A/N: The C&C franchise has been largely abandoned, but the fans are keeping it alive.
Berlin
Germany
2023
10:05am, local clock
" Guten morgen, mein herr.. ( Good morning, sir ) !, greeted the young private working security at the checkpoint, accompanying it with a crisp salute. Having spotted the steel German flag strip affixed to the chest of the officer approaching her, she courteously opted to switch to their shared language.
Baby faced and sapphire-eyed, she looked to have barely cleared her collage years- or maybe had skipped them overall to let the military give her some extra growth as a adult ( and, fund her possible later schooling ). Aesthetics ( pleasing though they might be ) aside, her posture was impeccable, and without even coming off as forced or stiff. Coupled with a perfectly ironed and kept uniform- the service one, with the olive-green slacks, matching beret that bore the cobalt and gold globe symbol of the EUAF ( European Union Armed Forces ), and the short sleeves button-down blouse-, it was a near-recruitment-level perfect image of military discipline , and one that Dalkof certainly approved of. Few things irked him more than the sight of a soldier who's career clearly had a long way to go allowing their bearing to slip...even briefly.
And speaking of bearing, he didn't neglect his own, making a point of returning the gesture as he came to a stop, with his polished-to-a-diamond-glitter dark shoes barely emitting any noise against the speckled ( silver and red ) granite floor tiles of the hulking, towering EUAF Global HQ building.
" Wie geht es ihnen ( How are you doing ), Private ? ", the multi-star officer asked. As accustomed as he was to communicating with English, and though he actually liked doing so, he was still pleased that the Germanic tongue hadn't been dented by all the multiculturalism dominating Europe these days.
By habit, he noted the Private's name: Velburg, written with gold lettering on the right-hand chest side.
Always track the ones who show promise
...They might need a friend from a high place someday. The more good eggs we can help climb to the top, the better..
Multitasking with such mentoring thoughts ( a skill that'd been among the first his own mentors had been teach to ensure he learned, way back when ), he proceeded to do as he'd done on every other trip to this place over the years, which were more numerous than he could count. Reaching a hand though a uniform pocket, he retrieved his personal data chip, and presented it to the guard for the routine scan that all officers, even ones at the very top such as himself, were subject to. On its face, such a thing might seem like it'd ruffle feathers, but any EUAF officer worth his or her salt would understand the necessity.
Security, and vigilance. Without them, you were begging on your knees for some terrorist madman ( and contrary to what many bizarrely believed, one man's terrorist was usually the next man's terrorist as well ) to strike right where the most damage could be done.
Owing to that, a fingerprint scan was next , which only needed a few seconds to complete- even less than the scan. With it done, though, the screening was complete.
Just another step on any EUAF officer's daily routine if visiting the GHQ was on the docket for the day, after all...
"...Alles erledigit , sir. Wilkommen zuruck bei GHQ ( All done, sir. Welcome back to the GHC ) ! "
With a polite nod from the Private, and the return of the data card, the entry process was concluded. Old hat by now, but then again...what was military life without routine ?
Something else, entirely. Routines were there for a reason, anyway...
" Machen sie weiter, soldat ( Carry on, soldier ) ", he told her, by way of a goodbye. It might be a rather mundane task , pulling sentry/checking duty at a location as high security as EUAF-HQ, with its own dedicated Armored Battalion, 20 ft. tall steel-plated walls that surrounded the whole perimeter who's top was wired with security cams, surface to air missile batteries placed around the grounds, and even a SatLink to one of the EUAF's Orbital Laser Platforms ( OLPs ), but as the ancient saying went : " Those who wait and watch still serve. "
Everyone had their place...and even then...you could always chase a new path.
But...duty called, and any potential career advancement would have to wait.
Dalkof thusly carried on his way, walking with purposeful strides through the generously-sized atrium, which was deliberately designed so that if the HQ ever came under attack ( as improbable as that would be ), any attacking force would have to fight their way though the multiple staircases that all led to each of the higher floors...all while coming under fire from defenders taking cover behind the bulletproof retaining walls that ran around each one. It was standard practice for any EUAF facility, and one that the Italians had to get credit for pushing for- and given how they'd designed some of the most resilient castles and bastions from the age of sword and shield, it was only logical.
Fortunrely, Dalkof was the polar opposite of an enemy. He was a high ranking EUAF officer, en route to a strategy meeting that had ramifications that would affect the whole of the EUAF- both militarily, and socially. The weight of which, and something that only he and a handful of others knew all the details of of, hung heavily on this gold-embroidered shoulders, even as expertly climate-controlled air swished around him from the nearest set of vents.
Specifically, the ones at the base of the floor deck he was ascending past on the stairs-and a few moments later, he's reached it. It was Floor 4, nearly at the top, and one that gave a great view of the gaping atrium space below. From this height, and with the plethora of palm plants and other greenery that'd been planted here, it gave the illusion that you'd arrived at some sort of tropical biome, like that of the Congo, or perhaps Suriname.
