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Phoenix From The Flames
Posted: Feb 12 2009, 02:41 PM
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(OOC: This may be a year and a half late and Nedalia may have vanished into the ether but who's counting! It's probably best to finish the last chapter before starting the next one so this first part takes place during the events of Operation Galactica.)


On paper it shouldn’t even have been a contest. For all Nedalian President Dala’a’s posturing and her nation’s vast military spending she was still leading her country into a conflict it shouldn’t win. A large part of the Nedalian military was already committed, attempting to stem the Starblaydi drive into the Lowland Clans, and opening a second front in Verdana was a huge undertaking. Particularly when her target was one of the most militaristic regimes in the region, who could bring their entire military to bear on any would-be invader. But wars aren’t fought on paper . . .

As history would go on to prove the Nedalians had one overwhelming advantage, the quality of their commanders. While Dala’a’s military hierarchy were battle hardened veterans of conflicts in the South Islands and Latao the Autocracy’s supreme leader was a rank amateur. Andrius Vyntra, a career politician, who had schemed his way right to the top of the political tree. As Autokrator, the nation’s leader, he was a talented administrator and exceptional speaker. As the commander-in-chief he was a dangerous novice. Convinced of his own military skills, hadn’t he studied countless works of the great generals of history?, he replaced anyone who disagreed with his own view of grand strategy with someone more pliable, filling the High Command with yes man and sycophants. After all, why did he need any advice? He had a plan and it was infallible.

Vyntra’s vision was simple. The Nedalians would strike at the Autocracy through neighbouring Bettia, a long time ally of Dala’a, and there they would die. For on the border between Bettia and Hypocria stood the Western Wall, a vast line of fortifications, mile after mile of barbed wire, trenches, bunkers, heavy artillery, supply depots and barracks. As the threat of war grew the Autokrator had thrown tens of thousands of workers and untold millions of draxals into fortifying the border and now he would reap the rewards. The Grand Army of the Autocracy, with Vyntra at its head, moved to take up position along the wall. The Nedalian’s would come and they would be crushed against the Wall. And then Vyntra would unleash his huge army, they would drive into Bettia, annexing the neutral state, and on into helpless Nedalia. Dala’a would be dragged before him in chains. The blue and white banners would fly from the walls of Gabalfa and Kafra. Spruitland would fall and then Falcania. And Andrius Vyntra would be Emperor of all Verdana.

How his cronies cheered their leader’s vision, further fanning the flames of his insane arrogance. Those last few brave men who dared question the strategy, who pointed out the folly of enemy forces even attempting a frontal assault against such fortifications and mentioned the increase in Nedalian naval activity off the Autocracy’s southern coast, were found other employment far away from the ‘front line’. As the first barrage hit the soil of the outlaying island of Sinistra, Vyntra simply laughed it off. It was nothing but a mere feint, designed to draw forces away from the north. Why would Dala’a even attempt an invasion from the sea when there was a perfectly good land route? No, the Grand Army would stay exactly where it was.

Sinistra would never actually fall, but it didn’t need to. Even when General Korval, given command of the ‘safe’ southern sector after contradicting the Autokrator, ordered the withdrawal of the Autocracy’s forces from the island, and neighbouring Dextra, to bolster his troops on the mainland, the garrison of the large Starblaydi base on the island fought on. After several abortive attempts to drive out the Starblaydis the Nedalian commander, unwilling to waste any more lives, simply bypassed Sinistra entirely, but left behind a sizable covering force to counter any assault from the island. Dextra fell without a shot being fired and the path to the Autocracy’s mainland was wide open.

The Nedalian’s hit that path running. Hundreds of troops were thrown at the beaches and died in their droves, killed by the sustained fire of Korvel’s dug in units or under the big guns of the remnants of the Autocracy’s navy, now being used effectively as shore batteries. They were savagely repulsed once and then again. But each time they returned in greater numbers and each time the attackers won slightly more ground. Inch by bloody inch they advanced into the Autocracy . . .
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Posted: Feb 14 2009, 04:59 AM
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Darius Korvel, General of the Autocracy and commander of the Southern Sector, looked at the map spread in front of him and knew in his heart that the situation was hopeless. For fifteen days his outnumbered and outgunned command had heroically thrown back wave after wave of Nedalian attacks. But every one of his soldiers lost was a hammer blow while his opponent’s numbers seemed limitless. But he made sure his expression stayed neutral as he turned to face the officers gathered for the morning briefing.

“Ok gentlemen, does anyone have anything positive to report?”

Silence . . .

“Bloody marvellous. Fine, so give me the bad news.”

A weary looking Captain cleared his throat. “We’re running dangerously low on everything now sir. Food, water, ammo, medical supplies, you name it and we need it.”

