Popular Post Iverica Posted January 1 Popular Post Share Posted January 1 OOC: I want to get started and add my bit to the Anglia/Grand War storyline. I'll start with this timeline and add in missing critical RP Posts as I go along. For now, I want to retroactively add the un-RP'd events using this thread. I will CC post links in relevant threads if I see any and later, update the wiki timeline. Edits to this may follow, subject to change. **Note: have already checked with Seylos for any lore or event conflict. 2021 May Early Intelligence - Concerned by the start of the conflict in April, the Republican Armed Service (RAS) greenlights intelligence gathering operations via satellite and submarine collection. Initial Protests - In an open letter, the Foreign Office of the Iberic Federated Commonwealth (FedCom) questions the formation of the Occidental-Azanian Pact and protests the military action taken in Azania. July The Anglian Connection - Tracking suspicious shipping, Iverican intelligence agency known as the Special Security Office (SSO) expands operations in Koudiland to investigate Anglian connections. September-October Alertness - Following the expansion of hostilities in the Adlantic, Iverican military forces make preparations for future operations in the Adlantic. Half-strength Exersito (Army) divisions are reinforced with reservists and undergo increased refresher courses. The Armada (Navy) no. 7 Capital Task Group and the no. 8 Reserve Task Force undergo training in the North Oriental to prepare for Adlantic Deployment. Strategic Bomber formations, 200-Squadron and 260-Squadron are rebased to the Joint-TRIDENT airbase in Ferrefaairehafen, Variota. Logistics infrastructure prepares for increased volume; Strategic Supply Facilities in Manille and Ferrefaairehafen stock reserve munitions and fuel. 2022 February-March Missile Threats - The intelligence war in Koudiland escalates. Iverica discovers that Anglia is trying to arm Koudiland with strategic missiles. An incident involves the deaths of Anglian personnel and Iverican assets. Reinforcing the Adlantic - The Iverican Armada forms no. 28 Mobile Strike Group based in Pharos Island, Corinium. The Armada also rebases no. 27 Mobile Strike Group to Delamaria. April Condemnation - The FedCom demands Anglia cease action in Koudiland. Anglia condemns Iberic interventionism. Trade War - The FedCom announces a policy of escalating sactions with a pledge to totally embargo Anglian goods and Anglian shipping. Anglia responds by enacting a similar policy. Consulate Closed - FedCom diplomatic missions are withdrawn from the OCA and from Anglia. Only the Iverican Embassy in Azanopa, Afropa remains active after a pledge of protection from President Pierre Panza. May TRIDENT Emergency Session - The Secretary-General of TRIDENT calls an emergency session after the Gihon Incident in Bashan. As a result of the session, Iverica moves a naval, air, and ground taskforce in position to reinforce Bashan. Laying Plans in Europa - Shortly after the TRIDENT emergency session, Iverican intelligence makes contact with anti-Imperial elements in Europa. Iverican command also prepares to move vast assets to Bashan and Diegro Gracias, in the Adlantic. Bilateral Planning - Gallambrian and Iverican leadership meet after the TRIDENT session to lay the groundwork for a campaign in Europa. Given the escalating situation, both parties agree that proactive measures will have to be taken. Joining the Treaty- The Federated Commonwealth's constituent states unanimously decide to sign the Tricontinental Treaty after reaching a consensus of the existential threat that a Koudish-Anglian alliance would pose. Vasqqan, Verdese, Narvic, and Galician militaries commence programmes to comply with TRIDENT-standardisation (STATAG). June Submarine Raid- An Iverican submarine task unit is sent to destroy the vessels being used to transport strategic missile components into Koudiland. In response Anglia sends a task force to protect what it claims are innocent Suverine commercial ships July Embargo & Collateral - Iverica responds by using a carrier group to the Sakspati Sea to embargo and mine the ports while launching a precision strike on Koudish naval infrastructure, delivering an ultimatum. In the incident, an Anglian Admiral is killed by mistake during a missile strike. August-September Threats - Anglian vessels seemingly withdraw to lesser Koudish ports but Anglia maintains it's presence and threatens to declare war on Iverica. In response, Iverican SSO and anti-Anglian Koudish political supports terminate or arrest Anglian intelligence assets in Koudiland. The SSO seizes missile parts and arrests several dozen Anglian civilian crewmen involved. October-November Answered Call - The Federated Commonwealth sends a combined arms task force to Iwenland in an answer to the Seylosian's call for reinforcements. 2023 January Reprisal - Anglia launches a reprisal strike on Manille, Altaria, and Ultramares naval bases to weaken Iverican naval deployments. A simultaneous attack on Iverican flagship L'Republica deployed in the Oriental Ocean takes place. Meanwhile, a coup in Koudiland orchestrated by the SSO creates civil unrest and paralyses the government. Iverica launches a counter attack on Anglian vessels in the Mediargic Seas. War is declared - Iverica declares war on Anglia alongside Gallambria. 10 Link to comment
