A/N: Sorry for the ultra über long hiatus. I really don't have any excuse, and I really cannot say if I can't get this on a regular basis. But I will keep on building it for some time, that's for sure even if it seems like I drop it. Also, you can check out the Armament Protocol section in the Wattpad version for some minor graphic details (story/308279584-a-spring-yet-to-come).


04:50 AM, December 13th, 1097. Irkutsk frontier town.

Count Bezukhov sat silently in the rocking chair by the crackling fireplace, his frail and old body wrapped snugly in a thick wool blanket against the bone-cutting cold seeping into the inadequately insulated room. His eyelid welded closed and his mind adrift in some other reality, while his bodyguard Georgy snored on the couch nearby and Natalya slept downstairs. The three of them had been awake since the thunder began to fall the afternoon before, and the count had only recently tried to catch some shut-eye after much coaxing from the two servants - after all, there was nothing to do but sit and wait for further words from the scouts. But as the night passed uneventfully and the rattling arctic wind died down along with the thunders in the distant dark frontier, Georgy and his wife Natalya finally decided to catch some rest as well, opting to wait for the local militia scout to update on the situation instead, should there be anything worth knowing.

"Count Bezukhov?"

The dark pine door opened with a slight groan, and a burly Perro man wearing a grey ushanka blanketed in white flakes walked in lightly. His sunken emerald eyes glanced around at the others sleeping in the cozy study, before deciding to keep quiet and just carefully doing his best to tip-toe across the room to reach the old nobleman softly snoring by the fireplace.

"Huh? Who?!" Georgy suddenly snapped his eyes open, rousing from his sleepy state from the creaking noises on the floor with his hands ready to swing the small foldable battle-axe tucked under his arm, "Oh, it's you Stefan… What do you need?"

"To update on a new situation. The old hag got a new calculation", Colonel Stefan of the local garrison stared intensely at the Ursine and his axe for a while, seemingly trying to decide whether it was a good idea to approach a half-asleep bear-folk with a big iron in his hand, "For some reasons, the risk of a Catastrophe has vanished."

"So, isn't that good for us?" Georgy whispered so as not to wake up his liege.

"The problem would be that suka actually", Stefan grimaced, "You know-"

"Stefan?" The croaked voice of the old count startled the two men, prompting them to turn their heads over to the rocking chair by the fireplace, "Have you just arrived?"

"Yes, Your Grace", the colonel nodded respectfully as he went to find a seat. A small creaking sound echoed across the room as Stefan planted himself down on a chair next to Georgy while facing Count Bezukhov, "I've brought news of our storm-seer, and uh… she says the threat of Catastrophe has gone. We are safe now."

Konev sat quietly for a while, rocking back and forth from his little personal refuge while gazing still at the dancing flames. "That's good, that's good", the old Ursine murmured before clapping his hands together for a prayer, "I thank thee, His Holy Majesty Vladimir and the grace of Motherland, for blessing us to weather through these trials, to protect the livelihood of us children of the lands…"

Colonel Stefan and Georgy could only glance at each other in silence while waiting for the count to finish his short litany. "Well, aside from that though", the Perro finally broke the silence, "I fear that bastard Kalinsky might use this event to wrestle even more political influence from you, Your Grace. Since the old hag Anastasia is on your side, Your Grace, that rotten sereplashchi (silver-cloak: a slur targeting officers of high ranks who have extensive political connections instead of actual competency. Based on the silver-embroidered ceremonial cloak granted to these politically-promoted officers - all bark, no bite, just like their fancy cloaks) would most likely cite her mistake as a retrospective justification for his certainly questionable actions during the time of crisis. Like how he barely did anything at all unless it was to get his so-called 'friends' and wealth ready to go while leaving the majority of the townsfolk and us behind."

"To think that I even urged my Lord to take on his offer", Georgy scowled, a low but audible feral growl rumbled in his throat as he recalled the matter, "Hate as I am to admit it, I had even thought it was the best shot we have to get our Lord out of harm way."

"I will not leave my subjects behind, my boy", the old Count croaked dryly with some coughing, prompting Georgy to quickly draw his flask of warm tea and pour some into the metal canteen cup before handing it to his liege. Konev nodded gratefully at the touching gesture of his bodyguard and slowly enjoyed the warm, soothing sensation of the tea whirling in his throat and mouth, "It is a Lord's duty to ensure the well-being of his lesser, for they are the ones who give unto him their bountiful harvests and it was their sweats, blood, and tears which build our land."

Both Konev's bodyguard and the Perro colonel could only share a glance at each other and smiled bitterly at Konev's words without saying anything. "Still, that suka sure is crafty", Stefan crossed his hands as he gazed back and forth between the old nobleman and the bodyguard, "From what I know, he intended to board the caravan only when his scouts from IPU reported back if the Catastrophe were half an hour away from Irkutsk. Half an hour is barely enough to escape an encroaching Catastrophe, assuming that you have already had everything in place ready to go at the moment of notice. You do know what this means, right Georgy?"

"I did not survive the Imperial Grenadier Corps without dabbling in some politicking", the Ursine bodyguard shook his head dejectedly, "If there were indeed a Catastrophe, then he could just make some excuses and be forgiven anyway. After all, the Imperial Decrees about the Infected Patrol Department allow their units to preserve their strength at the expense of common citizens if the economic and manpower damages did not exceed the benefits of preserving the units - and knowing ourselves, I'm quite sure we do not even exist on the majority of Imperial records due to how insignificant this town is. Hell, I didn't even know of this godforsaken place until I heard it directly from His Grace. If he is depraved enough, which I think he might be, he might even take it as a chance to show up as some sort of beacon of hope, throwing some of his kopecks in to rebuild a couple of houses here and there. Doesn't even need the entire town to be reconstructed, just enough to bolster his public image with the right people at the right time. He already made most of his wealth through the mines and those poor sods more than the amount he has been embezzling from the town treasury anyway."

"At least he has the decency not to rob everything from us poor fucking peasants with bloody nothing more than potatoes and dirt", Stefan chortled, followed by wholehearted laughter from Georgy and Konev as well.

The Ursine ex-grenadier then poured himself a glass of hot tea from his flask, chugging it down in one go before continuing, "And if there were no Catastrophe, as we all know that forecaster is not always one hundred percent accurate, then they can just write it off the record, saying that he was preventing unnecessary fear-mongering and mass hysteria. Quite a smart scheme, if I might say. Normally, I would have sent a letter to ask Vorkuta to release their calculation data on the day that Lady Anastasia predicted the Catastrophe and used it to put that cocksucker down a notch or two, but unfortunately, the Marquis of Vorkuta and the IPU HQ there are just about as intertwined as grapevine and a pole, so there will definitely be some heavy manipulation of data if they even bothered to write back to us."

"If only we can do something", Stefan leaned back against the soft cushion tiredly, "By Emperor Vladimir, I hate that rotten face and his disgusting smugness."

"And what can you do about it?" Count Bezukhov sighed tiredly after listening to the two of them conversing with each other. Politics had never been Konev's forte, though unfortunately, it was exactly the reason why he was in his current situation now, "Write a complaint letter to the Commissionary of State Inspection, stating that his smugness is an offense to His Imperial Majesty?"

