the Alps, and Switzerland's mountainous terrain, but our people will still see death to those mountains. Will we be taking Switzerland under Prussian-Austrian rule or are we leaving them independent with the capture of Breneman." said the General breaking the silence, and now waiting for Prussian response.