Advance Wars: The Becoming
Vilna, Blue moon, 7/24/12
The rain patters down on the slaving citizens of the tundra country of Blue Moon. It is one of the very few bouts of rain in the nation, as it is normally very cold and dry. But today, the storm clouds well up around the capitol building and form a thick gray sheet over the dank skyline.
"So, where are we going?" asked a soldier as he was lead down an aisle at the drafting ceremony.
"Well, the surrounding nations have partitioned the Stars to annex some of their land to us temporarily, meaning that it's completely legal and necessary, so I really can't think of a reason for Blue Moon's crash rearmament program. I didn't think we were in such an aggressive relationship with them anyway. But apparently, maximum precaution is needed for some reason," answered his friend.
"Man, why do we have to bring the entire damned army? The Stars haven't even rearmed, so we shouldn't have much to worry about, right?"
"I guess not. They only have a few tanks left over from the past war."
"So we get the Blue Moon navy and airforce all involved in it? I'm surprised Orange Star is as allowing as it is."
They stepped up to the stage, walking into the 3rd row of his training comrades. They stood still as stone, and in perfect line as they waited for the speaker to give his speech. The speaker was the junior Commanding officer for the Blue Moon Army, and he was a tall, rail-thin man wearing a shady-looking brown jacket and blue storm cap. He carried a revolver, more for style than for protection, since he spent most of his time in the walls of the capitol building. Three generals were lined up in front of him respectively.
"Today, I would like to honor the annex of much-needed land for the ailing country of Blue Moon. It is important that I cut to the chase, since I'm a bit late, and the ship is leaving in about five minutes. We are facing some major crisis, as our land is running low on natural and mineral resources. It is by great luck and fortune that we come into the open arms of the secret shady, society of the Black Hole Republic. With their say in the international vote, the scales were tipped in our favor, and we are now allowed to barrow crucial reserves-from Orange Star-for our country's need. We thank Black Hole, and will lend them support in their future struggles, though we know very little about their society or just where they first broke off. We would like to praise Orange Star as well for this commendable gesture."
His name was Gratin Tucker, called 'Grit' as a nickname due to his dark, cynical attitude. He had a heavy southern drawl, and he looked tired and pale.
"Now we are on our way to secure our share of the deal, and will return with the fruits of our labor."
The audience murmured lightly, and the troops were called off the stage and out the door. The murmur became a cheer, and Grit stepped down, and his generals followed him into the upper levels of the building. He went up floors until he reached the office of his superior, the senior Commanding Officer of the Blue Moon Army and chief of the crash rearmament program- Olaf Freidrich Sarcowsky. Olaf was a great fat man in blue uniform with a booming voice. He was older, in his late fifties, and he wore a frizzy unshaven beard that completely obscured his mouth.
"Gratin Tucker. I will need your help in the annex of this land."
"What am I needed for, sir?"
"I am sending you down with the expeditionary force, along with Generals Fritz, Pfeiffer and Jerik to secure the boundary."
"Me? You're sending me down there, just for a petty little thing like this? But why, sir?"
"Securing 200 square miles of land is no easy task, Grit. I will need your utmost cooperation to accomplish this task. Like I've always said, a rusty nail requires a hefty hammer."
"200 miles? I was told only 40!" he said as Olaf paused.
"The Black Hole Republic has newer, more lucrative requests. Now you can either accept your position, or be replaced."
"Alright, okay, no biggy. When do I leave?"
"Right now! Move!"
He motioned for Gratin to leave. He did, and Olaf slammed the door behind him.
---
Davenport, Orange Star, 7/25/12
A tall, thin blonde with a voluptuous figure paced between two rows of officers. She was Nellie Sarcowsky, usually called Nell for short, the vice president of the country of Orange Star. Conceived by most to be the most beautiful person ever to grace such a level in politics, she had a bright, cheerful attitude. But in this case, she was rather troubled, as Orange Star rarely encountered very serious problems. Because of this, presidency and vice presidency has gotten to be more of a popularity contest than a test of political skill. Nellie, with her beautiful body and cutely instructive demeanor, came to be the product of this.
"So how many troops have we trained, captain Smith?" she asked.
"About 12,000. Enough to counter a good-sized assault, if concentrated properly," said a tall, thin man in a work uniform. He was the Orange Star personnel chief.
"But these men would be useless without proper mechanization," said a shorter, fat man in a business suit, the captain of Orange Star's only armored division.
"Well, um, I'm not sure how that works," said Nell as she rubbed her head. "You're talking tanks now, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
"Well what have we got in that area?"
"We've just gotten past the half-track stage again, and we're currently modernizing the light tank mark III. It should be ready for production in a couple of weeks."
"Excellent. You have my orders to mobilize whatever you have now at the east boarder, around the area they're annexing. I just can't trust those communists of Blue Moon." she paused. "And the aerospace and navel industries are doing just fine?"
"Yes," answered the tall man again. "We have capacity to give them proper air and sea support wherever they need it."
"Great. um. tea, anyone?" The room fell silent, and just as Nell felt the sweat drop. A man in an orange vest burst into the room.
"Vice president Sarcowsky! We've got a situation!"