Colonel Stefan had no comeback for it, nor did Georgy. They could not, for they all understood that the vastness of the Empire, her state of crumbling underdeveloped communication infrastructures, and the unfortunate combination of both corruption and inefficiency of the Commissionary meant it would be years for a courier to exchange any information back and forth. And even if the information did reach the Commissionary, it was unlikely that they would do anything against a department that answered directly to the highest circle within the Imperial Council.

"Well, I guess there is that", the Ursine bodyguard could only lament as he poured his Lord and himself another serving of tea from a nearby samovar.

"Quite so, I'm afraid", the old man sighed deeply, his eyes turned back to the mesmerizing dancing flames, "I am in my last years anyway. Even if I managed to stop Kalinsky from asserting dominance now, what stops him from doing so after a few years when I have finally gone? A fruitless endeavor, so just leave it at that."

Stefan frowned, clenching his grip on the handle of his black-sheathed shashka, but he decided to drop the matter then and there. Georgy just glanced at the Perro with a bit of pity and sympathy, sharing his feelings with the colonel in knowing that being stuck between a rock and hard place offered them not many alternatives they could take. After all, Konev was also a disgraced noble after the wake of the Great Rebellion - a 'traitor', or so they called - and not many would like to associate or even so much as to be in contact with former rebels for the sake of their political standings.

"Still there is- uff!" The old count coughed slightly, "-one thing that I am not so sure of myself. How was the investigation about the strange thunder, Stefan?"

"About that, Your Grace", Stefan quickly perked up again as he produced some sheets of the document out and handed it over to Georgy, who in turn took a glance at them before passing those on to his lord, "After some discussions and a long analysis with my deputy, I am quite positively sure that the sounds were indeed from artillery - some really heavy guns they must be or else the sounds won't be that loud. The patterns made were too orderly and calculated to be the works of nature. I used to be an ammo-bearer aboard a land warship for a while, I knew it when I heard a good stonk from that massive debil."

"Though that is quite hard to believe for me if I must say", Georgy furrowed his brow, "No conventional imperial forces will dare to operate so close to the demonic territories out there. And neither the Imperial Life Guards nor those Wendigo nomadic warriors utilize artillery in their arsenal since they both prioritize speed and shock factor along with their superior Arts prowess."

"The thunders which turn out to be some sort of distant bombardment might not be the only strange things that have happened recently, my boy" Count Bezukhov suddenly asked, craning his neck over to the Ursine, "Both of you remember that flying thing we briefly talked about some time earlier?"

"Ah, that", the bodyguard nodded, "Still, it is… quite hard to assume that they are from some other civilizations out there inhabiting the lands beyond our own known Terran realms and the dark lands. Knowing about the demons, I find it's an unlikely prospect that anyone can survive the demonic hinterlands."

"And who is to say that there is no land of civilization beyond the darkscape of death? Perhaps they are to us like what the first Iberian and Victorian colonists were to the natives of Columbia and Sargon", Konev's lips curved upward with a warm feeling in his stomach as he tasted the warm fragrant delight of hot Zazny southern tea running down his throat and spread inside his body, "For the years I had spent here, not even once I saw anyone from the Imperial Army being dispatched here. Only a few of those warriors of the Wendigo enclaves traveled here if there was any risk of an incursion."

"Perhaps", Stefan's eyes glued to the ceiling, his fingers rasping an old sailor tune against the wooden arm of his chair, "Or perhaps not, we do not know for sure my liege. What if the flying object you told me were some sort of new, experimental UAV of the Dushka Design Bureau or other aviation design bureaus of which we haven't been aware?"

"Also unlikely, in my opinion", Georgy countered, "Ever since the Bloodpeak Campaign, the majority of our aviation bureaus had been cut off from the funding in favor of more traditional ground-based warfare and modernization of the land fleet in order to balance it out with economic recovery, and the Imperial Legions are still going that way according to what I learned from the couriers earlier this month. Putting those circumstances together, I find it hard to believe that any new model of unmanned drone has been developed recently, much less being sent this far out to our forsaken tundra just for some field testing when they can just go to Fortress Baudenburg near Sami border instead since that place never has any shortage of hostile incursions and skirmishes - both from those blasted Samian witches and the demons. Still, your theory is somewhat more reasonable to me."

"Good point", the Perro colonel conceded, taking out a small metal flask of liquor and pouring down his throat a small swig, "So in that case, basically, either the demons are now going for technologies instead of their usual cursed magecraft, or we are probably dealing with some sort of aliens here as my liege said. Though the best case would be it was really the Imperial forces."

"And I sincerely pray that it would be the latter two rather than the first", the ex-grenadier shuddered at the thought of those cursed creatures beginning to field war machines of their own. That would be very, VERY bad for the Empire if that had been the case.

"So, Stefan-" Count Bezukhov coughed lightly mid-sentence, "Anyway, have you got any idea on how to do with the information we have so far deducted or gathered?"

"Just the usual procedures, Your Grace", the Perro colonel said, "If that suka Kalinsky is not going to be the usual obnoxious hindrance, I think I am going to try to organize a scouting party to venture north for some further investigation. After all, if it is something related to demonic activities, we should really get as much information as we can and send a fast rider over to the Wendigo warband of Crimson Moon currently stationed not too far south of our town."

"Against demons, it is always best to use another of their kind", a soft sigh escaped the old Ursine's wrinkled lips. He knew how powerful they were, but the betrayal of Grand Marshal Buldrokkas'tee - the infamous Patriot, Slaughterer of Knights - many years prior had caused many to be wary of the Wendigo enclaves, "I am sorry that you will have to deal with Kalinsky on your own since neither my boy Georgy or me are nowhere as well-connected to balance out his influence."

"Neither am I, Your Grace", Stefan could only smile bitterly, "Neither am I. I am barely able to wiggle my way around as it is, has it not been for the invaluable support of your daughter Lady Aksinia, Your Grace."

Afterwards, it was just another few rounds of trivial bantering and some more discussion about the uncertainty of the days yet to come to their home in Irkutsk.


05:06 AM, 15th October 1993 (D-1 post-transference), Point Hope Headquarters, New World.

Bibipbibipbibip…

Hualong groaned as he pulled himself out of the wonderful dreamland he had been in and back into reality from the constant beeping noise of the communication system. He swerved his arm annoyingly over to the bedside, rattling around with various miscellaneous items he left on there until he found the familiar square-shaped button squishing underneath his finger and tiredly pressed down on it.

"What is it?"

"You should come over here right now, Hualong", it was Ben Carville of all people on the other end. But if it was Ben of all people, then it was likely something of urgency, "We are having a situation. An important one, so get your ass oscar mike."

Then Ben just hung up on the call like that even before the Chinese general could even reply. Grumbling in annoyance, Hualong had no choice but to force himself out of the comfort of his sleeping cot, stumbling his way across the books and documents-covered floor of his personal quarters to his wardrobe. After changing into his olive green officer uniform, he quickly made a beeline for the Joint Operations Command Center to check out the commotion that actually required, of all people, Ben-motherfucking-Carville to call him up.

