2080 Story thread

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-15, 19:06

June 21st 2080
The Battle of New Orleans


The U.S.A.F. fighters and fighterbombers arrived again, after a brief flight back to the carrier to re-fuel. And the situation on the bridge was tense. The U.N. navy has just opened fire on them, and reports from the city stated that the 8th light infantry was under attack. Although they said they had beaten back the attack, the Admiral in charge of the U.S. navy, Michael Smith, was now assured that the U.N. would not fall back peacefully. He could wait no longer.

The forces are as follows:

2 main ships (minus the carrier) + (10 x 3) (escorts) = 32 U.S. main ships. Also, there are about 25 speedboats, minor craft, and minelayers, who are tasked with defending New Orleans, but could prove a factor in the overall battle too. Then, add in about five submarines.

32+25+5 = 62 U.S. ships in total. (many light ships) Then there are missile launchers on the shore and the fighters and fighter bombers from the carrier, and ones from the shore.

2 U.N. carriers, and 2 main ships.
The U.N. would have twice as many fighters, but the U.S. also has land based fighters and bombers who could get involved.

U.N. ships have ten escorts, that's 42 ships getting involved. They would probably also have about 10 supporting craft (like the light ships the U.S. has) and a similar number of submarines as the U.S. (5)

42+10+5 = 57 And, of course, the U.N.'s slightly larger number of fighters, (although that is probably made up for by the missiles the U.S. has) The U.N., however, has an advantage in that their ships are of better quailty. (The U.S. has many lighter ships, which will not do as much in the fight)

“Order the air force on a full attack.” He ordered. “Signal the fleet. You may engage the U.N. forces at will.”

“Aye, sir.” The communications officer on deck replied.

“Signal command. We have engaged the U.N.” He added as an afterthought.

The U.N. fighters launched minutes later, and the U.S. fighters now broke off to engage them, as the fighter bombers and sea attack units engaged the U.N. navy, swerving and firing off flares to counter enemy anti-air missiles.

But the U.N. fighters were less fortunate – they entered into a hailstorm. At about 1:00 A.M. (The attack had begun at dawn), a detachment of SAM launchers arrived on the scene, unbeknownst to the U.N., and opened fire on the aircraft, even as they still attempted to take off. Cruse missiles from the surface also targeted the carriers, and one struck the main runway, stranding half the U.N. fighters on deck, and causing many more to be lost.

The main destroyers on both sides targeted each other, but found themselves unprepared for the aerial attack from the mainly unhindered U.S. Air Force. Many U.N. destroyers were damaged, and their missile bays and main guns fell silent as the attacks took their toll. Cannon rounds pierced the decks and tore through the flesh of the crews. Bombs fell, igniting ammunition magazines, and sending up brilliant explosions.

Admiral Smith watched this all silently, on radar screen, and seeing the crimson fireballs on the horizon was almost… beautiful. It was warfare of the modern age at it’s finest. The Romans and the Greeks had it tough. They took their swords and spears and they had to meet the enemy – kill them while staring into their cold eyes, battle man to man. He, on the other hand, could kill thousands with a word. “Fire” he said. Then press a button, and sit back and watch the fireworks. Brilliant. So deadly, and yet filled with an oh-so-human beauty. There was something primeval in it, the ultimate perfection of war and of man killing his brother.

And at the end, they died. The U.N. naval forces were battered, having lost many ships, and with few of their vessels escaping unscathed. Their losses had not yet been estimated, but 15 vessels had been unable to retreat due to their damage, and 3 had been sunk. One of their carriers was heavily damaged; the other had lost many fighters, but was unscathed. Their remaining vessels had taken some damage, but nothing permanent – although without repairs, they would not be ready to fight again, with the exception of the one of the U.N. capital ships and two destroyers. Then, add in the loss of a whole paratrooper battalion and many fighters, and it was a true debacle for the U.N.

The U.S. losses had been less, but equally bad. Their carrier was undamaged, as were their land emplacements, for the most part, but 1 vessel had been sunk, and 10 rendered immobile (although the U.S. would, unlike the U.N. vessels which had to be abandoned, recover these boats and begin repairs). Of their support ships, which were not included in the last figure, 11 had been destroyed. The Lincoln had also taken damage, along with 7 other U.S. ships.

Despite all this, the U.S. did not have far to tow their boats and lick their wounds. The U.N. would have to tug their battered vessels all the way to Florida, and then to their much farther away naval drydocks and bases.

White House

Only a few minutes later, the President was notified of the results of the battle. Although he had kept up on latest news from throughout the night, he had just been informed of the results of the battle.

“Wow… I guess this means war then.” Secretary Simmit said. “It’s an auspicious start, at least. We beat them back from New Orleans. But we didn’t capitalize on it the way we should have.”

“Maybe not. But, perhaps we can use this as leverage to avoid conflict.” Washington said. “Although we just got a large arms shipment from the E.U., war would still prove disadvantageous, as long as the E.U. has not joined in war. It is said that war should be the last resort of diplomacy, but here, it must be even less than a last resort.”

“I agree.” Ramon said. “We must capitalize on this as a way to avoid war. You are correct in your assessment. A war at this point is essentially untenable for us, in the long term.”

Diplomatic Transmissions:


To the U.N. Secretary General:
We do not wish for a war with you at this time. The violence we committed against you was a response to your attack on New Orleans, which has caused great civilian loss of life and property damage. Then, your fleet, with paratrooper backing, attacked our navy, causing senseless violence. I ask for you to restrain your officers in the future, who may be overeager for battle, from attacking us again. You are a sensible man. Surely you can see that peace is in both of our interests and war will only lead to bloodshed for little gain.
Thank you,
Matthew Washington
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Kasey on 2008-03-16, 05:05

There was a plane waiting for Admiral Jacob Longman in Florida. Secretary General Sykes had sent the plane personally, and as soon as the battered, bruised and humiliated fleet limped into the Florida ports, their Admiral was marched off under the guard of Sykes’ most loyal troops, the Free Guard, an entire half company of them. They may have been expecting trouble, but Longman’s men were only too happy to see the Admiral arrested, after his debacle he had been hated by every crewman and officer in the small fleet.

==================================================

Jacob Longman climbed warily out of the black limo, his uniform was crumpled from the flight, and he was still disoriented. He was escorted through the main doors of the government buildings, to the Secretary General’s office. The men outside opened the doors for him, and then he was alone in the office. A side door opened and in strode Sykes.

“Ah, Admiral Longman, how nice to see you! I believe we have things to discuss?” he gestured to two armchairs in the office’s corner, “I have just one question for you, Admiral. Why did you engage?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “Why did you act against the express orders from San Francisco? Shall I remind you of your losses? An entire battalion of prime Paratroopers, 3 ships sunk, a carrier damaged almost beyond repair, 15 ships left at the sight of the engagement. Countless men, jets and helicopters. All of this lost, because you” he jabbed a finger angrily at Longman, “You, refused to obey my simple instructions. Now tell me why”

Longman gulped, he was a big man, but there was something very frightening about the small, slender Sykes that made him struggle for words, his mouth flapped like a fish, but still no words came out

Sykes sneered at him, “No defence Admiral? Nothing you wish to say? Fine, so be it. You are finished, Admiral. I am re-assigning you. You will now be a Captain at German Bay in Africa, I’m sure you’ve heard of it?” And so he had, German Bay was the most feared posting in the UN, it meant guarding the hated Prison Camp, Camp Absolution. But also disease was rife in the Bay, and the surrounding camp, about 75% of the men posted there died within the first 8 months.

The ex-Admiral’s mouth hung open, “B-But, sir” he stammered, but Sykes cut him off,

“You may leave, Captain” he said relishing the last word.

Wobbling slightly, the humiliated naval officer left the room.

Sykes climbed out of his armchair, and walked to the desk, now he had to sort this mess out, he thought grimly.

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

Message from Secretary General Sykes, to President Washington

Mr. ‘President’,

I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies for that debacle at New Orleans. The Admiral in charge of the fleet acted countermand to my express orders, so the engagement was not of my doing. He has been punished accordingly.

I would politely ask that all captured UN personnel are returned to our control, as for the equipment you captured, I would ask that you returned it to us as well, I will expect your correspondence soon.

Secretary General S. C. Sykes
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-16, 06:25

To Sykes:
Don't waste your time. An attack by the U.N. fleet has every reason to be treated as an attack by the U.N. We don't differentiate nor particularly care who ordered the attack or whose orders were disobeyed. You attacked. First New Orleans, a city now utterly flooded, where the vast majority of the city is under 3 feet of water. We took some losses too, and do not feel like it would be fair simply to let your men go. Hundreds died in New Orleans, and thousands are stranded. I hold you accountable for the damage to both the city and the fleet. We expect you to issue an apology, both for the losses at New Orleans, and the damage done to our armies and fleet. At such time as you do so, your crews and ships will be returned to you. Our congress and our people would rather send our armies across the Mississippi and engage your armies, but we would restrain them, as war is not the course which should be followed by intelligent and civilized peoples such as our own. If not, your ships will be kept and your men imprisoned as P.O.W.'s. There is no middle ground.
Matt Washington
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:14

June 20
22oohrs
Black Sea

OP BLINDING SHIELD

Intelligence Officer Ibrahim ibn Sinan rubbed his tired eyes, bloodshot from peering at the plasma screens for hours as patterns and dots danced across them. A plethora of symbols and colours denoted the barely controlled chaos spread out over nearly 1500km of front. In the vanguard was a wave of UAV’s carrying electronic and radar jamming devices, and dropping clouds of Radar and Infrared Disruptive Material (RIRDIM) over the Crimea and Southern Ukraine.

To the south, in the skies over Turkey and Iran, masses of aircraft assembled for the first wave of air attacks, led northwards by their “leads” – fighters equipped with electronic warfare pods.

The cabin was air-conditioned, but sweat still dripped from his brow in the claustrophobic and crowded compartment, the air was filled with unvoiced apprehension as people went about calmly and professionally orchestrating the most daring military operation in history.

He was in an AWAC, currently maintaining station over the Black Sea, and directing the movements of Army Group West, which in a few short hours would be making it’s first landfall on the shores of the Crimean peninsula and the Sea of Azov. In conjunction with Army Group Centre and, in far away Azerbaijan, Army Group East, they would carry out Operation ‘Righteous Blade’, the final part of a three-stage invasion of Russia. Currently, however, he was concentrating on Operation ‘Blinding Shield’, the plan to blind Russian defences for up to 72hrs and annihilate it’s air defence capabilities at the outset of hostilities.

