The collective mood of Prospero Air Base had changed overnight. The night before, everyone was dazed and confused- reeling from the attacks of the extremists. Now, though, the Federation personnel were ready to get back to work- downright eager, even- and give back to the rebels twice as bad as they got.
Avery looked around the briefing room as just about every pilot on the base crammed themselves inside. She and her squadron were among the lucky ones that arrived early enough to get chairs. Everyone else was left packing themselves into any space big enough to fit them. Padlock chose to sit as far away from Avery as he could while still staying with his squadron, and despite her best efforts, he had yet to even give her a passing glance since yesterday. More than once already, she had debated being the one to initiate the conversation- after all, it had to get done eventually- but ultimately decided against it. She trusted that Shepard was right that Padlock would come around when he was ready to, so if he wanted time, then she'd give it to him- even if it meant enduring a little awkwardness for the time being.
Suddenly, the door into the briefing room creaked open, and everyone turned to see Commander Grayson enter- accompanied by several other officers. "I apologize for being late, everyone. The call with Crystal Kingdom ran far longer than I hoped it would," he said as he squeezed through the crowd until he reached the front of the room.
One of the other officers set a laptop down on the podium at the front of the room and connected it to the screen. After a few effortless keystrokes, it powered on, showing the boot screen to the entire room. As soon as it was on, the officer logged in and brought up the briefing software. The desktop being displayed to the large screen was quickly replaced by a map of Cascadia and two flags off to the side: the flags of the Federation and Cascadia. The officer looked up at Grayson and nodded, giving the Commander a thumbs up.
Grayson returned the nod and looked back out toward the crowd of pilots, steadily pacing back and forth along the front of the room. "Over the last few hours, we've gained invaluable intelligence about our situation, and believe it or not, we've even managed to formulate the beginnings of a plan." He nodded to the officer at the laptop, who, in response, shaded Presidia and the surround area purple as opposed to the light blue that the rest of Cascadia was colored. "The fighting that erupted in Presidia yesterday was a carefully coordinated strike by a group of rebel extremists known that we now know as the Cascadian Independence Force. Despite being their primary target, however, Presidia wasn't the only one. Contrary to what our previous intelligence suggested, the CIF appears to be a nationwide group as opposed to a small faction within the Presidian National Guard. This allowed them to coordinate attacks up and down Cascadia successfully take and hold several large regions up north."
Once more, Grayson and the officer shared a nod, and a moment later, three large blobs of purple appeared with a handful of blue spots inside them. It was certainly a disheartening amount of ground lost to these rebels, but to be honest, Avery thought there would be more. This was definitely doable.
"Although they are the largest, consisting mostly of elements from the Cascadian National Guard, the CIF aren't the only faction that are outwardly hostile toward us. Federation Intelligence has confirmed the existence of several smaller cells of resistance throughout the country. However, none of them are remotely close to the scale of the Independence Force. For the most part, these smaller groups are made up almost entirely of partisans and extremists, and luckily for us, there seems to be quite a bit of infighting between all of them, which we plan on using to our advantage." He stopped at the middle of the room, turning around to face the screen. "Now, that takes care of the who and the where. That leaves the what and the how."
The map of Cascadia disappeared, and in its place was a screen showing images of all kinds of vehicles, ranging from tanks and APCs to fighter jets, transports, and even an air cruiser. The pictures were dubious in quality, but there was no mistaking the markings of the Cascadian National Guard on the jets.
"As I said before, the Cascadian Independence Force is comprised primarily of elements from the National Guard," Grayson continued as he resumed his pacing back and forth. "As such, we've already got a decent idea of what their force projection looks like. As a member state of the Federation, Cascadia was equipped largely by us for years. That means a lot of the hardware we're going up against here is our own. However, the Cascadian Guard has always been secondary to our own forces, so at the end of the day, our equipment is going to be newer, better maintained, and more numerous than theirs. In other words, we have a sizable advantage over them. However, that may soon change. Ever since the fighting started, the rebels have been trying to broadcast propaganda out to the world- falsehoods and lies in a fleeting attempt to gain political and military support from around the world. Fortunately, we've been doing our best to combat this by utilizing the Solana Communications Array down south. Any signals not belonging to the Federation Military are blocked from going out of the country, leaving them alone with no allies or support of any kind- for now, at least. Intelligence agents in the periphery have reported seeing Cascadian diplomats going in person to search for allies, but for now, their efforts have yet to bear any fruit. As such, it's vital that we press the attack now."