"I told you, you can call me Nell. Now, what's going on?"
"What looks like a very large Blue Moon navel force is completely bypassing the said territory and heading towards our east port. The other one is swimming toward the northern beach. They're already miles beyond what they'd promised to annex!"
"You're joking. All right, maybe not. This is just peachy. send all the mechanization we have, and begin full-scale production of whatever we've built so far. Concentrate them in two regiments at the points they're attacking."
"Yes, Nell. I'll give the order."
HLS Shrike, Orange Sea, 7/26/12
Landers and other ships were churning up and down in the waves, careening toward the beach at 40 knots. Fewer than half the crews knew the true purpose of the mission, and that it was to do much more than annex a small amount of land from Orange Star. About eighteen hundred tanks and 30,000 troops were soon to be forced upon the shores with an entirely different purpose, along with assorted artillery and a few thousand helicopters. A force of equal size to this one was heading toward a similar position from the southern port.
"It's cold as Hell," said Gratin in the highest deck of the largest aircraft carrier. "I swear to God, this has to be the coldest, driest region in the world, right between here and Blue Moon."
"Well, we're over the open sea. I guess that makes it a lot worse," said a captain of the ship, Joseph. "Damnit, when can we just land already? We're a lot farther out than we're supposed to be."
A loud voice crackled on the radio.
"Attention Blue Moon convoy. This is the Orange Star department of defense. You have our order to turn around and head back. I repeat, this is not a request, this is an order. Turn back now or we will fire on you. You have already bypassed the allowed territory."
"Holy possum shit," said Gratin. "Joseph, get me Senior Officer Sarcowsky."
"Alright," he replied as he adjusted the second radio.
"Senior Officer Olaf Sarcowsky. Are you there, sir?"
"What is it?" his voice bellowed.
"Sir, we've crossed our territory, and we have to head back, or they'll fire on us. Can I give the order?"
"You will do no such thing. In fact, you have my order to fire on them. Immediately."
"But why, sir? Why are we doing this?"
"Look, this is an order, Gratin! If you want the chief plan to work, you'll have to be obedient!"
"What chief plan? We've already broken the-"
"Fire immediately, or I'll have you discharged! Dismissed!" With a hiss of static, Olaf broke connection.
Gratin sighed, and the first radio hissed again.
"Attention Blue Moon convoy. This is your last warning. Turn back now or we will fire on you."
Gratin turned on the intercom next to the radio and barked the order. "All personnel. By order of Senior Officer Olaf Sarcowsky, we are to fire at will. Repeat, locate all Orange Star positions and fire at will, post- haste!"
Vilna, Blue moon, 7/24/12
The rain patters down on the slaving citizens of the tundra country of Blue Moon. It is one of the very few bouts of rain in the nation, as it is normally very cold and dry. But today, the storm clouds well up around the capitol building and form a thick gray sheet over the dank skyline.
"So, where are we going?" asked a soldier as he was lead down an aisle at the drafting ceremony.
"Well, the surrounding nations have partitioned the Stars to annex some of their land to us temporarily, meaning that it's completely legal and necessary, so I really can't think of a reason for Blue Moon's crash rearmament program. I didn't think we were in such an aggressive relationship with them anyway. But apparently, maximum precaution is needed for some reason," answered his friend.
"Man, why do we have to bring the entire damned army? The Stars haven't even rearmed, so we shouldn't have much to worry about, right?"
"I guess not. They only have a few tanks left over from the past war."
"So we get the Blue Moon navy and airforce all involved in it? I'm surprised Orange Star is as allowing as it is."
They stepped up to the stage, walking into the 3rd row of his training comrades. They stood still as stone, and in perfect line as they waited for the speaker to give his speech. The speaker was the junior Commanding officer for the Blue Moon Army, and he was a tall, rail-thin man wearing a shady-looking brown jacket and blue storm cap. He carried a revolver, more for style than for protection, since he spent most of his time in the walls of the capitol building. Three generals were lined up in front of him respectively.
"Today, I would like to honor the annex of much-needed land for the ailing country of Blue Moon. It is important that I cut to the chase, since I'm a bit late, and the ship is leaving in about five minutes. We are facing some major crisis, as our land is running low on natural and mineral resources. It is by great luck and fortune that we come into the open arms of the secret shady, society of the Black Hole Republic. With their say in the international vote, the scales were tipped in our favor, and we are now allowed to barrow crucial reserves-from Orange Star-for our country's need. We thank Black Hole, and will lend them support in their future struggles, though we know very little about their society or just where they first broke off. We would like to praise Orange Star as well for this commendable gesture."
His name was Gratin Tucker, called 'Grit' as a nickname due to his dark, cynical attitude. He had a heavy southern drawl, and he looked tired and pale.
"Now we are on our way to secure our share of the deal, and will return with the fruits of our labor."
The audience murmured lightly, and the troops were called off the stage and out the door. The murmur became a cheer, and Grit stepped down, and his generals followed him into the upper levels of the building. He went up floors until he reached the office of his superior, the senior Commanding Officer of the Blue Moon Army and chief of the crash rearmament program- Olaf Freidrich Sarcowsky. Olaf was a great fat man in blue uniform with a booming voice. He was older, in his late fifties, and he wore a frizzy unshaven beard that completely obscured his mouth.
