Saint HeleneBoard

The Leopard lurches onwards towards the Lion’s Den.

462 miles of steep mountain terrain, charted through by a few structurally sound and large enough roads to support the Khudlaa-Khan’s forces on their march towards the capital. Great peaks crowd the road on both sides, with slopes sometimes at full verticals or overhanging along the entire paved road up the slopes of the West Chubvlai’s, through the Burkaguutsval gap, and onto the East Chubvlai’s, where they would gradually descend down the slopes and upon Chan’Kogalnikeau.

Through the first night, Costin’s forces made great progress under the shadow of darkness. Filled with reverence, a growing fire in their chest, and fanned by the final show of Costin to his superiors and those now under his command in preparation for his waiting ascension- the world seemed clear, absolute, and ready for the oncoming change as they hastily crowded into troop transports. Commanding the column, Costin and a few other key strategists and supporters drew up their tactical approach towards the capital as the time to act would draw near faster than they knew they needed. There was no time to slow in their approach, nor in their planning.

The shadows of transport trucks flashed across the stone cliff faces from illuminated road-lights bringing light to the road, while shadowing the great depths below and heights above in another veil of darkness and un-scalability. With its difficult terrain, they fought and clawed their way up and down the winding highway, crowded side by side as they pitched down the two-lane road, far more fit for civilian cars than military vehicles. In a few hours they had made only some 120-miles under gravity’s torrent and the chugging of their engines

Frustrated, and knowing time and the element of surprise was quickly fading with the shock that was surely being induced by the death of the Vu’duce and the appearance of a nondescript military convoy heading towards the capital, Costin slowly grew frustrated and impatient, yet kept a steady appearance before his comrades, and continued steadfast in his planning.

Still tuned into the strategic command channels of the Utocistite military, they continued under a perceived quiet through the dead of night. The sky was darker than usual, with the stars shining brighter than before. Fate, in Costin’s mind, was lining the way to Chan’Kogalnikeau. But as fate would have it, they could only get so far until the convoy was found out.

…

Dear brother,

I write to you in recognition of our history, and the history that stands before us.

I ask of you to forgive me, and my inexperience. I know that father’s passing and that of the dynasty will not bode well in your heart and in your mind. And the many flurries that have defined our times together will once again fall upon you.

We have both struggled, and will know struggle in times to come. We are two different men, how we have been raised and our experiences- but I wish to shed this difference. I don’t wish to feud with you or contend you and your ideas, but offer you an opportunity. Just as father had, The halls of Utociste-Zeme are yours as they are mine. There is indefinite possibility for you in our people’s realm, and places for you to make and install change within our government.

If a place of governance is unappetizing, I will fully support your endeavors in the military and onward. Your titles and rank are yours, and in-fact earned, rightfully and dutifully. There is no doubt about that. You have proved yourself over and over, and are too valuable of a brother and soldier to forget amidst the flurry of my new occupation.

I have nothing for you but…

Costin lifts his pen from the white paper, and lets his thoughts wander as he gazes out the window over the deadened city, with nothing astroke but yet the city lights remain lit, void of any activity, lighting the canvas of the city, with its native white walls, square structure, and hidden legacy. He thinks onward and about his letter, in somber reflection and pre-thought as to how to guide his brother back into the fray. He fades between thoughts about his brother and the city before him. It is dark- in fact, it's the dead of the night, and the capital lulls.

A day of death and a day of mourning had passed, in which the nation mourned but the Ketchenak Khan could not, for the state had to be tended too, and have the reality of its wounds revealed to its own inner workings. The heavy air of death, and the uncertainty of the country's future loomed heavy wherever the Ketchenak Khan wandered, even within his own ranks- followed closely by advisors, friends, and mourners who haunted him throughout the day. The Chan’s Palace was a hive who had lost its queen, or aptly, king, bee.

Now, Costin presented himself in valor and aptitude in any way possible as he tended to the swarm. He knew that while his crown and color displayed the prestige of a proper Khan, he needed to win and confirm his affiliations lest be rejected by those that controlled the Vu’duceship behind the scenes- for as powerful as the Vu’duceship was, it was only the head of a great body that controlled the many quarters and corners of Utociste-Zeme. An entire day of crafting resoluteness in the face of grief, and intelligence and courage in spite of zealousness. Dialogue over the future of the nation’s society, military, and state to determine if the young but trained Ketchenak Khan had the early hallmarks of a future, apt, Vu’duce.

In a dress mixed of a military stature and of the traditional black Utocistite mourning-garb, the Ketchenak Khan spent an entire day confined by the chalk and clay walls of the Chan’s Palace, seeing the progression of time through the windows of busy hallways. In his time during the first day, he realized the new respect he commanded, and felt more confident in his ability as the day progressed. But as the day ended, and the halls of the palace fell empty, he was once again reminded of his circumstances. The grief, everpresent, and the anxiety, rampant.

Hoping to find friendship and shed the sibling rivalry with his brother, and find some solace in himself in his own words, he wrote eagerly. But was now left unsure as he fought with himself to describe his relationship with his young brother. Although similar in many ways, an entirely different upbringing and life path differentiated them atop with physical characteristics. He felt like sometimes he had loved him only for that he was his brother, but maybe that was proof enough. Now he aimed to give him security in the face of uncertainty, or so he thought.

Still in a distracted trance, looking towards the city lights and trying to drum up the right synonym to describe his attachment, the rumble of boots was heard down the hallway. It grabbed his attention immediately, as the housekeeper's soft steps sounded nothing like it, and it remained far-too-early into the morning. He shifted his eyes towards his study door as he felt and heard them get nearer and nearer before finally they were at his door.

The door was knocked upon and opened, to the familiar sight of several military officials. Costin’s heart had already started to pound, but now a shiver was sent through his spine. If they weren’t there for him personally, there was still sure to be bad news. They saluted him as they entered in,

“What is it?!” Costin demanded, anxious towards whatever would happen next.

The generals exchanged a few brief looks to the horror of Costin before the eldest of the soldiers spoke. “There have been reports and a confirmed sighting from the military detachment in Anarba of an unannounced military column towards the capital.”

Costin frowned, and needed a moment to process the information, a moment not afforded. The general continued, “A similar report was later given by a lower ranking officer in Lahovnbagüi, which has gotten increasingly silent since yesterday…” The general looked upon the Ketchenak Khan, “They are saying your brother is leading the column towards the capital. It’s an insurgency, sir.”

Any emotion Costin showed on his face dropped, as he became pale and his eyes distant. A million thoughts rushed through his head. His father’s death, his older sister bolting, and now his brother’s betrayal in spite of any relation and common pain. His family now left him one by one. His heart thumped, and his brain told him to act, lest be seen as weak before the same generals who command respect in the branch divided by mutiny. He stood wearily from his chair, his arms slightly buckling under the weight of his situation. He looked at the generals, and them, at him.

“Wake the forces of the capital and surrounding cities, build strategic planning outside the city and higher into the Chubvlai’s. We want as little possible civilian casualties if it comes to that. Try and get a line to the convoy, and if it's true,,, I shall talk to my brother myself.” The Ketchenak Khan said. The general’s faces seemed somber, and with nods of acknowledgement, they exited the room towards the military corridors of the Chan’s palaces’ basement.

Costin, left on his own, fell back into his chair in expiration. Sadness, tiredness, and anxiety fell upon him. And once again he looked out the windows of his study towards the lights of Chan’Kogalnikeau. He was at his own mercy. Seconds later, he sat up scarily fast, and ripped up the letter in front of him, crumpling up its scraps and throwing them off his desk in frustration and betrayal. Pens and other folders sent flying, the yet-proven Vu’duce sat back and took deep breaths to calm himself.

…

Chaos had yet to fall over Chan’Kogalnikeau.

…

Florin’s finger traces a line on a map, shadowed on both sides by changing colors distinguishing sharply changing elevations, divided by a yellow and blue line parallel to each other- the Uruudaj’baina River and the highway carved into its valley crest. They had just rounded south around Anarba and were making decent headway down the eastern slopes of the Chubvlai’s. Two hundred and fifty miles separate them from the Chan’s Palace.

Although no longer fighting against the strain of gravity as they clawed their way up and through the Burkaguutsval Gap, they now fought with her, one foot almost always on the brakes as too not gain too much speed with the sometimes dangerous pitches and turns of the road. Traffic, even past midnight, still remained higher on the slopes surrounding the capital- and now the column was repeatedly passed by one after another civilian vehicles that further heightened the soldiers’ anxiety and alarm. The drive towards the capital was on, and now gradually descending in elevation, their pace was increased.

A hundred ranks of transport trucks, heading down towards their destiny at Chan’Kogalnikeau.

A hundred ranks soon to be met by a growing volume of military forces organized by the rightful Ketchenak Khan.

With the slow rising of the sun in a time that they were once shadowed by the mountains surrounding their homes and sanctity in Lahovnbagüi, the sky grew increasingly bright, and with it, the spirits of Florin and his closest supporters grimmer. The veil was slipping, if not already drawn back.

The Promise of Vu’duceship seemed to leave Florin as quick as the moon, dropping behind the Chubvlai mountains, leaving the absolution of day to shine with increasing brightness, and the day waking. Descending down, the Leopard has started to fall into the Lion’s grasp.

Chairman Borisov Announces Early Election

Following mounting pressure from the Listovian public and members of the Peoples' Assembly, Chairman Alexander Borisov has announced his intention to hold a General Election within the coming weeks. It comes amid calls on Chairman Borisov to hold an election to seek public support for a new mandate for a peacetime government.

It potentially looks to be an uphill battle for the Listovian Peoples’ Front whose polling has continued to decline since the defection of six LPF assembly members to the newly formed New Listovia party. This splinter party has been growing since its creation and is now polling second behind the LPF. Despite this growth a poll on 26 April put New Listovia 16 points behind.

Meanwhile the Listovian Democratic Party and Social Democratic Party continue to poll around 15 points each. Whilst Listovia First has seen its support collapse since January when New Listovia was created.

The upcoming election which will be held on 25 May, as it must allow a four week campaign period, will be the first to be held under a new electoral system. The new system will see 32 members elected from constituency seats whilst a further 88 will be elected from the nationwide popular vote subject to a five percent threshold.

In response to the news Nicholai Levitsky, the Leader of New Listovia, said “We welcome the Chairman’s announcement and his commitment to peacetime democracy but we must recognise his failure to secure the freedom of all Listovians. If elected my party will begin immediate discussions with Five Kingdoms to secure the release of the occupied northern territories and we will evaluate all necessary steps to ensure the freedom of all of Listovia.”

The Leader of the Listovian Democratic Party, Borek Sidorchuk, commented on the announcement “This election will be a chance for the Listovian electorate to decide how they want Listovia to rebuild and we believe that it is one where we are not controlled by a party that is more suited to being a paramilitary organisation.”

