Beautiful Caladria

[Hadash]

28 Quartyr, 1582 | Histria, Caladria

For long, Caladria had been a boring and calm island country in the northern Mandavines. Although it may remained a bitter and controversial memory in Carpathia, the real Caladria was only interested for ordinary tourists and businessmen. Since the Democratic Republic of Caladria was proclaimed, and under the Constitution of 1408, the small island nation had experienced a stable existence. For most of a century, excluding a few sporadic exceptions, the federal government had been ruled by the Republican Party, which evolved from a liberal democratic political party in the early 1410s to a more typical center-right political party in the last decades. This ended in 1570, when the leader of the centrist Social Liberal Party Marian Puscas became Prime Minister as consequence of an agreement with the center-left Green Party.

Four years later, the Republican Party recovered and came very close to the absolute majority. However, Marian Puscas could continue as Prime Minister, forming a coalition government with the Green Party and the support of the Native Party, which represented the interest of the Caladrian remaining indigenous ethnic group, known as Sarda people. The coalition government introduced a more left-leaning policy, increasing taxes, green policies, a new welfare programs. The coalition government would win the elections of 1578, and Marian Puscas would become the first non-Republican Prime Minister to be reelected twice in Caladria since 1438.

Fourteen months ago, however, Marian Puscas announced his resignation as Prime Minister. He was replaced by Florica Donceanu, his Deputy Minister and Minister of Justice, who became the first female Prime Minister in the history of Caladria. As Puscas administration had lost the support of the Native Party a few months ago, Donceanu had to rely in the support of the left-wing Socialist Party to be confirmed as Prime Minister. On Alvan 1582, Marian Puscas would become President of Caladria, a rather ceremonial role.

---

An expensive car stopped in front of the Imperium Hotel, the most exclusive and expensive hotel of the city of Histria. A grey-haired man wearing a blue suit got off the car and entered in the hotel. Both the security guard at the entry of the hotel and the hotel receptionist easily recognized him, as he was Mordechai Canaan, the richest man in Caladria who was also the owner of the Imperium Hotel.

"Good evening, Mr. Canaan", Martina, the young receptionist, said. "Mr. Baicoeanu and another men asked about you. They told me they were waiting for you. They are currently in the bar".

"Yes, excellent", Canaan said, with a rather tired tone. "I will be at the Imperium suite. Tell someone to bring them up in ten minutes".

"Yes, sir", Martina replied. "Here you have the keys. Good night".

---

Ten minutes later, someone knocked the door at the Imperium suite, which was known to be the most expensive room in Caladria. Canaan opened the door, and two men entered. One of them was Lucian Baiconeanu. A former MP and Minister from the Republican Party, he had retired from politics many years ago, becoming a successful businessman.

"I introduce you Bogdan, he has helped us to get assistance", Baiconeanu told Canaan.

"Which are the news today?", Canaan asked.

"Well, the bad news is Barbescu", Baiconeanu answered. "I talked with him yesterday. He seems to be feeling remorsements, or at least he wasn't very sure about the success of our mission. I don't think he's going to change his mind now, but I'm not exactly sure if we could count with him when the moment comes".

"Barbescu, that bastard", Canaan said, almost talking with himself. "I have never trusted him".

"I don't think he will compromise us, though", Baiconeanu said, trying to calm Canaan down. "But it shows to me that we were right to not waiting more".

"Do you think we will be successful?", Canaan asked. "We can fail...I can't allow any mistakes".

Baiconeanu looked to the third, younger man. "Everything is ready", he said. His accent clearly showed that he wasn't a Caladrian native.

"We have enough time to prepare everything carefully", Bogdan continued. "We were able to ship enough weapons and vehicles, we did it carefully. There are about 200 of our men on the archipelago. They are prepared to fulfill their task as planned. Once the first phase of the operation is conclusive and successful, we'd be able to have reinforcement to assure full control of the territory".

"I see", Canaan said. He seemed pensive. "But do you think that will be the case? Has anyone done anything like that before?".

"I don't know any precedent, honestly", Bogdan replied. "But there is always a first time. Our men are professional, they have been prepared for situations like this. I can say that many of them have experienced riskier missions. Everything should go fine".

"I wouldn't like to face any dramatic situation", Canaan replied. "I don't want any bloodshed, do you understand? That's not good for business".

"We understand", Bogdan answered. "It's not our interest either. In order to be successful, the key is act quickly. Surprise, and not strength, are the winning card in such situations, despite what some people may believe. It is required that the situation is stabilized soon, if you don't want to face foreign interference as well".

"What about the government?", Canaan asked again. "I'm not sure if having Puscas free is such as good idea".

"That's the only way now", Baiconeanu replied this time. "Outside, he is not a threat in himself. I know [Foreign Minister] Arbore will travel with him, and it is uncertain if [Minister of Defense] Dumitrescu will be as well. I got contradicting reports. That could be a problem. But we are prepared to catch him very soon if he stays. It is better to not think too much about it. There is no alternative. Will you stay here?".

"No", Canaan answered. "I'm leaving today. I'll stay at my home in Polonda".

"That's probably a good idea", Baiconeanu said. "Do you think that Constantin's plan will work?".

"It should", Bogdan replied. "I believe we will be able to neutralize 20% of the police without a shoot and in a minute. Our forces are balanced, that means that surprise and no error should be enough".

