Pivot Isle, Orange Star, 8/3
"Andrew Klein!"
The uniformed man shouted out the name of the new prodigy that would be the fleeting chance of Orange Star's survival. Andrew Klein, of the Pivot Isle research facility, was finished with the usual commanding officer training regime, but had finished with one of the highest scores in the country. It was far higher but still in a shorter time than either Maxwell McDowell or Samantha Rowe, and he was one of the youngest to even apply to the facility at 19 years old, still a little short, but plainly sharp and wise.
"Yes, sir! Reporting for duty, sir!" he responded.
"You don't have to answer in such a plastic voice. You've been drafted up to an emergency assignment. We need you to guard the capital. It's about, I'd say, 4 days away from Blue Moon capture. It's one of the worst material crisis's in history."
"Glad to finally be part of the big team," he said with repose.
"Um, I cannot guarantee that you will like this. We have very little to work with. Almost all of our standing army is with the other commanding officers, and we only have new recruits for you to work with. They are the best we've got."
"What would that be, sir?"
"Well, so far we've only managed to train various personnel, since just about all of our mining facilities have been captured. We're borrowing from Green Earth as quickly as possible, but you'll have to make do with what we've got for now. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. You will be flown over to davenport at 05 hours tomorrow, and I can only wish the best of luck for our country."
"I won't fail. If I can pass the way I did, I can take care of some old fart and his hick partner."
"You'd better be very careful, we have little information on those two commanding officers. After a little fighting, we will be able to determine their strengths and weaknesses," the man finished. He left the room.
Andrew donned his characteristic red uniform and prepared to leave. He walked out onto the porch of his office, and saw a man in a black uniform striding towards him. He stopped and stared for a moment.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Andrew Klein, sir," said the man in black. He spoke with an accent Andrew had never heard. It sounded thickly foreign, jerky but every syllable ending with a gentle drawl. He was startled. "I have come to interview you on this starting day of your glory."
"Sure," he said, letting his sturdy ego get the better of him. The man nodded, and two more black-clothed men came running up with a camera and a clipboard. "First question. Name a hit for you."
"What?" Asked Andrew, puzzled.
"You know, a hit. Something that you like."
"Oh. Mechanics," he said. It was his main field and his top industrial priority.
"All right. Now name a miss. Something that you don't like," said the man, who's voice grew jerky again.
"A miss? Fine. I hate waking up early in the morning," he said, recalling his having to wake up at 5:00 tomorrow.
"Alright, great. Name something you would use your power as commanding officer to stress tactically. Name your strengths and weaknesses."
Andrew thought a moment. Why would they need to know that? If they were part of the institute, they would have known from his records that he never asked for any money to be taken from one strength or given to another, such as Maxwell's superior direct firepower for sacrificed artillery range. But he was too curious to keep quiet at this point.
"I call for equality, 100% infantry equipment, 100% vehicular strength and 100% artillery power as well as normal range and radar vision for all," he said in a militant tone.
"Thank you. Now, for the final question. What is your emergency procedure? More fundamentally, your commanding officer power?"
"My designs reflect ease of repairing, and so in a sticky situation, the vehicles can be repaired 20% within a day. I call it my 'hyper repair' process."
"Thank you. You have been very helpful. I think, yes, that it is time for us to be leaving."
"Now if you could just tell me what the survey is for?" He asked as the man on the left began to snap pictures.
"For publicity, of course!" he said with unnatural quickness. "You want all of the people of your country to know about your life, right?"
As Andrew though for a moment, the men strode off quickly without a parting word. Andrew went to prepare for his debut at Davenport, but in his room, he casually looked out the window. He saw the two men get into an Orange Star helicopter. It began to lift off, and it headed out to sea. Not off to another peninsula, but out over the ocean as if returning to Green Earth. Out in the water, several miles away, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a black cruiser.
---
Davenport, Orange Star, 8/7
Olaf was on the largest streak he'd ever been on. He'd practically marched across the Orange Star peninsula nonstop, and had hardly ever even bothered to take position. True power was key in this war, and mobilizing against your enemy's weakness was only the second blow in the one-two punch. He had figured out these fool's attack patterns rather easily with his years of experience in other wars.