With four weeks now until polling day the future of the LPF’s current administration could soon be called into doubt. It is believed that the parties will begin campaign in the coming days with each hoping to command the Assembly by the end of May.

Fusion Technology Arrives to the Republic

In the midst of soaring energy prices the National Assembly has passed sweeping hills reforming environmental policy and bulldozing a decade worth of environmental policies in order to mediate the severe impact the Sumori Oil Crisis has on the national and global economy to the detriment of environmental activists. However, these activist may have won a significant battle against fossil fuels as they have successfully petitioned the National Assembly to hear an pass a new spending bill with clear intention for the Republic to invest in clean electrical energy derived from fusion nuclear power.

While Lunghan R&D has produced large scale fusion reactors, the government has coordinated and negotiated with the USFR to acquire its miniaturized fusion technology.

In cooperation with and investments from Massfusion and Westek, two of the most prominent fusion development and utilization corporations within the USFR, plans are being drawn for the construction of fusion cell manufacturing facilities. The mainland province of Huckxu and the Southern Isle province of Wongsam have provided the most ambitious bid packages. Construction of these facilities will not only employ high skilled high education professionals in the maturing nuclear industry but also hundreds if not thousands of distributors.

Investors look to the fusion cell as a transformative technology as seen in the 2022 Heunglum Techology fair as safe nuclear energy can be implemented in dozens of civilian uses.

ATLAS Mechanization Group has already announced its 4th generation commercial utility units will operate using hybrid fusion-hydrocarbon power trains in an effort to improve efficiency and endurance of their platforms.

This announcement as well as the passing of the new spending bill has led to a rise in the Guang Tech industrial Index. A sense of optimism has returned to the markets as the XJX inches upwards.

Additional trade deals were made official with representatives of the Green Army to purchase farming equipment. Assorted tractors and trailers are to be delivered through Rovengrad as Lunghan disaster relief efforts continue in the devastated port city of Zapadnoblast.

Sol Nods. “It would be interesting to combine Naragian Building techniques with Foreign Architecture. I will send a request.”

The Man bows respectfully, “May the Ancestors guide your Paw falls Imperator. And know should the republic fail You have our eternal Loyalty to be Our Emperor.”

Letter to Canineia, Lungha, And Any SSTO member willing to help.

Dear friends and Allies. My people have requested Something strange that I Hope you will indulge me with.

One of our cities was hit by a Hurricane that leveled much of the Ancient city. It is that City where Immigrants and refugees land when they first Arrive. A true Melting pot. If You could lend us Some Architect and builders we wish to have them rebuild the City with the design of many cultures. Should you agree your Builders and Architects will be given Lodging and payed the Same as the Naragian workers.

With Respect, Consul of Exterior, Sol Cerium Narag.

Westek and Mass Fusion, leading forces in fusion technology development within the USFR, are taking proactive steps following outreach from Lungha. The companies have announced plans to dispatch representatives to Lungha to engage directly with local stakeholders. This initiative comes as part of a broader collaboration aimed at integrating USFR's advanced fusion technology into Lungha's energy infrastructure.

**Westek and Mass Fusion's Involvement:**

1. **Discussion and Negotiation:**

Representatives from Westek and Mass Fusion are scheduled to meet with stakeholders in Lungha to finalize the terms of their involvement. These discussions will focus on key aspects such as pricing strategies, the scope and scale of the proposed manufacturing facilities, and the detailed logistics of technology transfer and implementation.

2. **Employment Strategy:**

A central topic in the upcoming discussions will be the employment strategy concerning both immigrants and local residents. Westek and Mass Fusion are committed to fostering a diverse and inclusive workforce, which will not only include hiring high-skilled professionals from the maturing nuclear industry but also opening hundreds, if not thousands, of positions for distributors and other auxiliary roles.

3. **Construction of Fusion Cell Manufacturing Facilities:**

The mainland province of Huckxu and the Southern Isle province of Wongsam have put forward ambitious bid packages to host the new fusion cell manufacturing facilities. The construction of these plants is expected to be a major boost to the local economies, providing numerous job opportunities and positioning these regions at the forefront of advanced energy technology development.

4. **Mass Production and Exportation Plans:**

In parallel with setting up operations in Lungha, Westek and Mass Fusion will commence mass production of fusion cores and fusion generators at their existing facilities in the USFR, and will be exported to meet the growing energy needs of Lungha, particularly for powering projects in Lungha R&D.

5. **Sustainable Development and Environmental Impact:**

Recognizing the sensitivity of this project from an environmental perspective, especially considering the recent opposition from environmental activists, both Westek and Mass Fusion are prepared to discuss how these technologies will not only conform to but exceed current environmental standards. This will be crucial in securing the support of both the government and the public.

6. **Educational and Training Initiatives:**

Recognizing the importance of local expertise in sustaining and operating fusion facilities, there will likely be talks on establishing training and educational programs. These initiatives would aim to transfer knowledge and skills to Lunghan professionals, ensuring the long-term operational independence and efficiency of the fusion generators.

**Hoped Outcomes:**

The visit by Westek and Mass Fusion representatives is hoped to lay the groundwork for a robust partnership between Lungha and the USFR in fusion energy development. By aligning technological, economic, and environmental objectives, and to spur Lungha’s energy industry forth.

In response to escalating global tensions and the strategic imperatives of regional stability, USFR has embarked on a significant military fortification project within the 5kob colony of the Raj. This endeavor is not only a show of the USFR's commitment to its allies but also a clear signal of its readiness to maintain peace through strength in North Fusea, the USFR will send a detachment of 40k troops to the raj as the beginning phases of operation iron curtain.

**__Comprehensive Defense Strategy:__**

The Raj, is positioned as a crucial geopolitical asset, and is set to transform into a bulwark of defense and power projection under the USFR's ambitious plans. The strategy involves a multi-layered defense system, integrating state-of-the-art military technology with rigorous troop readiness programs.

**__Fortifications and Static Defenses:__**

- **Outer Wall:**

The construction of an extensive outer wall, made from steel-reinforced concrete and equipped with integrated weapon emplacements, will serve as the primary barrier against ground invasions. This formidable structure will be engineered to withstand severe bombardments and breach attempts.

- **Automated Turrets and Weapon Stations:**

Strategically dispersed throughout the Raj, automated turrets will bolster the outer defenses by providing relentless firepower against encroaching forces. These automated systems will be equipped with AI capabilities to target enemy vehicles, infantry, and low-flying aircraft effectively.

**__Air Defense Systems:__**

- **Advanced Radar Networks:**

A sophisticated array of radar systems will envelop the Raj, offering comprehensive surveillance capabilities to monitor and respond to aerial threats promptly.

- **Surface-to-Air Missiles:**

SAM batteries will be strategically positioned to create a dense network of anti-air defenses, capable of intercepting and neutralizing aircraft at various altitudes and speeds.

- **Jet Squadrons:**

dedicated squadrons of advanced fighter and interceptor jets will patrol the Raj's airspace, equipped and ready to engage any aerial threats that penetrate the outer missile defense layer.

**__Ground and Support Infrastructure:__**

- **Military Bases:**

New bases will be constructed across the Raj to accommodate not only infantry but also specialized units. These facilities will house aircraft, power armor units, and armored vehicles, ensuring rapid deployment capability and operational readiness.

- **Supply Depots and Repair Stations:**

To support sustained military operations, comprehensive logistics hubs, including supply depots and repair stations, will be established. These facilities will ensure that all military equipment is maintained in peak condition and that essential supplies are readily available.

- **Underground Networks:**

Beneath the urban centers, a complex network of tunnels will be developed. These will provide safe passages for civilian evacuation, facilitate covert movements of troops, and serve as secure command centers during crises.

**__Troop Training and Readiness:__**

- **Specialized Training Programs:**

Troops stationed in the Raj will undergo intensive training focused on urban warfare and defensive operations, emphasizing minimizing civilian impact while maximizing operational effectiveness.

**__Stockpiling Essential Resources:__**

Critical resources such as food, water, and medical supplies will be stockpiled extensively to ensure the Raj can sustain itself independently during prolonged sieges or blockades.
To further enhance the fortifications within the Raj and ensure an heavy defense posture, the USFR will implement a multi-tiered perimeter defense strategy ahead of the main wall construction. This strategy is meticulously designed to neutralize various threats ranging from ground assaults to advanced aerial attacks, providing a comprehensive shield over the Raj.

**__Multi-Layered Perimeter Defenses:__**

**__ Advanced Minefields and Obstacle Fields:__**

- **Minefields:**

Extensive minefields will be laid out surrounding the primary defensive perimeters, incorporating both anti-armor and anti-personnel mines. These minefields will serve as a critical first line of defense, designed to disable or destroy enemy armored vehicles and deter infantry advances.

- **Obstacles and Barricades:**

Along with minefields, a series of obstacles, including razor wire, tank traps, and reinforced barricades, will be strategically placed to hinder any form of vehicular movement and complicate direct assaults on foot.

**__Enhanced Natural and Constructed Vantage Points:__**

- **Sniper and Scout Nests:**

Utilizing the natural geography of the Raj, sniper nests will be established in elevated positions, particularly within tree lines, to provide broad surveillance and targeted engagement capabilities. Additional scout and sniper positions will be constructed on various surface areas to monitor enemy movements extensively and coordinate effectively with other defensive assets like drones and artillery.

**__Trench Warfare Capabilities:__**

- **Defensive Trenches:**

Before reaching the main outer wall, enemy forces will encounter a network of strategically dug trenches. These trenches will provide USFR troops with protective fighting positions, enabling them to engage the enemy effectively while minimizing exposure to direct fire.

**__Integrated Air Defense System:__**

- **Defensive Web for Missile Defense:**

To counter the threat posed by both hypersonic and conventional missiles, a sophisticated defensive web will be established. This system will include advanced missile interception technologies capable of tracking and neutralizing incoming threats before they can reach their target.

- **AA Battery Defenses:**

Complementing the missile defense web, anti-aircraft (AA) batteries will be installed at critical points around the Raj. These batteries will be equipped with the latest in surface-to-air missile technology & anti-aircraft guns, ready to engage and destroy any hostile aircraft that manages to penetrate the outer radar coverage.

**__Comprehensive Integration with Existing Defenses:__**

These new enhancements will seamlessly integrate with the already planned robust fortifications, which will include:

- **Outer Wall:**

A formidable barrier will constructed that will be made of steel-reinforced concrete, featuring weapon emplacements designed to resist and repel ground assaults and bombardments will be constructed as an outer barrier to withstand heavy sieges to wear down enemy forces.

- **Automated Defense Systems:**

Automated turrets and heavy weaponry stations will be strategically deployed to maintain relentless suppression and engagement of approaching threats.

