A/N: Chapter 2 everyone! So one of the things I had to think about, was the discovery of the Ulysses asteroid in Ace Combat. The wiki says that they discovered it in 1994, and I initially wrote the scene as if the characters of the Centauri knew about it. Well, it turns out the FCU President, Robert Sinclair announced that in 1996. So I had to rewrite much of it. Oh well, it is what it is. And the wiki page in question, Asteroid On Collision Course With Earth, talks about the implemented communications control to prevent mass panic. I like to think that those measures were never fully lifted after the Ulysses asteroid made impact. For a game about fighter jets shooting down other fighter jets, it unironically has some pretty deep and complex lore.
I realised that the Strangereal countries still refer themselves as "Earth" so… u/Gullible_Promotion_4 gave me a line I could use: "an instance of strange realities" and it's how the US/NAU refer to their Erusean and Osean counterparts, much to their chagrin and they refer the Americans as "Strangereal nations" :) Also not sure, but to clarify, the Race (from Turtledove's Worldwar series) is mentioned in the last chapter and I made a more direct mention of them here.
Been re-reading the Light Novel for Japan Summons and just been picking up on little details I missed the first time around, cause it's been a hot minute since I've last read the LN. Thought of adding a quote about the Leonids of 1833, then I figured I'll save them for later. Gotta build me some Chekhov's Rube Goldberg machines.
"Separated by the horizon, the ground and the sky are different worlds. And here I stand between them."- Aces at War, a History, 2019
"The beautiful part of being an American is that you can come from anywhere. We should never forget that our country was founded by immigrants seeking a new promised future from the old world. We should understand that those who chose to come here, they have taken steps to make this country their home. America is a nation of ideals!"- President Henry J. Eden, delivering a speech in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
"My brothers and sisters, I envision a better tomorrow, a better world. Today we stand as the last bulwark against Osean aggression. They have meddled with Erusea, spreading poisonous lies to the ears of the ISAF. They shall pay for their crimes! We shall never forget what they did."- Captain Emeric Pons, callsign: AXEMAN. Sukhoi Ace of the Erusean Air Force, twenty confirmed kills in the Continental War.
[Centauri]
Andrius spent his days interacting with the various crew members of the Centauri, a Belkan cargo ship. He helped out with what he could here and there, relatively simple tasks of cleaning or helping them move things around the ship. Doctor Scharner brought up the fact that he was suffering some sort of amnesia, which Andrius was happy to go along with. It made things easier to wave away some of his lack of knowledge regarding certain events and things the Belkans did.
The crew gave him sympathy, and in a casual conversation with Ulrich, a navigator, Andrius knew that magic was fictional to the Belkans and the rest of the world.
"Are you talking about those tabletop games?" He inquired and Andrius brushed it off.
"Something like that, just a fuzzy memory, that's all." Andrius replied and the navigator talked about his family back in Hoffnung.
In the evenings, Andrius taught himself the language so that he didn't need to use the translation spell constantly, and read up on the current events of this new world. From newspaper clippings, and radio broadcasts he listened to- the country known as the Osean Federation was being more and more aggressive toward its neighbours.
The crew aboard the Centauri complained loudly and bitterly about the Oseans, their unfair tariffs and increasing demand for land and resources. "They want our ore deposits inside the mountains," Stefan, one of the mechanics, declared loudly one night. "Makes sense doesn't it? My friend's nephew works for Grunder North Mining Incorporated, and he's told me that they found new undiscovered veins."
"It's not just the mountains they want," another crew member replied dismissively. "Those Oseans want the rest of the continent as well. They're starting to amp up pressure on Leasath and Aurelia as well," he replied and the assembled crew fell silent.
Andrius decided to speak up, offering his two cents and just to learn more. "Surely the rest of the world wouldn't stand for this," And Stefan shook his head in response.
"Most of the Usean countries and Yuktobania protested. The response was that Osea sent a carrier group to Gunther Bay as a show of force. They talk a lot, but they can actually back their words." He replied and Andrius fell silent into contemplation.
