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Post self-deleted by The Dolphin Isles.
Notok, 03:45 Local Time
Major Zorane Turgenev stepped out of his temporary field hq to observe the night sky, which was particularly clear of the coastal overcast that night. He was interrupted however when one of the men under his command, Lt. Vladimir Zytsov, alerted him that reports from the radar unit in the town of Dudovka told that they were tracking an aircraft that appeared to be cruising at an altitude of thirty-three thousand feet. Vladimir mentioned that it could be a transport aircraft moving communist forces to another side of the country. "How long have they been tracking it for?" Zorane turned and asked Vladimir.
"Only for a few minutes now, sir. Though we can't be sure if they were the only ones to first pick it up." He replied. Zorane seemed to ponder for a moment.
"Our batteries... are they ready to fire if necessary? Because from what I'm hearing it sounds like they've already entered our area of engagement." The two then stood there staring off into the night sky, wondering if maybe they could catch a glimpse of the plane that had been picked up by their radar units.
"So sir, I am assuming that we have the orders to engage them? Considering we can't identify them, and they've crossed into our airspace." Vladimir asked the major.
"You would be assuming correctly, Vladimir." With that, Vladimir saluted the major, and quickly made his way over to the firing station where the SAM operators were gathered around, awaiting for the order to fire or not fire. Zorane on the other hand, was still standing where Vladimir had left him, smoking his cigarette. He was back to staring into the night sky when he was caught off-guard by the screeching launch of one of the Kub's 3M9M4 missiles being fired into the night sky. He watched it as it continued upward into the night sky, becoming ever smaller as it did so. What followed was a distant explosion and bright light that looked and sounded like lightning. Whoever was on that plane, was dead now.
<DIS Kiama, southern coast of Nogovastan, 04:20>
The sound of jet engines roared on the flight deck of the carrier as the waning crescent moon peaked between the clouds. A dim, orange glow bathed the jets airplanes on deck with faint green lights glowing inside the cockpits of two fighter jets aligned with the launch catapults with small barriers rising behind them. The jet engine of one of the jets lit up the carrier deck as it fired up.
Aparna, the pilot of that fighter jet, a twin-seated Viper D, held tight onto her controls as her plane was sent forward and she was pushed back into her seat and her plane into the darkness of the night. She would soon be over the airspace of Nogovastan, and so she turned on every jamming device she had available to her and her weapons officer, Kuldeep scanned his instrumentation constantly.
Her mission was simple, destroy the crash site of an airliner deep inside enemy territory with cruise missiles and to do so without being seen. Meanwhile, the rest of the carrier air group was conducting air strikes through the night and continuing on to the following morning on more immediate targets. The targets were all Nationalist military positions surrounding the Monarchist stronghold of Novrossiyak. It appears that 
The Dolphin Isles had chosen a side in the ongoing civil war in Nogovastan and would be supporting in more ways than just diplomatically.
<Airspace above Nogovastan, 04:38 local time>
Captain Kishan Kumar stared out the windshield of his B24 Lancer stealth bomber at the veins of light that were strewn across the hilly Nogovan countryside. Kumar was part of a four strong bomber group that had left an airbase near Anduze, The Dolphin Isles about nine hours and multiple tanker refuelings ago. Now, they were high above a hostile territory controlled by the nationalist rebels of the country relying on their stealth to evade the detection of hostile radars. Their targets were spread all along the country with 24 albatross cruise missiles each.
They neared their release point and offensive weapons officer Kapila opened the three bomb bay doors. Several clicking sounds could be heard as the clamps on the missiles detached one by one and the faint sound of their rocket motors could be heard firing up below them. It wasn't long before the flight leader could be heard on the radio saying "Good work Ijen. Time to head back home."
A loud alarm rocked the relatively quiet cabin. "Ijen-2, SA-6!" Pilot Kishan yelled on the radio. "We're being painted by radar!"
"Bomb bay doors are stuck open!" yelled back Kapila.
"SAM launch! Ijen-2 breaking right!" yelled Kishan again as the whole jet lurched right and began to accelerate. "Two SAMs detected!" A sonic boom rang out across the hills as Kishan pushed the plane to go past mach 1. "SAM-1 missed! Third SAM fired! Ijen-2 defending!"
An explosion rocked the plane.
"Ijen-2, status?" echoed into the earpieces of the crew.
Kishan maintained a death grip on his controls as he pushed the the stick even further right. "Ijen-2 egressing southeast.... Ijen-2 losing engine power."
"New SAM detected!" echoed into the radios again.
Kishan kept pulling on the stick, but the plane was losing speed incredibly fast and had already dropped to well under 700 mph. He immediately blurted out to the crew and on the radio "Ijen-2, eject! eject!" Kishan reached between his legs and pulled on the yellow loop between them.
In less than two second, a complex process would begin and end. Electronics on board the jet began to fry, the canopies above the four crew members ejected upwards, and air bags inflated holding their heads in place before rockets ignited sending them tumbling into the cold night air. In a few more seconds, the plane was hit with another missile, the crew just barely out of harm's reach.
The crew would slowly drift to the ground, but they would be hundreds of kilometres from friendly faces and the land below them was fraught with search teams full of angry Nogovan nationalists. The future was far from decided however as the crew landed into the quiet, forested hillsides.
CIA Director Yuki Stanforth walks past security and into the office of the president. The Secretary of Energy and his staff were going over some things when she walked in. She motions for them to leave and without hesitation they close their folders and walk out of the room. Stanforth stands in front of the President’s desk and sides a folder across.
“I received a communique from one of my surveillance teams in Nogovastan. They saw a UADI B-24 get shot down during the bombing campaign. They are requesting to retrieve the crew and extract them. They are confident they can do it.”
