XIII: The Collapse

""Members of Parliament, countrymen, citizens of Europe and the free world,

Yesterday, On the morning of November 8, the Britannian Empire, pursuing its course of world conquest, declared war against the European Union, this after she initiated military hostilities in Spain, resulting in great loss of life and numbers taken into captivity, many of whom have not been returned.

The long expected has thus come to pass. The forces of repression who seek to enslave the world are now moving toward our continent. Never before has humanity faced a greater challenge to life, liberty, and civilization.

To confront this threat, the efforts of all who cherish freedom must be united so that the forces of righteousness may prevail over the agents of tyranny. The eyes of the world are upon us. The prayers and hopes of the occupied and oppressed are with us. We must—and we shall—prevail.

I therefore request that Parliament recognize the state of war between the Union and
the Britannian Empire."

EU President Maxine Fournier

Address to the European Parliament, November 9, 2016."

The senior officers of the Ashfordshire Regiment gathered in front of the large television in their commander's living room, their breakfasts completely forgotten as they sat forward in their seats. On screen, an anchorman with silvering hair looked off stage seeking guidance, his harried body language indicative of the state of confusion inside the studio. Finally, a stage assistant ran up to and handed several loose sheets of documents to the veteran reporter, who immediately paled in color as he glanced over the contents. After taking a moment to dab away perspiration with a handkerchief, the man finally turned back to the audience and began to make his report.

"Good evening. Two hours ago, Britannian forces in North Africa under Prince Geoffrey and Alfred came under attack from European forces. The Princes and their commands were en route to Cairo for the scheduled Victory in Africa parade and had reached the outskirts of Alexandria when the battle took place. Details are still coming in, but initial reports indicate that XIV and XV Divisions suffered heavy losses and are in retreat. The timing of the attack—coming less than ten minutes after the European declaration of war—has led Royal Court officials to condemn the act as 'a deliberate and craven sneak attack.'

We have just received some aerial footage of from our Swiss affiliates who were on scene when the attack occurred. We'll play that for you now."

The four watched the catastrophe unfold from the vantage point of the circling news helicopter. The Britannian column, stretched out for tens of kilometers along the lone winding highway, was cut into ribbons by the pre-concealed enemy, isolated into pockets, and soon fell into disarray. The two mobile bases, richly decked out in ceremonial colors, made the most obvious targets and quickly came under fire. Organized resistance appeared to disintegrate quickly after that as hapless fragments of Britannian forces seemed to run into a shattering hail of enemy fire no matter which direction they tried to attack or flee towards, and it was not long before the site of slaughter became obscured in the rising smoke of burning vehicles and knightmare frames. "Dear God…"

Lelouch switched off the television and stood up; he had seen enough, and letting his subordinates see more would only be counterproductive. "Raise the regiment to Redcon-1. Cancel all leaves and passes. Recall every man off duty, and I do mean everyone. When you've finished carrying out your orders report to the command center, dismissed."

The prince remained behind after his officers vacated the room, standing with his hands in his pockets as he looked out the window of his three-storied residence over the rest of the base. Soon he heard the blare of the alarm siren crescendo, and was privately pleased with how quickly his troops responded to the new threat level. He watched as a squad of four Sutherlands rumbled towards their assembly point before he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"… Too soon."

Closing the door softly behind him, he turned and walked towards the stairs.

"Bring us up to date, Major."

The female officer took a deep breath and began. "Through intercepting enemy and friendly radio traffic, satellite reports, as well as European media, the Defence Intelligence Staff and MI6 have both arrived at the conclusion that for all military intents and purposes, XIV and XV Divisions have ceased to exist."

The briefing room fell silent as each person absorbed the devastating turn of events in their own way. In the center of the table, the strategic map showed a thick blue column with an arrowhead driving westward along the coast as scattered bricks of red lay around, before, and disappeared as they fell beneath the advancing column. Kewell's hand swept went into his well kept hair. "… I can't remember the last time a catastrophe of this scale took place."