Gunboat diplomacy, as the books here called it- characterised the diplomatic relationships between many of the nations in his world, Tau 9. The technical designation given by Ravernals when they had first settled. He recalled some records referring to a Raverna Septenus, the last word meaning ninth, and a Raverna Primus, but it was under lock and key that he couldn't access- even with his connections. Still, Andrius found another fascinating thing about this world was the technological development of every country, regardless of region.
Reading the history books they had here, he noticed for the majority of the time, many countries followed similar development of technology. The time period from the 1700s to the early 1800s where muskets and ships-of-the-line were commonplace. To modern times, the creation of the bolt-action rifle, machine guns… tanks powered by non-magical engines, and of course, aircraft. One thing that chilled him to the bone was something called "nuclear weapons" and the destruction a warhead or missile could create.
The black and white picture of a mushroom cloud and the aftermath pictures of testing sites in Yuktobania terrified him more. Was this the core magic technology that I've heard of? But then, why would the Ravernals use it in the past against primitive societies? There were no large gaps of disparity between most of the larger countries, unlike how the HME strictly controlled exports and the Muans developed separately until the Leiforian Wars.
"Mark my words everybody," Jens said with a dark tone. "Those Oseans are going to get what they deserve." The assembled crew fell into quiet silence after that, before Stefan broke the ice once more.
"So Andreas-" Stefan asked with his new name, something that Doctor Scharner misheard and Andrius didn't bother correcting the man at the time- "You still don't remember all that much?"
"No, not at a thing unfortunately." He replied and fidgeted with a small pin of the Holy Milishial Empire. The last thing he had of the old world and his home.
"Just this pin, and I know that it means a lot to me. None of you guys here recognise the flag?" He asked, knowing the answer fully well as the crew members muttered amongst themselves and shook their heads.
Jens patted him on the shoulder. "Once we make port, we'll make sure you get the help you need. And I hope you get your memories back."
"Are you still going to run off to the Air Force?" Stefan asked and Jens laughed in response.
"Hell yeah! This is just a temp job. I know some people that'll slot me right into the cockpit of a Blackbird."
"An SR-71?" Stefan said dubiously. "I doubt they'll put a brat like you in a plane like that. Why don't you go fly kites instead, kiddo?"
"Shut it old man, I flew F-4s when I was nineteen," Jens shot back and the rest of the crew just laughed, brushing off his words as empty boasts.
Later, Andrius asked Jens about the Blackbird and the F-4, which he supposedly flew.
"Look here-" Jens pointed to a picture of him standing next to an officer at an airport runway. "That's Lieutenant Rudi Kaltz, a friend I made when I was at Heierlark Air Force Base. We used it with the Oseans for a while as a joint training base and I put a lot of hours into the flight simulators there-"
"Flight simulator?" Andrius asked and Jens was happy to explain.
"It's like this advanced computer system that's connected to a cockpit. They have a lot of them and I practised a lot with the one meant for the F-4 Phantom." Andrius nodded as if he knew what Jens was talking about. Just more things he needed to study in the future.
"So after a long time, they had a handful of Phantoms prepped for basic flight exercises with some Air Force cadets." Jens grinned and pointed to a different picture of him wearing a black and white striped jumpsuit. "I decided to take one of the puppies for a spin, and I flew pretty good- until they threatened to shoot me down. That's me, I was in a military prison for a couple weeks until…"
He showed Andrius a third picture, of an older balding man- who looked to be in his mid forties. "That's Colonel Wolfgang Buchner, he's the son of bigshot nobles in this country and he got me out of prison. I'm working here on the Centauri as part of national community service. As soon as we dock, I'm giving him a call and he's gonna slot me into an experimental flight squadron in the Air Force."
That night, Andrius wrote down Andreas Fouriner on a notepad and repeated the name inside his head. Fouriner sounded like foreigner and it fit him pretty well. The Holy Milishian Empire pin was the only evidence that he had of his homeland. It was time to embrace a new identity in this new world, and learn as much as possible about its technology.
Once the Centauri made port, they would send him to a hospital and Captain Ingram and Doctor Scharner advised him on various social programs available. Priorities slowly formed in his mind, the first which was obtaining educational certificates like a diploma or degree. Then… he supposed he would live in Belka for the time being.