"Ah there you are, man of the hour", General Yong-sun snickered while sipping on his mug as he saw the Haihead general taking an empty seat next to him, "Did we disturb your wondrous dream about drowning yourself in the arms of a whole bunch of hot chicks?"

"I sure wish it was my dream, but unfortunately not. But I did see you sucking my big fat one", Hualong quipped, to which the Coronian general only sported a shit-eating grin on his face as a reply, then he tapped a button on the small holographic terminal in front of him to call for a drone to fetch a syncaf (synthetic coffee) over to help him combat the drowsiness, then turning his eyes toward the other members of the Foehn Council. Strangely, he could not find his adoptive sister, Yunru, standing behind either Rashidi or Siegfried as usual, but he just shrugged it off thinking she was probably either resting or doing her work, "So, let's hear what's this about, shall we?"

"Right, let's proceed with the emergency meeting", Siegfried nodded and glanced over to a relatively young-looking man standing near the round table, "Lieutenant Kulga?"

"Of course, Director Siegfried", the operation control adjutant to the Council nodded before moving to project a hologram of a live video feed in the middle of the room. A large display immediately appeared in the middle of the round table, and it was showing a squad of Foehn soldiers pointing their weapons at two large black silhouettes being illuminated by a Diverbee drone searchlight at roughly one hundred fifty meters away from their position.

"Exactly around fifteen minutes ago, our Hawkeyes picked up two thermal signatures resembling Epsilon brutes trying to approach our homebase", the Ukrainian adjutant pulled up another holographic display showing a single yellow line representing the past movements of the said signatures, which traced from near the edge of the inner Green Zone, raking around various other geographic obstacles until it finally arrived at the current position which stood 300 meters apart from the Foehn soldiers, "A platoon of Haihead soldiers in the nearest sector was dispatched alongside two Diverbee UCAVs to intercept and investigate these two unverified signals. However, it seemed that there was no gunfight despite the initial assumption. Upon scanning their report carefully, though, it is a bit concerning since they clearly stated the two to be, in their direct words, 'vaguely humanoid' and not resemble any form of Epsilon genetically engineered monsters that we might know of, and those two unknown beings were trying to communicate with us."

The display then zoomed in, allowing everyone to clearly see the figures of the two unknown contacts. Their standing postures were indeed human, they might even look like knights of some sort with their nicked, weathered grey plate armor suits, along with the silver-gleaming helmets which resembled some sort of horned-beast skulls and the massive halberds which they firmly held in low ready position. The rather questionable choice of armor design invoking occultism aside, the immense size of both the warriors, more akin to Epsilon brutes, as Kulga mentioned earlier, as they easily stood taller than a fully erected Knightframe battlesuit and the weapons were also of abnormal size which seemed oddly fitting for them, were also factors which greatly concerned the other council members - even Siegfried frowned at the sight, and that German mad scientist was infamous for sporting his near inhuman stoic expression almost all the time.

"I am not quite sure about this…" Admiral Albrecht was seemingly disturbed at the sight, "From their looks, I can probably tell that Satanic cultist fashion is likely to be a trend among their society or something. Hell, they might even be in the same cahoot with those Jesus thrice-damned demonic swarms we fought just yesterday."

"If it were the case, then these unknown folks wouldn't have bothered standing still right there", Director Jeremy disagreed with Albrecht's assessment, "They would just charge right into our soldiers at the first glance. Besides, Lieutenant Kulga said that those two tried to initiate… communication?" He glanced over at Kulga for a confirmation, to which the adjutant responded by nodding his head, "In any case, they tried to speak with our troops, that means they have the capacity to be rational and reasonable like any civilized human would. Or in other words, it means 'let us not fuck ourselves over this alien first contact scenario'. More friends are always better than more enemies, and whether these friends are worth it or not, we will find out later - we can only make do with what we have and know right now. I believe that my boys in the OSIS have been working on the translation of the audio the moment they reported back to me just earlier, and I think they should still be in progress right now. Lieutenant?"

"As you've said, Director Jeremy. Currently, it appears that their language is something akin to an amalgamation of roughly 12% Russian, 15% Bavarian German, 13% Arabic, and a completely unknown alien tongue for the rest, Director", the Ukrainian officer replied, "Due to the complexity of the language spoken and the lack of further input data, our linguist AIs can only work on the most rudimentary translation program at the moment."

"If the language package cannot be assembled in time, I guess we will have to make do with whatever we got then", the British gentleman frowned. After all, there could only be so much that their current technology could do, "Since our translation program is adaptive, we can also let our diplomats learn things on the fly then."

"Assuming that they are civilized - and what kind of civilized people wear skulls and horns as clothing?" The admiral remained unconvinced still, "For all we know, these aliens…" He paused for a moment, "...things might as well be tricking us out and find a chance to jump on our unsuspecting backs later. Them speaking with our troops, or was it more like them threatening our people in their language? And if anything, they already look a lot like deranged cultists. We don't have enough data to accurately assess this situation to be sure that they, and their civilization, would not seek to conflict with our own. If they are any bit as warlike as we are, then I am pretty sure there will be no way for peaceful contact."

"Admiral, sir, I'm pretty sure that according to a few parts that our AIs and the OSIS managed to decipher, they were really just trying to speak with our 'in-charge' of some sort", Kulga attempted to ease the rapidly deteriorating situation, but it seemed unlikely that Albrecht took the adjutant's words to heart, "Perhaps I can directly play it for your examination? Although I must caution you beforehand that the translation is incomplete."

"Yes, please do", the chairman of the council nodded, "We need more information in order to accurately judge our situation here, after all.".

Without a word, Lieutenant Kulga hovered his fingers over the projector's holographic control panel and flicked on a series of control settings.

"Noble /abariz/ /kwatz rachna/ tundra. We are the /jaq'e wiertigo/ Brotherhood. We /naqilah/ to your /khazan/."

"Good Lord in heaven, that is barely audible, much less intelligible", Albrecht groaned as the partially translated audio playback continue droning on before Kulga finally cut it out for the council to return to its session, "How are we supposed to even negotiate with them when we barely understand their tongue? That is not to say we still lack any sort of information or confirmation that could have helped us to determine these xenos true intentions."

"Look Albrecht, a first contact event, either with aliens or even our fellow humans, should we find other survivors that have yet to be brainwashed by the psychic devices of Epsilon had we still been back on Earth that is, will never give you full and accurate information for you to decide upon", Hualong jumped in, "We can only deal with situations as new information arrive. Even if they are as warlike as us like you said earlier, then they too should have some capacity for peaceful talk. Case in point: the Soviet Union and the PRC during the mid-phase of the Omega War - we hated the Russkie, and the Russkie hated us too, but we still went together over to Singapore to settle things down and stopped going at each other's throats."