It had to be successful, the thought of Russian aircraft launching major attacks against the invasion fleet as it manoeuvred in the small and shallow Sea of Azov made him cringe, they’d be like sitting ducks. It was why this part of the operation had to go off without a hitch, hopefully Operation ‘Silent Blade’ – the deception – had been successful and the Russians would be caught completely off-guard, but it’s success or failure could not be known for at least a few more hours. So far, at least, they had not stirred…

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:15

June 21
0100hrs
Crimea

OP BLINDING SHIELD

The EAIO Barq-6LR sixth generation ground-attack fighter* sliced through the upper atmosphere at Mach 2, part of a formation of 16 planes tasked with the attack on Sevastopol Naval Aerodrome. Similar strike forces were speeding towards targets all across the southern Ukraine, striking at anything from airbases to SAM defence batteries and land-based surface-to-surface missile platforms.

In the cockpit Flight Captain al-Zahrawi scanned his control screens for signs of enemy action, but so far nothing – apparently the Russians had been caught sleeping. Ahead he could make out moonlight glinting on the EAIO Barq-4EW, which was even now transmitting jamming signals towards the enemy SAM installations down below. They’d have detected that something was amiss by now, and were likely already scrambling planes, no matter since they’d be over the target in under two mins, and they wouldn’t be able to see what was hitting them until it was too late.

“Charlie eight, this is flight leader, will lead forward element attack on enemy SAM positions, all weapons armed…” the voice crackled over the comm. system.

“Roger Charlie one,” replied al-Zahrawi, checking the time – 0113hrs – right on time, “will commence attack on the airfield in two minutes,” he switched his comm. to the second element, “preparing to attack, arm all weapons and follow my lead.”

In front of his plane he could see the flares of the afterburners as the lead element gunned their engines and entered the attack angle, pulling quickly away from second element. He scanned the targets on his screen, assigning different objectives to the various aircraft which would attack with missiles and bombs, raining fire on the hapless base.

“Second element, bank left 45 degrees,” he called out over the comm., and executing a neat turn, he peered over his wing towards the sleeping city of Sevastopol, an intricate pattern of lights over jumbled hills divided by a black void of water. Another strike force was likely on it’s way to attack any ships of the Black Sea fleet which lay at anchor. Suddenly sharp pin-pricks of light erupted silently to the south of the city, SAM batteries being pinpointed and eliminated. Manually controlled AA guns began spraying tracers randomly into the night sky. At least they’d be too distracted to notice us, he mused.

“Second element, attack formation, arm weapons and commence attack,” he ordered, after a few seconds he banked towards the target and turned on his afterburners, causing the plane to leap forward. He waited until they were several kilometres out, and then ordered the element to engage at will, before launching his own air-to-surface missiles against the base.

Glowing streams of fire erupted from the formation, speeding forward into the night sky. Seconds later they erupted amidst the parked and taxiing aircraft, whose fuel and payloads exploded, sending flames and debris dozens of metres into the sky, and turning the night into hellish day. al-Zahrawi smiled grimly, all is fair in war, he repeated to himself to forget the fellow airmen burning to death in their cockpits as their planes burst into flames – to die on the ground was an airman’s worst nightmare.

After that it became a shooting gallery, as aircraft circled the field strafing anything that moved. In the fierce orange light he could make out men running frantically about the field, desperately trying to put out the fires, all the while under heavy attack – you had to feel for those valiant men. occasionally some tracers arced across the sky, but without radar guidance it was as good as useless.

By 0136hrs the attack was over, and they turned for base – to re-arm and attack another target. Behind them the sky glowed fiercely from the fires that raged around the base, illuminating the underside of the black cloud which roiled across the sky. Even as they left another strike force had begun attacking targets in Sevastopol Harbour, one ship had gone up like a firecracker, filling the bay with light and spewing flaming oil over the bay.

“Mission accomplished,” announced the flight leader. al-Zahrawi smiled, but inside he felt like he had just perpetrated a great crime, he felt deeply dishonoured.

At 0320hrs they neared the north coast of Turkey, the eastern horizon already glowing with the light of false dawn. All along the coast long range missile batteries launched salvo after salvo towards targets to the north, the glowing pinpoints of light arching across the sky seemed almost beautiful from this vantage.

He switched the transponder to his home base, “Trabzon Airfield, request vector for landing…”

*EAIO Barq-6LR – stands for Emirates Aviation Industries Organization (the main military aviation conglomerate of the Khalifat). The plane is a “Lightning”-6, Long-Range sixth generation fighter. The Barq-4 is an earlier model.


Last edited by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:52; edited 1 time in total

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:15

June 21
0148hrs
Sea of Azov

OP RIGHTEOUS SWORD

Lieutenant Ahmad ibn Majid peered out of the narrow window of the EAIO al-Najma transport aircraft as it made a low altitude pass over the Sea of Azov. Down below moonlight shimmered off hundreds of white streaks cutting across the black water as the invasion fleet made it’s way northwards.

The Khalif Airborne Regiment had been tasked with carrying out the first ground operations against Russia, and four major landings were taking place in conjunction with ‘Righteous Sword’. They were to secure the airfields and dockyard facilities of Mariupol, Taganrog, and Rostov-on-Don. His detachment was to take part in the capture of Taganrog airfield, a minor airstrip which was mostly used as a hub for military air transport, and should – if intel was correct – be almost undefended.

After securing the base and overseeing the landings of reinforcements – nearly a third of the initial strike-force was to be brought in by military transport – he was to be deployed in the northwards assault as the commanders of Army Group West saw fit.

He checked his watch, 0153hrs, he looked out of the porthole again, and could just make out the narrow band of breaking surf that denoted the shoreline. So they were now officially over Russian soil, and right on schedule too. The plane banked right and began to descend to drop altitude, flying parallel to the shore towards the landing zone in the fields west of Taganrog. If all went according to plan the aerial strike forces would have already struck, devastating the SAM sites and AA batteries so that they would have a safe drop. If not, they’d be sitting ducks and their transports would be blasted out of the sky…

He cast one last glance out the porthole, northwards now, towards the drifting clouds of RIRDIM falling down towards the ground in shimmering cascades, glinting like powdered diamond in the cold moonlight. It was a shield against the anti-air defences deployed further inland, a main component of the ‘Blinding Shield’ which would render the Sea of Azov a Khalifat lake for at least the next 72hrs.

But now it was time for the drop, and he ordered his men, drenched with the scent of fear and apprehension, to prepare for it. After a final check-up, the orange light flickered on and the rear doors of the plane began to open up, filling the cabin with a loud roar which washed away voices – from here on in all communication would be by hand and touch signals.

The plane made some final corrective banks and then steadied, slowing down noticeably. Then the green light flashed on, and with that the first paratroopers instinctively leapt into the dark abyss – it was necessary to drop quickly lest they pass out of the drop zone. When it came to ibn Majid, he assumed the jump position and quickly leapt into the void without thinking, only after he felt the sharp tug of his chute auto-deploying did he take a breath and cast his eyes about, first checking his chute and then peering down onto the gently approaching landscape.

To the north the moonlight glinted off a large lake, it’s shore lined with the light of small villages. Eastwards lay the target: Taganrog airfield, and beyond that the twinkling pattern of lights that marked Taganrog itself. From this vantage he could see the flickering orange glow and roiling smoke which denoted the burning SAM sites and AA guns, occasionally a stricken Russian transport plane would burst tongues of flame as it’s fuel tanks caught sequentially. Sporadic and ineffective fire from a single AA gun fired at the passing transports, but none of them seemed to get hit.

At this point his attention was drawn to the rapidly approaching ground, he carefully manoeuvred his parachute towards an empty patch of field and gently touched down – a perfect landing.

He assembled his men, all ready and accounted for, at the circular intersection that had been their pre-determined assembly point. Not having experienced any enemy resistance thus far, they moved silently along the road which would take them – 6km on – to their target. If all went according to plan, and so far it had, the airfield would be in their hands and ready to accept transports by 0400hrs…


Last edited by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:59; edited 2 times in total

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:17

June 21
0430hrs
Svitlovodsk

OP BLINDING SHIELD

The fiery glow of sunrise was just beginning to evaporate the dusky blue of false dawn when Jabir ibn Aflah peered east from his hidden position on the hills overlooking the Dnieper valley and the Svitlovodsk dam. From here, using his high powered binoculars, he could get a clear view of the dam and the city of Kremenchug, which lay sleeping on the pluvial flats below.

Just last night he had rigged an array of targeted high-explosives along the south face of the hydro-electric dam, below the surface to avoid detection and achieve the greatest amount of damage. These were remote-controlled, and could be operated from a safe distance. In addition, part two of his plan called for suicide bombers – there were always some Chechens around willing to blow themselves up for freedom – to sail small boats packed with high explosives into the south face.

Currently he was more than a little vexed, since they were supposed to have hit the dam more than 30 minutes ago, but he had as yet seen no sign of them. This was always the trouble when you worked with mercenaries – so much bravado and maniacal fervour, so little professionalism! Theoretically the charges he had set should be able to knock out the dam, but he wanted to be sure – quite a lot of work had gone into this operation, and so much was riding on his shoulders.

He turned to his silent companion hidden in the dew covered foliage, “do you see any sign of them yet?” he whispered agitated.

“No, nothing…blasted fools, I told you we should rely on professional tactics, not cowboys,” he whispered back.

He looked back towards the river, if they didn’t show up within 15 minutes he would have no choice but to blow the charges and pray it was enough to knock out the dam. If it worked he would have front row seats to part of the most daring sabotage operation in history – the destruction of the Dnieper dam system. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the hapless civilians who would be washed away in the great surge of water, but 30 years in the secret and special services had hardened him against such feelings.

He checked his watch, and with a sigh peered through his binoculars, sweeping the still valley below – then he saw them. Speeding swiftly up the gently flowing river were four heavily laden motor boats, darting here and there as they dodged slowly drifting barges and ferries. The blast of a fog horn echoed out across the mist draped valley, just do it you fools, thought Jabir, stop messing about and just hit the bloody thing before everyone wakes up and realizes what’s happening.

At last they came upon the dam, and slammed into it almost simultaneously, double redundant contact and manual fuses setting off 20 tons of high explosive as he flipped the switches to activate the underwater charges. A massive fireball erupted from the dam, followed an instant later by walls of cascading white as the water was ejected from the surface of the reinforced concrete wall.

Already he could see that the structure was failing, as cracks appeared to spread across the sheer face of the dam a fast torrent of water could be seen surging out of some subsurface opening. Suddenly, after what seemed a few minutes of aching uncertainty, the structure of the dam suddenly crumbled and collapsed into the surging current, which now rushed uncontrolled into the flat plain. The greater part of the dam – the earthen embankment to the east – held for now, though erosion would slowly wash it away, but the concrete structure had completely collapsed.

As the sun broke over the far horizon, and the city below at last seemed to waken – from here he could hear the faint sound of wailing sirens – the flood waters surged over the rivers banks, washing away trees and houses and tossing about tugs and barges like toys. Soon it hit a bend in the river, and washed over the shallow marshes and low islands, before hitting Kremenchug with the full force of it’s raging current.

