2080 Story thread

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Kasey on 2008-03-01, 08:08

8th May 2008, San Fransisco

The men in suits sat round the long oval-shaped conference table. Sat in the middle was Secretary General Sykes; around him were his chief advisors and generals. At that precise point in time they were all staring avidly at the video link in the middle of the table, in the link was 4-Star UNCPWP General, Elliot Cayman. The aged General was commander of the UN forces in the eastern seaboard of the old USA. It was reckoned an easy posting, and was often referred to as the “Retirement Home”, however now the retirement home was suddenly active again. For the new leader of the EU was showing quite a lot of interest in Quebec, and Quebec was UN territory, it wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all, thought Sykes.

The General finished his report, and awaited Sykes’ interrogation.

“There are no EU troops in Quebec yet?”

“Not that we are aware of sir, but they may move men over there soon enough”

Cayman’s voice was crackly and distorted, the Satellites still didn’t function as they should.

Sykes frowned, “It seems to me, General, that we should…dissuade, the EU from getting to close to Quebec. They must be reminded that North America is OUR territory.” He paused, “Does Colonel Thornton still command the 21st Mechanized?” Cayman nodded, “Order him to advance to the southern border of Quebec, and barrack his men there. The meaning should be apparent enough. You are dismissed, General.”

Cayman saluted, then the link cut out.


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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-03-01, 13:12

10 May 2080

Euronews – Conference in Malta.

“Good evening. I am Nicholas Hague”
“And I am Anna Siedliska”
“The conference in Malta between leaders of the European Union and of the Azharid Khalifat was, in the words of foreign minister Agostinho, ‘a great diplomatic success’. President Langevin and Khalif Nasir al-Dawla negotiated a non-aggression pact and also agreed to a strengthening of bilateral relations in such areas as economics, and culture. The khalif, according to our sources, was especially concerned with the state of Muslim citizens of the European Union, while president Langevin negotiated the opening of Arab markets to European companies and discussed the apparent remilitarization of Turkey.”
“The conference was also attended by ministers and officials from both the Union and the Caliphate, while the most surprising attendee was Boris Rodchenko, the new president of the Russian Federation. His government currently resides in London and is the only Russian governing body officially recognized by the European Union.”
“Now let’s go live to Malta, where president Langevin is about to make his speech on the conclusion of the conference.”


“This summit, this conference between the leaders of the European Union and the Azharid Khalifat, marks a historic point in the relationship of our two great unions of nations. Being on this sunny island, in the middle of the glowing blue Mediterranean Sea, it is easy to forget the darkness that looms over much of the rest of the world. It is easy to forget the sins of our fathers and the failure of the best efforts of good men to keep their world on track. For, although borne out of the best intentions, they were insufficient to face the unthinkable perils of their times without making sacrifices along the way. And the legacy of those sacrifices haunts us to this very day. It was those sacrifices that led to the neglect of Russia when the darkness of Murmansk Sunset swept across it; it was those sacrifices that led to the abandonment of the Americas at the time of their greatest economic need, and to the fragmentation of our once great ally, the United States of America; it was those sacrifices that led to the European Union pulling out of the United Nations and to the rise of tribalism in Africa and poverty across the world; it was those sacrifices that led to a policy of suspicion and even at times hostility against the rise of the Azharid Khalifat. At every step of the way, we would pull back and reassure ourselves that there was nothing we could do; that Europe should look after itself and the world would have to come second. We sacrificed the world to protect Europe.

But the time of political sacrifices is over. No longer are we to hide behind our seas and our fortresses, suspicious of the outside world. That has changed! Europe makes a stand against the most dreaded tyranny of our time; it makes a stand in the skies and in the muddy ground of Eastern Europe; it makes a stand in the frigid northern seas; it makes a stand on behalf of the world! But most importantly, it makes a stand against the forces of habit that keep nations apart and have fragmented this once globalized world. I stand here today next to his highness, Amir al-Mu’Minin abu Hakim Mustafa II 'Nasir al-Dawla' al-Haidar ibn Bahir al-Jumah, ruler of the great Azharid Khalifat; I stand next to Boris Rodchenko, the legitimate president of the Russian Federation, his government driven to exile by terrorists that now covet the world. We stand together as friends, and we talk together as people entrusted with the most noble and difficult of tasks: the healing of our tormented world. Our agreements of mutual assistance, economic cooperation and cultural exchange give a powerful message to those who would see our beautiful planet in ruins so that they may rule over its remains. The tide of History is against them!

The rise of Murmansk Sunset brought upon a long night for Europe and the world. A night of nightmares and despair that never seemed to end. But now, a new light glimmers in the horizon, heralding the break of day with the promise of a bright new world for all who but raise their eyes to see it. A world of friendship and understanding; a world of peace and cooperation; a world against which the venomous lashes of terrorism and tyranny are powerless against. This bright new world begins today! Not with the roaring of guns, not with bombs and jets, but with a simple handshake and an honest exchange of ideas. This is the way of the future. This is the only way, between civilized leaders of nations, if there is to be any future at all.”


“We go now to our analysts. Ernst Ekland, professor of Kremlinology, Montino Ghisellini, professor of Arabology, Helen Dwight, professor of modern political sciences. What are your thoughts?”

“First of all, president Langevin appears very dramatic. During the past week we have heard statements about Europe’s need to reassert itself in the world, but we have to ask, how feasible is any of this in the middle of a war of this magnitude?”...




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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-02, 11:02

The Free United States of America


The 56th president of the United States of America, and the 10th President since the great crash was named Matthew Washington (C). Like many other Presidents, such as Millard Fillmore, he could have faded into obscurity, except for two reasons. The first was that he was the last President of the United States, and the second being he bore the same last name as the first (and arguably greatest) president of the United States. He was decent, he could keep taxes low and government small, and he could keep the army up and running, a tough job in the post U.N. takeover conditions, but he possessed little ability to expand. He would try his best not to make a tough choice, and he would waver if such a decision was forced upon him.

But he was a good man, not of the establishment, like almost every post U.N. President. After the U.N. overran most of the old U.S., the two party systems were overrun. Democrats, always more prevalent in cities, found themselves outnumbered by down-home conservatives and Republicans, and no longer able to have a good say in government. So, at the time of Washington’s administration, there was the Conservative (C) (basic conservative values) party, the Republicans (R) (Defense and security) And Free Party (F) (Independence above all else, even freedom). Of these, the Republicans were the only true “party” the others were more mindsets that we subscribed to by elected officials and voters.

The Orange Death and Great Crash were the two fearsome daemons that had shattered the old American state. It’s outdated and broken army, navy and air force, were humiliated by the U.N., a truly saddening state of affairs for what was once the most powerful state in the world.

It is estimated nearly 76% of the U.S. army wore sky blue helmets in 2046, when the first takeover began. The next day, the U.S. army chose sides. 50% defected to the U.N., a defection based on key bribes, and general hatred of the U.S. establishment.

70% of National Guards, joined the defection. It was a disaster for a country crippled by the Orange Death and the Great Crash. The economically ruined country was in no shape for a civil war, and only scattered bursts of fighting broke out. The U.S. became a U.N. region of indefinite jurisdiction, but the President still sat in his oval office. A compromise, but one that the establishment was willing to accept, even though it meant little for the average American, an insurgency ripped apart the Midwest and Rocky mountains, fighting back against the U.N.

Two years later, in 2048, a hardline President doomed the U.S. By not accepting the old treaty, he almost ended America’s existence.

The U.S. army, literally fighting against men who but days ago were comrades, broke. Within days, almost every unit had either defected or surrendered. The Marines and several other units of National Guard in the Midwest banded together with the U.S. insurgency. But the tide of war went against them.

Because of the chaos that ruled America, Texas succeeded from the union, along with many other states, clamping down it’s own borders.

In the end, a “free America” was established through the Midwest, a shadow of its former self, but one which pretended to be the latest in a long line of American presidencies, but in reality a weak shadow of its former self was all it would ever be.

The glory days of America were the 1900’s. It had all but fallen by the year 2080.

But it would be foolish in the extreme to say it had fallen. America was still the land of the free and the home of the brave, even in it’s new capital at Austin, Texas, a fortified metropolis defended by the best of the Marines and 5th armored, the elite divisions of the Free U.S.A. And it wouldn’t give up without a fight, even now that such long odds were stacked against it.

Maybe in some way it could make up for its failures during the Great Crash… Even though it’s collapse was imminent, this time, Washington swore that he would not roll over without a fight.

But this conflict over Quebec… perhaps they could use it to their advantage, regain lost ground. Too long had the U.N. been able to rule America!
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-03-02, 12:49

May 11 2080, London

On the 10th of May 2080 president Langevin declared Europe’s global ambitions in a bright new world of restructuring and prosperity. On that same day, European intelligence informed him that the UN was threatening Quebec with military action. It was a nervous and thoughtful Langevin who settled back in his office in London and brooded.

“The media are already tearing apart my speech about Europe freeing the world. Parliament is incredulous. Dryer is just waiting for an incident like this to declare me an incompetent fool. If Quebec falls and the EU doesn’t lift a finger to help it, even my own power base will disavow me. Do you know how many investments we’ve made in Quebec in the last ten years? How many French investments?”

His secretary nodded negatively.
“Would you like me to call the foreign minister?”
Langevin thought for a few seconds.
“No. I’d like you to call the foreign minister, the defence minister and the director of the European Intelligence Network.”

That was a lot of busy people to shake up, he thought, but if he should be shaken up, why not them as well.


Rose Crawford was once an accomplished spy. She was now an accomplished spymaster and director of the EIN. Being in her early sixties, people often remarked that she looked like a kind old lady who enjoyed drinking tea and playing bingo. To them she replied that she did in fact enjoy drinking tea, but the games she played were rather more elaborate.

“...So our satellite images confirm the Quebecois reports of UN mobilisation south of Montreal. Analysis of these images, supported by reports from our own spies on the ground, reveal the UN force to be the 21st Mechanized Brigade.”

Agistinho cut in. “It has to be an act of intimidation. If they were serious about a military intervention they would have gathered more regiments. The Quebecois are still resolute enough to fight back one mechanised regiment, even if in the streets of Montreal, if the UN attacks it now.”

“Or it’s just the beginning. They’ll keep the 21st at the border long enough for the Quebecois to get used to it being there and they’ll slowly bring more regiments close enough to lend support when it’s time to strike” said Hafner.

“Regardless of the UN’s specific intentions, the end result is the eventual annexation of Quebec. What can we do to prevent that?” Langevin looked at Hafner first.

“A direct confrontation with the UN is out of the question. We are in preparation of our great offensive against Murmansk Sunset. All of our reserves will be needed. Even if we do spare one or more regiments, that will only give secretary general Sykes a pretence to escalate the crisis. We’ll be looking at a naval war in the North Atlantic, which could severely weaken our trade with the other American states”

“What about covert military aid to Quebec?” Agostinho ventured. “We could not challenge the UN officially but give the Quebecois enough support to convince them to hold on until a more favourable time for a full scale EU intervention.”

