Mahatma smiled.
"That would be Mr. Sarvodaya, seeing as Mahatma is my first name. Sorry if it's hard to pronounce, many people just call me 'Mahatma'. They like to think their great leader has risen from the grave to lead them to salvation again. Feel free to call me either. I'm sure I can make it to Beijing once Bangladesh has fallen. Unfortunately, my portrait is too popular to drive across the nation like you did. Too many people would recognize me and my assistants, and I have no wish to die before my work is completed. Give us a few months, we will come through." He stood up, and extended a hand. "It's been a pleasure, but I have a project coming up in an hour that I need to prepare for. I'll get back to your government when I have the chance. I send my warmest regards to your Chairman."
Mahatma smiled as he showed the man out the door. Comrade. Everyone in India would be calling each other that in a year or two's time. If all went well, of course. He got ready for his presentation, which was going to be about why a socialist government was better than georgist. Why anyone wanted a government like that, he couldn't imagine.
The battle for western Bangladesh was going slowly. The troops were raiding and pillaging the town of Rajshahi. The town had many troops, with almost all the men of the city trying to fight of the UFI invaders. Nonetheless, the fight continued steadily. The city should be seized in a day or two, the word was. If so, it would be the first major capture of the country.
(Let's assume that Bao's on his way back to Tibet. I don't feel like posting about that.)
Road to Severodvinsk
Imperfections of the snowy rise. That's all the soldiers were as they sat crouched on the hill over looking Arkhangelsk. The river-side city would need to go before they moved onto Severodvinsk. And considering recent events, it was easy so far.
They had followed the high-way from the south. They met minimal resistance, military or civilian. The cold had kept many of the non-combat personnel tucked far away in their homes and recent events on the border had crippled the military's ability to respond. If anything, they had been holed up in Novodvinsk the night before when I late-season blizzard rolled in from the north. To Captain Alik, this moment was too good to be true.
"Hail!" Alik called in his deep rolling voice, "What do you bare from the city?"
He was calling out to a scout and his partner just climbing up the snowy bank to him. Their snow-shoes forcing them into a duck-like waddle. Without those the snow would no doubt be chest-deep here.
"The two bridges into town are guarded." the scout said, "We counted maybe twenty men each. Couple machine-gun nests."
"Anything else?"
"Not from what we could see." the scout continued, catching his breath as he came up to the captain's side, "But there are patrols along a four to five-kilometer stretch of the high-way. We peeked down the road, looks to be clear."
Alik nodded. "Sergeatn Dima!" Alik called after a brief pause, "I want you to take a couple men and trap that road! No one's going to drive or ride up here while I wait."
"Yes sir." a heavily dressed man said, his face obscured by a wool scarf and tinted goggles. He stood up and was accompanied by several others.
"Sir," a new figure said, crawling over alongside his superior officer, "word from Saint Petersburg. Radek commends our actions, but also scolds us. He's sent the Saint Petersburg cavalry to our position to support us. He wants a victory here or there's Hell and brimstone waiting for us at home."
"Good, good" Akiv said, then thinking about the trapped road, "Radio back and tell them to take the scenic route. They can wander this way with their maps."
Admiral Santiago Santin watched from his looking glass as the American fleet steamed in from the south.
"Admiral, the incoming American formation contains at least ninety ships. We are substantially outnumbered." An ensign reported, with audible panic in his voice.
"Calm down." The admiral ordered calmly before stowing his telescope back in his shirt pocket. "Seems that nobody ever bothered to translate the old saying that quality is preferable to quantity into English. He turned back over the map of the Atlantic behind him, studying the New England area for a moment, scratching his chin. The sound of six or so explosions from the American fleet elicited startled responses from the crew on the bridge of the Andalucia, but the Admiral didn't do so much as flinch and never bothered to turn from his study of the map. The crew was relieved when they saw that the shots fired were simply warning shots that billowed up from the ocean half a kilometer off the stern of the cruiser Medusa.
"Warning shots, hmm?" The admiral finally turned from the map and took his position at the helm of the bridge. "Seems they brought every American ship in the Atlantic to battle, and even then they're hesitant to fire on us. That says a lot about the confidence the Americans have in their naval forces." Admiral Santin mused. He took the microphone from its resting position and hailed the West Canadian flagship. (that sounds a little more realistic than constantly using the acronym NWC over and over)
"This is Admiral Santiago Santin. I need your fleet to follow my vessels to the northeast at full speed." He then hailed the rest of the Spanish Fleet. "All vessels are to follow the Andalucia to the northeast in double staggered line formation."
With that, the Spanish navy began to steam away from the harbor at Boston.
The captain of the revolution heard this, he hesitated for a second, he decided to contact the Carriers and tell them to back off further, the planes would find their way back, that was easy but the carriers were not to be messed with, they most billions together, not something any leader would forfeit. The captain responded to Spanish simply.
"Understood, we will follow your lead."
With that the North Western fleet followed the Spanish ships in a mimic formation, attempting to bled in as well as possible. A great many NWC helicopters stayed their course be hi behind the ships while jets continued flying around the battlefield, never going too far but staying in the air, always within striking distance of the US fleet, but not within the range of the American guns.
Summit
Tom looked around, quite a few people were assembled.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
It has been since time immemorial that man has looked to the stars in wonder, so I ask you, how can going to them be anything but an extension of a will older than any of us? It is our very nature to discover, and to lust for knowledge, you accept this but doubt the nobility of working to the stars?
By now many forces were here watching each other. Reminiscent of a cowboy stand-off, who was going to make the first move? Spanish ships were nearby Canada's near neighbors, the NWC. The fleet has moved closer and closer, fitting snugly between the two confrontational groups. The ships had faced both sides, it was important to know if somebody had indeed fired.
At this time the USSA started warning spain and the NWC.
"Did you hear any mention of Canada in their warning?"
"Nope."
"It is time gentlemen for your orders, I want our new ship design to head way. Although their blockade is thick, we can push through. If they warn an attack, you are ordered to stop in your tracks, but do not return to our forces."
"Sir, you know this could cause a war..."
"Just listen to my orders and we should be fine."
The new ship started moving at a medium-pace, although speeds could easily be increased. There had been an open path between two american ships. As quickly as the ship could, it went in between the two, then anchored. The radio chimed in.
"Your orders sir?"
"Wait."
((Although I suppose this could be godmoddy -- the bit about an open path, I don't feel that it was that far-fetched, however, I will gladly take this post back.))
Montreal
"Sir, we have news that tells of a stand off between USSA and Spain, if it escalates, we are going to be in the middle."
"Well, okay...
Send in a somebody to monitor things. If it does indeed escalate, we must know at the exact time it does."
"The plane will be there momentarily, sir.
Further orders?"
"None."
The plane soon left, it was not there to deal with any forces, but there to warn of the attack if it does indeed happen.
The night air was a cold blanket smothering the men on the hill. The lights of the city of Arkhangelsk flickered on in the chill black. The city there stood as a spot of white and warm yellow in a sea of snow glowing blue in the snow. A crystalline landscape. Cold. Heartless. Soon to be filled with blood.
The silence of the scene was soon disturbed. In the distance behind the waiting troops the impatient nickering of horses floated on the air, unhindered by the still of the air. Alik stood up, his knees groaning with the sudden adjustment in position. He turned to meet the noise, and saw a column of horse-mounted combatants waiting for orders. "I see you tried your horses off the road." he called out, startling many of his own men awake. Many of which started for their guns as the sudden raising of voices.
"And it was none to pleasant." a figure said, unidentifiable from the mass of silhouettes down below, "Would you care to explain?"
"I ordered the roads south to be mined." Alik noted, beneath the dim professionalism there was a certain pride in his voice, "I didn't want my own brothers to be blown up. That wouldn't be good at all. Not at all."
"Very well." the voice said, he ushered his horse to move forward, but the proud beast quickly withdrew as its legs fell into snow it found too deep.
"I advise you go around the side!" Alik commented with a bright grin, "The wind piles the snow up deep around this hill. The south-east side has a far better climb."
The unidentified man grumbled as he turned his horse about. Guiding it around the side with his men in tow. Alik followed from atop the ridge.