"Not in our life times," Remarked Jeremiah.

"… Casualty estimates range from six to eleven thousand, including over two-thirds of the divisions' vehicles lost and nearly all of their knightmares. We anticipate those survivors with motor transport to reach our position eventually, but for the others…"

Lelouch tapped his finger slowly against the edge of the table as he continued to look at the map. "What of the two Generals?"

"They escaped; their personal guards managed to pierce the enemy cordon and allow them to reach a civilian airstrip. Their aircraft is due to land in Casablanca shortly."

Jeremiah snorted contemptuously. "So they deserted their commands and fled across the entire African continent. I wonder what sort of face his Majesty will make when he is made aware of this."

"That will be the least of our concerns." Kewell turned back to Villetta. "Who are we up against?"

Tapping the keyboard of her notebook several times, the image projected by the overhead display changed into two side by side orders of battle. "Panzergrenadier Division Friderich and 6th Panzer Division. The EU expedition force is commanded by Field Marshall Karl von Witzleben."

"I know that name," Jeremiah tilted his head back and exhaled a heavy sigh. "Prussians, and here I was hoping that we would face Italians, or at least the French."

"No such luck I'm afraid, and it gets worse." The image changed to that of a photo of a foreign KMF laid on top of a design schematic. "Panzer Hummel A2, Armored Bumblebee—Europe's new toy. Weighs 50 percent more than our Sutherland but boasts comparable speed and just a slightly slower turn rate. Two 27mm cannons in the torso and two 76mm cannons in the arms, giving it an 8 to 1 firepower superiority against our standard KMF. Heavily reinforced legs and base make for a very stable gun platform, and we have seen it engage targets out to 1500 meters."

"Bloody murder… any weaknesses?"

"Few, unfortunately; the Hummel's thick armor gives it excellent protection to the fronts and sides. The places where our 25mm rifles have the best chance of penetrating are the joints and the armored cockpit from the rear, and even then only at close range; 300 meters or less."

"Estimate of enemy strength?"

"36,000 strong; 340 to 400 KMFs, depending on how much damage they incurred from today's action."

"Our strength?"

"53 Sutherlands."

The room returned to silence. A minute later, a knock was heard and the door to the main command room slid open, light flooding in as a young soldier entered and saluted. "My Lord, the Admiralty reports that the Home Fleet has encountered heavy enemy submarine activity off the Eastern seaboards. The Mediterranean Fleet is presently engaged and has suffered moderate losses. The Air Force reports that it has achieved parity in the North African theater but will not be able to aid us on the ground."

"I see. What word from General Cornelia?"

"The General states that she cannot send reinforcements due to pressure from Spanish forces. She deman… suggests that we give up Tobruk and withdraw westwards until reinforcements arrive from the mainland."

"Thank you. That will be all, sergeant."

When the soldier had left the room, the prince returned his gaze to the table and those sitting around it. "Well gentlemen, we are outnumbered 9 to 1 in men and 7 to 1 in machines. Our Sutherland is outclassed by any measure, our air force is preoccupied, and reinforcements will be delayed. I would hear your opinions on our course of action."

Jeremiah went first. "Sire, giving up everything we've gained in the past five months is unthinkable. We should hold our ground. If we absorb the remnants of XIV an XV Divisions we should be able to withstand a siege until reinforcements arrive."

Kewell shook his head adamantly. "I disagree. Even with the survivors—assuming any of them reach us safely—we simply won't have the numbers to hold a fortress of this size." He looked to his friend, who for once did not sour at the difference in opinion. "What we do have is ground to give; the enemy has 900 kilometers to traverse over a single highway. That gives us enough time to render Tobruk unusable and displace westward to a more defensible position."

Lelouch gave a light nod. "Major Villetta?"

The only female officer present appeared to ponder the issue before she made her reply. "I am with Major Kewell—we do not possess enough men and materiel to conduct a worthwhile static defense. I fear, however, that a delaying action may be futile if the Europeans reform and rearm the NAL units we disbanded as they reclaim lost territory. The local disparity of forces will grow even larger; we may not be able to hold Area 8."