Jabir watched in awe as the waters crashed against the buildings and swept through the city streets, carrying away anything that was not secured. Cars tumbled about in the swell, as trees were uprooted and wooden buildings came apart like matchstick houses, the churches collapsed spectacularly, their golden onion domes imploding gracefully as the structure below was carried away.

“God help them,” sighed his companion, and he too offered a silent prayer for those caught in the flood waters. Within hours they will have raced the 112km to the Kurilovka dam downstream, which by now had hopefully also been demolished, and the entire system would collapse. The roaring waters of the Dnieper had been set free, and now had their revenge on those who had shackled it, thousands would perish as whole cities were wiped out.

With a sigh Jabir turned away from the awesome sight, “we should leave now, they wont be looking for us, but I want to get away from here before things get really dicey.”

His companion nodded in silent agreement, and the two bundled their equipment into the ancient LADA Priora sedan, before quickly vanishing into the early morning gloom.

Since this little .... misunderstanding has been dealt with, i shall erase it Smile

edit- gosh, i was hoping for a blue smilie Sad


Last edited by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-19, 03:48; edited 7 times in total

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Re: 2080 Story thread

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

June 21
0530hrs
Mariupol Harbour

OP RIGHTEOUS SWORD

The ferry chugged steadily northwards through night dark water, leaving a gash of white across the tepid surface. It was low in the water as a result of the twelve battle tanks that it carried on it’s car deck, as did the three other ferries following in its wake. It’s horn blasted across the busy seas, welcoming the sun as it broke over the horizon, gold bars lancing across the sky.

al-Walid stood alone on the foredeck as the sea breeze braced his ailing constitution, glancing around at the awesome sight of the advancing invasion armada. All through the night they had been gathering, lights twinkling off in the distance, while the occasional corvette or ferry darted within visual range. Finally, with the sun up, he could see the vast array of ships scattered about the sea as they made their way towards Mariupol.

There were warships and freighters and ferries of every description, and it all looked magnificent in the warm dawn glow. In the skies above sunlight glinted of dozens of aircraft as they gyrated across the firmaments, and even higher the lightening blue was criss-crossed by hundreds of white trails. Even now the air reverberated with the sound of rumbling engines, and the sight filled him with a sense of awe and purpose – surely nothing could stand in the way of such a force?

Directly ahead of them lay the port of Mariupol, already largely in their hands, and the port and rail facilities had been captured intact by the paratroopers. To the east the sun glanced off earthen cliffs that rose sharply from the shore, and behind the port itself treed residential areas rose up sharply from the flat shore into rambling hills beyond.

Infantry regiments from the specifically designed amphibious assault ships had been landing for at least an hour, while as he watched transport planes passed low overhead – dropping their cargoes at Mariupol airport. Helicopters darted across the skies like nervous bees, adding to the sense of frenetic energy.

As the ship neared the harbour entrance he tore himself away from the spectacle before him and went down into the bowels of the ship where his command passed the time in the cafeteria. He’d briefed them two hours ago, and had spent a long time going over the mechanical checklist for his tank – nothing could go wrong.

He entered the room, and his men rose from their various attitudes of rest and saluted. “Well men,” he said acknowledging, “this is it, when we land on that shore remember this is no longer a training exercise, we are fighting for our honour and for the greatness of Allah – may none of you disappoint!”

“Allahu Akbar!!” cheered his men, before running off to their tanks.

He moved quickly after them to his own tank, which his engineer and co-crewmember Hossayn had already started, the deep rumble of the idling engine vibrating his insides. Climbing into the forward crew compartment he gave Hossayn a grin, “so eager to be in battle?”

The young engineer smiled back, “perhaps, though perhaps I also wanted to avoid a tanning for not having your tank warmed up the way you like…”

al-Walid gave a short chuckle, and inhaled deeply – feeling at home amidst the scent of gasoline and sweat. “Well, Insh’allah we shall survive this great test…”

The tank lurched as the ferry bumped against the dock pylons, and through the heavy metal armour he could hear the whine of the doors lowering. He pulled himself halfway out of the hatch and waited for the green light, which flashed on after a few seconds. “Let’s be off this infernal boat,” he called down to Hossayn, and moments later the tank gunned forward and down the ramp onto the busy docks…

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Re: 2080 Story thread

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

June 21
0545hrs
Baku

OP RIGHTEOUS SWORD

The underground bunker smelled of stale sweat and qawha, the plasma screens casting a flickering and ethereal glow against the bare concrete. There was little noise, but the whirring of computer fans, the quiet staccato of keyboards, and the whispering voices of the various comms officers.

General Abbas sat back in his padded chair and watched the screens tensely, for the next few hours there was little he could do but watch and pray. Short minutes before a preliminary barrage of conventional and rocket artillery had pounded the Russian positions in the hills of Dagestan, hopefully with enough strength to tear apart what fortifications they had and break apart the enemy formations.

Even now thousands of tanks, with mechanized infantry in close support, were pouring across the border into Russian territory, while aircraft and attack helicopters flew overhead attacking targets of opportunity. From intel reports, the Russians should have very few forces deployed along the border, and the tank forces would, after breaking through the initial resistance, be able to strike unopposed to the port of Makhachkala.

There they’d link up with the amphibious landings that would happen tomorrow morning on the beaches to the north of the city. Hopefully within 48hrs Army Group East will have broken out of the hilly and difficult terrain of Dagestan and his armoured divisions would be racing across open country towards Volgograd.

If his intel was correct, if what forces were deployed evaporated under the sustained assault. The rocky, wooded hills of Dagestan were a tank commanders nightmare, Abbas prayed that Russian forces would not get them bogged down there. Once on the open terrain to the north of the mighty Caucasus his tanks would be unstoppable, but not until then…

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:19

June 21
0615hrs
Sinop

Mustafa dozed fitfully on the divan, having drifted off to sleep short minutes ago as the sun began streaming through the high bedroom windows. He’d spent the last 12 hours in the command room overseeing the massive and far-flung operations; most of it had just been watching with apprehension as new information came in, constantly afraid that some calamity would befall a key element of the invasion force. When he’d retired an hour ago, everything had been proceeding on schedule and without a hitch.

Halil entered the room silently and gently shook him awake.

“What is it,” asked Mustafa, jumping up in alarm, “has something happened?”

Halil smiled reassuringly, “no, nothing bad at least; the Generals Staff just released this communiqué though,” he handed Mustafa a small strip of paper, “all elements report that they have achieved complete surprise, and everything is on schedule.”

Mustafa read over the report quickly, “good, that’s very good,” he said distractedly as he read, “casualties?”

“Very light,” responded Halil quickly, “apparently the Russians were taken completely by surprise, and we overwhelmed what little defences they had with sheer concentration of force,” he paused, “of course we took some losses. There were a few accidents in the dark, one minesweeper an aground, three transport planes were lost to anti-aircraft fire over Rostov…” his voice trailed off.

“Yes, all very minor,” Mustafa grinned, “the most dangerous part has passed, but now the struggle begins…”

“Your great gamble has paid off, we are now in an enviable position,” said Halil, “though only three things in life are certain,” he peered at his friend, “sleep for now, there is nothing for you to do now, and you shall need your rest.”

“Yes,” replied Mustafa drowsily, “wake me if there is anything pressing.”

“Of course, ya-Sayyid,”

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-03-18, 03:23

Here is a map of the situation at 1200hrs June 21:



black trianges = amphibious landing points
red bursts = sabotage/strategic bombing targets
grey lines = denote the command areas of the three army groups

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-18, 14:00

The Kremlin , late June 22nd

Betrayal.

The Caliph’s words were all lies, and he had played Saratov for his own scheming, manipulative reasons. It had been a day since the Caliph’s army had smashed across the Black Sea, devastating the few Russian soldiers who stood to defend themselves. The Russian army was in full retreat in the south, and more bad news came in every minute.

“So, what is the damage report for the Dnieper?” Saratov asked Yuri. On the various T.V.’s, the muted sound of artillery fire could be heard. Every second, the Caliphate advanced further into Russia. And it seemed Murmansk Sunset had come to an end.

“Not as bad as it could have been. The dam they hit did not damage Kiev’s many nuclear facilities, and failed to cause a catastraphic failure. Civilian casualties were nowhere near as high as they could have been. In fact, we dodged a huge bullet. Most of Ukraine is still intact. The areas hit were largely depopulated anyways, like much of Ukraine. Nothing we can’t repair once this war ends. But, that cut off a key line of retreat for our armies. It will take far too long to pull back our forces from that front.”

“How long until the Eastern Armies arrive to defend Moscow?” Dedenko asked.

“Twenty days at best.” Yuri said.

"The plan is to roll in from the side and smash your one flank. Troops from the north and Saratovgrad will stall the forward advance long enough for troops from the west to roll in and envelop your attack. The E.U. will be stalled by a missile barrage at the same time, damaging key command-and-control posts. And anyways, enough troops will remain to keep the E.U. from making too much progress." Dedenko said.

"Perhaps it will work better than your last plan, Dedenko?" Saratov said lightly, laughing at his own joke.

Dedenko cursed. He had been in a rage since the Caliph’s betrayal. His entire plan, one so brilliantly orchastrated, had fallen utterly apart. He, better than anyone in the room, could see it’s failure. And he no longer had the favor of Saratov and Yuri, who tried to blame him for the failures of Russian policy.

“There is one thing we can do.” Saratov mused. “Operation Mindful Rage.”

Yuri was shocked. “You’re going defeatist already? There is still hope, isn’t there?”

Dedenko yelled, “No! Are you kidding me? We’re lost!”

Saratov scowled. “Dedenko, do you have anything worthwhile to say? No? Then leave. This doesn’t concern you.”

He walked away, muttering under his breath.

“It’s a percaution. Move all files to the Kamchatka base. Pull the Siberian Tigers out of combat and send them down there. Ready a plane. We will still be operational. But this way, we won’t be paralized if they advances any closer to Moscow, and we have an escape route. Begin laundering funds into our accounts in the O.P.S.C. and P.S.S.A. You know what to do.”

“What do you want to do with Dedenko?” Yuri asked.

“He’s outlived his usefulness, but he still is loyal. Have him command the defense of Murmansk Sunset. In other words, surrender as soon as they get to the capital, if they get that far. If we turn them back, then this was all pointless. Also, leave a Siberian Tiger in the city to kill him after he surrenders.” He scanned the papers. “We’re not beaten. Thanks to your underground connections, we still control the energy market for the forseeable future, and our web of spies will hold real power in Russia, no matter how badly we’re beaten.”

“I still think this is all a bit defeatist.” He replied.