“Carl? Rose? Can this be done?”

Crawford calculated the factors in her mind. “It will have to be through civilian freighters and the units should not be EU army regulars.”

“There’s the Foreign Legion” said Hafner. “Some of its regiments are vital strategic reserves in the upcoming operations, but some others are retraining in France to be used in later phases of our attack. They are elite units and we have full freedom to engage them anywhere in the world without internal complaints.”

“I like that idea” said Langevin. "We’re spreading ourselves thin, but the Legion would certainly convince Quebec to not give up its sovereignty to the UN. Besides, from what I hear, many of the legionnaires come from North America. And the 3rd Foreign Infantry still considers the abandonment of French Guiana a disgrace.”

“The 3rd Foreign Infantry will be the first to be deployed, followed by the 1st Foreign Engineer Regiment. If things heat up we can try moving the 1st Foreign Cavalry Regiment as well, but I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Very well. Now, what about diplomacy? What are the stances of the other North American states on this?”

It was Agostinho’s turn again. “The AWC is expected to be neutral. It has lucrative trade agreements with both the UN and the EU and will not wish to jeopardise them unless it has no choice. The USA, on the other hand, might look on the movement of UN troops to the northeast as an opportunity. With the Rocky Mountains as a natural defense barrier against the UN’s West Coast Command, they could be persuaded to stir up trouble in the east if the UN becomes more aggressive. Mexico has no such advantages and is a less likely candidate to make an enemy of the UN.”

“We will have to talk with president Washington then to gauge his intentions. Also extend a proposal to the PSSA for an Atlantic Free Trade Zone, a region in the central Atlantic where merchant ships will be protected from attack even in wartime. I believe they will find such a proposal interesting and it will greatly benefit us should we get dragged into a war with the UN.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence followed. War with the UN. After nine years of war against Murmansk Sunset, no one found that prospect appealing.


Diplomatic messages:

Dear President Washington,

This is a time of great upheaval in the world. While the European Union fights against the spectre of tyranny in Eastern Europe, a similar spectre, under the guise of the United Nations, spreads across North America. It has come to our attention that the UN is moving armies to their borders with Quebec. Know that the EU will not stand by idly while Quebec is threatened. Know also that the UN’s actions weaken the defensive capabilities of their East Coast Command. We would be willing to share intelligence and lend material support should the USA choose to act upon this opportunity. We are hoping that war can be averted, but have made our plans in case the opposite occurs. The USA has much to gain by siding with the EU in such an eventuality.

Pierre Langevin
President of the European Union

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Volksie on 2008-03-03, 02:33

The truck skidded to a halt in the middle of the column and the men coughed as the dust settled. Hunter, the driver, jumped down and grimly shook my hand as the men loaded the wounded and dead into the back. When the last body was loaded in I climbed into the front seat with Hunter and the engine roared into life. Dust settled over the remaining bodies of the OSPC troops as the truck headed south.

It took half an hour to reach the outpost, a medium-sized complex, hidden in a valley amongst the mountains. In that time the dry and dusty land quickly turned to green trees and mossy rocks as the truck slowed and edged around the treacherous corners up into the mountain range.

As we went the lookouts hailed to each other and word was passed down to the sturdy wooden gates. We rounded the last corner as the gate swung open and the truck rolled to a stop inside. Soldiers and volunteers of the 29th regiment sat around lazily inside, while a few rushed around on odd-jobs. However, the general activity stopped as we jumped out of the truck and a small crowd formed around us and helped the men out of the back.

There were some shouts as the crowd tried to find out how the mission went but we were all too tired to answer. I waved people off and the crowd slowly dispersed. I strolled to my headquarters and Sarah fell into step behind me.

“How have things been while I was away?” I asked and was shocked to hear how tired I sounded.

“Things have gone smoothly, sir,” Sarah said simply. “There have been two patrols that have wandered into the mountains but both turned back before the border line. There have been no major incidents to the east either. I think the OSPC have finally given up trying to take Brisbane.” She finished hopefully.

“I hope so, Corporal,” I said. “And there were no incidents in the camp with everyone?”

“No, sir,” Sarah said as we stepped into my headquarters, a small wooden room with a single map stuck on the wall and a telephone in the corner. I sat down heavily in my chair and closed my eyes. Sarah lay on the couch and sorted through a pile of papers. “There was a message that came through yesterday, from Sydney, sir. I was told to give it to you straight away.”

“Yes?” I asked curiously. I rarely received messages from Sydney.

“A ship arrived two days ago,” I leaned forwards and reached out to take the paper she handed to me from the pile.

“A ship?” I said, astonished. “It came through the blockade?”

“Apparently it slipped through by going right down south and then hugging the shore back north.”

“They must have been determined to reach us then. Who was aboard?”

“Two officials from the UN,” Corporal Sarah said. “This was sent by General Hybes.”

I read the paper eagerly, but stopped and re-read the last paragraph.

“What will you do, sir?” Corporal Sarah asked. She already knew the command I had received.

“I will do as I’m ordered,” I said, staring off into the distance. “If General Hybes wishes me to travel to North America and represent us, I will. Tell the men I need two volunteers ready to leave by morning,” Sarah saluted and left the office.

“First,” I said to myself. “Some sleep.”
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-05, 07:13

May 12,
Cairo

The motorcade made it’s way down the tree-lined boulevard in the pre-dawn dark, moving swiftly through near empty roads. Inside a black Mercedes limo Mustafa watched the still-sleeping city pass by, the calm helped to ease his tense mood – the coming weeks were going to be devoid of peaceful moments such as this. But it felt good to be at last away from the cameras and plastic smiles of Malta.

He turned to Halil, who sat quietly across from him, “so how did you think that went?” he asked, it was the first chance he’d had to talk to his friend in private since they’d arrived in Malta.

“Quite well, I should think,” he paused, “the world sees that we and the EU are friends, and we now have free reign in Turkey; precisely what we wanted”

“Yes, so I thought,” a grin flashed across his face, “and Langevin has a serpent’s tongue on him; from that speech, anyone would think we were entering into a full alliance!” he laughed heartily.

“They very well might,” replied Halil, allowing a smile to creep across his face.

“I have assembled the Council of Guardians at the Conference Hall in the Citadel as you requested,” he continued, “they’re waiting there now. I doubt they’ll be very pleased about having to leave the airy breezes of al-Iskandariya, but they’ll be out of here by this evening – hopefully having agreed to back you in full…”

“Hopefully,” Mustafa’s brow furrowed, “but in any event I don’t require their ratification, it will just make things more difficult…”

“You shouldn’t have much difficulty convincing them of the benefits, anyways we’re here now.”

The car wended its way up the steep road of the limestone escarpment as the dark massif of the Citadel loomed above it – a silent and forbidding edifice. The limousine passed through the towering barbican and came gently to a stop before a tall limestone building.

The two figures, in white galabiyyas, got out and moved across the darkened plaza and went into the brightly lit building.

In the Conference Hall, Halil stood behind the assembled ‘Guardians’ as Mustafa went to the podium and addressed the Council, his voice booming out across a sea of white ghutras.

“Salaam ya-Saddiqi,” he began, “today the Khalifat stands at a fork in the road, and we must choose a path wisely lest we should fall into obscurity. With the death of my uncle, the revered Mustafa II, it may have seemed that the dream of a united Islamic world had died – uprisings and terrorist attacks threatened to tear the realm apart. Only after months of struggle, and even at times necessary brutality, were we able to regain control – thankfully the army remained loyal.

“Even now, despite the façade of unity, divisions still run deep throughout this Islamic realm, at any moment they threaten to break us apart at the smallest sign of weakness. To overcome our diversities, I will lead this United Islamic Realm into the greatest battle of it’s history, a struggle that will unite all our disparate people in a common cause – through adversity strength and through effort unity!

“An endless war drags on between Saratov and the EU, a stalemate that has resulted in the deaths of untold millions. Yet, in that conflict lies our chance – both sides are exhausted, both sides are on their last legs; if we but push against one their fragile edifice will shatter! We shall win a victory the likes of which no one has ever seen, we shall shake the Dar al-Harb to it’s core, and we shall rise to our rightful place of pre-eminence over the world!

“Revered Guardians, I bring before you the plans that will make this Khalifat the greatest in the fifteen hundred year history of Islam!”

At this there was a great cheer from the collected elders, inwardly Halil sighed with relief – the Council of Guardians was as good as won.

The rest of the plan he had already discussed a hundred times, so he left the Conference hall and went out onto parapet. The sun was now a sliver of orange on a cobalt canvas, the morning call to prayer began to call out across the waking city and Halil felt oddly at peace – this time of day had always calmed him, but lately there had been much too much to do, it was rare that he got an opportunity to just sit and watch the sun rise.

After what seemed a long time, he turned at a sudden sound - shaken from his reverie, the doors to the Conference Hall had opened and men were calmly streaming out – the meeting was over, and from the sound of it Mustafa had convinced them of the feasibility of his plan.

Eventually Mustafa himself came out, flanked by several top advisors; spotting Halil he walked quickly towards him.

“They have accepted,” he said brusquely, his eyes grave and dark, “we put our fates now in the hands of Allah … Insh’Allah we shall be victorious.”

“You shall want then that the realm be mobilized for war?” asked Halil.

“Certainly,” Mustafa replied, “all the Operational Plans that have been drawn up for this eventuality are to be executed immediately; the veteran elements of the Reserves are to be called up, Marshal Law is to be declared in trouble-spots, the Navy and the Air Force are to be put onto high alert, and any necessary supplies are to be placed at the disposal of the army,” he paused, “and although we will not be able to hide our mobilization completely, insure that all feasible steps are taken to disguise it’s magnitude – we cannot be scaring all our neighbours, everyone is far too jumpy for that”

“Of course, ya-Sayyid,” Halil gave a slight obeisance, “I shall get on it…”

As Halil walked away he was struck by the gravity of situation, the air seemed full of energy the tension that came with great plans and great gambles – he prayed fervently that they would be successful, he dared not think of the consequences of failure…

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by BasilBulgaroktonus on 2008-03-05, 21:05

"So we loaded up five Burning Bitches and fired them right into that second story window up there. Should have heard them scream, but serves em right. I mean, holing up in a school?"

Corporal Virminis left the question hanging as he gazed at the at the side of the school, its surface pockmarked by flame marks and bullet holes. Isaac followed his gaze, pleased by what he saw, and started walking towards the door. His guards and the corporal's unit also followed, with the corporal finally tearing his gaze away from the same second story window.