The seconds on the clock ticked by as all eyes turned towards the young man sitting at the head of the table, whose head was bowed deep in thought. Villetta exchanged a worry look with Kewell, who turned towards Jeremiah only to find the eldest officer's expression as helpless as his own. After what seemed like an hour had passed, Lelouch straightened in his seat and placed his hands against the table.

"Gentlemen, there is nothing we can do on our own to reverse this tide… we shall need the enemy to oblige us."

Not waiting for any questions, he reached out and touched a button on the map, causing the graphic to zoom onto the regiment's present location. "Jeremiah, I want you to take the knightmare company from your battalion and move with all haste to meet the advancing Germans."

In his six years of service the proud knight had never once questioned Lelouch's decisions, but he found his faith tested now at the assignment of what appeared to be a suicide mission. "What will you have me do, Sire?

"Lose."

"I beg your pardon?"

The black prince traced a path of red from Tobruk Eastwards, stopping two grid points in front of the Blue arrowhead. "I want you to engage, retreat, and repeat. Give the enemy the impression of faltering resistance and feed their hubris. Harass them by night, target their outposts, generators, and water carriers, frustrate them. Remain in constant contact so that you may draw their armor ahead and away from their main body. Above all save your forces; we'll need every last Sutherland for the second phase."

Lelouch then zoomed the strategic map back out, and drew another path, this time a shallow arc that dipped from the coastline down towards the continent and back up, ending several grids west of Alexandria. "Kewell, once the tail of the German column has advanced past Matruh, you and Villetta will each take a reinforced rifle company and insert by air into the vicinity of El-Alamein and set up a blocking position. Your job will be to prevent the break out of retreating German forces for as long as you can."

The major stared at his commander as though he had sprouted a second head. "I'm afraid I do not comprehend, my lord."

Lelouch explained the rest of his plan. When he was finished, Kewell looked upon his prince with a new light of amazement in his eyes. "Permission to speak freely, sire?"

"You may."

"This is the most inconceivable, outrageous battle plan I have ever heard of."

"Recklessness and genius is differentiated only by success." And though he himself felt the roof of his mouth dry with apprehension, Lelouch also experienced the familiar course of adrenaline in his veins and smiled in return. "Villetta, take a small task force as far as Sidi Barrani and requisition every functioning and reparable knightmare that comes our way. Return in thirty-six hours regardless of the results."

"If their pilots refuse to hand them over?"

"I'm sure you'll come up with a way to persuade them." Villetta smiled; she understood her commander's meaning perfectly. "You all have your orders. There isn't much time so I suggest you make the best of it."

Kewell sat hunched over his desk, pen in hand when he heard the door to his bedroom open. "Can't be bothered to knock, can you?"

"Nope." Jeremiah strolled in, already in his pilot suit. "I've just come to check on you before I head off in case you need anything."

"I'll be fine. In fact I imagine I'll sleep terrifically tonight without your snor… have you been smoking again?"

The major turned around in his chair as he sniffed the air and Jeremiah grinned as he produced two fat cigars. "Just a puff to get the old gears turning. Here's your share, for our victory smoke when we're through with the Huns."

"You are incurable. What makes you think you'll even make it past phase one?"

"Aside from my peerless piloting skills? I'm of Bavarian descent, maybe they'll mistake me for an ally."

Kewell rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk while pointedly ignoring the tobacco which Jeremiah had tossed next to him.

"What are you writing over there?"

"My will, you twit."

"Really?" The elder man's eyes widened a bit. "May I have your thoroughbreds?"

"No."

"You can have my collection of Italian sports cars."

Kewell made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat as he crossed out a spelling mistake. "You can't add me to your will because you haven't even drafted one."

"That's because I won't need one, and don't plan on jinxing myself either." With a chuckle and a few quick steps, Jeremiah stole up behind the younger officer and snatched away the document. "Let's see, to St. George's Secondary School, my personal library, to my sister, three-quarters of my savings and my horses, to the city of Savannah, my collection of art. I say, you haven't got many friends besides me have you?"