Saratov chuckled. “Tell that to Dedenko.” He laughed. “No. Face it. We can barely fight the E.U. back. There’s no way the Caliphate and E.U. could be stopped by us. No matter how long it takes, we’d lose in the end. And I don’t want to see anymore distruction come to Russia.”
“I guess.” Yuri replied.

“Look on the bright side. Even if Murmansk Sunset falls, we’ll be on a tropical vacation. Check out this letter.” He pulled the letter out of his pocket. “Nice place, aye? Our new home… Thank you Noriega!”

And so, as the Caliph’s armies advanced deep into Russia, Nikoli and Yuri packed their bags… With every passing second, the fate of Murmansk Sunset as a nation seemed more and more doubtful. But, they were still powerful…

*None of the other world leaders, besides the P.S.S.A. know about this. That will stay that way. Secret information, for the readers, not for your greedy eyes, fellow writers.*


Last edited by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-20, 04:33; edited 2 times in total
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-18, 14:13

Offical Diplomatic Transmission to P.S.S.A.

Sadly, Murmansk Sunset lacks the ability to help you at the moment, and frankly can see no economic benefit to an alliance at this time. Your demands are far too great and the benefits for our people far too small. After all, we doubt you could help us militarily.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-21, 19:00

Total Active combat soldiers:
150,000 regular infantry
200,000 army reservists
25,000 marines
An unknown number of U.S. contracted freedom fighters, estimated in the 50,000’s

The U.S. army has undergone tremendous shifts from what it was in the past, caused by three major events – the great crash, service as the U.N. disease prevention army, and the U.N. takeover.

The first limited the army technologically, causing a catastrophic failure in the size of an army which the U.S .could afford – much of it was scrapped. The second made the U.S. army into a force which hardly saw active combat, and if it did, had to deal only with insurgency. The second scattered the army and allowed it to degrade into a force hardly prepared for active combat, due to the effects of the plague and general U.N. mismanagement and the ineffectiveness of U.S. government. The third led to the re-incarnation of the U.S. army.

After the disastrous breakup of the U.S., the remaining loyal units were usually very under strength, beaten and demoralized. U.S.S.O.C.O.M. was all but destroyed. The U.S. navy was either U.N. or in mothballs. Freedom fighters were what held the remaining states together.

The next president, Jacob Howard, was an administrative genius, luckily for the shattered and now quite fragile nation. The last President, the hardliner who had caused the U.N. takeover in the first place, had managed to become only U.S. President ever to be captured in battle. (Although he was later released under house arrest, the nation’s prestige was thrown right out the window.) The nation was in ruins, but somehow, he established two lines: One at the Mississippi river, the other at the Rockies. He first established order in these two areas, creating an army that could actually fight back against the U.N. forces, who were comparatively much better equipped, led, and organized.

The U.S. army is rather large for the region it has to support it – indeed; it can only be maintained at crippling cost when fully mustered. In January of 2080, the reserves were mobilized in a phased mobilization of every soldier that the U.S. can muster to its defense, due to increasing tensions. All U.S. produced oil was prioritized – the army must be supplied before the citizens, driving up the cost, but not dangerously – yet.

The U.S. army is grouped into divisions, like every army, with a slight numerical advantage towards the East Coast, as the Rockies are believed to be more defensible than the Mississippi.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-03-22, 07:42

25,000 Marines

The U.S. Marines have changed dramatically from the force they were in 2008 to the force they are in 2080.

In the aftermath of the great crash and U.N. takeover, the Marines prided themselves as one of the last defenders of freedom. When U.S.S.O.C.O.M. was destroyed in the abortive battle for Washington D.C., the Marines escaped the carnage and holed up in the Midwest with the freedom fighters, something which may well have saved the organization.

The current base of operations for the Marines is Austin TX, the fortified capital of the United States. Their job is primarily defense of the Gulf Coast of Texas, as key job as the industrial centers and oil production in Texas make it a key area of the U.S., one which cannot fall.

150,000 Regular Soldiers (S), and 200,000 Reservists (R) (now deployed) 50,000 Contracted Freedom fighters (C)

50,000 (S) 50,000 (R) 20,000 (C) Army group North

Army Group north is responsible for Montana, Minnesota, and Illinois

60,000 (S) 70,000 (R) 30,000 (C) Army group East

Army Group East is responsible for all Eastern borders not under Army Group North, such as the Mississippi River and Missouri River

40,000 (S) 80,000 (R) Army group West

Army Group West is responsible for the Rocky Mt. Passes and El Paso
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Aeraaa on 2008-03-24, 10:12

General Aeropoulos was inside the War Room with the rest of his staff. He seem much more optimistic now that the Khaliphate’s army has opened a second front for Murmansk Sunset. All he needed to do now is to go on the offensive too.

-Gentlemen. The Islamic Khaliphate has done to us a huge favour. Their invasion of Ukraine stalled the Russian offensive towards us. Now is the time to strike. The strategic command has authorized me to use the missile weapons of satellite Ares to gain a strategic advantage. It’s EMP missiles should disable any electronic defenses, meaning air strikes will encounter minimum opposition. I have already given the coordinates for the targets of the missiles, now all we have to do is wait.
-Excellent sir, what is the plan next?
-Next, we will attack on the whole of Bulgarian front to push the Russians back on the north side of the Danube. Then the elements of the 10th armored brigade together with units of the 2nd Army Group will attack the rear of the Russian army in Romania, to envelop their forces. If the operation succeeds, we will be safe from future attacks from the forces of Murmansk Sunset. Our forces must strike fast and hard. Send the orders to the commanders of all units. And don’t forget our motto: Either conquer or die!
-Yes sir!
There was an aura of enthusiasm in the room and the morale was high, for fortune seemed to turn in their favour. Everyone was eager to do his best.

The EMP strikes have weakened the anti aircraft defenses of the Murmansk Sunset and made it easier for the EU air force to operate. And they were ruthless. Massive aerial bombardments with cluster bombs, thermobaric bombs and fragmentation ordnance rained into the mechanized divisions of Murmansk Sunset, devastating them and leaving huge piles of wreckages and corpses in their place. Not even in WW2 had Europe seen such carnage in a single day. The next day, the ground offensive begun. Large columns of main battle tanks, tank destroyers, IFV’s and mobile artillery, supported by mechanized infantry attacked the whole Russian line which, being already severely weakened crumbled almost instantly. Only small pockets of resistance were left, which would be easy to eliminate. To add to this, the 10th armored, supported by infantry and artillery from the 2nd Army Group, assaulted the rear of the Russian Army in Romania, and managed to make a breakthrough. The port of Costanza, which was defended against 3 consecutive attacks by a regiment of paratroopers and small leftovers of the 85th mechanized, was relieved at last. The trapped Russian forces were now inside a small area including Bucharest, eastern Transylvanian alps and the town of Ploesti.

Corporal Lucau was leading a squad of 8 men. He was a French paratrooper, of Congolese descent. His regiment was transferred by helicopters flying low over the Black Sea, into the besieged city of Constanza. Having lost just 1 helicopter, the operation was a success. They have enhanced the firepower of the much weakened 85th mechanized division, which was ready to fall in about 5 days. 3 different offensives were mounted by the Russians to conquer the city, but thanks to the efforts of these soldiers, the city remained in EU hands. Now he and his squad were to occupy defensive positions on the outskirts of the city and watch for enemy activity. The squad was comprised of the squad leader (Lucau), a machinegunner, a designated marksman, two anti-tank soldiers and 3 riflemen. The squad passed the wreckage of a BMP-5 armored personnel carrier. The carbonized body of the driver protruted from the escape hatch of the vehicle. Private McAllister commented:
-Hey! That’s the bastard I nailed yesterday with my rocket!

There was no reply. The squad continued its way.

They soon arrived in a suburb, consisting of 8 ruined buildings, lots of craters from artillery and an empty square in the center. Lucau told the squad’s designated marksman:

-Bernard, scan the two buildings ahead of us.

The marksman scouted the area with the scope of his rifle. After a few minutes, he told to Lucau:

-All clear.

Then Lucau told in a loud voice:

-Today!

A reply came from the building just opposite of them

-Victory day!

-OK men, let’s go, Lucau told.

Soon they went into the building the reply came. Sergeant Nilsson together with other paratroopers was inside.

-Greetings corporal. It has been 4 quiet hours so long. Hope you have as well in your guard.

-Thank you, sergeant. Have a nice rest.

The 4 paratroopers and 4 more from the nearby buildings. Left the area. Then Lucau gave his orders.

-Bernard, go into that tall building nearby. McAllister and Fotiadis, go into that crater hole in front of us. Frick and Johnson, to the crater hole over there. Shannon and Lemois, on the second floor of this building.

The men went into their positions. After an hour, the sound of tracks could be remotely heard. McAllister told to Fotiadis:

-Here they come mate! and he grabbed his anti-tank rocket launcher

Into the building where Lucau was, Shannon was loading ammunition into his EAS SLSW machinegun. Everybody was anxious.
Suddenly, dust was beginning to lift in the air from the small hill ahead of the paratroopers. Everyone was ready. The usual procedure was for the two anti-tank operators to fire their rockets at the first vehicle and then displace and report status to the HQ. Then a more organized resistance could be mounted. But then, when the turret of the tank was visible, Bernard reported:

-I have a blue tank on sight, repeat a blue tank on sight!

That was. The first of a platoon of 3 Cataphract tanks was now entirely visible. Lucau said:

-That’s it, men. We’re saved!
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-04-04, 17:31

22 June 2080

Euronews – A New Ally.

“Good evening. I am Nicholas Hague”
“And I am Anna Siedliska”
“People all across Europe are rejoicing as news is spreading of the entry of the Azharid Khalifat in the war on Europe’s side. It is reported that the Khalifat has invaded Russia from the Caucasus, in parallel with an amphibious assault in Ukraine. Will this herald the end of the long war against Murmansk Sunset? Our analysts are standing by to give their perspectives on what this will really mean for Europe, both now and in the future.”
“But first let’s go to London, where president Langevin is making a speech in the European Parliament.”


“My fellow Europeans. As you are by now all aware, Europe’s diplomatic war, no less intricate or effective that our actual war, has gained us a great victory. Thanks to our efforts, the Azharid Khalifat is now in open war with our enemies. This move is not an opportunistic gesture on their behalf. It is not an attempt to gain some superficial advantage from Murmansk Sunset in exchange for a peace settlement. Europe and the Khalifat are in a military alliance, whose goal is no other than the dissolution of Murmansk Sunset, and the bringing of peace to Europe and the extended territories of Asiatic Russia. We will not shirk from pursuing that goal to its bloody end, no matter the dangers that may appear formidable. For we now stand together and our enemy is exhausted while we are still fresh.

