Liberation of Rygard

Roleplay Library
21

VCS Paladin’s Night, under attack by RRS Gold Death, not far from Vekaiyun vessel

Captain Liso Sikiveri braced herself as the Paladin’s Night took a hit from the RRS Gold Death. “Status!”

“We lost a good bit of our guns ma’am!”

“Damn! Radio for help!”

“Who are you going to call for help,” a frightened seaman asked.

“Anybody who gives a damn!”

“Captain Sikiveri! I’ve detected a Vekaiyun vessel not far from us!”

“Radio them now!”

“SOS! Attention Vekaiyun vessel, this is the VCS cruiser Paladin’s Night! We are under heavy fire from the Rygardi destroyer Gold Death! We need immediate help! Mayday! Mayday!”

The Vulshainian cruiser took another hit.

22

Third Fleet - FPNS Independence
Admiral’s Bridge
The commander of the Third Fleet, Admiral Ralph Holstrom, simply stared at the readout. “That was not a battle,” he stated simply, “it was a slaughter.”

The Admiral’s Adunct, Commander James Clime, nodded in agreement. “None of the thirty planes made it within 150 kilometers of the fleet. They just flew straight at us, then tried to dodge missiles, then were for the most part destroyed.”

“Well, let’s not be cruel,” the Admiral replied after a moment. “Order the Independence to scramble search and rescue to the area where the fighters crashed. Maybe we can save a few…”

“Admiral!” A lieutenant, sitting at a control panel on the other side of the Admiral’s Bridge, interrupted the officer. “AWACS is reporting a new attack force inbound – close to 150 aircraft. Source still underterminable.”

The Admiral swore. “Cancel that search and rescue,” he said to his adjunct, before turning to the Lieutenant. “Order our escorts to fire when ready. Let’s see how many of these we can shoot down at long range.”

“We won’t be able to take out that many,” Clime stated after a moment. “We can fire maybe 50 long-rangers per minute, tops, and it’ll take them no more than two minutes to get here.”

“Have we scrambled everything?” The Admiral asked. A Lieutenant across the room replied in the affirmative. “Alright, then. Order the destroyers and cruiser to fire everything they can, as quickly as they can, at the inbound fighters. We should be able to take out half that force, at least, maybe more. Then, order the CAG to engage – I mean everyone. Fighter-Bombers may not fare well against enemy F-16s, but, they’ll do more than nothing. While the fighters engage, have all ships prepare to launch short-range SAMs, hopefully, we’ll finish them off with those. But put the fleet at alert for close-range battle.”

“Yessir.”

Lieutenant Mel Emosin watched from inside the cockpit of his F/A 18 Hornet as dozens of anti-aircraft missiles steaked past overhead. The Third Fleet was quite careful about its targeting, ensuring that the missiles flew well above the thirty-two air superiority fighters of the Independence, who were patroling the area around 50 kilometers from the fleet.

A career military officer, Emosin commanded Squadron B of the Independence Carrier Air Group, one of the two air superiority squadrons. He directly oversaw sixteen pilots, in that regard, though the commanders of Squadron A (the other sixteen jet air superiority squadron), Squadron C (a twenty jet multi-role fighter squadron), Squadron D (a sixteen jet fighter-bomber squadron), and Squadron E (a sixteen jet fighter-bomber squadron) all held superiority over him.

Nonetheless, Emosin heard the orders from the fleet directly, unlike his three flight commanders, who received orders only from him. “CAG,” the Commodore in command of the Independence stated flatly, addressing the entire group, “we have enemy aircraft inbound. Admiral reports unlikelihood that entire force is destroyed at long-range. You will likely need to engage somewhere between 40 and 60 fighters but that number could be higher. Engage them once they’re within 60 kilometers and don’t let them get closer.”

While the commander of the Carrier Air Group acknowledged the order, Emosin passed it along to his flight commanders, then waited for the enemy fighters to appear on the horizon.

23

Rygardi Hammerhead Fleet, 323 miles from FPS fleet on-route to Rygard

Admiral Elatas Relebyok was a little surprised, but he was clever. “Have the Red Plague, Bloody Manta, and Black Anger launch MIRVs and Predator drones at the enemy, then have them start firing at the enemy ships with missiles. Also, contact Rear Admiral Martin Tyrand of the Viper’s Raven of our northern Cobra Blood Fleet and have his fleet launch fighters as well. While you’re at it, have the Coral Thunder and quietly manuevaur itself behind the FPS fleet, while the Cobra Blood Fleet moves in from the north.”

The F-22 Raptors and F-35 Lightning II fighters took off from the Cobra Blood Fleet’s three Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carriers as MIRVs and Predator drones rocketed towards the FPS ships and fighters. The F-35s and F-22s were equipped with stealth technology, allowing them to attack undetected.

As the fighters took off, the Dragon’s Sword and Calypso’s Doom Raytheon AN/SLQ-32(V) electronic warfare systems were being used to disrupt the FPS ships and fighters radar and equipment.

Meanwhile, RIM-7 Sea Sparrow missiles and Tomahawk missiles were fired at the FPS ships.