"So what's the situation?" the cavalry commander asked, "Don't tell me you were already planning on assaulting the city."
"As a fact I was." Alik added, "But I got word you were coming. Radek wants this place his I take it."
"If not you'll hang." the lancer responded, "So we're here to ensure this operation doesn't end with a rope."
Alik laughed, "This was just too good to take! How could I resist the chance as their outposts burned. I don't know who's idea it was, but it ****ing helps me!"
"Yes, well now command is tied up with figuring it out and trying to stop it from happening again. You're just stretching this."
"Well Radek I guess approves, if he's not sending you to kill me already."
The lancer grumbled. "So what's the plan?" he asked bringing his mount to a stop next to him. They stood toe-to-nose now, literally. Alik looked into his moon-illuminated face, the mountains and valleys of his protruding cheek-bones exaggerated in the low light.
"Well from here the two bridges into town are guarded. My men have counted many twenty or so men on each with machine-gun protection.
"When the sun begins to rise I'll lead my men down to the road and see about picking them off from afar before they can see us. I've got some good-shots. Their instructions are to remove any machine-gunners and sharp-shooters on or on the other-side of the bridge.
"We'll take the north-east bridge. With you here this changes the game. I'm hoping that with that one under threat any remaining on the second will be too distracted to notice you. I'll want you to ride along that span and take them by surprise."
"Our signal?"
"My whistle of course."
"Should have though." the horse-man sighed, "We'll see how this looks in the morning."
As the sun set on the small city nestled in the Canadian forests near where Quebec met Vermont, Mudada stood in a line of people seeking passage to New England. A sense of urgency could be felt in the air, and though Mudada didn't share in this urgency himself, he could sense the tensity it caused in those around him. It was only five years earlier that the continent had erupted in total war, and though the war had not touched Canada in a physical capacity, people could still remember the suffering it caused; the death that their careless leaders had brought upon them.
Those surrounding him were looking to relieve some of this tension by visiting their family and friends in New England. Mudada choose to simply block the surrounding tension out with a smoke.
As he lit a match to put fire to his cigarette, one of the men heading the caravan walked to where he was parallel with the center of the line so that everyone could see him. He looked to be a lower ranking officer; lieutenant most likely. Despite the rank, he was visibly quite green; 19, maybe 20... he could have been older, but he didn't look it. Perhaps this was due to his small frame... his helmet and uniform fit loosely.
The Canadian officer spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, we need you to proceed into the trucks in an orderly fashion. We will not tolerate pushing or disorderly conduct. If you choose to misbehave, you'll be required to wait for the next transport. Now, at the sound of this whistle, you will began to load. First, however, we should go over some basics of..."
The officers attention was distracted by the motions of one of his men, who was holding a radio. The officer quickly walked over to pick up the radio, listening for a few moments. His face turned an almost ghastly white and he started to whisper among his soldiers. Something had happened...
After a few minutes of suspicious whispers, he blew the whistle without warning. The small crowd was gathered onto the trucks; military transports with inward facing benches under a canvas cover. Everything went completely silent as the trucks crept forward. The quite hum of the motors complimented the clear starry sky in an almost calming way; it was a very peaceful moment...
...perhaps the calm before the storm.
Hunan Province, China
Akanni crept into the mansion's theater, as not to disturb either the movie or what looked like a sleeping Yaqob. The movie playing on the screen, a black and white film set somewhere in the snow, lit up the otherwise dark room quite a bit. As Akanni approached Yaqob, he noticed that he wasn't sleeping at all; he was writing.
"This isn't the pornography I asked for!" quipped Akanni, elbowing Yaqob in the side.
"Ah, not today. This one is, er..." Yaqob grabbed a cylindrical film container.
"Looks like it is called... 'Shades of Winter'. Some dramatization of the lives of Viktor Laine and Juhani Mikhael coming out of Finland." answered Yaqob, putting the cylinder down to complete his work.
"Mmm... Any good?" continued Akanni.
"Eh... It's similar in style to Chinese films about the revolution... full of corny lines and preaching... except this one has been made quite cheaply." replied Yaqob, not caring to look up from his writing.
"That good I see. Doing more homework?" Akanni quipped.
"Mmm... movie review." answered Yaqob, his pen not pausing for a moment. "I find I get more out of things like this if I write about them. Forces me to think about it."
"Well, that sounds like you... what do you have so far?" asked Akanni, who by now was paying no attention to the film either.
"I've been trying to connect things being said in the movie to Svenist principles, though it has been insanely easy... seems like half their lines have been ripped from Sven's writing." answered Yaqob.
"Mmm... Any good violence or nudity?" inquired Akanni.
Yaqob smirked. "Plenty of violence... I think the Czar's daughter is supposed to show a tit later."
"Ooooh" exclaimed Akanni, "I'll have to see that."
((Goddamnit, two times a row was discouraged to post because of a goddamn bug.))
RUB's Lab Administrator's room. The nice looking room, with lots of expensive furniture, was belonging to the administrator. The administrator who was often formally called Semen Borisovich was doing his jobs here. Some may think that this room is overfurnitured. Of course, he is in charge here, he can just buy lots of stuff and put it into his room. He would do nothing and sit up his ass there.
In fact, he was doing lots of different work here. Yes, maybe he got a bit too much things. But he is still faithfull to his job and duties, so he could be overlooked sometimes. He knows when to stop.
Vasily knew that this man is one he could depend on. When the doors opened, Vasily came to Semen and did a little surprise to him. After some time talking about different things, Vasily finally decided to ask about the things he came for.
"' class='bbc'>Ладно, Семен, надо переходить к делу. Коньяк отменный, соглашусь, но все таки завязывай с дорогими напитками. Бюджет не резиновый, я и так закрываю глаза по поводу твоей комнаты." Vasily said with his voice becoming more serious in seconds. "Ладно..." Semen replied, knowing that Vasily won't forget this. But lack of Brandy won't interfere his job much. "Как у нас с проектом "Глухарь" и другим, очень секретным проектом?" said Vasily. Semen thought for some time, looked over his papers and then replied with unhappy look "'t do ****. Library has got audio records of scientists, they are less vague.' class='bbc'>Хреново, Вася, хреново. Мы не приступили ни к аккумулятору, ни к генератору, а мотор все еще ничего не может. В библиотеке аудиозаписи ученых, они более подробны." Vasily's face became less happy too. No progress at all. That's... "Но есть хорошая новость." Semen became happier in a second. Vasily leaned forward slightly, curiosity stroke him "Наш Алхимик, Петрович,--" Semen was starting his speech and got interrupted "' class='bbc'>Это наш алкаш что-ли?" Vasily asked and got an answer "Да, именно. Короче, Петровичу прифартило. Знаешь удобрения новые?" Vasily nodded "Короче, удобрили наши колоса крестьяне перед сбором, а потом собрали. Самогона наварили, устроили пьянку и Петрович притащил самогона. Набухался и пришла к нему идея: создать мотор на самогоне. Ну вот, создал." The last words put Vasily into shock "Погоди, его же в обычный можно залить?" Vasily asked. Semen replied fast "' class='bbc'>Да, но мощь не пойдет, мотор потом здохнет скорее. Петрович самогонный мотор сделал, чисто под топливо. Да, да, именно. Теперь он и с танком будет пить."
Vasily was shocked. Alchogolic tanks. Great. His drunk scientists were making a tanks working on freagin moonshine.
"' class='bbc'>Да и самогон от удобрений особенный. Он вкуснющий, а главное моторы на нем работают лучше." Semen continued.
Vasily still couldn't believe that he wasn't dreaming or drunk himself. Brandy couldn't do this to his mind hardened by years of Vodka. So it was true. Alternative fuel: the goddamn moonshine, available in every single village....
(Interjection: I'm pretty sure fertilizer won't do anything for the sugar (later alcohol) content of anything. At best good shine is made from just letting it all sit about.
Unless you've been doing some reading that I failed to read...)