"I hope you're right", Canaan said. "If you excuse me, I'm going to prepare myself a drink".

[Hadash]

20 Fein, 1582 | Histria, Caladria

Commisioner Nicolae Ionescu was examining the events in the Athletics Stadium of Histria. Caladria was going to participate in the first Mandavines Police and Firefighters Olympics, held in Magentina at the end of the year, and the first races to choose Caladrian athletes were organized that morning with more than 300 policemen. Ionescu hanged his mobile phone up, and his face suddenly changed, becoming much more severe than five minutes ago.

"Is everything alright, Commisioner?", Deputy Commisioner Nadia Domenescu asked.

"No", Ionescu answered. "It was the Deputy Prime Minister. The Defense Minister is missing, and communications with the Ministry of Internal Affairs were cut, apparently. It's strange, but it may be another failure of the central plant".

But before they could react, a truck crossed the gates of the stadium. Armed men got off the truck, and start aiming their guns to Ionescu and police officers nearby. Ionescu could see dozens of armed guns coming from the secondary gates of the stadium and the building behind the tennis courts.

"Everyone on his knees!", a man shouted. "This is not a game! Follow the orders and everything will be end fine".

---

Lucian Baiconeanu's car stopped in front of the Office of Tourism, a building which belonged to the Ministry of Energy and Industry. The building seemed mostly empty, besides a few guards and policemen. On the third floor, a group of men were waiting him.

"How is everything going?", Baiconeanu asked.

"Everything is going as it was planned", Bogdan Nesterovek asked. "Our men took over the two airdromes and the National Airport is currently under control, as it is the airport in Capidia, which was taken by Bratianu's men. There are some minor...incidences. The ports are as well under control. And two of the military barracks were at least neutralized or isolated".

"Most of police stations are already neutral or under control", Lieutenant-Colonel Savel Paunescu said. "In some cases, we faced more resistence than expected, but the first phase of the operation was a success. Three of the four insular councils are under our control. Ten minutes ago, our men took the Chamber of Deputies, and the Peace Palace is currently under siege".

"We haven't much time", Baiconeanu said. "Everything should be under control soon. I need to talk with Barbescu. As soon as I have finished, I would like to visit the assembly. If the way is safe".

"It is", Paunescu said. "You will escorted there. We will meet thre in twenty minutes".

---

Central Histria, 10:45

Finally, the guards inside the Peace Palace, the residence of the Prime Minister decided to surrender. As soon as it was announced that they were disarmed and arrested, a jeep stopped in front of the building.

"Everything is under control, sir", one policeman said.

"Is the Prime Minister inside?", Assistant commissioner Petre Florian asked.

"Yes, sir", the same policeman replied.

"Prepare a car. We're moving to the presidential palace", Florian said before entering the building.

When he entered in the office of the Prime Minister, Florian could see the Prime Minister, who was visibly irritated, along two policemen. Florian could see that one the windows had a few holes, without another was completely broken, along bullet casings on the floor.

"You're under arrest now, Prime Minister", Florian said. "We are moving to Prosperitate. Obey and you will be safe".

"Obey!?", Prime Minister Florica Donceanu exclaimed. "You have no authority to do so! Stop this nonsense!", she screamed.

"You're not in charge anymore", Florian replied.

"Traitor!", Donceanu said, while wrestling with the two policemen.

"Stop!", Florian said, just before slapping the Prime Minister. She fell to the floor. "Tie her up and bring her to the car, I'll be waiting", he said to the policemen.

"Yes, sir", one of the policemen replied.

---

National Airport, 13:01

Two big cargo aircrafts just landed in the Histria National Airport, they had come from Jumbie City, Lusby & Corwyn. They were the only jets in all the airport, as all flights were ordered to leave the country. Hundreds of men, wearing an strange uniform, left the cargo aircrafts.

Two men approached the pilot of one of the aircrafts, who had just lighted a cigarette. One of the two men, easily recognized him.

"Radoslav", Bogdan Nesterovek said, "it has been a long time. What's your name nowadays".

"Indeed", the man smiled, "I believe Szymond was my name the last time I visited these islands, but I can't remember. How is everything going?".

"We are facing some issues in the other island, but here everything is in order. The norther headquarters didn't come to the senses, unfortunately, and there are a few idiots around causing problems", Bogdan explained.

"I see", the pilot said. "Well, that's the reason we brought these dudes. It's time they do their job".

"Where are we going now", the third man asked.

"Tell them to change their clothes", Bogdan said to the pilot. "There are some uniforms in those buckets".

"You will take 150 men to the port, in those trucks", Bogdan explained now to the third man, "they should be enough to control the situation. Unfortunately, the airport there is not safe enough. So you will have to use the ship. We control all the patrol vessels, so you should reach there without opposition. I'll take the rest to the north".

"Excellent", the third man said. "Let's move!", he ordered to a group of Caladrian soldiers who were looking with curiosity to the recently landed units. They seemed gloomy and serious, but with an unfriendly look, they thought.

---

Bradea, 13:08

The situation in Capidia, the second largest island of the Caladrian archipelago, was confusing. Bradea, the island's capital, had waken up with unconfirmed reports of policemen and security guards seizing police stations and government buildings in several districts of the city. The residence of the First Minister was one of those buildings, and the whereabouts of the First Minister and several members of the local governments were unknown. As hours passed, it seemed clear that there have been a coup d'etat in Histria, the capital city of Caladria.