Vulshainian Confederate Naval Northern Fleet led by the flagship VCS Canghi, 701 miles from battle between FPS and Rygardi ships and fighters

Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi of the Admiral Kuznetsov-class aircraft carrier, Canghi, listened to the report. “So, the Rygardi are trying to overwhelm the Free Pacific Fleet. Launch all fighters and have every ship to go full steam. I want us to get there before there’s nothing left to assist!”

“Aye, aye, Vice Admiral Pikisi!”

Inside his Sukhoi Su-33 Flanker-D, Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua prepared to take off. Unlike its counterpart, the F-14 Tomcat, the Flanker-D uses a ski-jump instead of a catapult for carrier takeoff. By using the ski-jump, the fighter avoids the high catapult-induced loads, and gives the aircraft a positive pitch and climb angle upon launching. Soon, he launched from the Canghi. “Hey Aerobark, want to make a bet?”

His wingmate, Lieutenant Miotazhi “Aerobark” Cacowe rolled her eyes as she flew her Mikoyan MiG-31 Foxhound in formation with his Flanker-D. “What is it Jackal?”

“I’m thinking of doing a stunt to catch the Rygardi off guard. If it works, you got to pose for me for my painting. You in?”

“Whatever, Jackal. It better not get me stuck with KP duty again, or I’ll skin your tail and whip you with it!”

“My, my, aren’t you flirty today?”

Groaning and cursing in German, she returned to focusing on flying. Her WSO (Weapon Systems Operator) Junior Lieutenant Qacazeni “Winter Frost” Ouatau laughed. “I think Jackal has a crush on you Aerobark,” she said.

“Yeah, right.”

The Foxhounds, Mikoyan MiG-29K Fulcrum-Ds, and Flanker-Ds flew off to aid the FPS forces.

24

Third Fleet - FPNS Independence
Admiral’s Bridge
“Admiral, we’ve got a problem,” the Lieutenant across the room, manning the console liaising with the fleet’s AWACS, reported. “The Rygardians just started jamming. We’ve lost considerable capacity, though we’re launching another AWACS, to supplement. We’ve started jamming in turn.”

Holstrom nodded. “Very well. Let’s float every AWACS we’ve got, actually, and get a forward screen going. I want us to be more…”

"Sir!’ Another officer, on the other side of the room, spoke suddenly. “We’ve got ship to ships inbound, showing up at about 200 kilometers. Jamming probably stopped the AWACS from detecting it; we’re detecting it directly.”

The Lieutenant spoke again. “Sir, AWACS is also reporting a large force of what we’re assuming to be inbound fighters. They say the fighters are likely stealth – we can’t really get a lock on any of them – but because of the massive number, its clear something is happening. We’d guesstimate a hundred at least. We’ve also got what appear to be inbound drones.”

“A hundred?” Holstrom asked. “Jesus, we’re still four days from Rygard, and they’ve sent close to 200 planes at us?” He shook his head. “That’s not really relevant. Tell the CAG that the non-stealth fighters are entirely his problem. Have the destroyers focus on shooting down the inbound missiles and detectable drones. Tell the cruiser to start firing on the enemy fleet…if it’s in range?”

“Yessir. They just showed up on radar at around 300 miles,” the AWACS liaison reported.

“Okay, good.” The Admiral took a breath. “Tell the rest of the fleet to open up on the vector from which those fighters are approaching. Missiles, rockets, guns, flares, anything we’ve got. We can’t target them, but, we sure as hell can make sure its not a cakewalk for them.”

Before the Admiral’s Adjunct could reply, a flash appeared out the left side of the Admiral’s bridge, and the ship sank. Turning, Holstrom watched as the crew of the fleet’s ship tender abandoned their missile-struck ship. “And contact our base in Reziel! We’re going to need reinforcements.”

Reziel - Free Pacifican Military Base
The Seventh Fighter Wing of the Free Pacifican Air Force had spent two weeks drilling for a sudden, deadly attack from the Pax. So, when the main alarm sounded, the men of the base did not particularly rush to stations. As news spread of the actual mission, however, the pilots of the nearly two hundred fighters assigned to the wing rushed to their planes. Within twenty minutes, the air group was en route to the location of the Third Fleet, albeit still a considerable distance away.

25

Battle between FPS and Rygardi Fleets

The Hammerhead and Cobra Blood Fleets were attacking the FPS Third Fleet with everything they had.

Rygardi F-35s and F-22s fought with FPS fighters. A F-35 started shooting at Lieutenant Mel Emosin’s Hornet with its gun. A F-22 Raptor was attacking one of his fellow FPS pilots, lauching a heat-seeking missile at it.

The Coral Thunder, thanks to the other ships’ jamming was able to silently come up from behind and thus, started attacking the Third Fleet’s rear, targeting the FPNS Independence, launching Sea Sparrows and firing its guns at it.

Admiral Elatas Relebyok smiled. “Sir, we are being jammed but we activated our counter-measures to break through. The Cobra Blood Fleet and ours are pounding them. We also detected several fighters coming from Reizel.”

“Start firing the anti-aircraft guns, as well as our flak guns too. That should keep them busy.”