When he finally caught up with the executor, Isaac was already examining several of the classrooms. Scarred and broken, thought Isaac, yet with a little work this old building could prove quite useful.

"The Vicelords you found here were probably holding up in one of the oldest pieces of territory they laid claim too. Kind of like a gang holy land. Still, what affects did the napalm grenades have when you first fired them into the room?" asked Isaac as he turned back to face the corporal.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call them grenades, or whatever is in it napalm, but the fact of the matter is I think we scared them shitless when we fired those things in there. We really didn't know what was going on from outside, all we saw was light pouring out of that room. Then, I swear, out of nowhere we heard what I thought thousands of guns firing. I thought the bastards had snuck around us. When we examined the room we found a bunch of shattered ammunition boxes. I guess they must have kept the damn things open. Tore them to shreds."

The corporal kind of listed off the conversation. Isaac gave him a few seconds to continue,

"Thing is, they didn't know what they were doing, not really. Sure they knew how to boss the city around, steal shit from the suburbs. Raid I guess you could call it. I'm sure they fought each other and the few organized police forces, but they weren't real soldiers, just tribesmen with guns."

The corporal finished just as Isaac be had tacked on the last few bits of info onto his notepad.

"Well sir, I am still quite amazed by the lack of damage done to the city's structures and infrastructure. Compared to what happened to Akron, Cleveland was swept clean with little effort it seems," Isaac said cheerfully as he walked outside.

"Well, I guess they thought we were going to do the same thing we did to Akron so they really didn't stay buckled down. Still, it was a strange fight. Very...formal, I guess you called it. Swept half the city thanks to the Bitches before they could even organize a defense. Even accepted a surrender." Virminis laughed sourly at the last part.

"Did you see any resistance once you found out they were to be placed under the U.N.P.W.P?" asked Isaac, who found himself almost whispering the question.

"Eh, heh, I'm really not sure they knew, but I saw more than a few of them just seem to lose all interest in everything around them. When they finally marched them off you could just taste the despair."

"Thank you corporal, you have been quite helpful in my report," Isaac said as he climbed into the troop transport.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Aeraaa on 2008-03-06, 03:25

-Got a cigarette left mate?
-No you English bastard, you’ve snatched 5 today and it’s not even noon!
-Oh come on you bloody Italian you count cigarettes? You are really a sorry arse what?
-Whatever, “matey”…
The two soldiers were conversating while overlooking the waters of Marmara. They both were half-naked and enjoying the sun. Underneath them, thousands of EU troops unloaded guns, built defensive positions and moved supplies towards the whole coastline.
-What a view.
-That’s right mate. Seems the loafing won’t last long. We aren’t here for no reason.
-I know. But let’s enjoy it while it lasts.
-Seems strange that a few weeks ago we were fighting for our arses in Timisoara and now were sunbathing in Turkey.
-Well don’t know about you amico, but I prefer seeing crystal waters and local ladies, than ruins and human body parts.
-For once spaghetti boy, we both agree (laugh).
-Hey don’t you feel a little sorry for those poor bastards down there?
-No mate. Because they must be two things, engies or daisies (EU slang for new soldiers). And I don’t find the slightest amusement in doing the work of fobbits.
-Oh shit. Trouble comes…
Another man approached the two men.
-Morgan and Esposito. How’s the suntan going? Maybe you want a cold drink as well? Get you sorry asses down there you dirty maggots and help your budies!!!
-Sir yes sir!
-We were just relaxing since we didn’t have any duty sir.
-You’re joking me Esposito? That 155 over there won’t grow its own goddamn feet and move into position! Go and help the rest of the boys you lazy Italian prick!!!
After the two soldiers left about 10 meters away, Esposito told to Morgan.
-Damn this cornuto! He’s just a sergeant and behaves like he’s a fucking Major or something.
-Well said mate. Hey, two times in a day I agree with you, must be your lucky day!
-I don’t think so…
A platoon of soldiers was making drills a few meters away from the two soldiers and they were singing in a monotonous tone:

I’m a Euro paratrooper
Where I go the war is over
When I’m heard by Saratov
He just wants a day-off
All of Ruskies will surrender
When they see a scarlet berret

-Hey look. A platoon of little red riding hoods.
-God, I hate those guys. Not only they never do any labour, they also brag that because of them, Russians aren’t dining in Paris.
-Anyway, let’s go and help those daisies movie the 155…


Back in the Pindus headquarters, Aeropoulos and his staff were busy.
-Sir, most of the remilitarization of Eastern Thrace is complete. About 7000 men are stationed in the area. There are some sectors like Silver and Latin that need strengthening, but everything else seems fine…
-What about the local national guard?
-There isn’t any sir The demilitarization of Eastern Thrace meant that the national guard was disbanded.
-Isn’t there a police to maintain some sort of order?
-Well yes, but…
-Congratulations to them. They were just volunteered to join the Army.
-I see sir.
Colonel Sneider walked into the room.
-Seems like Eastern Thrace is lively again, right?
-You’re right. And it’s about damn time. We may draw some of our forces, but I feel a lot better now.
-Me too.
-When will you leave for Eastern Thrace?
-In about 22 hours.
-Well then, good luck my friend.
-Good luck to you General…
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-08, 08:59

Somewhere in Virginia

“So… Hunter, what do we have for today?” Brad looked around the arsenal of rockets and guns that they had stockpiled.

“These.” Hunter said, loading 1 of 5 rockets onto a launcher. They were two feet long, and about 5 inches across. “These things are death. Plastic explosives and shrapnel loaded in this thing. Got these from Free America. They can take out whole squads if used right.”

“Right.” Brad said. “You load up the truck? The U.N.’ll be here any second now.”

“Yep. I set up this room with a hidden time bomb. In thirty minutes, this place will be leveled.” He took one last look around the bare dwelling, a single story ranch house used by the Resistance.

Then, they heard the unmistakable rumble of U.N. tanks. He level his rocket launcher.

Brad had a cheap RPG launcher with him, and the two brothers aimed out into the semi-darkness of the forest outside.

The tanks, rolled out into the open, flanked by infantry in sky blue helmets. The brothers opened fire. You could almost see the shock in the eyes of the U.N. soldiers, as twin crimson fireballs enveloped the tanks. The next second, the hot shrapnel cut thought them like a knife through butter. The few remaining U.N. soldiers returned fire, red tracers ripping through the thin walls of the house. Hunter fired another rocket, and the U.N. soldiers fell silent.

But they still heard the rumble of tanks. U.N. armor was close by, and they could not afford to stay any longer. Plus, the bomb would go off in 15 minutes. The two brothers rushed out and into their pickup truck, gunning the engine and heading out up the drive.

Hunter readied the next rocket. The roads were going to be swarming with U.N. trucks after curfew. They sped off into the night, but it wasn’t long before they saw a camouflage jeep, flanked by twin police cars in their rear-view mirror.

Sirens went off, and they knew they had been located. Hunter lowered the side window, and bending out, managed to point the rocket in the general direction of their pursuit. The crack of gunfire echoed around him, and he felt a bullet graze his cheek, but that didn’t stop him.

He pulled the contact, and the rocket, with a terrifying scream, struck a sky blue U.N. police car, exploding in a blood red fireball, and causing the jeep to swerve, cutting off the other police car, which slammed it’s breaks to avoid sudden death.

But a man suddenly leaded out of the jeep, opening fire with a 9mm pistol. A bullet stuck Hunter, and he keeled over, still comically leaning out of the window halfway. Brad swerved, but it was too late. The other police car pulled up, ramming his truck off the road and into a ditch. Brad went for his pistol, but it was too late.

Another slug from the man in the jeep splattered Brad’s brains across the broken windshield.

The 2nd White House, Austin Texas, Free America

“The E.U.’s proposition is quite interesting, but can we even afford a war?” Washington said. “The U.N. may be in chaos, but I don’t relish the prospect of going up against them in open war, even with the E.U.’s aid. We simply are too heavily outnumbered and outgunned.”

“Can we afford not to?” Jesus Ramon, his Secretary of Defense, replied. “America cannot allow her people to suffer under tyranny!”

Jake Middleton, the Secretary of State, looked up from his memo. “Look at this. The U.N. just bombed a high school in New Orleans. 243 kids dead. In Cleveland, they used Nazi-like suppression tactics to bring the city under their power. I’m not even going to begin on the rape and pillage in Akron.”

“Oh my god.” Jessica Simmit, the Homeland Defense head, said. “Is their no end to their violence?”

“No.” said Washington. “Not until we take back what is ours.”

In a Press Conference later that day:

“America is the land of the free and the home of the brave. We have fought for many years to keep it that way, despite everything thrown against us, and we have endured. We continue to struggle against the forces of tyranny and oppression which hold many of our citizens, under the false guise of a “United Nations” – there is nothing united or free about them, merely a megalomaniac’s lies.

There may be hard times ahead. But, we will endure – for 300 and some years, we have fought to stay free, and we have endured. As long as we remain united and stand together, we can handle anything! We can endure! This great nation will not vanish from the earth as long as there are still a few good men and women to defend it!

In New Orleans, 243 kids were killed today. Through the country, they oppress and kill your fellow Americans. But from this day forward, we will take a stand. We will no longer cower when threatened. And we will unite this country again! We will not rest until again America is from sea to shining sea! “

The speech writers had done a good job.

Diplomatic messages:

To the E.U.:

You can be assured of our aid should war break out. However, supplies and weaponry are needed in order to bring our forces up to shape. This includes modern weaponry such as missiles and armored vehicles. If a weapons trade can be established, it would benefit both of us.


Last edited by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-09, 12:56; edited 1 time in total
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-03-09, 12:05

May 27 2080

Langevin was pacing nervously in his office. Today was to be the culmination of a long series of events. The preparations for the invasion had lasted for weeks, under complete secrecy. Intel reported that the Russians were reinforcing their fortifications on the Latvian coast, and amassing reserves further inland. The Northern EU fleet, supported by fighters operating from Sweden, had succeeded in creating a temporary zone of air control over the central Baltic, where landing craft carrying 40,000 men were standing by for invasion. Naval and aerial bombardment had already begun a day ago on the Latvian coast, but the landing craft would not try their chances there.

Hafner came in the room. “It has began. We can watch the progress from the Operations Room.”

The giant screen was lit up in blue and red, showing the movement of divisions from Sweden into Russian-occupied Finland. Simultaneously, little blue spots lit up in the rear of the Russian front. Paratroopers. The European landing armada made its way to Helsinki as the Northern fleet provided a strained network of anti-aircraft fire and wings of Eurofighters swept into Finland’s airspace. In total, the operation would include over 100,000 men, with reinforcements expected to be relocated from other fronts and from fresh recruits once Murmansk Sunset pulled back divisions to guard its northern front.