Europe has feared much these past few weeks. The Murmansk Sunset offensive reached deep within our territories, and it reached so audaciously. But our army’s response was predetermined to bring about the conditions for this final outcome. The Russian front is overextended, its support lines are fragile and its rear will soon fall to the coordinated attacks of Europe and the Azharid Khalifat. Murmansk Sunset has had its last glimmer of hope, and it was a glimmer we allowed to ensure its destruction. As we speak now, the 1st and 3rd Army Groups are counterattacking throughout Finland and Romania, in a pincer movement that will bring Eastern Europe under our control.

For nine long years we have persevered in the long struggle for freedom. Now, we can finally say ‘This is it! This is our final push to victory!' Our valiant dead of those past nine years look down upon our actions now; upon the justification of their struggles and sacrifices. Now is the time to push to the heart of the beast and end this war! We will not slow down, we will not rest in the comfort of our newly-forged alliance, we will not give our enemy time to reorganize. We move as one, and our momentum is unstoppable!

To ensure the sustaining of that momentum in these historic, final days, I ask for an emergency increase in budget allocation towards the military. Nothing can profit us more than a rapid victory, and no means should be spared to delay that victory for even a day!”


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

Admiral Claudia de Vries was reading her orders on the bridge of the carrier EUS Indomitable, flagship of the 2nd Oceanic Fleet, presently in port in Cadiz, Spain. The two Oceanic Fleets were a relic of the time the European Union had sought to extend its military influence across the planet’s oceans; a time before the long continental war with Russia’s revitalized armies. Now the 1st Fleet, led by the carrier EUS Invincible, was supporting the operations in Scandinavia, while the Baltic Fleet and the Mediterranean Fleet were where most of the funding went, and where most of the expectations rested. The 2nd fleet was tasked with keeping Europe’s remaining island territories in the Atlantic Ocean and elsewhere in the world secure, but it was mostly based in the Canary Islands, where there was nothing more stressful than maintenance and the occasional drill to keep the crews from enjoying the tropical lifestyle.

But now that state of events was changing. A month ago the fleet was ordered to relocate to Cadiz, where new transport ships were added to its command, and where rumors abounded that a military expedition was planned. Those rumors said that a regiment of the Foreign Legion was retraining in Spain in preparation for such an action, while fresh marine regiments were trained elsewhere for use in future operations. de Vries had heard all those rumors too, but she had no official orders of deployment. Not until that day.

Her orders were to escort a convoy of ships carrying various supplies, including weapons, to Guinea, a ran-down country bordering the UN zone of indefinite jurisdiction in West Africa. The mission was not secret and the 2nd Fleet was expected to challenge any UN attempts to interfere with it.

“This is just screaming for an international incident” she murmured as she folded her orders. Well, at least now she wouldn’t have to tell her grandchildren someday that she spent the entire war tanning in the Canary Islands...


Last edited by Seleukos of Olympia on 2008-04-05, 15:58; edited 1 time in total

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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-04-05, 15:31

June 25rd 2080

The power of Murmansk Sunset was breaking, and Dedenko could feel it. Nikoli and Yuri would flee, more concerned with their own skins than victory. But he was still commander of armies of Murmansk Sunset, and he still had much at his command. He was not beaten. Yet.

Saratov might abandon Russia – after all, he and Yuri were loyal only to money and themselves, but Dedenko was a different kind of man. He was of the old guard, and they were tied to Russia, not to Murmansk Sunset and their schemes. They would stay and fight, even though it was, so Dedenko belived, hopeless.

Every man in the command center was busy, and there was an air of semi-panic in the air.

On the great command map, thousands of yellow projections charged into the Ukraine. The Caliphate’s armies came on, as a few scattered red units scattered under the brunt of the attack.

“What’s the situation now? Move to it.” Dedenko ordered.

The screen flickered once, and the present situation appeared on the map.

The Russian Northern Army had arrived in force tonight, rushing to set up positions to block the assault on Moscow. Meanwhile, the Western Army was moving from it’s attack on the E.U. swung around and prepared to strike into the rear of the advancing Caliphate armies. The Eastern army would hit from the East, breaking the Caliphate advance. It was a desperate counterstrike against the odds, but it was Murmansk Sunset’s last hope.




A plane, several miles above an undisclosed location in Siberia

“Where are we going now?” Alexi asked, nodding in and out of consciousness.

“Alpha 35.” One Siberian Tiger said, oiling his AK-201. “A base in the middle of open Siberia. The original plan was to drop you off at Moscow, but the Caliph betrayed us and invaded the Ukraine. We got orders from Saratov to pull back across the Urals. Siberian Tigers are no longer to take part in any military operations on the front.”

“Why? They’re his elites…” he started to fade out, but regained his train of thought. “You’d… uh… think he thrown you in a crisis like this, to turn the tide.” Smirnov questioned.

“That’s not how Saratov thinks. We’re the only regular troops he has loyal to Murmansk Sunset. The rest are fighting for Russia. If he loses us, he loses the only thing that might one day keep him in office.”

“I see…” He said as he faded away.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-04-07, 15:06

Galveston, Texas July 25th 2080

The cargo ships now arriving were impressive behemoths, great steel vessels, filled to the brim with “Economic Supplies and Farm Equipment”, courtesy of the E.U.

Colonel Goldstein looked at the new shipments, as they were lifted out by cranes, and opened by eager soldiers. He looked into one, seeing the individual boxes, and opening it with his service knife.

Inside were fifteen Heckler & Koch G70. He smiled and moved onto the next shipping container, finding this one filled with tank parts.

At one point, after pouring over the new supplies with the excitement of a kid with new Christmas presents, he ran over to a customs official. “Has container 53 B been unloaded yet?”

“Yes, sir. Over on the left end.” He said.

The Colonel ran off, quickly finding the container. The area it had been unloaded on was closest to the road, for good reason, for it’s contents were far too secret to simply be processed in the usual way. Twenty armored cars waited, each one flanked by two vans, filled with hulking security personnel.

A man in an E.U. military uniform watched alongside the Colonel. “Made to your exact, and might I add, strange specifications, sir.” He said in a clipped British accent. “Might I ask what purpose they have?”

“No.” The Colonel replied curtly.

“Oh, I see. Still, interesting. Incendiary bombs, but only 20. Each one has to have X yield, Y weight, each one had to be made in a very specific way, designed to cause a very high intensity fire, but not at a typical altitude, but rather…”

“I would advise you to forget about this. It would be most… unpleasant if you revealed too much and we found out.” The Colonel said.

The E.U. soldier shut up.

White House

Simmit looked over the files. “This is interesting. We have a defector in the U.N. ranks. He says he is being sent to German Bay, and can provide us key data on the U.N. attack.” she said.

“Really?” Ramon replied. “I tend to be skeptical when it comes to these things.”

“It’s too good to pass up.” Said Simmit. “This man knows every detail of their battle plans. If we get this, we could easily stop the U.N. assault cold.”

“What’s his name?” asked President Washington.

“Jacob Longman.”
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-04-09, 02:56

June 24
0800hrs
Sinop

It had been three days since the opening of OP Righteous Sword, three long days of tension and waiting. Waiting in a small bunker below the twisting alleys of Sinop; burrowed into granite that dripped with moisture and fungus. Whenever possible Mustafa fled to his airy apartments above the town proper, but his worry drew him inexorably back to the small command room. Of course couriers would have been far simpler, but always he wanted to see first hand the great drama that was unfolding across the wide Russian steppe hundreds of kilometres to the north.

The initial attacks had surpassed all expectations, the light Russian defences had been rapidly neutralized and swept aside and the Khalifat’s armoured columns had penetrated deep into Russian territory like a sword – the speed of the advance scattering and disordering whatever forces the enemy had kept in reserve behind the Dnieper. To the east the Russian forces were still holding out in Grozny, but armoured divisions had simply bypassed that shattered city and were now making with all speed for the city of Volgograd, the lead elements reported that they had reached the mighty Volga mere kilometres from the storied city.

The air force had destroyed hundreds of Russian aircraft in the opening engagement, and now dominated the skies over the battlefield, allowing the tanks to advance across the open terrain with near impunity. To all eyes the war seemed as good as won, but a few weary souls believed the Russians still had a chance to stall the attack and prevent a rapid victory – turning the conflict into a gruelling war of attrition and endurance.

“Halil,” called Mustafa to his War Minister, not taking his eyes off the mesmerizing pattern of the plasma screen, “what intel have we received on the Russian dispositions and troop movements?”

Halil approached with a sheaf of documents, dark rings under his eyes and his weary expression belied his lack of sleep, but his mood seemed cheery and his voice light when he addressed his Caliph.

“On the west front near paralysis, the enemy logistics and dispositions were set up for a linear progression into western Europe – they seem to be attempting to swing their axis of movement one hundred and eighty degrees, but it’s causing all kinds of confusion and with most of the Dnieper bridges being destroyed it’s unlikely we’ll face any major threat on that front. Not for at least two weeks, by which point we should be in Moskva and their supply situation desperate.

“Of the north we have little information, from our European allies we gather that any weakening of the enemy position will result in an allied breakthrough, so most likely they are keeping up their strength and not moving major elements south to defend the capital.

“No, it is to the east that the enemy salvation lies – fresh Siberian divisions deployed between Kazakhstan and Mongolia. Though drained of numbers they still form a formidable force, the Russian difficulty will lie in transporting their forces westwards and then crossing the Volga to strike our flank. We’re quite certain that we can hold them off around Volgograd, but to the north where our hold will be more tenuous we do not know. If the Russians are smart, that is where they will strike, hopefully our air superiority will be able to prevent a bridgehead from developing.”

Mustafa took some moments to digest this information, in his head he could see precisely where the Russians should attack.

“The east…” he whispered pensively. And then he saw it right before his eyes, could see events unfolding as if he was the ringleader or the maestro; another daring gamble and the possibility of neutralizing Russia’s last hope. Would Allah most fortunate grant one last favour?

“When our armoured divisions by-pass Volgograd, hold back the tanks that were earmarked to clear the west bank of the Volga – it’s to be cleared with infantry only,” he took a pencil and drew a horizontal line from Saratov across to the main axis of advance, “this will be the stop line. They are to remain hidden as much as possible, and are not to move forward until given the express orders of central command; have these orders dispatched to General Abbas immediately.”

“Of course, ya-Sayyid,” replied Halil, scribbling the orders down on a paper and handing them to an aide-de-camp, “it will be risky, but what isn’t in this endeavour?” he could, of course, see precisely what Mustafa planned.

Mustafa simply smiled at him grimly.

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"I must have some booze. I demand to have some booze."
"I feel like a pig shat in my head."
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-04-09, 03:02

Situation, Midnight June 24/25:


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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-04-14, 14:08

The Kremlin


“Where’s Nikoli?” Yuri asked Dedenko. The Kremlin was filled with activity, as Operation Mindful Rage wound up. Early reports from the front were not good, and Saratov had ordered they continue packing to leave. The finest troops in the Caliph’s armies were swarming northwards towards Moscow at an alarming rate, and on the European front, another wave of assault was ready for battle. Millions of men were now engaged in what was the largest pincer movement ever conducted in the history of warfare.