“Yes, sir.”

The anti-aircraft guns and flak guns started to fill the sky with explosions.

“Admiral, sir, we just heavily damaged one of their destroyers. The rest of their fleet will be crushed in a matter of moments. Our fighters, while losing a fourth of them, will have overrun the FPS fighters very soon.”

Vulshainian Confederate Naval Northern Fleet led by the flagship VCS Canghi, 528 miles from battle between FPS and Rygardi ships and fighters

Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi wasn’t liking what she was hearing. “Ma’am, we are detecting a hundred Rygardi fighters. It looks like they are trying to crush the FPS Third Fleet. And…uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? I don’t like that word.”

“Ma’am, jamming just kicked in, from both sides. Activating counter-measures now.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Vice Admiral Pikisi ordered, “Have the Southern Knight…wait, why do we have a ship named “Southern Knight” in the Northern Fleet?”

The Chief Ship Starshina (OOC: Starshina is Russian Navy equivalent to a Petty Officer) shrugged. Shaking her head, the Vice Admiral continued, “Regardless, have the Southern Knight, Dawn’s Fortune, and Verdict Defender get ready to start pounding those Rygardi. Also, get the Hero’s Honor ready, too.” The petite vulpine naval officer thought for a moment. “Send the Hunlee II, Seraphim, and Mermaid’s Ballad to go ahead of us and soften the enemy up!”

“Aye, aye, Vice Admiral Pikisi!”

The Hero’s Honor and Southern Knight were Kirov-class battlecruisers, while the Dawn’s Fortune and Verdict Defender were Sovremenny-class destroyers designed for anti-ship warfare. The Hunlee II was an Akula-II class submarine while the Mermaid’s Ballad was a Delta IV-class ballistic submarine. The Seraphimwas a Typhoon-class ballistic missile submarine. The three submarines dive and went full speed ahead of the other ships, in the hopes of reaching the FPS Third Fleet in time.

Danorcius, Rygard

The three energy cannons started firing again, this time they seemed to be more powerful than normal, even at full power. Suddenly, their energy cores began to glow with a bright light. “What’s wrong with them?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not turning it off. I like living.”

Meanwhile, F-35s were finally launched to attack the East Malaysian ships.

26

NIFF flagship Nimitz-class aircraft carrier Antares
In the lead of the strike-group heading towards the Rygardian seas

After its re-foundation in the regional area of the East Pacific some nine years earlier, what was known as ‘the Grand Duchy of Reziel’ had been able to prove the skill and the valor of its soldiers more than once, being able to quickly get a reputation throughout the whole region as a ranked military power. Some nations had basically shrugged at the appearance of the new power… some others had decided to admit the young Grand Duchy in the list of their international friends. Among these ‘others’, the Federated Alliance of Free Pacific States had been among the more enthusiastic, being wholeheartedly reciprocated by the Rezielans. The reason of a similar synergy, which had quickly developed on multiple levels, had probably to be searched in the concept of acounterbalancing complementariness: where the FPSians were oriented towards ‘diplomacy at any cost’, the Rezielans seemed able to offer the more factual and pro-intervention attitude. Thus, where the former tended to be extremely cautious in warmongering choices and steps, considering an open war as the worst option ever… well, the latter were definitely more inclined to consider field confrontation as a choice like many others. Regrettable for sure… but a choice anyhow. Therefore, when the First, the Third and the Fourth Fleet had been ordered to move at full speed towards the Rygardian seas to offer their full and unconditioned support to the FPSian Third Fleet under attack, nobody had found anything strange with that… and nobody had doubted that erasing Rygard from the map was an option which had been examined and considered acceptable by the high commands in New Irem.

The fact that, in the meanwhile, the radars of the flagship had registered the presence of approaching Vulshainian ships had been saluted as a good news by the striking-team commanding officers… but nothing else. No matter the possible support they would or wouldn’t have received by anyone. They would have followed their orders anyhow. The FPSians were under attack, therefore the Grand Duchy itself was under attack. And the Iremian forces had just one way to deal with attackers: wipe them or be wiped in the attempt. Grinning, Fleet Admiral Roger Proudmoore thought the last option wasn’t on the table: the reaction force deployed to retaliate against the possible Packilvanian assault was something the whole Rygardian military would have had difficulties to handle… let’s figure the Hammerhead and Cobra Blood Fleets alone.

«Counter-jamming AWACs positioned, Admiral. As expected, we’re being able to remain basically untouched by their countermeasures… and it seems the joint protocol is working, if only to some extent: the FPSians are being forwarded decrypting data and they’re not blind anymore» reported one of his aides, bringing the Admiral back from his thoughts.

The news was good on a double level: first of all, because the jamming situation was being solved to their advantage. Not that the thing was so surprising, as the Rezielan skills with electronic warfare were renowned throughout the whole region, with the most part of other nations chasing for the Ducal technological advancements and achievements. On the second level… and that was the real news, it seemed the joint efforts to develop a standard communication protocol with the FPSians were finally succeeding, surely due to the deeper-and-deeper co-operation between the Archangels and the specialists of FPS.