Popular Post Iverica Posted January 15 Author Popular Post Share Posted January 15 OOC: This post takes off from the point above, July - The Anglian Connection. Tracking suspicious shipping, Iverican intelligence agency known as the Special Security Office (SSO) expands operations in Koudiland to investigate Anglian connections. A Grand War Short: Operation Whaler (Part 1 of 2) 02 FEB, 2022 | 0200 Quest (Quebec) Time Aboard Armada Frigate FFG-226 Lucero, East Sakspati Sea The C-Deck Ops Centre onboard the frigate was cold and dimly lit. It smelt strongly of caffeine and faintly of buttery churros. A long table dominated the centre of the space. Atop it, a mobile suitcase computer tower had been set up and clamped down. Bundles of cables, like a root system, spread from the tower and tangled around pens, folders, tablets, manille envelopes and ultra-thin displays. At 0200, most of the SSO* team occupying the Ops Centre had either retired to their berths on the VRI Lucero (FFG-226) or lay passed-out in the corners of the room, power-napping between bursts of amphetamine fuelled work sessions. Among the team of 5 Juniour Officers and Analysts, only 1 remained seated and awake. Joaquín Reyes, Analyst, poured over a fresh report from callsign Swallow- the lead SSO asset in-country. He had just started on the image appendix when the hatch lock clanged in release and the hinges rasped in motion. Reyes looked up, though his compatriots remained dead the world. *SSO- Special Security Office, Iverican foreign intelligence agency. In walked the SSO team lead, Senior Ops Officer Solano. She was sporting eyebags alongside a paper cup of double-shot espresso but nonetheless, she looked as sharp as the day she drafted Reyes into the team. Reyes knew that Solano didn't like to spell things out for her team, so he started off with an update the moment she had a seat. "Last report from Swallow confirms our suspicions. The containers at Burgetounaz were empty but based on all available accounts from port assets and taking into consideration recent IMINT of the Koudish black site- these are almost certainly strategic missiles parts, likely for ICBMs", Reyes began. "Any word on the payload?", Solano's tone was flat, tinged with the rustiness of a recent waking. She took a gulp of the espresso. "Unknown." The Ops Officer shook her head. "Not good. Strat missiles may mean that the Koudish are violating the Goodwill Accords*. Despite that, Direct Action could still put us down a fait accompli path into a hot war", she commented, draining her paper cup and tossing it at a slumbering Junior Officer who had started snoring in a corner. The man snorted, still asleep, and rolled to face another side. "We don't have a choice", Reyes replied, scratching his growing shadow of facial hair before continuing. "This course is our only chance to find out before the quantity of parts in Koudish hands becomes more than what we can manage. A hot skirmish here will look like a slap fight next to another Argic War or Missile Crisis." *Goodwill Accords- an agreement signed between Koudiland and Iverica at the end of the Second Argic War. One of the Accord's clauses mandates that Koudiland cannot develop, purchase, or in any way, arm itself with strategic missiles Reyes was of course, referring to the course of interdicting and boarding the MV Rezina, a Suverine cargo ship. The ship had been used to ferry suspicous cargo between Suverina and Koudiland for months. The SSO had been tracking it since, slipping the VRI Lucero to tail it as it made for the capital of Koudiland, Burgetounaz- after loading more cargo from its home port. "I know", the Ops Officer sighed. "We have 2 plays to choose from. Seeing as you're the only one that can rub 2 neurons together among this lot, I want your opinion". Reyes leaned forward, curious and surprised at the closest thing he had gotten to a complement and acknowledgement from his team lead. "One: we go with a black op, raid the Rezina. We'll have complete surprise and total deniability. If we find what we think is there, we'll have what we need to green light a strike on their assembly site", she paused letting that sink in before continuing. "Two: we go with a by-the-book visit and board. No telling how the Rezina's crew will react and what they'll do. If we find what we're looking for, we'll have the integrity to wave this around in public and maybe use our political supporters to block the Anglians from inside the Koudish government", she finished, watching Reyes carefully. Reyes swallowed spit to soothe his quickly drying throat. He breathed in and out. "Two. It gives us more leverage with our Koudish allies." "But then we lose surprise. We also lose the tempo to nip this all in the bud with one strike", Solano challenged. "A false flag raid followed up by a swift strike would be the most expedient way to achieve missile security in the Mediargic but it would create repurcussions that we would have no foresight or contingency for. It creates too many radical variables-". Solano cut him off. "-because strat-bombing Koudish soil by surprise and showing our hand of kill teams in Koudiland would alienate our native supporters. It would likely plant the seeds for a future incident", Solano completed the thought for him. "Right, with Option Two, we get to look like we're operating by the book. Things could get messy but we still have contingencies for a failure at this stage", Reyes surmised. Solano reached over, extracting a file from under the tangle of cables. She pushed the prepared briefing packet to Reyes. "Well then, Analyst. Green light." Reyes nodded. "I'll brief the DA* team then", he made to get up, ready to brief the SOAR* operators doing mission prep in the aft ready room. "Not dressed like that, you won't". *DA- Direct Action. *SOAR- Special Operations and Aggressive Reconnaissance. One of the Iverican military's tier-1 special operations units. Reyes stopped. He glanced down at his black Southface™ fleece jacket and his grey cargo pants. "I like to know my team's talents. I read into you, obviously. Young Landsman* at 12 years-old, already a little war-pup and you hadn't even finished with puberty. At 16 fast-tracked into the 81st in their SB Squadron*, after 2 years, recommended for the Escuela Naval Militar* where you finished coursework in intelligence analysis. Another 3 years acting as a Naval intelligence staff attache to Tercio SF teams in the North Adlantic. How many boots-on ops did you tag along with? 15? "14." *Young Landsman- Iverican: Tiero Joven. A graduate of the Iverican Marine, or Tercio, Cadet Summer Academy. In order to earn the Young Landsman tab, cadets must finish a harsh gauntlet of challenges. *81st Tercio Regiment, Special Boat Squadron- are an elite amphibious unit specialising