“We’re taking fewer casualties at sea than we expected. Our amphibious assault in Helsinki should be successful. However, we are making slow progress in the north. It seems the Russians have moved there some fresh troops that we were unaware of. The paratroopers will have to survive a little longer on their own until they make contact with the army.”

They had too. They were instrumental in keeping the Russian army from regrouping in new defence lines and keeping the European armies in Helsinki and the border from joining their fronts. It was a gamble – all of it. But for now it seemed to be paying dividends. If the momentum could be sustained, if Murmansk was taken and Saratovgrad besieged, then the war would take a markedly new form. Preparations had long been made for all realistic contingencies. It was all in the moments now.

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-09, 12:40

The Kremlin, May 30th,

“What’s going on?” Saratov looked at the operational map, as small red animated pawns were replaced by the blue E.U. symbols. “How did they hit us so well?”

“Unprepared. From analysis, it looked like the attack would hit the Baltic States. When it didn’t, we had to block the attack with what men we had. Paratroopers have managed to penetrate our defenses and we’ve paid heavily. The entire area is in a state of flux, but a few things are certain. We cannot allow the Kola Peninsula to fall. It’s where Murmansk Sunset was born, and cannot be allowed to fall. Saratovgrad is also quite heavily defended.” Dedenko looked over his notes. He seemed shocked by all this news. The past two days had been spent cobbling together a rough defense. All of Finland might be lost if they were not careful.

“Where can we pull troops from?” Yuri asked.

“The siege of Kaliningrad. Face it. It’s not that important weather Kaliningrad falls in a week or a month. It will still fall. But, it’s still a big setback. The additional defenses in the Baltic States are advancing to provide support as we speak. The paratroopers have created many problems in re-constructing a line of defense, but soon, I estimate that they will crumble. But, the E.U. will probably be ready for that. I don’t really know. They caught us off guard, but we’re at least still holding out. Helsinki fell, but we made them pay for it.”

“I think this is a job for the Siberian Tigers. They could be used to create chaos and prevent the E.U. from making their beachhead permanent.” Saratov said.

“We went over this.” Dedenko replied. “They will be crucial in Operation Cold Moonlight. We cannot spare them.”

“Fine. I guess we’ll make do with what we have.” Saratov conceded. “But we should bring a couple additional divisions up to help.”

“We will have a few units of reservists at Saratovgrad by the 5th.” Dedenko said.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-09, 12:48

The “Siberian Tigers” 4th Infantry

Every nation has their elite units, and the same can be said for Murmansk Sunset’s Siberian Tigers. They are an elite unit, trained from high school age, to be the ultimate fighting force. Although few in number (10,000 some active soldiers) they are truly the elite. Capable of quick responses and lightning fast raids and attacks, they are not meant to slug it out on the muddy battlefields of Eastern Europe, but rather to make a decisive strike deep behind enemy lines, and leave before noticed. Their most noticable distinguishing feature is their camo - shades of gray, rust colors, and steel blue.

They are trained as Marines, Paratroopers, and helicopter assault raids. Expert marksmen and heavily equipped with the latest military technology and a integration system similar to the “Land Warrior” system of the U.S., a system currently in use by 70% of Murmansk Sunset fighting forces. They truly are a battle winning force.

There are two branches, the military and civilian. Civilian are used as bodyguards for politicians, generals, and Nikoli Saratov himself; and hitmen for Saratov’s personal use. The military is the above branch.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-10, 09:17

June 1,
Dimashq Province

Tank Commander Khalid ibn al-Walid leaned out the door of the cramped passenger car as it rattled swiftly down the tracks, the hot desert air whistling through his hair bringing relief from the sweltering atmosphere inside. It was high noon and the unrelenting sun beat down upon the desert which seemed to stretch endlessly to the far horizon. broken only by a dark, narrow line some distance away: a massive convoy of trucks bringing troops, reservists, ammunition, fuel, food, and all the other panoply of a modern war up the Pan-Syrian highway to the war games in Turkey.

It was all part of Operation Mirage, the massed joint training operations along the north coast of Turkey and in the Black Sea. Now even Army Group Centre was being moved up there, and as part of the Caliph’s Guard Tank Corp he was moving north too. There were rumours going round about it all being some ‘secret’ operation, but such wild speculation never bore much fruit, he was just annoyed that he had had to leave the barracks at al-Iskandariya, since at least they had been near his family home.

He sighed inwardly and looked back down the train to the flat-cars which carried his tank – any tank commanders pride and joy, which he kept meticulous at all times. It was an upgraded T-104LR-A, and one of the most advanced tanks in the world capable of sustained long-range offensives and mounting a hefty 152mm smoothbore cannon. It was one of four tank models used extensively within the Army of the Islamic Khalifat, the others carrying out roles ranging from recon to fast-attack – including a newer model armoured mobile missile battery.

At any rate, it was much better than the upgraded T-95M model he’d served in when he’d first joined the tank corps 20 years ago; could it really have been that long? He could barely remember anything from back then, but he could clearly recall the jubilation he’d felt at being accepted into the corps, back then in that time of unceasing poverty and depression when millions were out of work it had meant enough influence and food for his family to survive. The hunger, the constant unending hunger was another thing that he remembered clearly from those times, not like today where the younger generation seemed to throw food away – he caught himself short. I’m beginning to sound like an old man, he thought, and I’m barely 42. He allowed a rare grin to crease his hardened face, his grey eyes twinkling.

Those had been days when it seemed the very strength of our religious conviction had kept people alive, kept the dream of a united Islamic world from dying. There was precious else holding everything together. But life had been fairly easy for Khalid, all the enemies had been defeated and the army had weathered a time of budget-cutbacks, until growing unrest – both at home and abroad – had led to increasing military expenditures throughout the 70’s.

After the 50’s, as the world economy slowly recovered, so did it’s need for oil, and the Khalif had been more than willing to oblige it. By the 70’s oil revenues were pouring in, and the economy began to pick-up, people stopped starving, and the basics of life slowly returned. There was even enough money around to start salvaging some of the larger hospitals, deathtraps during the Great Plague they’d been burned with the victims inside to try to stop the infection – but it hadn’t worked, nothing had.

Not even the Great Fires of 2039, where slums in all the major cities had been barricaded and fumigated; millions – infected and non-infected alike – had perished together amidst the seething flames and the choking smoke, amidst a vision of hell. To no avail, it had still spread from town to town, house to house, child to child – whole families had perished in weeks. But, even today great swathes of soot-blackened ruins scarred some of the cities in the Middle East, although in many places they had been planted over with memorial gardens – indeed al-Qahirah had so many that it was now called ‘the City of Gardens’.

Of course Khalid, couldn’t remember this, he’d been born the same day as the first plague victim was admitted into his local hospital, but he’d learned it by heart through the endless re-telling of what was known as “the time of nightmares”, it would not be soon forgotten.

But how much difference half a life-time makes, though the vestiges of that calamity were all around if you cared to look, few did – preferring to move on instead of dwell in the past. His children would look forward to a better life than he’d had, or so he prayed everyday.

Of course it had all almost fallen apart when the old Khalif, Mustafa al-Zahir, which some were already calling to be titled al-Akbar, had died. The Guard had been deployed to Iran to keep the peace, luckily nothing had happened and they’d all returned safely – but it had been a tense couple of months. The last of the public executions had been carried out in al-Iskandariya just weeks before –

A blast of the horn shook him from his reveries, he shook his head to clear his mind - his train of thought comprehensively derailed - with a final breath of air and a glance across the endless horizon he disappeared back into the stifling passenger car.


Last edited by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-10, 10:54; edited 1 time in total

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Aeraaa on 2008-03-10, 09:57

-According to our intel, the 10th and the 14th armored are in place.
-Excellent. There is no time to lose. The plan must commence at the right time.
-You can easily figure out sir, that the risk of the operation is high.
-I know, colonel. But we wouldn’t be in that position without taking any risks. If the information acquired by commander Smirnov was correct and Saratov didn’t decided to make any major changes to his line, then we have to win.
-Then Operation Vampire can begin.
-You must be sure about that. Send word to major Lawrence that H-Hour is 02:15.
-Yes sir.
-Now, all we have to do is sit back and watch the dogs of war do their job…

The full moon was shining on the dark sky. Trees were swinging their branches softly due to the breeze that was blowing in the night. Some night birds could be heard as well. It was truly a magnificent night, a night that any romantic person would find that’s what is worth living for.

However a small noise broke the idyllic background.

It wasn’t really loud, you could barely hear it. It sounded like the sound you get when you slide a football boot on a rough surface. You could even think it was a little bird singing. But anyone who has been in a battlefield, or even a military parade would instantly recognize this dreaded sound. After a few seconds the sound of a large engine was added to the previous sound, while the small rocks on the surface would move as the ground itself begun to shake as if a light earthquake was happening. Then the sounds became more and more. After a few moments, the sound became so loud that you could only speak to a man next to you of you screamed on his ear. Then, a dark figure, 4 meters in width and 8 meters in length appeared from a small hill, followed by some more. It was the dreaded Cataphract tank, EU’s spearhead. The tank columns advanced in a column, but suddenly, they switched off to a line formation.

-All right gentlemen, prepare for contact with the enemy at any moment. We are approaching Zombie sector, so most probably the enemy’s defensive live is straight ahead. ETA 8 minutes.
The order was made by major Lawrence, a British tank officer, bearer of the Cavalier of Valor, the highest decoration a tanker could achieve.
-Load Highly Explosive rounds, soft skinned targets are expected.
-Slow.
The tank’s speed dropped to half.
-Halt.
The tank stopped. If you could see the hill it was standing, only a small part of the turret was visible.
-Major Lawrence, requesting UAV scan on the area.
The reply came shortly afterwards.
-UAV scan completed. Denfensive line is located 1000 meters ahead of you. Small number of IFVs is located. No sign of enemy armor.
-OK men get ready. This is it.
-Gunner. Target 1 0 0.
-Set
-Fire!
-Firing now.

A thundering sound was heard. Not more than a second passed and a huge explosion lit the targeting area. The rest of the tanks opened fire like a storm coming straight from hell. The targeting area now was brightly lit as if a midnight sun was illuminating the area. The bombardment from the European tanks was fierce.

Lawrence saw his watch. 1 and a half minute passed since he opened fire

-Everyone, advance forward. Full speed.

All of the tanks advanced forward. Few seconds afterward another hellish sound was heard, but this time it sounded like a thousand banshees were howling with their terrible voices and the area were the tanks were was lit just as brightly as the area were they were firing from little meteor-like things falling from the sky.

-Good job, Major. You’ve estimated the artillery barrage right on time.
-Quit the chit-chat, Digger 2 and focus on the objective.
-Load.
-Loaded.
-Target 1 0 1
-Target acquired.
-Fire!
-Firing now.