«What about the NIAF?» asked the Admiral, his mind already anticipating the one answer he would have considered as ‘acceptable’.

«Three full AC wings already supercruising towards the main battlefield… ours, the Kochab’s and the Dabih’s. The AC Wezen reports they’ll be able to launch within five minutes… and we have a full wing coming from the mainland. This means 257 fighters with ETA lower than 180 seconds… with 167 being on their way, ETAs between 480 and 600 seconds»

«The ships?»

«Three full strike groups with the carriers… and a supplemental one which was patrolling in front of the Hatian shores… as per the international agreement with Tricorne. This means we have 23 surface combatants… and 9 subs»

«Nine?»

«Yes, Admiral. The Archangels have sent their Los Angeles class Ultor to take part to the fun»

«Los Angeles» puffed the Admiral «They should definitely upgrade to Seawolf once and for all… I wonder which should be its usefulness, here»

«Well, Admiral… Vulshain has a Iowa-class battleship which is probably going to take active part to the fight» grinned the aide, nodding in confirmation as he met the Admiral’s perplexed glance.

«Wonderful… I wonder how impressive would be a demonstration of ours against such a rattletrap. Well, I suppose that, despite impressive, it would be rather useless, as rust would probably do the work anyhow. But well… our orders are to ‘give the Rygardians a chance to cool down’. Therefore, it will be a minor ship. And that’s what we’ll take, hoping they’ll realize their utter foolishness. Confirm order 459»

As the aide nodded, orders were quickly forwarded down the command chain. Forty-three seconds after, a report confirmed the plan had succeeded: two torpedoes fired from one of the Rezielan submarines had reached one of the Rygardian smaller frigates, their explosions mercilessly sinking it. In the same moment, countless torpedoes had exploded just few meters away from a number of other Rygardian ships, including a couple of carriers, in what seemed a massive attack which had failed on purpose. Nodding, the Fleet Admiral took the microphone, knowing that the open message would have been received strong and clear by the Rygardians.

«To all Rygardian vessels in the area, here is Fleet Admiral Roger Proudmoore of the New Iremian First Fleet. Your Daggerblade Frigate has just been annihilated… and we’ve just proven we’re able to reach an indeterminate number of your ships. You’re greatly outnumbered, air and sea alike… and our rear guard is already cutting off possible reinforcements coming from your mainland. Therefore… we request your immediate surrendering. Moreover, we request your ships to withdraw from the FPSian destroyer Invincible, allowing our supporting ships to reach it and help the evacuation. Do not force us to make use of our whole firepower, because we will not hesitate… and, honestly, I’m rather persuaded there is not such a large amount of people ready to die for your dictator, there. Surrender… and you’ll be given safe harbor, far from his possible retaliation»

27

Despite the loss of the frigate, Admiral Elatas Relebyok just laughed. “Tell the Rezielians, that we will not surrender. Once we are finished annihilating the FPS Third Fleet, it will be their turn.”

The communications officer nodded and sent the message to the Rezielian fleet.

Captain Mamineo McErulis of the Hunlee II looked through the periscope. “We are in range. Fire all torpedoes!”

The three Vulshainian submarines fired their torpedoes. Soon, the torpedoes struck their targets, destroying the Black Anger and severely damaging the Red Plague.

The F-35 that was chasing Lieutenant Mel Emosin’s Hornet was suddenly shot down by Jackal’s Flanker as he and the rest of the Northern Fleet fighters came roaring from up in the sky. As he shot it down, he yelled, “YAHOO! I told you Aerobark that it would work!”

The Vulshainian fighters began to attack, reinforcing the FPS Third Fleet and the Rezielians

A Vulshainian Iowa-class battleship, the VCS Matzhin opened fire on the Coral Thunder. While a much more advanced ship, the Coral Thunder was soon overwhelmed as fighters and the Matzhin’s guns soon destroyed it.

Admiral Elatas Relebyok was stunned. “What is going on here!? Who is attacking us?”

“Sir, it’s the Vulshainian Naval Northern Fleet! We are under heavy fire!”

Outside one of the Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carriers of the Blood Cobra Fleet exploded as several Vulshainian bombers destroyed it.

The two ballistic missile submarines launched MIRVs into the air that came back down, damaging several Rygardi cruisers with the missiles.

Admiral Relebyok was angry, his face filled with rage, as he barked orders left and right.

A destroyer from the Blood Cobra Fleet began to sink, a victim of the Southern Knight.

Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi announced to all ships and fighters: “This is Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi of the Admiral Kuznetsov-class aircraft carrier, VCS Canghi, flaghsip of the Vulshainian Naval Northern Fleet. We are here to aid our comrades from the Free Pacific States and Reziel.”

Several Hind gunships opened fire on a Daggerblade Frigate.

“I want all ships to open fire! I don’t want anything through!”

Suddenly, a Vulshainian MiG-25 was hit. Its pilot screamed as she piloted her damaged craft towards the bridge of the Dragon’s Sword. Admiral Relebyok’s second-in-command screamed, “Too late!” The MiG-25 crashed right into the bridge and right into Admiral Relebyok’s face.

The Dragon’s Sword exploded and began to sink.