"Assuming that we and they had any common enemy to do something similar in the first place, buddy", Ben countered, "Let us not delude ourselves, fellas. You talked about the Russkie and the Chinks, but you forgot to mention the Russkie and us Yankee. That fuck-face Romanov pulled a shit ton of diplomatic maneuvering and deceived us with a sense of false security only for him to drop everything he got on our heads before we could react. Given that neither we nor those xenos have any common foe, so I am inclined to believe that they will be immediately out for our blood as soon as we show our backs to them."

"That is just being overly paranoid, Ben", Hualong snorted, "We do not need to make enemies without any substantial amount of evidence to prove their hostile intention."

"But we are in a goddamn new world", the older American spat back, "You do realize that so far there is pretty much no - as in absolutely fucking zero - human out there aside from that little town south of us. And mind you, none of them go around trying to mimic the look of one of those abominations of nature we killed, while these two aliens clearly did."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen", Siegfried's ice-cold voice echoed across the command room, immediately putting a halt to the rising tension between the commander of the Home Guard Command and the Haihead Expeditionary Force before it could get out of hand, "Let's take a brief moment to think carefully, and rationally, before proceeding, oder? We are all grown adults here, let's not squabble among ourselves at such a critical time like a bunch of apes scratching their heads while offering no solution to the problem."

The war room atmosphere died down a bit as everyone took some time to reflect and formulate their logic for the next round of debate. Ben and Albrecht seemed to be discussing something among themselves, though Hualong could catch on to something about 'preemptive strike' and 'safeguarding our species' being exchanged between them. Yong-sun next to him seemed to be checking some of the data logs regarding the tracking of those unknown contacts in Coronia's recent records on his PDA, and so far had yet to express his own opinion. Director Siegfried and Rashidi both, on the other hand, seemed to just stare silently at the live video feed, ever carefully observing every detail of the alien warriors' gestures and body movements, not as a linguist trying to decipher a message, but as a scientist monitoring the behavioral patterns of test subjects.

The intelligence director and Hualong thought otherwise. They were in an alien land, with most possibly alien cultures and customs, so it would be foolish to make Foehn look like some sort of rogue state in this alien world political stage - should there be one, that was - when they were already as isolated as it could be just because of he and the other council members wrongly applying their Earthling preconceptions to this situation.

"Remember what we talked about yesterday, Ben", Jeremy spoke up again, "These people don't have guns. We might be outnumbered, but we are definitely not outgunned."

"You don't need guns to be qualified for executing systematic genocide, Director", the American general snarked back, "And since we just had to deal with a whole bunch of Mother Un-fucking-nature's supernatural fuckery, plus our database is classifying them as 'similar to Epsilon brutes' - Brutes! You of all people should remember those bastards can eat anything less than a barrage of 30mm autocannon for breakfa-"

"Old generation autocannon", Hualong corrected him, "I believe our new electrothermal-chemical autocannons should be more than sufficient. Besides, we have come a long way since the days when those mindless shacks of meat were something considered to be supersoldiers."

"Even then, they can rip an IFV apart with their bare hands and fucking cross 100 meters in just fucking 5 seconds!" Ben spat, "If they jump on our men during this so-called 'diplomatic talk', it will be blood on our hands for nothing gain!"

"It says brute-like bio-signatures, not that those two strangers are brutes themselves", the OSIS director groaned.

Ignoring the heated argument in front of him, Hualong tried wracking his brain to recall the details which had been gone into depth by Jeremy regarding the recon photos and video records of the village of its inhabitants during another of their meetings yesterday after fighting the horde. Aside from their strange animalistic traits such as animal ears, tails, and seldomly even furry limbs, they were, by all means, similar to Earthling humans to an uncanny degree. But thanks to such similarity that it was easier to gauge the power of these strangers that Foehn would soon have to get in contact with. From their clothes, the state of infrastructure, and especially the mining equipment inside the quarantined quarry on the outskirts of the town, Hualong and others at least could gauge that these inhabitants of this foreign land possessed a technological level equivalent to Western Europe somewhere in between the late 19th and the early years of the current 20th century. That being said, everyone was really surprised when they found that the only kind of firearm being commonly used was the flare gun, with every single armed individual there being equipped with cold steel such as sabers and polearms - similar to the ones being used by the alien knights right on the doorstep of Point Hope currently, albeit only being different in size - or modernized crossbows and bows.

Societal development, on the other hand, was a harder criterion to judge with just visual cues from afar alone. But overall, given the vibe and fashion of the beast-folks, especially in what Hualong remembered to be likely the flag of the country the town was in showing a double-headed aquila with a star on its heart, it was not that hard to make an educated guess that this might be a settlement under the control of a sovereign political entity which might resemble a weird mix of Imperial Russia and Stalinist Soviet. The parallel was only made stronger when he and others, much to their horror, found out that the mine was quarantined because it was a forced labor site, with the workers literally in balls and chains as they dragged their hollowed, bone-through-skin bodies to the darkness of the mineshaft, some even dropped dead from exhaustion along the way. When that happened, the black-cladding guards merely kicked the corpses out of the way and shoved the rest along before signaling for other laborers to remove the bodies of their compatriots.

It left a sore sting in Hualong's memories. After all, despite all the efforts that his surrogate parents tried to shelter, or to be more precise, deceive, him from the horrendous reality of the People's Republic of China under Mao Tse Tung and his successor the Gang of Four, it was impossible for anyone with at least half a brain to not see what was going on around them. Famine was the norm across the lands, with resources being drawn away from the already impoverished rural lands to fuel the ever-ludicrous demands of the barely-planned urban and industrial infrastructure development during the Great Leap Forward which made Stalin's industrialization efforts look tame in comparison. The subsequent Cultural Revolution along with a series of internal political purges from 79' to 82' only further worsened the stability of the nation - which had it not been for the 3rd Great World War and the Mental Omega War to inflame and unify nationalist sentiment, Communist China might as well be on the verge of collapse back into its Warlord Era.

Hualong chuckled inwardly at the hypocrite. What he did with the old 55th, breaking away from the PRC and a whole bunch of rogue actions to prepare for the Epsilon threat, he was no different from a petty warlord in his own rights.

It was then an answer came to his mind: so what if he acted like a warlord?

"I don't think it is in any way necessary for us to send our diplomat out there unarmed, Ben", the HEF commander said, leaning forward as he spoke, "There is always one more option, no? The deterrence via overwhelming threat of violence kind of option?"

"Good ol' Chinese gunboat foreign policy, ain't it", Yong-sun snickered, earning him a mock dirty look from the Haihead commander, "But true. I have yet to see any brute outsmarting a 40mm APFSDS flying at 5.5 km/s, even with those kinetic shields which the Epsilon mindless bastards have been rolling out en masse for a while now. Not even counting that we have yet to send in the tanks. Besides, as Jeremy said, they are brute-like, not brutes - the capacity for intelligible speech is the first step to a reasonable and civilized discussion, after all."