Another shell was fired from the tank as the tank was now simultaneously moving and firing. The cacophony on the battlefield now was otherwordly since the defenders tried to repulse the attack with everything they could.

Suddenly, the tank right next to the major’s one exploded in a huge ball of flame.

-What the hell was that?
-Anti-Tank missiles! Watch out!

A small screen on the tank gave the signal: WARNING! MISSILE THREAT!

-Halt.
-Ready ASPIS.
-Set.

The commander waited for a while. Cold sweat was beginning to run from the foreheads of the other crew member, but he seemed strangely calm. Then suddenly Lawrence yelled:
-Now!

Small pellets were launched by the side launchers of the tank. They traveled about 20 metters and suddenly exploded, causing the missile to explode just before the tank. It was slightly shaken by the explosion, but no damage was caused.

-Target 1 0 1. Range 1100 meters.
-Target acquired.
-Fire!
-Firing now.

The shell that was fired from the tank hit a small armored car, that exploded violently.

-Forward.
-All go to Goblin Joker 57.
-Roger.
-Machine gun
-Machine gun readied.
-Fire at will.

The tanks were close enough. The started firing from their co-axial machine guns, mowing down the infantry. A rocket from an RPG hit Lawrence’s tank, but it was deflected off the tank’s armor and exploded nearby, causing no damage. The desperate infantry men were fighting with everything they could, even with mortars, heavy machine guns and grenades. But their effort was futile. The tanks rolled over their lines like a steamroller. Victory was at EU’s hands.

-OK gentlemen. The 85th mechanized infantry is following and they’ll mop up what’s left. We have to continue to the Quake sector. All forward!

A message came to Lawrence.
-Well done major. Be advised, two enemy tank squadrons are coming to your position for a counterattack.
-Roger that, HQ.

Lawrence scanned the area and found a small hill with a good slope. That’s where he would defend.

-All go to Goblin Icon 54.
-Form line.

The tanks took a position where their silluette was not visible by the sky. Although they were totally vulnerable to enemy fire, Lawrence was counting on the element of surprise.

Soon afterwards, lots of dark sillouettes were found on the horizon. With night vision however it was easy to identify the main battle tanks of the Murmansk Sunset.
-That’s them!
-Steady everyone.

Lawrence was waiting for the full strength of the battalion to show. The hill was not in the line of advance of the Russian column and the commander must have been inexperienced, for they didn’t spot the European tanks.
-OK, everyone load Sabot rounds.
-Loaded
-Target 1 0 1. Range 1550 meters.
-Target acquired.
-Fire!
-Firing now.

The shell fired from the 140mm gun of the commanders tank hit it’s target on the space between the hull and the turret. The result was a violent explosion, that blew the tank’s turret about 7 meters from the ground. The rest of the tanks acquired their targets and fired one round each.

Lawrence gave the order:
-Reverse.

He positioned his tank in a hull-down position. Everyone followed. Explosions were shaking the ground between the tanks. One Cataphract was hit in the chassis while driving backwards. Screams from the radio were heard and soon 3 of the 4 tankers abandoned their tank. Another one was hit much more seriously

-Mark, put out that fire
-Quick the ammunition could blow off at any mom…

A huge explosion blew the tank and several flaming metal parts were sent flying like fireworks. Silence…

Lawrence was giving his own orders:

-Fire!
-Firing now.

This was heard another 5 times from this tank. After a few minutes and due to the air support that came to support the tanks, the Russian tanks were withdrawing driving in reverse and randomly popping smoke. From the inside of Lawrence’s tank it looked like a green fog was spreading. The tank battle was over.

-All report status.

It turned out that 12 Cataphracts of the 10th were lost in the battle. Heavy casualties, though acceptable. But they achieved their objective. The valley was full of burning metal wreckages and most of them belonged to Murmansk sunset…

Aeropoulos was anxiously waiting for the aftermath. Soon the report came.
-Sir the 10th and 14th achieved their objective. The 85th mechanized is finishing off any pockets of resistance left. Our armored forces are now at the rear of the forces in Bucharest. The encirclement is almost complete.
-Great news! Now let’s see if our Russian friends decide to leave the city to us…


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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Kasey on 2008-03-10, 11:24

June 2nd, UN Emergancy Broadcast System

“So, Julie, do you want to save the money, or do you want to gamble it on the bonus question?”

“Well, I think I’ll-……..”

A metallic voice rang out from millions of televisions across the UN’s sphere of control, “We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news from San Francisco”

The screen flickered blue for a moment, and then standing behind a small Microphone stand, was Secretary General Sykes.

“Good people of the United Nations. It has come to my attention that the former Untied States of America has declared war on this union of ours. The interfering union of Europe has backed them. Will you let America rule over you again? Their corruption, and greed is what brought this world crashing to its knees! US Imperialism is what ended the old world! And now it tries to stop our formation of a new one! I tell you now; I will not let this happen! And I’m sure you’ve all heard of what happens when Europe gets involved! The first two ‘World Wars’ were a direct result of European squabbles, Americans, good Americans like you or I, died to protect the Empires of the British, and of the French. Now these same peoples are united against us, along with their old lapdog, the USA! They wish for their Empire’s to be renewed, they have promised loyalty to the USA, and maybe you feel a stirring in your heart for that old flag? That great democracy? I tell you now, that flag hangs over a false city, and a false president! They think they can revitalise America with this alliance, but they cannot! As soon as European troops land here, then they will roll into Austin, and make it their Colonial Capital. The original Washington fought long and hard to eject the British from North America, now the new President as unlocked the door and invited them in! So I beg of you, stand with me against the darkness of the past, with your faces towards the brightness of the future.”

The screen crackled briefly, then went back to the drudge of daytime TV.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Kasey on 2008-03-10, 12:19

Information on the UNCPWP

The UNCPWP is a strictly volunteer army, as the central government fear that if conscription was to be introduced, then many of the more ethically diverse populaces under UN control, that are already less than happy, may rebel. However this means that even the regular UNCPWP infantry (Or “Bluies” as they are derisively called by the more elite units) are well trained and equipped.

The UNCPWP is organized into regiments.

Most of the army is regular infantry; these are the troops known as “Bluies” for their sky-blue helmets. They are well trained and equipped units, better than other nation’s reservists and conscripts, but they are also smaller in numbers than other country’s bog-standard forces.

The more “elite” units are these; The Mechanized regiments, the Light Infantry, and the Marines.

Each of these regiments are formed of men either picked at Basic Training, or invited to join from the regular ranks.

The Mechanized Regiments fulfils the role of heavy armour. These are the men that break enemy tank formations, and strong city defences, at current there are 7 Regiments of Mechanized Infantry; The 16th, the 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, and finally the best of them all the vaunted 23rd.

The Light Infantry the men used in wide-open country, they are transported in fast jeeps, helicopters and troop carriers. They push deep and quick into enemy territory to open the way for the Mechanized and normal units. The Light infantry often work as Paratroopers. At current there are 8 Light Infantry Regiments. The 24th, the 25th, the 26th, 27th “The Irish”*, 28th, “The Tartans”^, 29th, 30th, and the famous elite, 31st “The Eagles”

The Marines. The UN’s Marine Corps, the well trained and equipped elite medium infantry, often used as a halfway house between the speed of the Light Infantry, and the firepower and strength of the Mechanized. Also they are the men specially trained for operations at sea, and coming from the sea. At current there are 8 Marine Regiments; 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th.

Each Regiment is generally commanded by a Colonel, and regiments are often grouped into Army Groups (or Divisions) of between 2-6 Regiments. The Commander of this Army Group is usually a general (Major-General upwards) this general may be in command of one of the regiments, but more usually he is independent to all the regiments under his command, to prevent favouritism.

*The Irish Regiment has strict rules on the descent of its soldiers; each man must be of proper Irish descent

^The Tartans is composed of men of Scottish descent, and has the same strict rules as the Irish

The Eagles are so called because they spear-headed the attack into Washington DC, and finally took control of the Whitehouse, their nickname is in honour of capturing the Whitehouse’s Eagle flag, which still serves as a regimental colour on parade.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-10, 14:54

June 4th, 2080

The air in the command room was tense to say the least. Every major general was there, and ideas flew around the room like caged birds suddenly let free.

“The E.U. has forced us onto the defensive earlier than anticipated. Smirnov’s capture has allowed the E.U. to exploit key weaknesses in our assault on Bucharest.” Dedenko said. “Options?”

Mikhail Khruschev, a lower ranking general in command of the Bucharest attack, quickly review his notes.

“Operation Cold Moonlight is taking up most of our reserves, and I doubt adding additional troops is going to do much good. I suggest using what men we have easily available to come in from the flanks and envelope the flanking forces they sent out. It will force them to think, at worst, and at best will stall the counter attack. Meanwhile, an armored force could surge towards Belgrade, possibly preventing a long, bloody, Stalingrad-like battle.”

“No.” Dedenko replied. “Cold Moonlight, while a masterpiece, is taking up our ability to attack in additional places. A shame, but there are few additional attacks we can pull off.”

“But the first part?”

“It’s fine.” Dedenko said. “That’s what we’ll do.”

Larissa military prison deep behind E.U. lines June 4th, 2080

The prison was quite unadorned. A single brick building, with watchtowers and barbed wire fencing, but patrolled by a force of some 100 soldiers, with plenty more on call just down the street, at a more sizeable military base, the E.U. had never dreamed it would need as much defense as it would need in the next couple seconds.

A chopper flew over the base, heading for the prison’s helipad, a helipad which coincidentally was as far from Smirnov’s cell as humanly possible.

Never say Murmansk Sunset spies aren’t effective.

The chopper touched down, as a man with a clipped English accent maintained radio contact with the tower. As soon as a small detachment of guards arrive on the rooftop to inspect the chopper’s cargo, a crimson fireball tore to shreds the men and the west side of the prison.

Many prisoners were killed, but they were broken men, or grunts who nobody cared about. The Siberian Tigers had better things on their mind.

At the same moment, three prison vans stopped abruptly in front of the first door.

Soldiers, wearing the distinctive Siberian Tiger camouflage, scampered out of the vans. The moment guards saw them, it seemed they would be cut to shreds, but they were far too quick. Most security was dazed and confused, and in the chaos, they fell in a shower of depleted uranium.

The barrel of their AK-201’s glowing slightly, some ten men rushed inside the prison. The others headed for guard posts and pillboxes they could use when the E.U. soldiers from the base arrived.

The soldiers entered with little opposition, mowing down the few guards who stood in their way with little problem.

Alexi was waiting in his prison block for them. He had a dazed and worn out look on his battered face, and his arms had rows of needle marks and cuts on them. He staggered to his feet, with the look of a broken man. The commander frowned. He had taken much abuse at the hands of his captors.

“I didn’t tell them anything of value.” He mumbled repeatedly, as one of the soldiers picked him up and hurried hi, along with the others, towards the exit. They encountered almost no resistance along the way.