28

Ralph Holstrom watched as the fleet’s supply ship sank underwater, its former position surrounded by life boats. “Status?”

“We’ve lost the Invincible,” Holstrom’s adjunct stated, “and the Defiant, Support, and Garneldo all took heavy damage. The Defiant is listing to port, currently, and her captain is requesting permission to abandon ship as a precautionary measure.”

Holstrom nodded. “Make it happen.” He took a breath. “What did we just stand up to, anyways? Four carriers? Five?” He shook his head. “We’re still days away from Rygard and they sent this much at us…I can’t imagine how much damage our allies are going to take invading that place.”

“Our allies?” The adjunct asked.

The admiral nodded. “Yes, they. With this much damage, we’re in no condition to support an invasion, heck, we’re lucky to be alive. We’ll need to head back to port. Send a message to thank our allies. And let the air wing know it can turn around – fat lot of good they did for us. In the meantime, let’s provide support for the Defiant, and get turned back to Reziel. The dockmaster is going to have a field day.”

“Yes, sir.”

29

Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi watched as the Rygardi fleet became disorganized and uncoordinated.

“Begin rescue operations. Start getting those Free Pacific sailors out of the water.”

“Aye, aye, Vice Admiral!”

Commodore Jarvis Oliver Weaver looked at the dead body of Commissar Rufus Hellebore, his pistol still smoking. “Inform the Free Pacific Fleet that the Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carrier Death of the Wolf and her fighter wing are defecting to their Third Fleet.”

“Yes, sir,” the communications officer said as he relayed the message to the Third Fleet’s commander.

The Calypso’s Doom’s second-in-command, now the commander of the aircraft carrier contacted the Rezielians, telling them that they were defecting to their fleet.

A missile fired from one of the remaining Rygardi ships headed towards the Independence’s bridge.

Jackal saw the missile. “Damn, no countermeasures, and can’t risk firing a missile or bullets at it. Just have to improvish.”

He flew at the missile, ejecting at the very last minute as the missile hit his Flanker, saving the FPS aircraft carrier and her crew.

Vice Admiral Pikisi felt weak kneed as she heard that Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua’s fighter had been destroyed. “Did…did he eject?”

“I don’t know Vice Admiral. We are getting too many jamming and counterjamming signals to get a fix.”

“I see. I…I think I need to lay down, for a bit. I’m…I’m not feeling well. Captain Miles Raymundo Ellis, take over for me, please.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The human captain saluted to her. She quickly returned the salute and left for her quarters.

Two officers whispered to each other. “I’m guessing the rumors are true then.”

Before the other one could reply, Captain Ellis glared at them, shutting them both up quickly.

In her quarters, Vice Admiral Pikisi closed the door behind her and cried on her bed. “Damn it! Why did you have to be such a hotshot hero, Jackal! Why Jackal? Why? Didn’t you think about me?” She continued to cry.

Jackal tried to stay afloat, as he waved and shouted at a few FPS sailors on board the Independence. As he waved, the remaining Rygardi ships began to retreat, with only two destroyers and a cruiser staying behind, having defected to the Vulshainian Northern Fleet. The remaining Gerald R. Ford-carrier was on fire, as explosions ripped through the aircraft carrier, having been destroyed by FPS, Rezielian, and Vulshainian fighters and bombers.

30

FPNS Independence
Admiral’s Bridge
“Admiral, we’re getting a message from the Death of the Wolf,” the adjunct stated. He trailed off after a moment. “They’re, uh, defecting.”

Holstrom raised an eyebrow. “They’re defecting?” He asked. “Request a confirmation that they’re defecting. Maybe they meant surrender – I find it hard to believe they’re just changing allegiance.” He took a breath. "But just in case, get someone from legal up here. I don’t even know the policy on defection – never happened prior to date.

FPNS Independence
Flight Deck
Lieutenant Mel Emosin brought his aircraft to a stop on the flight deck of the Independence then sighed with relief. Carefully, he opened the damage cockpit door, then slid down the side of the plane to the deck. A group of mechanics quickly rushed up.

“You alright, sir,” a Petty Officer asked.

Emosin nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a close call…this plane is a mess. Best get it under.”

The non-commissioned officer nodded then hurried off. Taking a breath, Emosin walked to the side of the ship, watching the enemy fleet retreat. “We’re lucky to have…” he trailed off as he spotted a head bobbing in the water not far from the ship. Immediately, Emosin turned, and bellowed “MAN OVERBOARD” at the plane crew.

The Petty Officer ran to report the situation while several of the lower ranked enlisted personnel grabbed a tethered, circular rescue float, and threw it to the man. The Petty Officer showed up a moment later. “He’s too far to pull onto the deck,” he said, “but damage crew 3 is putting down a life boat to pick him up.”

“Good,” Emosin stated. He yelled an update to the man, unsure if he could here, then watched as a life boat made its way from the Independence.