in green and brown water operations, VBSS operations, and assisting other special units with infliltration and exfiltration. The SB squadrons within the 81st are consider part of the Armada (Navy) special operations units. *Escuela Naval Militar- is the Iverican Navy's premier officer academy, located in Manille, Nou Stille. The academy also trains Tercio (Marine) officers. She shook her head. "15. I know about the Amka Raid*." "I'm an Analyst now." "You are, but you're also part of the SSO. Being flexible, using your past experience comes with the pay grade. Kit up, I need someone with knowledge of the weapon systems to lead SSE*. You're the most likely among the team to survive if this goes pear-shaped. You'll also be the least annoying to the operators. SOAR is good but ICBM parts aren't their territory. We couldn't get SWS-1* for this op. Short straw, Reyes." *Redacted *SSE- Sensitive Site Exploitation; collecting information, material, and persons from a designated location and analyzing them to answer information requirements, facilitate subsequent operations, or support criminal prosecution. *Special Weapon Security Team 1- a Special Operations Command unit trained to secure, transport, or extract hazardous materials and strategic weapon systems in chemical, biological, radiological, or nuclear contaminated conditions. Reyes' stomach felt tight. Her earlier questions about courses of action were nothing more than a psych play to get him motivated to prime his brain to form a positive connection with the plan- easing him into the imperative that he would now be in the line of fire... again. "Stop wasting time. Op Whaler is a go." --- TLDR: After finding signs that Anglia is shipping ICBM parts to Koudiland (an NPC state on the ballsack part of Argis, east of Aendoan on the map), the SSO makes plans to interdict one of the cargo ships suspected to be trafficking parts. Analyst Joaquin Reyes is picked to accompany a boarding team of special operators. 11 Link to comment
Popular Post Iverica Posted January 18 Author Popular Post Share Posted January 18 OOC: Disclaimers and warnings: somewhat graphic death and gore. If you can't stomach bleeding and combat injuries, don't read this. I wrote this with the intent of balancing some realism with action novella spectacle. A Grand War Short: Operation Whaler (Part 2 of 2) 02 FEB, 2022 | 0312 Quest (Quebec) Time East Sakspati Sea The bastards weren't stopping. In fact, they sped up, flogging the container ship's diesels as far as they would go. The Rezina's lights, twinkling in the early morning dark, winked off one by one. The Suverine container ship, MV Rezina, had been hailed a quarter of an hour ago after the Lucero had snuck up within gun range, darkened and at top EMCON*. The moment the Lucero started broadcasting a visit and search order over civilian commercial frequencies, the vessel began its mad and futile dash. Even at flank speed, the bulky container ship suspected of carrying ICBM parts wouldn't be able to outrun the Lucero, a cutting-edge Armada frigate fresh off Manille yards. At flank speeds, currents permitting, the Lucero could engage its gas turbines and rip by at 30-35 knots. *Emissions Control- wherein a ship reduces its electronic footprint. Radar and radio emissions reduced. The Rezina running from the Lucero was- put quite blandly- ridiculous. It was comparable to a garbage truck trying to outrun a brand-new grand tourer. A minute after the Rezina sped up, marked by the increased exhaust and growing white wake from its screws, the Lucero's bridge crew marked it as a potentially hostile vessel resisting a visit and search order. Lucero carried extensive EWAR, or electronic warfare capabilities, including a massive shipboard jammer that took up the entirety of its aftward CIWS mount. Brought to bear, the jammer spun up, instantly jamming communications and overloading several radio-electric receivers on the Rezina*. At the same time, the high-intensity spotlight mounted on the bridge opened up on the Rezina, creating a rather unpleasant experience for anyone looking out on the deck. *A powerful jammer may damage radio-electric receivers. Jammers are not normally used for maritime interdiction. Used here due to the special nature of the operation. Meanwhile, the SOAR teams plus their rather out-of-place SSO attache had already been prepped and waiting in RHIBs* on the boat decks and in the NH-90 on the helo deck. The moment EWAR was engaged, the NH-90 went wheels-up and the RHIBs lowered. The helo made to circle the Rezina in a holding pattern, stabbing at its darkened form with a bright searchlight and covering its open decks with a door-mounted machine gun. Using a long-range acoustic device, the NH-90 blasted demands to cut engines and prepare for boarding. *RHIB- Rigid-Hulled Inflatable Boat. Small watercraft usually carried on warships for utility, like boarding other ships. It had struck the SSO as a possibility that the Rezina's crew would try something. As idiotic and improbable as trying to run away was, the SOAR teams had been prepared even before the Rezina was in visual range. For Analyst Joaquin Reyes though, the enemy action was quite curious. Reyes had expected the crew to come quietly given that there was little they could do but hope the visiting authorities found nothing. Even inexperienced merchantmen knew there was no chance of outrunning a warship in an old container tub. Going flank speed only meant 2 things- either the crew was very stupid and very scared. Or... their goal wasn't getting away at all. But rather, to buy time. Reyes had that sinking feeling in his stomach. The same one he had a year earlier right before his pointman tripped an explosive door trap. There was something on the ship they didn't want them to find. Perched at a crouch and looking out the flank hatch of the NH-90, Reyes surveyed the ship, illuminated by a waxing crescent moon and the dancing ray of the searchlight from the circling helo. She was 300 metres in length and stocked about 3-quarters to its capacity, the ship was quickly gaining