The entire Spanish fleet had its vast array of armaments loaded and ready to fire at Admiral Santin's order. To the surprise of every crewmember on the Spanish ships and completely out of character for Santin, however, the admiral had decided to back down and retreat. It came as an even greater surprise when the admiral later ordered every battleship in the fleet to spin their guns to the southwest - right at the enormous American fleet.
Admiral Santin watched from the bridge of the Andalucia as his fleet pointed her guns at the Americans some twentieish miles to the southwest of them. He gave his fleet all of forty-five seconds to adjust their aim - despite the fact that accuracy at this range was a crapshoot. It was then that he picked up his microphone finally gave the order everyone was anxiously awaiting.
"Open fire."
All along the length of the Spanish fleet, the mighty guns became dragons that belched balls of fire into the south. In the span of five seconds, almost two hundred Spanish guns fired, leaving their vessels rocking slightly. The water off the starboard sides of the ships was now steaming from the sheer heat produced by the guns. Admiral Santin immediately withdrew his looking glass and watched the ordinance fall on the heads of the Americans. Jets of water sprang up around the American ships. A few fireballs blossomed as well amidst the fleet, connoting direct hits. First blood belonged to Spain.
"Reload, and now ripple our fire, starting with the Medusa and Leon. Do not stop - continue our course for the northeast at full speed." The admiral turned his attention to the cruisers leading the Spanish formation, which reloaded after about forty seconds and fired again, prompting the cruisers behind them to fire once they had finished, and so on throughout the formation - creating a continuous rippling fire.
"Radio Madrid," Admiral Santin ordered. "Let them know we have a war on our hands." He requested surprisingly calmly.
Madrid, Spain
Prime Minister Tejero had arrived back in Madrid in the wee hours of the morning. Despite this, the governmental palace was perfectly alive with activity. Something was up - he hoped he hadn't missed anything while he was in Milan.
Miguel Tejero wasn't too surprised to find five or so men already sitting in his office when he got there. Tejero took his seat at his desk and clasped his hands.
"I trust you're here to tell me what's happened while I was away."
"Of course, Mr. Tejero." A man in naval regalia chimed in, calling him by his preferred title of Mr.(Senor) instead of 'excellency', which Tejero saw as needlessly formal. "Admiral Santiago Santin sent Madrid a message about ten minutes ago, informing us that he has opened fire on the American naval forces outside of Boston."
"I suppose that puts us at war with the United Socialist States of America."
So, the battle has begun over the small new nation known as the NER. The standoff between the Red Navy and the Spanish Fleet just turned violent, reminiscent to the standoff five years ago between the old USA and the old RNF.
Of course, a majority of the shots missed. Majority never means all. A couple glancing shots, and a few direct hits. Damage was gone, and about sixteen people lay dead.
"All ships, get into position, open up a full broadside on the Spanish fleet. Get all planes into the air, contact the Battle-groups and Washington and tell them that the Spanish have just attacked us and we're at war."
F-15s we're rocketed into the sky, and the heavy guns from the Battleships, Destroyers, Cruisers, and Frigates took aim at the Spanish fleet.
"Open fire, we only have to keep them away until the reinforcements arrive. Just fire, and don't stop firing."
The twelve ships present at the blockade all opened up their main weapons right at the spanish fleet, the water splashes were visible from here. The boats rocked slightly at the sheer recoil of the heave weapons. The Iowa-Classes 16"s were making a tremendous noise and their sheer sight was just saying, "Come at me bro."
USSA Battle group Whiskey
"All carries, launch planes. All carries, launch planes and move to attack the Spanish fleet 32 miles to the north."
The roars and screams of the Jet engines filled the sky as F-15 after F-15 took to the sky from the two carriers, before moving north and joining into the first battle of the USSA-Spanish War.
((Usually, your supposed to let the other person determine the damage you do to them. Like I'm doing now. I didn't say that I hit a thing, or the damage inflicted. That's up to the receiver of the damage.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The world is a cold, unforgiving, maple-syrupy place for a Canadian
And so it began. Once again powerful nations were at war within Boston territory.
Though it had been New England's allies that triggered the war, New England would take no part in it. Not publicly, at least. The president of New England was immediately informed through secured communication methods, and his orders were a surprise to all.
" Mr. President, are you sure? " asked a rebel commander in disbelief.
" Yes. I am sure. Gather your men and stage the highjacking. " the president repeated.
There was a pause, the commander was speechless for a second.
" .. But sir.. this is a big risk. My men will surely die out there. "
" I know, " the president sighed, he knew what he was asking was by no means something a man of peace would ask, but a man of peace must also be capable of making sacrifices, still it weighted in his heart to have to give such orders. " Please understand that the nation of New England is at stake. We MUST end this war here, even if it means sacrificing some of our men. Try your best to get those men back safely, if you can, but please, do as I say. "
The commander took a deep breath, he couldn't believe what the president had asked him to do, " Yes, Mr. President. It will be done. "
Minutes after, the commander gathered several of his men, not many, just enough to man a cargo ship along with several civilian sailors.
" Listen up, gentlemen.
I'm not sure what you all see when you look out into the horizon, but I see a battle that will define the very future of this nation. A battle that will forever live in history, and I'll be damned if we sit here while our freedom slips right out of our grasp. So I ask, are you willing to risk your lives for this nation? "
" Yes, sir! "
" Are you willing to risk your very lives for this nation!? "
" Yes, sir! "
The commander laughed, these young men had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
" I'm not sure you all understand what I'm asking of you. " The commander stopped for a moment, thinking of a way to explain, but ultimately decided to be blunt about it. " Men.. I am asking you all to take part in what could very well be a suicide mission. Now, if any of you want out, you're free to go. You will not be looked down upon. But if you want to fight for your country, then please.. be here when I turn around. "
The commander turned around and began counting to thirty, giving anyone who didn't want to be a part of the mission time to leave.
When he turned around, to his surprise, all men were still there, standing in attention. He smiled, glad he had chosen the right men for the job. " Very well. " again he paused, thinking for a moment. Deciding to keep where the orders came from a secret, he continued, " You are to commandeer this here cargo ship and use it to engage the USSA fleet. "
One of the rebels spoke up, " But sir, the ship's got no armament... "
The commander laughed inwardly, shaking his head, " No son, that she does not, but let me tell you. She's got the mass. "
The men chuckled at the comment, but inside they were all terrified. The commander had just asked them to use a cargoship to ram a USSA battleship...
" Now, your mission is to use the cargoship to ram the biggest goddamn ship you see. I know it's crazy, but we're here to show those bastards exactly who they're ****in' with. I will send two smaller fishing boats to tail the cargoship and get your asses out of there once your mission has been completed, hopefully you all get back with your lives, but I won't lie to you, there is a chance none of you will. "
There was silence for several seconds. This was out of a movie, and never did any of these men ever imagined they'd be doing something so ridiculous.. However, they were more than willing to.
" Here's the catch. We are to stage a highjacking, and we're gonna' make this **** look as real as we can. Upon your departure, shots WILL be fired at the vessel, as if we're trying to stop you. We'll then alert the USSA fleet that a cargship has been highjacked and it's heading right for them.. however, we won't do that until you're right on them. If you're captured, remember, you're not rebels, and these orders were never given. Understood? "
" Yes, sir! "
(( I know this is crazy as all hell, but well, New Englanders are crazy as all hell. ))
(( By the way, yes. Several references to several things. ))
The NWC ships knew they had to help, so they mimicked the spanish and let all their guns go, directly at the Americans. The NWC ships continued the constant fire for a while, then they stopped, the Captain of the Revolution ordered a stop to the firing when he knew that he was wasting ammo.
The NWC aircraft were already in the air, and they had been using their stealth capabilities to stay hidden, but now that was no longer necessary. The NWC jets swooped down and dropped bombs on each carrier from a massive height. These were napalm bombs, not made to destroy the carriers but to disable them, they were dropped in huge quantities and at least 5 or 6 had a good chance to strike each ships deck. This napalm would make taking off suicide, the jet would ignite all its fuel before it reached the end of the runway. The jets suffered losses of course, fortunately these were GH-2's, however many were shot down, pilots ejecting in order to reach the shore of the NER.