31

NIFF flagship Nimitz-class aircraft carrier Antares
Meanwhile

«Yes, sir. Defecting. Two of them, to be exact. The Death of the Wolf to the FPSian, the Calypso’s Doom to us. The FPSians confirm… and they seem rather embarrassed, as they aren’t familiar enough with it. I guess they would have preferred a plain surrebndering»

Nodding at his aide’s final comment, Fleet Admiral Proudmoore glanced outwards, his gaze searching the seas for the approaching Gerald-Ford carrier. Landed planes, the whole crew on the flying deck, all of the defenses lowered… a bright smile appeared on his face as he felt once again the taste of a sweet and swift victory. No matter if they hadn’t de facto taken part to the fight. The day was theirs and theirs alone.

«A rope for the symbolic mooring. Commodore Magran on the deck with an escort of five, ready to take possession of the Calypso’s Doom. Immediate reports to New Irem, requesting instructions about the routing remnants of the Rygardian fleet. In the meanwhile… someone, what about the FPSian Invincible?» he barked.

«The Lanius has surfaced very near, trying to be as helpful as possible. In the meanwhile, a team of their technicians has embarked the FPSian ship, but we’re not yet sure about the actual chances to prevent its sinking»

32

Commodore Jarvis Oliver Weaver was taken a back by the Free Pacific admiral’s request to clarify if they were really defecting. “Tell him that we are defecting. Many of us are tired of fighting and dying for power-hungry dictator like Rivers.”

The communications officer sent the reply that they were defecting.

Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua gasped for breath as the life boat got close enough for him to climb in, with the help of the FPS sailors who lent him a hand. “Thanks,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “My name is Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua, of the Vulshainian Confederate Naval Aviation branch of the Confederate Navy.”

Still trying to catch his breath, he asked, “So, y’all going to take me to your ship, now?”

33

FPNS Independence
Admiral’s Bridge

“They’ve clarified they’re really defecting, sir,” the adjunct stated. “They seemed a bit surprised by our response.”

Holstrom shrugged. “Alright, then. Acknowledge their defection,” he said, reading through a document provided to him by the legal officer of the fleet. “For the moment, ask them and whatever healthy ships we’ve got to take up a defensive position around the fleet, just in case an attack does come. In the meantime, continue rescue operations.”

“Yessir.”

The Petty Officer in charge of the lifeboat saluted the Jackal then nodded. “Yes, sir. We’d take you straight to your ship but we’re required by procedure to have a doctor check you out after a rescue. Once that’s done, though, we can get you back home.”

34

Commodore Jarvis Oliver Weaver nodded as the FPS admiral gave him the orders. “Prepare to defend our FPS brothers and sisters in arms from any attack from those who continue to serve a dictator!”

The Death of the Wolf got into a defensive position to defend the Anti-Rygard Coalition.

Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua was glad to be out of the water, although, he didn’t mind swimming, what with being a Vulpine and everything. He chuckled, as he asked the Petty Officer, “So, did you see me save you and your comrades from that missile?”

Battle of Eriborough

Master Sergeant Marus Malhound watched as another M1 Abrams tank was destroyed. Like the members of the 11th Eriborough Regiment, he wore a gas mask, spiked helmet, black greatcoat, heavy boots and gloves, and black fatigues. Like the rest of the regiment, his helmet had a skull motif. He was enraged like the rest of his comrades to see mutts, mongrels, and those who would accept them as humanity’s equals invade his country. it made his blood boil to see the traitors alive and fighting alongside the enemies. He shouted, “For Rygard! Brothers and sisters of Rygard! Remember: Rygard is Power, Power is Rygard!”

“Rygard is Power, Power is Rygard!”

The national motto was repeated and almost sounded like a chorus, as the defenders of Eriborough fought back.

Battle of Eriborough

Private Gurssen Vusteri gasped in shock as a comrade was pounced by the Rygardi soldier. The enemy’s face was hidden by a gas mask as the Rygardi tried to stab Gurseen’s comrade with a bayonet. “Go to Hell, Dog!”

Gurssen clobbered the Rygardi with a shovel, beating his head in. After that, he slammed the shovel into another Rygardi’s throat, nearly decapitating the soldier. Gurssen fired his AK-74 at several soldiers.

T-80 tanks, T-90 tanks, 2A65 Msta-B 152mm Howitzers, D-30 122mm Howitzers, and 2S3 Akatsiya 152mm Self-Propelled Howitzers fired at the coming enemy advance.

Master-Sergeant Kekteremia Molesevist opened fire with the NSV heavy machine gun, mowing down the enemy soldiers.

Gurssen saw an Efreitor holding a RPO-A Shmel shoulder-mounted rocket-launcher, get hit. She howled in pain as she fell to the ground, grabbing her leg. A defected Rygardi soldier ran and picked up the rocket launcher and fired the rocket, destroying a Humvee. Gurssen quickly came to the wounded Lobo Efreitor’s aid. Drapping her arm over his shoulders, he began to take her out of the battle. “Come on, comrade, we got to get you out of here.”

“Leave me, finis–cough–finish the battle,” she said through coughs of blood. They were covered by two gray uniformed defected Rygardi soldiers, they too wearing gas-masks and spiked helmets like the loyal Rygardi soldiers.

“Like hell, I am. What’s your name, comrade?”