speed- struggling along at 18 knots and climbing. The faster it went, the longer it would take for his RHIB teams to board. Given the distance now, the RHIBs would take another 5-10 minutes. Reyes cursed, though the expletive was drowned out by the wash of rotors. There was a decision he had to make and he had to make it now, rash and stupid as it might seem. Reyes keyed his radio. "All Queequeg callsigns, this is Ishmael" "Ishmael, Queequeg Actual. Send it." "Queequeg Actual, Harpoon is in effect. Repeat, plan Harpoon is in effect." There was a short pause on the line. There were 3 action plans prepared for changing operational needs. The original plan, the safest and most by-the-book one, was for SOAR teams Queequeg 1 and 2 to board while Ishmael team covered them from the helo. Only when the bridge was under control and the Rezina brought to a full stop would the NH-90 loiter to insert Ishmael team via rappel lines. Harpoon was a contingency plan in case something happened to the RHIBs or in case boarding over the sides was impossible due to water cannons or other reasons. Harpoon, on the other hand, meant that Ishmael would go in first- rappelling onto a speeding container ship with no direct cover. Queequeg RHIB teams would only board when able, meaning that Ishmael would be a single team of 8 on a ship of 30 or possibly more unknowns. Put plainly, Harpoon was a plan they never expected to use. "Ishmael, Queequeg Actual. Interrogative: what's your oscar-eye* of the objective? Over." *Oscar-eye- an internal proword referring to the observable situation & evaluation of operations-relevant conditions "Queequeg-1, Ishmael. Objective has gone darkened-ship, no observable deck activity. Break. I emphasise that exigent circumstances have now shortened our time frame. Harpoon necessary. Over." "Ishmael, Queequeg Actual copies all. Harpoon in effect..." There was another short pause. "Break. Ishmael, I hope you know what you're doing. Those are my boys with you. Over." Reyes copied and terminated the exchange. He did doubt his course of action. What if the crew was just drunk and stupid? He shook the thought off. They'd been casing the Rezina for months now. There was most certainly something of interest in it. There wasn't another course of action that put boots on deck in time to stop whatever it was the crew were trying to buy time for. If the ship just happened to empty this one voyage, he'd look damn stupid. If there was something worth hiding, the crew was likely armed with a motive to resist them- which made the Harpoon play far riskier. There was one trick he could pull through. He raised Pequod on comms, callsign for the ship's ops centre. "Pequod, Ishmael. Requesting Snow Cub support to hold over the objective. Load for guns." "Ishmael-", came the voice of Solano. She sounded pissed, likely having heard the change of plans over comms and wondering what the hell he was trying to pull. "-Snow Cub support approved; ETA, 10-mikes. Callsign Tashtego. Freq 130. Break. Ishamel, proceed with caution." Damn. She was trusting his calls. Snow Cub was an unmanned rotor used for recce, fire support, or mine countermeasures. It had been brought up earlier as a possible contingency fire support resource. No one in the room had thought it would be necessary though. It was looking like Reyes would have something to fall back on albeit 10 minutes away. A lot could happen in 10 minutes. Steeling himself, Reyes gave the word to the pilot. The NH-90 went from orbiting the Rezina to bearing down on its bow. Reyes felt it, the jitters before the shooting started. A feeling he had hoped stayed behind with his time in the Tercios. --- Salty sea wind rushed upwards from the open flank hatches as the NH-90 rapidly descended over its infil zone, a patch of even-levelled containers towards the fore of the ship's cargo deck. Around Reyes, SOAR operators from Ishmael team checked their weapons again, already cleared for condition 1. Others swabbed their night-vision devices and thumbed their helmet-mounted infrared strobes on. They had let Reyes borrow some extra kit, sans markings and patches. Identical to what Reyes was wearing now, each man sported gear in midnight blue, looking almost black. Cloth-shelled highcut ballistic helms were worn with integrated ear protection and over black woollen balaclavas. On their chests were PlateFrame Level IV body armour rigs strapped with a bodycam. Below the cam were pouches for magazines, grenades, and utilities- front and on back panels for teammate use. The armour was an Armada variant favoured for maritime ops; it had 2 clasps on each side for quick release and was typically worn over a lifevest which could be inflated by ripcord. Under all of those was a hydrophobic and fire-resistant combat uniform. The uniform's extremities were trimmed in patterned IR reflective strips to help distinguish friendlies from unknowns. The men were all similarly armed with suppressed carbines chambered in 6.8 SPC; on the carbines' rails were IR laser devices, angled foregrips, and wide-angle holo optics. Leg holsters held their sidearms- pistols chambered in 9x22 SS. On their belts hung CBRN-rated gasmasks and horizontally sheathed combat knives. The breacher carried extra gear; most hatches on ships like this were steel, so he carried a cutting torch. Teammates carried extra breaching charges and thermite grenades. All had an excess of flashbangs and teargas grenades. The NH-90's door gunner covered the superstructure's catwalks and open decks, sweeping his .338 machine gun over as the NH-90 slowed and the crew chief loosed both flanks' rappel lines. Below them, the tops of the sheet metal containers pitched and rolled with the motion of the ship. It took no small amount of skill for the pilot to hold the bird steady against deck motion and wind while matching the Rezina's speed all at once. The team clipped onto the lines and went over with nary a word to another, each man knowing his place. Their movements were drilled, precise, and mechanical. Foot insoles and arms clasped the lines as they zipped down them with