The Art of War: Operation Fast Draw (War story I'm writing)

[BTR74]

Okay, there's been a little slump in info on RUSE. No worries! The Dank Tank has his World War Three story for y'all http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif
It's an evolution of something Ive been working on for well over a year.

Here's the premise: In the near future, in the midst of a Second Cold War between the West and reenergized East, a shocking assassination has ignited a furious shooting war between the Asian giants of India and China. With the rest of the world picking sides, the conflict soon begins to spread like wildfire, engulfing the rest of Asia, Europe, Central America, and the Carribbean. World war emerges, and it will take the Allies' best to halt the rampaging Bear and Dragon.

Allies: USA, Canada, France, Germany, Belgium, Britain, Spain, Holand, Greece, Albania, Italy, Poland, Romania, Norway, Sweden, Turkey, Mexico, South Africa, Australia, India, South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Thailand, Malaysia, many others.

SCO: Russia, China, Pakistan, North Korea, Venezuela, Iran, Serbia Vietnam, Belarus, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, others.

Faction map:

http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk190/BTZ80/WorldWarThree2021.png

Timeline:

2009

-Albania and Croatia join NATO, over the following years, Montenegro, Macedonia, Bosnia, and Georgia join the alliance as well.

2010

- The United States begins large scale reforms to it’s military to deal with asymmetric threats. Although the overhaul is sorely needed as the nation is locked in two guerrilla wars, politicians in the mid-2010’s will take the decision too far, focusing all resources on counter terror project without paying enough attention to conventional threats.

2012

- As the world financial crisis stabilizes, the wave of international cooperation and unity sharply erodes. The threat of diminishing resources becomes glaringly apparent once again, and nations begin moving to secure their own sources. Russian-west relations take a turn for the worse as The US/EU and Russia begin a political tug-of-war over the oil rich region of Central Asia, considered by Russia to be firmly within it’s sphere of influence.

2013

- The beginning of a long period of tension between the west and east. Global relations come to a crunch, with tensions between the NATO members and Russia and China rapidly rising as both sides attempt to gain influence over resource rich states in Africa and Asia. The term “Second Cold War” begins to be used in this year.

-Turkmenistan abandons it’s state of “permanent neutrality” and aligns itself with Russia after intense political pressure.

2014

- A staunchly Pro-Russian, anti-Albanian candidate is elected in Serbia, who strengthens ties with Moscow and pulls the nation out of it’s European Union bid. Serbia begins stockpiling modern military equipment to become stronger than it’s neighbors.

- As American and British forces withdraw from the Middle East, Turkey begins to exert it’s own influence in the region, becoming an increasingly potent counterbalance to Iran. Turkey also develops close ties with Kosovo, Azerbaijan, and Georgia.

- With harsh rhetoric coming from both sides, Russian-NATO cooperation collapses, and the two sides openly begin an arms race. A massive military buildup in the Baltic region begins. In addition to modern weapons and vehicles being supplied to the local armed forces, large fortifications are constructed along the Russian border.
Similar buildup begins in eastern Turkey and the Balkans, where US backed Albania becomes the leading counterbalance to Russian backed Serbia.

- With their main refuges under attack, the leaders of Jihadist movements relocate their bases of operation to Central Asian former Soviet republics, particularly in mountainous Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. With the blessings of the local governments, NATO executes Operation Lightning Sweep, a massive drive across the region from Kazakhstan to Waziristan in order to dismantle these terrorists. With assistance from India, these forces swiftly kill or capture the fleeing Jihadists, and the operation is a success. However, Russia and China are infuriated by what they view as blatant imperialism and power grabbing. The nations reassert their influence in the region, installing Moscow/Beijing loyal leaders in every country except democratic Kyrgyzstan. With a mix of political pressure and cyber-attacks, the defiant republic eventually bows to the pressure. Russian oil companies begin exploiting the massive deposits underneath the region, and in exchange for reduced prices, Russian state arms manufacturers supply these once third world republics with state of the art weapons, communications gear, vehicles, aircraft, and training officers. The Central Asian militaries, once small bands of poorly organized gunmen equipped with leftover scraps from the Soviet era become formidable regional powers, posing a distinct threat to even the most advanced western armies.

- The Shanghai Cooperation Organization, or the SCO, begins large scale military exercises in Manchuria and Siberia. The eastern alliance begins taking on a more militarized role, providing an eastern equivalent to NATO. The members, primarily Russia and China, spend billions to update and improve their military forces, hoping to catch up with the west. The Chinese particularly focus on developing electronic countermeasures to advanced western communications and jamming technology, while Russia develops new armor, shells, and stealth technology. It is also announced that Eastern European nations may join as well, paving the way for Belarus and Serbia to enter the coalition.

- Leftist insurgents, reportedly funded and covertly supplied by the SCO, launch a series of brutal attacks in Columbia. The ensuing civil war threatens to topple the democratic government. At the Columbian President’s request, peacekeepers arrive to assist government forces in restoring order. Over the following years, the North Atlantic alliance continuously grows more and more close knit, with more member states willing to contribute more forces to protect their interests which are now increasingly under threat. NATO is soon referred to as a “superpower alliance,” a title that would soon be used to describe the eastern coalition as well.

- China initiates a program to send humanitarian and financial aid to impoverished SCO countries, improving the alliance's support among poor.

- Hurricane Gigi, a class four storm, pummels the coast of Florida, forcing the United States to take it’s focus off the developing militarization of Central Asia.

- New crises appear in the Far East. Indian and Chinese companies find themselves disputing over rights to offshore oil platforms in the Pacific, leading to increased tensions between the two.

2015

- The beginning of the Space Arms Race. Russia and China work together in developing a series of kinetic missiles, lasers, and EMP devices to counter western space dominance and reliance.