“Aren’t we getting resupplied from the depot at Drissa?”

“We were but since the Neds worked out they had free reign in the skies they’ve been bombing our convoys straight to hell.”

“And still nothing from Northern Command?”

“Not for three days now sir.”

Three days. Three days since General Garviel, the High Command’s Director of Strategy, had praised the defence of the south and assured Korvel that the Nedalian attack would soon run out of steam so they could fully commit to their main invasion in the north. Obviously no more troops or aircraft could be spared for the southern sector for that very reason. The deluded Autokrator was still convinced the southern attack was a feint and the cadre of senior officers he had surrounded himself with were clearly all happy to pander to their master’s crazed delusions, condemning their country in the process. Korvel silently hoped that he’d be around just long enough to line up each one of the sycophantic bastards against a wall and have them all shot for crimes against the nation.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a commotion outside. A dishevelled man in a ragged Lieutenant’s uniform pushed past his guards. “Let me through, I need to speak to the General!”

Korvel signalled them to let him past. “What happened to you soldier?”

“Sir.” He managed a tired salute. “The Neds have taken Southport. Their bombers hit the Warspite last night and they stormed the beaches and harbour at first light this morning. I’ve never seen so many troops sir. They hit us hard. My men . . . the whole command. Gone.”

“First light? That was eight hours ago!”

“I’m sorry sir there were Neds everywhere I had to lie low until it was clear.”

“No, you did well Lieutenant. Go get yourself something to eat.”

He watched the man leave, a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. With the fall of Southport the nation was wide open. From there the Nedalians could funnel in their forces and cause major havoc. If they went west they would cut off the most of the Autocracy from its industrial heartland, securing enough supplies in the process to fuel their mighty war machine for months. And east were Drissa and the ‘Bread Basket’. And if Drissa fell Hypocrium would surely follow. Korvel had to act fast. Although what he could do without massive reinforcements . . .

“Signal the withdrawal. We fall back on Drissa. And inform Northern Command. Tell Garviel to either send the Grand Army south or start brushing up on his conversational Nedalian.”
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Posted: Feb 14 2009, 06:24 AM
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OOC: Anyone reading that penultimate paragraph should probably reverse that east & west. And I should probably learn the points of the compass . . .
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Posted: Feb 14 2009, 07:12 PM
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There wasn’t a trace of Korvel’s usual insolence in the message and that worried Garviel. He knew the southern commander had no respect for him and he never missed an opportunity to show it. But this was different. This was a straight up request for reinforcements and notification that his command was abandoning the coast and falling back on Drissa. Garviel was pretty sure that hadn’t been part of the grand strategy and not for the first time the doubts crept back into his thoughts.

“Sir?”

Garviel hadn’t heard anyone approach. He turned to face a young officer, a captain in the intelligence corps.

“Captain?”

The officer cleared his throat. “Sir, we received something I think you should see.” He handed the General a number of aerial photos. He wasn’t sure of the geography but they clearly showed columns of Nedalian troops and armour on the move.

“Where did you get these?”

“From a flyover northeast of Tarsis.”

“Tarsis!”

“Yes sir. The Neds are moving much further and faster than was predicted. They’ve cut Thraxus off from the rest of the country. You have to take these to the Autokrator. We have to act before it’s too late. And there’s more”, he handed over another picture. This one showed cars, vans, vehicles of all shapes and sizes and people, lots of people. “Refugees sir, being pushed further east by the Neds' advance. We believe their heading for the old territory of Cockbill Street. Sir, while we’re sat here waiting doing nothing the rest of the country is falling apart.”

The enormity of what he was seeing was not lost on Garviel. The Autokrator had gone to great pains to ensure his forces in the northwest were isolated from any news from the rest of the Autocracy. But no-one could stop the rumours. And as the days had past there were signs the army was growing increasingly restless. If these pictures got out there would be an outright mutiny.

“Who authorised this?”

“Sir?”, the captain failed to see the relevance. “Well I did but . . .”

“Captain this is a direct violation of the Autokrator’s orders. If you breathe a word of this to anyone there will be consequences. Severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“But General . . .”

“Do I make myself clear captain?”

The captain managed a limp salute in acknowledgement.

“Good, dismissed.”

Garviel watched him leave. This was all happening too fast. He looked down at the photos he still held. It went against every instinct he had but Garviel knew what he had to do. He had to show Vyntra what was going on before it was too late. If it wasn’t already . . .
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Posted: Feb 15 2009, 12:10 PM
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Everything was starting to unravel. Even Vyntra’s most loyal of supporters could finally see it. Men who mere days before wouldn’t have dreamt of standing up to the Autokrator were finding their voices, not to mention their balls. Dissent was in the air all along the western wall as it became clearer by the day that someone had blundered horribly. Dawn was breaking and the phantom Nedalian threat in the northwest was rapidly dissolving into nothing.