As part of the comprehensive defense initiative within the Raj, USFR will institute a rigorous program of meticulous invasion drills designed to ensure operational readiness and effectiveness of all military personnel stationed in the region. These drills have been crafted to simulate a variety of invasion scenarios, allowing troops to practice response and engagement strategies under highly tense and stressful conditions.

**__Objectives of the Invasion Drills:__**

The primary objectives of these invasion drills will include:

- **Enhancing Tactical Proficiency:**

This will be to refine the tactical skills of the troops in responding to different types of invasions, ranging from ground assaults to aerial attacks.

- **Testing Defense Systems:**

The USFR will assess the functionality and effectiveness of all defensive installations, including automated turrets, missile silos, AA batteries, and the extensive minefield and obstacle setups.

- **Improving Coordination:**

The USFR understands coordination is essential and will foster seamless coordination between different branches of the military, including infantry, armored units, air force, and support services within the integrated defense network.

- **Stress Testing Communications:**

The USFR will ensure that all communication systems perform optimally under the stress of an invasion, maintaining command and control across various layers of defense.

**__Structure of the Drills:__**

The drills are structured to cover every aspect of the defensive installations in the Raj:

- **Phase One: Perimeter Breach Simulation:**

This phase will test the outermost defenses, including the effectiveness of minefields, trenches, and sniper nests in slowing or halting an enemy advance. Troops will practice repelling attackers using both direct and indirect fire from entrenched positions and fortified bunkers.

- **Phase Two: Air Assault Response:**

Simulated enemy air assaults will challenge the air defense systems. This will include deploying interceptor jets and activating SAM batteries and the missile defense web to engage incoming aircraft and missiles. This phase tests the radar and surveillance network's capacity to detect threats early and distribute information swiftly to response units.

- **Phase Three: Command and Control Maneuvers**:

Phase Three will focus on the command structure’s ability to control the flow of information and troop movements during an invasion. Includes real-time strategic decision-making exercises to adapt to dynamic battlefield conditions.

- **Phase Four: Counter-Attack and Regrouping Exercises**:

After repelling the initial invasion attempt, troops will practice counter-offensive maneuvers. This involves mobilizing rapid response teams, including armored and air mobile units, to exploit perceived weaknesses in the enemy's approach.

- **Phase Five: Long-Duration Siege Scenarios**:

Phase five will simulate prolonged siege conditions to test the sustainability and endurance of supply lines and the morale of the troops. This will ensure that logistical frameworks like stockpiling and underground networks are robust and fully functional.
**__Realism and Safety Protocols:__**

To ensure the realism of the drills, live ammunition and pyrotechnics will be used, replicating the chaos and intensity of an actual battle scenario. However, strict safety protocols will be in place to prevent injuries. The use of advanced simulators and virtual reality will also be integrated to provide diverse training environments and minimize risk.

**__Continuous Evaluation and Improvement:__**

Post-drill evaluations are critical components of the exercise. Each drill will be thoroughly analyzed by senior military strategists and external defense consultants to identify areas of improvement, adapt tactics, and upgrade technologies as needed. This continuous loop of performance, evaluation, and enhancement will ensure that the defense systems and troops remain at peak readiness.

Several state-of-the-art naval bases will be built as well. These installations will play a crucial role in enhancing the maritime defense capabilities of the USFR within and around the Raj, ensuring control and security over the surrounding waters and providing critical support for operations across all branches of the military.

**__Strategic Location and Design:__**

- **Location Choice:**

USFR naval bases will be strategically located along the coastline of the Raj, chosen for their tactical advantage and ease of access to international waters. These locations will provide the USFR Navy with the capability to project power across the region and respond swiftly to any maritime threats.

**__Naval Bases:__**

- **Infrastructure Design:**

Each base will be constructed with durability and functionality in mind, equipped to withstand potential maritime and aerial attacks. The designs include heavily fortified docks, advanced ship repair and maintenance facilities, and secure moorings for a variety of naval vessels, ranging from submarines to aircraft carriers.

**__Key Components of the Naval Bases:__**

- **Shipyard and Repair Facilities:**

Central to the naval bases will be the shipyard and repair facilities, capable of servicing a wide array of naval vessels. These facilities will ensure that all naval assets remain operational and can be quickly restored to combat readiness following any engagements or damages.

- **Logistics and Support Systems:**

The bases will house extensive logistics and support systems, including ammunition depots, fuel storage, and provisioning complexes. These facilities are critical for the sustained deployment of naval forces, especially during prolonged engagements.

- **Command and Control Centers:**

Each base will feature state-of-the-art command and control centers equipped with advanced communication and surveillance technologies. These centers will coordinate naval operations not only within the waters of the Raj but also integrate with broader military activities across the region.

- **Training and Simulation Facilities:**

To maintain the highest level of readiness, the bases will include comprehensive training and simulation facilities. These will provide naval personnel with the skills needed to operate in a variety of combat scenarios, from anti-piracy operations to large-scale naval engagements.

**__Defensive and Offensive Capabilities:__**

- **Air Defense Systems:**

The USFR recognizes the threat of aerial attacks, each naval base will be equipped with robust air defense systems, including surface-to-air missiles and anti-drone systems. These defenses will protect the bases from potential air strikes and surveillance attempts.

- **Maritime Surveillance:**

Advanced maritime surveillance systems will monitor sea traffic and detect potential threats at significant distances from the coast. This capability allows for preemptive action to neutralize threats before they can approach the naval bases or other critical infrastructure.

- **Quick Response Forces:**

The bases will host quick response forces, including special operations units and rapid deployment groups, ready to be dispatched at a moment’s notice. These forces will be for addressing emergent threats and providing assistance during maritime disasters or rescue operations.

In a course of events much-anticipated by the Sumori government, President Al-Hafez has convened the Cabinet to decide how to combat the Oil Crisis…

Cabinet Room
Presidential Palace

Jazaar stood at the window looking over the lawn below, sipping from a glass of extremely expensive liquor, particularly of eastern Sumori make. He turned and saw the Cabinet members filing in.

“Good, good. Take a seat, everyone.” Jazaar said, taking a seat at the far end of the table.

The Cabinet murmured and quited as they sat waiting.

“I believe it is time we begin to enact a proper response to the oil crisis. We have been silent for… far too long.” Jazaar said.

Others agreed and nodded.

“Now, on that note… I would like to open with a proposal, as follows:

One - we will give Haijja Oil and Gasoline authority to begin breaking through areas we suspect may still hold some amount of oil.

Two - Latiasan Energy gets rights to begin rapidly accelerating their construction of solar and fission plants.

Three - Dhurma Electromotives Inc. gets the rights to begin the construction of high-speed rail nationwide, scheduled for completion in the next five to ten years.

Four - The Ministries of Agriculture, Health, and the Interior will dispatch stimulus aid packages to the Sumori people numbering 6500 Chronus.

Five - The discontinuation of the Sumori Riyal must be undertaken, and it shall be replaced with the Sumori Dierham as our primary internal tender with the Chronus continuing to act as our reserve currency. The Riyal will have an exchange rate of 1000 Riyals per every 1 Dierham due to the inflation behind the Riyal.

Six - We will begin to import oil resources to lessen the effects of our depletion, but this will be very restricted to urge our transition to renewables.

Seven - Trade deals with several nations will be opened up to facilitate other fields, such as textiles, automotives, electronics, semiconductors, and so on.

Now, with that out of the way, we may begin, and may alter these terms as needed during this conference.” Jazaar said.

The Agriculture, Health, and Interior ministers raised their hands.

“You three? One at a time. Agriculture?”

“Yes… we can facilitate such needs, but we must address the potential for a famine or a lack of safe drinking water in this course of action. After all, the lack of our oil industry has greatly bankrupted the Sumori nation.” The minister said.

“We can add that to the list, importing strategic resources such as grain and other related products.” Jazaar said. “Health?”

“How will this stimulus package affect our funding?” the Health minister said.

“A minimal tax increase would see your funding raised by a negligible amount, if at all a positive.” Jazaar said. “Interior?”

“Well, I was going to bring up my own points, but the Health and Agriculture ministries have answered my questions.” the minister said.

“Good. Anyone else?” Jazaar said.

The economic minister raised their hand.

“Ah, Economy. I was waiting for you.” Jazaar said. “Please, proceed.”

“Okay… I'm going to start by saying that the Dierham is quite a brilliant idea on the part of this government, but I worry for its stability in the face of investors and the general public. We wouldn't want to have the Riyal repeat itself, would we? As for the conversion rates, I see no issue - exchanging the Riyal for such a little amount of the Dierham could backfire, but as of yet that remains to be seen. As for the trade deals, I see no issue. Thank you.” The minister said.

“Well… that was certainly enlightening, minister.” Jazaar said optimistically. “Anyone else?”

The room went silent.

“Well… I suppose we can begin implementing these reforms effective immediately after the National Assembly voting.” Jazaar said.

National Assembly Grand Chamber

The voting…

FOR the reforms proposed by the SUMORI CABINET AND THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED REPUBLIC, JAZAAR AL-HAFEZ: 467
AGAINST the reforms proposed by the aforementioned: 30
ABSTAIN from the reforms proposed by the aforementioned: 2
PRESENT (no vote): 1

With this landslide passing, the reforms could begin…

As promised, Haijja Oil and Gasoline was given rights to begin breaking open potential oil wells once more, but the efforts of finding these would take some time to yield any results. Latiasan Energy would begin to build solar and fission plants with more government subsidies being provided, Dhurma Electromotives began to construct plans on the building of state-of-the-art high-speed rail across Sumoriant. The Agriculture, Health, and Interior Ministries dispatched 6500 Chronus as a stimulus aid to the Sumori people - an act appreciated by many, though some wished for more. The Health ministry would see its funding increased marginally as a small tax increase was implemented, angering some but having no reaction from the majority of the Sumori population.

Most notably, Sumoriant would in the following weeks and months discontinue the Sumori Riyal, and implement the internal usage of the Dierham, exchanging 1000 Riyals for 10 Dierham, as well as beginning to import oil resources, though on a limited scale so as to promote renewable energy usage.

Trade deals with other nations would be opened, most notably Syrvostrovia, Lungha, the Rynese Confederation, the Austro-Germanic Union, the Republic of Wardency, the Peninsular Empire, and the Five Kingdoms. These deals would include buying nuclear-powered vehicles and other related products, alongside allowing companies like RobCo to set up shop in Sumoriant; solar materials and other electronics from Lungha, 25 starting dealerships from Gewitter and Ceratti from the Rynese Confederation, AI-accelerated semiconductors from Wardency, Refined reactor-grade thorium from the Austro-Germanic Union, grain from the Peninsular Empire, and textiles from the Five Kingdoms.