It has been since time immemorial that man has looked to the stars in wonder, so I ask you, how can going to them be anything but an extension of a will older than any of us? It is our very nature to discover, and to lust for knowledge, you accept this but doubt the nobility of working to the stars?
((Usually, your supposed to let the other person determine the damage you do to them. Like I'm doing now. I didn't say that I hit a thing, or the damage inflicted. That's up to the receiver of the damage.))
((I mean, it was really up to you as to just what the damage that I inflicted was. I thought that having a few scored hits on your vessels was fair. I didn't want a post from you to the tune of "The Spanish barrage splashed down harmlessly around the American fleet."))
Off the coast of New England
A shot from the American guns obliterated the radar masts of the destroyer Cachalote, directly behind the Andalucia, before embedding itself into the deck Admiral Santin's flagship.
"Status report!" The Admiral demanded.
//Dios mio... Admiral, you wouldn't believe just how close that shell came to hitting the our ordinance stores.// An officer below-decks reported on the bridge's intercom.
//This is Captain Garza of the Valladolid. We've taken moderate damage to our stern. We-// The sound of the Valladolid's guns firing drowned out the captain's voice. //-ouldn't have to turn on the pumps, though.//
"Admiral, we're almost out of effective range from the American fleet. Much further and we'll have to cease fire unless they give chase. Shall we continue to move away from the Americans?" An ensign asked.
"Yes." The admiral replied, staring at the Americans through his telescope. "I'll order Captain Muceno to scramble his fighters, but we shall stay the course."
Madrid, Spain
Prime Minister Miguel Tejero's desk was surrounded by journalists bearing news cameras on their shoulders and microphones on booms. Flashes from photographers from El Pais and other newpapers bathed Tejero in pulses of white light before he began his address.
"Esteemed citizens of the Spanish Republic, it is with solemness and gravity that I report to you this morning that our nation is currently in a state of war with the United Socialist States of America. The oppression of the communistic American leadership over the young, hopeful new Republic of New England cannot and will not be tolerated by the Spanish Republic. Even now, our naval forces under the capable Admiral Santiago Santin are fighting alongside the Northwest Coalition to free the port of Boston from American blockades that would deny the people of New England the right to trade or fish. The entire Atlantic fleet is on full alert and much of this fleet has been directed to the Mid-Atlantic.
For too long, Spain has sat idly by as communism stamps out liberty around the planet. Today, however, Spain draws a line in the sand. This shall be the high-water mark of socialism. Henceforth, communism and socialism shall be on the retreat across the planet, and the first defeat of those wishing to enslave humanity begins today at Boston."
(( WOOPS! Bumped Gorger's much more important post. Make sure everyone reads it in the previous page. ))
New England attempts to contact the USSA
The president, although confident the USSA can be defeated at Boston, realizes that regardless of the victor, this conflict would only bring full scale war between the nations, something neither of them could afford, especially not a developing nation like New England. Almost ditching the Canadian meeting, he demands that the officials in Boston attempt to contact the USSA and forward him to their leader through a secure form of communication.
Working under pressure from the president, the Boston officials do their best to contact the USSA, now it all comes down to whether they ( USSA ) are willing to answer.
(( Nova, they are trying to contact you. Pick up ;P ))
The operation was in motion. The air was still frigid and barely awake from the night as the men moved down the hill. The cavalry circled around a distance off. Before they entered range of the bridge they would hold back. The boots of the men clogged heavily against the frozen pavement. Quietly they made their way close.
The men took cover behind a farm-house. Alik moved to the back door and pushed with his hands. It opened without hesitation or resistance. Revealing inside the dusty sepulcher air. "It's abandoned, get in." he barked, motioning for several rifle-men to get inside, "Get upstairs, attach your scopes and wait for my orders."
At a close distance, the bridges looked a lot more distant than they did. Perhaps instead of drawing the fire, they'd force a re-positioning.
The thudding of boots could be heard as the soldiers navigated the second floor. Flecks of plaster and motes of dust drifted down. This home has probably been abandoned for years. Alik strolled about the empty room - the linoleum floors suggesting this was the kitchen - giving the men upstairs time to prepare themselves.
A minute passed. He reached out and grabbed a rifle from the hand of a tense private. Wrenching it from his hands he coolly raised it to the ceiling. Thud, thud, thud.
There was a brief delay as Alik handed the rifle back. Then the above began roaring with thunder as the sharp-shooters let off their shots. Alik rushed to the window, a broad smile on his face. Ripping a pair of binoculars from the satchel at his side he looked down the road at the bridge.
The morning guard had sharply returned to reality as the bullets traced through the air coming to rest near or in them. He gave the scene only a passing glance, not willing to give up any time. But from he saw the machine-gun emplacement had been cleared. "Go now comrades!" he hollered he a whooping voice, "Seize the day and this bridge!"
The room seemed to move as the men who followed him in pushed forward. Driving themselves to the furry of battle they ran through the back-door. "No!" Alik said, turning and catching more making their way through the house, "Your asses go out around the house with me!"
Minutes in and the sounds of gun fire had shattered the morning. The bridge defense had rallied itself, but not after suffering casualties. Bullets tossed by the defenders charged out to the Novgorodians. As the first fell cover was claimed. Diving behind abandoned vehicles and trees the assaulting force staked their claim to return fire.
From behind a tire-less truck (and decorated with bullet-holes) Alik paused and gave the second bridge a glance. He turned the dial on his binoculars. Several kilometers off the faint images of men could be seen. They were mobilizing themselves. But in which direction? He had to act fast.
"MOVE!" he yelled, "Rally on my brothers, we take this bridge now!"
The numbers of the battalion knocking the bridge was beginning to falter the guard. The sharp-shooters had long since stopped firing having cleared their targets. A few shots rang out from the abandoned house as they took pot-shots at anyone who slipped out from behind the supports of the bridge.
Alik spared another glance to the other bridge through his binoculars. This had to be his moment. A detachment was already on the move along the road towards them. He fumbled for the whistle on his neck, clenching it in his adrenline pumped hands he gave a loud blow.
The sound pierced the air and went above the gunshots. A harsh signalling blow. Fire from the enemy seemed to go into a lull for a moment as they discerned the meaning of that blow. A summons to retreat? Or push forward.
But the harsh cry of the silver bird that hung on Alik's nest was responded to be its mate. A faint call was sounded elsewhere. The Novgorod lancers had heard the call and were responding to its summons.
Alike grabbed at the assault rifle on his back. Checking the safety he grinned wide. "Follow me if you want to live!" he shouted and bolted to his feat as he charged out into the road. He unloaded his clip into the bridge, then dived to the side and rolled into a ditch. His men followed suit, either for fear of repercussion or that their CO was stock raving mad.
Looking up, Alik saw his cavalry had just arrived.
Bearing down on the assault from the second bridge came the horses. Their riders locked their weapons, a motley collection of sub-machine guns and assault rifles. Their horses spurred into the frenzy carrying them to Hell's gate and back.
Their captain threw his weapon into the air. Raising it high much as the lancers of the Great War would raise their sabers and spears in a rallying gesture. He gave a gleeful smile as his mind's eye filmed itself in the thick. Living his very own fantasy. To him, he wasn't on a barely plowed road fighting his own brethren. But he was was on the west-front, perhaps outside Krakow charging upon the Germans in a romantic dismissal of sanity.
The column they were advancing on flinched and broke as a thick wall of lead slammed into them. Shouts of pain, panic, and submission to death filled the air. Before they could turn to meet them the horses had already bore onto their position. "H'yea!" the captain cheered, putting his horse into a charge.
There was a meaty thud as a Vologdian was caught under the weight of the beast. Beaten and broken from the hooves he was thrown back in a bloody and beaten pulp.
They had claimed the heart of the column, and the loosely marching soldiers had begun to route. Half continued running into the thick of the first bridge, only to be greeted by the warm welcome of sniper's lead. The rest were pursued to the second.
Letter to the USSA from Beijing
Marcus Fernandez,
As we have learned. It is surprising to note that the news has traveled faster than this letter. No doubt an issue. But, if the nature of bad news it to arrive before the correspondence with a comrade than so is the nature of good news.