The Bradea Assembly building, the local legislature in the island, had resisted, protected by a group of policemen. The rebel forces, unsure about their safety in the middle of the center, decided to withdraw, moving back to a military airdrome two kms from Bradea.

Simona Hasdeu, the Speaker of the Assembly was meeting with a group of assemblymen in her office. A year ago, unlike in Histria where the result was rather disappointing, the Republican Party had obtained a great result in Bradea, winning the absolute majority in the second largest island. Then, Hasdeu, a young local lawmaker, was appointed as Speaker of the Assembly, the second highest political rank in the local government, while his boss, Eugen Foarda, became First Minister of Bradea for second time.

"What are we going to do?", one of them asked. They could hear from there a heated discussion in the main hall, between several assemblymen of different parties.

"I've just talked with the President, who is in Magentina", Hasdeu replied, clearly worried. "Things are going really wrong in Histria. Could you talk with Goga".

"No", a man answered. "He's missing. I talked with his wife, though. It doesn't look he came either here or the other building, and nobody came to take him at his house. But nobody could contact with him so far".

"Is anyone coming?", Speaker Simona Hasdeu asked.

"I talked with Mircea and Abba, they may come as soon as possible", another assemblyman answered. "The rest is already here, or detained somewhere. I was confirmed that [Deputy First Minister Emil] left the country".

"I see", Simona replied. "Under those circumstances, there is no local government. Or rather we are right now. We need to act now", although she didn't look too much resoluted.

"The situation down there is chaotic", a younger assemblyman said. "We barely keep the quorum, and that's counting every faction. We don't control the situation anymore...".

"But we need to do something", Simona replied. "Today is different. There should be an understanding. We haven't another option".

[STRATCOM]

3rd Penal Brigade
Histria National Airport
1301 hours


An older man strode past the formation of uniformed men. His field jacket and cap were not as formal as the brigadiers' uniforms, but clearly related. Entire companies stiffened their backs and straightened up their parade rest as he passed. He crossed the tarmac and approached the pilot and company men just as Bogdan began to issue his orders.

"Mister Nesterovek," the man said in a hard, abrupt accent. "I am Yuri Bogand of the Vestor Mandate Ranger Corps, serving as commander of the Third Penal Brigade. I am a Tier Five officer, though you may better know the rank as Major. I wish to give you a quick gestalt, as it were, on my men that they might better serve you."

He lit a cigarette from his jacket pocket and offered the carton to the assembled men, speaking between puffs.

"The brigade is composed of Tier Thirteen citizens, the lowest in our society. These men have all committed some crime that has led to death, from murder to fatal negligence. They have volunteered for a one year term of service in heavy combat. The survivors will earn commutation of their sentence and an uptiering back to Tier Nine."

MT5 Bogand paused to take a long drag and exhale smoke against the clean Caladrian air.

"They will fight like cornered animals and die in droves, but do not waste these men. A single Vestian life is worth a dozen such as yours. For operational specifics, you will command them directly - I offer only advice and a bit of backbone. Know that these are very light infantry and will struggle against entrenched positions or armor. They are drilled heavily to follow their section leader, to the point where they may need to be ordered to return fire even when under fire. For policing, the men have memorized a few phrases in the native language: 'stop,' 'turn back,' 'return to your homes' and so on. Each company has a translator, but I'd prefer your men do the talking."

Bogand stomped the cigarette butt into a black ashen smudge against the tarmac.

"Have you any questions? Before they go, I require only a minute with them to perform the Ritual of Redemption. Oh! CONCENTRAL tells me you have yet to assign an employee to the MANAOI system. Company commanders will need that information for operations, so make sure you follow up with them."

[STRATCOM]

3rd Penal Brigade
Histria National Airport
1312 hours



MT5 Bogand answered the men's questions, then strode briskly back to the assembled penal companies to perform the Ritual of Redemption. Company commanders saluted, and their men assumed rigid attention. Bogand dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"At ease."

The shuffing boots of the six hundred echoed across the tarmac.

"Men of Vestor and Chiri, MT13s, those who have murdered through action and those who have murdered through inaction, you of the Third Penal Brigade - hear me, and well. Your crimes deserve death, but you will be given a second chance. Your victims cry out from the grave, but you will not join them just yet. We have accepted your applications for penal service, and your one-year term starts today. Survivors at the end of that year will be uptiered back to MT9 and their records sealed. Those who die will die in glory, and your next of kin will be uptiered to honor your death. Consequently, deserters will be shot and those who surrender will be left to robber-baron tortures - and your next of kin will be downtiered for your dishonor. Do not fail them. Do not fail me."

Bogand retrieved another coffin nail from his breast pocket and lit it, puffing as he spoke.

"Our employer has brought us here to redeem these islands from foreign degeneracy, but I have brought you here to redeem yourselves. You will fight men better equipped, better supplied, better reinforced - that is by design. There is no sacrifice without struggle. Where the foe will be savage, we will be swift. Where he is brutal, we will be cunning. Your only reinforcement will be your own mind, so use it well. Follow your commanders without hesitation or question, for it will save your life. I, too, will be with you. Not only advising your commanders with the same cunning of Durak's Pass and Hill 450, but alongside you with rifle butt and bayonet should the need arise. As you will give your lives to our people, I will give my life to you."