- The resource crisis rears it’s ugly head again, this time worse than before. The price of oil and natural gas skyrockets. Although by now the developed nations have developed many alternate energy technologies and another severe recession is avoided, the populations of these nations feel the strain. Russia once again reaps the wealth of it’s vast resources, using this to vastly improve it‘s military and civilian infrastructure. Russia announces a plan to build three carriers by 2020. Learning a lesson from the 2008-2011 economic crisis, the government also reinforces non-resource related industry to shore up it’s ability to withstand any further recessions. The Central Asian nations also see a massive growth in their economies.

- Indonesia announces that it has discovered a previously unknown oil deposit off it’s southern coast. American businesses sweep in to exploit it, much to the disdain of China.

- The Central Asian Union, a civilian trade bloc, is founded. It consists of Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan.

- The European Union becomes the first entity to become a superpower without being a true “nation” on it’s own. Any fears that it may undermine the United States are swept aside as the EU increases military cooperation with it‘s Atlantic partners. The alliance’s unity is driven by fears of a resurgent Russia and an increasingly powerful China and Iran.

- Germany begins development of the Leopard 3 MBT.

- China begins exerting it’s influence over it’s neighbors, using the promise of investments and resource sharing to gain many new allies in Southeast Asia.

- In a shocking series of events, the western-allied Ukrainian government is overthrown in a popular uprising tacitly backed by Russia. The pro-Russian population of the nation elect an anti-EU, anti-American president, who cancels Ukraine’s efforts to join NATO and realigns with Russia. A similar coup is achieved via vote-rigging and intimidation in Moldova, crushing pro-EU elements in the former Soviet republic. Russia quickly takes the reigns of it’s new vassal states by forcing Moldova to recognize the Russian backed separatist region of Transnistria, allowing them to freely supply the region with modern arms. The US and EU are stunned but cannot do anything about what they perceive as a “New Iron Curtain” descending upon Eastern Europe, and fears grow that similar events might occur in NATO member states such as Romania and Bulgaria. These fears are diffused as the “Russian-Revolutions” fizzle out, only taking place in the two nations. Low support for the Russian government in Eastern Europe due to it’s use of energy bullying is the reason for this. Pro-Romanian rebels begin a series of attacks against the Moldovan government, prompting Russian and Ukrainian intervention.

- Analysts report that Middle Eastern oil is being depleted at a dangerously fast rate.

- CIA backed terrorist groups in China initiate a series of bombings in major cities, leading to a brief declaration of martial law in affected areas. The terrorists are quickly arrested and executed, a sign of the growing effectiveness of China’s security apparatus. Both sides fund and supply terrorist organizations in each other’s key allied states in places such as Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia, creating a mass upturn in terrorism in developing nations.

- The Cyan Revolution, a semi-peaceful overthrow of the Azerbaijani government, is the first Color revolution in ten years. The new government continues to foster ties with the west, much to Russia’s dismay. Azerbaijan is granted a Membership Action Plan later this year, clearing the path to NATO integration.

- Chinese and EU peacekeepers clash in the Democratic Republic of the Congo after the SCO peacekeeping directorate denies the Europeans access to bring medical supplies to a region hard hit by an Ebola outbreak. The Chinese wanted to send the aid itself for a better public image. Over the coming years, the superpowers begin a deadly game of power-play in Africa, vying for control of it’s resources, often with disregard towards local populations. NATO generally backs countries on the Eastern, Western, and Southern coasts of the continent, while the Chinese gains influence in the Central and Northern regions.

- Observers agree that by now China has also become a world-class superpower. China’s massive economy and military contribute to it’s quick rise in power. By the early 2020’s, many consider China to be the most powerful nation in the world, above America and Europe. Coincidentally, the western nations begin a series of reforms in an attempt to wean them of dependence on Chinese products. Pro-western Asian states such as India, Taiwan, the Philippines, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, Singapore, South Korea, Japan, and Bangladesh quickly step in to take the place of China, much to the benefit of their populations. China’s trade relations with major nations such as Brazil, Russia, Venezuela, and Iran prevent it from suffering any losses in it’s economic growth.


- Tensions between India and China boil as the two attempt to gain influence over Tajikistan. Chinese backed governments expel Indian troops from the region and Russian troops move into help their allies secure the region. SCO made weapons sold en masse to the local nations continue to bring their forces up to modern standards. The collective nations in the region are sometimes jokingly referred to as “Ursa Minor,” after the smaller of two bears in ancient mythology in the west, due to their heavy usage of Russian technology and training. India, angered with their loss, begins strengthening ties with the west, shifting away from the SCO. The nation also develops close relations with fellow South Asian states such as Nepal, Bhutan, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh. Although positive relations are kept with Russia, the two nations experience a cool down in their ties. Russia becomes increasingly reluctant to sell military equipment to India, causing it to look to the west for assistance, as well as increasing domestic weaponry. This leads to the Indian military using a mesh of western and eastern technology, surprisingly to great effect.

- The Third Chechen War begins, with a resurgent rebel militia, backed by American intelligence agencies, initially inflicting heavy losses on Russian security forces. American arms and training leads to increased effectiveness against Russian forces. After a brutal crackdown, the new insurgency is suppressed, thousands of civilians are killed or “disappear.”

- A reformist government finally takes power in Iran, alarming the eastern powers, which fear that they may lose their primary foothold in the Middle East. Russian and Chinese led forces, as well as troops from several smaller SCO member states, enter the country from the north and east, toppling the new moderate leaders and restoring the leaders previously in power.

-The United States returns to a 20th Century policy of developing a sphere of influence in South America to counter leftist regimes backed by Venezuela. Primary allies of the US in the region are Argentina, Columbia, Chile, and Mexico.

- Despite increasing conventional build up in Asia, most European and North American nations continue to view terrorism as their primary threat, and prepare their militaries as such. This leads to a weakening of their abilities to handle warfare with large states, giving the SCO an increasing advantage.

- China reveals it’s latest gunship design, the Z-10A. It includes stealth technology and is strikingly similar to the cancelled American Comanche.