[Fort Benning]
[Muscogee/Chattanooga County]
[United States of America]
[Honor Hill]
Private Alan Bishop barely noticed his surroundings as he put one foot in front of the other. It was dark, with occasional lighting illuminated by the drill sergeants and coming from the deuce pulling the water buffalo in the rear. The sling for his M240B burned the back of his neck, and he debated internally whether or not he should've carried the 81mm mortar instead. Alan had traded with Emilo during a brief break on their final ruck, since the shorter guy was struggling with the machine gun. Though the mortar was just as heavy, the difference was that it was on your back. Only marginally better in his opinion.
Alejandro announced earlier that they had just gone through the Stairway to Heaven, but Alan barely even noticed- or distinguished it from the other hills. The days of exhaustion from the FTX weighed down heavily in his mind as he struggled to stay awake while walking. "You're almost there, privates!" Drill Sergeant Vickers hollered with a megaphone.
"Encourage each other, just a little longer and it'll all be over."
The words washed past him, but he ignored the ache of his wrists and held up the 240 a little and widened his stride. Drill Sergeant Douglas passed him, face covered in paint like everybody else and he held an M4 that belonged to one of the non-trainers. "Two weeks left! And we outta this joint!" He recognized the voice as Kinnow from 2nd Platoon, and DS Douglas glanced back momentarily before muttering "dumbass" and continued walking forward. Normally when they rucked, the drills harped on about noise and light discipline- but he supposed on the final ruck, they let them have a small moment.
Looking around him now, Alan could recognize the pathway they took. The first time going to Land Nav sites and the little place they did CLS. Wracking his memory, he recalled the Solomon Blood Center or something that they'd passed by often. Soon enough, as they walked up a dirt pathway, Alan could see the bright orange glow of flames in front of him. The rest of his company, as if spurred by the sight- began to move faster and started shouting encouragement at one another.
Over the din, the drill sergeants joined in as well. Falling to the rear of the formation, they shouted and yelled at the ones in the back. At the strugglers who were having a tough time.
"Some of you better pray to fucking God you get to a mechanized unit because you're sucking ass on this ruck!" One of the drill sergeants roared, and Alan could take a guess at who he was yelling at. The handful of people that always struggled physically, he wondered if they regretted picking light infantry units- like 4th Infantry at Carson or 25th Infantry in Hawaii.
"Samson you outta pick up your goddamn pace. When you get to Fort Campbell, your team leader will skullfuck you till you get stronger!" Drill Sergeant McMillian roared.
"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" Samson shouted back, while DS McMillian tore him down and brought him back up. Alan had picked Fort Riley as his duty station as part of his contract- 1st Infantry Division, the Big Red One. And because he had some family that lived in Kansas City close by.
They set their rucks down off to the side as their company formed up and in a rare moment, they didn't have to set up the mortars or their machine guns besides placing them on the ground. Captain Connolly and First Lieutenant Devenson watched everybody form up, basking under the torchlit glow of fires surrounding them. Standing in the first rank of the platoon formation, Alan could see everything.
It was as if time had stopped all around them, the only sounds coming from the crackle of flames of torches and the giant bonfire. He had passed through the gates with the words that said From this gate emerge the finest soldiers the world has ever known, FOLLOW ME, FORTES FORTUNA JUVAT. Alan felt numb, and he could feel the aching of his feet recede to the back of his mind as the drill sergeants assembled behind the officers.
The silence felt like an eternity as Alan stood at attention. Captain Connolly observed them expressionlessly before he took a few steps forward.
"Bravo Company, parade rest!" He ordered and instantly, the entire company clasped their hands behind their backs while moving their right foot to the side. A few more seconds passed as they remained at parade rest, and First Sergeant Powell stepped up beside Captain Connolly.
"Bravo Company, when you stepped on that bus from 30th AG, there were exactly one hundred sixty three of you." Connolly spoke, measured and calm. "One, six, three," he paused as he walked back and forth in front of them. "And we're down to one twenty as of today."
He stopped walking, standing in the center again.
"Some of them were quitters, while others couldn't hack it mentally, or are in the process of getting medically chaptered out. They couldn't meet the Army standard, couldn't make the cut."
He raised his voice.