"Gratin Tucker. I will need your help in the annex of this land."
"What am I needed for, sir?"
"I am sending you down with the expeditionary force, along with Generals Fritz, Pfeiffer and Jerik to secure the boundary."
"Me? You're sending me down there, just for a petty little thing like this? But why, sir?"
"Securing 200 square miles of land is no easy task, Grit. I will need your utmost cooperation to accomplish this task. Like I've always said, a rusty nail requires a hefty hammer."
"200 miles? I was told only 40!" he said as Olaf paused.
"The Black Hole Republic has newer, more lucrative requests. Now you can either accept your position, or be replaced."
"Alright, okay, no biggy. When do I leave?"
"Right now! Move!"
He motioned for Gratin to leave. He did, and Olaf slammed the door behind him.
---
Davenport, Orange Star, 7/25/12
A tall, thin blonde with a voluptuous figure paced between two rows of officers. She was Nellie Sarcowsky, usually called Nell for short, the vice president of the country of Orange Star. Conceived by most to be the most beautiful person ever to grace such a level in politics, she had a bright, cheerful attitude. But in this case, she was rather troubled, as Orange Star rarely encountered very serious problems. Because of this, presidency and vice presidency has gotten to be more of a popularity contest than a test of political skill. Nellie, with her beautiful body and cutely instructive demeanor, came to be the product of this.
"So how many troops have we trained, captain Smith?" she asked.
"About 12,000. Enough to counter a good-sized assault, if concentrated properly," said a tall, thin man in a work uniform. He was the Orange Star personnel chief.
"But these men would be useless without proper mechanization," said a shorter, fat man in a business suit, the captain of Orange Star's only armored division.
"Well, um, I'm not sure how that works," said Nell as she rubbed her head. "You're talking tanks now, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
"Well what have we got in that area?"
"We've just gotten past the half-track stage again, and we're currently modernizing the light tank mark III. It should be ready for production in a couple of weeks."
"Excellent. You have my orders to mobilize whatever you have now at the east boarder, around the area they're annexing. I just can't trust those communists of Blue Moon." she paused. "And the aerospace and navel industries are doing just fine?"
"Yes," answered the tall man again. "We have capacity to give them proper air and sea support wherever they need it."
"Great. um. tea, anyone?" The room fell silent, and just as Nell felt the sweat drop. A man in an orange vest burst into the room.
"Vice president Sarcowsky! We've got a situation!"
"I told you, you can call me Nell. Now, what's going on?"
"What looks like a very large Blue Moon navel force is completely bypassing the said territory and heading towards our east port. The other one is swimming toward the northern beach. They're already miles beyond what they'd promised to annex!"
"You're joking. All right, maybe not. This is just peachy. send all the mechanization we have, and begin full-scale production of whatever we've built so far. Concentrate them in two regiments at the points they're attacking."
"Yes, Nell. I'll give the order."
HLS Shrike, Orange Sea, 7/26/12
Landers and other ships were churning up and down in the waves, careening toward the beach at 40 knots. Fewer than half the crews knew the true purpose of the mission, and that it was to do much more than annex a small amount of land from Orange Star. About eighteen hundred tanks and 30,000 troops were soon to be forced upon the shores with an entirely different purpose, along with assorted artillery and a few thousand helicopters. A force of equal size to this one was heading toward a similar position from the southern port.
"It's cold as Hell," said Gratin in the highest deck of the largest aircraft carrier. "I swear to God, this has to be the coldest, driest region in the world, right between here and Blue Moon."
"Well, we're over the open sea. I guess that makes it a lot worse," said a captain of the ship, Joseph. "Damnit, when can we just land already? We're a lot farther out than we're supposed to be."
A loud voice crackled on the radio.
"Attention Blue Moon convoy. This is the Orange Star department of defense. You have our order to turn around and head back. I repeat, this is not a request, this is an order. Turn back now or we will fire on you. You have already bypassed the allowed territory."
"Holy possum shit," said Gratin. "Joseph, get me Senior Officer Sarcowsky."
"Alright," he replied as he adjusted the second radio.
"Senior Officer Olaf Sarcowsky. Are you there, sir?"
"What is it?" his voice bellowed.
"Sir, we've crossed our territory, and we have to head back, or they'll fire on us. Can I give the order?"
"You will do no such thing. In fact, you have my order to fire on them. Immediately."
"But why, sir? Why are we doing this?"
"Look, this is an order, Gratin! If you want the chief plan to work, you'll have to be obedient!"
"What chief plan? We've already broken the-"
"Fire immediately, or I'll have you discharged! Dismissed!" With a hiss of static, Olaf broke connection.
Gratin sighed, and the first radio hissed again.
"Attention Blue Moon convoy. This is your last warning. Turn back now or we will fire on you."
Gratin turned on the intercom next to the radio and barked the order. "All personnel. By order of Senior Officer Olaf Sarcowsky, we are to fire at will. Repeat, locate all Orange Star positions and fire at will, post- haste!"