2016

- The largest headline of the year is the declaration of peak oil extraction in the Middle East, with more oil being required than what is available. Arab oil wells dry up, and
both sides begin scouring the world for new sources to sustain the appetite for fuel until reasonable alternatives are developed. For the US/EU, Azerbaijan, Canada, Alaska, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Norway become primary alternatives, while the Chinese turn to Russia, the CAU, Iran, Brazil, and Venezuela.

- The United States launches a line of “Brigade Combat Systems” vehicles, the spiritual successors to the cancelled Future Combat Systems line of vehicles. The family consists of chassis-sharing infantry fighting, light tank, repair and recovery, medevac, artillery, mortar, recon, and command vehicles. While nearly identical in appearance to the earlier concepts, these new vehicles include MRAP anti-mine technology, showing a preference to facing guerrilla warfare.

- Ignoring Russian protests, Azerbaijan is welcomed into NATO.

- With SCO assistance, Iran begins to speed up it’s pace towards becoming a fully developed nation. Armenia is also brought into the alliance. In response, Turkey and it’s Caucasian neighbors build up defenses along their borders.

- Heightened tensions between the superpowers leads to a wave of anti-Asian violence in the US, with hate crimes on the rise. The government responds with a series of cultural education in public schools in an attempt to curb it. However, the racial tension continues.

- The African nation of Ivory Coast falls into outright anarchy. The country becomes nearly an anarchy, with what’s left of the organized government only controlling small parts of the country, and various warlords and rebels control the capital and most major cities. A joint UN, AU, and mainly French EU peacekeeping force is sent to restore order. A fresh government is set up and warlord factions are put down.

- Both NATO and the SCO openly prepare for hostilities with each other. NATO begins a massive military buildup near Russian borders. Georgia in particular is given advanced air defense systems and high tech weapons to fortify itself against Russia and Russian-backed separatist regions. Russia returns the favor, building up it’s and allied forces in Armenia, Belarus, and it’s own borders with the EU.
Meanwhile, China/Pakistan and India increase military presences on their borders.

-The first of several major proxy wars begins in South America. US backed nations clash with SCO backed nations after a border dispute between Ecuador and Columbia escalates into a full scale conflict. The Chinese allies win a decisive victory, pushing back the American backed forces before a Japanese peace plan is accepted.

- A typhoon ravages Southeast Asia. Australia, which had been preparing to face off with China since the beginning of the century, begins to flex it’s muscles in the region, providing humanitarian aid and military assistance to the affected nations, whilst working to repair previously strained ties. The Chinese PLAN, along with regional allies, respond by deploying a newly created carrier task force to ensure that Vietnamese “maritime sovereignty” is respected.

- Brazil becomes the primary “non-aligned” power in the world, often mediating crises between the sides.

- The Russian T-95 (aka “Black Eagle“) series of main battle tanks is declared fully operational and ready for export to eastern allied nations. The tank is a marvel of technology, having a crewless turret sporting a massive 140mm or 152mm cannon (with the option for a standard 125mm), advanced countermeasures and armor protecting it’s three person crew, high powered engine, and an impressive speed. The Chinese license produced version, the Type 20, is fitted with top of the line electronics and jamming systems. These tanks seem poised to dominate any ground combat, being more powerful than any western tank, and able to withstand direct hits from the most advanced American and European ATGWs.

- The United States begins a series of naval exercises with the Australian, Japanese, and South Korean navies in the Yellow Sea.

- The USS Zumwalt class (DDG-1000) is complete at three ships. It is one of the most advanced ship classes in the world with advanced gun and missile systems. In the next few years it will be fitted with railgun and direct energy weapons. To counter western naval power, China and Russia develop high tech submarines in addition to better surface fleets.

2017

- First prototypes of the Su49 Advanced Berkut fly; they are based on the previous Su47 forward swept wing technology demonstrator. The Su49 is intended to supplement Su50 “Fountain” 5th generation aircraft and are to be exported to smaller SCO powers.

- Despite the conventional nature of the Second Cold War, most American and EU politicians maintain the terrorism is still the primary threat to global security, citing increased terrorist activities in Eastern Europe, Africa, South America, and Asia. The general consensus is that the SCO would never have the nerve to attack them. While it was crucial to maintain strong counter terror abilities, continued neglect for conventional war fighting technology allows the SCO nations to

- The Shanghai Cooperation Organization begins a massive counter narcotics mission in the CAU nations.

- A unified US and European spy satellite network goes online. At the same time, the SCO is perfecting various anti-satellite weaponry.

- The Pacific Treaty Organization, or PATO, is approved. It consists of the United States, Canada, Mexico, India, Taiwan, the Philippines, Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, Singapore, South Korea, Sri Lanka, Japan, and Bangladesh. It’s main purpose is to counter Chinese aggression in Asia. PATO is considered to be a major feat, as many of it’s members have longstanding rivalries and disputes.

- The T-95/Type 20 is mass produced, with hundreds entering service to supplement current upgraded T-90 and Type 99 tanks.

- Russia and India complete their final major joint military project, the Sukhoi/HAL FGFA, based on the Su50.

- Venezuela acquires a shipment of high tech anti-ship missiles from China. These missiles have longer range than standard USN SSMs.

-The North American Defense Initiative (NADI), a military alliance guaranteeing mutual security for the US, Canada, Mexico, and several Central American and Caribbean states is signed. It is intended to be a deterrent to the increasingly aggressive leftist regimes in Latin America.

- Tensions on the Korean Peninsula flare after a South Korean journalist is arrested and executed in Pyongyang. South Korea invites the US to increase it’s military presence in the border zone.

- Chinese and Taiwanese aircraft clash over the Pacific Ocean, bringing the two to the brink of war. The US and France, previously afraid to back the island lest they anger China, rush to pour high tech military tech into the Taiwanese military.

- Europe increases military fortifications along the Poland-Ukraine border. Ukraine and Russia respond likewise.