their carbines slung and tucked parallel, under their dominant arm. Reyes was the last man out. He had just clipped on and hugged the line when muzzle flashes burst from the bridge windshields. Impacts spattered on the metal airframe of the NH-90 and onto the containers below. The response from Ishmael team and the door gunner was instantaneous and deafening. A stream of tracers lit up the bridge as the unsuppressed .338 roared a hasty response. "Puto!", cursed the pilot over the intercom. "Hold on sir!", he yelled as the NH-90 rolled and banked towards the Rezina's starboard flank. The manoeuvre came just in time as the shooter, undeterred by the earlier suppression, corrected his burst and let loose where the helo had been hovering an instant prior. Ishmael team on the deck had already displaced using fire and movement. A single fireteam bounding for cover while another maintained suppression. Once the first fireteam was set, they rattled out suppression from cover while the second team slipped away from the exposed container tops. Reyes clung to the line, his fingers, thighs and feet clasped as tightly as he could weld them. There was a sickening feeling of inertia and nothingness as he twisted and swung over the blurry night deck. "You're going to have to jump", the pilot remarked, almost casually. "What?!" "Jump or stay clinging to the bird, your call. No time for a chat, sir. When she swings- remember- like a pendulum. You'll know. The pilot rolled the helo as it was banking away leeward, to the wind. Reyes swung like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, hanging precariously and asshole-puckeringly high over the choppy black waters. All of a sudden, he was swinging to his right, the promenade of the ship accelerating into view. Reyes didn't know how but his body let go of the line. He crashed back-first into the bulkhead. He felt several segments of his back and neck click in a strange manner. Looking up through this night vision, he watched a stream of accurate machinegun rounds erupt from the NH-90, shredding the front bulkhead and windshield ports of the bridge. Through the side window, he thought he saw the pilot give him a thumbs up as the helo distanced itself further astarboard while peppering the superstructure with suppressive fire. Groaning, he stood, bracing his carbine and checked the promenade to his front and rear. Briefly backing into a support beam for cover, he updated Pequod and Queequeg on the situation. Making his way aftward, he contacted Ishmael team for a rendezvous at their designated breach point- a starboard hatch at the base of the aftward superstructure. --- "There you are, sir. Thought you'd gone for a cold swim instead", Ishmael's team lead, SWO-3* Ignacio "Nash" Prythein whispered. *Special Warfare Operator, third level- equivalent to NCO, OR-5 or OR-6. The team was at the starboard catwalk at the base of the aftward superstructure, stacked up by a hatch. Each man covered an angle, a ladder or the hatchway. "I would have, Nash, but it wasn't worth it without your sisters to keep me warm", Reyes jabbed back. Nash just smirked. In the distance, trailing behind the wake of the Rezina, Reyes could make out the IR strobes of Queequeg 1 and 2 in their RHIB teams, precious minutes away still. Just then the breacher hand signalled. Movement inside, unknowns. Reyes knew the seconds counted. There wasn't enough time for an abundance of caution. The crew were armed and the SOAR team was currently outnumbered, with the Snow Cub UAV still spinning up at the Lucero. "Go explosive", Reyes whispered over comms, taking his designated position towards the rear of the group. The charges were set, shaped blocks designed to breach steel doors with the Munroe Effect. The breacher counted off with his fingers... 3... 2... 1. The charge went off like a thunderclap, followed a millisecond later by the rush of displaced air and reverberating metal, like a note from a dull gong. Pings of ricochetting metal rang out as bolts and bits of metal from the hatch were thrown around as spall. The hatch was blasted open, swinging violently on its hinges. On the opposite side of the hatchway, another team member bounced the stun grenade he had prepped. It went off with a crack, followed by a flash of searing bright light from the portholes. The operators on the immediate left and right of the hatchway forced in, working their respective slices of entry. The sharp, echoing report of their carbines echoed out of the ruined hatchway as teammates behind them pushed forward in and ahead on either side of the interior passageway, stepping over enemy KIA dead from the breach. The SOAR team worked methodically, clearing cabins in pairs while pointmen and rearguards covered either end of the passageway. Barred hatches were blown open, blasted through, or had their locks melted out by thermite charges. When a pair entered an unlocked cabin, its hatch was opened by one while a second member covered, leaning slightly out of the hatchway. Armed contacts were dropped- 2 shots to the centre of mass. After a split-second check for traps, the pairs would force in deep after carefully pie-ing around the hatch frame. They worked from end to end of the space first, then top to bottom, checking over and under bunks. Lastly, they cleared lockers and closets as a pair. Several crewmen were found huddling under bunks or inside closets. The procedure was to drag them out, get them on the ground, check for weapons, and then secure their wrists and ankles with thick cable ties. Ishmael team left the detained for Queequeg to secure. RHIBs carrying Queequeg 1 and 2 were now alongside the Rezina, matching its speed and getting into position to grapple a ladder onto the railing of a low promenade deck. Queequeg-1 would secure the detained while Queequeg 2 would secure the top container deck before working to clear the lower decks. Ishmael pressed on, racing for the topdecks, where the bridge, wardroom, and berths were. It was imperative that they capture the ship's officers- their only key to finding what the Anglians were trying