“What’s the extraction plan?” President Ryan asks.
“Right now we would give them a crash course on how to use the teams jet wings. Once they can fly they’d stay low and avoid populated areas and get as close to the coast as possible. From there they’d fly as far as they can and wait for a UADI pickup. We can monitor their progress with the wing’s GPS trackers once they are far enough out to activate them. A sub pickup would be preferable but that’s on them at that point.”
“What about our team. Isn’t that their primary means of escape if discovered?”
“It is but once they send off the flight crew I’m pulling that team. Doing this mission puts them too at risk of discovery as agents. They’d lie, cheat, and steal their way back to us at that point. Most likely from the sea with the way the situation is developing there.”
“And you’re confident they’d make it out?”
“I’m 80% sure they’d get the flight crew out. I’m 90% sure they can get themselves out.”
“Does that impact our intelligence mission in the area?”
“It’d slow down our observation of the conflict but that’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“Do you have a backup plan?”
“We have a few prototype stealthed MH-85 helicopters we have only tested. They have excellent radar defeat but are slower and harder to handle than the base helicopter. We could deploy two from a cruiser off shore and fly fast and low to an open area of the coast to extract the flight crew and my team.”
“How likely is that to succeed?”
“That’s the hail marry pass sir. If that doesn’t work or the helos are detected we’ll either have to get involved or leave our guys on the ground and see if UADI can get the job done.”
“What if we lend the helos to the dolphins and have them execute the extraction.”
“That’s a good theory but they don’t have pilots that are familiar enough with these helos for it to be viable.”
“You have my authorization to execute both plans. Get the helos in place and get your team moving to pick up the crew. I want live updates on this as they come in. Call me at any time.”
“Yes sir.” Stanforth says as she picks up her folder and leaves. On her way out she sends the energy secretary back in.
Faronnia had finally been defeated. Castannica had finally been subdued.
The combined forces of Cream sauce and Dilafayn had managed to defeat all opposing factions, and reunify the former lands of the Atkins Empire into one cohesive state yet again. From in front of the newly reconstructed Chapel of Bruma, Christopher Cormack, lauded by his citizens and Creamsauciologist clergy as the savior of the nation, has declared the formation of the Cream Sauce Confederacy. While there has been much death and destruction, on this day every citizen of Cream Sauce celebrates.
The Dolphin Isles and Dilafayn
A fishing boat appeared in a harbor on a foggy night in Porpoise isle. Its spotlights shined on the piers of the port city's marina. The slowly reeled themselves in alongside the dock. The crew disembarked walking past a lone man waiting on the pier. One of the crew passed him saying "We had a good catch this time." Five crew left a few weeks prior but more than fifteen crew came back.
Mastaev Sovikov heightened the collar of his raincoat and walked into the nearest fisherman's bar in Prinsen, Porpoise isle. "I think I'll like this town," he said as he downed his tenth discounted vodka shot for the nice courtesy of the Dolphinesian relaxed regulations and subsidies for the maritime industries of the nation.
It all seemed so surreal
A nation torn by years of warfare had cast off the chains of Atkins oppression, and emerged victorious in a six sided struggle for dominance. Christopher Cormack had reforged the nation of Talos, a feat that many believed was simply not possible.
And now he was dead
Moments ago, he had been in the midst of crowds in Bruma, celebrating with the masses for the successful Risorgimento, being called a hero and worshipped by civilian after civilian. Now he was being rushed to Bruma Hospital with a bullet wound to his head. It was too late though.
Armed guerrillas had already begun rising up in major cities again, rallying to the flag of the Communist Party of Cream Sauce. Is this the fate of Cream Sauce? To be torn apart again and again? Was the nation to be plunged into war yet again?
Only time will tell what fate has in store for the now leaderless nation
The Dolphin Isles and Porpoise isle
The proud nation of Dilafayn has announced a week of mourning for the great leader of Cream sauce and those that were lost in the great Grekan Wars. The death of Chris Cormack and the people responsible for this must be punished. As such, the nation's armed forces stand ready at the border to protect what Cormack spent his life building. All that is required is permission from his government.
Agent Talia Harper opens her secure laptop and opens her email. A red highlighted email is at
the top of the list,
From: DIRCIA
Subject: (TS\\HI) Operation Gaspard
Attachment: (TS\\HI) Scouted Routes.pdf
Classified (TS\\HI)
Operation Gaspard is a go. Attached is a list of recommended routes scouted by satellite. After extraction, your mission is scrubbed. Return to us as soon as possible. No support outside of satellite updates will be available. You have hours to recover the flight crew before they are
located by locals. Necessary force is authorized to complete the mission. God speed.
Classified (TS\\HI)
Talia closes the laptop.
“Guys.” She calls out to her team. “The mission is a go. We can collect the flight crew. Grab the spectrum analyzer and any other field gear that would help. We’ll bring them back here and train them before taking a path in the document they sent. I only need two plus me in the pickup. Let’s get four sets of clothes and some blankets for them. The other three will start scouting the routes and make sure they’re clear. I want everyone armed too. If something goes south we will be
leaving as soon as possible.” Talia picks up her two cell phones. “Everyone stay strapped. If something goes down, send the code word and we’ll all bug out.”
The team, who had just started eating breakfast, all nod in agreement and silently being packing and preparing for their new mission.