- The last major war in the Middle East takes place. Hezbollah insurgents take control of the Lebanese capital of Beirut and execute the President. Almost immediately, a joint American-Canadian-Turkish-EU force is authorized to intervene and assist the government-loyal Lebanese military. An amphibious force lands on the coast while Arab troops move in from Jordan. They link up with Lebanese Armed Forces and launch a massive counter attack into the rebel held north. Syria, fearing that it may be boxed in, rolls two tank divisions over the border and engages the allies. They respond with large scale air-raids on Syria itself and authorize their troops to push into the nation to overthrow the Syrian government.
The SCO watches in horror as allied forces crush the Syrian army and occupy the nation. As the world is distracted by the chaos, tensions reach near-breaking point. Russia halts gas supplies to Europe and China rapidly increases prices on exports. The post-occupation Iraqi government places it’s forces at the Iran-Iraq border on high alert, ordering it’s forces to shoot any Iranian troops that cross on sight. Many fear that a world war is imminent as both sides gear up for fighting. The standoff becomes white-hot as the Norwegian Air Force forces a civilian Russian airliner to land after violating a no-fly zone in the Barents Sea during naval exercises. The crew and passengers are detained as questioned as Russia increases it’s saber rattling.
Only through intense negotiations at the UN, both sides accept an Ethiopian proposed peace plan, and the standoff ends. UN peacekeepers, mainly from non-aligned African nations, take over the occupation of Syria. High casualties sustained by American troops shatters Americans’ felling of invincibility.

- In the same year as the Final Mideast War, India and China skirmish in the Sikkim province for several weeks, resulting in heavy casualties for both sides. India severs diplomatic relations with China.

-Japan ends it’s longstanding policy of keeping it’s military strictly defense, after much American pressure. The US also increases ties with Asian and Pacific nations to counter Chinese influence.

- With support from Chinese agents, a rogue Pakistani general violently topples the pro-western government. The new dictator severs ties with the west and begins building up stronger ties with China and Russia. The US and Europe are shocked as advanced western made weapons delivered to Pakistan wind up in SCO hands.

- The Central Asian countries grow more repressive as the dictators of countries such as Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and Tajikistan receive a flood of oil money. The dictators claim legitimacy by holding (rigged) elections, but have become totalitarian dictatorships in reality.
Only Kyrgyzstan remains truly free and democratic.

-Kosovo is narrowly accepted into the EU, infuriating Serbia. Serbian forces invade the disputed nation, only to face a counter attack by Albanian soldiers stationed there. Fearing another NATO bombing campaign, Serbia backs down.

- The most deadly proxy war of the Second Cold War, the Pan-African War (also called the African World War) ignites after a South African-led coalition invades near-anarchistic Zimbabwe. Western and eastern backed governments engage in all corners of the continent, resulting in staggering casualties and horrifying atrocities. The superpowers arm and support their respective allies, only adding fuel to the fire. The war lasts four months, and kills fifty-thousand people. The world is closest to a world war since the 1960’s.

- The maiden test firing of the Iron Curtain laser system in Shenyang, China, is performed. The laser successfully shoots down or critically damages the dummy satellites targeted. CIA reports indicate that there are at least two more laser sites somewhere in Russia, China, and/or Kazakhstan.

-The Scandinavian nations of Sweden and Finland, facing increasing pressure from their southern neighbors, surrender their neutrality and join NATO. Meanwhile, NATO signs a defense pact with non-member EU countries of Kosovo, Austria, Ireland, and Cyprus. This guarantees that these nations will contribute forces in defense of Europe in the possibility of a Russian attack.

- After a decade of peace, Maoist rebel forces in the pro-Indian Himalayan republic of Nepal, ignite a massive civil war over the perceived failure of the democratic government to handle poverty and social inequality. Atrocities are committed by elements on both sides, and UN observers report that thousands have become displaced. India and China are quick to take sides in the war, which only leads to it becoming prolonged and even more deadly.

- Missile shields employed by both the SCO and NATO renders nuclear warfare obsolete. The world holds it’s breath as conventional military buildup skyrockets.

- After years of delays due to poor management despite government attempts to speed production, the F-35 Lighting II enters full scale production in the US and Europe. By this time, Russia’s Su50 and China’s J-15 5th generation fighter designs have been perfected and provide Raptor-like capabilities for Lightning-like prices. Serving alongside advanced and upgraded 4th/4.5 generation aircraft such as the JF-17, J-10, Su30, Su35, and MiG35, as well as potent SAM and AAA systems, western air dominance which had seemed unshakeable merely five years before, is shattered. The SCO also launches a program to create a fully integrated alliance air defense network.

2019

- Russia has by now reached true superpower status once again. Much credit for this recovery is due to China, whose assistance helped Russia get back on it’s feet. Around the same time, India is considered to have also reached the coveted status, with a fully modernized military and an influential economy. However, massive poverty and underdeveloped infrastructure means that India is the lesser of the superpowers. An unprecedented five superpowers are now present in the world, unheard of in the modern world.

- Thailand and Cambodia, backed by the US and China respectively, clash over a disputed historical site in a two week war.

- Islamic extremism loses strength as Middle Easterners grow tired of the constant warfare in their homeland. However, Islamic extremist groups still remain as of 2021, though much weaker. Environmentalist, pro-SCO, right wing, and communist terror groups take it's place.

- Future Warrior tech in US and allied nations begin trickling down to elite units. Even most regular units receive at least some form of equipment from the projects.

2020

- The USA restarts production of the F-22 Raptor, originally ended at 187 jets, in hopes of regaining lost ground in airpower.

- Russia and Ukraine form a new, tighter union together. Although the nation remains technically independent, the union allows Russia to control virtually all of the Ukrainian government’s foreign policies, turning the nation into a puppet state. Protests against this in the capital are swiftly suppressed by the Kiev police. This is intended to keep simmering anger against Russia in the nation from affecting the government or military of the nation.

- Russian arms manufacturing and development increases tenfold.

- Europe officially ends all import of oil and natural gas from Russia, turning to alternate sources in the Caucasus, and North America.