“In his room. He’s high, again.” He whirled on Yuri. “Didn’t you tell him to wait until after the crisis was over, like I asked?”

“Two reasons: A: He’ll be in withdrawal, B: I don’t think that matters to him anymore. He doesn’t want to come to terms with our loss.” Yuri sighed. Saratov had given much of his life away, working tirelessly to make Mother Russia into a superpower once more. But he had been thwarted in his ambitions. Powers outside of his control had turned every carefully conceived plan awry.

The Operations Room
July 27th 2080


“Comm., we have acquired position delta. Enemy forces in sight 12 O’clock. Engaging.” The crackling transmission sent the atmosphere in the command room to one of tension, tight as a drawn bowstring. Everyone looked up from their computer screens, staring at the main monitor, which had changed from its typical map interface to a wide streaming video of the eastern flank of the Caliphate’s armor.

Thousands of precision guided shells turned the Caliphate units into little more than flaming hulks. Hundreds died in minutes. Tongues of flame wrapped themselves around the tattered metal, melting flesh and bone together. Great apocalyptic black clouds rose from the debris.

The operation was one of perfect logistical planning. The vast armored columns from the east and managed to cross the Volga and lie in wait until this moment, when they emerged, outflanking the enemy columns, and beginning to surround the Caliphate units and cut off their lines of supply.

But, as always with war, a no plan survives contact with the enemy. As the camera panned left to show the Russian tanks, a stream of bombs entered the frame briefly, and in turn devastated the Russian advance. All their careful planning was devastated by the lucky position of a bomber group.

The remaining forces regrouped for a second assault, but Murmansk Sunset’s lack of air control made any victory temporary and minor.

And the irresistible force of the Caliphate moved on. The demoralized Russian forces were quickly repulsed wherever they struck.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Aeraaa on 2008-04-15, 09:31

Rats. They were human sized rats. There is no other explanation why they moved so often in the sewers. Only rats do it. The officers say it is for their own safety. Outside they are vulnerable to snipers, machinegunners and artillery. It’s true, but the feeling walking into a shit tube couldn’t be described. The odor was awful. Damn! They were paratroopers, they were supposed to jump from planes or move by helicopters, why they had to be dragged into this kind of warfare? Yes, they are elite, the whole of Europe relies on them. So they had to endure it and win the war. These thoughts were passing from the mind of private first class Fotiadis. Their platoon was heading for a building once being a post office. They had to hold it until the main body of the division move into the area.
They soon found the exit of the sewer. Their objective was lying 20m ahead of them. Bernard leaned and scanned the area. Through his ACOG, he observed any window and every hole of their target and the buildings having visual contact to their location. After a while, he said:

-Clear!
-All right men of the 1st squad, sergeant Nilsson said. We reach the post office quickly. Get ready…now!

The 8 men of the first squad dashed to the post office. Soon they approached the front door. It was closed. 4 paratroopers stood by the left side of the door, and 4 at the right side.

-Ismael! Get ready to knock down the door.
-Yes sir!

The paratrooper stood in front of door. He was armed with a Beretta Falcone, an automatic shotgun. He aimed at the door’s handle, then fired a round and kicked the door violently with his foot. Then he quickly stood into the position he was before, his back lying against the wall. The paratrooper standing in the opposite side of the door burst into the room and soon the whole squad entered the building. They searched the whole building, but no enemy was on sight.

-Kowalczyk! Signal the rest of the platoon to enter the building!

With the same cautious approach, the whole platoon entered the building. When the last paratrooper, Bernard, entered the building, Nilsson gathered the squad leaders.

-All right! We’ve secured the building. Now we must prepare a defensive plan to hold it for about 2 hours. That’s when we will be relieved. To your positions men!

The paratroopers were making their preparations. McAllister, Lemois and Ismael begun a small conversation:

-I don’t believe it, said Ismael. When I enlisted here, I had in mind glorious assaults, not little strolls in a ruined city. What’s so great about being a para, anyway?
-Don’t you ever talk like that about the corps, boy! McAllister said. I was expecting a fucking slug (slang for regular infantrymen) to be saying those words, not one of my brethren. But I guess a daisy doesn’t know anything about the history of the brotherhood he is part of.
-Say anything you want. I see only facts and the fact is that I haven’t seen any action since I got my wings. What are we that special that the staff cannot afford to lose us?
-You’re damn right about that! We are precious to the military, because we win wars! We are not expendable, that’s the only sure thing. And if you didn’t like it, maybe you should become a slug, sit in a foxhole, waiting for an artillery shell, or a sniper to blow your brains out. No big loss, I assure you that.
-You’re damn right! I should. That way, I would be together with real soldiers, fighting real battles, not brag about having a beret and a reputation I don’t really deserve.
-You don’t know how much I’d love to pop a 6,8 up your skull. But I prefer to let the Ruskies do it.
-What Ruskies? Haha! I haven’t seen a single one from the day I arrived in this shithole. Are they really here? Or they are so cowards that they don’t show themselves?
-You really make me have a headache, Ismael, Lemois said

Ismael stood in front of the window.

-Here! I stand in front of the window and I breath the air, with no real danger on sight. Where are your Russians? Ismael turned around and faced the two other men. I say again, where are your damn Russians?
-Maybe you’ve scared the shit out of…

McAllister didn’t manage to finish his sentence. Two big bullets hit Ismael one on the chest and one on his belly. They made two holes on him, so large that light could be seen through them. Ismael fell on his knees, looked at the ceiling with his mouth open, then fell on the floor motionless. McAllister, whose face was red from Ismaels blood, yelled:

-We’re under attack! Heavy machine guns!

Soon more gunfire hit their positions. Kord machineguns from the building opposite to them were trying to pin them down.

-Get out of the second floor! We’re getting murdered here!
-Bernard! Go to the third floor and silence the machine guns! Everybody else, follow me!

The platoon went to the lower floor. The gunfire was coming from the opposite building, the Ceausescu’s former palace. Nilsson said to his men.

-We should enter the building between us and the palace. Then we will storm the building from its left side. OK everyone! Kowalczyk, McAllister! You’re first. Everyone else suppressing fire! Ready…go!

The two paratroopers dashed into the next building, while 20 men on the building were firing with small arms. The Russian machinegunners were redirecting their fire towards their position. However, one of them was into the scope of Bernard. He fired a shot, which hit the Russian right through his carotid artery. The gunner fell with a red fountain coming out of his wound.

-Now you stay right there, grinned Bernard.

Two of the three remaining machinegunners started firing into Bernard’s position, but to no effect, since he had displaced and went to the second floor.

Soon the platton entered their target building. Nilsson said to McAllister;

-OK McAllister. Make a path for us.
-Yes sir!

McAllister readied his AT rocket and targeted the wall in front of them. He fired a rocket, which blew up a large chunk of the wall and made a large hole. Nilsson said:

-OK. Go go go!

Lucau was the first to enter the building. Two Russian soldiers were lying in front of him. The first one was dead while the second was crawling away from him, having both of his legs damaged. Lucau turned him and put his boot on his chest. The Russian soldier said:

-Niet!

That was the last thing he said. A single shot from Lucau silenced him permanently. Seconds later, the rest of the paratroopers stormed the left wing of the presidential palace. Fierce close quarters combat begun, where the paratroopers used every weapon in their arsenal, including rifles, shotguns, flashbangs, even knives. Within 10 minutes, the whole wing was in their hands. But things didn’t look bright. The rest of the building was in Russian hands and they started to overrun the small numbers of paratroopers.

Suddenly, a huge explosion shook the center wing of the palace. It has been struck by a highly explosive shell from a Cataphract tank. The vehicle stopped 150 meters outside the palace, using its co-axial and turret machineguns to rain lead into the once wonderful building. A platoon of Jaguar IFVs and two Nemesis helicopters, combined to produce an enormous amount of firepower. Soon after, soldiers got off the Jaguars and entered the building.

-Yeah! Three hurrays for our boys! Lemois said.
-About damn time, added McAllister.
-Men! Gather up and give me casualty report.

Ismael, Johnson, Van Alen and corporal Lucau were dead. The last one died when a hand grenade went near his men and he went over it to protect them from the explosion. But his sacrifice was not in vain. The last pocket of heavy resistance in Bucharest had fallen. The city was at last in EU hands.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-04-30, 00:03

June 27
0630hrs
Sinop

Metres below the quiet streets of Sinop chaos reigned, the operations command room was a beehive of constant activity as information poured in from all across the vast battleground, was processed and regurgitated in a bewildering array of orders, dispositions, and suggestions. An ancient fan whirred frantically in a futile attempt to reduce the temperature of the room, which remained hot and fetid and smelling of armpits regardless, causing sweat to drip from brows and stain the beige fatigues of the assortment of officers, soldiers, and comms operators that orchestrated the great show and bustled busily about the room as if to some inaudible tune. The cavernous mass of the room echoed to a cacophony of voices, shouts, clicks, whirrs and all the inorganic sounds of machines running full-tilt, and everything glowed a sickly amber or pallid blue.

A sudden increase in volume and a flurry of activity in one part of the room drew the eye of Mustafa, who sat on a temporary dais watching the scene placidly, though with a trace of apprehension, which, after six days, was beginning to take a physical toll. His face seemed to sag, and worry lines had etched themselves deeply around his eyes which were bloodshot from lack of sleep.

Presently an orderly came to him, and presented him with a slip of paper, which he took calmly, having been presented with hundreds of such slips since the invasion had begun.

“Sir, Army Group East reports that their attack has stalled after armoured columns appeared at dawn and attacked their flank – we suffered heavy losses but an aerial attack stopped the enemy vanguard,” Mustafa started at the news, looking up from the detailed report in his hands as the orderly continued, “aerial recon is still uploading, but intel suggests as many as four armoured divisions have crossed the Volga and are engaging our northwards thrust.”

Mustafa gestured to Halil, who danced attendance upon him, "ya-Sayyid?" he queried as he reached the dais.

"The Russians have attacked as we expected, so transmit my permission to General Abbas to throw his reserve armoured divisions into the fight," said Mustafa, "they should prove decisive. Orders are to engage the enemy armoured columns and storm the Volga landing stages - attempt to cut them off from their supplies."

Halil bowed and moved off to execute this command.

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

June 27
0815
Volga River Valley

The air reverberated to the sound of thousands upon thousands of engines starting up, filling the hot morning air with the acrid and biting stench of gasoline and exhaust fumes. Men bustled around tanks and armoured cars, shouting and yelling as gas tanks and ammo bays were quickly topped up and camouflage netting was pulled away to reveal the mainstay of the Caliphates striking arm - T-104LR-A battle tanks lined up in neat rows and gleaming with malicious intent.