to hide. Ishmael cleared much of the superstructure one deck after the other without so much as a scratch. Resistance was stiff- crewmen of Suverine and mixed Europan origin. Armed with dated but effective carbines, they were stubborn and unusually motivated, but also blind as Queequeg-2 cut the power to the rest of the ship. The team left bodies in the wake of their ascent up-deck, gurgling corpses leaking pooling fluids that slipped and sloshed as the ship rocked in the sea. Reyes brought up the rear, paired with a SOAR operator. Together, they protected the rear, while sweeping for objects of interest the team may have missed. The two dropped several contacts that had come from all manner of uncovered access points; crawlspaces, secondary ladderways, and portholes from a catwalk. In CQB this tight, adversaries could and would use any crafty firing position or flanking point to wear down the entry team. This reality could not have hit harder than when Ishmael reached the ladderway just before the officer berths, a deck before the bridge. The passageways that fed the ladder landing had open space on the left and the right. Ishmael had cleared the whole deck but there simply wasn't the time nor the spare manpower to cover its entirety at once. A situation like that was ripe for the enemy to manoeuvre. None of the team had heard 2 pairs of armed adversaries drop from deck hatches above. They landed stealthily onto a section of the deck's external catwalk, which was concealed from the vigilance of their orbiting NH-90 by sheet steel. They operated quickly and silently, with skill above any regular thug or merc. Edging slowly towards the porthole, they braced their rifles. They sighted in, seeing the team's rearguard just beginning to ascend the ladderway steps. Night vision was sometimes tricky if IR light sources were bright and constantly reflecting against glass. IR light from 8 helmet-mounted IR strobes, even when dimmed, shone brightly against the porthole glass. Neither Reyes nor his partner could see clearly out the portholes. Fire erupted from both panes of circular glass, raking the team from the end of the left and right passageways. Reyes and the operator paired with him were hit in multiple places at once. The PlateFrame armoured rigs were light but tough, with Level IV protection that could shrug away .308 rounds- yet they lacked side plates. The first burst spun Reyes' partner as his right torso, left arm, and right hip were hit. The next rounds sheared off bits of his ballistic helmet and shattered his front plate. The ballistic plate was powder now, chipping off and coming away as the next burst went through the ruins of the armour and into the man's chest. He was dead seconds after hitting the deck, spasming in his death throes. Reyes had been luckier. He saw a flicker in one of the portholes and turned to cover it. The reaction had saved him from the worst of the fire. Several rounds went into his front and back plates, cracking them and pulverising chunks of the ballistic ceramic. Some mag pouches ripped, slugs bursting the magazines and sending ammunition clattering to the floor. Reyes slipped and fell from the force, winded and heavily bruised as his armour came apart. As he fell, he was hit a few more times, one on the edge of his forearm and another one into his helmet. The round stopped just short of his skull but had opened up a wide gash in his scalp. As the landing erupted into furious suppression, the SOAR team stuck to bulkheads at the ladderway and fired back at the porthole shooters. 2 other operators received multiple ricocheting hits from rounds spanking against the metal decks. Despite being hit in extremities, armour, helmets and parts of their faces, they fought on, firing back in short, sharp bursts. A grenade was dropped from above. Nash, behind the pointman, kicked it, sending it bouncing down 2 levels below where it detonated with a bang that would have shattered eardrums if not for their integrated ear protection. Nash and the pointman returned fire, one of them lobbing a flash grenade up and over to the next deck in response. A moment later, another detonation came as an enemy's primed frag grenade was dropped as the flash blinded and disoriented him. The clumsily dropped frag detonated, causing flakes of paint and chips of rust to fall from the ceiling. Echoing shouts and screaming followed. Nash and 3 other members of the team then attempted to push forward up the ladderway but were rebuffed by the volume of enemy fire. Evidently, there were still more up there. Reyes stayed glued to the ground, rounds ripping the air above him. He sucked in air, winded from being hit in so many places at once. He writhed on the deck, his uniform dripping with blood that had begun pooling from his downed partner. This was a killbox. They were being squeezed from 3 ends. Reyes took a tight gulp of air and fought the sudden dump of adrenaline injected into his system. He forced his shaking hand to move and keyed his radio. "Break-Break. Ishmael to all callsigns. Ishmael is p-pinned. Superstructure, Deck 03. Need immediate support. Break. Casualties. Over", Reyes knew they needed support sooner. They were several decks up from Queequeg-1. Reyes fought through the fog of his shocked senses and remembered the one thing that might still save them. Tashtego, callsign of the drone operator on the Lucero. If they could just get the rotor UAV to open fire, Ishmael just might get the breathing room they needed. "Tashtego, Tash-Tashtego. This is Ishmael", Reyes coughed and wheezed. "Interrogative: What is your ETA?". "Ishmael, Tashtego. Tashtego is approaching initial point for holding pattern, ETA less than 1 mike. Repeat, ETA less than 1-mike". Reyes had no time to copy the message. He changed freq and keyed Starbuck, callsign for the NH-90. "Starbuck, Starbuck, this is Ishmael. Calling for close air support, danger close. I have no visual, n-no means to direct 9-line* for Tashtego. I clarify-", Reyes gasped and grit his teeth. *9-line- refers to the 9 "lines" of communicated info used to coordinate aerial support. "I clari-fy... direct. 