- BCS vehicles enter mass production. They are intended to begin replacing older Bradleys and Abrams by 2025. The Army also purchases more Strykers, MRAPs, drones, and JLTVs. Despite these efforts, much of the military’s equipment, such as Humvees, remains similar to that of the beginning of the century. The United States Army begins initial low rate production of the RAH-68 Comanche II, jointly developed with Japan, Israel, Germany, Turkey, South Korea, Canada, and Albania.

2021

- The Russian Zhukov aircraft carrier class is operational, as well as the cutting edge Orca nuclear submarine.

- By now, the European Union includes Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Albania, Croatia, Bosnia, Montenegro, and Macedonia. The EU has a unified law system, foreign policy (to a degree), defense, and border security. The member nations often cooperate in weapon projects and arms production. With the EU strong enough to hold out against Russian and allied forces largely on its own, the United States begins to focus on the Chinese and Venezuelan threat.

- The world is on the edge. Energy crises are growing more intense. Tensions are teetering on the brink of war. Only a slight push could tear the re-polarized Earth apart into a new global war. All that is needed is another push, and the world will erupt in massive scale warfare. The nightmare of nightmares is lurking just around the corner…

[BTR74]

“I am confident that this so-called ‘Second Cold War’ will never go anything beyond that. The enemy has neither the will nor the ability to challenge us.”
-President John A. Martin at his inauguration speech, January 27, 2016

“Only the dead have seen the end of war”
-Plato

“The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin…”
- Sun Tzu

1. Chaos Theory


February 18th 2021
Kathmandu, Federal Republic of Nepal

“The time has come, comrades…”
Five young men in their early to mid twenties stood before a tiny, old television with a grainy screen and noticeably static sound quality. They were crammed into the tiny living room of a run down little shack of a home in the slums of Kathmandu, the capital city of the tiny, mountainous Himalayan republic of Nepal. The city of nearly nine-hundred-thousand people was the cultural, political, and economic soul of the tiny nation. Tourists have long been awed by the city’s fascinating collection of temples, ancient culture, religious sights, and unique architecture for decades. The city had Nepal’s most developed infrastructure and sanitation, the home of the increasingly prominent local film industry, and the nation’s banking centers.
It was also about to become the site of history in the making.
Today, these five men’s actions would cause ripples throughout the entire world, and would set in motion a chain of horrifying events that would certainly be remembered for decades to come.
The year was 2021. The recessions and financial crises at the beginning of the century, while contained to the extent of preventing a depression, had given way to by far the most tense period of time in thirty years, since the end of the Soviet Union. Mass energy crises and conflicting spheres of influence shattered any hope for close ties between the new superpowers in the east, and the west. The event dominating the headlines of the past decade was the New Cold War, a massive arms race and series of proxy wars between the ever more powerful Shanghai Cooperation Organization led by China, Russia, and Ukraine, and the newly reinvigorated NATO members as well as multiple other world powers. The tensions were fanned by the ever diminishing supply of natural resources and a struggle to build larger and more profitable spheres of influence. The world energy crisis was ever more apparent since 2016, when the Arab OPEC members declared that peak oil in the region had been reached, forcing the world’s gas guzzlers to search for other sources to tap. The past decade was plagued by steadily increasing tensions and a nearly constant stream of small to medium conflicts from South America to Asia, cumulating to the Final Mideast Conflict, the closest the world had ever came to an open clash between the superpowers. The east and west had waged intelligence wars against each other, the likes of which had not been seen since the 1950’s leading to mass state sponsored terrorism and unrest in third world “swing states;” governments around the world had cemented or switched allegiances. The most notable switch was the shocking reversal of western relations with nations such as Ukraine and Pakistan, which resulted in the once close allies of the United States becoming staunch enemies. Ukraine returned to it’s old Russian roots, rather than joining the North Atlantic Alliance, as well as deciding that trade relations with their Eurasian partners were more important than their finky western neighbors, and Pakistan‘s anger over American and European imperialism on their land boiled over into a pro-SCO coup. Russia lost a key partner as well, with India’s souring ties with China leading it to turn to the USA for support.
An unprecedented five superpowers were now in place in the world, and none were neutral. Indeed, the last decade had been a time of great anxiety and fear on both sides. Fear that a dreaded world conflict was just around the corner. Fear that the dwindling resources of the planet would lead to a crunch. Fear that the terror and slaughter of the last century would repeat itself once more.
Their worst nightmare was about to become true.

The Prime Minister of India, Ramiyah Chandara, had just arrived at the Kathmandu International Airport right on schedule according to the local news. Chandara was to meet with the Nepalese President at the Parliament building to finalize and sign the new “Himalayan Security Agreement,” which would give India the go-ahead to send three full divisions of combat troops to assist the Nepali military in putting down the Maoist insurgency that had been tearing the country apart since their violent resurgence three years ago. The rebels have killed over nine-thousand people and displaced nearly three times that in addition to disrupting democratic elections with bombings and intimidation. The insurgency had also done a fine job destroying Nepal’s developing infrastructure. The Maoists had control over nearly a fifth of the nation’s total territory. They had made many gains in a short period of time, but this ragtag collection of peasants and poor farmers would never be able to take on the might of the Indian Armed Forces, now modernized and well trained to the point of superpower status. The Agreement would effectively be the end of the so-called “Second People’s Revolution,” something that did not sit well with the five men who had been eagerly awaiting the Prime Minister’s arrival for nearly three months.
The time had come indeed.
With time of the essence, the five men knew that this was their only chance at changing the course of history, and their only chance to ensure that the Revolution would not die.