"Everybody here on the other hand, you have met that standard. Twenty weeks- it took twenty weeks to get you all here on Honor Hill. Privates… take pride in what you are now." He said solemnly. "Take pride that you've all done something incredible, take pride in your struggles and accomplishments that led you to this exact moment."
Alan stood a little taller, an unfamiliar emotion welled up in him- the same feeling he had at the end of the Forge and the Turning Green ceremony on Pomeroy Field.
"You are all now part of something great. A brotherhood that goes beyond blood. You raised your hand and swore in, you wear this uniform with pride. This past week, you have applied everything you've learned in the last twenty weeks in this final test. A test that you overcame."
Captain Connolly reached into his pocket and took out a small circular pin. Alan couldn't make it out clearly, but everyone instantly knew what he was holding.
"When you all turned green, walking across Pomeroy and your parents or drills put that US ARMY patch on your shoulder- you earned the right to be called a soldier. Now today, you are infantrymen. Eleven Charlies! You have the foundation and skills necessary to be considered an infantryman. Don't let some POGs, those fucking cav scouts and combat engineers say they're infantry. It is you all that get to wear the Crossed Rifles and the Blue Cord."
"Take pride privates. At 198th here, we build the infantry. And we have built you all up from whatever you used to be before the Army. Now, just two weeks from now, you will walk across the NIM and proudly wear the blue cord- and begin your career in the army. Some of you will go to RASP and Airborne. Some of you will remain stateside, some of you will get deployed. Remember your training, remember the fortitude that is necessary to get through all this. Congratulations, you have overcome the first of many hurdles in your career."
There was a moment of silence before a crescendo of a roar came from the assembled trainees. Alan joined in, tired as he was, he let the feeling of exultation wash over him. Briefly overwhelming the exhaustion as he thought of every single thing that was done in the past five to six months.
Eagle Tower, gas chamber, doing lunges across Penry Range. Squatting and holding your M4 out in front of you- charging handle pulled back. Land Navigation- looking into Columbus across Tiger Creek. Sleeping in a field, bathed under the glow of illumination rounds as their sister companies fired mortars at a nearby range. The Forge, US Weapons- firing an AT4, the Mk19, room clearing, urban operations. Gunnery drills at the MTA, live fires and the FTX.
Alan barely remembered what happened afterwards. Drinking the fruit mix that was the grog- before he knew it- he was in his PTs staring up at the bunk above him. Back at Bravo 1-19. The soft snores from his buddies and the loud fan that hardly worked, and two people on fireguard as they swept the place with their red headlamps.
Friedmann was getting ready to sleep on the bunk next to him, and Alan turned to speak to him.
"It's not a dream right?" He asked in a small voice and Friedmann looked up in brief surprise before nodding in response.
"Not a dream," he smiled at Alan, "We got our crossed rifles. We're done with OSUT, we made it buddy."
Alan gave a small smile in response. "Yeah… we- actually did. I'll be off to Kansas soon enough."
Friedmann snorted at that as he laid down in his bunk. "Fucking Georgia still, at least it's Fort Stewart. Not freaking Sand Hill here like Buford. I bet he's regretting picking this as his duty station."
When duty stations were announced around week 16, or 17, a good amount of people that didn't have duty stations in their contracts were set to go to 1st Cavalry in Fort Hood or 3rd Infantry in Fort Stewart. A sprinkle of individuals- those that earned Airborne went to Bragg with the 82nd, and a few guys in fourth platoon went to Fort Campbell.
Distant dreams of a hopeful future lingered on Alan as he fell asleep.
Because soon enough his whole world would be flipped upside down.
[Dinsmark]
[Belkan Federation]
"My brothers and sisters- the imperialist Oseans continue to hound at our borders. They have forced our hand and now we must defend ourselves. Our right hand wields the blade, the left hand holds the shield. Belka stands against the Osean Federation, we must take that decisive first blow to assert our independence and defend our national sovereignty. Ustio has also-"
The speech by Waldemarr Rald was constantly replayed on the television. Andrius, or Andreas Fouriner, now worked as a medical orderly for the Belkan Medical Corps. War had broken out against the Oseans shortly after the Centauri made port, and after wishing farewells to the crew, he was bounced between local hospitals before the need of manpower enlisted him into their Armed Forces.