Somewhere in the countryside, outside the town of Chistal
General Slobodan Martić held his binoculars up to his eyes, observing the vast and empty countryside, hoping to maybe catch something. It had been a few hours since the enemy's bomber had been shot down over their territory. However, with the crash site secured, and no sign of any of the pilots, the General had been forced to disperse his brigada in hopes that they could locate someone or something. He had personally spoken to Milo before being assigned to his current task. If anyone was found, they were to be captured alive, and brought back to the current Nationalist capital, Serjitopska. This shouldn't be this hard, Martić thought, how far could they have gotten from the crash site? Not far enough probably. He took his binoculars away from his eyes and placed them back into the pocket in his vest where he kept them. Turning around, he left to go sit and converse with some of his men that had remained around the crash site area with him. Many had been collecting pieces of the bomber as souvenirs to show their friends and family.
Martić began to doubt that any of the pilots would be captured considering that they had barely anything to go off of concerning their whereabouts. However, there was one thing that gave them a little bit of hope in their search for the elusive enemy, and that was the information given by the residents of the town of Chistal. They had reported that after waking up to a loud explosion, they witnessed something human slowly falling from the sky in the direction of the nearby woods. It was just enough information to warrant the dispatch of a platoon size element of men, supported by a few mechanized elements of the brigada (a few pragas, a truck, and a BMP). There had been no report yet from those the general had sent to search the woods. It had gotten to the point that Martić was now debating asking for helicopter support to assist in searching the area. Before he could do so however, he was approached by a radioman who said there was someone on the other end who needed to speak with him immediately. "Hello, this is General Slobodan Martić. Who am I speaking to?"
"General!" The voice on the other end responded frantically.
"Again, who is this?" Martić questioned.
"This is Lieutenant Derkanović. I was put in charge of the search party sent into the woods to find the pilot." Replied Derkanović.
"I was just thinking about you all." Martić told him. "God knows how much I waited for an update from you brave men."
"Everything is going just fine, thank God, it's going just fine, sir." Derkanović sounded ecstatic as he spoke to the General about the subject. "Sir, I am happy to report that we got him! God willing we got him!"
"Bless you, Derkanović, and your men. I await your swift and safe return. God is a Nogovan and he will protect us."
"God is a Nogovan." With that, the General gave the radio back to its operator, and ordered the men that were near around him. With a smile on his face, and with a booming voice, he proclaimed that one of the treacherous pilots who dared to fly over their homeland was caught. A roar of cheers came from the men, all of which held their hands into the air, displaying the three fingered salute that had become apart of the Nationalists and their struggle across Nogovastan. When Derkanović's search party returned they were greeted by cheerful fighters, and the sounds of the popular Nationalist song, We Nogovans are Supermen. Strewn around were bottles of empty beer and cigarette packs. There were even civilians sympathetic to the Nationalist cause partaking in the festivities brought on by the pilot's capture.
Nestled in the back of the truck Derkanović rode in with, was the pilot of the downed aircraft. His head was covered with a hood, and he had been stripped down to his underwear. Any wounds that he had on him had been half assedly patched up by his captors that found him. Instead of letting him remain out of sight from the crowd that had celebrated his capture, Derkanović ordered that two of his men drag him out to show their comrades. They did as they were ordered. The pilot would be forcefully dragged from the truck and brought to face the people whose nation he had bombed. Derkanović's men would throw him to the ground before a camera, taking the bag off of his head, they would kneel next to him, grabbing him by the hair and raising his face up to the camera. A three fingered salute would be waved to the camera by the men holding him. The General would walk over to inspect the pilot, then turn to ask Derkanović where he was from. "He's from The Dolphin Isles, sir." The Lieutenant paused for a moment before striking the pilot in the gut with the butt of his Zastava and continuing. "Komavi scum, Slobo, that's what he is."
"Calm down now, Lieutenant. I've already arranged for a helicopter to come and take him back to the capital. Remember, Milo wants him alive so that we can use him for possible bargaining in the future." The General turned to walk away but quickly looked back at Derkanović and the others gathered around. "Give him what he deserves, just don't kill him." With that, the General left to discuss the massive upcoming offensive into the north-eastern part of the country, currently held by the Communists. Meanwhile, the men took this opportunity to continue celebrating their small, but symbolic victory. Children of the village came out to look at the wreckage and pilot (who had been put on display at gunpoint for all to see). One memorable moment to all was a chant that arose from someone in the crowd, and soon spread to all, We Nogovans are supermen! Waging a war against the world! For holy war we are ready! Even if it take a century! Soon after, the pilot was taken away by a helicopter on route to the Nationalist capital of Serjitopska to be locked up and used for bargaining by Milo's government.
Post self-deleted by Nation for Mutual Security.
Talia scans the wreck of the UADI B-24. She notes the canopy and seats are missing which means all crew ejected. She returns to her truck and Gary shows her the satellite photos depicting three persons moving into a forest south of the wreck. Talia starts the truck and drives to the edge of the woods.
“Gary stay with the truck. Fred come with me. This isn’t far from the crash so they might be injured. Call the other two and tell them to get a medical kit ready when we get back.”
Gary nods and sends the message. Talia and Fred walk into the woods for about fifteen minutes before coming across the some of the flight crew. Talia hands her AK-107 to Fred and approaches the crew.
“Hello. I am a friend. We are here to help.” She says in fluent Komavi.
The crew all draw their weapons and aim at Talia. “Who are you? How did you find us? Why are you here?” The one wearing a Captain insignia demands.
“I’m Talia Harper. Nation for Mutual Security Intelligence. We saw your plane get hit and came to extract you. I see one of your crew has a wrap on their leg. Can he walk?” Talia replies
The crew relax. “I’m Captain Varga, I’m the co-pilot, my weapons officer was hit by shrapnel when the plane went down. Do you have a vehicle nearby?”
“Yes. Come with me and we’ll take you to our safe house and brief you there. I have civilian clothes in the truck so you don’t stick out as much.”