A half hour later they were pouring out of the makeshift armour park and streaming northwards across the fields and dotted woods of Southern Russia, a warm wind blowing from the south and the sun blaring in a cloudless summer sky on bronzing wheat that rippled in the breeze and through which the tanks cut deep trails. It hardly seemed like war at all.

And yet in the skies above one heard constantly, over the rumble of engines and the sighing air, the scream of jets and the rhythmic beating of helicopters, heading northwards to deal out death and destruction amongst the hapless enemy tanks as they too waded across golden fields. At last airborne intelligence, circling endlessly over the battlefield, reported the nearness of the enemy position, and the tanks prepared for battle. Commanders vanished into their metal beasts, and engines roared as the tanks raced forward at top speed to come to grips with their enemy, to appear with sudden and terrifying swiftness from an unexpected quarter and dispatch the foe...

_________________
IN THE NAME OF ST SEL, PATRON SAINT OF THE DEF!!!!

"I must have some booze. I demand to have some booze."
"I feel like a pig shat in my head."
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-05-06, 06:20

June 27
1015
Battle of Saratov

General Abbas calmly surveyed the battle map while ignoring the hectic chaos of the control room; grey eyes noting each of the coloured markers that denoted the divisions of both armies as they were arrayed around the city of Saratov – and where undoubtedly the decisive battle of war would be fought. At least four Russian armoured divisions and two infantry divisions had managed to cross the Volga and were now striking westwards into the flank of the northwards drive towards Moskva. Just hours previously he had received word from Sinop to unleash his armoured divisions kept in reserve at Kransoarmeysk, and they were now speeding along the ridge of the Volga valley northwards to meet the enemy – a veteran tanker himself he could feel the rush of excitement and wind, the gut wrenching fear, and the gritty dust that billowed everywhere and worked its way into every pore and nook; reddening eyes and chalking faces.

He looked over the map and was pleased with what he saw, the enemy advance had virtually ground to a halt as repeated aerial attacks forced the enemy to seek cover and disperse. Within minutes his reinforcements would be engaging whatever forces the enemy had screening their southern flank, and once through that would have an open path into the very belly of the enemy formations – which could then be ripped apart before they recovered from their surprise.

A harsh voice barked out over the intercom system: “four division armour, contact”. The bustling activity of the room paused ever so slightly, and then resumed with quickened tempo.

1030
Saratov Oblast

Thousands of T-104’s arranged in long columns cut their way across the open terrain of the Russian plains, some distance behind followed armoured personnel carriers and mobile artillery guns. ahead, still some kilometres distant, ugly black plumes billowed up into the clear sky marking where Russian tanks and vehicles had been hit by Caliphate bombs and missiles, while to their rear the beige dust thrown up by their movement had obliterated the southern horizon.

All at once tanks paused in their forward movement, their momentum seeming to waver for a moment. The message “Contact” spread down the line, and then explosions erupted from the formations as their 152mm guns fired upon the enemy infantry scattered about the fields – caught in the act of digging into their positions and hopelessly exposed. The Caliphate tank columns broke apart, and the now ragged formations streamed forward onto the field, guns flashing and booming irregularly as they fired at will upon the Russian infantry, which promptly turned and fled in the face of this sudden and wholly unexpected terror.

The metal beasts lurched forward after them, as if they sensed the blood which now collected on the field around the dozens of broken bodies which lay scattered about in various attitudes of distress and hungered for more; as if the screams of pain and anguish which rose up from the field drove them into a frenzy. They chased across the field at speed, ignoring now the helpless infantry – they could be dealt with later – and charging forwards to the real battle.

The enemy infantry had by this point largely disappeared from the battlefield, fleeing into the groves of trees which were scattered here and there across the otherwise open terrain. At last the tanks of the Caliphate came within visual range of the enemy armour, and again their formation changed – spreading out further and taking advantage of the local terrain. The Russian tanks had just begun to pull out into the open after the latest aerial assault, and were caught completely unaware and with their flanks facing the guns of the foe; within moments dozens lay in shattered ruins, belching flames and acrid black smoke. Now the field was shrouded in the heavy white shrouds of smoke screens and the dust thrown up by the recoiling guns, tanks emerged from the mist, fired, and withdrew – the Caliphate’s tanks advancing ever nearer to the Russian positions.

The battle descended into what appeared to be chaos, but behind the smoke, flames, noise and terror the Caliphate forces were steadily slicing through the Russian positions and cutting them off from support at Saratov. Some elements started moving towards Saratov itself to attack the vulnerable command and logistics elements. The rest engaged in deadly melee with the Russian tanks, the fighting was more even now, but the Russian formations had lost all cohesion and were rapidly losing their effectiveness. Overhead jets screamed across the sky, delivering their precision guided payloads onto target and adding to the general confusion.

Then, shortly after noon, Caliphate tanks attacked from the west and began dealing out death amongst the now trapped Russian tanks. Suddenly, and all together, the Russian forces broke. What remained of the infantry tried to run, and, finding themselves trapped began surrendering in droves. The tanks began withdrawing to the north, where a gap remained in the ever-tightening Caliphate noose, soon even that was closed and the crews abandoned their tanks en masse.

The stop order was given by sundown, and all movements ceased as the sun set crimson on the far horizon. The sky was black with smoke, the air hot and dry and smelling of acrid fumes and the stench of burning metal and flesh. The ground was scarred with craters and fire, ripped up by tank treads, and scattered over with the metal carcasses of blackened tanks and the broken bodies of soldiers. As the night descended the sky glowed from the fires of burning tanks, and the moon hung red in the sky behind dark shrouds which rose intangibly all through the night and stayed there for the succeeding days.

June 28
0430
Sinop

Mustafa smiled with rare elation as the news continued to pour in from General Abbas on the far eastern front. Four entire enemy armoured divisions had been smashed to pieces in a single day, and the stragglers were being obliterated by friendly air power as they withdrew further north up the Volga. The way to Moskva lay open, and there was precious little the Russians could throw in to block their inexorable advance now.

He called to Halil, “you have the joint declaration ready?”

“Yes, ya-sayyid, it has been approved by Langevin, to be transmitted at our discretion,” replied Halil.

“I think now will be a good a time as any, get Saratov while he’s reeling from this debacle – and how fitting, the Battle of Saratov, and now his fate is as good as sealed,” mused Mustafa.

“You think he will accept the terms?” asked Halil.

“Not at first, but soon it will become apparent that there is little else open to him – accept and perhaps we’ll be lenient, continue fighting and witness, before his inevitable death, the systematic destruction of the nation he holds so dear. If he has any sense left he’ll know which way the wind is blowing…”

“Yes, ya-sayyid, I’ll send it now.”

_________________
IN THE NAME OF ST SEL, PATRON SAINT OF THE DEF!!!!

"I must have some booze. I demand to have some booze."
"I feel like a pig shat in my head."
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Raja Sagan the Caker on 2008-05-06, 22:47

Communique ------------

June 28
0800hrs

Joint-Declaration for the Conditional Surrender of Russia and the Dissolution of Murmansk Sunset

Clause A: Military Surrender

(i) All elements of the Russian Armed Forces are to surrender immediately to the nearest units of the United Powers.
(ii) All heavy military equipment - tanks, aircraft, naval vessels - are to be surrendered to the nearest United Powers authorities.
(iii) All Weapons of Mass Destruction - and relevant facilities - are to be identified and surrendered to the nearest United Powers authorities.
(iv) All military forces and equipment within the Russian Empire will be rendered de facto the property or wards of the United Powers upon the signing of this document and the official commencement of the ceasefire. Responsibility will be officially transferred after specific surrender ceremonies.

Clause B: Governmental Surrender

(i) Government Agencies will submit themselves to the authority of the United Powers.
(ii) All essential Government Agencies will be maintained, non-essential Agencies will be dissolved at the discretion of the United Powers Governor - to be appointed upon the signing of this document.
(iii) The Executive Arm of the Central Government is to be dissolved. Murmansk Sunset is to be declared an Illegal Terrorist Organization, and former members are to be detained and tried in a fair court for Crimes Against Humanity.
(iv) A provisional Government will be set up with a United Powers appointed Governor in command. The precise powers and responsibilities of the Governor will be delineated later.
(v) The Provisional Government will remain in power until such time as the United Powers deem the return and implementation of the Russian Government-in-Exile both expedient and feasible.

Clause C1: Partition of Greater Russia

(i) Christian-European nations deemed to be historically independent of Russia will be granted sovereignty within their historic borders and granted limited entry into the Eurozone pending full political assimilation into the European Union; namely:

-Finland
-Estonia
-Latvia
-Lithuania
-East Prussia
-Byelorussia
-Ukraine

(ii) Nations within Russia consisting of Muslim majorities will be given sovereignty within their historic borders and granted entry into the Calipate; namely:

-Chechnya
-Dagestan
-Tartarstan
-Bashkortostan
-Kazakhstan

(iii) Christian-Asian nations within Russia will be granted full sovereignty under the Protection of the Caliphate; namely:

-Georgia
-Armenia

(iv) All Russian territory South of the Don-Volga Line excluding the Oblast of Rostov-on-Don will be surrendered to the perpetual military occupation of the Caliphate.

Clause C2: Partition of Russia and Administrative Responsibilities of the United Powers

(i) West Russia will be demilitarized and come under the administration of the United Powers.
(ii) West Russia will be partitioned into two administrative regions, a representative from each will preside over their respective territories.
(iii) The Mission of the Administrations is to:

-Maintain Peace and Order
-Maintain Social Services and Utilities
-Protect the Provisional Government
-Protect the Russian Government when it is established
-Serve as the Vehicle for any Aid and Assistance into the Region

(iv) The Administrations will exist in perpetuity.
(v) Peace within the Demilitarized Zone will be maintained by Military Police services.

Clause C3: Moskva

(i) Moskva will be a Special Administrative Region.
(ii) Moskva will be partitioned between the United Powers
(iii) Moskva will serve as the Seat of the Provisional, and all subsequent, Governments
(iv) Moskva will serve as the Seat of the Capital Adminstrative Region and the Governor of Russia (to alternate bi-annually between the United Powers) will administer the occupied territories from here.

Clause D: Military Limitation of Russia

(i) All Russian Military equipment and technology is to be surrendered to the United Powers.
(ii) All Military Production will cease immediately, arms factories will be dismantled under the authority of the United Powers and transported elsewhere.
(iii) Conscription is Prohibited, and Military Manpower is to be Limited to under 250 000 men.
(iv) The Air Force is to be abolished, except for Government transportation.
(v) The Navy is to be restricted to coast guard duties.
(vi) The development, production, and deployment of Weapons of Mass Destruction is Prohibited henceforth.

