X Rubinelle Presidential Palace X
The new world had not recognized such a peace since it's creation. In the past 72 hours not one bullet, shell, or missile had been fired. Each force was simply pulling back to their respective center of operations.
The Rubinelle Capital had had taken excessive damage in the ending days of the conflict. Lazurian missiles had rained on the Capital and cleared the way for bomber raids, though sporadic due to the constantly shifting balance in the channel. The NRA's base remained active, though.
Greyfield was as far from pleased as humanly possible. He'd been treated to nothing but casualty reports for the course of the offensive. He did not like this. How could he reach any of his goals without troops?
"How many are left?" He demanded of the NRA staff before him.
"Us, or theirs?" The Navy officer sitting in on of the seats said venomously. Captain Morado had been killed during the fighting, and the 3rd Fleet essentially put out of commission till their ships could be repaired.
"Both!" Greyfield snapped angrily at the officer; such disrespect was unacceptable! Beside him, Greyfield's personal guard unlatched his handgun holster beneath the table.
"We have about 9,000 Marines left, half of them currently incapacitated." Alisa Brann reported. If the Marine commander had looked ragged when the war picked up, she looked almost like a walking corpse. "There were 20,000 in channel and another 20,000 here on home defense. We had to ship most of them out." Greyfield did not this news at all.
"The remaining are on permanent duty here!" He ordered; the prospect of having no forces at his immediate command was almost frightening. The Air Force, Navy, and Army would have to finish the war. He turned to the Admirals. "How many ships remain?" He demanded.
"We have a Battleship and three Cruisers." The officer now in charge of the 3rd fleet responded. "All of them are damaged."
"The Odin, Garm, and Pontus made it through with damage, but we lost the rest of our battleships. We got a submarine and thirteen cruisers and a destroyer." Admiral Ryman went on. Greyfield's face was turning a rather dangerous looking shade of purple. His Navy! His greatest asset. Gone! He made a note to execute all POWs later for revenge.
"And you?" He turned to Captain Hamilton. His most efficient Admiral surely had good news. Greyfield was not disappointed.
"The "Hellhound and Doberman survived without battle damage." He reported. "The battleship Aegir and Carrier Saga are also operational. 68% of our Cruiser and Destroyer escorts were damaged but preserved. Any other Naval Detachments have been destroyed as far as our sources can determine.
Greyfield whipped around as to not let them see his face. Those were the only ships he had left… "How many ships does Lazuria have?" He wheeled around and demanded.
"Based on our reports, they maintain 3 battleships and a pair of carriers." Now Greyfield was grinning again; he now outnumbered them. "They still have a significant gunboat fleet though." This news sailed over Greyfield's head.
"Effective immediately, all remaining ships will be repaired and formed into one fleet under Admiral Hamilton." Greyfield declared. Hamilton nodded in acceptance. If the two other navy officers were offended, they didn't show it. "I want the rest of their wretched country's navy destroyed as soon as possible!" He ordered before rounded on the frail old man in one of the other chairs. "How many troops does our Army maintain?"
"About 13,000 total." General Stanhope responded tiredly. "Down from 30,000." Even Lazuria's first counter-attack hadn't been so deadly. "There's only four units I still confirm are independently combat capable: the 332nd and 334th Regiments of the 49th Airborne Division, the 12th Armored Battalion, and the 80th Attack Helicopter Squadron. We got artillery and anti-air remnants everywhere. And I think the 1st and 4th Armored Divisions are trying to regroup all their tanks."
"And Lazuria?" Greyfield demanded.
"They still have more tanks then us, but we seem to have decimated their artillery branch." Greyfield nodded. "But we still have man shortage on our end. We got a lot of vehicles without men to command them." Greyfield nodded tightly. It was a reversal of fortunes.
"Very well. Regroup all units and replace the older equipment. I want our forces to be using only the most modern weapons." He ordered. "Except the 12th Battalion." He added as a afterthought, remembering just who commanded it. He paused to think about it.