In the interests of sanity it has caught the nation's ears that Ukraine has declared a summit. I imagine that we are not welcome. But if you are, I - and my diplomatic affairs officer - advise going. Several of my generals have added their input, and we believe this could only turn to a stalemate not see since the Great War.
As I said to you before. Keep your guns and make sure the shine. But use your words as a weapon too. Utilize it as a sword, go to Kiev and ensure that it can be settled fairly.
"That would be Mr. Sarvodaya, seeing as Mahatma is my first name. Sorry if it's hard to pronounce, many people just call me 'Mahatma'. They like to think their great leader has risen from the grave to lead them to salvation again. Feel free to call me either. I'm sure I can make it to Beijing once Bangladesh has fallen. Unfortunately, my portrait is too popular to drive across the nation like you did. Too many people would recognize me and my assistants, and I have no wish to die before my work is completed. Give us a few months, we will come through." He stood up, and extended a hand. "It's been a pleasure, but I have a project coming up in an hour that I need to prepare for. I'll get back to your government when I have the chance. I send my warmest regards to your Chairman."
"If my travels go as planned, you may see me again in a week or two's time." Bao added before hoisting is bag to his shoulders.
My DeviantArt, so sexy
The battle for western Bangladesh was going slowly. The troops were raiding and pillaging the town of Rajshahi. The town had many troops, with almost all the men of the city trying to fight of the UFI invaders. Nonetheless, the fight continued steadily. The city should be seized in a day or two, the word was. If so, it would be the first major capture of the country.
Road to Severodvinsk
Imperfections of the snowy rise. That's all the soldiers were as they sat crouched on the hill over looking Arkhangelsk. The river-side city would need to go before they moved onto Severodvinsk. And considering recent events, it was easy so far.
They had followed the high-way from the south. They met minimal resistance, military or civilian. The cold had kept many of the non-combat personnel tucked far away in their homes and recent events on the border had crippled the military's ability to respond. If anything, they had been holed up in Novodvinsk the night before when I late-season blizzard rolled in from the north. To Captain Alik, this moment was too good to be true.
"Hail!" Alik called in his deep rolling voice, "What do you bare from the city?"
He was calling out to a scout and his partner just climbing up the snowy bank to him. Their snow-shoes forcing them into a duck-like waddle. Without those the snow would no doubt be chest-deep here.
"The two bridges into town are guarded." the scout said, "We counted maybe twenty men each. Couple machine-gun nests."
"Anything else?"
"Not from what we could see." the scout continued, catching his breath as he came up to the captain's side, "But there are patrols along a four to five-kilometer stretch of the high-way. We peeked down the road, looks to be clear."
Alik nodded. "Sergeatn Dima!" Alik called after a brief pause, "I want you to take a couple men and trap that road! No one's going to drive or ride up here while I wait."
"Yes sir." a heavily dressed man said, his face obscured by a wool scarf and tinted goggles. He stood up and was accompanied by several others.
"Sir," a new figure said, crawling over alongside his superior officer, "word from Saint Petersburg. Radek commends our actions, but also scolds us. He's sent the Saint Petersburg cavalry to our position to support us. He wants a victory here or there's Hell and brimstone waiting for us at home."
"Good, good" Akiv said, then thinking about the trapped road, "Radio back and tell them to take the scenic route. They can wander this way with their maps."
"I'll try sir."
"Don't try, ****ing do."
My DeviantArt, so sexy
Admiral Santiago Santin watched from his looking glass as the American fleet steamed in from the south.
"Admiral, the incoming American formation contains at least ninety ships. We are substantially outnumbered." An ensign reported, with audible panic in his voice.
"Calm down." The admiral ordered calmly before stowing his telescope back in his shirt pocket. "Seems that nobody ever bothered to translate the old saying that quality is preferable to quantity into English. He turned back over the map of the Atlantic behind him, studying the New England area for a moment, scratching his chin. The sound of six or so explosions from the American fleet elicited startled responses from the crew on the bridge of the Andalucia, but the Admiral didn't do so much as flinch and never bothered to turn from his study of the map. The crew was relieved when they saw that the shots fired were simply warning shots that billowed up from the ocean half a kilometer off the stern of the cruiser Medusa.
"Warning shots, hmm?" The admiral finally turned from the map and took his position at the helm of the bridge. "Seems they brought every American ship in the Atlantic to battle, and even then they're hesitant to fire on us. That says a lot about the confidence the Americans have in their naval forces." Admiral Santin mused. He took the microphone from its resting position and hailed the West Canadian flagship. (that sounds a little more realistic than constantly using the acronym NWC over and over)
"This is Admiral Santiago Santin. I need your fleet to follow my vessels to the northeast at full speed." He then hailed the rest of the Spanish Fleet. "All vessels are to follow the Andalucia to the northeast in double staggered line formation."
With that, the Spanish navy began to steam away from the harbor at Boston.
The captain of the revolution heard this, he hesitated for a second, he decided to contact the Carriers and tell them to back off further, the planes would find their way back, that was easy but the carriers were not to be messed with, they most billions together, not something any leader would forfeit. The captain responded to Spanish simply.
"Understood, we will follow your lead."
With that the North Western fleet followed the Spanish ships in a mimic formation, attempting to bled in as well as possible. A great many NWC helicopters stayed their course be hi behind the ships while jets continued flying around the battlefield, never going too far but staying in the air, always within striking distance of the US fleet, but not within the range of the American guns.
Summit
Tom looked around, quite a few people were assembled.
NER Waters
By now many forces were here watching each other. Reminiscent of a cowboy stand-off, who was going to make the first move? Spanish ships were nearby Canada's near neighbors, the NWC. The fleet has moved closer and closer, fitting snugly between the two confrontational groups. The ships had faced both sides, it was important to know if somebody had indeed fired.
At this time the USSA started warning spain and the NWC.
"Did you hear any mention of Canada in their warning?"
"Nope."
"It is time gentlemen for your orders, I want our new ship design to head way. Although their blockade is thick, we can push through. If they warn an attack, you are ordered to stop in your tracks, but do not return to our forces."
"Sir, you know this could cause a war..."
"Just listen to my orders and we should be fine."
The new ship started moving at a medium-pace, although speeds could easily be increased. There had been an open path between two american ships. As quickly as the ship could, it went in between the two, then anchored. The radio chimed in.
"Your orders sir?"
"Wait."
((Although I suppose this could be godmoddy -- the bit about an open path, I don't feel that it was that far-fetched, however, I will gladly take this post back.))
Montreal
"Sir, we have news that tells of a stand off between USSA and Spain, if it escalates, we are going to be in the middle."
"Well, okay...
Send in a somebody to monitor things. If it does indeed escalate, we must know at the exact time it does."
"The plane will be there momentarily, sir.
Further orders?"
"None."
The plane soon left, it was not there to deal with any forces, but there to warn of the attack if it does indeed happen.
The night air was a cold blanket smothering the men on the hill. The lights of the city of Arkhangelsk flickered on in the chill black. The city there stood as a spot of white and warm yellow in a sea of snow glowing blue in the snow. A crystalline landscape. Cold. Heartless. Soon to be filled with blood.
The silence of the scene was soon disturbed. In the distance behind the waiting troops the impatient nickering of horses floated on the air, unhindered by the still of the air. Alik stood up, his knees groaning with the sudden adjustment in position. He turned to meet the noise, and saw a column of horse-mounted combatants waiting for orders. "I see you tried your horses off the road." he called out, startling many of his own men awake. Many of which started for their guns as the sudden raising of voices.
"And it was none to pleasant." a figure said, unidentifiable from the mass of silhouettes down below, "Would you care to explain?"
"I ordered the roads south to be mined." Alik noted, beneath the dim professionalism there was a certain pride in his voice, "I didn't want my own brothers to be blown up. That wouldn't be good at all. Not at all."
"Very well." the voice said, he ushered his horse to move forward, but the proud beast quickly withdrew as its legs fell into snow it found too deep.
"I advise you go around the side!" Alik commented with a bright grin, "The wind piles the snow up deep around this hill. The south-east side has a far better climb."