The Coronia commander finished his drink and then crushed the paper cup in his palm before tossing it into a nearby trash bin, "Ben, your assessment is correct in that there are immense dangers in the possibility of a surprise attack and that these two might be genuinely part of some demonic cult with real supernatural capabilities - as we all seen what even a bunch of mindless creatures in this world are capable of. However, I mean no offense, but I do think that you're a tad bit paranoid. Not just Jeremy's spooks, but even our regular grunts are taught to never fully trust any sort of battlefield impromptu negotiation for fear of undercover Epsilon mind-controlled agents, so jumping on our men during the talk will be nigh impossible; and even if they are indeed at least as strong as a brute, I don't think two 'brutes' potentially armed with magic power can do anything against this entire Point Hope, not unless each of them is equivalent to two and a half Libra - also fuck that bitch by the way."

Ben merely groaned in defeat, while the rest of the council exchanged looks with each other once more. The heavy silence impregnated the atmosphere of the war room still as everyone weighed their calculations for one last time, and finally, it was Siegfried who would break the stagnation.

"Absolute Gewalt, so ist es. Hualong, how many men can you afford for this? I thought you don't have any to spare after yesterday's fiasco."

"I can still count a handful of them that are not on active assignments right now", the Haihead commander wracked his brain for the head counting and assignment papers that he glimpsed through a couple of hours earlier, trying to recall if there was any free unit he could spare. "There is already one of my platoons out there already, so I only need to shore up with some extra combat robot units which I have in reserves", he glanced over at the pot-bellied American commander of the Home Guard with a mischievous grin, "So, how is it, Ben? You're in or not?"

"Fine", Ben grumbled reluctantly, "I will try to find one or two spare Mastodons and pull them over to the sector."

"My birds have already been noticed", Yong-sun tapped his personal PDA a few times, "The 114th Gunship Squadron will be on sortie shortly before our diplomats are oscar mike to secure the airspace."

"Albrecht, Jeremy, Rashidi", Siegfried turned his gaze over to the remaining three members of the council, "What are your votes, or objections?"

"Gunboat diplomacy is not really my favorite, but at least it is better than just outright blasting stuff", Jeremy leaned forward with his fingers intertwined, "I agree with the plan."

"Since it's already over the majority, I guess there is not much else I can do about it, no?" Rashidi merely shrugged, "Though it is not like I'm too keen on further bloodshed either, not when it can prove to be a good chance to expand our understanding of this alien world later on."

"Fine then", Albrecht sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumped slightly forward in dejection, "I will be ordering those ships which have yet to be towed back to base for redeployment to be on standby for bombardier duty."

"Wunderbar", Siegfried nodded slightly, his attention returned to the live video feed of the confrontation between their soldiers and the two unknown intruders, "VOLKNET, how is the progress with the translator program?"

++ The translation package has already been completed and uploaded to our linguistic archive. However, do note that due to the shortage of input data and a large number of unknown factors regarding the language being spoken by these two unknown contacts, it is recommended that the diplomats do not rely too much on their technological devices alone. ++

"Tell me something I don't know, tin-can", Director Jeremy chortled, "I taught those kids to be better than just going around like dumbasses given random cool toys."

"Well then, we are ready to go", the German scientist said, "If dort is nothing else any of you gentlemen would like to add, then with my authority as the acting chairman, this meeting is now adjourned."

'In the end, the most persuasive words still grow out from the front end of a gun barrel', Hualong mulled internally as he followed the others out of the Joint Operations Command Center. While he was the one to make that suggestion, it was not like the general himself was totally happy with it. Paradoxically as it was, he somewhat disliked the lack of sophistication and elegance in the more outwardly coercive strategies in diplomacy. But given the risks and uncertainties involved, it was better to walk softly and carry a big stick, after all.


05:27 AM, 14 kilometers outside of Point Hope's outer perimeter.

"Dreamer-1, dropping off in 45 secs."

The vehicle commander's voice boomed inside the cramped passenger back of the Gharial IFV which Agent Harris McCartney had been riding on for the last nine or ten minutes. The green-eyed American sighed inwardly and noted down mentally all the important details from his mission briefing before stowing his datapad away and preparing himself to brace the unknown. He was an OSIS diplomatic agent trained to establish contact with anti-Epsilon survivors for Foehn - essentially, other humans like himself, albeit not yet brainwashed by the Antarctica Tower - so the prospect of being sent to initiate first contact with a completely different species in an equally alien land was something felt a little too overwhelming even for him.

"Excited buddy?" His colleague and the chief security detail for him during the current mission, Corporal Elias Fehrenbach of the HEF, called out to him with his mildly accented voice, "We are about to meet some aliens, after all."

"Hardly", Harris shook his head, "It's just that we are simply not trained for aliens."

"Men will always fear what they do not know", the German agent nodded sagely, "Though sometimes they still carry on such notion and prejudice even after the unknowns were made known. But I'd rather brave the uncharted water with an adventurous spirit rather than confine myself to a self-imprisonment."

"What having your arse frozen by Alaska snow for eight years does to a bloody kraut wanker", the Englishman merely snorted in reply to German's dramatic speech, "At least those back home, both the survivors and the thrice-damned Epsi' mindless cocksuckers, carry with them some vestige of being homo sapiens. There is none in this new world - the only thing we know so far is how utterly filled to the brim with hostile 'eldritch creatures' and paranormal bullshits this godforsaken tundra is."

"True", Elias chuckled and gave a reassuring pat on his friend's back, "Though try to keep an open mind, yeah? 'More friends, fewer enemies', as the good old adage goes."

"Tell me something I don't know, mate. But that doesn't mean I won't hold any skepticism regarding Jeremy's directives."

"Here we go, gentlemen", their headsets crackled with the Gharial's commander's low-pitched voice again, "I'm seeing no suspicious activities within horizontal distance, and neither is my gunner. EO/MS and ADAR are only registering our own dispatched platoons and the two 'tangos' - though you two gents still keep your eyes peeled just in case."

"Copy that Dreamer-1. Pigeon Team is disembarking now", Elias promptly pushed the communication set around his neck guard for a quick reply, "Let's get on with it then. Wait for my signal, all right?"

"Aight, that I can do", Harris grumbled, not wanting to get out from the well-regulated comfort of the IFV interior to brave the frigid arctic winds blasting through his face just yet.

Elias tapped on his arm-mounted PDA, initializing the synchronization process of a piece of his own consciousness with a part of the security team - the so far dormant four MK-5 combat robots that had been sitting in total silence just opposite him and Harris. With a mere motion of thought, the four slumbering Tyrannicides roused from their hibernation mode, dim red and green spots of light could be seen blinking through the transparent bullet-resistant glass domes that were their robotic 'eyes' as their systems went through a brief cycle of program refreshing that barely lasted half a millisecond before the LED died off and the combat robots were ready for action. The cold killing machines then quickly filed outside the cramped Gharial on the lowered rampart with disturbingly graceful motions, moving to quickly join up with another four of their metallic kins which were also under the command of Elias, albeit were put on another Gharial sat not too far on their current ride to the left. Having studied the local topography and friendly force deployment beforehand via aerial surveillance, the German AI specialist judged that considering the aliens had already been surrounded at the front and flanks, he simply needed to move his drones to reinforce the already established fighting positions on the elevated ridges. There was no need to box the strangers in - after all there were zero covers anywhere near them and the Foehn was not there to kill anyone.

Yet.