"Are they here yet?" He asked. When Stanhope shook his head, Greyfield went on. "When they do, I'll give more orders." He turned to the other commanders. Shane Kealey seemed the least aged of everyone, Waylon excluded. Then again, the casualty figures for the irregular forces were lower then any other branch.
"Still got a good 7,000 men, down from 9,000." Greyfield nodded approvingly.
"Then you shall get a promotion." He decided. This was essentially meaningless, since everyone was already serving in posts below their rank. "Waylon?" Greyfield turned to the last officer. Waylon paused from his burger and picked up a piece of paper in front of him, muttering when he got grease all over the numbers.
"Yeah, uh… We still got 119 fighters, 25 bombers, 72 Sky Raiders and some 34 attack helicopters." His eyes went to the bottom of the list he took another bite of his food. "Those chumps still got 90 fighters, 15 bombers, and 97 of those Sturmovik scrap heaps." Waylon let the paper fall to the floor and continued his eating. "About 100 Hinds, too."
"Very well. Very well…" Greyfield said quietly. "Now, on to more important matters. What was that damn weapon the Lazurians used on the mountain?!" Greyfield's voice rose, and he banged angrily on the table. It had taken all his self control up to this point to not order someone hanged.
The very idea was horrid: the drop in morale it would cause, the influence Lazuria would wield, the end to Greyfield's ambitions… They had to destroy it immediately. "Davis!" Greyfield roared. The man cautiously crept forward with the report Rubinelle intelligence services had compiled.
"Well…umm…the Capitol's whole Air Defense system got trashed." He glanced fearfully up at the ceiling, where most of the lights had broken and fallen. "Most of our bunkers and any sort of fortification are destroyed…" Now he looked fearfully at Greyfield. "They uh…don't know what the weapon was." He braced himself.
"Then they are lousy, incompetent fools!" Greyfield said angrily. "And they will pay for it. But the rest of the report first, Davis."
"Well…" He looked down at the sheet. "Uh…according to messages they intercepted, Lazuria thinks we detonated the weapon…" This even caught Greyfield by surprise.
"Could another country be involved?" General Stanhope pondered. This would be even worse to Greyfield: foreigners meddling in his ideals. He'd get to them eventually.
"That mountain used to house a weapon research facility." Brann said. "If anything, it was a freak accident. No other country had reasons to get involved." Rubinelle barely had any diplomatic ties with other countries, and no bases outside their own country.
"Did it?" Greyfield looked at her accusingly. "Why was I not aware of it before?" He demanded. His bodyguard pulled out his pistol under the table.
"It got decommissioned a few years ago." She answered calmly. "One of my Marines there reported finding a tunnel it used to move cargo. There's no telling what was down there."
"An accident…" General Stanhope looked pale. Losing troops in battle a horrible thing. But by something that could've been prevented…
"Have all troops recalled the Capitol for reorganization." Greyfield ordered. Aside from that, the troops could indulge in some special treatment. Loosening such restrictions were what had guaranteed Greyfield their loyalty.
"More then that, we'll have to change strategies." Admiral Ryman warned. "We don't have the forces to form garrisons anymore. We'll have to switch to direct action tactics." No one vocally argued with him.
"Let's just get everything in order again before we do that." Kealey suggested. Greyfield nodded.
"Very well then…Dismissed." He thundered, and the staff left. "Watch that officer." Greyfield hissed to his body guard. "She is withholding information." The guard nodded and followed her. Greyfield was left to his own thinking.
He had the irregular forces largely intact. And by the time his regular forces rearmed themselves, he could give them most of the older equipment and make them much more potent. Then there was the 12th Battalion…
"A threat." Greyfield held that view since we first heard of their existence. But, he thought, they could become useful yet…
X Tim X
"This place is trashed." I looked at the Capital as the ship sailed into port. Having rode on a gunboat and a Cruiser for two days, I'd been looking forward to a warm and comfortable bed. It probably wasn't there any more. It pissed me off. "So much for home."