The unidentified man grumbled as he turned his horse about. Guiding it around the side with his men in tow. Alik followed from atop the ridge.
"So what's the situation?" the cavalry commander asked, "Don't tell me you were already planning on assaulting the city."
"As a fact I was." Alik added, "But I got word you were coming. Radek wants this place his I take it."
"If not you'll hang." the lancer responded, "So we're here to ensure this operation doesn't end with a rope."
Alik laughed, "This was just too good to take! How could I resist the chance as their outposts burned. I don't know who's idea it was, but it ****ing helps me!"
"Yes, well now command is tied up with figuring it out and trying to stop it from happening again. You're just stretching this."
"Well Radek I guess approves, if he's not sending you to kill me already."
The lancer grumbled. "So what's the plan?" he asked bringing his mount to a stop next to him. They stood toe-to-nose now, literally. Alik looked into his moon-illuminated face, the mountains and valleys of his protruding cheek-bones exaggerated in the low light.
"Well from here the two bridges into town are guarded. My men have counted many twenty or so men on each with machine-gun protection.
"When the sun begins to rise I'll lead my men down to the road and see about picking them off from afar before they can see us. I've got some good-shots. Their instructions are to remove any machine-gunners and sharp-shooters on or on the other-side of the bridge.
"We'll take the north-east bridge. With you here this changes the game. I'm hoping that with that one under threat any remaining on the second will be too distracted to notice you. I'll want you to ride along that span and take them by surprise."
"Our signal?"
"My whistle of course."
"Should have though." the horse-man sighed, "We'll see how this looks in the morning."
"Good, good."
My DeviantArt, so sexy
As the sun set on the small city nestled in the Canadian forests near where Quebec met Vermont, Mudada stood in a line of people seeking passage to New England. A sense of urgency could be felt in the air, and though Mudada didn't share in this urgency himself, he could sense the tensity it caused in those around him. It was only five years earlier that the continent had erupted in total war, and though the war had not touched Canada in a physical capacity, people could still remember the suffering it caused; the death that their careless leaders had brought upon them.
Those surrounding him were looking to relieve some of this tension by visiting their family and friends in New England. Mudada choose to simply block the surrounding tension out with a smoke.
As he lit a match to put fire to his cigarette, one of the men heading the caravan walked to where he was parallel with the center of the line so that everyone could see him. He looked to be a lower ranking officer; lieutenant most likely. Despite the rank, he was visibly quite green; 19, maybe 20... he could have been older, but he didn't look it. Perhaps this was due to his small frame... his helmet and uniform fit loosely.
The Canadian officer spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, we need you to proceed into the trucks in an orderly fashion. We will not tolerate pushing or disorderly conduct. If you choose to misbehave, you'll be required to wait for the next transport. Now, at the sound of this whistle, you will began to load. First, however, we should go over some basics of..."
The officers attention was distracted by the motions of one of his men, who was holding a radio. The officer quickly walked over to pick up the radio, listening for a few moments. His face turned an almost ghastly white and he started to whisper among his soldiers. Something had happened...
After a few minutes of suspicious whispers, he blew the whistle without warning. The small crowd was gathered onto the trucks; military transports with inward facing benches under a canvas cover. Everything went completely silent as the trucks crept forward. The quite hum of the motors complimented the clear starry sky in an almost calming way; it was a very peaceful moment...
...perhaps the calm before the storm.
Hunan Province, China
Akanni crept into the mansion's theater, as not to disturb either the movie or what looked like a sleeping Yaqob. The movie playing on the screen, a black and white film set somewhere in the snow, lit up the otherwise dark room quite a bit. As Akanni approached Yaqob, he noticed that he wasn't sleeping at all; he was writing.
"This isn't the pornography I asked for!" quipped Akanni, elbowing Yaqob in the side.
"Ah, not today. This one is, er..." Yaqob grabbed a cylindrical film container.
"Looks like it is called... 'Shades of Winter'. Some dramatization of the lives of Viktor Laine and Juhani Mikhael coming out of Finland." answered Yaqob, putting the cylinder down to complete his work.
"Mmm... Any good?" continued Akanni.
"Eh... It's similar in style to Chinese films about the revolution... full of corny lines and preaching... except this one has been made quite cheaply." replied Yaqob, not caring to look up from his writing.
"That good I see. Doing more homework?" Akanni quipped.
"Mmm... movie review." answered Yaqob, his pen not pausing for a moment. "I find I get more out of things like this if I write about them. Forces me to think about it."
"Well, that sounds like you... what do you have so far?" asked Akanni, who by now was paying no attention to the film either.
"I've been trying to connect things being said in the movie to Svenist principles, though it has been insanely easy... seems like half their lines have been ripped from Sven's writing." answered Yaqob.
"Mmm... Any good violence or nudity?" inquired Akanni.
Yaqob smirked. "Plenty of violence... I think the Czar's daughter is supposed to show a tit later."
"Ooooh" exclaimed Akanni, "I'll have to see that."
RUB's Lab Administrator's room.
The nice looking room, with lots of expensive furniture, was belonging to the administrator. The administrator who was often formally called Semen Borisovich was doing his jobs here. Some may think that this room is overfurnitured. Of course, he is in charge here, he can just buy lots of stuff and put it into his room. He would do nothing and sit up his ass there.
In fact, he was doing lots of different work here. Yes, maybe he got a bit too much things. But he is still faithfull to his job and duties, so he could be overlooked sometimes. He knows when to stop.
Vasily knew that this man is one he could depend on. When the doors opened, Vasily came to Semen and did a little surprise to him. After some time talking about different things, Vasily finally decided to ask about the things he came for.
"' class='bbc'>Ладно, Семен, надо переходить к делу. Коньяк отменный, соглашусь, но все таки завязывай с дорогими напитками. Бюджет не резиновый, я и так закрываю глаза по поводу твоей комнаты." Vasily said with his voice becoming more serious in seconds.
"Ладно..." Semen replied, knowing that Vasily won't forget this. But lack of Brandy won't interfere his job much.
"Как у нас с проектом "Глухарь" и другим, очень секретным проектом?" said Vasily.
Semen thought for some time, looked over his papers and then replied with unhappy look "'t do ****. Library has got audio records of scientists, they are less vague.' class='bbc'>Хреново, Вася, хреново. Мы не приступили ни к аккумулятору, ни к генератору, а мотор все еще ничего не может. В библиотеке аудиозаписи ученых, они более подробны." Vasily's face became less happy too. No progress at all. That's... "Но есть хорошая новость." Semen became happier in a second. Vasily leaned forward slightly, curiosity stroke him "Наш Алхимик, Петрович,--" Semen was starting his speech and got interrupted "' class='bbc'>Это наш алкаш что-ли?" Vasily asked and got an answer "Да, именно. Короче, Петровичу прифартило. Знаешь удобрения новые?" Vasily nodded "Короче, удобрили наши колоса крестьяне перед сбором, а потом собрали. Самогона наварили, устроили пьянку и Петрович притащил самогона. Набухался и пришла к нему идея: создать мотор на самогоне. Ну вот, создал." The last words put Vasily into shock "Погоди, его же в обычный можно залить?" Vasily asked. Semen replied fast "' class='bbc'>Да, но мощь не пойдет, мотор потом здохнет скорее. Петрович самогонный мотор сделал, чисто под топливо. Да, да, именно. Теперь он и с танком будет пить."
Vasily was shocked. Alchogolic tanks. Great. His drunk scientists were making a tanks working on freagin moonshine.
"' class='bbc'>Да и самогон от удобрений особенный. Он вкуснющий, а главное моторы на нем работают лучше." Semen continued.
Vasily still couldn't believe that he wasn't dreaming or drunk himself. Brandy couldn't do this to his mind hardened by years of Vodka. So it was true. Alternative fuel: the goddamn moonshine, available in every single village....
Unless you've been doing some reading that I failed to read...)
My DeviantArt, so sexy
The entire Spanish fleet had its vast array of armaments loaded and ready to fire at Admiral Santin's order. To the surprise of every crewmember on the Spanish ships and completely out of character for Santin, however, the admiral had decided to back down and retreat. It came as an even greater surprise when the admiral later ordered every battleship in the fleet to spin their guns to the southwest - right at the enormous American fleet.