How fitting, as well, that it emulated such places. Africa was, after all, on the front of the current issue that'd even brought him here at all.
The deeper he went, and the more he moved through the depths of the facility, leaving the atrium behind and now entering the network of wide corridors and police-style bullpens that comprised the 4th, the more his head began going that way: Africa, and the business surrounding it. It'd always been close by, near the front of his mind, from as soon as it'd become something that the EUAF needed to concern itself with, and despite the ever-present pleasantness of the entrance area's natural beauty...he hadn't allowed the ongoing issues south of the Sahara to slip much from his daily thoughts.
Couldn't afford to, anyway what with how much was at stake, and how he was among those who were responsible for deciding how the EUAF would respond...
" Ah, General Dalkof. Welcome. The Council is complete now, at last..."
A lyrical , slightly singsong female voice spoke those words, as the last of the EUAF High Strategic Council ( HSC ) entered the oval-shaped meeting and planning room.
Then again, of course the voice would sound like that- General Joanna Hulvani was Spanish, after all. It was an automatically dramatic language , anyway, but that wasn't always a bad thing. If nothing else , you couldn't really ignore them even if you wanted to.
Much the same as South African, or US Southern...
" Well, nearly, at least. We're still waiting on General Barrowsmith ", the squad, round faced woman continued, as Dalkof and his entourage finished entering the room.
" Understood. ", acknowledged Dalkof with a nod, as he removed his beret and carefully folded it to fit beneath one of his uniform should button-down straps-another skill that'd required many hours weekly practice during his academy days to develop, and regular diligence ever after to stay that way. " As long as he isn't late. "
" Hmph. How German of you ", bemusedly grunted fellow Council member General Jean-Marie Gave, another member of the Council , from where he was seated across the doors. Tall, broad shouldered, and grey-bearded, the Frenchman was seated with his chair leaned slightly back, as if he owned the building. His own beret was off as well, but as per usual, he hadn't properly tucked it beneath his own uniform shoulder strap. " Always worried about the clock "
...Unprofessional, Jean..
That, and you just flaunt how you're exploiting your rank to get away with uniform discrepancies...
I swear, he does both of those on purpose, an annoyed Dalkof reminded himself, as he took his own seat- which was thankfully offset from the deliberately provoking Gavel. If it wasn't for how proficient his Recon Battalions are...
Outwardly, though, he didn't bother giving the other man the satisfaction of a reaction. That couldn't be allowed to happen, so rather than do so, he went for a businesslike ( though, still decisive) " As soon as he arrives , when that is, planning can then begin on how to respond to southern Algeria's recent spike of GLA activity. "
Right on the heels of that statement, he deftly reached out, and drank from the glass of chilled coffee that the briefing room staff, finding a fresh surge of satisfaction that he knew came as much from the rich, hickory flavor of the java as much as it did from focusing on the matters at hand. It was what they were all here for, after all.
Even, whether he wanted to admit it or not, that Frenchman over there.
" ...Oui ( Yes ). There is much to discuss on that front ", he finally declared.
...That wasn't so hard, was it ?
...You have your moments. God alone knows why the ratio is so screwed...
Having refrained from saying anything during the brief exchange ( wisely, frankly ), Halvani now spoke again. " That reminds me: We will need to hear from your advance teams, Jean, as the first order of business..."
A momentary pause ensued, as she glanced down to check her personal datapad ( dutifully handed over to her by one of her own aides right at that moment )...and that was when the doors opened once more.
And, less than half a second later, it became extremely clear who was there...
" Ladies and Gentlemen...I trust you waited for me ? ", boomed a richly strong Scottish accent.
Dalkof didn't even need to pivot his head around to know who it was- but owing to basic courtesy, he did anyway.
A lantern jawed, sharply-cheek boned man with copper-colored hair shaved especially low had just made his entrance. There was only one redhead on the council , man or woman, and that lone was a dead giveaway as to who this loud Celtic gentleman was.
There was a reason why Gave's unit was the one that prioritized stealth and recon, among others...
" No need to answer that; you did. Excellent..."
" ...Right on schedule, Charles ".
Putting a hand out and behind him, Dalkof sharply gestured for one of this own aides to hand him his Datapad, as the Scottish officer power-walked around the back of him, be fore sitting on his right. Unlike Gavel, he at least had the neatness of dress to properly tuck his beret where it belonged.
...Suppose there's always going to have some anomalies. Most officers keep to the standards, and even that Gavel. But, he just keeps slipping on a few things..
Well, that aside...let's finally buckle down, shall we ?