“Sign the order Excellency, release the army south.” Thanks to the Autokrator’s information blackout no one was quite sure of the situation in the south or east but the senior commanders were now convinced of one thing, they were in the wrong place.

“Remember who you talk to General.” Vyntra’s eyes narrowed as he faced his military hierarchy in the command room. “I made you, without me you would be nothing. Nothing! And this is the gratitude you show me? All of you! You come in here waving your piece of paper begging me to ‘sign’. I will not! Not! NOT!” He’s eyes burned with fury. He turned his back on them in disgust.

Garviel approached quietly and leant in, keeping his voice low so only the Autokrator could hear. He handed him the photos. “Tarsis, Excellency. And by now no doubt Thraxus too.”

“But it’s only a feint. . .” As close as he was Garviel still struggled to make out exactly what Vyntra had said. But he caught that last word as the Autokrator had trailed off. That small, accursed word that had sent this huge army on a wild goose chase.

“No Excellency, it’s not. We’ve lost the east and the last we heard Korvel had been pushed back to Drissa in the south. If Drissa falls, providing it hasn’t already, Hypocrium falls too.”

Vyntra clenched and unclenched his fist, a cold feeling running through him. Realism was starting to shine though the layers of delusion. How could he have been so wrong? He turned and silently made his way back to his chair at the head of the table that dominated the room. He sat and stared at the piece of paper in front of him. The seconds seem to stretch on forever as the commander’s held a collective breathe. Finally, without a word, Vyntra took up his pen and, with what seemed like a huge effort, scrawled his name at the bottom of the order.

He handed the paper to Garviel and took a long deep breath. “You have your orders.” He said, some steel returning to his voice. Maybe this game wasn’t quite over yet. Maybe there was still time to put right that which he had got so badly wrong. “Now let’s win back this country shall we?”
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Posted: Feb 28 2009, 03:15 PM
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Not so long ago the town would have been considered, relative to the Autocracy’s somewhat grey image, almost idyllic. A pretty collection of houses and shops that had sprung up over the years to cater for the large farming complexes nearby that mark the eastern approaches to the city of Drissa, the Autocracy’s ‘bread basket’. Now palls of smoke hung in the warm evening air and piles of rubble, behind which uniformed men lurked, blotted the once picturesque streets. The crack of automatic weapons and the occasional boom of a mortar round or artillery shell further disturbed the scene. Strangled cries of pain and screams of agony occasionally added to the violent chorus. Where once a country community went happily about its daily business, now every building had become a fortress, every tower a strongpoint and every street or plaza a killing zone for Korvel’s carefully placed troops and heavy weapons.

The general risked a quick glance down the street. The still smoking wreckage of a Nedalian APC sat in the middle of the road, testimony to the recklessness of the driver who had driven merrily down the street totally unaware of what lay beyond. That was until a concealed anti-tank gun had pumped a shell directly into his vehicle's front. A hundred yards in front of the stricken vehicle bodies in Nedalian army uniform marked the furthest advance of the enemy infantry. Movement at the far end of the street suggest another attack was being considered.

“Any word from the other sectors?”

“Mostly quiet sir.” A young lieutenant answered. “Some long range firefights near the church and they’re still flinging shells at our positions around the town hall but we seem to have given the Neds something to stop and think about.”

“Still no sign of armour?”

“None.”

“Well that’s something at least.” And maybe a sign that the Nedalian military was stretching itself too thin. With commitments elsewhere in the region coupled with their drive into the east of the Autocracy the strain would have to tell at some point. And, with Dala’a having sent in her troops almost as liberators for an enslaved population, using their air power on civilian areas was out of the question. Something for which Korvel thanked his lucky stars. He caught movement out the corner of his eye. Across the street one of his soldiers was signalling to him.

“Right, I think it’s time for an evening stroll.” Without waiting for a reply the general charged out of cover and made his way across the street, keeping low behind the makeshift barricades and rubble that littered the area.

“He’s nuts.” The lieutenant said to nobody in particular, shaking his head. “Covering fire!”

Soldiers broke cover around him and laid down fire on a group of buildings at the end of the street, buildings that Nedalian infantry had taken position in. Bullets cracked against crumbling brickwork and what few windows that remained exploded in showers of glass fragments. The return fire was desultory, a couple of stray bullets thudded into the road behind the general but he reached the other side safely and his grey uniformed troops returned to their positions.