9-line... for Tashtego, freq 130. Danger close. How copy? Over". Starbuck had been circling but could only roughly suppress enemies on the outside with his machine gunner. The enemy shooters were behind outer steel bulkheads and close to friendlies. "Ishmael, Starbuck. I copy. Starbuck will direct 9-line for Tashtego, danger close. Mark and call targets, over." Reyes reached into the ruins of his rig to retrieve a glowstick before realising how stupid that was. More sounds from around them came now, the enemy taking advantage of Ishmael's immobilisation. They displaced from the portholes and were now taking potshots from the ends of the passageway, advancing every time the operators took cover. Reyes dropped the unlit glowstick and instead, ripped the strobe off his helmet and cranked its intensity and pulse as high as it would go. He took one breath of air and flung it through one of the portholes. It went through the hole, bouncing on the sheet metal outside and landing somewhere further afore. Nash looked down at him. Understanding, the SOAR team leader threw his own strobe out of the other porthole. "Starbuck, Ishmael. Deck 02 and 03, forward compartments. Target is obscured from view but the vicinity is marked by a fast-flashing strobe. Do you have visual? Over", he rasped Starbuck replied, confirming their visual. Over freq 130, Reyes heard parts of the 9-line. "-tego, put guns on Decks 02 and 03...-ward compartments, marked by fast strobes-... danger close... cleared hot" "Starbuck, Tashtego copies all. Tashtego has strobe in sight, target compartments in sight. West to East.... In from the West, in from the West... Cleared hot." "Get down!", Reyes heard Nash roar. All 6 remaining operators still standing hit the deck. Reyes couldn't hear the chop of the Snow Cub's rotors through the gunfire but the rip of the 20mm gun belching death spoke louder than everything else. Reyes heard the crack of rounds breaking the sound barrier before he heard the hissing shriek of the cannon's report, sounds separated by distance and wave travel time. 20mm slugs ripped through the forward compartments from port to starboard, shredding metal into orange hot sparks and daggers as rounds ripped into bulkheads. Enemies not hit directly were shredded in multiple places by spalling and splintering metal, hacking them into gore and offal. Reyes' ears started ringing- the ear protection not doing enough to drown out the sound of multiple short bursts and a long burst sending the compartments ahead of them into an infernal chorus of popping and screaming metal. Outside, the Snow Cub rotor UAV banked passively, its gimbal gunpod cannon throwing muzzle flashes across its flat, stark grey, glassless canopy. It flowed along the ship's port side, West to East, firing its shrieking bursts perpendicular across the forward compartments of Decks 02 and 03. Armour-piercing rounds tore through bulkhead and deck, starting small fires where hot metal passed through curtains and textile upholstery. Throughout it all, a single bulkhead and 4 metres of dead space separated the team from the hailstorm of high-velocity hell. Then, as abruptly as it started, the shooting stopped. Tashtego announced the end of his run and moved to reposition his Snow Cub drone into a holding pattern. Reyes and Ishmael team picked themselves up off the deck. Everyone on the team was wounded in some way. There were grazing hits, lacerations from flying spall and metal splinters, bruises, and gunshot wounds in a variety of non-critical areas- and yet each man was on his feet in seconds, taking turns reloading or quickly slapping field dressing onto larger wounds. Reyes had barely finished binding field dressing to his forearm and scalp when Nash shouted for the team to get up and reconsolidate. Forward security, provided by the pointman watching the ladderway going up had never faltered. Throughout the barrage of autocannon suppression, his carbine muzzle remained set firmly towards the enemy position. The team stacked up behind him, leaving 2 of the worst wounded to link up with Queequeg team, which was coming up to help with casualties and security. Reyes took a quick look behind him and surveyed the destruction that was Deck 03. The whole place looked somewhere between the inside of a cheese grater and a car chopshop. The scene was backlit by the glow of a few small fires as curtains, seats, and loose clothing smouldered. "HVT* capture is a priority. Ready gas", Nash ordered as the team donned their masks, the pointman last as he donned his while an adjacent teammate covered him. *HVT- High Value Target. In this case, the Rezina's officers. The operators behind the pointman prepped teargas grenades as he resumed his position. Nash counted his fingers down and the grenades were thrown. They hit metal deep in the deck above and deployed their hissing payloads of 2-chlorobenzylidene malononitrile. A pregnant few seconds of stiff silence passed, the team holding their poses like killer automatons as the gas was given time to deploy fully. Then, Nash signalled the team and tapped the pointman on the shoulder. The team strode in a quick beat, carbines sweeping as they split into 2 fireteams first moving laterally to the corners closest to the landing. The moment the last man in each fireteam was set, they advanced into the deck passageways, reminiscent of an old-time skirmish line of light foot infantry stalking through enemy ground. The atmosphere was hazy through the green hue of night vision. The gas had spread and while not a cloud of fog anymore, still hung about as a haze that permeated the edges of Reyes' night vision picture and gas mask visor. Furniture had been kicked over. A few dead lay in the corner, one with his foot blasted off beside the scorch mark of his own dropped grenade. The passageways connecting to wardrooms and cabins were a mess. 20mm penetration holes were punched into the metal bulkheads here and there. The team stalked through, following blood trails and the faint sound of coughing and wheezing. A crewman