It had been a painstaking effort to make it possible for their plan to have the chance to become reality, and they had toiled ever since they first learned of Chandara’s visit. Their success relied on a number of factors, including timing, location, and equipment. At the core was a homemade Katyusha multiple rocket launch system, a crude device that the five insurgents had constructed tirelessly overt he past few months with the help of extensive internet research and meetings with fellow revolutionaries across the glob. They kept the weapon concealed from the government authorities’ view by smuggling it’s parts into the city bit-by-bit and keeping it disassembled and hidden in several homes to keep it safe from routine police searches. It could be put together and used within half an hour, which would be critical for the plan to work as government UAVs were scouring the city for any signs of suspicious activity and they would be detected in minutes. When put together, the launcher was approximately fifteen feet long, and looked like a jumble of scrap metal and rusty bolts, but it was not to be underestimated; the Maoists had an ace up their sleeves. The Nepali Parliament building, as with most government offices in the country, was heavily fortified with ten foot thick concrete walls and reinforced steel structure designed specifically to counter crude rocket attacks which had become commonplace in the nation. Homemade rockets were not especially known for their accuracy either. The Maoists had tackled these two issues twofold by adding a pinch of modern technology to their makeshift Katyusha. To solve the issue of accuracy, they had acquired a high-tech GPS guidance system from one of the insurgency’s benefactors in Beijing, which could correct and adjust a projectile’s flight path to it’s pre-programmed target destination, allowing pinpoint accuracy for the most primitive systems. Second, and by far most importantly, the insurgents had obtained one of the most lethal solutions to the firepower issue. Placed on the tip of their Katyusha missile was a tiny thermobaric vacuum warhead, similar in firepower to the earlier MOAB or FOAB bombs with enough raw firepower to level half a dozen city blocks without any radioactive or chemical side-effects. They had came upon the rare opportunity to get their hands on such a weapon when scouring the black market for a biological or chemical agent and instead met the elusive “Dr Vack,” AKA Huang Zhi, once been a renowned weapons developer in China, known for his ground-breaking nuke alternatives. In late November of last year he had decided that his handsome government paychecks were not enough for his ego and decided to try the more lucrative business of selling his knowledge to more shadowy organizations than his current employers. He faked his own death by setting his home on fire with an unknowing victim of similar height and appearance inside before fleeing China to the lawless, war-torn deserts of Western Sahara...taking one of his prototype thermobaric warheads, aptly named “Catalyst,” with him as well as countless blueprints and schematics. Most of the warhead’s other potential customers had been turned off by it’s relatively low explosive yield and lack of any after-effects, but this is just what the Maoists needed for their plan. For a handsome fee, they purchased “Catalyst” and sneaked it back to their homeland where it would be crudely fixed on one of their Katyushas.


The insurgents gathered at their leader’s home this morning, each bringing their parts to the weapon, each ready, willing, and eager to fulfill their duties. Their hard labor was about to come to fruition. As they stood around the television, watching the live footage of the imperialist Prime Minister stepping off his plane, flanked by the Indian First Lady at least a dozen uniformed and plainclothes bodyguards and twenty local riot police officers who were awaiting him on the tarmac, waving and smiling as his lemmings cheered him on. He wouldn’t be so happy in a few moments.
An official limo pulled up in from of the runway, but being a politician, the Indian lingered about to impress the locals.
Ramiyah Chandara was to many the symbol of a new generation of Indian politics. He was forty-eight years old, but appeared half that age, with his sparkling white smile and neatly styled hair. His attractive wife and skill at using the internet and other electronic mass media to connect with the public boosted his image as a man of the average citizen. He was widely accredited for India reaching global superpower status and for a massive clean-up of rampant corruption. With stunning eighty-two percent approval ratings among Indian citizens, he was an unprecedented popular leader in a nation with well over a dozen ethnic groups. He frequently appeared on western TV shows and internet broadcasts, and was a star among American and European politicians, who strongly appreciated Chandara’s pro-western and anti-Chinese stance.
Which was exactly why these five men despised him.
The Maoists had made their best guesstimate on how long Chandara would spend lingering around the airport shaking hands and posing for photo opportunities and the Indian general public and decided that they had to get to work.
The leader turned off the TV and held up his cell phone. He dialed the number of their lookout, a fellow revolutionary who lived on the top floor of a nearby apartment complex. He had a better view of the surrounding area and was to inform them of any nearby activity by the military or police.
“Nguyen, are there any threats outside?”
“Negative Comrade, there’s a helicopter coming this way, but once it passes, you’re clear.”
“Affirmative. Thank you.”
“Good luck, sir. May the people of Nepal remember your sacrifice…”
The leader sighed and dialed the number of their spotter outside the Parliament building. The Indian PM was on his way and would arrive at the building in approximately ten minutes. The spotter would call the moment the PM arrived.
The Maoist switched off the phone and looked at the others, “Is everyone ready?”
They nodded.
“Good.”
Outside, the thumping of helicopter rotor blades drew closer, and the five men looked out the window to see the unmistakable silhouette of an Indian HAL Dhruv light utility helicopter flutter past in the night sky, raking the ground with it’s high-powered searchlight, illuminating the land below to daytime light levels in circles ten feet in diameter. The window sill trembled and the floor shuddered as the chopper passed overhead, it’s pilot oblivious to what was about to happen below it.
“We have to move, there’ll be plenty more fascists around.” The group’s leader said coolly.
The stage was set. The performers were assembled. It was time for the final act to begin.
The insurgents entered the garage where their launcher sat waiting. They input the GPS coordinates of the Nepali Parliament building into the rocket guidance system; then they lifted open the manual garage door and wheeled the weapon outside, positioning it in their front lawn, facing towards the target. The missile was then put into launch position and the group waited anxiously for their signal.
The leader’s phone buzzed.
The five men watched each other as they each gulped a small two-hundred mg capsule of cyanide and arsenic, guaranteeing their deaths, as they knew that there would be no escape from the locked-down city, and they would not ever allow themselves to live the rest of their lives being tortured and interrogated by the local police. There was no turning back now. No one could break their commitment.
“For the People! For Comrade Mao! Revolution shall never die!”
Using a handheld remote, the leader armed the missile…then pressed down on the launch button with all the strength he had before collapsing to the ground. He made a weak smile, knowing that he had planted the seeds of liberty for his people…