South of the safe house, Agent Garrett is fueling the jet wings and watching his mini drone recon the routes that were pre-selected. So far they’ve been clear of checkpoints. Only minimal traffic and it’s been locals only. He finishes fueling and hears a vehicle pull up outside. He grabs his M7 pistol and goes to the door. He sees Talia, Fred, and Gary with found Komavi. He holsters his pistol and walks outside.
“Medical kit is in the kitchen. I cleared the table. I’ll recall Dan and have him take a look at that leg.” Garrett says as the wounded officer limps inside.
“How are we with the wings?” Talia asks Garrett
“They’re topped up. They have two hours of flight time. If they stay low and don’t run into a storm off the coast they should get far enough away to get picked up.” Garrett replies.
“We don’t have any strong winds or storms predicted. They should be fine. Do you have a quick way to train them on the use?”
“The two pilots should pick up easy. The other, I’m not sure. It’ll be a steep learning curve.”
“We’re getting them out one way or another. Have we gotten anything from back home recently?”
“We got an update on a contingency if the wing plan doesn’t work out. Let’s go inside and brief the crew on the plans. I count three crew. Those planes have four. Where’s the last guy?”
“He wasn’t with them. They don’t know where he ended up either. It was too dark and they won’t use their radios because they’re too deep and they’d be detected.
“I’ll go with Fred to look for him. I’ll take my drone too. Thermals will be useful.” “Ok. Be back before dark. I don’t need you two getting caught up on anything.” Talia and Gary walk into the house while Garrett and Fred leave to look for the pilot.
“Alright, our plan of action right now is to give you guys a crash course on how to fly our jet wings. Are you all familiar with what those are?” Talia says to the crew.
They nod. Talia goes over the basics of how to use them, flight time, speeds, and basic controls.
“Now, if we aren’t able to get you out of the country that way, NFMS has a pair of prototype stealth helicopters on their way to us now. That is our last resort outside stealing a boat and making a run for it.”
“How long will it take for those helicopters to get in place to execute a recovery?” Varga asks.
“At this point it’s unknown. We can keep you here and in our other safe house for a while but this entire country is unsafe at the moment. And unfortunately you all look very Komavi and I can’t hide that. It’s best for you to stay out of sight and learn fast. The jet wings are the best option at the moment. We’ve scouted routes to the coast and have a clear line for now. That can change quickly but if we get you to the coast and you fly away, you can get picked up. GPS form our jet wings will be relayed from our command to your ships in the area so they can get you.”
“Do we have a way to communicate while in flight?”
“Unfortunately, no. We use our helmets built in comms gear to talk and we’ll be needing those if things go south on our own exfil.”
“You won’t be coming with us?” Lieutenant Kapila exclaims from the table.
“No. We don’t have enough wings to all fly out otherwise we would. We’re trained for this type of thing and you aren’t. So, you take the easy way and we’ll make our own way.”
“No. That’s not acceptable!” Kapila protests.
“Enough Lieutenant, that’s the plan, and we’re sticking with it.” Varga says to Kapila
Dan walks in the house and sees the crew sitting around the living room with Kapila laid out on the kitchen counter. We walks over to her without saying a word and beings to assess the damage.
New map update by Ionona. Please enjoy responsibly and make sure to thank him.
Recreated by: Ionona and The Dolphin Isles
Special thanks to Janusus for the original landmasses. This map was reworked and updated to pixel-perfect UHD by Ionona and The Dolphin Isles to better suit the region.
Additional Information:
Continental Names
Eastern Continent: Dominia
Northwestern Continent: Aleria
Southern Continent: Grecia
Picture information:
Size: Source 4096x2160 (Cinema 4K), exported at 300ppi
Bit Depth: 32-bit Color
Source file type: .PNG
An imgur link to the map without any markings can be found 
here.
Landmasses have been altered in the past in order to better accommodate nations, so feel free to consult with Ionona primarily, or The Dolphin Isles if you have changes in mind in this topic.
The following items would be nice to know about your nation in order to add it to the map. Please telegram Ionona primarily, or The Dolphin Isles with this information whenever you wish and Ionona or The Dolphin Isles will show you what they made for you and await your approval prior to actually implementing it into the final map. We will try our best to create you the perfect national representation.
DISCLAIMER: Not all requests can be accommodated due to roleplay and/or technical reasons.
Size
(Required) This will already be covered if you outline your nation like mentioned in the location requirement. If you do not provide an outline, either say about how long you wish your nation to be when you describe it. This doesn’t have to be a detailed description. Even “large” or “small” would be good enough. Excessively large claims will be requested to downsize prior to them being added if the claim deemed too large and obtrusive towards other players (This is a non-issue unless someone says something silly like they own 90% of the main continent).
Political Map Color
(Not required) This is just a question based on what color you want your nation to have in the political map. Please try to differentiate your color from those of your soon-to-be neighbor nations to help aid map clarity and readability. If no color information is given, a majority color from your flag is likely to be applied unless it is already in use nearby your requested location.
The most direct way to be added to the map is to send a telegram to Ionona primarily, or The Dolphin Isles. Sending a telegram with us as both as the recipients is preferred.
All three map images are free for personal use. If you wish to add to it (like The Dolphin Isles did with its 'detailed' maps), feel free to download the maps and edit them. These maps are meant to be a community resource for our amazing region. However, please do not repost these maps that are free of any alterations. These maps have taken a team of fellow NS users a combined time commitment over one-hundred hours to create. Please respect their collective works as you would have someone do unto you.
Changelog
Last Updated 31MAR2020
Replaced Sips Dynasty at about two-thirds scale
Last Updated 27MAR2020
Removed Sips Dynasty, replaced with white-space, nation of Oceanum.
Added national territory to Nesearan in North Grecia.