The thin cloud of smoke around him reflected the midday light like a halo. The one addressing them was no longer the grandfatherly officer Yuri Bogand, but MT5 Bogand the lionhearted, chainsmoking angel of death.

"Now, you six hundred, go and fight as true citizens would. Live or die, I will see you redeemed this day. Wherever you go, translators, whether to the ports or the airports or the radio stations or the government offices - tell them that no native will be leaving the islands. Your company commanders will follow your words with force if need be. Assemble lists of the pilots, ship captains, radio technicians, police officers, and government officials wherever you go. We will need their services when we dig in. Dismissed."

Bogand took a long, final drag on his cigarette and let it smolder on the runway.

"Tell them to keep their Vestian uniforms in their packs," he said in a low whisper to the brigade XO, gesturing to their foreign uniforms they wore. "We will need every resource for deception if we are to survive this."

The six hundred stuffed their packs with their old uniforms, shouldered their rifles, and followed their Mir handlers onto the ships. From there, they went to Histria, Bradea, and other government-held sites on Caladria and Capidia. Soon the fighting would begin. The specter of war hastened over the islands, not quick to disperse.

[Flo]

Headquarters of the Mandavine Community
Riveralda, Magentina
26 Fien, 1582

The situation had grown dire. Just a week ago, things had been normal. Now, Juan Delgado, the Secretary of the Mandavine Community, had a crisis on his hands. One of the biggest in recent memory. The Mandavine region was a traditionally stable place. The excitement and upheaval typically took place on the mainland. The simple truth was there was not often much worth bothering about in the islands, and things had been well because of that.

With the situation in Caladria, a member state of the Mandavine Community, growing more dire, he felt he had no choice. Diplomats from the Florinthian Federation and Holy Lanlanian Empire were summoned and in simple terms were asked to solve the problem. Their fleets were in the area and the Mandavine Community was not a military entity. The islands meanwhile were ill equipped to handle such a situation. Many relied on larger neighbors to protect them, namely Nyland, Florinthus, and Lanlania. This would have to be the case again, though after the recent events, the Mandavines may need to admit that their paradise may not be so peaceful anymore.

What it meant is that, for the time being, Lanlania and Florinthus, with the blessing and support of the Mandavine Community and Nyland, would be asked to fix the problem and re-assert the proper government in Caladria. There was a mess, and the Brigidnans would be asked to fix it. The fact that their navies were so close was a factor, as well as the fact that they both were already invested in the region. Florinthian fleets had been in Lusby and the Brennagen Isle's for decades, even after independence, and the Lanlanians did the same for their territories.

The hope was that the Brigidnans could solve the problem quickly and cleanly. Only time would tell if that would be the case.

[Ayzek]

HIMS Aland
20 km south of Caladria
07:38 P.M. 26 Fien 1582

"We've been cleared for operations," said an officer, turning to the room behind him. Behind the line of CIC communications and control equipment were the higher ranked officers gathered around an electronic map of the region, in the midst of planning the Holy Lanlanian intervention in Caladria.

"About bloody time," said the brigadier general, a large man with a gruff face. He'd looked forward to an eventless tour, his last one before retirement; but now, here he was, sending boys into an insignificant backwater island for God knows why. "We've given them nearly a week to dig in and pressure pockets of resistance."

"We'll, it's given us ample time to concentrate forces in the region," a junior officer murmured, "so it's not all bad." Indeed, the HIMS Aland itself was an amphibious assault ship, flagship of the 2nd Marine Immediate Reaction Force. Based out of Gynavae, it had arrived only yesterday, escorted by the 44th and 45th Squadrons of the Mandavine Fleet. Elements of the 66th Rangers had also been flown into Davon. The Florinthians and Oslanburgians also committed paratroopers, which'd joined the Holy Lanlanian on Davon. Elements of the ground forces of the Mandavine Community member-states were congregating in Argune, to be ferried into Caladria after ports had been secured. All in all, allied ground forces numbered nearly ten-thousand.

"And the situation isn't all bad," said another officer. "Bradea and South Caladria broadcasted this morning that no hostile forces have landed, while government forces in Capidia have continued to mounted a fierce resistance at the city there."

"We'll need to reinforce them at the earliest opportunity," the brigadier general commented.

"If they're still in control of the city's port," added the liaison from the Magentina's Self Defense Force, "we could land there as soon as the Mir escorts are disabled."

"Indeed. The HMS Drammend and is escorts have already committed to neutralize hostile naval forces." The Drammend was the flagship of Holy Lanlanian 4th Fleet, a Starslagen Class supercarrier. "The 66th Squadron has a clear line of sight. Once they've cleared a path, the 44th will escort your landing crafts onto Capidia." The liaison nodded. "We'll coordinate with government forces on there to ensure you've a safe landing zone.

"In the meantime, we'll prepare to land the 4th, 5th, and 6th Battalions on the main island first thing tomorrow morning. Any concerns?" Under the brigadier general's confident gaze, the rest of the Holy Lanlanian officers and partnered liaisons remained silent. "Excellent, then. Relay the orders to the rest of the force and open a channel with the defend—"

He was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. "Urgent update for the command team."

"Go on."

"We're receiving reports of a volcanic eruption on Polonda," said the officer, entering the room. "Bridge has visually confirmed: there's a big ass plume rising out there."