The big brute would try to run in and annihilate everything with his tanks, and destroying them with artillery as soon as they were in range could easily stop that. It was sometimes easier to let Gratin take care of him, for his improved artillery would usually break the back of the ape's force before his inferior tanks and troops would have to come into play.
The shrewish, frail-boned woman would send her troops in through the woods or mountains, or just speed then through cities with her carriers. She always seemed to show up unexpectedly, but when she did, she was fair game for him, as he kept his units in tight, well-rounded formations that could usually take care of her troops and inferior tanks.
The only way he would let himself defeated would be if he were sent up against a tactically superior opponent with few or no weaknesses. Nothing was more fun than watching artillery shells destroy the large, thick barreled tanks of the ape-like man. He would go down in history as the man who established the never-ending reign of the Blue Moon.
"Commander Sarcowsky!" shouted an officer into his face. Olaf quickly snapped out of his daydream and rose to attention.
"What is it, officer?" he asked in his traditionally booming voice.
"We have broken through their line of defense. The enemies are now separated, Maxwell to the North and Samantha to the South, and neither are in the position to close in. Expect capture of the Orange Star capital and removal of president Sarcowsky in approximately two days."
Olaf felt the familiar sting of guilt for his actions. If there was any reason he might have hesitated in his conquest, it was the ordeal of ousting his own daughter of her power. But this quilt was quickly crushed by his desire to watch her fall flat on her face. All her life she had been lucky. She refused to join him in heading to Blue Moon, just because her rude self didn't like the crisp cold winters and short, wet summers of the country. And what a bitter coincidence it was that his colleague, Gratin Tucker, had happened to be her long-time boyfriend at the time of his decision to join Blue Moon. It had also brought a pang of guilt to think of how he had near wrecked his daughter's life, but the lucky little trout had managed to become president, which negated most of that guilt.
"Great," he said. "Send in infantry, keep the vehicular forces back a bit. We need to focus on capture, not destruction."
The officer left. If Gratin cannot bring himself to bring down his ex girlfriend, Olaf thought, he could go one better and bring down his own daughter. It would be climactic, dramatic and a little bit traumatic, but he would do it.
"Andrew Klein!"
The uniformed man shouted out the name of the new prodigy that would be the fleeting chance of Orange Star's survival. Andrew Klein, of the Pivot Isle research facility, was finished with the usual commanding officer training regime, but had finished with one of the highest scores in the country. It was far higher but still in a shorter time than either Maxwell McDowell or Samantha Rowe, and he was one of the youngest to even apply to the facility at 19 years old, still a little short, but plainly sharp and wise.
"Yes, sir! Reporting for duty, sir!" he responded.
"You don't have to answer in such a plastic voice. You've been drafted up to an emergency assignment. We need you to guard the capital. It's about, I'd say, 4 days away from Blue Moon capture. It's one of the worst material crisis's in history."
"Glad to finally be part of the big team," he said with repose.
"Um, I cannot guarantee that you will like this. We have very little to work with. Almost all of our standing army is with the other commanding officers, and we only have new recruits for you to work with. They are the best we've got."
"What would that be, sir?"
"Well, so far we've only managed to train various personnel, since just about all of our mining facilities have been captured. We're borrowing from Green Earth as quickly as possible, but you'll have to make do with what we've got for now. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. You will be flown over to davenport at 05 hours tomorrow, and I can only wish the best of luck for our country."
"I won't fail. If I can pass the way I did, I can take care of some old fart and his hick partner."
"You'd better be very careful, we have little information on those two commanding officers. After a little fighting, we will be able to determine their strengths and weaknesses," the man finished. He left the room.
Andrew donned his characteristic red uniform and prepared to leave. He walked out onto the porch of his office, and saw a man in a black uniform striding towards him. He stopped and stared for a moment.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Andrew Klein, sir," said the man in black. He spoke with an accent Andrew had never heard. It sounded thickly foreign, jerky but every syllable ending with a gentle drawl. He was startled. "I have come to interview you on this starting day of your glory."
"Sure," he said, letting his sturdy ego get the better of him. The man nodded, and two more black-clothed men came running up with a camera and a clipboard. "First question. Name a hit for you."
"What?" Asked Andrew, puzzled.