Overall, many in Sumoriant rejoiced in jubilation at the government's action to combat the ongoing economic crisis and begin recovery, but the road to prosperity would remain long, and take a lot of time to fulfill…

Wardency
Great Jenovah
The Austro Germanic Union
5 Kingdoms of Britannia
Lungha
Rynese Empire
SFRS Syrvostrovia

Nearly a month after the commencement of air strikes on Cadetist territory, the skies above places such as Kripsk and Ostrosetin had become mired with SSTO fighters and aircraft, their presence quite a sight for the sore eyes of the democratic resistance in these areas - but also a consistent pain for ground troops bearing the Purple banner, who, lacking more modern anti-air defenses, had begun to suffer quite serious battle damage from airstrikes. The absence of smuggled-in foreign weaponry, despite the reports that numerous nation’s militaries had taken some form of interest in the Merilian battlefield, proved a pleasant surprise to Solarian war planners, who were now ready to move the next piece on the chess board.

At a frosty airbase up in the Solana Mountains, an Army colonel briefed his subordinate officers, a group of sharply dressed, green-wearing men, many of them young and daring, well-suited for these matters. “It has been decided,” the high-ranking individual stated, his greying hair, firm accent, and well-kept mustache being more indicative of his seniority than even his rank tabs, “that we shall proceed with an aerial invasion in and around the city of Hoffgrad, the smuggler cartel’s base of operations, and, as we see it, the weak underbelly of the Zapmilkom.“

The young officers each processed this news in their own way. Still, most arrived at the same conclusion: Hoffgrad, close to the core territories of the Purple menace, but separated from them by a series of vulnerable bridges, and removed from the main garrison elements of the MPF at Artemirod, would be easiest to conquer. Not easy - but easiest. An elaborate plan was laid out. Splitting Ostrosetin into five separate sectors, the 1st Airborne Division of the Solarian Army, assisted by Air and Navy forces, would para drop around the city, encircling it in its entirety. Meanwhile, a contingent of Marines would land directly at the city’s docks through the Reiker River, and as a follow-up, an air assault would land on top of Hoffgrad’s airport shortly after.

What came before this - minor incursions of small-scale units, or long-range attack actions - was far removed from the scale of this operation. Army, Air, Navy, and Special Forces - everyone would take part in this mission. There was no time to waste in this - it was time to get to work.

…

By the time midnight hit (AKA “Zero Hour” for the Solarian troops), the sun had long set above Kripsk Valley. The weather, partly cloudly but otherwise calm, offered a bit of natural cover to the transport planes in the sky, but they knew that what they could best rely on were their escort fighters - who lobbed bombs and missiles at anything that looked remotely threatening. Ferrying dozens, if not hundreds of troops each, even just one of these lumbering aircraft going down would be a catastrophe for the operation. Everyone counted in an airborne raid.

Captain Nichols of the 143rd Transport Squadron, 11th Air Wing, looked behind his seat and through the open cockpit door, glancing at the mass of soldiers all bunched up in the plane’s cargo hold. Mostly focused on his flight controls, he was only able to see an amorphous blob of green-gray uniforms with occasional elements of black. Even though he couldn’t take a good look at them, he knew that there were 200 troops loaded in the back of his C-31 transport, plus a couple of up-armored cars and palletized crates as well. Some of them had experience from combat drops in Osaka, but mostly everyone else had been along for just the training missions. A few were twiddling nervously, some were hyping themselves up for the fall, but most were just glad that they were facing off criminals and glorified paramilitaries rather than a League armored battalion. Nichols’ co-pilot looked at the onboard GPS and yelled out through the PA system:

”Dropline begins in ONE mike! Get your asses moving!”

Jumpmasters in the back repeated his message with more vulgarity, all the while the rear and side doors opened up, letting a fresh stream of air in, which manned up the enlists and signaled that they were closing in on their target. The seconds ticked down, the crowd got loud, and then the order came in: ”GO, GO, GO!”

War cries and cheers erupted in a spontaneous display of high morale, as the first batch of men jumped out, their parachutes unfurling soon after. “Platoon 1 is out! Second platoon, get ready! You drop in ten seconds!” a bald, red-faced sergeant screamed at the top of his lungs, as he attached himself to a hook. Yep, that’s our dirt crawlers, alright… I think they’ll make it, Nichols thought to himself, reassured by the display. The ammo crates and combat vehicles on the transport were soon ejected via a fast line, in an area a good distance away from any enemy encampments - to avoid the risk of it drifting away into Cadetist hands.

Within a few minutes, the entire cargo hold would be emptied out, its former inhabitants’ fates now squarely in the hands of their own skill. But that didn’t mean it was over for the pilots - who, under operation orders, were to continue flying in formation with the other transports deployed, as, in the rare occurrence that a Merilian fighter formation somehow broke through the ranks of Solarian fighter jets, they were to act as decoys. This sacrificial role would have discomforted the captain, were it not for his intimate of how thoroughly and utterly the Cadetist air force had been wrecked at the beginning of the Alliance’s air campaign. He wasn’t about to get done in by some third-rate airframes, so he could lay back and let the autopilot handle the in-flight adjustments.

“Flight Lieutenant, tune in our secondary radio on the frequency of the ground troops. I want to hear what’s happening down there,” Nichols ordered, adjusting his helmet-mounted visor as the green, grainy particles that made up the night vision display had been tiring his eyes out for a long time now.

“Understood, Sir, but shouldn’t we keep monitoring the civil aircraft frequency? Protocol dictates that we have to keep an eye for passenger-” the Lieutenant attempted to raise a procedural objection but was cut down by Nichols’ sharp reply:

“If someone other than us is flying through this airspace, they are dumb, blind, or suicidal and I’m not going to miss this battle for them. Turn the dial.”

With a singular nod, the copilot took his left hand away from the plane’s instruments and flicked to another radio net, before muting the transmitter on their end, so that they could listen in and talk over it without interrupting the paratrooper unit. Outside, to the left and right of the aircraft, dozens of parachutes popped open, their diamond-like shapes standing out even in the midst of night. Down below them, a largely flat, dark landscape - an untrained eye couldn’t tell apart the small villages from the shadows of the forests that lurked around them. Only one or two flickers of light could be seen from such a distance, but they became a rarity, with nightly blackouts being ordered by the local garrisons, to throw off Solarian pilots (albeit to little success.)

<< Bravo 2 here! Landed in Sector A-3, two hundred meters south of our target! Moving in to grab our equipment. >>

<< Alpha 5 here. Cadetist positions in Sector B-1 confirmed. Moving on to securing our field headquarters. >>

Gunshots and their yellow-red muzzle flashes popped out sporadically from below, not from the Solarian side, whose weapons had been integrally suppressed, but rather from frantic enemy fighters, caught with their pants down. Some shot in the direction of the landing zones, others in the sky, in a childish hope of hitting someone so far away, and even yet some fired wildly at their surroundings, be it at treelines or empty fields, on which only animals could be found, but no real humans.

“We’ve caught them completely off-guard,” aptly remarked the Lieutenant. “It’s going to be a crapshoot for them. I’m just praying they won’t hit any of our guys while they’re still coming in.”

“Yeah… I’m surprised they haven’t given up already, y’know,” the Captain replied, distracted as he glanced between the aircraft’s throttle and its monitoring cameras.

“... You mean the Purples? The airdrop’s just begun, it’d be a bit early to throw in the towel, even for them.”

“I mean, I imagine most enemy garrisons are composed of those cartel fighters. Cybulka’s smugglers, you know? I read up on the combat reports from JSF - if they’re right, then they’re mostly thugs and guns-for-hire, rather than uniformed soldiers.”

“Damn. Then this is even more one-sided than I thought.”

A pair of F-61s zoomed past the formation of transports, breaking off somewhere toward the west. << Falcata 9, dropping, dropping! Bombs away! >>

Each let off two somethings - too far off and obscure to identify - and circled back into line. A few seconds later, explosions rocked a number of the bridges connecting Ostrosetin to the mainland. With their main lines of connection cut off, it just became that much harder for hostile reinforcements to arrive at the newly established front.

“There’s still a chance they can come back from this, but I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you,” Nichols stated, grinning at the display of allied air power. “What I can sure bet on, though, is that whoever thought trying to attack us was a good idea is getting the chewing of his lifetime right now.”

“Or rolling in their grave,” the copilot added. “What a stupid way to get invaded. If only they’d at least hit us harder, we could call it fair and square.”

“Their only lucky break right now is that they’ve done so little damage to us that we have to show restraint. If it wasn’t election season soon, we’d be bombing the suburbs of Kiezin already.”

“With how things are going, we’re not far from that, either.”

More jets showed up from behind the formation, heading further north. << Gladius Leader to all aircraft, breaking formation and heading to IP Hallstal to bomb enemy units stationed at Frunheit. Will be back on station in ten mikes, over. >>

“I guess we really are going all in, huh?”

“You can bet on it, Lieutenant. This is the biggest airborne operation since the Kyushu relief mission. We can’t afford to lose here.”

“No, I mean, into this whole conflict. If we’ve got this many boots on the ground, then this thing can only end two ways: with our troops holstering the Sun emblem all over Merilia, or with their mothers holstering the same flag over their graves.”

“I’d rather the former over the latter, and I think everyone at home who isn’t an auth-loving bastard does, too. Politics be damned, we’re gonna free this city. I’m sure the people down there are crying for liberty - so they’ll be glad to see us.”

Captain Nichols couldn’t have known it at the time, but he was right - glad they were… Perhaps a bit more than even the ground troops expected…

…

Gliding slowly through the frigid spring breeze, with the stars above their heads and their targets below, two dozen paratroopers, which had been split into four columns, landed neatly on the plains of Ostrosetin. Corporal James Sturrock, 1st Airborne, 2nd Bde., A Coy., stretched out his legs as he prepared to hit the ground, and, with a small dash to keep his balance, successfully touched down, cutting loose his bulky parachute. Glancing around, he saw fellow squadmates gaining their bearings just as he was and heard over the radio from his sergeant: “Alpha 2-3 to all units, we’ve landed at LZ Blackstone! Moving on to engage targets in Sector A-1! Over.”

The “sector” they’d found themselves in - known simply as the village of Breslack to the locals - laid right between the Reiker and one of the transport arteries leading up to Hoffgrad. It was a small settlement, no more than a few hundred residents, yet its unlucky position put it in the crossfire of Solarian and Merilian troops. All of 2-3’s troops gathered up by some light foliage just half a kilometer north of the town, Sturrock included. Sergeant Parris, crouched down by some dirt with his M3-20 rifle laid against a bush, explained to his team with a hurried pace and a harsh accent:

“Mes amis, I just received a report from the platoon commander about gunfire around several of our sectors having occurred right before our drop. We don’t know what’s happened to cause it, but clearly, there’s something more lurking around here besides us.” Raising two fingers, he pointed at the dirt and drew two wedged lines on it, then a big square in front of them. “Stay on alert and keep your eyes peeled. Miles, Larue, you two cover my flanks - Sturrock, take Tomik and Orlov with you, and stay by my right side. We’ll envelop A-1 with a two-side attack, just like we planned. Are we all clear?”