"Shit. Which one of these godforsaken islands is that?" The general looked at one of  his officers, "coordinate with the Drammend and prepare for an evacuation. The 4th fleet is better equipped to organize it but we'll be damned if we don't help out."


HIMS Elintar
38 km NW of Caladria
07:48 P.M.

The HIMS Elintar was a Holy Lanlanian Halvadag-class battleship and the lead ship of the the 66th Squadron. Armed with railguns, guided missiles, and state-of-the-art point defense systems, the Halvadag class was a floating fortress capable of single-handedly crushing the navies of some countries. A true symbol of Holy Lanlanian naval power. Part of the 4th Fleet, the Elintar had maneuvered further west than the main force, and was positioned to achieve naval superiority of Caladrian waters. From its standby scene a few dozen kilometers northwest of the islands, it was capable of firing both missiles and railgun slugs at any point on the islands.

And, indeed, it'd just received authorization to do so.

"Attention unauthorized vessels," the communications officer broadcasted over multiple radio frequencies, attempting to contact the Mir/coup-aligned vessels between the islands. "This is the HIMS Elintar of the Holy Lanlanian Imperial Navy. You are recognized to have cooperated with insurgent forces engaged in an unlawful coup d'etat of a sovereign nation-state. You are ordered to surrender immediately and submit to an Imperial boarding or we will engage."

As the officer repeated the broadcast in multiple languages, the captain watched from his post. His thoughts were interrupted by the second radio officer, "The Aland reports that a volcanic eruption has occured on the Caladrian island of Palonda."

The captain nodded. "The carriers will handle it. We've our own priorities."

"No response yet, sir," the first officer commented.

"Prepare to fire a railgun salvo," the captain ordered the weapons officers. "We'll give them a few more minutes. Pass word along to the Larix Lyalli and its sister ship."

"Sir."

While the Elintar and its screen ships were at a distance, other elements of the squadron were of more immediate threat to the couping forces. The Larix Lyalli and the Picea Glauca were two Larix Decidua class destroyers within twelve kilometers of the islands, and moving closer to the Mir ships.

[STRATCOM]

MANAOI Tactical Printout for Foreign Consumption
City of Bradea
One week ago

Government Unit 3 mobilizes far ahead of all others, rounding the port to investigate reports of landings. The 4th Company of the Vestor 3rd Penal moves up to establish a secure operation zone for the Mir handlers.

"Governmental forces of the degenerate island, on behalf of the Mir corporation you are requested to lay down arms and comply with instructions. Failure to comply will be met with potentially inhumane deservicing."

The government forces scatter but are not cowed. They regroup and raid local police armouries for heavier stuff. The 2nd company moves up to support the 4th. Gov. 3 is now fully aware of the invasion, and Gov 1. follows behind it. Gov. 3 pulls back to a fighting position, while Gov. 1 races up to meet them. 2nd Company and Mir 3 move up in expectation of hostilities from the Gov forces.

In a brilliant display of communication, all government forces remaining on the island are aware of the coup attempt, but have little logistical resources between them. Gov 3 pulls back to make a more adequate fighting line in the Residential Districts, leaving the port and industrial districts to foreign control.

The government forces dig in, not yet confident enough to assault the infantry. The Penal lines advance. Unit 2 moves up to complete the line on the interstate. Traffic backs up and media begins to catch on that a coup is in progress.

"Government forces, this is your final chance for surrender."

Unit 3 seizes in fear as it sees men with very large rifles bearing down on them. It scatters for the next few hours. Unit 2, led by a hothead milita commander, sees Unit 3 fleeing and assumes they were routed. The commander orders an advance by street. The militamen, many still in their day clothes and some unarmed, fire on the Vestian infantry. Unit 2 bloodies the Vestian nose, retreats back to the interstate where it hopes police forces are emboldened.

Gov 1 and 2 retreat to a housing block where it is hoped they can find elevation and cover. The Penal lines shift a little.

Government forces hold tight in the projects, radioing the state of the coup to Histeria. Little do they know it has already fallen. The government forces cower in the projects.

Unit 1 is wiped out.

"Remaining Governmental forces, we desire no further bloodshed. If you lower your arms and cease hostilities you will be treated fairly and justly as a citizen defending their nation. For the duration of the presence of our forces you will be held in jail or prison cells."

The remaining police commander shouts obscenities from the projects roofs. Despite his bold display, the remaining police will not mobilize against these infantry. They pay for their fear with their lives, and government resistance in the city is quelled. 134 police and militiamen lie dead, and 67 are rushed to hospitals under guard. 5 penal brigadiers have earned their Redemption. 595 remain.

[STRATCOM]

Various Locations, Histria
Over the following week

Earth.



"I am truly astonished," MT5 Bogand said between drags on his ever-present cigarette. "These were riot police and local militia armed more heavily and presumably trained more professionally than the brigadiers. Perhaps we will yet surprise the foreign invaders."

He gazed out upon the city from the northern hills near Histria Airport. A dozen brigadier officers and local government adjutants stood behind him in conference on the windswept agora.

"Half a league, half a league, half a league onward," he intoned.

"Sir?" his adjutant interrupted.

"Something I heard once," Bogand said, waving away the smoke and his thought. "Report."