“Efreitor Sesima…cough…Erseristeria. Yours, comrade?”

“Private Gurssen Vusteri of the 9th Confederate Engineering Infantry Regiment.”

“7th Army Infantry.”

“Nice fur pattern,” he said, trying to keep her awake.

“Thanks. You got a pretty one too.” They both laughed. The two Rygardi soldiers just groaned as they returned fire, covering the two Confederate soldiers.

They arrived at the base camp’s medical tent, where the wounded were being brought. There were several Rygardi combat field medics who had defected at Salaror, who were assisting the Confederate medics. “Medic! I got a wounded comrade here!” Two medics and Gurssen helped Sesima onto a bed.

“Thanks, comrade,” she said as one of the medics injected painkillers in here.

“No problem,” he said with a smile and a wagging of his tail. She smiled back, then she howled as the medics began to remove the bullets from her left leg.

Gurssen looked around at the other wounded soldiers. There was people missing limbs or covered in bloodstained bandages. A Rygardi medic trying to help a Confederate soldier simply gave up and pulled a pistol out. The wounded soldier’s eyes widened. He couldn’t scream as his muzzle was badly damaged. Gurssen and another Confederate soldier stopped him, taking the medic’s gun from him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Gurssen was angry, his ears flat against his head.

“Mercy death.”

“Mercy death!? You son of a bitch!” The Rygardi medic simply shrugged and went to work on another injuried soldier. “Damn–”

The other soldier rested his hand on Gurssen’s shoulder. “It’s not his fault, comrade.”

“Huh?” He turned to look at the dark-skinned human man. The man was a Junior Sergeant, but he was missing his entire right arm. “The name’s Rex Matton. 78th Motor Rifle Division.”

Gurssen introduced himself. “What were you saying, that it isn’t his fault?”

“Their culture. They learn to fight and if you can’t fight because you’re wounded in battle, you’re no longer any use for the military, so you they put you down. No offense.”

“None taken,” Gurssen said. The bandaged soldier who Rex and Gurssen had just saved, mumbled that he hadn’t been offended either.

“Well, you take care Gurssen.”

Both the canine soldiers told Rex goodbye.

35

The Petty Officer shook his head. “I’ve been below deck all day, sir, until now.” He smiled, though, and pointed to the carrier. “But I think they know what you’re talking about.”

A group of around fifty people, mostly pilots, were gathered at the empty lifeboat station. As the boat crew raised the boat back into its home, the sailors flooded it, patting Merua on the back, offering him cigars, and thanking him.

An exhausted-looking medic interrupted the celebration after a few minutes. “Senior Lieutenant Merua?” He asked, looking at the vulpine. “I’m under orders to take you directly to sickbay, sir, for a checkup.” He held up a hand before any of the celebrating pilots could object. “The order comes directly from the Admiral, sirs.”

Admiral Holstrom watched as a skeleton crew returned to the Invincible. “Send a message of thanks to the Rezlians,” he said after a moment. “We couldn’t have saved that ship without them. I’m not sure what they were able to do, but, it was mighty impressive.”

“Will do, sir,” his adjunct stated after a moment. “The captains of the damaged vessels and the Invincible are requesting permission to return to port.”

“Tell them to get underway,” the Admiral stated. “Send the amphibious squadron with them as support. It won’t be much, but, it’ll be something.” He took a breath. “Also, what’s the condition of that pilot?”

“En route to sickbay, sir,” the adjunct stated. “Seems fine, according to the rescuers, but we’re still unsure.”

“Alright. Notify the Vulshainians we’ve got him,” the admiral said. “And let’s finish up rescue operations. I want this fleet back at port, ASAP.”

36

Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi was contacted by her second in command, Captain Miles Raymundo Ellis. “What is it?”

“Ma’am, are you crying?”

“Just tell me what you got to say, and say it.”

“Um…The Free Pacific crew of the Independence just contacted us. They have informed me that they just got Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua out of the water. They say that he is alright, but they are going to check him out to make sure.”

Vice Admiral Pikisi breathed a sigh of relief. “Get a Hind ready to fly me over to the Independence, now!”

She hung up and raced towards the Hind on the flight deck.

Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua smiled as he shook hands. He turned down the cigars, saying, “Sorry, but my girlfriend would skin me alive if she caught a sniff of cigar smoke on me.”

He then left for the sickbay.

Captain Miles Raymundo Ellis watched as the Hind took off for the Free Pacific carrier. “Inform the commander of the Independence that Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi of the VCS Canghi is coming aboard their ship.”

Captain Ellis hoped that his superior wouldn’t do something stupid.

37

FPNS Independence
Admiral’s Bridge
“She’s coming…NOW?” Holstrom asked. “Well, alright. Clear her to land. And get me an honor guard on the deck, now! Use marines – they’re not doing much of anything right now, anyway.”

The adjunct nodded. “Uh, yessir.”

“I’m heading now there myself,” the Fleet Admiral continued, making his way towards the exit of the Admiral’s Bridge. “Tell the Vice Admiral that the fleet is his for the moment.”