stood at the end of one passageway, on all fours, trying to breathe through the cloth of his sleeve. He put his other arm up in surrender as he coughed violently. As the fire team approached, trying to keep the coughing man covered while the rest cleared the cabins that fed into the passageway, several things happened. A hatch slammed open and a man ran at Reyes in the hazy space of the passageway, his eyes glowing madly in the display of his night vision. At the same beat, shouting came from within the cabin as another man rushed out, wheezing and babbling incoherent Suverine. His hands up, his eyes streaming with tears. Then, the kneeling, coughing surrender at the end of the hallway reached for something out of view on his hip. Reactions happened all at once. Reyes instinctively jabbed out with his carbine muzzle and struck the man rushing him in the windpipe. The fire team shouted for compliance, trying to cover the newly emergent unknowns from the cabin on the right. The man at the end of the passageway pulled something from his hip. The pointman could scarcely see the kneeling man at the end of the corridor. He made a decision with only a millisecond to process what was happening. A shot rang out from the pointman's carbine. The man at the end of the passageway dropped, revealing a kerchief in his hand. Chaos erupted. The wheezing, babbling man screamed and tried to run down the passageway, away from the fire team. The man who'd been jabbed in the windpipe grabbed at Reyes' leg, his fingers closing towards his pistol holster. Another hatch at the end of the passageway was thrown open, revealing a man with a rifle. The rifleman got a single burst off before the pointman and the operator behind him dropped the shooter with a pair of rounds each. The rifleman's burst struck the fleeing crewman in the chest as he ran straight into harm's way. Reyes struck down, his carbine stock striking the grasping man's head with a loud crack. He quickly kicked the man aside and followed up with a 3-round burst into the now-supine man as he shouted for compliance through his gas mask and cleared the opened right-hand cabin with a partner. It was less of a cabin and more of a wardroom converted into a storage room of sorts. Reyes and his partner cleared it quickly before Reyes turned on the items strewn about the room. There were paper files, computers, and drives- most of which appeared to have been in the process of destruction by the crew. It almost seemed like they were moving the contents of an office in here. But it was the corpses in the corner that gave Reyes the most pause. About half a dozen unarmed men and women in civilian clothes. All were executed with a single pistol calibre shot to the head. Reyes documented everything. Getting their faces, prints and dental to run through the database. The blood pooled underneath them was already congealing so they had probably been killed far earlier, at the first sign of trouble. The corpses were also already beginning to seize into rigor mortis, though not completely. This made proper dental impressions difficult to get and required a hasty and unsavoury bit of prying to get at. On Reyes' chest, his body cam streamed, the cold crystal lens recording everything live for the Ops Centre. --- Reyes would later secure and search some 4 intact drives and a few kilos of unburnt paper files in addition to discoveries made in the lower cargo decks that confirmed the SSO's fears. There were parts for rocket engines, 3 stages of them. However, there were no re-entry vehicles, no warheads, no fissile material... and yet, the contents of partially destroyed files pointed to guidance on the creation of nuclear enrichment infrastructure. The implications were quite clear. Though much of the facts made little sense to Reyes. The Anglians had no nuclear weapons- there was not even the faintest shred of evidence to support that idea. If they did and were sending valuable skillsets and knowledge over, wouldn't they have taken greater care to put their eggs in different baskets? The attempt to delay the boarding, the resistance, the attempt to destroy critical evidence, the mercs- ID'd as veterans from various Europan nations; all normal signs for the level of value transported on the Rezina. Things didn't quite connect but if Reyes' experience was anything to go by, reactions and contingencies by Iverican command were already in motion. Solano, his Ops Officer, had been watching the whole thing from the Lucero and had no doubt issued a priority warning the moment the hints about the intended payload came to light. It was likely that the FedCom governments were already in a heightened Defensive Condition. If Reyes could guess the knee-jerk reaction this would elicit from Corregidor*, plans were likely being approved strat bomb all possible enrichment and missile assembly sites. Reyes had to review and come up with a thesis, fast. He had to draw better conclusions before the situation spiralled into the fait accompli he feared from the start. --- OOC: Radio protocols were shortened here as putting the entire dialogue in would have just made this unnecessarily longer. There are some things that wouldn't have happened in ordinary circumstances but I adjusted for entertainment value. At the very least, nothing impossible happened. The oddness and inconsistency of their findings is a plotpoint of the larger narrative which will be explained in future shorts. For now, this concludes the short story, Operation Whaler. TLDR: pew-pew bang-bang, whooooosh. Oh no, dead people DD: The SOAR team boards the MV Rezina. Reyes finds that there is evidence supporting Anglian-Koudish plotting to arm Koudiland with nuclear weapons. Encountering unusually stiff resistance, the team finds ICBM parts but no warhead or nuclear material. They also find what appear to be dead nuclear-development personnel and files linked to nuclear enrichment plans. Reyes is highly suspicious of the motives and the bigger picture as certain details do not add up. 10 Link to comment
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