"Relocations are complete, sir," the adjutant continued. "Civilians have been evicted from select low-incoming housing blocks and relocated to tent camps blocking the road at your specified junctures: both ends of the Highway 41/Highway 120 interchange, the start and end of Highway 36, National 7 at the Radio CRAF exit, and the southern end of Highway 120. All civilian traffic is redirected off those roads and the tent camps are growing quite thick and wide across the roadways. I expect that even if the civilians are immediately evicted it will take some time to restore those roads to working order, sir."

"And the barricades?"

"Yes, local police barricades were brought out of storage to block the roads at each end of the civilian encampments. It will keep cars from causing any unfortunate accidents for now-"

"-and force enemy armor caravans to stop in a killzone to remove them later," Bogand smiled, finishing the thought. "And those buildings I asked you about in the other district, are they evacuated of civilians?"

"Not entirely evacuated, sir. It's a wide area. Some hundreds refuse to comply with the evacuation order."

"All the better! Order those remaining not to leave. Allow relatives and friends to bring them food and supplies, but those who refused to comply cannot leave anymore. We'll occupy the empty rooms as firing positions and hope the foreigners are not so heartless as to carpet bomb buildings with civilians inside."

The young adjutant fidgeted but said nothing.

"Oh, you think they will," Bogand chuckled, stamping out his cigarette. "You are wise beyond your years, MT13, but the eyes of the world are upon us. I suspect their soft leaders will not let them get away with killing more civilians than our number."

Water.



A trio of civilian-registered ships fled out of the port and south, hoping to find safer waters. Whether the penal brigadiers had intended them to flee or they had slipped their chains was unclear. It was clear that the brigadiers closed the opportunity an hour later when a number of regional freighters were maneuvered into the narrowest point of the channel end to end and intentionally sunk. A jungle of superstructure now jutted out of the shallow water at unnatural angles, perturbing the calm water.

"Waste of good ships," said 2nd Company's translator to the civilian dockmaster.

"Then why sink them?" the civilian asked in desperation.

"Bad defensive position," the brigadier replied, fumbling for a pack of liberated local smokes. "Harbor extremely easy to take in previous state. No mines available, so run big ships aground and sink them. No more harbor, only little lake. Into the valley of death."

One of the ships settled against its neighbor with a low gurgle that shook the water. Oil began to seep to the surface in thin streams, annoying the ducks who were using the tangled mess as shade against the mid-day sun. They quacked and flapped their wings angrily as they took off for cleaner water. The brigadier took a few hesitant puffs of the local coffin nails while the dockmaster watched his career sink like the scuttled freighters.

"Your smokes are shit," the brigadier concluded.

Wind.



"Do as I told you and this will be very nice and easy time for you," the 3rd Company's translator said to the civilian pilot a row ahead of him. The translator stretched his legs in the rear passenger seat of the civilian plane. Another uniformed man occupied the passenger seat next to him, loaded down with civilian camera equipment 'liberated' from local professional shops.

"Yes, sir," the pilot whispered, gripping the controls with all his might to hide his shaking hands.

"Do you see ships?" he asked, jutting his finger towards the windshield.

"Y-yes," said the Caladrian recreational pilot, breathing unevenly. "Two big ships at eleven o'clock, p-probably ten kilometers north. And two smaller ones, closer in."

"That's a good little cube. Those will be Mir's," the translator said, rubbing his chin. "Keep us low and bring us closer. Really close. Buzz their towers on the biggest ones, you vox me? Then wheel around slowly so we can see the ships from all angles. If you don't do it, we approach all over again until Yuri has pictures he wants. You want good pictures, don't you Yuri?"

Yuri, the photographer, grunted assent from beneath his pile of photographic equipment.

"Ah, don't mind Yuri," the translator chuckled. "He's clipped - ah, nerve stapled. Sidestepped the dezzing just in time to help me flash fry our section leader. Now we're both jokered."

He stretched out in the luxurious interior. This was easily the most comfortable plane ride he'd ever been in. Degenerate foreigners may be scum but they sure knew how to fly in style.

"Yuri, my friend, there's two or three uptierings apiece for us if we pull this off for the esteemed MT5."

"Ours not to reason why," Yuri finally spoke with the rumbling of old gears being put in motion, "just to do or die."

...

"So your radar will give us approach angles for their aircraft?" MT5 Bogand questioned, lighting up in the clearly marked No Smoking aircraft control center.

"If their transponders are on," the ATC manager hedged nervously. "Or if they leave a large radar profile."

"Charging an army while all the world wonders," Bogand said, shaking his head in amusement. "I will leave a representative of the Lieutenant-Colonel here so you do not feel threatened. Please tell him as soon as you have something and he will radio me. Do not worry, we will defend this island together."

The manager did not know what face to make.

Fire.



"I don't know how it works, you journo rout, just make it work," 5th Company's translator urged the technical staff at Radio CRAF. "Do you vox me?"

"It's not that simple," the manager said, biting off every word. "We don't know what frequency you want, or what kind of signal to broadcast! And even if we did do it, they'd bomb us the first chance they got. I'm not dying for this new government."

"So don't," the translator said, countenance dripping with annoyance as he stuffed a wad of chewing tobacco into his mouth. "Set it to sweep all frequencies on repeat and get the hell out of here. All we need you to do is set it."

"Fine," the manager hissed in exasperation. "But they can't try me for attempting to jam military GPS signals. I-I'm being held at gunpoint!"