Sarah's entire idea seemed ridiculous now, but if the apartment was destroyed, the idea would probably go with it. We hadn't got paid in over a year; so unless we were issued another building, it was back to a tent. I hated the idea now.
Sarah sighed beside me. "It's worth checking." She pointed out. I grunted in response.
"You think the rest of them are here?" I asked.
"I'm pretty sure the Battalion was clear of whatever blast that was." Sarah said thoughtfully. "Not sure about those other guys…" I didn't answer. Shit happens; they were probably dead. Leaving that unsaid, we departed.
The neighborhood the apartments were in was actually pretty damn okay. "Maybe." I left it at that. Sarah also look hopefully. "Still leaves the question of what the fuck we're going to do." Helicopters weren't cheap. They were hard to get even before the sky fell.
"We can figure it out tomorrow." Sarah yawned. "I'm tired. Those beds on the ship are impossible to sleep on."
"You can say that again." I agreed; it had felt like sleeping on a stone. My face fell. "Damn it." I looked at the ruined bar. "So much for getting wasted." Sarah didn't comment on it.
We walked on in silence. It was like the whole damn city was dead. Aside from the people we'd seen at the port, there wasn't anyone else. Kinda creepy, actually, and cold.
"Kind of makes you wonder if people still want to fight." Sarah said quietly, always somehow being able to read my mind.
"I don't blame them if they don't. This war is fucking crazy." I spotted the street the apartments were on. Or had been. They might've been destroyed. We both stopped before turning the corner onto the street and looked at each other.
"No point waiting." We both agreed. We stepped around the corner. Sarah sighed loudly in relief; the whole street was unharmed. We both nearly ran to the building. As soon as we entered the apartment lobby, we could already tell the building was deserted.
"No one is even back yet." I realized.
"Good." Sarah seemed to like the news. "I'd like a peaceful nap." She might've, but I felt strangely alone. This pretty much evaporated when I stepped inside.
"Home sweet home." I stretched out on the bed. Sarah flopped down beside me.
"First time we've ever been truly alone recently, isn't it?" She asked.
"I guess it is." I admitted. "Oof." Sarah rolled over and sat on me.
"We should take advantage of that." She grinned.
"I thought you wanted to take a nap?" I grinned back.
"Later." She leaned down. "I don't think we'll ever get another opportunity like this again…"
As fun as it was, I couldn't help but notice Sarah acting oddly. She seemed more anxious for some odd reason. It was reason enough to stop and out right ask her.
"…Shit." She seemed to think she'd been putting up a good act. She tossed my clothes in my face. "Get dressed; what I'm about to say is too important."
The look on her face did not put me at ease. Her mouth seemed tight like she was trying not to frown. Her eyes seemed…afraid?
"I'm listening." I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice; I still didn't like these conversations.
"Fine. Better to be straight forward." She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them and looked straight at me. "I want a-" A crash outside cut her off.
"Hey man, watch where you step!" Darren yelled.
"Dumbass." Jessie added.
"Fuck you guys!" Dominic shot back. I was so busy staring at the door that I didn't notice Sarah's expression change. When I did, I nearly jumped back against the wall. She looked, quite simply, ready to murder someone.
"Well…they got back pretty fast." I said uneasily. Sarah didn't respond. I reached out for her shoulder, but she slapped it away and buried herself under the covers. "Assholes." I thought irritably as I got up. "What the hell are you doing?" I thrust my head out the door.
If I hadn't been thinking of Sarah, I would've laughed at how Dominic practically smashed his head on the ceiling as he jumped up. And how there was a wet spot in his pants when he landed.
"Holy shit!" He rubbed his head. A pair of hands beat on my shoulders. Jessie and Darren were too busy laughing their asses off to talk. Behind them, Lance and Sofia (I guess they survived) looked at me in surprise.