“Rah, sarge,” came the standard reply.

Standing up, weapon in hand, Parris flipped his binocular NVG sights on. “Quad-tubes active, everyone,” he ordered, referring to the affectionate nickname Army units gave the device. “Double-time it.”

Sturrock moved ten, maybe twenty meters west of the sergeant, with his team. “Two Mithrans and one Olympian…” he remarked of the team’s makeup. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

Tomik chuckled slightly, muffled by his green drab bandana, while Orlov replied rather bluntly “Don’t imply anything weird. You already know I am not one of those types.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say in the first year in the Army…” Examining his surroundings, Sturrock couldn’t help but feel some slight nostalgia for his old hometown. The picturesque valley landscape here was much more similar to the fields and farms of Thrakeld than the blocky airbase up in the snowy mountains he’d been stationed at for the past two years. “This sight takes me back. Minus the explosions and hordes of planes.”

“I just wish there were more trees around here,” Tomik lamented with a sigh as he flicked on an IR flashlight, seemingly alert. “I feel naked walking around in the open like this. I’d rather not get domed from the start…”

“We’re only a hundred meters out from the ridgeline, we’ll be fine - OpFor’s blind as bats anyway,” said the corporal, reassuringly. As they finished the last stretch of their walk, Sturrock and his team pushed up against some boulders on the small hill overseeing Breslack. It gave an imperfect view, with the little difference in elevation making it difficult to see past the houses at the edges of the village, but they could see the exits of the town, its center, as well as the backyards. Parris’s team, meanwhile, took up a post right next to the road from Breslack towards Hoffgrad, allowing them to see deeper into the settlement.

“Eyes on A-1,” the sergeant called over the radio. “Take aim. HUDs on.”

The SAF’s “next-gen” smart optic wasn’t the end-all-be-all that was advertised on prime-time news and web articles: no, it couldn’t aim your gun for you, and no, it didn’t let you see through walls. But it did have an in-built rangefinder and thermals, as well as, most importantly here, a wireless communicator that allowed field leaders to mark targets for their subordinates. The corporal’s team looked down their sights, seeing in real time as markers popped up in their field of view. They pointed at a pick-up with some type of gun mounted on it (fifty cal was his guess) and a few dismounts surrounding it. Another pair of markers pointed at the porches of some of the houses - but from his position, Sturrock couldn’t see them.

“Seven targets total - six smugglers, one MPF. Corporal, how many do you have visual on?”

“Four, sarge, all smugglers,” came the reply.

“Copy. Ten seconds. Fire on my mark.”

James turned around and checked up on his two subordinates. “Orlov, get some rapid fire around that truck, Tom, cover my right flank, don’t let any stragglers out. I’ll take out the mounted gunner.”

“On it, boss,” replied Tomik, while Orlov just quietly shuffled around with his machine gun.

A tense silence followed, broken up by the sarge’s countdown: “Three… two… one… Weapons free!”

What followed was not a bang, but rather the quiet “crack” of the suppressed weapons, each “pop” quickly being succeded by another. The disorganized formation below quickly fell apart: Orlov’s bursts tore through two men, while Sturrock, with just a couple of shots, made the poor soul standing on the truck bed fall over and crash with a direct hit to the head. Parris’s team, meanwhile, knocked out two patrolling crooks and one Cadetist trooper, who seemed to have been barking orders at the others. His body fell flat before he could get another word out. The last remaining hostile tried to jump into one of the nearby houses, but PFC Larue with the sergeant shot out a grenade from his under-barrel mount that shredded through him, his flesh ripped to bits and pieces. The visceral image was only obfuscated because of the low visibility in the night.

“Tangos are down. Moving in to sweep the area. Corporal, push the center, my team will go house-by-house.”

“Aye aye, sarge.”

Going down the ridge and into the town, the three-man squad pushed up to a slightly larger building and stacked up on its rear door. “I’m taking point,” called out Sturrock. “Cover me and keep your lasers and IR lights on. Remember: hearts and minds, don’t spill them on the floor if they’re civvies. Y’all catch that?”

Two “mhms” came in reply, prompting the corporal to kick the door wide open, nearly ripping it off its hinges. “Go, go!” The place was filled with tables, chairs and what looked like a bar counter. A small man, upon seeing the troopers, cowered in the far corner of the building behind a rack of vintage wines on show. Though he was well-illuminated for the soldiers, from his perspective, they were just shadows, shadows with guns, possibly cartel members who’d finally decided to take over his locale, or something worse. No other souls seemed to reside here.

“Clear! Orlov, get on that guy’s case, calm him down, and see what he can tell us. Tomik, with me, we’ll take the windows.”

While specialist Orlov spoke what little he knew of Intermerilian, the other two took up positions that allowed them to inspect the village closer. A row of houses with a fishery lay on the other side of the road, while the enemy’s corpses were strung out along the town center. James could tell some of them were still twitching, perhaps even breathing, a rather gruesome thing to witness for someone who had never shot a human being before. Pretty sobering, too. Did these guys wake up in the morning and know they were living their last day on Strangereal? No, probably not. James knew it might’ve been the case for himself, the whole of 1st Airborne did, but these guys? They were the ones who weren’t even told about their imminent demise. Mere collateral in a game of global warfare, lives wasted in the crossfire, who had no higher causes or glorious battles to ascribe their deaths to.

Then again, most of them were low-life bandits who’d probably spent most of their time since reaching maturity causing trouble, terrorizing folks, drinking, and beating their wives, so this was a form of cosmic karma. James wasn’t exactly the most religious person alive, but, hey, maybe the Harbinger of Light decided that these guys had to go - he was just carrying out her will, right? … Probably not, but still, he’d like to pretend he was.

“Specialist, what’s the hold-up?” asked Sturrock, getting his head out of the clouds. “Can you figure out what he’s saying? We can’t get bogged down, the others are still pushing.”

“-Just give me a minute,” Orlov replied, switching from Merilian to Belystrowian (something he had a tad more familiarity with), which seemed to elicit approval from the frantic local, who was muttering something in a rather stammered matter. The corporal, though, impatient, gave a sign to Tom to cover him as he peaked out of the door.

It was at that moment that a panicked “GET DOWN!” came from Orlov, who, with a lightning-quick reaction, pushed the corporal away from the door frame. James’ only glimpse of the outside was the fishery, where, he saw, a pile of sandbags behind a window with a barrel sticking out. Said barrel was now spewing lead at where his head would’ve been had he not been knocked to the floor, bullets striking the tavern’s roof or going through the back end. PFC Tomik immediately flicked his M3 to the left and let off a full-auto volley, spraying desperately at the enemy position while struggling to keep his recoil down. The gun went silent for a second, then two, giving a dazed Sturrock time to get up on his feet and toss a frag he’d pulled from his belt into the fortified position. “Get some, you f@ckers!”

The explosive detonated right in the middle of the fishery. It must’ve blown up an ammo belt because the next thing he saw was the iconic sound of secondary detonations, complete with what looked like a small fireworks show occurring in the middle of the building. The corporal then turned to his specialist, giving an approving glance. “You developed some sixth sense against bullets or what?”

“No - the barman told me there were hostiles over the road. The building across was the enemy’s precinct in this sector. We probably just killed their commander right now.”

“Huh. I’ll be damned. Gotta call this in to sarge…” the man said, still rather startled by the incident, albeit quickly regaining his bearings.

But before he could touch his radio, he received a transmission: “Parris here, Sturrock, what the hell happened? Status report? Over.”

“Sturrock reporting, me and my team have just neutralized a hostile MG nest. Reportedly the enemy HQ here, over.”

“Good work. We’ll finish our sweep and join up with you, investigate that HQ, and see if there is anything intact you can find, over.”

“Copy all. Out.”

Tomik, not having moved an inch from his position in the window, was visibly shaken, breathing heavily from the jolt of adrenaline he’d gone through. “Sh!t… f@ck, James! I just wasted him… and he was about to waste you… Phew… F@ck… Thank God you’re alright.”

“Well, I guess we have Orlov as a replacement for God in this case.”

“That’s sacrilegious,” the specialist responded in a harsh tone - a Jahovist cross dangling from his neck.

“On the Sun, learn how to take a joke, my guy…”

Advancing for real this time, the fireteam carefully crossed the road and prepared to enter the fishery. Smoke poured out from the fortified window, probably remnants of the fire that was started earlier. Stacked up once more, the corporal prepared to breach, when suddenly, the door was opened by an unarmed figure.

“FREEZE!” yelled the Solarians in near-harmony, their guns pointed squarely at the suspect, a twenty-something-year-old individual who had a hand raised in surrender. He coughed something out in Merilian. His body was visibly wounded, with shrapnel marks all over his arms and chest.

“Corporal, he says he’s laid down his weapon and needs immediate medical attention,” Orlov explained, translating the surrenderee’s words. “Also says that the only people in that building were the Cadetist advisor to this village and his cartel friend. Both are dead now.”

Sturrock grimaced at the news but remained in his war mindset. “Roger… get him an IFAK and stem that bleeding. Check him for any remaining weapons and flexicuff him to a tree or something so he doesn’t escape. I’m gonna push past and check the remains.”

He stepped forward, but not before the POW started gasping and crying as Orlov cuffed and spoke to him. “He’s scared that if we leave him out in public the civilians here will try to hang him. How do we proceed?”

“The rest of our platoon will be here soon, there’s no shot that he gets killed on their watch. Just go ahead with the first aid.” Taking a closer look at the fishery, it seems to have been converted into a small depot for the occupiers of the village. Rations, munitions, spare weapons, tools… the explosion fried a lot of them, it looked like. The sandbag position, which had been at the center of the fight, was also damaged. Leaned against it was the corpse of the last Cadetist soldier, who, from a cursory look, he could tell was some type of NCO, or maybe a low-ranking officer. The other corpse was just an ordinary gunman, dressed in khaki camo pants and a green T-shirt. He’d been hit straight through his head by a piece of metal, and that was enough to consign him to history.

“Poor SOB…” he muttered to the dead, before stepping back out.

His team remained glued to one of the fishery’s walls while the sergeant’s squad finished their sweep, now having reached the other end of the village. Given the fighting that had gone on for the past minutes, a few curious souls peered outside of their homes, but none were brave enough to go up the troops themselves, understandably so.

“Alright, team,” Parris called out as he arrived in the town center, “start digging in. We’ll wait for the rest of Alpha 2 here and then get new orders from the L-T. Understood? Good.”