"I do, I've just been hiding them from you."

"Wait now, there's more. To the siblings of Villetta Nu, my wardrobe and one-quarter of my savings for their betterment and education…" Jeremiah paused and glanced at his friend, who had developed a sudden keen interest in one of the masts of his bed. "Soresi?"

"… She's too proud to take charity from anyone. It's the only way I can get her to accept something."

Jeremiah blinked, then broke into a wide grin as he approached and laid his hand on Kewell's shoulder. "My friend, as much respect as I have for your intellectual capacity and noble spirit, the way you're going about this is simply daft. You want to help her, perhaps even impress her, but the only way she will learn about this gift of yours is when you're pushing up daisies, and what a pleasant surprise that will be."

And as much as he wished to deny it, the younger officer saw the point his dumber friend was making. "What would you recommend then?"

Jeremiah feigned dismay at his friend's question. "Ever considered roses, puppies, a box of truffles? By Jove, what morbid, joyless frontier wasteland were you raised in? Ah, I forget, you're from Australia."

Kewell hurled his pen holder at him, but Jeremiah had already zipped out the door.

Lelouch looked at the phone in his hand. The press of a button would connect him to Nunally and Euphemia in an instant, and yet he hesitated. He wondered whether it would be wise to hear their voices now, to listen to their pleas and entreaties for him to leave; that the danger was too great, that he had done enough and there was no shame in leaving and returning to fight another day. He wavered—they were his dearest weakness and he did not trust his own voice to be steady or his resolve to be steadfast by his decision.

He would certainly not lie to them.

The prince replaced the phone in its cradle. Turning to his notebook, he began to compose two letters, setting them to be delivered electronically in seven days in the absence of a cancel order. He foresaw that the coming battle would be bitter and over quickly, one way or the other. When he was finished, he turned off the lights, climbed into bed, and soon settled down to a fitful sleep.

Three days later

The first orange light of day broke over the horizon and shone onto the hilly terrain of the North African desert. A Longbow tank, hull down inside a defilade and covered overhead by a tarp and a ton of yellow sand pointed the muzzle of its menacing gun towards the East. Squinting slightly, Lelouch adjusted the contrast of the viewer and rotated the periscope around, counting the barely visible mounds aligned in a curve, each spaced 100 meters apart, twenty-four in all. A look to the tactical display showed an equal number of heavy-mortar carriers positioned a kilometer to the rear, and a dozen light attack helicopters airborne ten kilometers ahead, searching, waiting.

Jeremiah's voice crackled over the headset. "Orange force is in position. Broke contact with enemy vanguard thirty minutes ago; 300 plus units heading on course."

"Understood, Orange lead. Standby for orders."

"Griffon lead here. Enemy vanguard spotted fifteen kilometers out, panzers no infantry. Griffon squad is engaging."

"Understood. Reel them in, Griffon lead."

Lelouch followed the bright afterburners of the missiles as they sped up and away from the hovering helicopters before diving down at an unseen foe. He narrowed his eyes when he saw a veritable rain of tracers erupt towards the sky, exploding well over half of the missiles before they reached their target. Several minutes later, the tracers and explosions began to reach the helicopters and Griffon squadron-Lelouch's only armed air asset-began to pull back.

"… And so it begins."

Author's Notes: One month between updates this time. The next chapter will definitely come much quicker as I finish up my summer courses. The opening speech was heavily inspired by Allied WW2 declarations and serves as a reminder to us all that Britannia is supposed to be the bad guy in all this, but that's okay. This is the beginning of The Final Battle (because the next one will be a long ways off) and I guarantee that Lelouch will not emerge unscathed. Thanks once more to those who have read and reviewed this story, from all across the world (I apologize for offending my Italian, French, and Australian readers; Jeremiah is a narrow minded man and his opinions are not mine). Until next time.