"You know, a hit. Something that you like."
"Oh. Mechanics," he said. It was his main field and his top industrial priority.
"All right. Now name a miss. Something that you don't like," said the man, who's voice grew jerky again.
"A miss? Fine. I hate waking up early in the morning," he said, recalling his having to wake up at 5:00 tomorrow.
"Alright, great. Name something you would use your power as commanding officer to stress tactically. Name your strengths and weaknesses."
Andrew thought a moment. Why would they need to know that? If they were part of the institute, they would have known from his records that he never asked for any money to be taken from one strength or given to another, such as Maxwell's superior direct firepower for sacrificed artillery range. But he was too curious to keep quiet at this point.
"I call for equality, 100% infantry equipment, 100% vehicular strength and 100% artillery power as well as normal range and radar vision for all," he said in a militant tone.
"Thank you. Now, for the final question. What is your emergency procedure? More fundamentally, your commanding officer power?"
"My designs reflect ease of repairing, and so in a sticky situation, the vehicles can be repaired 20% within a day. I call it my 'hyper repair' process."
"Thank you. You have been very helpful. I think, yes, that it is time for us to be leaving."
"Now if you could just tell me what the survey is for?" He asked as the man on the left began to snap pictures.
"For publicity, of course!" he said with unnatural quickness. "You want all of the people of your country to know about your life, right?"
As Andrew though for a moment, the men strode off quickly without a parting word. Andrew went to prepare for his debut at Davenport, but in his room, he casually looked out the window. He saw the two men get into an Orange Star helicopter. It began to lift off, and it headed out to sea. Not off to another peninsula, but out over the ocean as if returning to Green Earth. Out in the water, several miles away, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a black cruiser.
---
Davenport, Orange Star, 8/7
Olaf was on the largest streak he'd ever been on. He'd practically marched across the Orange Star peninsula nonstop, and had hardly ever even bothered to take position. True power was key in this war, and mobilizing against your enemy's weakness was only the second blow in the one-two punch. He had figured out these fool's attack patterns rather easily with his years of experience in other wars.
The big brute would try to run in and annihilate everything with his tanks, and destroying them with artillery as soon as they were in range could easily stop that. It was sometimes easier to let Gratin take care of him, for his improved artillery would usually break the back of the ape's force before his inferior tanks and troops would have to come into play.
The shrewish, frail-boned woman would send her troops in through the woods or mountains, or just speed then through cities with her carriers. She always seemed to show up unexpectedly, but when she did, she was fair game for him, as he kept his units in tight, well-rounded formations that could usually take care of her troops and inferior tanks.
The only way he would let himself defeated would be if he were sent up against a tactically superior opponent with few or no weaknesses. Nothing was more fun than watching artillery shells destroy the large, thick barreled tanks of the ape-like man. He would go down in history as the man who established the never-ending reign of the Blue Moon.
"Commander Sarcowsky!" shouted an officer into his face. Olaf quickly snapped out of his daydream and rose to attention.
"What is it, officer?" he asked in his traditionally booming voice.
"We have broken through their line of defense. The enemies are now separated, Maxwell to the North and Samantha to the South, and neither are in the position to close in. Expect capture of the Orange Star capital and removal of president Sarcowsky in approximately two days."
Olaf felt the familiar sting of guilt for his actions. If there was any reason he might have hesitated in his conquest, it was the ordeal of ousting his own daughter of her power. But this quilt was quickly crushed by his desire to watch her fall flat on her face. All her life she had been lucky. She refused to join him in heading to Blue Moon, just because her rude self didn't like the crisp cold winters and short, wet summers of the country. And what a bitter coincidence it was that his colleague, Gratin Tucker, had happened to be her long-time boyfriend at the time of his decision to join Blue Moon. It had also brought a pang of guilt to think of how he had near wrecked his daughter's life, but the lucky little trout had managed to become president, which negated most of that guilt.
"Great," he said. "Send in infantry, keep the vehicular forces back a bit. We need to focus on capture, not destruction."
The officer left. If Gratin cannot bring himself to bring down his ex girlfriend, Olaf thought, he could go one better and bring down his own daughter. It would be climactic, dramatic and a little bit traumatic, but he would do it.