The translator slowed his chew to look down at his own holstered pistol, then to his brigadier escort who fully engrossed in playing with the soundboard across the room, rifle shouldered.

"Not exactly stormed at with shot and shell," the translator mumbled. "Whatever you say, journo."


Histria, Caladria
Present day

The whole world seemed wreathed in supernatural silence as the clouds broke above the islands. All local radio and telecom stations were off the air or inaudible as they broadcast their jamming attempts. Independent of outside information, it seemed clear that the counterattack would come any hour, any minute now. Civilians tensed involuntarily, some sheltered mere meters away from the penal brigadiers. Into the valley of death rode the six hundred.

[Ayzek]

HIMS Picea Glauca
12 km NE of Histria Island
Earlier

"Come in Unidentified aircraft. Come in unidentified aircraft. You are approaching a Holy Lanlanian Imperial Navy vessel. Identify yourself and break course immediately or be shot down. Over."


HIMS Elintar
38 km NW of Caladria
07:54 P.M.

"Target vessels have hidden themselves in the shadow of the island, sir," said a radar operator. "Coordination with other vessels suggests they've docked at Histria's outer ports facilities."

The Captain nodded curtly. "Which vessel confirmed this?"

"The Saint Islands. They're on a course approximately 56 kilometers to our east and have a clear view of the Histria." The Saint Islands was another of the empire's Halvadag-class battleships.

"Sir," began a radio officer, "Rear Admiral orders that we refrain from firing on unidentified vessels. Says that three vessels have escaped from the harbor and are seeking shelter. The 45th is to intercept and search them before they reach Argune. The Saint Islands will continue to monitor the enemy vessels."

"Captain," started a second operator, "Charlie Division reports they're experiencing jamming attempts and are requesting ARM fire."

"Are the sources on the authorized targets list?"

"Just checked, sir," said a lower officer. "We've been authorized to engage any commercial and governmental high-powered radios used by the insurgents to sabotage our signals. That includes 70% of EM emitters currently broadcasting on the island. I've isolated those reported to be radio and television stations liable to be under occupation."

"Target them all and prepare to fire."

There was a flurry of activity as his officers dove to work. Within a few minutes, the volcano's plume wasn't the only smoke rising into the heavens. The trails of multiple Holy Lanlanian anti-radiation missiles streaked from the Elintar towards Caladria. Though most were targeting the more powerful broadcasters attempting to jam the allied fleet, the radar station was also targeted.


HIMS Cidrus Dedora, 45th Squadron, Bravo Division
Between Histria Island and Argune
08:14 P.M.

"Attention Osak Express," said the destroyer's radio operator, "this is the HIMS Cidrus Dedora of the Holy Lanlanian Imperial Navy. You are in a combat zone and must be searched before we direct you to a Argunian port. Do you comply? Over."

As the communications officer contacted the last of the three vessels that escaped Histria's port, the last of six helicopters loaded with marines left the decks of the Hioly Lanlanian ships and made their way low over the water to meet them.

Southern Histria Island, Caladria
02:14 A.M., 27 Fien 1582

The southeastern coast of the island was fairly quiet under the dim moonlight. The waves were lapping and roaring softly against the sands and rocks of the beach nearly ten kilometers south of the nearest city. Needless to say, this was perhaps not to last, as this was one of the locations chosen as a potential landing site. The allied forces were already finalizing preparations for a landing that'd been planned since news of the coup first hit the Holy Lanlanian Empire.

So it was that a faint buzzing approached the island from the open sea, as a shadow moved against the cloudless sky. The small quadcopter drone zoomed up and down the beach, surveying it and area behind. It was largely flat, with a road crossing not far behind the sands, one end heading towards the city to the north and the other following the coastline west. A splattering of trees lay not far beyond the road, and it was there the drone focused its attention, attempting to spot any signs of hidden of life.

Within a few minutes, an inflatable boat of Florinthian Special Marine Service Specialists would follow the drone onto the island.

Other teams, of both the Florinthian SMS and the Holy Lanlanian SPEARS, were simultaneously being deployed at other points on the islands by submarines.


Polonda, Caladria
05:14 A.M., 27 Fien

The allied liberation of Polonda began with drones. A multitude of Holy Lanlanian Skörd Heavy Combat Support drones appeared from Argune, flying at a low altitude to avoid the plume. These drones would soften defenses not only with their guns and rockets, but also by enabling target acquisition and fire directing for the fleets around the island.

Within an hour of their arrival in Polonda skies, they'd be followed by transport helicopters and landing craft under destroyer escorts. The island of Polonda was selected as a priority due to the humanitarian crisis sparked by the eruption of the volcano there. Red Cross volunteers were eager to land on the island to help, while medical facilities on Argune and the nearby Carpathian hospital ship were available to take on any injured.

[STRATCOM]

Civilian Air Pleasure Cruise
12km NE of Histria Island
Earlier

"Say only that you are fleeing occupation," the brigadier translator said, tapping his sidearm against the back of the pilot's seat convincingly. "You have wife and child with you. Say it and you will live. Ask for safe place to land. However, continue overflight until I say otherwise."

The pilot choked back vomit in his throat, took a few deep breaths, and spoke.

"Holy Lanlanian vessel, this is Lark 155 north out of Histria International. We are fleeing the occupation. Please, d-don't shoot. I-I have my wife and kid onboard. Requesting any safe landing strip in the area, over."