Grayson nodded to the officer, and the map of Cascadia returned with the same spots of blue and purple as before. He pulled a laser pointer out of one of the many pockets in his uniform, and after verifying that it was on, he turned his back to the crowd to face the screen.
"The CIF managed to catch us off-guard with their opening blows, but the element of surprise will only take them so far. Their attacks have left them spread thin across the country, with most of their forces concentrating in three main areas- the largest of which being Presidia," Grayson explained, pointing to each purple region as he talked. "Given its strategic location, as well as its immediate proximity to Prospero, I think it's obvious that Presidia should be our primary target. Fortunately, our two top of the line battleships and their fleets were spared from the attacks, so they've had the chance to continually barrage the city. When the time comes to retake the city, they'll move into the port and force them out. Until then, however, our focus needs to be on pushing the rebels back into Presidia. Because if they get a foothold this far south, then it'll cause problems for us throughout the war. However, if we ignore their forces further north, then they'll quickly outflank and surround us, so it's crucial that we keep them on the defensive while keeping ourselves from spreading too thin. The bulk of our ground forces have already mobilized, and before long, they'll be making contact with the enemy. As for you pilots, we'll begin regular sorties starting tomorrow. There'll be plenty to do, so make sure that you're ready for what's to come. Dismissed."
The room quickly exploded into chaos as the dozens of pilots cramped into a small room all rushed to get out as quickly as possible. However, the pilots of Locksmith Squadron remained seated. After all, it's not like any of them were in a hurry to go anywhere. In fact, the opposite was true more than anything else. They had just a few hours left before they were about to be busier than they'd ever been before, and all of them wanted to make those hours count.
A heavy sigh escaped Shepard's lips. "Truth is always the first casualty of war, it seems," he murmured softly.
Avery looked over at him curiously, tilting her head slightly to the side. "What's that, sir?"
"Nothing, nothing," the Major assured her, shaking his head. "I was just… remembering, is all. The way this is all playing out, it's reminding me a bit of Oceania. The restlessness, the… uncertainty of it all. It's like we've gone back to relive the same events again."
"You flew in Oceania?" ASH asked, joining in the conversation.
Shepard nodded solemnly. "That I did. I had just finished my flight training before it all went down. I was hardly any older than you two when the bullets started flying." His voice trailed off as memories he'd hoped to not think about again came rushing back. "With any luck, this'll all be over before it has a chance to get that bad."
"Don't you worry about a thing, boss. We may be in a bit of a rough spot right now, but we'll pull through it," Cutter assured his wingman, giving him a friendly nudge with his elbow. "Besides, last time around, you had to deal with some of the scariest mercenaries alive. Now we've just gotta deal with a few errant Guardsmen. It may not be easy, but we'll come out on top in the end."
"I hope you're right, Jackson," Shepard said with a sigh. "Because quite frankly, I think I'm getting a bit too high up in years to deal with another Oceania."
Avery looked around, and upon seeing that the room had emptied out enough for them to leave, she stood up and stretched. "Hey, as long as we've got each other, we'll make it through this just fine."
ASH immediately scoffed at the comment. "And here I was thinking that you couldn't get much more cliché," she teased her as she followed her lead and got to her feet.
Slowly but surely, the squadron of pilots began making their way out of the briefing room and splitting off from each other. One by one, they all veered away as they all sought to spend their last few hours in a way that left them with as much satisfaction as they could get. Because all of them knew that their troubles were only just beginning. They may have survived the initial blows, but the Cascadian Independence Force wasn't about to roll over for the Federation so easily- as much as Avery wished that they would. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, the Federation and Cascadia were about to go to war, and starting tomorrow, the real work was only just beginning.