Evidently, the Scotsman must've shared the same mentality, for after also taking advantage of the provided coffee, , and having his personal pad hand-delivered to him, he made a point of loosening his neck cricks with a casual rotation, before saying aloud, " Alright then. As our Yank friends would say: ' Let's get this ball rolling. "
Could specify which ball, friend ? Our version of football, or theirs ?
Details. Details...
...Ugh...
...Anyway...enough stalling and waffling. We've got things that need taking care of, and every second counts.
Like he said...let's get it rolling.
Exhaling shallowly, Dalkof gently cast his pad on the table , cleared his throat , and promptly then addressed the room as a whole: " Agreed..."
" Agreed 100 percent on that. Speaking of which..."
He tipped his head toward Halvani. " We'd already decided- at her suggestion, mind you- that the progress of Gavel's Recon units on the Southern Algerian front.."
" South Algeria, eh ? Thought it was relatively low key activity..."
There was a slight note of surprise with how Barrowsmith said it, though it wasn't outright shock. After all...it was all over most new channels across the whole of the EUAF that the southern Algerian front was one of most lacking when it came to GLA activity. And, that was after one considered that most of the fronts that'd been opened against the GLA during the past 10 years were like that. The Terrorists had just been rather stereotypical, and mostly conducted their operations where you might first logically think they would given where they'd originated from..
Southern Algeria might be relatively close, but still: lack of activity was lack of activity.
" Technically, yes, it is..but over the past 3 months, that appears it might be changing..", cautioned the French flag officer. " Even from SIGINT alone, and that doesn't account for HUMINT as well..."
" First though...dim the lights. "
Leaning forward now, as his order was swiftly complied with by one of the room guards, he put his own pad down on the tabletop, and quickly linked it to the centrally mounted holoprojector with a handful of rapid taps. Moments later, as shadows enveloped the room, a brightly glowing, cyan-colored map of the nation of Algeria appeared, hovering just above the Agarwood ( the most expensive wood on Earth, at 100,000 per 2 pounds...a most generous contribution from the leading and wealthiest EUAF families, of which both Barrowfield and Gavel hailed from )-surfaced table.
Highlighted at the bottom edge of the roughly-fan-shaped country, was a series of flickering dots...
Ah, yes...
Our terrorist comrades...tell me more about them, would you, Gavel...?
And, on that note...
" As you can tell from here ", the aforementioned Frenchman pointed out , " ..We've been getting more and more sightings of GLA forces out here, across what is essentially the whole of southern Algeria, forming a rough triangle with its northernmost tip located at the town of Tamanrasset. Previously, they'd been keeping to even more south of there- both northern Mali, and Niger. Or, at most, they'd rarely conducted any operations more northward than Ghardaia..."
As that burst of words ended, Gavel helpfully highlighted a new point- a glimmering dot marking the town, with an adjacent line of text revealing that it was 370 miles southeast of the Capital.
"...But, that's where the good news ends. Recently, over the past week, my field recon teams, and our allies from the Algerian Army have confirmed more and more encounters with GLA patrols and convoys. Primarily, these have been on accrual roads, or on empty land, but they have still been frequent, and more so...they're gradually moving north.
Another rapid set of taps. Now, on top of the dots that were already there...more appeared. Red ones, though, and quite a few them- the last known locations of these recent GLA skirmishes. They were, unsurprisingly, mostly clustered toward the southern regions of Algeria...but as the date-stamps become more recent, so did the dots move north.
Until, rather concernedly, they were only about 100 miles south of Algiers itself !
...Unacceptable !
That's one of the most populated cities across the whole of North Africa, as well as one of the most strategically vital. To have GLA activity that close, and evidently advancing closer...
Unacceptable. For more reasons than one..
" God almighty...their temerity is astounding ", Dalkof exclaimed, shaking his head. " They know what kind of trouble for themselves they're asking for, pushing that much toward the most defended- and populated- territories ? "
" Their steady progress, unfortunately, implies they do ", countered Gavel. " Worse...that they have a plan. "
Now, that was an implication that would command attention- and it did. For several moments, nobody spoke...
For several moments, the room was relatively silent, save for the subtle hmmmm of the projector, which was ( needless to say ) oblivious to the weight of what it was showing, as its audience members' minds went to full analytical mode...
The good news was, of course, that they were all experienced enough with the ways of the " Liberation Army " to know their general MO: Anything big they were planning was always preceded by a string of " minor " encounters/attacks. Though they possessed a full-fledged arsenal that had armored fighting vehicles ( such as tanks ), and even helicopters...they still preferred to keep as low a profile as their mishmash of bloodthirsty commanders could maintain.
However...seemed they weren't doing that anymore. Things were getting hot, and quickly.