It was the medical papers on amnesia, and the lack of identification that prevented him being sent to combat arms. The Belkan Army gave him new ID papers though, and now he was a Gefreiter of the 210th Medical Sustainment Battalion. Already he had his glimpse into a war between two evenly matched powers. Wounded soldiers and civilians from the frontlines as he helped treat their horrific injuries.
Newsreel footage directly from the front and in vivid colours had him watching the television with wide eyes. Bombed out tanks and fighter jets taking off from bases and the various aircraft of the Ustio Air Force shot down. He knew some Muan's that would give an arm and a leg to be here. He knew they were touting the biplanes as their new mechanical achievement. But what the Belkans, the Ustians, and the Oseans had here eclipsed both Mu and the HME. Aircraft that shattered the sound barrier, heavily armoured tanks moving at impressive speeds- achieving something neither the HME or Mu could do. And there was a gut feeling that this strange reality had more incredible weapons hidden away somewhere, or was in the process of developing them.
That terrified him the most.
The mission of the Holy Milishial Empire was to defend the world against the Ancient Sorcerous Empire, the Ravernals. Ever since he started learning about the technology of the Belkans and the rest of the world, it shed light on how much further his country needed to go. This entire world was fundamental proof of how much a society could advance without magic, and in apparent record time as well. What the HME and Mu did in hundreds of years, the people of Earth accomplished it in less than a century.
He took some pills, checked off on the medication and brought them to his patient. Captain Herrick Engel, callsign Harpune, who piloted an F-15E Strike Eagle before he was shot down.
"Fouriner…" He muttered while Andreas filled out some paperwork next to him. "Sir?" He asked and Engel looked at him. "There is a real demon flying for Ustio, taking down everything thrown at him." Engel closed his eyes then let out a deep sigh. "Aces like myself went and faced that monster… shot us down with little effort on his part." He murmured as Andreas laid out the medicine.
"Your pills sir," and Engel took them wordlessly. He continued to stare out the window, the skies above Dinsmark dark and gloomy.
"We're going to lose this war." He stated simply and looked at Andreas again. "I don't care if you report me for defeatism Gefreiter. This entire conflict is a gambit of a power-hungry madman."
"I'm a medic sir." Andreas deflected, "I'm not going to say anything." The two remained silent for the next few minutes before he got up and left the captain. During his rushed induction into the Belkan Armed Forces, there had been a few officers from Rald's political party, the DLP, who urged servicemembers to report on those who they considered "unpatriotic" and defeatist.
Andreas recalled some of his interactions with Director Palpe, the two maintained an easy-going friendship, and a colleague in his department, Meteos Roguerider. An arrogant person who at least had his heart in the right place. The two had talked at Meklarn Air Force Base, situated east towards the Parpaldians, and it was there that Meteos had explained to him the finer details of warfare.
"A nation that has to watch their own troops, especially if they fear their soldiers will run, will inevitably suffer greatly in war." Meteos explained, as the two were discussing the history of the Muan Civil War. "The old monarchies in Mu were very unpopular with their people by the time conflict kicked off. They couldn't rely on their own troops as much, and as history books tell us- the war ended when the Royal Guardsmen sided with the rebellion and beheaded the king."
The immediate suppression of possible dissent right as war began, especially with how often the military police and the DLP blackshirts prowled the city and the rearlines. Hell… just by looking at the map, Andreas knew that Belka would be suffering defeat. There was a part of him that was curious about the diplomatic play as in the Third Civilization Area, the victors had little respect for the defeated. On Earth here, the widespread access of television and information kept the governments in check for the most part. Part public opinion and a notion of civility between each country.
The Aurelian Accords, a historical document written in 1945 by an Aurelian humanitarian official, outlining the rules of war and defining terms such as crimes against humanity. Andreas marvelled at the beauty of such a thing, such an incredible document- and he idly wondered why nobody in the HME came up with something similar. Andreas had written down the key points of the Accords, and if he somehow ended up back in his home country- he'd bring it to the ministry.
For now, he still had work that needed to be done as more Belkan wounded were brought in.