Outside, three Catphract tanks, backed by a veritable swarm of infantry on foot and in Hummers, rumbled towards the makeshift positions set up by the Siberian Tigers. In case of a prison riot, the prison had been equipped with a shut down system, disabling the prison’s guns and rocket launchers. However, the Tigers did not need that.

In spite of the fact that a force nearly quadruple their number had managed to arrive in about three minutes, they appeared unconcerned. They were experts at this. As the tank came within 200 meters, a single VKD-57 non-guided Ivanov anti-tank missile left the barrel of a Siberian Tiger’s launcher. It screamed through the air, engulfing the lead tank in a ball of fire. The other tanks stopped, and in the confusion, launched grenades and machine gun fire opened up on the surprised E.U. soldiers.

This operation had been ridiculously easy. The soldiers had not been expecting heavy armed resistance, seeing as every weapon in the facility (minus outside intruders) had been disabled, and they did not believe broken prisoners could put up much of a fight. The bomb, they believed, had been the sole extent of the attack. And by the time they realized they were wrong, Siberian Tigers had turned Greek soil red with their blood.

The Tigers did not stop however, and were not content with the damage they had done. They now clambered back in vans, this time with their cargo. The vans vanished into the night.
Chase would have ensued, but right after the vans left, the surviving Russian prisoners followed suit, running out the main doors, their cells opened by the Siberian Tigers Before the E.U. troops could re-group, some 50 prisoners of war, likely armed, were now loose in Greece.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Aeraaa on 2008-03-11, 11:04

Aeropoulos could barely hold his wrath. The incident reached his ears and made him furious.
-Get me lt. colonel Lazaridis online...

After a few seconds, lieutenant colonel Lazaridis appeared in the screen of Aeropoulos' computer...

-S...sir! Good morning!
-I don't think so lt. colonel. From what I've heard, things have gone pretty bad in your unit.
-Well sir, it's not that bad as you may think as...
-Do you think you're talking to a fool, lt. colonel? From what I've heard, 53 of your soldiers are killed in action, one tank was heavily damaged, two light vehicles were destroyed,half of the prison installation was blown apart and a really important prisoner was rescued. Is this your idea of exaggeration???
-Well, they surprised us that's why they...
-You were supposed to be a high security prison. Find a better excuse than that!
-Don't worry sir. I've sent a whole battalion looking for them under my orders.
-That's your last orders as well. Due to your incompetence I relieve you of your command. Major Sialmas will replace you temporarily.
-But sir I...
-Dismissed!

The screen closed. Brigadier Kralj who was in the room asked?
-So what are your orders sir?
-Send a company of the mountain commandos of the Greek national guard. Whatever prisoners they find they are to be executed on the spot!
-But sir, this violates the Geneva convention!
-I don't give a damn about the Geneva convention! This thing was a humiliation for EU army and I won't let it pass! And try to track the vans! They won't have left our area of control...
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-13, 18:18

June 3,
Tehran

Summer had arrived late this year, only now driving the cool freshness of spring up into the mighty peaks and forests that ringed the northern limits of Tehran. Now the city baked, and people sought shelter indoors and in the many parks that stretched around the city.

In his office at the Army Group East Headquarters building, General Sa’ad ibn Abbas sweltered, despite the efforts of a vainly whirring fan and open doors that merely allowed more hot air to flow into the room. He longed for the day to end so that he could flee – along with everyone else of any importance – to a villa in the cool hills to the north of the city, in the meantime he watched the clock tick idly by.

Since the ending of ‘the Rebellion’, there had been absolutely nothing to do. Army Group East was not taking part in the war games – Operation Mirage – and all the insurgents had been recently annihilated, it made for a quite boring time since he was still expected to be on call for much of the day.

He’d just begun contemplating what he would wear to the Governors Annual Dinner that night when his aide-de-camp arrived, breathless, at his door.

“Sir, this message just arrived from Centre Command, Cairo – highest level of encryption, sir,” he said quickly, the general wondered where his apparent excitement came from, but he knew not to get his hopes up. these transmissions rarely conveyed anything more than ‘please detach a regiment to x city’, or, more commonly ‘due to budget cut-backs supplies will have to be locally acquired at your expense’.

“Well, hand it over,” he replied, taking the communiqué. He read it over quickly, “hmmmm, better than nothing I suppose…”

He handed the message back to aide, “apparently we’re to concentrate our forces and move them to and around Tabriz, in the east. We’re also mobilizing the reserves, apparently this Army Group is to arm and have ready for combat 800 000 of them within 15 days, which is pretty short notice for that number.”

“Any reasons given for this, sir?”

“None, just instructions to mobilize and move to Tabriz,” he paused, “ have orders given to start shifting divisions there immediately, I trust you can draw up a timetable to prevent back-ups and traffic jams? Good.

“Now have the message sent around to all the members of my Staff, and they can organize it all. Apparently I’m also to fly to a meeting of the General Staff at Sinop tonight, so I shall be away for at most a day.”

“Sir,” replied the aide.

“Also,” interjected Sa’ad, “telephone the Governor and tell him that I, regretfully of course, wont be able to make it to the dinner tonight, just tell him I’m ill or something,”

“Yes, sir.”

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-14, 13:44

June 12,
Sinop

A cool north wind washed over the coast, whistling through the twisting alleyways of Sinop, and carrying away the stifling heat of summer. Mustafa looked across the bay, upon which dozens of warships of all shapes and sizes danced to some inscrutable pattern before a background of verdant green hills which toppled steeply into the cobalt sea. He knew that behind the of hills, in the valley beyond, thousands of his troops prepared – unknowingly – for the greatest test the Khalifat had faced thus far.

The atmosphere of a Black Sea resort town helped to ease the tension, however.

Halil approached from behind him, papers in hand.

“ya-Sayyid, these are the latest reports on ‘Silent Blade’,” he said, handing the papers to Mustafa, “all seems to be moving forward according to plan, no one, as far as our spies can detect, is overly suspicious of our recent actions. As for ‘Blinding Shield’ and ‘Righteous Blade’, everyone is set to be in position and ready by the night of the 20th – so everything is on schedule in that respect.”

Mustafa peered quickly over the reports, “yes, all appears to be in order, but...” He left the question unasked.

“Do not worry, at this point we cannot turn back anyways, all this has been ruinously expensive,” Halil said casting his arms about, “and the Council, for what it’s worth, will not be pleased if we pull back now.”

“I know,” replied Mustafa quietly, “we are in the hands of Allah now,” he smiled broadly.

“One last thing,” continued Mustafa as Halil made to leave, “I want the deployment of ground troops to the Istanbul front directed by General al-Nazeer, see to it that he is informed will you?”

“Of course, ya-Sayyid.”


Last edited by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-14, 15:34; edited 1 time in total

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-14, 13:45

June 14,
Black Sea

al-Walid had been better. One week at sea was severely testing the constitution of this previously, and happily, land-bound tank commander. The brief intervals on shore as a result of the frequent mock landings were stressful and not at all helpful. So far he hadn’t really slept since boarding this infernal ferry at Trabzon.

So far no one had been told anything except to continue the training schedule and get rested up, but rest had been difficult since long hours had to be spent inspecting the tanks after each landing. At least everything seemed to be holding up well thus far.

Of course rumours were rampant, the air of secrecy that seemed to hang over everything was enough to get everyone gossip mad – each bit of “news” seemed to spread around the company within moments, carried on the wind like some virus. The most frequently touted one was that this was all in preparation for an invasion of Bulgaria, frequent passes just off the shore by our other warships seemed to confirm this, though by now al-Walid had learned to take everything with a grain of salt. When asked why the Khalif would choose to invade Bulgaria, the only reasons given were some vague allusion to historical imperative. Most likely, in a week they’d all be on a train back to al-Iskendariya.

In the meantime, he’d concentrate on holding in his meals…

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-14, 14:47

June 18th 2080

Kremlin command bunker


Saratov was awoken at 24:00 GMT. He, although bleary, quickly got dressed in a jet black shirt and pants, and staggered down the hallway into the Central Command Center in charge of all Murmansk Sunset armies.

The room was illuminated an eerie greenish color, from the hundreds of massive plasma screens arrayed on the walls, each showing a different picture in night vision. They rotated through different spots all along the vast battlefront.

All about was hubbub, as hundreds of officers and analysts poured over data and facts, making calculations, running simulations. It was easy for Nikoli to become overwhelmed by the sheer numbers and screens everywhere, all the noise. In his tired and slightly hungover state, his bleary eyes scanned the room for Dedenko, the only man who could make sense of this Byzantine mess.

All this was, however, dwarfed by a single plasma screen in the center of the room, holding a picture of Eastern European battlefront, with hundreds of symbols and graphics representing every inch of the tactical battlefield. Technicians swarmed around the vast screens, recording data and interpreting the findings which were being wired to the various supercomputers sprawled around the room.

Dedenko stepped out of the confusion and greeted Saratov with a smile. “Operation Cold Harbor initiated five minutes ago.”

Saratov smiled blankly back and pulled up a swivel chair. “Good.” He looked at the ceiling. A bright green L.E.D. clock had been placed there, with the numbers 12:05:36 on it. The time. Ticking away. Every second was crucial now, five minutes after zero hour.

BBC and a Russian news station played in the background, filling the already cacophonous room with even more noise. “Riots in Paris and London, sparked by collage students… More from sports, Victor…”

Suddenly, more and more of the screens were filled with green tracer rounds. Silent explosions filled every screen, and all was silent. Murmansk Sunset tanks rolled through the fields of Eastern Europe, firing all the while. He could see bursts of counter-fire, but nowhere near enough to pose a threat. They had hit with overwhelming force.

An officer ran up to Dedenko. “54 Armored reports minimal losses after they were sighted by a E.U. convoy and engaged. Nevertheless, they are pushing ahead into Bucharest.”

He nodded. Saratov took a better look at the screen. The blue E.U. graphics were consistently getting pushed backwards or being removed from the picture, as a seemingly unending stream of Russian units, primarily armor, smashed into the E.U. line. Artillery fire tore apart the E.U. lines and they crumbled as the Russians pushed onward.

6:17

The advance had scored notable victories in Finland and Romania, and the E.U. forces were being pushed back. Scattered villages awoke to find themselves with Russian columns rolling through.

But the victory might be short lived. The Russians were throwing everything into this push, with results that seemed inadequate to them. After all, this assault was last-ditch. If it failed, Murmansk Sunset was as good as lost.

So far, after an hour of uninterrupted assault, the E.U. line was crumbling, but Poland still held strong. The siege of Kaliningrad wore on with no change, as did every other siege. Land gains were useless without cities to back them up.

12:00

The assault wore down for the day.