With an ear-shattering shriek, the rocket’s booster ignited, and a tail of orange and red fire shot out the thrusters, and the rocket fired off the launcher in a huff of smoke and fumes, rapidly increasing speed and altitude. It barely shot over the rooftop of a nearby temple, which was situated on a tall hill right in the way of the rocket’s trajectory. It missed by a mere ten feet before clearing Kathmandu’s rather high skyline and continuing to climb over five-hundred meters into the sky, it’s GPS system making tiny adjustments to the rocket’s position and path in order to ensure that the precise target zone would be hit. The leader beamed as he watched a beautiful trail of exhaust smoke reach up into the sky, the glow of the thrusters shrinking into a smaller and smaller speck. He would not survive long enough to hear the explosion, but he knew that his goal was achieved. His life’s purpose which he had been destined to achieve from his birth would be accomplished. He laid his head down in the soft grass and quietly allowed the darkness to overtake him…


NDTV India
Live coverage: Prime Minister arrives in Kathmandu



The air rang with cheers and applause as the Prime Minister’s motorcade rolled down the road to the front entrance of the Nepali Parliament building. Nearly a hundred local and foreign journalists and cameramen formed a tight semicircle around the plaza, with a constant stream of camera flashes and a symphony of incoherent talking as reporters tried to speak all at once. This was a monumental day which would start a chain of events that could finally bring peace and stability to war-torn Nepal. Or a new era of war and destruction. It was a well known fact that China disapproved of the Himalayan Security Agreement, having vocally opposed it in the UN, and even vowed to “send peacekeepers to protect Chinese cultural interests in the northern regions of the country,” which alarmed many in the western world. It was also no secret that Chinese intelligence agencies openly funded and supplied Maoist rebels as a proxy fight against India, despite vehement denials by the PRC government. Either way, the entire dynamics of the region’s political trends would be dramatically changed. At the epicenter of the mob of reporters and onlookers, a young woman working as a correspondent for India’s NDTV news network, one of the largest and most influential in the country, stood in front of her camera crew, her back facing the Parliament plaza.
As the limo approached, she began speaking. “…where Prime Minister Chandara is set to meet with local officials to sign the Agreement. As you can clearly see, security is extremely tight, there are armed soldiers and police officers covering every corner of each street within view of the plaza, and each building in the surrounding area has been temporarily cleared out to prevent any possible snipers from getting a shot. The entire capital city and surrounding areas have been placed under what is effectively martial law, with a twenty-four hour curfew in effect for the week in which the summit takes place. Only journalists and a small crowd of heavily searched citizens have been permitted to watch the Prime Minister’s arrival. Although this has been rather controversial among human rights activists and groups, as well as local opposition leaders, the Nepali government insists that it is a necessary precaution in a nation where insurgents have become increasingly resourceful and adaptive. A spokeswoman for the Kathmandu Police Department even went as far as saying that ‘nothing could possibly go wrong‘ during the summit, and judging from what I’ve seen I have to agree.” The reporter paused as the armored limo eased to a halt before a cadre of Nepali politicians outside the Parliament, including the Nepali President and Speaker of the House.
“It seems that Chandara has arrived.” The crowd at the plaza broke out into a roar of approval as a bodyguard opened the limo’s door and the popular leader stepped out, smiled, and waved to the onlookers.


“Today marks the beginning of a new era in Southern Asian security, we‘ll follow up in a few hours with live footage of the meeting inside the Parliament building…” The reporter began to speak before she froze mid-sentence.
In a single, cold instant, everyone went silent.
The voices ceased, and the eyes of nearly one-thousand people, including Chandara’s, darted upward to the dark sky. A spine-tingling wail filled the air from the city’s Civil Defense sirens, and the silence was shattered by voices screaming over the nearby soldiers’ comm systems. The surreal captivation and awe exploded into panic as a distant flicker of an incoming rocket’s boosters appeared in the clear sky, rapidly descending…right towards the crowd.
“Get the VIPs out of here! Move! Move!!” One of Chandara’s bodyguards cried out before grabbing the PM and shoving him back into the limousine, whose driver swiftly . The other guards led the remaining politicians in a mad dash towards the shelter of the Parliament, believing the incoming projectile to be a normal homemade rocket. The panicked onlookers scrambled in various directions down the roads leading away from the area, some throwing themselves to the ground, hoping that the rocket’s warhead would only be a small one. Many breathed a sigh of relief as they believed that they would be safely out of the blast radius.
For many that was the last thought to go through their mind.
The “Catalyst” warhead detonated in a white hot flash three-hundred feet above the ground. The solid fuel powder was flung into a massive vapor cloud over the area before it mixed with the air and ignited into a nuclear-sized explosion with the equivalent of one-thousand kilograms of TNT, flames engulfing everything within a three mile radius. Anyone near the epicenter was vaporized by the three-thousand degrees Kelvin heat, and those around it were instantly burnt to death, charred into gruesome black husks that one would never have recognized as a human being, just having been alive and breathing just seconds before. Within milliseconds, the fireball grew into a massive mushroom shaped cloud, most well associated with an atomic bomb, leading most of the people observing the catastrophe from far away to believe that this was indeed a nuclear attack. The sheer force of the mile-high reaching explosion tore trees from their stubs, flattened houses, and kicked down tall apartment buildings like an angry child knocking down his block tower. Any unfortunate soul who in the affected zone who was not incinerated or crushed by debris outright was suffocated to death as the oxygen was sucked away. Five new helicopters hovering around the Parliament were swatted out of the sky by the shockwave, and they helplessly spun into irreversible loss of control. Many slammed right into the charred hulks of buildings, further adding to the firestorm that was developing in the areas directly adjacent to the blast zone. For miles around, people felt the ground tremble under their feet like an earthquake. As the smoke began to float into the sky, every firefighter, police officer, soldier, and medical worker in Kathmandu, which had been placed on high alert prior to the arrival, swarmed towards the blast site just minutes after the blast, already fearing the worst.
They were right.
Six city blocks and eight-thousand innocent civilians were lost within that deadly cloud of fire.

[bruce57]

http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/clap.gif fantastic! http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/11.gif

can you name a character graham?