Nation for Mutual Security, Foledonia, Meatton, Ionona, and 1 otherNogovastan
Fred pilots the small drone the team has while Gary drives down a small road east of the crash site. Fred switches to the thermal camera to scan a patch of woods.
“Gary, I have a limping male. Looks to be military age. He’s leaving the woods. Why’d he do that?”
Fred shrugs. Gary switches to the normal camera and zooms in. “Ya that’s our guy. His left leg and arm look to be injured. Wait. There’s people behind him. He’s being chased. I’m calling Talia.” Gary takes out his phone and dials Talia. “Hey, we got the pilot on the drone but he’s being chased. I can’t ID the people chasing yet but they’re catching up rapidly.”
“Do not engage. Observe and record what you can. You have a surveillance kit in the toolbox get the parabolic mic and a camera and record everything. I’m recording the drone camera now from here.” Talia hangs up.
“Fred, get up to that building there. The roof is a good spot to watch this unfold. Bring your rifle and optic. I don’t want to use it but if it’s only these three chasing him I’ll take that risk.”
Fred complies and the pair make their way to the roof of an abandoned tenant building. Fred shoulders his rifle and watches the action through the rifle scope. Gary set’s up the long range mic and sets up a camera. Gary can hear the men yelling in Nogovastani. No surprise there. One of the men catches up to the pilot and tackles him. Gary dials Talia. “You seeing this?”
“Yes. I don’t think we can do anything.”
“What? It’s just three guys. Fred can take them out from here and I’ll pick him up in the truck.”
“Look at the drone feed. It’s not just three guys anymore. Those were just the three that saw him. There is a company of nationalist’s right behind them. Stay hidden and do not interfere. This is above us now.” Talia hangs up.
“Dang it.” Gary says.
“I have a shot on the two.” Fred says.
“We can’t interfere.”
“What? And just let them take him?”
“It’s not just them. There’s a company behind them.”
“F***. So we literally have to just watch.”
“Ya. I don’t like it either.”
The pair silently watch and record as the pilot is kicked several times before what looked to be an officer runs up and stops the assault.
“Who are you?” The officer demands in Nogovan.
“I am Major Kishan of the United Archipelago of the Dolphin Isles Air Force. Date of Birth August 21st 1989. Serial number 1556570871”
“He’s one of them!” a soldier shouts as he aims his rifle. “Kill him. He’s an imperial!”
“Calm down. We won’t be killing him today. Get him up. Put him in a UAZ. We’re taking this one prisoner.” The officer says as he lowers the soldier’s rifle. Two of the soldier pick up the Major and toss him in the back of a rundown jeep. A bag is placed over his head and the jeep leaves the area.
Talia swears as she watched the pilot get taken by a nationalist group. She picks up her phone
and dials Gary. “Hey get back here. We can’t do anything for him now.”
“What do you mean! We could follow and track there to where he’s being held for UADI SF.”
“No that’s too dangerous. You could get captured or killed. I need you both back here. If he’s
smart he’d have turned on his transponder as soon as he go found. That’s how UADI will find
him.”
“We’re on our way back.” Gary hangs up. Talia goes outside to watch Victor and Garrett train the two pilots on the operation of jet wings. Dan finishes tying a brace on Kapila’s wounded leg. Dan catches Talia’s glance and says.
“No broken bone. Just a deep laceration. The muscle is damaged but it’ll heal with time. This brace can hook into the wing’s harness when it’s time and allow him to fly but he’ll have to cut some straps when they pull the chute. Otherwise he could get caught if it doesn’t separate cleanly.”
“As long as he’s confident he’ll be able to do it and not drown.” Talia looks at Kapila who nods.
“You think you got a hang of it Captain?” Talia says to Varga.
“Oh you know. Flying is all the same. Just physics and luck really. This is leaning more towards luck though. If my first flight is going to be life or death I think my chances are good.”
Talia flashes a smile before gathering them all in a huddle of sorts. “I have some bad news. The team I sent to find your pilot found him. But, they didn’t find him first.” Talia pulls out her tablet and starts the video of Major Kishan getting tackled and captured.
“Those Bastards!” Kapena exclaims.
“We knew this was a possibility. We just didn’t want to believe it. As of now just you three will be exfiltrating.” Talia says.
“What about my pilot?” Kapila asks. “We can’t just leave him. Can’t you chase those people and rescue him?”
“I’m happy you believe us to be capable of that but our skill set isn’t combat. We aren’t SPECTREs. I didn’t want to keep this from you only to have you learn later we knew all along. Listen, the best thing for you three to do is learn how to fly these things the best you can before we leave for the coast. Once you get picked up by your guys you can tell them everything and give them this.” Talia hand the captain a hard plastic case. “It’s full of our intelligence data we’ve been collecting. The last thing I put on there was this video, the location of that interaction, and the location of your wreck. If you ensure this disk gets to your intelligence agency or my own, I will assure you they will do everything in their power to get your man back. If not, they won’t even know he’s alive.”
The flight crew solemnly nods
Captain Franks walks onto the bridge of the NFMSS Savanah. The phone next to his chair rings and he answers it.
"Captain." He says into the small red phone.
"Sir, TAO, I have a small air contact approaching our stern. It doesn't match any known signatures and just appeared on our radar seconds ago. It's roughly 10 meters off the deck and traveling at around 200 km/h."
"So it's a helicopter or drone?"
"Unknown sir."
"Have you hailed it?"
"Negative sir. I called you as soon as it was reported."
"Set weapons posture one. Lock it up. I'll hail it." The Captain hangs up the phone and grabs the bridge to bridge radio and dials the international emergency frequency. "This is Captain Franks of the Nation for Mutual Security Ship Savanah. Unknown contact at 185 relative, identify yourself and adjust course to 210 true. Failure to do so will be met with lethal action."
Static over the air before a confident reply comes back.