Admiral Santin watched from the bridge of the Andalucia as his fleet pointed her guns at the Americans some twentieish miles to the southwest of them. He gave his fleet all of forty-five seconds to adjust their aim - despite the fact that accuracy at this range was a crapshoot. It was then that he picked up his microphone finally gave the order everyone was anxiously awaiting.
"Open fire."
All along the length of the Spanish fleet, the mighty guns became dragons that belched balls of fire into the south. In the span of five seconds, almost two hundred Spanish guns fired, leaving their vessels rocking slightly. The water off the starboard sides of the ships was now steaming from the sheer heat produced by the guns. Admiral Santin immediately withdrew his looking glass and watched the ordinance fall on the heads of the Americans. Jets of water sprang up around the American ships. A few fireballs blossomed as well amidst the fleet, connoting direct hits. First blood belonged to Spain.
"Reload, and now ripple our fire, starting with the Medusa and Leon. Do not stop - continue our course for the northeast at full speed." The admiral turned his attention to the cruisers leading the Spanish formation, which reloaded after about forty seconds and fired again, prompting the cruisers behind them to fire once they had finished, and so on throughout the formation - creating a continuous rippling fire.
"Radio Madrid," Admiral Santin ordered. "Let them know we have a war on our hands." He requested surprisingly calmly.
Madrid, Spain
Prime Minister Tejero had arrived back in Madrid in the wee hours of the morning. Despite this, the governmental palace was perfectly alive with activity. Something was up - he hoped he hadn't missed anything while he was in Milan.
Miguel Tejero wasn't too surprised to find five or so men already sitting in his office when he got there. Tejero took his seat at his desk and clasped his hands.
"I trust you're here to tell me what's happened while I was away."
"Of course, Mr. Tejero." A man in naval regalia chimed in, calling him by his preferred title of Mr.(Senor) instead of 'excellency', which Tejero saw as needlessly formal. "Admiral Santiago Santin sent Madrid a message about ten minutes ago, informing us that he has opened fire on the American naval forces outside of Boston."
"I suppose that puts us at war with the United Socialist States of America."
"I would think so, Mr. Tejero."
"I'll address the republic in the morning."
USS Lincoln.
Atlantic Ocean.
So, the battle has begun over the small new nation known as the NER. The standoff between the Red Navy and the Spanish Fleet just turned violent, reminiscent to the standoff five years ago between the old USA and the old RNF.
Of course, a majority of the shots missed. Majority never means all. A couple glancing shots, and a few direct hits. Damage was gone, and about sixteen people lay dead.
"All ships, get into position, open up a full broadside on the Spanish fleet. Get all planes into the air, contact the Battle-groups and Washington and tell them that the Spanish have just attacked us and we're at war."
F-15s we're rocketed into the sky, and the heavy guns from the Battleships, Destroyers, Cruisers, and Frigates took aim at the Spanish fleet.
"Open fire, we only have to keep them away until the reinforcements arrive. Just fire, and don't stop firing."
The twelve ships present at the blockade all opened up their main weapons right at the spanish fleet, the water splashes were visible from here. The boats rocked slightly at the sheer recoil of the heave weapons. The Iowa-Classes 16"s were making a tremendous noise and their sheer sight was just saying, "Come at me bro."
USSA Battle group Whiskey
"All carries, launch planes. All carries, launch planes and move to attack the Spanish fleet 32 miles to the north."
The roars and screams of the Jet engines filled the sky as F-15 after F-15 took to the sky from the two carriers, before moving north and joining into the first battle of the USSA-Spanish War.
((Usually, your supposed to let the other person determine the damage you do to them. Like I'm doing now. I didn't say that I hit a thing, or the damage inflicted. That's up to the receiver of the damage.))
And so it began. Once again powerful nations were at war within Boston territory.
Though it had been New England's allies that triggered the war, New England would take no part in it. Not publicly, at least. The president of New England was immediately informed through secured communication methods, and his orders were a surprise to all.
" Mr. President, are you sure? " asked a rebel commander in disbelief.
" Yes. I am sure. Gather your men and stage the highjacking. " the president repeated.
There was a pause, the commander was speechless for a second.
" .. But sir.. this is a big risk. My men will surely die out there. "
" I know, " the president sighed, he knew what he was asking was by no means something a man of peace would ask, but a man of peace must also be capable of making sacrifices, still it weighted in his heart to have to give such orders. " Please understand that the nation of New England is at stake. We MUST end this war here, even if it means sacrificing some of our men. Try your best to get those men back safely, if you can, but please, do as I say. "
The commander took a deep breath, he couldn't believe what the president had asked him to do, " Yes, Mr. President. It will be done. "
Minutes after, the commander gathered several of his men, not many, just enough to man a cargo ship along with several civilian sailors.
" Listen up, gentlemen.
I'm not sure what you all see when you look out into the horizon, but I see a battle that will define the very future of this nation. A battle that will forever live in history, and I'll be damned if we sit here while our freedom slips right out of our grasp. So I ask, are you willing to risk your lives for this nation? "
" Yes, sir! "
" Are you willing to risk your very lives for this nation!? "
" Yes, sir! "
The commander laughed, these young men had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
" I'm not sure you all understand what I'm asking of you. " The commander stopped for a moment, thinking of a way to explain, but ultimately decided to be blunt about it. " Men.. I am asking you all to take part in what could very well be a suicide mission. Now, if any of you want out, you're free to go. You will not be looked down upon. But if you want to fight for your country, then please.. be here when I turn around. "
The commander turned around and began counting to thirty, giving anyone who didn't want to be a part of the mission time to leave.
When he turned around, to his surprise, all men were still there, standing in attention. He smiled, glad he had chosen the right men for the job. " Very well. " again he paused, thinking for a moment. Deciding to keep where the orders came from a secret, he continued, " You are to commandeer this here cargo ship and use it to engage the USSA fleet. "
One of the rebels spoke up, " But sir, the ship's got no armament... "
The commander laughed inwardly, shaking his head, " No son, that she does not, but let me tell you. She's got the mass. "
The men chuckled at the comment, but inside they were all terrified. The commander had just asked them to use a cargoship to ram a USSA battleship...
" Now, your mission is to use the cargoship to ram the biggest goddamn ship you see. I know it's crazy, but we're here to show those bastards exactly who they're ****in' with. I will send two smaller fishing boats to tail the cargoship and get your asses out of there once your mission has been completed, hopefully you all get back with your lives, but I won't lie to you, there is a chance none of you will. "
There was silence for several seconds. This was out of a movie, and never did any of these men ever imagined they'd be doing something so ridiculous.. However, they were more than willing to.
" Here's the catch. We are to stage a highjacking, and we're gonna' make this **** look as real as we can. Upon your departure, shots WILL be fired at the vessel, as if we're trying to stop you. We'll then alert the USSA fleet that a cargship has been highjacked and it's heading right for them.. however, we won't do that until you're right on them. If you're captured, remember, you're not rebels, and these orders were never given. Understood? "
" Yes, sir! "
(( I know this is crazy as all hell, but well, New Englanders are crazy as all hell. ))
(( By the way, yes. Several references to several things. ))
The NWC ships knew they had to help, so they mimicked the spanish and let all their guns go, directly at the Americans. The NWC ships continued the constant fire for a while, then they stopped, the Captain of the Revolution ordered a stop to the firing when he knew that he was wasting ammo.
The NWC aircraft were already in the air, and they had been using their stealth capabilities to stay hidden, but now that was no longer necessary. The NWC jets swooped down and dropped bombs on each carrier from a massive height. These were napalm bombs, not made to destroy the carriers but to disable them, they were dropped in huge quantities and at least 5 or 6 had a good chance to strike each ships deck. This napalm would make taking off suicide, the jet would ignite all its fuel before it reached the end of the runway. The jets suffered losses of course, fortunately these were GH-2's, however many were shot down, pilots ejecting in order to reach the shore of the NER.