…

About twenty minutes later, the other three columns of Solarian troops arrived to reinforce the defenses around Breslack. The decision was made to fortify both the road leading up to the village itself as well as the hill that Sturrock had previously used as high ground. A crude trench line was established, while a dug-out for the unit’s GMG vehicle to rest in was established. Few of these really mattered though - what was most valuable to the unit was their limited stock of anti-tank missiles, which they wisely chose to camouflage in the rear of the village, lest they be blown up in a mortar strike, as well as the air-ground tactical radios and designators used to call in air support, which every squad leader had. Near-total air dominance had been achieved, so by now, the sound of fighter jets hovering above became familiar to the platoon.

Alpha 2-3, meanwhile, was given a few minutes of R&R before the commander approached them to assign them another mission. “You’ve done some fine work, gentlemen, but this night’s far from over. We received reports of sporadic gunfire from a secondary objective between this sector and A-4, and footage from one of our deployed drones suggests there’s a firefight ongoing there. The thing is, we don’t have any forces allotted to that area, so we are unsure what exactly is going on. Could be a case of militia resistance, or perhaps Cadetist repression. Either way, we need you to head over there and check it out A-S-A-P. Target is one and a half klicks away, so you best start legging it.”

“No vehicle support?” inquired Parris.

“Negative, Sergeant. There are still reports of hostile armor lurking around on the main highway, so until our close air support gives us the all-clear, we’re minimizing our footprint as much as we can. If you encounter opposition you can’t handle, just call in our fighters. Any questions?” The sergeant shook his head. “Good. Then get to it.”

And so, 2-3 set off on their second trip of the day, determined to figure out the cause of the mysterious fighting in their vicinity. Maintaining their previous element, they advanced up to Point Hitchcock - a callsign for the strategically unimportant town of Hartzell, which, although slightly bigger than Breslack, did not have an identified enemy garrison, and was positioned in a mostly open field rather than next to any points of interest.

Now on the move, Sturrock witnessed the landscape shift before his eyes, the mostly flat and empty terrain becoming more and more populated with vegetation and trees rather than simple tree stumps and markers of human work. They weren’t going through a full-fledged forest, that title, in his mind, was reserved for the grand woods of Prospero Falls or Harth’s Rest, but it provided some much-needed cover for the team, with his two squadmates visibly more relaxed now that they were under nature’s protective shield.

Just as the squad prepared to push out of the treeline to continue their journey, the sergeant gave an alert “Halt!” and the entire formation froze. “I hear vehicle movement. Possible alpha victors. Let me get eyes on.”

Parris emitted a guttural grunt as he looked into the distance with his laser designators. “Damn. That’s a full convoy. One IFV, one truck, and two technicals. Miles, get me the tactical radio.” Adjusting in place, he extended the antenna on the walkie-talkie, ensuring it had the proper signal strength to contact its allies. “This is Alpha 2-3 to any flights over Sector A, in contact with enemy alpha victors, formation of four, two and a half klicks south of A-4, requesting air support at this time. How copy? Over.”

<< This is Dagger 4, flight of one F-61, currently loitering above Sector A at 6,000 meters. I have four Jester missiles, two JDAMs, 800 rounds for this section. Time on station 0+20. Ready for tasking. >>

“Roger… Stand by for target report.” Unfolding a map full of military jargon and codenames, he read out loud to the radio: “Push to IP Buckshot. Target heading 0-1-5, magnetic. Distance: two point five klicks. GRIDREF: 078-095. Target is one enemy VZ-80, military truck and two technicals. Friendlies five hundred meters south in a tree line. Danger close. How copy? Over.”

<< Dagger 4 copies all. Pushing to IP Buckshot. TOT is 20 seconds. >>

The increasingly noisy hum of a jet became apparent to both the Solarians and the Cadetists, who seemed to be attempting to speed up. Parris simply kept tracking them with his designator, then with the press of a button enabled the targeting option on it. “Laser armed. Call contact, over.”

<< Dagger 4 has contact. Moving in, weapons hot. >> The increasing noise prompted one of the armed pick-ups to open fire with an AA gun, firing wildly in the sky in the hopes of scratching their attacker. << Dagger 4, bombs away. >> A few seconds later, two metallic, circular objects zoomed straight into the convoy, with a pair of powerful blasts engulfing it in flames. The formation was dead in its tracks; the trucks, in particular, were so deformed, they were barely recognizable as vehicles, with ammunition explosions still raging hard. << Dagger 4 egressing direct east. Standing by for BDA. >>

Parris looked in awe at the sight and was almost a bit giddy at his handiwork. It’s not every day you get to witness a real bombing run, much less call one in yourself. “This is Alpha 2-3, BDA is 100 over 100. All enemy units destroyed! Good shooting, Dagger. 2-3 out.”

The row of smoking wrecks was a testament to the effects that Solarian aircraft had on this operation. They weren’t just playing a support role - they were the ones actively making it possible. Besides their physical effect, they were also a major morale booster to the ground forces, especially to veterans of the Osakan or Flettish conflicts - who knew just how much the protection of air cover mattered - as well as how hellish it was to fight with contested airspace above your head. The shattered skies of Fusea were no more, they were now in the Alliance’s backyard, and the only jets flying in this area were ones bearing the symbol of the Golden Sun. Sturrock counted his blessings, although he also seemed a bit horrified by the prospect of being in the enemy’s place. He hoped this would be the only tour of duty he’d serve in his career so that he wouldn’t have to fight in less fortunate conditions.

As he felt his mind floating elsewhere, a sudden, powerful ringing awoke the corporal to the reality of the battlefield once more. “The f@ck is that?” he asked himself. It sounded like… “Church bells? In the dead of night?” As he spoke, the ringing seemed to intensify and multiply, as if coming from multiple directions at once.

“Could it be a signal?” Tomik asked the others on the team.

“It’s probably a tocsin,” Orlov stated, breaking his usual silence.

“Say what now?” Sturrock followed up, confused by the archaic term.

The specialist sighed, and explained, mockingly slowly: “A tocsin. It’s a type of warning message, usually involving a bell. If I had to guess, someone is using them to alert all of the settlements in the area about an attack. Whose attack, I don’t know. Could be MPF calling other sectors since we cut off their communications, or resistance forces signaling a Cadetist counter-attack.”

“Honestly, this reminds me of a death knell more than anything else…” the corporal said, suddenly getting a bad feeling in his stomach.

“I’ve contacted the L-T, he’s retasking the platoon recon drone to assist us,” interjected the sergeant. “It’ll be over us in two mikes. Until then, we keep advancing. Can’t risk getting shot up in the open.”

As 2-3 neared the gates of Hartzell, they felt a very faint buzz going above their heads. To others, it might’ve sounded like an oversized fly or maybe a wasp passing their ears, but the unit was familiar enough with the noise to recognize it was one of the quadrotor drones commonly employed as spotters. “There we go. Alpha 2-3 to Actual, anything of note up ahead? Over. … Copy, Sir. Proceeding as planned. Out.” Parris then turned to his men. “Heads-up, drone’s spotted a pile of burning vehicles up ahead.”

“... This is weird,” Tomik voiced his increasing concern. At just fifty meters from the town, the squad heard a burst of gunshots, followed shortly by another. “Crap! You guys recognize that, right?”

“That’s the sound our M3s make,” the sergeant nodded. “But Actual already said there are none of our forces here. Plus, those gunshots are unsuppressed. We’ll just have to see for ourselves. Sturrock, cover the right side of the main road, I’ll take the left one.”

As they moved into the objective, the Solarians couldn’t help but notice that, unlike at Breslack, many people had exited their homes and were wandering the streets, despite the threat of bombing or gunfire. Most seemed to be going toward one direction, in particular, the one from which the church bells were ringing. Many were surprised by the appearance of the troopers, but a few others paid no mind to them, as if they had somehow foreseen this, or as if this was normal to them. “Keep your eyes on the flanks, watch the civvies. Don’t let them pull a stunt on you…”

“Boss, look ahead! What’s that?!” PFC Larue called out.

Having reached the town square - a quaint little place, albeit lacking in decoration, the soldiers saw residents gathered up in front of what looked like the town hall - a building slightly older than the rest, above which flew the flag of the Purples. A teenage boy seemed to have climbed on the rooftop and was in the process of cutting it out, although he had no replacement in hand. Meanwhile, at ground level, on the stairs of the hall, what looked like a pair of armed citizens with haphazard uniforms - a few armor plates from the East Osean Crisis, what looked like a modern battle helmet, and a wide assortment of rifles, from bolt-actions to the M3 Maverick that had been heard earlier. A couple of others lay facing the wall, frozen in place. Three people, who looked like they had also been lined up, looked like they had collapsed on the stairs.

“Hey, hey! Clear out! Make some space!” Orlov ordered in both Intermerilian and Belystrowian, ensuring that he was understood by all. The servicemen, with some difficulty, eventually broke through the crowd and were met with happiness by the militia.

“Ah! Solarian warriors! You have come!” exclaimed a man who looked to be the leader of the group, in his 50s, bearing a blue armband and green armor vest over his flannel shirt while sporting an M1 Falcon. “We are glad to have you in our little commune! After all, it is you who helped us bring liberty back to these people!”

But the sergeant seemed less interested in flattering the man back, instead looking past him and at the collapsed men - who, he now realized, were corpses. They were wearing the grey-purple that was typical of Cadetist officers, and the one in front of the pile seemed to have two silver stars on his insignia. “What the hell is this?” Parris barked at the militiaman, in an angry Strangereal Common.

“This? This is the captain of those who oppressed this city. Well, was. They tried passing through here with their soldiers to escape your bombs, but that was a mistake.” The leader pointed at the burning trucks, which had the insignia of the Zapmilkom etched into them. “Now, we have rounded up the criminal dogs and given them what they deserve.”

“... They’re executing prisoners of war?!” Sturrock yelled out in dismay, then suddenly lunged at the militia leader, much to the shock of everyone present. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Hey, hey! You have not lived here with us to get to know these people! They are vermin in every sense of the word! They steal, they abuse, they torture and they kill people!” he responded, in an attempt to reason.

“He was already in handcuffs, you piece of s#it! He couldn’t harm anyone anymore!”

“But he had to be served what he deserved! This is the only way we can do ourselves justice against these despots. Look! The crowd, does it not agree?” The militiaman called out to the crowd, and, as Sturrock turned to face them as well, he could hear the approving inflection in their voices, speaking in unison.

“Grr… That doesn’t mean anything, you bastard! War has a set of rules to follow! And what about those guys?!” the corporal motioned to the others who were still lined up while keeping a tight grip on the leader’s neck.

“Sturrock, stand down, dammit!” the sergeant ordered while pulling out his handheld radio. “I’m calling this in with command, but give me - and him - some bloody space.” Reluctantly, James let the militiaman go, taking a step away from him but maintaining an angry glance.