Yuri snapped pictures ceaselessly, moving rhythmically to change camera memory cards and film canisters as if he were reloading a crew-served weapon.

Radio CRAF & Radio CRWS
Southern Histria Island, Caladria
7:59 P.M.

The missiles came invisibly fast and inaudibly loud. It struck Radio CRAF's tower with the vengeance of an angry god, shattering it in an instant. Seconds later the unearthly scene repeated at Radio CRWS, striking its much larger tower with an ominous boom. The supersonic shrapnel rained down into and through the buildings, killing the civilian staff instantly. There was not much to say of their deaths: one moment they were there, anxiously awaiting the signal to be released from their duty and return to their families, the next they were unrecognizable as something that had once held conscious thought.

The Lanlanian liberation of Caladria had begun with these civilians being liberated from their mortal coils.

Histria Airport
Southern Histria Island, Caladria
8:03 P.M.

A missile streaked from the sky and slammed into the radar installation at Histria International with astonishing force. The civilian ATC staff gaped at its suddenness and force as it rattled the glass and immediately sent their radar screens into uselessness. The representative of the local Lieutenant-Colonel ushered them out, then radioed back to his superior. The Histria International radar asset was down and out.

The civilian radar burned violently as the staff squinted at it from the waiting buses.

Unidentified Civilian-Flagged Vessels
5km SE of Caladria
8:12 P.M.

The trio steamed southeast with all due haste: two civilian ferries and a Caladrian Coast Guard vessel leading them. They moved aimlessly against the waves, seemingly unsure of which destination to shoot for. They meandered ever closer to Argune and the 45th, which moved to intercept them. They had no way of knowing either of these, for their meager civilian surface radar was wholly unequipped for the open ocean. So too were the boats: the civilian ferries tacked to cut the larger waves.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday," came the call over the radio, "This is Coast Guard patrol vessel Oscar-12, leading two civilian craft out from Caladria Harbor. They have refugees onboard from the city. Both craft are running low on fuel. We require rescue immediately. To any friendly naval vessels, mayday, mayday, mayday..."

The voice was difficult to make out against the roiling static of the short-range transmission, but it could be said the radio operator had a distinct accent.

City of Histria
02:20 A.M., 27 Fien 1582

With the civilian curfew in full effect and the penal brigadiers all but confirmed to be holed up in the city among civilians, the drone spotted very little on its way to the city. Farther north, the smoke plumes of the airport radar and civilian transmitters occluded small streaks of the starlit sky.

The drone could follow National Highway 7 as it hugged the coast on its northward journey to the city proper, but all it picked up was the solemn glow of the streetlights. Its prey was much farther north, and concentrated.

Polonda, Caladria
05:14 A.M., 27 Fien

MT5 Bogand listened to the sparse reports from Polonda trickle in. While there were no brigadiers there, he could not help but feel sorry for the poor bastards. Whatever local forces and Mir handlers were stationed there were being beat to hell with drones and naval support fire, but not so much as the civilians that got in their way. Bogand had not heard of so many urgent calls for civilian medevac and reports of hospitals overflowing even in the truly dark days of the Great Patriotic Resistance. He had hoped that the hesitance of the foreign powers to bomb civilians would buy his men a better chance at glorious close combat, but this Lanlania seemed to care so little for the lives that it 'liberated' that the tactic was quickly becoming moot.

Brigadier Dead, In Gloriam: 5
MT13 Anastasiy Andreev, 24, in death MT9
MT13 Savva Kedzierski, 35, in death MT9
MT13 Serafim Chayka, 19, in death MT9
MT13 Taras Krupin, 29, in death MT9
MT13 Yuri Romanov, 33, in death MT9

Civilian Dead, In Memoriam: 51
Agrita Sofronescu, 35
Alexandru Corman, 27
Ana Stoichici, 42
Augustin Stern, 32
Aurel Lipo, 17
Calin Donici, 19
Camelia Ceama, 23
Carmen Mutu, 33
Constantin Kovacs, 38
Corneliu Barb, 63
Costachi Crusitu, 58
Cristina Mindroiu, 54
Daniel Strugaru, 27
Ecaterina Sfetcu, 48
Emilia Szatmary, 28
Floarea Farima, 59
Florentina Dragaica, 16
Florian Cirneala, 17
Georgelia Hornoi, 50
Ghiorghe Stupar, 25
Ghita Acozmei, 45
Ilarie Crisan, 22
Ioan Melnic, 48
Ioan Scarlatescu, 61
Ioan Stolnicu, 54
Ion Calo, 32
Iordana Timar, 55
Lacramioara Gonciar, 64
Leman Totalca, 21
Magdalena Racheleanu, 55
Maria Nicodei, 45
Maria Zirbo, 37
Marin Crasovan, 18
Mihaica Andrasescu, 91
Mihaita Udriste, 81
Nelu Topa, 54
Nica Ibinceanu, 55
Nicusor Ciobanu, 64
Noruta Orasanu, 64
Ovidiu Badilas, 24
Rita Giuvelea, 53
Sabina Gorunescu, 51
Stana Ilcu, 57
Teodor Dragne, 45
Teodosia Frumos, 21
Valerica Irimies, 48
Vasile Gisca, 43
Vicentia Cojocar, 21
Vintila Bernard, 20
Viorica Andreica, 20
Zamfir Dragulin, 48