" Has the SRS ( Special Reconnaissance Strike ) acquired any additional details on said plans as of today ? ", asked Halvani, referring to the EUAF's primary means of obtaining field data on their enemies, which fell under the direct command of General Gavel. " Or the Algerians...? "
" Only that the GLA has clearly begun to move heavier ordinance this much north than they ever have recently ", answered the French officer. " An entire battalion of Marauder tanks with Quad-Cannon was taken out by a joint Algerian/EUAF airstrike, for example, just a few days ago. Ghardaia, specifically. This isn't a bombing they're preparing for, that much is clear. Between the presence of so much heavy forces, and hacked communications, we are as confident of that as we can, given everything. "
" Seems like a full on offensive is boiling for 'em ", rumbled Barrowsmith. " Rare, but they've done it before. Only thing we need to know is where..."
" Algiers- where else ? ". Halvani seemed confident. " Most likely target for a thousand miles...barring anything else that could completely narrow it down. "
" As logical as that is ..."
Dalkof sipped more coffee for a moment ( Ethiopian...he could tell. Even without reading the label of the luxuriously embroidered label of the coffee bag that'd been decoratively placed by the decanter ), then gestured at the Holo-map. "...its still too much of an assumption. We all know this is escalating quickly, and that we don't have long to fully assemble the puzzle, but we still need to know as much as we can before we commit. "
" Great minds think along similar lines ", observed Gavel-though, how serious he was about that...was frustratingly hard to determine.
French...
An enigma, as always...
That typical obscurity aside, though...there was some validity to it. What he'd said, that is.
" More to a point...I was going to suggest that we assign a fresh Heavy Armor Division to Algiers. Charles, is the 45th Highland Guards ready to move ? "
The Scotsman scoffed lightly. " What kind of a question is that ? They were born that way, Jean..."
" However..."
He pointed now at the map. " Given the nature of the terrain around Algiers, I'll issue a recommendation of my own: We need the Railgun unit out there. Perfect sightlines for 'em, with the expanse of the desert around the city. "
Hmmm...
...Now, that was a sound idea. Though the GLA had beefed their vehicle armor over the past 10 years, they still couldn't quite match the quality of EUAF plating-and the latter's hypersonic-speed railgun projectiles had already proven they could utterly scythe though even the toughest of the GLA's AFVs. Often with one shot, as well. If it wasn't for the sheer complexity and resource-demands of outfitting whole Divisions with such cannons, the majority of the EUAF's armor would be that way already.
Still...even the ones under the command of one Katerina Von Hofferstien were enough to have pulled victory from defeat's jaws for the EUAF over and over again. What they lacked where numbers were concerned, they excelled with just how lethal they were. Railguns alone were the pinnacle
They literally erased a whole battalion of Marauders during the Battle of Suez...without any losses.
Good good, I remember how those cannons sounded. Saw the muzzle flashes. That kind of strength, with the right kind of room to wield it ?
Yes...
Yes, that's exactly what we need.
" Seconded ", he declared resolutely.
" Anyone else ? "
Soon enough, it became clear that Gavel's earlier , semi-joking offhand comment about great minds had actually been more true and accurate it it appeared- or, more likely, it was a reminder of what was already there. Either way, the following statements of " Agreed ! ", and " I concur " were, on their own, all the proof anyone would need.
Well, except for Halvani, though. Which was a surprise...
To say the least.
"...Its...a tempting option, but shouldn't we retain them here ? It might signal vulnerability, if we shift such a valuable unit away from the Homeland ", she cautiously ventured.
...Wouldn't be a true meeting if there wasn't at least some opposition...
Just a law, basically.
Gravel raised a brow at her over it, but Dalkof actually beat him to the punch: " Possibly, but our real concern should be the intimidate threat of a GLA advance toward such a high profile target such as Algiers. "
" Thinking ahead here, Max. "
" As am I. Your assessment has merit, yes, but the momentum here is for deploying the 98th Railgun Assault Division to Algiers, alongside the 45th. "
Always treat the ladies with a gentler touch..
..As much as you can afford, that is. I remember the lessons, old man..
Halvani bit her lower lip, obviously dwelling on this a bit more, before finally exhaling. " Very well...but I will relocate two of my heavy bomber squadrons to Southern France, at the Nice and Toulon bases. As a precaution. "
Barrowsmith shrugged. " Go ahead- the 76th and 78th have great records. Should deter quite a bit, based on that alone . "
" Results, Charles. They get results, which is what we'll need. "
She turned, then, back to Dalkof, and nodded. " Just like we'll need for Algeria, and anything the GLA might throw our way there. "
" Provided the 98th and 45th are suitable for the task ? "
Was she serious ? Or...was that a half-joke, again ? Another case of the two merging, for sure, but either way, it was still a legitimate question, and so it would receive a legitimate answer.
Fortunately, Dalkof had one all locked and loaded. The only one that would be suitable, as well. She might've already thought of it, but, anyway...
Out with it, as always.
" Ask ' Cleaver ' yourself, Joanna ' "...
" Who else could tell you better than her ?"