The corporal finally took a glance at the sky via his proxy consciousness in one of the droids, visually confirming that there was a pair of AH-85 Buzzard VTOL gunships already orbiting around based on the barely visible glowing patches of orange from their turbofan engines against the dark starry sky. Only once everything was in place did Elias finally tap on the OSIS agent's shoulder lightly, mouthing a silent 'you're up'.

And that was all necessary. Harris clenched his jaw, drew a deep breath, and braced himself against the blasting cold of the Arctic - or whatever frozen hellscape that Point Hope had been transplanted into - as he hunched through the lowered back ramp. The agent stared at twin dark silhouettes in the distance contrasted against the white snow background from the circling drone searchlights for a brief moment, before killing whatever left of his hesitation and taking that leap of faith. Harris pulled the cords on his winter coat to tighten the neck gaiter to keep the cold from making his throat tremble, then he slowly, but steadily, took cautious steps toward the two giant knights with horned skull helmets; he could feel the gaze of the other Haihead soldiers bored into his back as he walked past the charred craters from the earlier artillery stonk which was yet to be filled up by the falling snow that they were using as impromptu covers.

As he drew closer to the alien duo, a sense of unnatural dread slowly bubbled into Harris's subconsciousness. It was as if he was facing down two very real evil made manifested; the dull scratches scattered across their dark grey cuirasses, the dried bloodstains on the edges of their massive halberds, and the countless of what appeared to be beastly body parts such as claws other grotesque trinkets hung around their leather-like belts as war-spoils seemed to convey something intrinsically barbaric. Yet Harris at the same time could not help but notice other more subtle signs, such as their relaxed postures with their arms slightly extended, and in doing so shifted their great weapons away from the optimal pivot points for full-power swings. Perhaps these aliens did not consider the other side as a threat, or they tried to put up a display of civility and peace - and Harris hoped it was the latter instead of the former arrogance.

Thirty meters, Harris mulled underneath his breath and stopped in his tracks. He wetted his throat slightly with a small gulp of saliva, pulsing his Adam's apple to ensure that the translator module was fitted snugly around his neck. He would hate to be the one to start a pointless first-contact war over some unnecessary misunderstanding - that and the fact that he was unarmed, with zero armor. Should the talk break down, it would be him to be the first casualty, though it was a risk they had to accept to balance between the antagonistic natures of the deterrence which were the soldiers, combat droids, tanks, heavy gunships, and a harmless, peaceful appearance for the sake of diplomacy.

"Salute!" He raised his right hand, his palm intentionally left open, and faced forward to the strangers while keeping his left arm as relaxed as possible. "I am Harris McCartney", the agent thumbed on his chest where his heart was with his free left hand, "The appointed representative of the Foehn Revolution Front to conduct this talking. May I ask who you are that I am addressing?"

There was a brief silence as the two horned knights turned toward each other, seemingly whispering something in their alien tongues. Though before long, both of them returned their attention to the agent, and much to his surprise, both began to remove their helmets at the same time, revealing a shockingly human face underneath. To Harris, they looked no different than any typical scarred veteran in Point Hope - except that their animalistic antlers were still in place, though the reasons as to 'how' remained elusive to the common senses of biology. The next thing he knew, one of the warriors stepped forward three paces, before switching his halberd from the right hand to his left, then placed his open right palm over the metal breastplate where any human heart would be.

"Saluti Hae'rik Mak-karn'ai", the grey-haired warrior boomed, his deep voice triumphed over even the howling icy gales, "My aredti is Raskota'skay, erho of the gharat'ai mahotep. This is my erkhik, Sabatat'lyan. We come, with no malice, and no siktanik." A brief pause, then the old warrior began to make a circling motion with his free hand, "Come, let us barzhest!"

Harris was barely able to understand the strange words spoken by the man, with many even outright unrecognizable by the instant translator and had to be forwarded back to the VOLKNET mainframe in order to be analyzed in depth by the more powerful linguist AIs back there. But what he did comprehend was more than enough to infer the content of the message, and coupled with observing the non-threatening body gestures of the so-called brute-like humans, Harris decided to gamble with the unknown. Despite their tongue being drastically different, and perhaps so were their customs, and the heavy occultism outward appearances as seen by the savage decorum of dissected animal parts and the unusually demon-like helmets - or perhaps it was an attempt at camouflage, Harris could only guess - if they at the very least looked like a fellow homo sapien and were putting on non-aggressive behavior in reciprocating of the Foehn's own attempt, then it was at least somewhat assuring to know the chance of being killed out of the blue and guns started to blaze everywhere had been drastically reduced.

At least he hoped so. All that he could do in any meaningful capacity was to pray to whatever holy beings out there for his luck and the reactiveness of the other Foehn soldiers watching after him if it had to come down to it, and once more took his steps closer to them and into the uncertainties.

'Here goes nothing.'


[ACCESSING ARMAMENT PROTOCOL…]

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[ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME BACK COMMANDER]

Electromagnetic Acceleration Technology

Advancements in material science, power generation, and capacitor designs thanks to nanotechnology have allowed for the electromagnetic acceleration field to become a reality for Foehn scientists and military engineers. They usually come in three flavors:

Railgun: The most basic form of them all, and the easiest to construct. The railgun, as its name implies, consists of two parallel conducting rails which take advantage of Lorentz force when a current is flowing through the armature. Militarily, solid-state projectile railgun was only used to demonstrate the capabilities of electromagnetic-accelerated kinetic weapons and was never further developed due to reliability issues. The focus was instead shifted to plasma railgun and coilgun projects.

Plasma railgun: This is singlehandedly the most destructive gun-type weapon design of Foehn scientists. The plasma railguns use two parallel accelerator rails similar to normal railguns, but they fire plasmoid projectiles instead of solid slugs. The plasmoid projectiles are fired out of the barrel at least 1% to 3% the speed of light, so fast that it almost looks like a particle beam. The kinetic energy imparted upon impact is also so devastating that it will penetrate through almost any armored vehicle fielded during the previous wars except for the largest and most armored ones such as the Paradox Engines or the infamous Epsilon Irkalla Aerial Fortress. In addition to armor piercing, plasma railguns also inflict highly lethal post-penetration effects such as superheated spalling and EMP-like blasts that will cook any organic being inside the unfortunate targets and fry all non-protected electronic systems, respectively. to deal with plasma diffusion, Foehn engineers and scientists had developed myriads of magnetic confinement derived from reverse-engineered Epsilon technology and their own aerokinesis technologies In order to keep the projectile structure cohesive as it travels downrange and prevents the external environment from interacting with the projectiles - thus, a plasma railguns can have an effective range upward to 20 km assuming unobstructed line-of-sight, limited only by the weakening containment field of the plasmoid over time which eventually resulted in the projectile 'sizzles' out harmlessly. Plasma railguns also have the least stress imposed on their barrels when firing, thus making them more suitable to be used as weapons since most plasma railguns can last for about 30,000 shots before having to be replaced.