"This is Major Gavin Hawk, my crew and I are flying a prototype stealth MH-85. We have orders to land on your ship and orders for you. Behind me 50km is a second bird is the same type. Requesting permission to land."
Captain Franks thinks about it for a short time. It was pecurliar that his own two helos had been removed days prior during his patrol. "You and your follow on bird are cleared to land. Do not exit your aircraft. I will meet you personally."
On the flight deck, boatswain mates prepare to receive two mystery aircraft. The Captain and four Masters at Arms stand armed with M7 pistols awaiting the aircraft. A muffled buzzing is heard as a black, angular helicopter roughly shaped like an MH-85 comes close to the cruiser and lands. The Captain and his escorts approach the cockpit of the helicopter.
"Identify yourself Airman." the Captain says.
The pilot produceds his NFMS Air Force ID. "Nice to see you too sir. I have a special guest in the back waiting for you."
The Captain begrudgingly walks to the cabin door. The door slowly slides open and a two star Admiral steps out. "Greetings captain. I'm Rear Admiral Stahlings. Office of Naval Intelligence. I'm not here and neither is my ride. Take me to your quarters and I'll brief you further."
The Captain, stunned by seeing a two star Admiral step out of the mysterious helicopter, nods and leads the Admiral to his quarters. Shortly after the first helo is moved into the hanger, the second comes in for final approach.
"First things first Captain, I apologize for the cloak and dagger stuff but we need to move fast and quietly. As you know, the Dolphins have begun an air campaign in Nogovastan. One of their Lancers was shot down. The crew survived and was picked up by one of our CIA teams on the ground in the area. We are the secondary method of extraction. Your ship, with appropriot measures, can get close enough to the coast for us to penetrate several dozen kilometers inland and extract the pilots and our team. Should it become necessary I've been given the authority to protect our assets by any means necessary. Up to and including a nuclear Hatchet missile strike. I won't be using that option but it gives you the gist of the importance that has been given to protecting my assets."
"So, what you're saying is we are going to violate a sovereign nations waters, airspace, and boarder, to extract a covert CIA team and several downed pilots. Risking international reprisal and possibly dragging our nation into the conflict."
"In so many words yes."
"That, is probably the Spartan thing I've ever heard."
"We don't leave people behind Captain. Weather they be ours or allies. If we have a chance at getting them out we take it"
"I'll execute your orders sir. Weather I agree or not. But, for the record, if this endangers my ship or her crew, I will protect them at all costs."
"I'd expect nothing less from a Captain of your status."
City of Potzokrazde
The paramilitary commander bent down to face the wounded communist fighter who had been captured by his men, shortly after being removed from an apartment complex his squad size element of men was occupying. A group of nationalist fighters passed by the prisoners and their captors, giving the usual nationalist three-fingered salute/greeting to their comrades, giving a mocking smile to the prisoners. Returning the gesture, the paramilitary commander then quickly motioned for the passing fighters to come over. "Gentlemen, I hope that you have been enjoying yourselves while we walk the path of liberation." Joked the paramilitary commander with a smile.
The group of fighters laughed in response before one of them answered back. "Oh yes we have brother, God willing we'll have the rest of the city captured by tomorrow, and the rest of these Hrstevi (racial slur used by Nogovans to refer to the Zetrovi of Nogovastan) communists will be dead or gone." The fighter made sure to look directly at the captured communists after he was finished talking.
"You know, I feel like I have not seen your unit before, comrades. Tell me, who are you with?" Questioned the paramilitary commander, while also pointing to the patch on one of their shoulders. It seemed to depict a wolf's head with a dagger in its mouth.
"Oh us?" Answered the soldier. "Well, we're one of the newly formed special police units, stationed in areas to eliminate anti-Miloist sentiment and any type of terrorist activity." The special policeman then leaned in close to whisper something into the paramilitary commander's ear. "And, between you and me, we're here to be the cleanup crew for scum like the Hrstevi." He backed up and pointed to the prisoners. In the distance gunshots could be heard as the heavy fighting for the city continued between the communists and nationalists. As the two continued to talk a few tanks passed by them, one stopping to allow its commander to pop out of the hatch and look down the road into the smoke-filled city. Popping out with his binoculars, the commander rested his hand on the hatch and peered down into the city. His tank was covered in makeshift rubber armor for added protection, and bold words that read, ZETROGORSK OR BUST, and, GOD GUIDED SHELLS! NEVER MISS! These extra cosmetics are common among nationalist vehicles, so it was no surprise to the men seeing something like this drive into battle.
"Well I guess I should leave these prisoners with you, comrades. Please, know that these men killed four of mine trying to take this apartment complex. Remember what Milo has told us all... one-hundred of them for each one of us... Remember Setomevka." With that, the paramilitary commander would order his men to move in with the tanks for their continued push into the city, giving the special policemen the Nogovan salute as they moved towards the fighting.
"What to do with you now?" The special police sergeant asked himself, scratching his chin. One fighter of the captured communists looked up at the men dressed in all black with berets to match, and as the special police went to secure the area, and their sergeant went to answer his radio, he turned to one of the other prisoners lying down next to him.
"Are we going to die?" He was straight to the point with his question.
"More than likely, my friend. These animals, how do you say, don't like us because of our ideology, but hate us because of who we are."
"Zetrovs?"
"Correct." After realizing his situation, the communist fighter would try to talk to his new captors and convince them that he shouldn't be killed. Standing up, the young fighter would slowly make his way over to the Nogovans, his hands clasped together, and his voice shaky with fear. The police sergeant, noticing one of the prisoners coming towards him, quickly kicks him to the ground, quickly aiming his rifle at him. The other policemen would do the same.