“Thank you, mister sergeant… Now… you asked me about the others, yes? They are the ones who help the Purples maintain their iron grip. Administrators of the occupation, informants, and priests of their Orthodox Ekklesia, which kill our traditions and language. Plus their enforcer brutes and terrorists. Do they not deserve to be punished as well? They must rot in the graves and jail cells they prepared for themselves. I am not saying to kill them all, but they must at least be locked away.”

“Sarge, we’ve got to take charge of the prisoners here,” Sturrock said with a concerned voice. “If we let them under their care for another night, I don’t know how many of them will make it.”

“I must agree with my team leader,” Orlov added, “given the fact that these people, even if their anger is… justified, clearly do not regard the lives of prisoners highly. Such brutality is not befitting of an otherwise noble cause.” PFCs Miles and Larue, although silent, nodded their heads in agreement

“Give me a moment!” Parris yelled angrily. “... Please confirm, Actual, over. … Copy, Sir. Out.” The Cetite man, taking off his NVGs and rubbing his forehead for a moment, then turned to his men. “Command has ordered us to entrust the safety of the POWs to the local resistance forces. Says they can’t task any transports to us at this time and that we need to get back to our sector if we’ve confirmed there are no OpFor here.”

“That’s outrageous!” Sturrock shrieked.

“It’s our orders, Corporal! I can’t do anything about it, even if I wish I could.”

James turned to face the partisans once more. He felt inclined to spit in their faces but knew damn well that he’d get an NJP on his ass afterward, so all he could do was just watch with contempt. “Corporal, is it, yes? You must understand something. We appreciate your support, but you are foreigners to this land. You don’t know of the death and blood in this soil. What we have suffered. While you are all still young, innocent souls, only in your first battles, some of us have been fighting for well over a decade. Think of how many died in that time. Those were our friends, our family - our comrades. Retribution, now, is our only recourse. The Purple Plague will know its end, and our homeland will be free. Only then can we have peace.”

Sturrock tried thinking up a reply, but felt a pat on his shoulder, coming from his specialist. “Our experiences are too different. There’s no point trying to argue this. Let’s get going.” James heeded the call, but as he left Hertzell, he gave a cold, conflicted glance to it, while the sergeant called out for a last time:

“Actual, Alpha 2-3 is Oscar Mike…”

…

-- JOURNAL LOG NO. 1 --

James here. It’s currently way past midnight, and most of my squad’s asleep, but I can’t close my eyes for s#!t, so, I might as well note this for back home. We’re in this dinky-ass village called Breslack, sleeping in one of the storage places the locals agreed to give up to us for this op.

Today’s been f@cked up, if I’ll be honest. I smoked my first tango, I came toe-to-toe with death, and I witnessed a firing line… I think those three are the ones keeping me up. I dunno about the others, but I can’t get the image of those smugglers and that damned Purple officer out of my head… There’s something about seeing someone freshly dead. Their muscles, I think, they’re still there. You can still read the horror on their faces, plus the gore of it all. I’d like to comfort myself with the idea that the guy I killed with my frag wouldn’t have surrendered, but with how beat-up his friend looked, I’m just not really sure.

Oh, yeah, about him: he had cause to be concerned. While we were gone, two guys from A Company had to fend off some of the locals here, who wanted to beat him to death. Think about it: an eighteen-year-old, probably coming from the potato fields or something, barely knows how to fire a gun, gets put up against the Alliance’s finest, sees his friend die, and then gets threatened with being hanged the same night. That’s just completely messed up, man.

And the Cadetist captain. I don’t think I’m getting his expression out of my memory for at least the next couple of days, and I had to stop a second on the way back for poor Tomik, who looked like he was about to throw up. Don’t get me wrong, the Purples are bastards and I wish for nothing more than their complete destruction, but… How can you shoot a guy who’s tied down and pleading for mercy? What do you have to go through to make you capable of doing that? Is that what ten years plus of war does to you, as that guerilla said?

I dunno. I guess I’ll have to ask the Flettish veterans in the brigade, once the rest of our element lands. MP detachment wasn’t in the first flights over, so I’m guessing it’ll be at least three days until they land with the armored landing element. Who knows what other crazy stuff those partisans will do in the meantime? General MacKinnon promised this war’ll be quick and clean - I dunno about quick, but it’s definitely not gonna be clean, I’ll tell you that much.

*sigh* … At least we’re doing well militarily. We already have most of sectors A, C, and D under our control. As the company commander tells me, there’s still a battle over in B-5 for the main village leading up to Hoffgrad. And in sector E, we only have a few platoons of troops, but there’s a sh!tton of well-armed insurgents doing their own thing there. How, you might ask? JSF involvement. Yeah, the spooks are also in this party, and they were the ones who furnished arms and supplies to the partisans. It’s also how the Hertzell militia had Mavericks on their hands. I wonder if they knew that POWs would get shot during the uprisings. Hell, I wonder if they even cared.

Marines made a successful beachhead at the city docks, last I heard. Been a bit since we checked in, though - they must be hard at work. If everything went well, by now, they should have the southern quarter of the city under control. I'm praying they do, because if they don't, or worse, they get pushed out - we're toast. I think the latter’s pretty unlikely, though.

I'm gonna try to get some rest again now. At least I feel a bit more sleepy after this. Note to future self If/when I'm reading this: do NOT re-enlist! Don't be stupid like me, future James.

…

Across the many homes and workplaces of the Solarian Alliance, the classic jingly tune of the public broadcast service, the SBS, played for the midnight news report. It wasn’t something that many people would usually tune into, given the late hour, but today’s flash invasion made even the most distraught worker bat an eye to their TV.

“Good evening, Solaria,” intoned a male news anchor with a firm voice, well-known by the public as a veteran of the industry. “The time is 11:59 PM. We are currently interrupting our regular news bulletin to announce that the Solarian Armed Forces have proclaimed that a << major military operation >> is to take place within the next couple of minutes on the territory of the Merilian Plains. This comes after weeks of escalation and continued air strikes against Cadetist forces stationed in regions next to the Saldanha Bay. We are currently connecting live with our war correspondent, Alex Emerson, who is aboard the carrier Sonia Timko, currently the flagship of the blockade fleet. Emerson? Do you hear us?”

Over on the other side of the wire, a stable camera feed was established, allowing the world to see senior reporter Emerson, with ten years of covering various battlefields throughout the world, as he stood on the deck of the aforementioned aircraft carrier. Deck crews in colored vests waved signals to other staff while the roar of a jet engine took up much of the sound background.

“Good evening, Wexler! This is Emerson, transmitting live for SBS News!” the journalist yelled in hopes of making himself heard. “I’m here at the blockade line, and as you can see, people are getting geared up for war! We’ve just had eight flights take off one after another and there’s even more coming! Missile fire has been on and off for half an hour now, and up in the sky-” he motioned to the cameraman to switch angles, giving a shot of the stars- “there’s dozens more aircraft, seemingly coming from the mainland! What you’re seeing right now is only a fraction of what’s already passed the fleet!”

The news anchor in the studio nodded with a stern gaze at what had been said so far. “Understood, Emerson. From what you’ve shown us, this seems to be something resembling a full-blown war, given the size and scale of the preparations here. Do you have any more information that you can share with us and the viewers at this time?”

“Right now, a lot is happening that I don’t have clearance to find out about, but what I can tell you is that I’m going to be embedded with a marine battalion, destination Hoffgrad. I’ll be filming scenes throughout the night and sending them home once I have the all-clear from the chain of command. That’s all for now. Back to you in the studio, Wex.”

The camera feed ended, leaving only the anchor on-screen. “Thank you, Alex… We’ll be switching over to our war room, providing live analysis and commentary on the ongoing fighting in Merilia. Over to Martha Drewes and Robert Baker.”

…

The clock was now 12:45 AM. Emerson found himself carefully crouched by a pallet of oil barrels, his camera crew not far behind, also in cover. Mortars and small arms ringed incessantly at not too far a distance, an essential part of the ever-marching orchestra of war. The V-22 military tiltrotor that had brought him and a platoon of soldiers here as part of the second landing wave departed with much haste, popping chaff and flares to cover its retreat. It did a fly-by of the friendly fleet that had been stationed on the Reiker River, a handful of frigates, corvettes, and outriders with numerous patrol boats as support. They were firing off waves of shells at numerous targets throughout the city, striking in sync with Navy attack planes overhead. The landing was completed by its main cast of LCACs, offloading troops, vehicles, and supplies - although with how many ships there were in the tight river, it became increasingly difficult for them to maneuver, to the point of delays in the operation.

It was these delays that left a lone marine ahead of most of his platoon, which was just now disembarking. He sat down by a cargo container, face-to-face with Emerson, giving him a grin and an interested glance. “Yo, journo! You filmin’ for the boys and girls back home?”

Alex gave a thumbs-up to him. “I’m a war correspondent with SBS News, Channel 1. Taking interviews with anyone interested and filming the battle. Want to appear on the big screen?”

“Hell yeah! I always wanted to get being on TV off the bucket list,” the marine exclaimed, with unusual cheeriness for the war setting.

“Alright. Mark, get me a good angle. We’re starting,” the reporter replied. “So, marine, basics first. Tell us your name and a bit about yourself.”

“My name’s Velek Kovacs, Private First Class, 1st Marines, 6th Inf. Regiment, 2nd Battalion, A Company! Been on the force for one and a half years! This is my first combat deployment! My mom’s b!tch and my dad’s a junkie! And I’m here to have the time of my life!”

“Kovacs, uh…” Emerson stammered for a second as he tried to find a way to work off what he’d said. “Could you explain to us why you signed up for the Armed Forces? I imagine it’s got something to do with your family situation?”

“You can bet it does! I come out from Strava - y’know where that is, right?” the journalist nodded, prompting the soldier to continue: “Place is and was mostly a mining town, but with coal going out of business we went out of business, too. Dad lost his job and started drinking all day, then got hooked on whatever they cook across the border and started losing his mind. My mother had to go do sex work to keep us fed. I barely passed high school, so there was no way I was getting into college. Decided to go bash skulls in foreign countries instead. Pretty nice, ay?”

“I’m not here to judge your life choices or those of others,” Alex responded, trying to stay impartial, which elicited a chuckle from Velek. “You do seem pretty happy for going into a warzone, though. What gives?”

“Well! I might look excited, but that’s because I’m actually s#!tt!ng bricks!” he explained, his tone mixing nervousness with amusement. “Lemme tell you- two hours before this, I was playing beer pong in the ship quarters, man. We all knew we were getting sent here, but we tried to stretch out our time on deck as long as possible. When you leave that big metal tin and go outside to hear the enemy’s greetings, it feels like you’re walking into your own death. Hell, the company CO told us to take extra time if we wanted to and let us hang around in the mess hall while the others were cleaning their rifles. Captain Rudiger’s a legend! Say hi to them from me if you see ‘em!”

“I’ll make sure to do so. What do you plan to do after this operation is over?”