Coilgun: Also commonly known as Gauss gun. This technology is brought about through a series of technological exchanges between the FRF and the Luna Soviets, with Foehn providing technical specs and advanced material science knowledge to the Soviets, while the Reds refined and tested the new design based on their previous Tesla weapons. Instead of the previous two designs both using parallel rails, the coilgun, as said on the tin, uses a series of coils aligned along the smoothbore barrel which will turn on and off at the precise moment in time to propel the projectiles out of the barrels at hypervelocity (typically exceeding 5 km/s). Unlike solid-projectile railgun designs, coilguns are typically less stressful on the barrel, have a higher muzzle velocity, and have higher reliability in all conditions as well. However, they suffer from miniaturization problems as it is very complex and expensive to make infantry-sized coilgun-style weapons, which limits the use of automatic Gauss rifles and small-bore Gauss autocannons only to elite special forces operatives and specialized vehicles. On the other hand, anything equal to or larger than 35mm in caliber will most likely be of HCEMA (hybrid chemical electromagnetic acceleration) design, which uses ETC-specific propellant like normal ETC firearms to provide an initial boost, then the coils will further accelerate the projectile downrange at hypersonic speed. The chemical propellant not only lessens the energy need of the accelerator but also provides a reliable backup even if the coil accelerator is disabled.

While the kinetic impact of coilgun projectiles is generally more effective compared to the impact of a plasma railgun of equal power output, plasma railgun is heavily favored as the Foehn Armed Forces premier heavy cannon for its relativistic muzzle velocity - which ensures that no amount of evasion can help the unfortunate Epsilon bastards on the business end of a plasma railgun escape the union between their fleshy bodies and a plasma bolt capable of vaporizing even tank armor into a gaseous state- as well as the significantly less stressful wear and tear on the gun barrel despite the very high energy output compared to a coilgun or railgun of similar power. Using the T-84 Bison tank gun, the L-55 Pacifier 120mm gun, and its primary anti-armor piercing projectile that weighs around 6.3kg as the standard specification, the Bison HCEMA cannon needs to achieve at least 12 km/s to have the same energy output as a Mastodon plasma railgun (which can pack a powerful shot equivalent to 104 kg of TNT) - but Foehn current fastest practical coilgun in their arsenal is still limited a maximum muzzle velocity of around 8 km/s due to various reasons in both the material properties and power consumption of the weapons. Even most armored vehicles which are not a tank equipped with HCEMA guns and autocannons tend to fire at a much lower velocity (typically between 5.5 to 6 km/s) to lessen the amount of energy required as they do not have onboard power plants as powerful as those of the heavier main battle tanks.

Aside from being used as a weapon, electromagnetic acceleration research is also utilized by Foehn engineers to build electromagnetic catapults called EMACS installed along aircraft runways. While most Foehn aircraft can perform VTOL even at maximum payload, heavy cargo aircraft still require long runways to takeoff (for landing they have a special short-landing assist system), with the exception being the AAV-3 Pteranodon due to the latter powerful nuclear-powered engines. With the help of EMACS, even their biggest cargo airplanes at maximum payload can be launched into the air with a runway as short as 440 meters; and in doing so, they do not have to spend what little land area they have available for a big airfield, allowing for more room for other infrastructure developments. An even bigger version of the EMACS is also being developed and finalized to launch a massive amount of mass into space, which the Foehn Council hopes will serve as the gateway to Luna Soviet for better capacity to exchange materials, manpower, and technologies in the fight against Epsilon.

MK-5 Tyrannicide Autonomous Combat Robot

Classification: Humanoid combat robots.

Description: Due to the severe shortage of manpower which they can draw upon, Foehn military thinkers had to supplement their organic soldiers with a lot of robotic hardware - and more often than not, entire units were made up of robotic soldiers. The MK-5 is one of the more special designs as unlike most other drones which are intended to be used as fire support vehicles or other roles, the Tyrannicide is meant to act like a standard rifleman and fulfill the roles that only an infantry grunt can do. And given the fact that they will be operating in areas with high-intensity psy-field, having humanoid and human-size combat robots which are completely immune to battlefield hazards will prove to be extremely beneficial for the FRF combat units in the long term.

Due to having no need to accommodate the constraints of biological bodies, Tyrannicide combat robots are far superior to any standard infantryman not just in terms of information processing speed thanks to their advanced computer chips and combat-oriented AI, but they are also much faster and stronger than even an exosuit-enhanced organic soldier due to having more mechanical bundles to drive their movements by at least a few orders of magnitude. Despite the robot's individual combat prowess, however, they lack tactical and strategic sophistication beyond some intermediate-level small unit tactics unless put under the command of a dedicated handler unit just like most other low-level mass-produced autonomous combat machines in the Foehn arsenal. The extra space which might have been space for human important organs had they been organic beings also allows for larger battery banks and even a small hydrogen-based fuel cell generator, granting these robots the ability to operate far longer than any organic soldiers even in armored exoskeletons. Furthermore, they can fit small repair kits alongside a reservoir containing a small amount of non-replicating nanites inside their body frames, allowing these robots to perform maintenance on themselves using whatever readily available materials they can scavenge for, permitting them to operate without human servicing up to 2 or 3 months. These features are especially useful considering that Foehn's first major intended strategic areas are the barren tundras of Northern Canada and the radioactive wastelands of Russia's Far East where the environments might prove to be too hostile to organic humans outside of protective vehicles and the distances involved are too long.

For electronics, the MK-5 is usually equipped with an array of conventional multispectral sensors, as well as the more exotic anti-stealth ADAR (Aerokinesis Detection And Ranging). Depending on the model, some MK-5 units can swap out some of the long-range combat sensors and fire control system for extra ECW (Electronic-Cyber Warfare) suite and additional anti-stealth sensors to provide electronic, counter-electronic and cloak-piercing tasks for their given tactical area of operation, along with providing jamming-resistant communications. Further dedicated AI command-n-control modules can also be installed to turn an MK-5 robot into a 'handler' which can drastically improve the combat performance of the handler's subordinated robots via means of drastically enhanced tactical flexibility and adaptability.

The MK-5 Tyrannicide, like their organic counterparts, can wield a large variety of weapons depending on the mission requirements, with the CQB-oriented weapon program being swapped out in favor of a more generalized weapon imprint. In their most standard role as a rifleman, the robots can be armed just like any normal organic infantryman with the M-63 ETC assault rifles, Chernaux machine guns, etc... Other models might take advantage of their superhuman strength and speed to be armed with CQB-oriented armaments similar to the MK-4B1 Megalodon such as high-frequency polymolecular blades and automatic carbines/shotguns to mow down enemy infantry in the literal blink of an eye before they can even draw their guns for use in urban warfare. Some might only be lightly armed with PDWs, and are programmed to be combat engineers or crews for some special vehicles instead of serving on the frontline.

M-9A1 Gharial Infantry Fighting Vehicle

Classification: Amphibious infantry fighting vehicle.