"Please." Begged the communist, grabbing at the pant legs of the policemen who backed away in disgust. "Please don't! Please don't my brothers!" Cried the communist as he put his face in the dirt, curling up into a ball. As he did so, the policemen who had raised their weapons at him, now lowered them and turned to one another. They burst out laughing and began to mock their communist prisoner.
"Brothers!?" The policemen continued to mock the cowering prisoner, asking him if they were really brothers then why isn't he fighting for them? Instead of shooting him though, the sergeant orders them to load him into the back of a truck along with the others. For now, they are alive.
Serjitopska, Leopetyiv Prison
A door would slowly creak open to a small room which contained only a mattress and a bucket in the corner. The room looked decrepit and old but somewhat well maintained, albeit, there was some provocative graffiti still on the wall, left over from old political inmates. After being dragged from the mattress on the floor and into a chair, the nationalist guards would await the arrival of their commanding officer and the camera crew. When the interview could finally begin there was an attempt to make it appear that conditions were better than they really were.
“Who are you?” Asked the officer.
“I am Major Kishan.” The prisoner responded.
“Do you have a family back home, Kishan?” Questioned the officer. “And please, look into the camera when you speak.”
“I will not answer that question.”
“You will answer the questions we have provided.”
“I do not have to.” The officer gave him a look of annoyance from behind the camera but decided to move on and not fight him on the matter.
“If your country cares so much for its people then why does it abandon its pilots that we have shot down?”
“My country has not abandoned me.”
“They have made not a single attempt to get into contact with usor negotiate your return. I’m, almost certain, that you have some doubts that your nations will ever come back for you.” There was a moment of silence between the two before the pilot made it clear he was not going to answer the question any further. “Moving on.” The officer flipped through his notebook of questions. “Why do your politicians feel the need to meddle in our people’s affairs. We are perfectly capable of handling our own problems… without the help of some ignorant westerners.”
“I cannot tell you why. I just command a plane and its crew.”
“If you say so, Kishan.” The camera would then shut off, and the camera crew ordered to leave and send the recorded video to The Dolphin Isles, along with any pictures of their captured pilot they may have.
Talia loads the last of the three jet wings in the bed of the truck and pulls a tarp tight over them. Dan helps Kapila into the back seat of the sedan as Victor finishes filling up the gas tank. Gary carries out several short rifles and places them under the seats of the sedans. The group all don balaclavas and throw on old Nogovastani woodland camo jackets with nationalist militia markings. Talia gets in the driver seat of the lead vehicle and pulls out with Varga in the bed and Gary in the cab. Victor, Dan, and Kapila ride in the second vehicle and follow Talia. Fred, Garret, and Kapena take the last vehicle with the jet wings in the back. The team stay separated enough to not be spotted together but close enough that if something goes wrong they are right there. Gary pilots the UAV to scout the path ahead. Satellite imagery didn’t show any change but foot patrols would be harder to spot.
“We have three military aged males with AKs up ahead. Just walking. Low threat.” Gary says.
“Low threat. Like there is such a thing here.” Talia replies mockingly.
Gary puts his tablet to the side as the come up on the three walking men on the side of the street. They’re wearing similar jackets to the team and are also wearing balaclavas smoking cigarettes. One waves and Gary waves back.
“What a nice guy.” Gary says.
“You mean the genocidal nationalist that would kill the guy laying in the bed of our truck because he looks different?” Talia replies.
“Hey. He did something simple as give a wave to a stranger and now I feel better. Maybe he is a terrible person but he’s not THAT terrible. Plus, this far from the front, we aren’t likely to just stumble into, say a BTR or BRDM.”
“Did you really just say that? Are you sh*tting me? Why, why would you say that?”
“I’m just saying it’s unlikely. When we get closer to the lines we will probably have to go on foot or take a back woods path. This trip is gonna be more than a day of traveling.”
“You’re right. Keep your eyes on that drone. I don’t want ANY surprises.”
Gary makes a show of pulling the tablet back out and watching it.
This is a very early updating region, and I'm a recreational update surfer so I'll be here for a bit!
General Smith of the Zekali ground forces looked out across a vast sea from his jeep. The waves lapped at the shore as he watched the sun rise over the sea. "Inshallah" he said briefly between sips.
It had only been three months, but the mighty nation of 
Zekalia had finally achieved its manifest destiny and reached the Saber Rattling Sea. Zekali supervision had already brought stability to the areas that it occupied filling in the void caused by the collapse of so many governments, one after another. Now, all that was left was the interior of the continent of Grecia and the holy sites of the once almighty nation of Saegan. The nation of Zekalia was a new convert, with its leadership only recently changing due to a visit from the former state. Now, however, it stood alone and was poised to fill in the place of its former mentor.
Long live Zekalia.
North-Eastern Nogovastan, Zetrgorsk, Building of National Assembly
Gathered in one of the main conference rooms, the remnants of the old communist government meets for what could be the last time to discuss what must be done to fight back against the many groups who have popped up out of nowhere. Zetrogorsk had been surrounded by small militias of nationalists at the outbreak of the fighting, driven to the surrounding mountains, they began a campaign of terror. Civilians now moved behind armored vehicles when crossing the street to avoid sniper fire, mortar rounds occasionally landed in busy areas of the city, anti-aircraft guns fired at buildings and people, police sometimes clashed with the rebels and usually lost. No one expected the war to come to the city, the army was supposed to protect the people and prevent such a thing, especially such a large communist enclave like Zetrogorsk.
Despite the dangers of meeting in one of the largest buildings in the city, the remaining members of Adrik’s government, with what loyal forces of the General Staff remain, began discussing the possible plans to save themselves... and their nation. “We meet them here, at Nogosova.” Pointed Major General Nhetviok to a map of the nearby cities. "It will allow us to open up a corridor to funnel supplies and men through to some of our cut off forces."