BBC

“Hello, I’m Casey Othic and this is the twelve o’clock news hour. We have breaking news. Many demonstrations have erupted throughout Western Europe. Particularly intense protests in Denmark and France have actually impeded industry and commerce in major cities. We have word that some 147 people have been arrested.”

Lines of disenfranchised college kids pickteded the streets of Paris and London, waving signs at the riot police, as always a blank oppressive wall of faces, unmoved by their “plight.”

What was that plight anyways? Unemployment benefits were always on the rise, the government being pushed towards socialism to give the mob it’s bread an circuses. But the angry youth could always find something to rouse them to fury, definitely so in a post-Orange Death world.

So they picketed. And the world watched.

24:00 June 19th

The second wave of assault began. Saratov had napped in free moments all day, but today would be another all nighter. This time, Yuri joined them for hypercharged energy drinks and another round of staring at unintelligible figures and graphics.

At least this time Saratov had a friend to talk to who similarly didn’t have a clue as to the meaning as to any of the figures.

He did understand the main screen, showing the relentless advance of the red animations, as the Russian army rolled on.

But, Saratov was not an idiot. He knew full well that the Russians could not win this battle.

His great secret was an alliance with the Caliphate. Although he had some personal suspicions, he was willing to lay his trust in them. What other choice did he have? The war was going downhill, he needed an ally who could charge into Greece and end the war once and for all.

His dreams of European hegemony would soon be even closer to realization as ever, provided everything went as planned. The attack was going smoothly, and Caliphate forces were massing for an attack on the E.U. under the guise of a “training mission” and the riots were also Caliphate engineered. It was some plan. And the Caliph, Saratov thought, was quite a schemer. But how far could he trust him? As easily as he lied to the E.U., could he also turn on Saratov?

He didn’t want to ponder that possibility.

8:00 GMT Kaliningrad

Amidst the bombed out ruins, with the smell of explosives lingering in the air, the oblast of Kaliningrad fell, finally, to the victorious Murmansk Sunset army.

Cheering crowds was a gross overstatement. At least ten homeless people who had survived by hiding in the defunct sewer systems of the city now came out, cheering, oblivious to their reeking conditions. But it was all the welcome the soldiers would get for seizing back their last piece of homeland.

12:00 GMT

Saratov rubbed his exhausted face as he doused it with water. The news was good from the front. And even the news had a happy story.

“Protests have spread to all major cities. Mainly non-violent, so far, they do seem to have shut down some industry. Interestingly enough, the exact motives of the various movements are unclear, seemingly whatever works as a credible excuse. Later on, we will have a team of mob psychologists on to talk about this interesting turn of events…”

Click.

“I’m Casey Othic, BBC. On the military front, we would like to talk about the latest advance made by Murmansk Sunset. They have driven us back across the Vistula in most places, and Bucharest has almost fallen. But why are they doing this? The gains are temporary at best, a total military blunder at worst. Richard, your opinion?”

“I’m not exactly sure – the move is baffling, to say the least. – why should they do this? The protests might be a cause, hit us why we are dealing with internal problems, but this level of assault cannot be sustained for more than ten more days. And the riots – what’s causing them? It’s all an enigma.” The correspondent replied.

16:00 GMT, Romania

Stepan waved his AK wildly in the air as the Russian tank column, backed by infantry in armored personnel (although they often rode on top of the tanks, for quicker response and because the threat of attack was low). He was one of those sitting on top, as they rolled on past blasted-out tanks and bloody, stinking, dismembered bodies, lying in heaps along the side of the road, their scorched bodies leaving the stench of burnt flesh hanging unpleasantly in the air.

But they had grown used to it.

And through it all, the war continued on, and tired and bloody men fought on muddy battlefields even as their masters plotted and schemed in their respective capitals…



Last edited by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-14, 16:35; edited 1 time in total
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by RedAkbar on 2008-03-14, 15:13

10 June 2080

The months following the assassination of Fernando Ramos were extremely tough for the people of the Pharmaceutical States of South America. Rebel forces frequently raided government holdings, creating a very volatile environment in the cities. Anyone suspected of being a rebel sympathiser was summarily rounded up and taken to facilities for 'questioning.' Very few returned, and those that did were afflicted with all kinds of mental and physical illnesses, ranging from drug addiction to total amnesia. Some even displayed symptoms similar to that of the Orange Death.

If the rebels hoped to loosen Alvaro Noriega's grip on the country, their attacks had the opposite effect. Every day, Noriega sunk his nails deeper into the land, tearing at the fibre of the people. The rebels, led by Augustin Noriega, grew increasingly frustrated at the lack of effect they were having on government holdings, and retreated to the jungles to regroup and gather allies. A tense peace ensued...

------------------------------

Electronic Message to the leader of Murmansk Sunset:

Salutations to you, Mr Saratov.

I hereby request trade routes to be reopened between our great nations. The great wealth and pharmaceutical supplies of the P.S.S.A is open for your perusal, Mr. Saratov, if you would but assist us in rooting out a slight rebel problem we are currently experiencing. While they pose little threat to government, I cannot in good conscience send any troops or supplies to aid you against the EU when they lurk in my jungles, plotting against me. It is also my belief that they will attempt to make contact with the EU or Caliphate for aid. Any assistance you might send to aid us, will be paid back tenfold. On this, you have my word.

Think on this, Mr President.
Alvaro Noriega

------------------


Electronic Message to President Langevin of the EU:

To minimise the risk of detection, I'm forced to keep this brief. I am Augustin Noriega. My father, Alvaro Noriega, is courting the Murmansk Sunset for an alliance, one that could greatly hinder your war effort.

If you assist me and my rebel forces in mounting a coup, we will throw the PSSA's great wealth behind your cause. This is my solemn pledge, Mr. President, and one I wish to honour if you grant me the opportunity.

Kind regards
Augustin Noriega

_________________
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Aeraaa on 2008-03-15, 05:49

It seemed there would be no rest for the high-ranking officers of the 3rd Army Group. The War Room in Pindus mountains was full of noises, coming from either men or machines.

-General Aeropoulos, the situation is grave. Most of our lines are broken by the huge offensive of the army of Murmansk Sunset. Our line of defense is now 71 kilometers from Sofia. Costanza is surrounded. 2 divisions are completely annihilated and many others are in bad shape. Our armored divions are split between the ones being in Bulgaria and the ones in northern Romania that together with elements of the 2nd Army Group are trying to prevent encirclement.
-Gentlemen, please calm down. It is no good to panic, it will just make matters worse. Saratov has surprised us, I’ll give him that, but let’s be rational. Just how possible it is that he isn’t using his entire force upon us? If he had that many units plus reserves, we would have been defeated long time ago. I think this is a desperate attempt to end this war in his favour.
-OK then, what should we do?
-First of all, secure our current line of defense. Send all regural army reserves at the front. The 60th Paratrooper regiment should deploy to Costanza. Their role is to help the units trapped there to hold the line and threaten the Russian right flank. Then we should crush our opponents, with superior firepower. We control the skies, so it’s good for the bombers and attack planes to exploit this trait to the maximum. Wherever there are spotted large concentrations of armor, it is the role of the air force to obliterate them. And I will call the strategic command to be on the line. Their Satellite Missile Platforms are vital now. Is everything clear?
-Yes sir.
-Good then. You all know what to do. Don’t disappoint me.

Aeropoulos had another fear as well. The military of the Islamic Kaliphate has been deployed in Turkey and could possibly threaten the EU right flank. If they made a successful landing, the whole front could collapse. The 7000 men of colonel Sneider were mostly battle hardened and well dug in, but there is no telling how strong the opposing forces would be.

He opened his laptop and sended the following media mail:

To the supreme command of European Union Military

The situation in southeastern Europe has turned against us. It is imperative to use all the firepower we have to stop the advance of the forces of Murmansk Sunset. Therefore I request the use of the EMP missiles we have in our Satellite Missile Platforms (SMP), followed by a massive aerial bombardment. As well as this, I request the 2nd fleet to deploy in the Aegean Sea, to prevent any potential landing to the shores of Turkey. It would be also wise to occupy Cyprus and send a significant force of strategic bombers to target important targets in Syria and Turkey.

General Aeropoulos, commander of EU Army Group 3
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Kasey on 2008-03-15, 08:27

Top Secret UN Shipyard, North America


Sykes stared in awe at the huge battleship sitting in the dry-dock before him. It was gargantuan, it was massive, there were, in fact, no words in Sykes’ extensive vocabulary to describe the epic proportions of the ship before him. Beside him his guard, a young, and excited Lieutenant, was babbling away about the capabilities and power of the ship, the UNS Woodrow Wilson, but he trailed off when he realised the Secretary General was oblivious to all but the ship in front of him, and how it could seal his dreams.
Briefly, his eyes flicked from the Woodrow Wilson, to its two cousins, UNS Peace and UNS Prosperity. These two sisters ships may have been smaller than the Wilson, but they were still large battleships. Together these three huge ships represented the start of Sykes’ dreams, they would be the vanguard of a new navy, the likes of which had never been seen before, and these ships would prove the usefulness of such a navy. These ships would crush all before him, so God help any that stood against the UN, and its megalomaniac leader.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-15, 08:50

June 20th 2080
White House - Austin, Texas



“Well, today, you will the J-3 Apocalypse SSM delivery system, the latest weapon from Freedom Arms. It will replace the outdated J-2 model.” The aide said, looking over today’s agenda.

Washington looked up. “I don’t have time for that demostation. Tell them that I need 100 mobile launchers capable of firing them first, missile are useless without the systems needed to deliver them. And if they can’t bring me that too, I don’t care.” He knew that Freedom Arms had a contract with several South African arms dealers who could also provide them with the vehicles needed, and he also knew that the U.S. could not afford to purchase the vehicles on their own.

The door opened at that moment, and Secretary of State Middleton strode into the room. “Nothing so far from the E.U.”

“You interrupted to tell me this?” Washington asked.

“Sorry, sir.” Middleton said.

“It’s fine. Tell them that if we need those weapons. Without them, we won’t be able to hold out against the U.N. should war break out, and if we can’t hold out, they won’t have a good chance of holding Quebec.”

“Yes, sir”

“Call in General Kurtz while you’re at it.”

Middleton left the room, and General Kurtz arrived a few minutes later. “Mr. President?”

“You were just in New Orleans. What’s the situation?”

“The U.N. feels like the city is theirs, for some ridiculous reason.” He shook his head. “The U.N. navy, our own proud battleships turned against us, might I add, initiated a bombardment of the city. We pulled the 8th light infantry out of the city, trying not to provoke a situation. But they used explosives to breach the levees and flood out sections of the city. The city swarmed with blue helmets by day’s end. They pulled out the next morning, saying they ‘eliminated domestic terrorists who plagued them’ we re-entered the burnt and flooded city the next day, but hundreds of civilians had been killed and much of the city is underwater.”