[Magicaregia]
[Avestria, Annonrial Empire Intelligence Agency]
Major General Endo Palmer of the Ravernal General Staff waited patiently as senior Annonrial officers filed into the room.
"General Palmer, good to see you again," Colonel General Rens extended his hand, and Palmer took it in greeting.
"Likewise, sir, the war is proceeding relatively smoothly on all fronts." He said in a cordial tone. Palmer had his own opinions regarding their lesser winged counterparts, but he wasn't idiotic enough to voice them out loud.
Regarding this conquest, the Annonrials provided the bulk of the overwhelming manpower needed to drown their human enemies. The Ravernal Conquest Fleet, led by Fleet Marshal Gildeen Mirkwood, had responded to multiple Secessionist beacons that had gone off. Fresh from campaigns against the Race, the Chancellor authorised this venture.
Lo and behold, they were preparing to crush the remnants of the Secessionist Movement and finally kill off the remaining leaders on Raverna Septenus. The Circle of Rebels, Court of Seventeen, Noble Seventeen, as names went by. It was assumed by High Command at the time, that after settling on Tau 9, the remaining rebels licked their wounds and formed a last final counteroffensive against the main RNSF fleet near Raverna Tertius. Admiral Windlow thought that there were friendly forces awaiting for him once he dropped out of hyperspace.
Triumph of Macoloth, Macoloth Massacre, as it was called. The Eastern Secessionist fleet under Lord Caliban were destroyed- whittled down as part of a lengthy chase across three star systems. Windlow ran straight into Admiral Macoloth's main fleet and- in private officers admired the bravery of the rebels- Windlow and the remaining rebel leaders were killed then and there. The corvette Meridian which allegedly carried one of the younger leaders of noble blood was destroyed by the Holden. Closing the chapter of history at the end of it.
After that, the new and young Emperor Zaranov tightened his control over the remaining nobility. Out of the seventeen, twelve came from nobility- and the youngest that had fled on the Meridian, was related to the royal family, and according to some rumours- half brother of Emperor Zaranov himself. Though one thing that he couldn't overwrite, was the fact that all Ravernal ships would respond and give manual control if someone related to the royal family inputted the commands, and offered a drop of blood as proof.
Regardless, the Secessionist movement was defeated in battle and eventually at home. So when signal technicians were suddenly bombarded by Secessionist beacon flashes and regular broadcasting signals, they sent out scouts towards Tau 9. And there, Marshal Mirkwood discovered a unique situation.
The Annonrials, lesser beings descended from Ravernals- even if they were Secessionists- pledged their loyalty and services. The information was brought to Emperor Zaranov, who welcomed them into the fold, eager to add more beings into the empire after the Race was defeated and conquered.
Right now, he was supposed to brief them on strategy and updates regarding the Osean Federation, the Confederate Nations of Usea and the two Americas. Four powerful nations, all of them powerhouses in their own right- no matter how backward and primitive they were in comparison to the Empire.
The Gra Valkans and the Milishians were dismissed as irrelevant as of now. The conquest of the two Americas, Osea and Usea was sufficient enough to control the world.
The Annonrials all snapped to attention when their Emperor walked in. As he walked past them, they knelt in reverence and Zaratosthra looked at Palmer and the other Ravernal officers in the room. Palmer met the emperor's gaze, if the Annonrial was expecting him to fall to his knees in supplication- he was wrong. A Ravernal would never bow to a lesser being.
Palmer and his subordinates merely dipped their heads slightly out of deference.
The emperor said nothing and took a seat off to the side with his defence ministers. Once everybody got back up and were seated, Palmer began his presentation.
Three giant holograms flashed into existence.
One was the globe itself, with small purple shapes indicating the RNSF ships and where they were currently bombarding. There were more ships above the Usean continent than usual, since Marshal Mirkwood berated Admiral Lugenbrau over open comms for the loss of the Lusitania and the Hagincour. That was probably one of the most awkward things to listen in on. It was retribution as Ravernal ships bombed Usean cities into dust, adding more damage and scars to the continent.