"This is too risky." Interrupted Vasily, one of the few remaining members of the Communist Party of Nogovastan. "If we fail to push them at Nogosova then we leave our north open to a nationalist counter-offensive." Many who were on-board with an offensive around Nogosova, were now reconsidering, wondering if maybe there was another way to open up a corridor through the nationalist controlled areas. Perhaps there could be a way that didn't involve attempting to capture such a large city like Nogosova.
"Well there's nowhere else we could possibly have the chance of making a breakthrough without diverting most of our forces. Which, need I remind you gentlemen, are already stretched thin enough as is." The General made sure to remind everyone. "This could be our only chance to turn the tide of this war, people! Nationalist forces are too caught up with dealing with other opposition groups throughout the country as is. We'll catch them off guard and unprepared, with very few losses or casualties on our end." There was a silence that filled the room as many of the party members looked to be in deep thought of the possibility of a major communist victory over the nationalists, who by now, had appeared like an unbeatable force. Nikita Fetty Slav, the acting General Premier since Adrik's departure from the country, motioned for the General Staff to exit the room while the party convened.
After about an hour, the doors to the dimly lit conference room opened up, and the General Staff as called back in to continue further discussion. Nhetviok was sat down in a chair across from Nikita and the other Communist Party members. "We have reached a decision." Nikita announced to the room, but mostly directing it to Nhetviok. "We'll go through the plan of taking Nogosova to open a corridor with our other territories-"
"I promise you won't regret this decision." Nhetviok quickly interrupted.
"Now hold on, Nhetviok, let me finish." Nikita ordered. "We're going to approve the plan only if you agree to take full responsibility for any setbacks, logistical errors and anything else that should go wrong during this operation. To put it short, don't mess this up." Nhetviok stood up to salute Nikita before shaking his hand and making his way to the door. Could this be it? Was the government Adrik left to crumble finally on the path to liberating the nation as it did those many months ago? Only time would tell. For now, preparation around Nogosova was all that mattered.
Alarms blare silos as heavy blast doors close and crew run about. Missile trains depart bases across the country and begin to travel on freight lines. DEFCON 2 is set throughout the military. SSG Thompson rushes into his launch room and dials into the tactical net of the base.
“Nogovastani irregular forces have seized control of a missile base and opened silo doors. We do not have forces close enough to preemptively strike the base before they can launch. All call signs standby to receive launch orders.” The base commander says. “A sub launch will be used first but if we don’t see the launch in five minutes on satellite we are next up. Silos one, four and six, prepare payloads to strike the north eastern sector of Nogovastan with maximum payload. Set warheads to medium circular spread.”
Thompson looks at his officer with concern. “Sir, we’re going to nuclear strike the entire north eastern corner of the country because one base was taken?”
“I don’t make the orders here I just execute them. But, from our intelligence on the situation, that base isn’t the only one that was assumed captured. It’s just the only one with open doors that we can see. Clouds cover the others so it has to be assumed they are preparing to launch.” 1st Lieutenant Williams
“But why would we have to strike them? We haven’t been involved. We aren’t a threat to them at the moment.”
“It’s part of the doctrine. Any nuclear weapons release will almost certainly trigger all other nuclear parties to release their nuclear weapons. This requires us to retaliate or preemptively strike and here we are.”
“I can’t believe this. We’re about to possibly end the world because of a doctrine? Can’t the president stop this?”
“He can. But he has the same information and might follow through with a strike if we can’t get conventional assets nearby. Normally we’d have a carrier or base near but the other regional powers have forced us to pull back out international reach. This is our only way to protect ourselves now.”
“Why can’t we rely on our missile defense? Doesn’t that protect the nation?”
“Only strategic assets have ABM sites. It’s too expensive and logistically difficult to get sites built at every city or town.”
“My God. So this is really going to happen.”
“I’m afraid so.” They both turn to their consoles and prepare for the inevitable.”
The radio comes to life again. This time a monotone General comes over the radio. “Sierra one, Sierra four, Sierra six. You are ordered to execute strike package Charlie on the north eastern sector of Nogovastan. Target is ICBM launch facilities. Prepare to receive launch authentication. November, echo, sixer, oscar, tree, fife, mike. I repeat, november, echo, sixer, oscar, tree, fife, mike.
SSG Thompson and LT Williams both open their safes and crack open the authentication packets. “I confirm this is an authentic message.” Williams says
“I concur. The message is authentic.” Thompson replies.
“Sierra one, four, and six, report status.”
LT Williams switches on his mic. “Sierra one reports message is authentic. Starting launch sequence now.”
Williams grabs the keys from his safe and inserts them into the key slots in his console. “Staff Sergeant Thompson. Insert your keys and turn them to the open position on my mark. 3, 2, 1, Mark.” They turn the keys to the open position and the silo doors slam open, exposing the tip of the LGM-104 Peacekeeper missile. “Staff Sergeant Thompson, on my mark, turn your key to the launch position. 3, 2, 1, mark.” They both turn their keys. The solid rocket engine of the missile roars to life in its silo. Thompson and Williams feel the missiles shaking the facility. On their consoles, camera feeds show their missile streaking into the sky carrying thirteen, five megaton, thermonuclear warheads.
“I’m, I’m gonna step outside for some air. Is that ok?” Thompson says as he stands up.
“That’s fine. But you know all cell signals are being jammed. So you can’t call your wife or family.”
Thompson sighs. “I know, I know.” He says as he hangs his head and slowly walks out of the launch complex to the small vending machine area outside. From his seat outside, he watches squadrons of B-24s and F-32s take off with full ordinance loads.
«12. . .2627282930»
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