“Thank you for the report.” Washington said. “Move the carrier U.S.S. Liberty, the U.S.S. Redemption and the U.S.S. Lincoln and their supporting craft to try to get the U.N. ships to stand down their bombardment. I do not give you permission to engage however. We are not ready for war yet, and a bombardment of an almost abandoned city like New Orleans is not worth the loss of hundreds of thousands of lives.”

“Yes, sir.” He paused, and then said, “What if they open fire on our people?”

“Send a message to the White House, and use all resources at your command to defend our soil.”

Diplomatic transmission:

Dear President Langevin:
We need aid more than ever. The U.N. has escalated the war, attacking our border, with a massive naval attack on New Orleans. The situation looks grim. I beg for immediate support, in material and vehicles at the least, troops at best. Please, help us to reject the power of oppression that manifests itself as a false United Nations. We need this help more than ever.
Thank You,
Matt Washington, President of The United States of America


Last edited by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-15, 11:59; edited 1 time in total
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-15, 09:47

The battleplan for New Orleans (You cannot use knowladge of this at all - this is for the readers knowladge, to give them an idea of what is going to happen, not for characters. I don't want to see Kasey having a perfect counter to this. lol)

The Carrier U.S.S. Liberty will hold back with a bare minimum of supporting ships. It will launch fighters and fighter-bombers, which will secure the airspace above the U.S. position, prepared to attack in a snap. Fighters from the mainland will be ready to scramble at a moment’s notice, should the U.N. engage.

Patrol boats and supporting craft (corvettes, speedboats) from the U.S. navy will move into the Mississippi Sound, holding it, and also securing the Lake Pontchartrain and mining the areas which would be threatened by a U.N. naval attack.

The big guns of the U.S. navy, along with their cruisers will hold back, broadcasting a message, telling the U.N. to retreat. Submarines will move into position to fire torpedoes at the U.N. forces. Land based missiles will also be prepared to rain death down on the U.N. ships, particularly focusing on the carriers, as U.N. air superiority is the biggest threat to the U.S. fleet.

If the U.N. refuses to retreat, they will continue moving into position additional equipment, and the Admiral will explain that further bombardments of New Orleans will result in the U.S. forces attacking. Even if the U.N. doesn’t retreat, their position will be quickly made untenable by additional ships and missile batteries arriving on scene and additional mining will make the approach to New Orleans suicide. As more pressure is placed on the U.N., the situation will be re-evaluated, and a new decision made.

If the U.N. attacks any U.S. position, ship or the city, all fighters on the mainland will scramble to assist, and a full attack launched by all U.S. ships and fighters airborne. The idea is to do a large amount of damage quickly to the carriers first, removing U.N. air superiority, and then take out main battleships.


Last edited by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-15, 11:53; edited 1 time in total
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-03-15, 11:03

June 20 2080

Carl Hafner rubbed his eyes and focused them again on the big screen. A red and blue blur quickly took shape as a multitude of borders, fronts, divisions and orders. One thing was clear as the sum of all those little details: The European armies were losing ground faster than ever before. The past two days were like a tsunami on the sturdy shore that was the Central European front. Kaliningrad had fallen, so had Bucharest, and Russian armies were advancing in Poland, Hungary and Romania. The movement of most reserves to Sweden had made it difficult to patch holes in the defences of Central Europe, and now Europe was paying the price. As Hafner reviewed the dwindling blue areas encircled by red, he pondered that it was a heavy price indeed. But decisions had been made, contingency plans had been formulated, the risks had been calculated and it had been decided that the final outcome was worth those risks.
He looked at a clock on the wall. It was 1:00am. Time was up. Pierre was obviously not going to call to give a cancellation order.
“Air Marshal Drury, operation Pontus is a go. What is the air group’s status?”
“Eleven Vultures have infiltrated Eastern European airspace. The other four have been spotted and have turned back, including two of the dam-busters. We still have one dam-buster Vulture in position. We can proceed as planned, but the possibility of breaching the Dnieper dams is greatly reduced.”
Hafner thanked the air marshal and turned his attention back to the big screen. But his mind was momentarily elsewhere. If they lost the war... if it somehow all went wrong... They would be tried as war criminals. The devastation of infrastructure all across Ukraine and Belarus and the flooding of a large part of Ukraine would result in thousands of civilian casualties and tens of thousands of refugees. That would not be forgiven without a final victory, some way to excuse it all as a necessary step in a horrible war. It was too late to change the orders now. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Only Pierre had that authority at that point.
Forget Pierre. Carl might not have had the authority to cancel the whole operation unilaterally, but he could alter it according to the battlefield conditions.
“Air Marshal Drury!”
Drury turned to face him, while on the phone.
“Recall the dam-buster. It’s no longer worth the risk sending a single Vulture against the dams’ air defences”.

The big screen was mesmerising, with its psychedelic variations of colours. But he knew what everyone of those colours meant. There was no peace to be found in those smooth, colourful, changing patterns...

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

Pierre Langevin rubbed his eyes and reviewed his geopolitical situation. The UN was rustling its sabres at the USA as well as at Quebec. The EU’s policy of befriending the PSSA seemed to have been nullified by its new president, if that secret letter from his son was to be believed. The two first Foreign Legion regiments had been secretly deployed in Quebec and were assisting in the preparation of defensive works around Montreal. The great Murmansk Sunset offensive had put the deployment of the third regiment on hold, so if the UN did attack, they would have to make do without Cataphracts. The process of transporting those forces to North America in secret was complicated and expensive. Secretly transporting weapons to the USA appeared easier on paper, but that was before Sykes declared a vendetta on it. Cuba had to be used as a waypoint, and that entailed delicate negotiations and bribes. Nevertheless, the first crates of European ‘agricultural products’ should arrive in New Orleans soon, or in some Texan port should New Orleans prove unsafe.
It was all so exhausting... The private meetings with members of parliament to explain the situation with the riots and his response to Murmansk Sunset’s onslaught... He could not just say those things in parliament for everyone to hear. Everyone understood, but that didn’t make them go any easier on him...

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

“We have a message from general Aeropoulos”.
Hafner read it and frowned. “Haven’t the new orders to the commanders of our army groups reached them yet?”
“We’ve been having some satellite uplink problems. They should have been received by everyone by now”.
“Good. The 3rd will soon receive all the help it could wish for. God knows it needs it... Cyprus is a geographical extension of Asia Minor for the purposes of the Malta agreement, as interpreted by our analysts, so it is open for remilitarization. Tell Aeropoulos that he will be given command of its national guard once the government of Cyprus gets off its butt and completes the paperwork for the transfer of authority. I hear there are some there who have grown accustomed to being autonomous... Tell him also that there must be no deployment of bombers in Cyprus unless he receives new orders. We need everything we’ve got against the Russians right now.”

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-15, 13:39

Mindnight, June 20th

The fleet arrived, and with little trouble, set up in it's position. Mines were placed without major interference, but the U.N. bombardment did not cease, until a warning shot arched over the bow of the lead U.N. ship, after which it ceased.

Transmission to the U.N. command ship:

You will cease your attack on New Orleans now. We are not negotiating. Effective now, you have exactly 24 hours to withdraw from the area. Refusal to comply will be met with force.

Out.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Kasey on 2008-03-15, 15:39

There was silence in the bridge of the UNS Geneva. Admiral Longman cleared his throat,

“The UN will not back down to US aggression. Gentlemen let us give battle”

The silence in the room evaporated in an instant, one of the senior men aboard, Captain Payne asked the question every senior officer was thinking,

“But Admiral, the Secretary General gave direct orders to withdraw after the bombardment, especially if faced with other forces. Why are you countermanding his orders?”

Longman’s voice was steel, “ I am in command here, Captain. Not you. So you will do as I say, is that understood?” He glared at each man in turn, until they all nodded their agreement, “Good, this, gentlemen is my battle plan. The US can’t have much Infantry in that area, and although they obviously have some ships, I think we can take them on. But my main worry is land artillery. So we do this. The ships here will hold and attack the US’s ships. In the meantime I will land the companies of the 51st Paratroopers on the mainland. Their job is to capture the big guns, and aim them at the enemy ships. Understood? Then to your posts” there was a moment’s hesitation from the men, “NOW!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Major Wledysov was not happy. His men, 3 companies of the 51st Paratroopers, around 360 men, had been ordered to attack the Big AA and other artillery guns on the shore. The Admiral himself had assure Christopher Wledysov that there were no enemy troops in the region, yet Christopher’s instinct said that this would all end in defeat. But, ultimately, there was nothing he could do, his superior had ordered him to attack, and so he must.

He shook the thoughts out of his head, there was work to be doing, the Helicopters from the Geneva had landed him and his men, there was work to be getting on with, he jumped from the hovering helicopter, the last man off, and they flew away, into the dusk sky.

The men moved forward quickly and quietly, there may not have been many of them, but they were highly trained, and whatever doubts that afflicted their commander, did not bother the men, they were eager for the fight. They had been bored on the ships, and finally there was an opportunity for action. In the distance they could hear the steady shots from the ships, and much nearer, terrifyingly loud, the big guns opened up in front of them. But the Paratroopers went forward, ever forward towards the terrifying noise. Another huge ‘BOOM’ from the artillery, Wledysov looked around him, and was surprised to see men lying on the floor, screaming silently, still deafened, he looked ahead, and saw the bright flashes of light. Tracers whipped around him. As his hearing slowly returned he realised that all around him, chaos reined. His men were charging suicidely forwards, attacking the unseen soldiers in front of them. There was nothing he could do to stop them, so he charged with them, screaming incoherently, suddenly he felt something hit him in the shoulder, he span round and was thrown backwards by the force. He lay stunned on the floor, whilst around him the fight went on.

The Paratroopers had unwittingly attacked a US line of defence, placed around their guns by the apparently non-existent infantry; they were outnumbered, outgunned, and totally confused in the lowering darkness. But they still went forwards. Sprinting across the ground, with bullets whipping around them. Finally they reached the US lines, and the US troops pulled back from the enraged Paratroopers. But it wasn’t over for them yet. They were scattered across the edge of the high ground occupied by the Guns, being slowly hunted down by overwhelming US forces. Most of the Paratroopers attempted to flee back down the slope they had just climbed, but machine gunners, and US rifles mowed down most of them. The rest went to ground, holing up wherever they could find a hiding spot.

But Major Christopher Wladysov knew nothing of this; he was lying on the wet grass of the slope, slowly his mind slipped into unconsciousness. Then, he was woken up by the sound of men moving through the grass, his right arm was usless, but with his left, he slowly drew his pistol, he aimed it at where he heard the men coming from, and then fired a whole clip at them. His pistol fell silent, and suddenly a man sprinted up to him, and smashed him the face with his rifle butt,

“Got yer” the man said quietly.
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