Stone forced his way through the crowd building up and stopped in front of me. He didn't seem surprised. Hell, nothing ever probably could surprise him anymore. "Yeah, the NRA picked us up, we just got here. Helicopter's gone though." I guessed and answered his question.
"It lowers our casualty rate." He said. "The Captain will be pleased to know."
"Uh huh." I nodded.
"We're on rest for the next several days." He informed me. "Use it to find another helicopter." Again, I nodded. He left, ushering the others too. Jessie and Darren gave me a thumbs up while Dominic sulked off to find new pants. The bomber crews walked past, some of them waving. That brat just glared at me and Clarissa didn't make eye contact. Fucking kids. My eye rose when no one else came.
"Where the hell are the others?" I asked. Behind me, I heard Sarah shift.
"They're drinking to their squadron mate's memory." One of the bomber crews called back. I snorted; none of them were even old enough to drink. I just shook my head and closed the door again. Kim and Eddie would probably throw a fit when they saw us. Better later then now.
"Well, that ruined the mood." I commented. Sarah refused to respond. "You're not going to tell me?"
"It's not the time." She grumbled. I knew a lost cause when I saw one.
"Whenever it is, then." I laid down beside her and drifted off to sleep, thinking only faintly about our odds of acquiring another helicopter.
X James X
I raised the rifle and fired once, ending the 21 gun salute. I rested it by my side. A group of Marines presented the same honor to their own. Casualties for the 12th Battalion had been light compared to the NRA: Renfew, a fighter pilot, two helicopter pilots, and a few Marines. We were giving them a proper funeral. The poor soldiers on mountain would never get one…
Even now, it was still a subject of discussion. No arms dump could create an explosion that big. And some NRA soldiers we'd talked to had informed us that reinforcements had been climbing the mountain when it went off. It had created a sense of fear and uneasiness, like all mysteries.
The Capitol had been damaged during the fighting too. Cruise missiles and then bombers, apparently. Buildings and stores for any goods soldiers indulged on were destroyed. It cast a even deeper shade of gloom over us then normal. Captain Brenner said a few words once the salute was over and allowed us to go into the city to relax.
"He's a good guy." The NRA had withdrawn from the region as soon as the bomb went off. But he'd stayed just to make sure we were okay. It was a comforting thing to know.
The service over, I tried to find Peter; we needed to go check up on our aunt and Victoria. My own squad was mourning the loss of their team member. In a way, it made me guilty; as far as I knew, they didn't have family to return to.
I eventually found Peter and Helen talking with another medical officer. He turned when I came up. "Sorry." Peter apologized. "But the hospitals are understaffed, we need to go help." I nodded; the uniform dictated his priorities.
"When I find them, I'll tell them you're okay." I told him. He nodded and the pair of them followed the medical officer. I noticed their shoulders brushing. "None of my business." I shrugged. I set off for the civilian district of the Capital.
I admittedly gave credit to Lazuria's Air Force and Strategic Rocket Forces; the civilian section of the Capital were relatively well off compared to the leveled buildings and collapsed streets of the rest of the city. But did they also hit the farms and factories? They were fair targets in war, even if civilians were employed there.
"Please let them be okay." I didn't want to lose any more of my family; they were more important to me then my duty as a soldier… Some people in civilian clothes were out and about in the street, though they didn't dare venture far. It wasn't till I turned onto the street they were on did I notice something odd going on.
"You seen anything suspicious?" A Rubinelle Marine walked over towards me. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously.
"Nothing really." I pulled the bandanna off my mouth. He visibly relaxed.
"Your accent checks out." He nodded. "A couple of Lazurian pilots brought in as POWs got loose. We're looking for them. They might be in disguise for all we know." I wondered what had been done with our own prisoners we captured. Probably turned them over.
"Was one of them a female pilot?" I asked. "My unit caught a few POWs."