The other two focused on the United States of America and the Osean Federation. It showed live updated movements from their armies and the human military. In the Osean Federation, they had seized much of the initial targets such as Oured given it's eastern proximity, but most of the Osean Ground Defence Force was retreating deeper into their country.
The US had planted mana infused anti-tank mines and were launching experimental artillery shells alongside regular ones at Annonrial divisions in South Carolina. Mentally, he flipped a coin and decided to talk about Osea first.
"Gentlemen…" Palmer spoke, clearing his throat as he did so. Pointing to the Osean Federation, he enlarged the map. It focused on the upwards curving part of the country and plenty of tiny red dots appeared throughout- with places like BANA CITY and OURED in capital letters.
"As of right now, both the Annonrial 4th Army and the 10th Ravernal Infantry Corps has control over these areas-" A jagged black line appeared, dividing the land up and Oured was now a shaded mix of blue and red.
"For the sake of this discussion, the Annonrial Army will be referred to as AN and the Ravernal forces as RN. Currently the OGDF has withdrawn a majority of their divisions further inland despite the casualties sustained by our orbital bombardments. We estimate each Osean division that manages to escape the southeastern region will sustain at least thirty percent casualties with the current rate of bombardment. While Bana City has fallen rather quickly, Oured remains contested by the Osean 30th National Guard Division, 13th Airborne Brigade, 6th Infantry Division and the 49th Armored Division."
The hologram immediately highlighted the respective units in various sectors throughout Oured. "Much of the government has been evacuated, President Monson has continued to release broadcasts urging his citizens to endure and fight." A picture of Monson appeared off to the side, along with members of his cabinet.
"Our current policy is to paralyse the human nations by striking at their cities, factories, farmland, and their roads. Osean townships and cities with a population above thirty thousand will be subject to bombardment. We've also destroyed a good amount of their atmospheric aircraft at Redmill Air Force Base, including the Chief of Staff of the Osean Air Defence Force."
One of the Annonrials raised his hand, "General if I may," He spoke in a reedy tone, "Colonel Alcor, Army Intelligence," he identified himself. The Annonrial officer narrowed his eyes at him as he stared at the hologram. "We have committed three army groups against the Osean Federation and the United States of America. Four point two million soldiers take up arms in this great crusade."
"Yes, your point colonel?" Palmer replied, stressing his rank. The Annonrial officer showed no sign of hesitation or nervousness at addressing a general officer. He reminded Palmer of himself in a way, questioning the orders of superiors and finding connections where there were none.
"General, we are fighting the whole world on the basis of Ravernal support-"
"Yes, yes. Our orbital bombardments will bring them to heel-"
"I believe that won't be enough." Alcor said frankly, and it was enough to derail Palmer for a moment. The Annonrial continued on, barreling forth undeterred despite some looks his own superiors were giving him. Emperor Zaratosthra merely glanced at Colonel Alcor in mild interest, before refocusing on the holograms.
"Ever since we've picked up the strange signals east of the Celavestern region and the Branchel Lesser Isles to the west, I took great effort in studying our human foes. The Osean Federation has fought opponents that were equal to them in both material and military might. They have won every major modern engagement, from the Belkan Wars to their most recent against a large country called Yuktobania. Their own actions have led to the creation of the Confederacy that opposes them across the globe. These humans have been threatened and suffered multiple times by weapons greater than the Core Magic bombs through nuclear bombs."
Palmer acknowledged Alcor's words. "Regardless, when their industry is frozen and transportation gone, they will be-"
"Sir, the Americans… the USA and her people are ready to fight to the end. Study material from both the NAU and the USA- even if one is a borderline dictatorship, indicates that it's citizenry will fight for their country and ideals until the end. Our frontline forces in the US still haven't quite managed to seize the preliminary targets- especially Norfolk as we assumed they would be receiving support from the RNSF. These are not primitives that could be cowed by starships and destructive bombs. The Americans, Oseans and the Useans intend to make us pay the butcher's bill for their lands."
Palmer didn't explode or do anything. He understood the logical side of Alcor's questioning and acknowledged his words. "Colonel, I assure you this is just in the first few days of war. I understand that the Annonrial people are unfamiliar with space warfare- within the month, I expect the Osean Federation and the US to ask for terms once the damage takes their toll. Aerial supremacy is key, but ships in orbit hold the ultimate high ground. Unlike the Confederacy and the NAU, they rely too much on the opinions of their citizens to conduct policy. If we cause enough misery and destruction, their own people will vote or overthrow the government outright."