Description: The M-9A1 Gharial IFV is a tracked vehicle designed to be the pinnacle of armored fighting vehicles using all of Foehn's available cutting-edge technology. At 33 metric tons, the Gharial is decently mobile with a cruise speed of 108 km/h cross-country as well as amphibious since the vehicle can swim 24 km/h across bodies of water. Not only fast, but the M-9A1 is also the most well-protected IFV which had entered service ever since the last Mental Omega War, with its armor boasting all-round protection against up to APFSDS rounds fired from a 25mm ETC autocannon round at zero meters, with its roof armor capable of withstanding a direct blast of Soviet Russian 152mm HE-FRAG shells. As an emphasis on 'quality over quantity', further countermeasures such as smoke launchers, Charlemagne APS, and full CBRNP systems are also installed to protect the crews and passengers from threats of guided/unguided missiles and chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear, and paranormal (in the form of Epsilon psychics) hazards. The vehicle can also be up-armored with NERA modules, albeit at the cost of weight and mobility.

The Gharial IFV commonly uses an autonomous AI for driving and armament management with one organic vehicle commander, although in some cases the manual drive mode can be used as well if necessary and allows the vehicle to be crewed by three men/women: a gunner, a driver, and a commander; the vice versa is also true, as many new Gharials can, and more often than not usually do have special AI control modules to fully replace the human crews to compensate for Point Hope chronic manpower shortage. Thanks to its highly automated nature, the Gharial IFV has room for up to 7 armored exoskeleton-equipped Foehn soldiers along with their combat gears to ride inside, though a more common layout will be 4 or 5 soldiers and a squad support drone. The latter is more favored in the Foehn military since they are not only bringing two IFVs for every mechanized infantry squad, but they are also not putting all eggs in one basket, in case an IFV is taken out of action.

The main armament of the M-9A1 is a single powerful 40mm-caliber K-40 HCEMA chain gun (300 rounds) with a decent firing rate of 270 rounds per minute, and two multi-purpose missile launcher quad-cells, bringing a total of eight missiles which the crews can freely pick for their mission requirements. Secondary armaments include a coaxial Chernaux GPMG for close-quarter engagement with lightly armored infantry. With such a heavy weapon loadout on hand, the Gharial IFVs can make short work of any infantry, static light fortifications, light armor vehicles, and even heavy armor units if engaged from the side and rear.

Aside from the usual configuration, specialized variants also exist, such as the M-9G1 Alligator IFSV (Indirect Fire Support Vehicle), which replaced the 40mm autocannon turret and maybe the missile launchers as well with various artillery weapons from 60mm to 120mm mortars or rocket artillery pods and the passenger cabin for ammunition storage. Then there is the M-9G2 Super Gharial HFSV (Heavy Fire Support Vehicle) which is equipped with a far more powerful engine so it can carry either a K-50EX 50mm HCEMA autocannon turret for both anti-air and anti-ground purposes, or an L-52 Lancier 105mm HCEMA gun for the dedicated anti-armor role. One special variant of the Gharial is the M-9U3 SHTV (special heavy transport vehicle) that removes all passenger seats and replaces the original 40mm ETC autocannon turret with a much smaller 15mm K-15 HMG turret alongside a coaxial Chernaux GPMG to make space to store a single hunker-down battlesuit, be it Knightframe or Giantsbane, along with the suit weapon and ammunition. The vehicle's rear is also redesigned slightly to allow the instant deployment of the battlesuit inside upon contact with the enemies.

The Gharial is equipped with numerous arrays of advanced sighting systems, including conventional EO/MS (Electro-Optical, Multispectral) and the more exotic anti-stealth ADAR sensor, capable of detecting the otherwise visually and thermally invisible Epsilon hostile units out to a maximum range of 800 meters. Against non-stealth targets, this IFV can reliably track and engage multiple point targets as far away as 5,000 meters even while on the move. Advanced gun stabilizer and fire control system, coupled with a much faster turret traverse rate than a tank as well as a gun elevation between +73 to -12 degrees mean most Gharials can also consistently engage low-flying aircraft and enemies on high grounds, allowing them to be an extremely effective support for both armored and infantry units during combat operations in urban and mountain environments.

AH-85 Buzzard VTOL Gunship

Classification: Powered lift heavy gunship.

Description: The AH-85 is a heavily armed and armored VTOL aircraft designed to replace the aging AH-64 Apache helicopters which had been in service of the United States ever since the late 1950s, and later inherited by the Foehn Revolution Front when the Confederation Treaty was ratified, resulting in the integration of Western remnant forces and their 'allied' renegade PLA troops of General Hualong's original 55th Mountaineer Division into one unified command structure and organization standard. While the official designation of the AH-85 is 'powered lift aircraft', the roles that this new aircraft takes on are similar to the old helicopters, and thus people still informally refer to the AH-85 as helicopters or any other associative term. Instead of a conventional open-rotor on helicopter design, the AH-85 opts for two ducted tiltrotor nacelles, each composed of a pair of counter-rotating rotors, to provide for greater lift than any of the previous generation of helicopters. Its tail is also designed with a V-shape for minimal drag, and when combined with further trademark aerokinesis technology of the FRF, it is capable of holding up to a maximum of 7,570kg worth of armaments and fuel. The AH-85 is a two-seat gunship with a side-by-side seat arrangement, unlike the Apache tandem design to improve the situational awareness and networking between both pilots. While this reduces the aerodynamic of the Buzzard, the more powerful engines and aerokinesis technology incorporated into the airframe can compensate for such loss, resulting in a significant net improvement over the Apache still in terms of maneuverability and speed, although the caveat is that the Buzzard is only about 90% as efficient as the Apache in static hovering mode. The AH-85 has a cruise speed of around 220 km/h, and a combat radius of 620 km; and like most other Foehn war vehicles, the Buzzard gunship can be either manned or controlled by a dedicated AI pilot module.

Being a ground support gunship meant to get up close and personal with the enemy, the Buzzard gunship is armored with advanced lightweight armor capable of withstanding even against the older generation of 20mm APFSDS and HEI, including the more exposed external sensor pods, while the cockpit, rotor blades and some other critical components capable of withstanding even a few bursts from non-ETC 25mm APFSDS or HEI at point-blank range; the formidable armor protection, plus its thicker width compared to the Apache resulted in its ground crews and pilots often called it 'Joe Mama'. The AH-85 is also given radiation absorbent coating and thermo-adaptive micro-panels, drastically reducing both its radar and thermal signature; additional flares, chaffs and an onboard electronic warfare suite also lessen the aircraft's chance of being targeted by enemy air defense. For offensive purposes, it is armed with a chin-mounted electrothermal-chemical, 30mm-caliber K-30 autocannon with a firing rate of 700 rounds per minute and 1,450 rounds; there are further six hardpoints on the AH-85 stubby wings to mount all sorts of heavier weaponry such as HPGR-70 70mm rocket pods, MPGM-10 multipurpose missiles or anything that can fit the size and weight constraints of the Buzzard. Some can even carry special aerial mine dispensers which can scatter a huge number of both lethal and non-lethal stun mines over a wide area. There exist some specialized variants, like the Home Guard-specific variant AH-85G Condor, which can be equipped with an even more powerful onboard power plant to allow the aircraft to carry Jupiter-6 AL2A (Anti Light Armor, Aircraft) laser cannon; usually at the expense of their range, speed, armor or any other functionality.