"12th Battalion?" I nodded. "Yes, Corporal, they're yours."
"Damn." I forgot about my aunt and Victoria for a moment. The idea of those pilots, let alone ones with secret communications, didn't sit well with me. "Would they threaten civilians?" My hand twitched towards my sidearm. The Marine nodded.
"On with your business, but the orders are to shoot on sight." I nodded. We saluted each other as a matter of formality and I kept on my way. It might've made sense to store my equipment before coming, but the matter was far too urgent.
Apartment H, Floor 4, room 49. The whole city was organized on a grid now. I hesitated and knocked on the door. Almost immediately, the door was torn open and Victoria flung herself at me.
"You're okay!" She half sobbed.
"Of course kiddo." I patted her head. "We both are, Peter just had to stay and help." I let her drag me inside, and stopped in surprise. Our aunt was slumped in one of the arm chairs tiredly with her face in her hands. A man, tall and with black hair, was standing in front of her. I didn't even have to see 'Coleman' on his uniform's front tab to realize who it was.
Chester turned and looked at me in surprise, his eyes darting to my uniform and the Chevrons on my shoulder. My aunt looked up in surprise too. "Oh, James, we didn't know if you made it or not!" She seemed faintly embarrassed. "Victoria, come help me in the kitchen." She got up quickly and nearly dragged Victoria into the kitchen with her.
Chester, like his younger sister, had grown in few years since I'd last seen them. He was shorter then me, but taller still. He was thinner, like Peter, but less muscular then the pair of us. His face was still smooth and childish, a odd comparison to the dark look in his eyes. "What did the war do to you?"
"Been a while." I didn't sit down for fear of dirtying the furniture, but I rested the butt of my rifle on the floor and placed my helmet over the tip. Our contact back home hadn't been constant; the age and location distance was to thank. But we'd still played a ball game with the other kids or talk about events going on around the country. I could clearly remember the shining look on his face when we revealed we were enlisting. Now his face had a different look, one I recognized immediately.
"Not so easy, is it?" I nodded sympathetically. "Some people just ain't cut out for it." I wondered if it might've been insulting to him; ground work was a lot more stressful then being a pilot. He shook his head but didn't speak. "You should just resign." I suggested. "They need you here." I tried to reason.
When I first heard he was serving, I'd been proud of his resolve. I'd been worried when our aunt said he was stressed. But now that I could see he was visibly wasting away…
"I can't." He seemed pale. His voice wasn't deep as expected.
"No one would think less of you." I reasoned. I knew I wouldn't. And what officer would? "Look at how they are." I motioned towards the kitchen. "They need protection and help."
"That's what I'm doing." Without waiting for a answer, he pushed past me and hurried out the apartment. I stood in confusion while I ran over the occurrence. The first contact with him in years and it was so brief.
"He seemed so agitated and frightened…"
"He's been like that." Victoria came out of the kitchen. "He just came to see if we were alive. We tried telling him about you, but they got into a fight." She jerked her head towards the kitchen.
"Well, it is a very stressful job." I reminded her. "Let alone a kid." I suddenly felt hypocritical; my squad was his age too. My aunt didn't come out of the kitchen. "What were they arguing about?" I whispered.
"She wanted him to come home too." She whispered back. She looked sad. I stood up and stared at the door where he stormed out. Why wouldn't he want too? I stayed and talked to Victoria for a little while longer, asking her how work was going. When my aunt hadn't come back out I admitted defeat and left, promising to come back tomorrow.
"I'll tell Peter about it." He'd studied psychology a bit, maybe he could help. I didn't like seeing my remaining family torn like that. Hell, the family would die out if the war didn't end soon enough.
XX Author's Note XX
Disappointedly, I couldn't include a important scene in this chapter; it'll have to be in one of the next.
I'm glad to say we can return to the game storyline now. After another chapter (next is a filler to fix a few inconsistencies and such), we shall see History of Hate.
Leave a review on your way out.