Alcor showed slight surprise. "You are familiar with their government?" And Palmer nodded in response. "Yes. Two genuine democracies. Which is why they're receiving the first round of attacks in our war. The only deviation comes from the Confederacy after the loss of two ships." He admitted, even if he hated showing weakness at Annonrials.
A second purpose was to show the primitives of this world, the invincibility of the Ravernal Empire. Their ships could go FTL through hyperspace. They had recently triumphed against the Race, forcing their emperor to be subservient. Even now, regular Ravernal infantry wore Race-inspired warpaint on their helmets and faces. The destruction of the two ships over Usea, it was humiliation. Especially so early in the war, unlike the Race where serious casualties appeared near the end of the war.
Humans had achieved first blood. There was no denying it. But regardless, Command had concluded that democratic nations were more feeble and prone to-"
"General, with all due respect, by taking a cursory glance at US and Osean history, it shows that they band together more closely in war, than peacetime. Take the 9/11 Attacks for example-"
"Colonel Alcor, it is easy to feel outrage if you're not the one on the receiving end of bombardment. Especially if they take place halfway across the country." Palmer said, putting his foot down at last. "If you have further questions, I ask that you hold them until the end."
Colonel Alcor dipped his head, then leaned back in his seat. Alcor's superiors muttered something to him- along the lines of "keep your opinions to yourself-" and as Palmer continued his presentation, Alcor's words replayed in his mind. While their ships were damaging, they didn't have an infinite source of superplasma rounds, and strategists were banking on the fact that the citizens of Osea and the US would grow tired of war.
"They could fight till the end like the Secessionists." The image of the Royal-class heavy battleship Hurricane Gale was burned in his mind. Her batteries firing its rounds even as she broke apart in the void. Admiral Windlow died like any great officer worth his salt. He thought of Fleetlord Atvar, going down with his flagship- hull blazing as lizards and Ravernal corpses froze in space. Most of the nations here were already terrified of Ravernal might, from mana comm intercepts, they intended on surrendering at first opportunity- with very few exceptions such as Qua-Toyne and Altaras.
He hadn't expected such primitive nations to openly defy the Ravernals when they announced their presence for the first time. It was likely due to the strong presence of both the NAU and the Confederacy in those nations. In his own way, Palmer could respect the humans. Somehow becoming transferred in this new world, they had quickly established themselves as the dominant powers under a thin veil of diplomacy.
As he detailed the later stages of Operation Shorebreaker, the invasion into the US East Coast, there was a nagging feeling in his head that these humans were going to fight harder with time.
A/N: I'm trying to go for shorter chapters honestly. So I can update more often. The Belkan pilots that were named, Rudi Kaltz, Jens Thon, Herrick Engel and Wolfgang Buchner are actual Aces you encounter in the game.
In OSUT they read out duty stations a day after we got our AGSUs. We finished our first week at the MTA, and I remember coming back into the bay and seeing our dress uniforms- we were pretty giddy and some of us wore the full uniform at night just to see how it looked. Anyway, for duty stations- in my company they did send most guys to Fort Hood (I know it's Cavanzos now) but those were guys that had "Needs of the Army" in their contracts. I was one of the handful of outliers that got sent to Fort Carson, 2-23.
It's where I would be right now if I didn't get medboarded. Word of advice, if you had spine surgery in December, do not join the army that following September, just saying. I should've picked a different MOS but my dumbass signed for six years in the infantry- and everybody tells me "you ain't gonna be a charlie" well at 30th they told my group- "Congrats you guys are 11 Charlies, get cucked." It sucks cause my back was hurting pretty bad after the FTX and we're all just cleaning shit and not doing anything- worst mistake going to sick call to get my back checked. Feels bad when you get your ribbons and crossed rifles, only to return them along with all your issued gear. Now I just go to college and keep my head down. Still I went there and honestly it sucked at the time, but goddamn parts of it were really fun and memorable.