FPNS Independence
Flight Deck
Holstrom reached the bottom of the control tower just as four marines, clad in full dress uniform, came running out of the bowels of the ship. He waved down a Petty Officer, asked where the chopper was landing, and then led the marines there. When the helicopter landed, the marines all stood at full attention, and a deck crewman ran forward to open the door.

FPNS Independence
Medical Center
The medic interrogated Merua on the way to sick bay, asking him every imaginable question about his medical history, then asking him every imaginable question about how he felt at that moment. The non-commissioned officer appeared satisfied only just as they reached two large doors, marked “MEDICAL CENTER” in huge font.

Merua and the medic walked through the doors into absolute chaos. There were a few dozen beds in the large main room of the medical center, all inhabited, and even more gurneys with people on them. A half dozen doctors, a dozen nurses, and twice as many medics were running about, clearly overwhelmed, and the three “operating room” doors all stood closed with an “Operation in Progress” sign over them. The medic gestured Merua to a somehow empty corner, told him a doctor would be with him soon, then joined the bustle.

A doctor did indeed approach after a few minutes. The twenty-something ensign appeared exhausted, overwhelmed, and generally unhappy. “I’m Doctor Tormen,” he said, offering his hand, and doing his best to smile. “I’m the most knowledgeable person around here in non-human medicine. That doesn’t make me as qualified as a doctor that specialized in vulpine medicine, but, I’ll be able to do a basic check-up. The big question: do you feel any pain right now?”

38

FPS Independence

As he was escorted to Sickbay, Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua was asked a great many questions about his medical history. He couldn’t recall anything major. “No, I don’t have any major health problems or anything you should be concerned about.”

When he entered the sickbay, his ears popped up in shock at the sight of the number of injured. “Damn, we should have gotten here sooner,” he thought as he was told to wait in a corner and wait for a doctor.

When Doctor Tormen arrived and asked him was he in pain, Jackal shook his head and said, “No, sir. A little damp, but nothing a heat lamp or a blowdryer won’t fix, I guess. Um…I guess I’m clear, huh?”

Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi was extremely nervous. “Is he alright? Is he hurt?”

She was on the verge of nervous breakdown. “If he is alright…I’ll…I’ll…” Before she could finish coming up with a decent punishment for Meru making her worry her brains out, the pilots let her know that they were about to land. She saw the FPS marines and a man who she assumed was the head of the Third Fleet.

The Hind landed on the FPS carrier. She exited the gunship and approached the Fleet Admiral. “Fleet Admiral Ralph Holstrom of the Free Pacific Naval Ship Nimitz-class aircraft carrier, Independence,” she said in lisped English as she saluted. “I am Vice Admiral Ankari Pikisi, captain of the Vulshainian Confederate Admiral Kuznetsov-class aircraft carrier, Canghi, and commander of the entire Vulshainian Northern Naval Fleet.” She hated being short when she saw that Fleet Admiral Holstrom was a foot and three inches taller than her. “Hell, even Jackal is taller than me!”

Unlike the FPS admiral, Vice Admiral Pikisi’s uniform was a bluish-black color and she wore a great coat.

OOC: Here’s an example of a Russian naval officer’s uniform: http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/russia/images/26_01.jpg

39

Doctor Tormen raised an eyebrow. “No pain at all? That is…unusual, at least for a human. I did not know vulpine physiology to be so strong – most humans suffer from general body pain, temporary body shortening, and strong headaches after an ejection.” He shrugged. “Well, let me take a quick look at you, anyway. If you don’t feel any pain, you’re probably fine, but procedure requires a full checkup of any rescued individual.”

Holstrom wore a very different uniform indeed, based clearly off the American design, but returned Pikisi’s salute in a very similar manner. “Welcome aboard, Admiral Pikisi, it is an admiral to have you here.”

The Fleet Admiral took a breath. “Admiral, why don’t we skip the pleasantries? You’re here to see a pilot from what your executive officer stated. I will say, we owe him our lives, and I can understand your wanting to ensure his health in person. The man is clearly a hero.” Holstrom motioned towards the con tower. “If you’ll follow me, I can take you to the medical bay. They’re examining him there.”

40

Meru chuckled. “Not really, Vulpines are just about as strong humans. I just got lucky, I supposed. I guess the Almighty and St. Aiya were looking out for me.” He allowed the doctor to examine him to make sure he was okay.

Vice Admiral Pikisi lowered her arm and nodded. “Yes, Senior Lieutenant Kocatas “Jackal” Merua is indeed a brave, yet rash, pilot. What he did was indeed heroic. The Confederate military trains our soldiers to be ready to save the lives of our comrades, even foreign comrades.” She smiled and her tail wagged a little. “He is one of the Northern Fleet’s best fighter pilots. I am glad that we were able to arrive just in time before the Rygardi had completely destroyed your fleet.” She then looked around at the carrier. “I have never been on a Nimitz-class carrier before. I have always served aboard Admiral Kuznetsov-class carriers. Very different from the Admiral Kuznetsov-class. Very different indeed.” She then followed him to the medical bay. “Oh Lord, please let him be okay.” She took out her Celiam Methodist pendant and kissed it for luck, before putting it back underneath her uniform.