“Hm… I haven’t thought that far out!” Kovacs exclaimed in another fit of nervous laughter. “Nah, but, for real? Right now, all I can think about is getting my sorry ass alive out of this mess. If we win this battle and my head’s still glued to my shoulders, I can do whatever afterward. I’ll probably try to find a job somewhere. Police sounds nice, also probably the only ones who’d accept a CV like mine and who’d fit my standards. I’m not signing up to flip burgers in a McRonald for the rest of my life, that’s for sure. Or maybe I’ll stick around here a bit more, get a better MOS, maybe they’ll teach me how to be a proper engi. God knows I’d love to repairman all day.”

As Alex was about to shoot his next question, he felt the ground shake, the powerful tank threads of an M1 tearing up the asphalt of the port. Saddled on its back was a squad of marines, one of which called out to Kovacs: “Private! There you are! C’mon, we don’t have time to sit around all day! Charlie’s already moved out! We’re Oscar Mike!”

“Ah, crap. That’s my ride, bossman!” the PFC shouted as he hopped onto the tank as well, helped by his comrades. Turning around to face the camera one more time, he yelled out over the loud motor: “Hey! Mom, if you’re seeing this - hi!” and then, more faintly, as they left in the distance: “And f@ck you, dad!” Eventually, the M1 disappeared at one of the port’s intersections, off to fight in some quarter of the city.

“... That was certainly one of the interviews of my career,” Emerson said to his crew, scratching his helmet. “Good kid, though. I hope he’ll make it out fine from this.”

“We should probably get to the command tent for our check-in,” Mark suggested. “Major might want to see us and assign us to a group as well.” Alex nodded in agreement, so they set off to the officers’ area, nestled in a few hardened buildings along the shoreline. After a short hassle with a hurried supply technician and waiting in line, they were hastily welcomed in, whereupon some junior officer looked through their case. “Uhh… SBS News, right? Mister Emerson? Hey - I loved your Wardish peacekeeper reporting! Good to have some patriots doing us justice on the other side of the world. Alright, uh… you have… Marine Recon, D Company, 1st Platoon, 3rd Squad. Ooh, these guys are good. You’ll see the best of the best out there.”

Joining their assigned unit at one of the many assembly points throughout the harbor (mostly reconverted loading areas), Alex met their “tour guide” for the day, Staff Sergeant Mick Barton, a hawkish veteran whose face had the classic traits of a chain smoker. Despite this somewhat unfriendly portrait, he greeted the journalists professionally, welcoming them into the cramped back of his M3 Catlett CFV, an aging but well-respected vehicle in the SAF. “It may not look like much, but she’s gotten us through hell and high water - literally!” its driver exclaimed.

“So, Staff Sergeant, could you say for the camera where exactly are we headed out today?” Emerson inquired.

“Our objective-” Barton began, pointing to a map pinned in the crew compartment, “-is to secure this intersection, three klicks north-east of the port’s main entrance, which will act as our MSR- that’s main supply route for the audience back home- for when we launch our incursion into the main residential area of the city. Ammo and spare parts run out fast in urban fighting, so if we can’t replenish our stocks mid-battle as the MPF can, we’re FUBAR. I’d translate that too, but, ahem, it’s not child-friendly.”

“I don’t think any of this reporting is child-friendly,” Alex stated rather bluntly. “But, besides that… I’ve been told that this unit has some of the best fighters in the Marine Corps. How long have you all been serving and where’d you start?”

“Well, first of all, thank that anonymous little angel that’s been heaping praise on us on my behalf, but, second, I got… six years of experience. All Marine, two in Infantry, four in Recon. My first tour of duty was in Sjerdaal, so I imagine you know what that means. My men have similar backgrounds - about three to four years each.”

The cameraman and reporter turned to the other marines in the squad, asking: “Why’d you all join the force?”

One raised his hand and then spoke: “Family tradition, Sir. My dad and pa had been shooting guns before they learned to walk. I ought to continue the trade.”

Another followed up in short order: “To serve my country! We’re the last bastion of democracy on this Godforsaken planet, so we’ve got to act - act well, and fast.”

A third also responded: “Getting to be a leader. I’m out here on the field, doing something concrete, pushing the envelope. Like my buddy Dudley over here said, we have to act - and I’m ready to take the reins one day. No college dropouts here, Siree.”

“I’m glad I already have a successor,” the staff sergeant said with a smirk, before suddenly becoming serious: “Watch out, we’re two hundred meters from the AO. Get set to engage, team.” A small group of seemingly distraught civilians - probably workers returning late from their shift - stood and watched the Solarian vehicle pass by before scurrying off. At the time, the driver and gunner thought nothing of it.

The Catlett rolled up to the crossroads surrounded by factory complexes and then smashed through a chainlink fence, parking itself next to an abandoned warehouse. “Alright, everyone, dismount! Get moving into that building!” The soldiers lined up against the windows of the storage depot, trying to secure positions on the upper floors. “We’re going to try using this high ground to lay fire on any enemy forces scrambling from the city garrisons,” the staff sergeant explained. “We’ve got special kits that help hide our muzzle flashes, so the Cadetists won’t be able to see where we’re shooting from.”

“I presume they don’t have night vision optics like you do?” the journalist remarked.

“Correct. Otherwise, it’d be a fair fight.”

“Then why don’t they turn on the power on the street lights? The whole city is out dark.”

“Well, first, that’d make it much easier for our aircraft to bomb targets inside the city itself without direct guidance, which is why the grid’s been shut down regularly during the evenings, but even if they did want to, the power station should theoretically have been seized by the resistance cells we’ve been in contact with. Again - theoretically. It’s rebel forces, we can’t expect full reliability.”

Barton reached for his radio, receiving and then transmitting some messages. “The rest of our platoon’s also taking up posts along this route, but ISR- I mean… drones have sighted some motorized columns headed towards us. They probably don’t know we’re here yet.” In an act of cosmic irony, just a few seconds after he finished talking, the man was nearly shaken off his feet by a powerful explosion hitting the ground not far from where they were stationed. “S#!t, what the hell?” he cried out. “Indirect fire! Keep your wits about you! Civvie, get your head somewhere safe!”

“Hostiles incoming, left flank! 2-8-0, from the gatehouse!” called out one of the marines. “We clear to engage?!”

“Yeah! Get a target and open fire!” the staff sarge replied, his morale not breaking even as enemy fire kept pounding the area, instead seemingly determined to keep fighting. “Good thing their fire support is piss poor! They probably haven’t zeroed us yet!”

Shots rang out as both sides tried to nail each other, the less numerous Solarians taking their toll on the brave but technologically inferior opponent, whose options were to seek cover or to get out in the open and hope to find where they were being engaged from, risking their lives in the process. As the battle heated up, Emerson could hear the squad’s Catlett warming up and pushing past the warehouses, its 25mm chaingun tearing through the walls and containers the Purples were using as impromptu defenses. Now in tatters, the opposing platoon retreated, leaving behind about a dozen dead bodies and a half-ruined intersection, cratered by constant mortar fire.

“Delta 1-3 to all other Delta 1 elements. Enemy fire has subsided on our end, SITREP? Over.”

“Delta 1-2, we’re maintaining the southern perimeter. Visibility here is pretty low. 1-3, can you get on a rooftop and check our flanks? Our Catlett gunner reported seeing contacts on thermals. Over.”

“1-3 copies, proceeding. Out.” The team proceeded to mount the building, keeping themselves crouched as they did so, to avoid being the first victims of the Hoffgrad invasion. It wouldn’t take long until someone got unlucky, however, was the thought that everyone had in the back of their heads.

Once on the roof, the night sky was much more visible, as were the several elements polluting it: yellow-red tracers from small arms fire ricocheting into the air, Solarian drones, ranging from the very small, near-un-spottable to the heavy search and destroy units, packing Hellhound missiles tasked with destroying any remaining troop concentrations. Farther above, some aircraft broke through the light cloud cover on that day and delivered various payloads, mostly guided bombs hitting the already-pummelled military base and airfield.

“I don’t see anything out here… But keep a tight lookout,” Barton called, scanning the horizon through his binoculars. The heavy noises of tilt rotors, identical to the one that carried Alex over to the port, soon became heard by all of the soldiers. “There they are - the air assault unit. Took them a while to get here.”

The SBS crew was getting zoomed-in shots of the aerial convoy as it headed over to the airport when all of a sudden the sound of a heavy gun battery erupted through the cacophony of other noises. Large bullets flew toward the fleet of V-22s, causing the formation to scatter and lower their altitude, but not before one of them was hit, causing the damaged aircraft to visibly trail smoke, and then catch fire. The radio net, up until now relatively discreet, became full of desperate traffic: “We have a Kestrel hit! I repeat, a Kestrel’s been hit!” The pilot on the stricken V-22 pitched in over the general comms, saying, with an uncanny calmness: “This is Misfit 6-1, we’ve been hit. We’re on fire. I’m attempting to stabilize.” As it hovered above the city’s industrial park, something - a rocket or perhaps a missile - rammed into its right side, making it lose any semblance of control and enter into a spin. “Mayday- mayday! Misfit 6-1 is hit and going down! Dammit!” alarms and voice warnings could be heard in the background. “Goodbye, sweet Marie-” was the last message heard from the cockpit before the Kestrel smashed into the ground, head-on.

Barton looked on stunned for a moment, then quickly came to his senses. “Those birds had our Raiders on them - someone has to go after them!” The others in the squad agreed all at once.

“Break, break- this is Magister Actual to all Delta elements,” came through the voice of a man whom everyone recognized as the colonel in charge of this operation. “We have a downed airman at GRIDREF 105-095, three klicks west of your position. You are the closest element we’ve got to the area. Are you able to re-route to that point? Over.”

“Delta 1-1 here, our status is green, ready to divert at your call Magister, over.”

“Roger. I’m pushing another unit into your sector to take over your position, you’re cleared to pack up and head to the crash site A-S-A-P. We can NOT afford any unnecessary casualties. Fire support and smoke screen will be available on call. Sun’s speed, troopers. Out.”

“Your lucky day, Staff Sergeant. Seems we’ll be the ones going after them,” observed Emerson.

“We will be going after them - without you,” he ordered decisively “I can’t risk having an attache get shot up out there with us in the frying pan. I’m passing you to 1-5, our support squad. They’ll hang back and you can film the battle from safety.”

“What?! But-” Alex tried to object, but he was hit by a prompt “no buts!”, which forced him to shut up and join up with the other element - a group of similarly professional marines, lesser in number, but more specialized. One polished his marksman rifle while another reloaded a machine gun, the other two in the group checking what looked to be communications equipment to make sure it was still functional. “Welcome to the Dream Team, Sir,” called out the one that was inspecting the radios, “I’ll be your assistant, Corporal Mitch Hutchkins, at your service.”