Clause E: Other

(i) 'Saratovgrad' is to be renamed 'St Petersburg'
(ii) All Murmansk Sunset propaganda and literature is to be destroyed.
(iii) Political prisoners are to be immediately released.

Map of Partition:


_________________
IN THE NAME OF ST SEL, PATRON SAINT OF THE DEF!!!!

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"I feel like a pig shat in my head."
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-05-07, 17:13

The operations room, June 27th

“We were just defeated outside of Saratov, sir. By this time tomorrow, the Caliphate forces will have arrived at Moscow, and we will be under siege. We need to evacuate.” The young officer said, looking up from his computer panel.

“Saratov has given the order to remain here.” Dedenko said. “This isn’t a heroic last stand. The government and military is remaining here so we can surrender more fully. Saratov is key on not causing anymore devastation. But that bastard is getting out of here. Typical. He’s gonna save his own skin, but doesn’t care one bit what happens to us.”

“Yessir.” The officer said, going back to his work.

“Contact General Abbas of the Caliphate. Inform him that Russia is prepared to discuss surrender with him.”

“Yessir” the officer said smartly. “Murmansk Sunset surrenders.”

“No. Russia surrenders. Murmansk Sunset will do whatever it wants.” Dedenko left.

Why had it come to this? His future was over. Unlike Yuri, he had nowhere to run, nowhere to go to lick his wounds in case of danger. He was a politician and a soldier, not one of the Murmansk Sunset terrorists. He knew he would probably be tried for war crimes and executed, but it hardly mattered anymore. There was nothing left for him.

An undisclosed Moscow military airbase

The plane lifted off into the sky, quickly vanishing into the thick cloud cover. It’s sleek, delta shape gave it the grace and elegance of a corporate jet, and made it adequate stylistically for the head of Murmansk Sunset and his aides. The interior was made of rainforest woods; the seats were made of some sort of exotic animal fur. The trim was gold leaf, and it came complete with a cook skilled in cordon bleu cooking. The plane was made in the P.S.S.A. and E.U., stealth and supersonic, but at the same time the ultimate in luxury; there were only two others in the world.

Simply because you are a wanted terrorist fugitive does not mean you cannot run away in style. And anyways, the exorbitant (and in the case of the fur, illegal) finery helped distract Saratov from the truth.

Yuri and Saratov sat in the built in conference room, chatting nonchalantly.

“You know,” Yuri, said, slipping champagne, “I will still control the Murmansk Sunset energy industry after this is done, which will leave us with a considerable amount of clout. We have plenty of people in the legislature who will remain with power, so our eventual taking back of control will not be too difficult in that area.”

“You’re deluding yourself.” Saratov replied. “We’ll lose the government, but we have one major advantage: behind the scenes power. Our web of spies and assassins is still unmatched. We can still plot our revenge while sipping martinis in the tropics. Have I showed you our safehouse in the P.S.S.A.?”

“Only a thousand times.” Yuri said dryly.

“Oh.” Saratov scowled. “How long till we reach Kamchatka Base?”

“We just took off.”

“Right…”


June 28th

General Abbas’ tank pulled up to the outermost defensive operations base outside of Moscow. Flanked by a veritable small army of soldiers, he was taking no chance. It would not be under Saratov to attempt to trick them and hold him hostage. After all, he was a terrorist.

However, this was not to be the case. A man in a Russian commander’s uniform exited the operations post. He smiled and raised his open palms. Abbas climbed out of his tank.

The general walked up to him briskly. “I’m here to accept your treaty, on behalf of Saratov and the Russian government.”

“Very well.” Abbas said stonily. “Where is Saratov?”

Dedenko shook his head. “He has escaped with a few of his chosen lackeys. Russia will surrender, but Murmansk Sunset has not agreed to any terms. They have disappeared into the shadows.”

“Order your men to lay down arms. We will raise the Caliphate flag over the Kremlin.” Abbas said.

Dedenko gave the word. All across the front, the orders were received. Soldiers surrendered to the allied force, laying down their arms and preparing to return to their homes. The war had finally come to an end. After 9 years of seemingly endless bloody fighting, which has devastated Eastern Europe, democracy had prevailed.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-05-20, 13:36

June 28th, 2080
“I’m Johannes Falke, and this is the Falke Report, Global News Network. Today, we have a shocking interview with former Russian politician Dimitre Zubrov, leader of the Russian Nationalist Party, pre-Murmansk Sunset. He has come on to talk to us about the new Russian President, Boris Rodchenko.”

The camera panned left to show an aging man, with a long curved scar running down his cheek and onto his neck. He was totally bald, except for a few patches of forlorn gray hairs just above his ears. He had an interesting expression, half smiling, but in a quizzical way. But his eyes bore a totally different expression, staring coldly but dispassionately at the camera.

“We received the video you sent us, which we will air after this interview, and several reputable sources have confirmed it’s authenticity, but we’d appreciate it if you tell the audience what the video contains. By the way, people, if you have kids watching, you definitely want to send them out of the room for this.” Falke shuffled his notes.

“Well, we have definitive proof that Boris Rodchenko engaged in prostitution and use of illegal drugs throughout his life, and is heavily addicted to crack and whores.” He seemed totally unaware of how scathing his attack had been, how low the blow. He continued with his half smile. This was a man who played rough.

Every household tuned in went dead silent. They had been told Rodchenko was the man to lead Russia into the future.

Zubrov continued his speech. “Is this the man you want running Russia? Is it? Ladies and Gentlemen, I think you can see this for what it really is. A puppet. They want to put a puppet in the Kremlin, to aid their own imperialist ambitions.”

The strange thing was how calm he was. He seemed almost robotic in his delivery.

“The government of the European Union and Kaliphate don’t want you to know about this. They tried to cover it up. They lied to you. Well, they didn’t lie, but you definitely didn’t get the whole truth. So, I hereby announce that any Russian who wants to join me is more then welcome. I hereby succeed from the Russian state, and will establish the nation of Free Russia. Anyone who wishes to join me is welcome. Do not accept their imperialist lies. Do not give in without a fight!”

Falke too looked speechless. This wasn’t planned. This wasn’t scripted! What had he done?

Meanwhile, on the Russian front, army group east pulled back across the Volga and began fortifying or destroying any crossing point. Troops massed at strategic locations. The Russian air force immediately began a mass exodus across the Urals. All said, a third of Russia’s ground forces were already entrenched in battle positions, and more were rushing on their way.

It happened overnight. Nobody knew or expected it. All feared that it was some ploy by Nikoli Saratov.

However, it would be quite an interesting ploy, because that night, his base in Kamchatka was leveled by a precision air strike. Hundreds were presumed dead, the deposed dictator among them.

Electronic diplomatic messages:

To the Caliph Mustafa II, From Prime Minister Zubrov of the newly formed Free Russian Republic

There are a few things that must be settled. First off, we are not to be confused with Dedenko's Russia, as we have signed no treaties with you, nor are we to be confused with Murmansk Sunset, the dicatatorial regime which once ruled Russia. We are not at war with you. However, we must object to your attempt to create soverign states in our territory, which is a violation of our international rights. Any attempt to back these states will arouse our distinct... displeasure.

To the President of the E.U., From Zubrov

There are a few things that must be settled. First off, we are not to be confused with Dedenko's Russia, as we have signed no treaties with you, nor are we to be confused with Murmansk Sunset, the dicatatorial regime which once ruled Russia. We are not at war with you. We will discuss your attempts to place this Rodchenko on the Russian presidency at a later date, but for now, we wish that you would recognise our nation.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Alexios Komnenos on 2008-06-18, 15:49

June 29th 2080

The Uralsk-Siberiya pact:

Article I:

The newly formed Uralsk-Siberiya, formerly the free Russian Republic (not to be confused with the Russian Federation) is free from all terms and conditions regarding the Russian Federation, formerly an administrative region of the now largely defunct Murmansk Sunset.

However, it will recognize the boundaries and sovereignty of all nations liberated from the tyranny of Murmansk Sunset, and do it’s best to assure their safety against resurgent threats to their independence, be they from Murmansk Sunset or other threats.

It will recognize Saratovgrad as Petrograd it’s correct Russian name, not St. Petersburg.

Article II:

Uralsk-Siberiya recognizes Murmansk Sunset only as a terrorist regime, which it will hunt down to the best of it’s abilities. It will assist Russia and the United Powers in this venture.

Article III:

Uralsk-Siberiyan citizens may enjoy dual citizenship with Russia or any of the newly established Eurozone members, and may pass between these nations freely.

We wish to foster better relations with the newly formed nations, and see it as partially our responsibility to ensure that they do not fall to the forces of tyranny, be it in the shape of Murmansk Sunset or other. But this will generally be the responsibility of the E.U. and Caliphate, but we will assist if asked.

The treaty was sent to the united powers to sign.
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Re: 2080 Story thread

Post by Aeraaa on 2008-06-22, 08:22

Good evening ladies and gentlemen this is Tomasz Adamski and Catherine Dawson from Euronews.

Fighting in Chisinau has ended, as the city has fallen into the hands of the soldiers of the 5th Corps, part of the 3rd Army Group. The city was poorly defended, as the military of Murmansk Sunset has almost collapsed. Here is some actual combat footage from the liberation of the city:





Tanks, mechanized infantry, attack helicopters and elite infantry forces made a combined arms assault at the city, elliminating any resistance.
As you see in this video, infantrymen of Murmansk Sunset make a desperate last stand against European Armor and airmobile forces:



The retreating forces of the enemy are withdrawing towards Western Ukraine, with the armies of the Islamic Khaliphate on their rear:



Paratroopers of the 20th regiment were instrumental in the capturing of the city, since they have shown extensive aggressiveness and effectiveness in combat prowess





Gerneral Dimitrios Aeropoulos, commander-in-chief of the 3rd Army Group has given an electronic interview this morning frim his headquarters:

-Soldiers and citizens of the European Union. I'm happy to reveal to you that the armies of Murmansk sunset are being defeated in all fronts. Victory is almost certain now. An age of darkness and oppression is ending . History has favoured not only the bold, but the men fighting for a just cause. Eastern Europe will return to an era of freedom and tolerance. Cities will be rebuilt. People will return to their homeland. But these same people must never forget, the men they own their freedom. They shouldnt forget the soldiers fighting into the ruins of Bucharest, the tank crewmen charging into the charred fields of Bulgaria, the pilots keeping the Romanian skies clear of enemy opposition. These men gave their hearts, their souls, their very own lives into something they knew it was more important than that. The only place of benevolence in this world we live nowadays. Europe. We thank them all and we shall never forget. I'm happy I've had these men under my command. You should be proud of them. Honor them.


That was the interesting interview from general Aeropoulos. Now we should go into an other topic. Deputy Petrescu, representative of Romania, is furious over the lack of economic aid into the liberated part of his state. He accuses minister of internal affairs...
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Re: 2080 Story thread

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