((I mean, it was really up to you as to just what the damage that I inflicted was. I thought that having a few scored hits on your vessels was fair. I didn't want a post from you to the tune of "The Spanish barrage splashed down harmlessly around the American fleet."))
Off the coast of New England
A shot from the American guns obliterated the radar masts of the destroyer Cachalote, directly behind the Andalucia, before embedding itself into the deck Admiral Santin's flagship.
"Status report!" The Admiral demanded.
//Dios mio... Admiral, you wouldn't believe just how close that shell came to hitting the our ordinance stores.// An officer below-decks reported on the bridge's intercom.
//This is Captain Garza of the Valladolid. We've taken moderate damage to our stern. We-// The sound of the Valladolid's guns firing drowned out the captain's voice. //-ouldn't have to turn on the pumps, though.//
"Admiral, we're almost out of effective range from the American fleet. Much further and we'll have to cease fire unless they give chase. Shall we continue to move away from the Americans?" An ensign asked.
"Yes." The admiral replied, staring at the Americans through his telescope. "I'll order Captain Muceno to scramble his fighters, but we shall stay the course."
Madrid, Spain
Prime Minister Miguel Tejero's desk was surrounded by journalists bearing news cameras on their shoulders and microphones on booms. Flashes from photographers from El Pais and other newpapers bathed Tejero in pulses of white light before he began his address.
"Esteemed citizens of the Spanish Republic, it is with solemness and gravity that I report to you this morning that our nation is currently in a state of war with the United Socialist States of America. The oppression of the communistic American leadership over the young, hopeful new Republic of New England cannot and will not be tolerated by the Spanish Republic. Even now, our naval forces under the capable Admiral Santiago Santin are fighting alongside the Northwest Coalition to free the port of Boston from American blockades that would deny the people of New England the right to trade or fish. The entire Atlantic fleet is on full alert and much of this fleet has been directed to the Mid-Atlantic.
For too long, Spain has sat idly by as communism stamps out liberty around the planet. Today, however, Spain draws a line in the sand. This shall be the high-water mark of socialism. Henceforth, communism and socialism shall be on the retreat across the planet, and the first defeat of those wishing to enslave humanity begins today at Boston."
New England attempts to contact the USSA
The president, although confident the USSA can be defeated at Boston, realizes that regardless of the victor, this conflict would only bring full scale war between the nations, something neither of them could afford, especially not a developing nation like New England. Almost ditching the Canadian meeting, he demands that the officials in Boston attempt to contact the USSA and forward him to their leader through a secure form of communication.
Working under pressure from the president, the Boston officials do their best to contact the USSA, now it all comes down to whether they ( USSA ) are willing to answer.
(( Nova, they are trying to contact you. Pick up ;P ))
The operation was in motion. The air was still frigid and barely awake from the night as the men moved down the hill. The cavalry circled around a distance off. Before they entered range of the bridge they would hold back. The boots of the men clogged heavily against the frozen pavement. Quietly they made their way close.
The men took cover behind a farm-house. Alik moved to the back door and pushed with his hands. It opened without hesitation or resistance. Revealing inside the dusty sepulcher air. "It's abandoned, get in." he barked, motioning for several rifle-men to get inside, "Get upstairs, attach your scopes and wait for my orders."
At a close distance, the bridges looked a lot more distant than they did. Perhaps instead of drawing the fire, they'd force a re-positioning.
The thudding of boots could be heard as the soldiers navigated the second floor. Flecks of plaster and motes of dust drifted down. This home has probably been abandoned for years. Alik strolled about the empty room - the linoleum floors suggesting this was the kitchen - giving the men upstairs time to prepare themselves.
A minute passed. He reached out and grabbed a rifle from the hand of a tense private. Wrenching it from his hands he coolly raised it to the ceiling. Thud, thud, thud.
There was a brief delay as Alik handed the rifle back. Then the above began roaring with thunder as the sharp-shooters let off their shots. Alik rushed to the window, a broad smile on his face. Ripping a pair of binoculars from the satchel at his side he looked down the road at the bridge.
The morning guard had sharply returned to reality as the bullets traced through the air coming to rest near or in them. He gave the scene only a passing glance, not willing to give up any time. But from he saw the machine-gun emplacement had been cleared. "Go now comrades!" he hollered he a whooping voice, "Seize the day and this bridge!"
The room seemed to move as the men who followed him in pushed forward. Driving themselves to the furry of battle they ran through the back-door. "No!" Alik said, turning and catching more making their way through the house, "Your asses go out around the house with me!"
Minutes in and the sounds of gun fire had shattered the morning. The bridge defense had rallied itself, but not after suffering casualties. Bullets tossed by the defenders charged out to the Novgorodians. As the first fell cover was claimed. Diving behind abandoned vehicles and trees the assaulting force staked their claim to return fire.
From behind a tire-less truck (and decorated with bullet-holes) Alik paused and gave the second bridge a glance. He turned the dial on his binoculars. Several kilometers off the faint images of men could be seen. They were mobilizing themselves. But in which direction? He had to act fast.
"MOVE!" he yelled, "Rally on my brothers, we take this bridge now!"
The numbers of the battalion knocking the bridge was beginning to falter the guard. The sharp-shooters had long since stopped firing having cleared their targets. A few shots rang out from the abandoned house as they took pot-shots at anyone who slipped out from behind the supports of the bridge.
Alik spared another glance to the other bridge through his binoculars. This had to be his moment. A detachment was already on the move along the road towards them. He fumbled for the whistle on his neck, clenching it in his adrenline pumped hands he gave a loud blow.
The sound pierced the air and went above the gunshots. A harsh signalling blow. Fire from the enemy seemed to go into a lull for a moment as they discerned the meaning of that blow. A summons to retreat? Or push forward.
But the harsh cry of the silver bird that hung on Alik's nest was responded to be its mate. A faint call was sounded elsewhere. The Novgorod lancers had heard the call and were responding to its summons.
Alike grabbed at the assault rifle on his back. Checking the safety he grinned wide. "Follow me if you want to live!" he shouted and bolted to his feat as he charged out into the road. He unloaded his clip into the bridge, then dived to the side and rolled into a ditch. His men followed suit, either for fear of repercussion or that their CO was stock raving mad.
Looking up, Alik saw his cavalry had just arrived.
Bearing down on the assault from the second bridge came the horses. Their riders locked their weapons, a motley collection of sub-machine guns and assault rifles. Their horses spurred into the frenzy carrying them to Hell's gate and back.
Their captain threw his weapon into the air. Raising it high much as the lancers of the Great War would raise their sabers and spears in a rallying gesture. He gave a gleeful smile as his mind's eye filmed itself in the thick. Living his very own fantasy. To him, he wasn't on a barely plowed road fighting his own brethren. But he was was on the west-front, perhaps outside Krakow charging upon the Germans in a romantic dismissal of sanity.
The column they were advancing on flinched and broke as a thick wall of lead slammed into them. Shouts of pain, panic, and submission to death filled the air. Before they could turn to meet them the horses had already bore onto their position. "H'yea!" the captain cheered, putting his horse into a charge.
There was a meaty thud as a Vologdian was caught under the weight of the beast. Beaten and broken from the hooves he was thrown back in a bloody and beaten pulp.
They had claimed the heart of the column, and the loosely marching soldiers had begun to route. Half continued running into the thick of the first bridge, only to be greeted by the warm welcome of sniper's lead. The rest were pursued to the second.
Letter to the USSA from Beijing
Marcus Fernandez,
As we have learned. It is surprising to note that the news has traveled faster than this letter. No doubt an issue. But, if the nature of bad news it to arrive before the correspondence with a comrade than so is the nature of good news.
In the interests of sanity it has caught the nation's ears that Ukraine has declared a summit. I imagine that we are not welcome. But if you are, I - and my diplomatic affairs officer - advise going. Several of my generals have added their input, and we believe this could only turn to a stalemate not see since the Great War.
As I said to you before. Keep your guns and make sure the shine. But use your words as a weapon too. Utilize it as a sword, go to Kiev and ensure that it can be settled fairly.
We'll be watching,
Hou.
My DeviantArt, so sexy