Korvel dusted down his black greatcoat while the private who had signalled snapped off a sharp salute.

“Still alive Jenkins? Good man. So what’s so urgent that I have to risk life and limb to hear about it?”

“The captain sir, he got word from the west sir. From the Autokrator.”

“Really? Where is the captain?”

“Through there sir.” He gestured to the building behind him.

“Thank you soldier.” The frame of the door was hanging low, forcing the general to duck as he entered a large room whose pre-war purpose was obvious. “And I find you in a bar Captain Morgan, how very fitting.” He greeted his communications officer.

“Evening sir. Take a look at this.” He handed him a piece of paper. “It came through a few minutes ago.”

CODE
General Korvel.  Commander, Ninth Army
Grand Army moving south east to support you.  Hold position until relieved.  The Autocracy will prevail.


“Is this genuine?”

“If it’s a phoney it’s a damn good one. All the codes and frequencies where spot on.”

“Finally.” Korvel smiled. “No more hiding, no more retreat. Now we show the Neds exactly what we’re capable of.”
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Posted: Mar 26 2009, 02:42 PM
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The aide sucked in a gasping breath as he charged through the rabbit warren of corridors that made up the command bunker. He skipped past puzzled looking staff officers and soldiers, clearly the breaking news hadn’t managed to penetrate the self manufactured information black hole his glorious leader had cocooned himself in. But this was big, huge in fact and nothing could stop it as it spread across the entire nation like wildfire.

He finally stopped in the antechamber outside the bunker’s centre command room. “I need to see General Garviel. Now.”

“The general is in a meeting with the Autokrator and cannot be disturbed.” The desk sergeant said without even looking up. “Come back later.”

“This can’t wait.” And he bent down and whispered something in the sergeant’s ear. The man behind the desk’ body stiffened and he scrambled for the phone on his desk. Taking a deep breath he composed himself.

“There’s an officer out here to see the general. I know he is but he’s going to want to hear this. Pretty bloody important, yes. Thank you.”

A moment later the command room door opened and the Autocracy’s Director of Strategy emerged into the anteroom, furious as being dragged from his master’s side. “Oh this had better be good.”

“My apologies sir but you really should hear this. His Excellency should too.”

“I believe i’ll be the judge of that lieutenant. So what is it?”

Again the young staff officer kept his voice low. Garviel’s eyes widened as he listened. Finally he turned to the door and beckoned the officer to follow him. “Come with me.”

Inside the dimly lit command room a group of senior officers, uniforms heavy with golden braid and decorations talked in low voices while they studied a series of maps spread out on the large table in the centre of the room. At one end Vyntra himself sat behind a desk and looked up from the file he had been reading. “General? You look pale. Are you unwell?”

Garviel walked across to the far wall and pressed a button on the big screen that dominated it. “There’s something you have to see. Which channel?” The question was directed at the lieutenant.

“All of them.”

Garviel grimaced at the answer and pushed another button without even looking. The screen flashed into life.


QUOTE
"I am Tiberius Starblayde, the Lord-Protector of Starblaydia.

"I have re-taken power from the evil hands of Viannor and, though she remains at large, has been removed from all power in Starblaydia. The war she took our great nations down was wholly wrong and I am speaking to you all - everyone in AO - now, to say two things of great importance.

"Firstly, Starblaydia will initiate a full cease-fire beginning immediately. All military assets will be withdrawn from occupied territories at once, with no further offensive operations being carried out. Our armies, illegally occupying Legalese, the Legal Republic and parts of the Kingdom of England and Scottish Republic with will be completely withdrawn within Starblaydia's borders. We shall not fight any more, no victory can be won in this regional war. It is a year and a day since Viannor ordered this nation's armies into battle, and so I now order them home. I would have this war over, and peace to begin again, and I call on all nations to make this so . . .



Vyntra stood slowly, his hands pushing down on the desk as if he’d fall without the support, his face entirely drained of colour. “That’s not possible. He’s dead.”

“A ceasefire?” One of the generals present said. “With Starblaydia pulling out of the conflict that would leave us . . .”

“At the mercy of the entire SDL.” Garviel completed the sentence. “Excellency?”

“He’s dead.” Vyntra shook his head. “Tiberius Starblayde died. This is impossible.”

“Well he looks remarkably spritely for a corpse.” Garviel said, shocked at his own insubordinate tone. “What do we do now?” He had no idea where this left any of them.

“Leave me.”

“But Excellency we . . .”

“Out. Out. Get out!” The final two words were spoken with the fury of a man who had risen to the top only to slip all the way back down, and just when it looked as if there could be one final salvation, that too was viciously snatched away. They left him and he sank back down into his chair. “It wasn’t meant to be this way.”
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