[N3V30]

Why are these always one side vs the other.

Why not have multiple sides, it makes it more chaotic.

[BTR74]

Because I don't feel like making it an Endwar clone.

[N3V30]

Who said anything about an EW clone....A few Anti-America countries here and there, some Warlords in Africa trying to take advantage of the situation maybe.

[BTR74]

Ah, that would actually work. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-surprised.gif

Sorry for misinterpeting

[TheVoice777]

" The most deadly proxy war of the Second Cold War, the Pan-African War (also called the African World War) ignites after a South African-led coalition invades near-anarchistic Zimbabwe. Western and eastern backed governments engage in all corners of the continent, resulting in staggering casualties and horrifying atrocities. The superpowers arm and support their respective allies, only adding fuel to the fire. The war lasts four months, and kills fifty-thousand people. The world is closest to a world war since the 1960’s.

""


You might want to rewrite that part coz unless the south african goverment changes there is no way in hell that SA will ever invade zimbabwe...and the goverment of SA is technicaly speaking a communist party eventhough its a democratic country so its dufficult to say that they will join the allies...just a thought, use it dont use it...

[bruce57]

what if they were provoked? say, an attack on SA border guards by zimbabwean troops?

[BTR74]

It's not really a case of Communism vs capitalism.
And the intervention of Zimbabwe is more of a humanitarian act rather than a forceful invasion. Basically to restore order from anarchy.

2. Black Rain


February 18th 2021, shortly after the thermobaric blast
Kathmandu, Nepal


As the smoke lifted across the city, a police car, the only one within a mile of the blast to not be burnt to a crisp, flipped on it’s emergency lights and siren, letting out a lone howl from the electronic acoustic devices designed to project sound much farther than conventional horns. Inside a quivering man in his early forties hyperventilated, not knowing what to make of the situation. Captain Barati Thapa of the Armed Police Force of Nepal, the nation’s premier federal law enforcement agency and paramilitary force, had over fifteen years of experience in the police; he had been there in the line of fire during the first days of the resurgence of Maoist rebels almost three years ago. He had seen and survived countless bombings, had once had a gun pressed right up against his forehead, yet he had never been as terrified as he was now. His hands struggled to keep from sliding off the wheel with the combination of fear and searing heat from the outside making his whole body drenched in sweat in mere seconds. He saw himself in the rear-view mirror, his face was bright red and there was a large, blood dripping gash on his forehead where he hit the dashboard while the car, which had been slowing to a stop outside his designated guard post, spun into a nearby grocery truck. Thapa took a deep breath and tried to piece together the past three minutes. He had heard frantic radio chatter and was just about to ask what the fuss was about when the night sky lit up like a second sun was rising into it, which was followed by a wall of dust and debris slamming into his car and causing the loss of control. His windshield was peppered with cracks, although for the most part his vision was unhampered. Next, Captain Thapa glanced down at his Integrated Patrol Monitor. The IPM was a small computer system mounted on the police car’s dashboard which provided a digital map of the city, showing every road, street, and back alley in the area. It marked the locations of fellow patrol cars and other emergency vehicles as well as, if airborne tracking was available, the precise movements of suspects on the run. The IMS was standard issue for most police cars in developed nations throughout the world.
All of the other units on patrol duty for Chandara’s visit were gone, nowhere to be found.
“All units, we have a twelve-forty-one, say again, a twelve-forty-one! The Parliament has been hit with an unknown WMD; possible nuclear device! Say away from the area until it has been declared safe by Hazmat Central Authority.”


The silence in Thapa’s car was shattered by the apprehensive voice of the female dispatch operator from the Police Station. Her voice was followed by dozens of other officers from across the city all speaking at once, creating an inaudible blather until Thapa switched his comm system to filter out calls to anyone besides him.
“Wiseman patrol, come in, do you read over?”
Thapa picked up his radio receiver, “This is Wiseman lead, I read. What the **** just happened? The whole city block is gone! Gone!! There’s fires all over the place!” When the Captain looked up again, he could see dozens of citizens flooding out of nearby buildings, screaming in horror. Some were dragging out badly burned friends and relatives.
“This whole place is in bloody chaos! Get some paramedics down here-”
“We know, Captain.” The dispatcher cut him off, “Every damn ambulance and fire truck in the city is on the way! What’s the status of the rest of your patrol? They dropped off our screens.”
Thapa’s voice cracked as he replied, “They’re gone! I don’t see how any of them could have survived that…that…bomb or whatever the hell just went off! I think it killed everyone down there!”
The dispatcher cursed, then sighed, “Understood Captain. It looks like there was some kind of rocket that hit the building, we’re tracing the coordinates of the launch site, we should have it back up in a minute. Standby.”
The Captain pulled into full reverse and did a half circle to get back in the right direction on the road, his headlights illuminated dense crowds of panicked people fleeing the creeping fires. Many of them had been awoken from bed, and some were in their underwear or nightgowns, carrying armfuls of valuables. They clearly weren’t paying attention to Thapa’s patrol car’s siren or lights.
Just how close is that fire…?
“Oh my god!” He gasped when he glanced in the rear-view mirror. The wall of fire from the collapsed buildings was only thirty to forty meters away. The ashes from the initial blast were also falling like a black rain, leaving a gross black stain on everything they fell on. It was even enough to trigger the Captain’s automatic windshield wipers.
At the same time, the dispatcher came back over the radio.
“Attention all callsigns! The Air Force has confirmed the coordinates of the rocket launch! Repeat, coordinates of perpetrators have been confirmed, all available units respond! They are being downloaded to your IPMs,” Thapa saw a small “loading” bar appear in the top left corner of his IPM’s screen. “Update on the WMD: It is not NBC, repeat, no NBC. Officers in the area do not need radiation drugs, however, be advised that the area is heavily burning, and all fire department personnel should exercise extreme caution, over.” The dispatcher continued. Thapa could see dozens of flashing red, blue, and white dots appear on his computer, each representing a fire truck, patrol car, or ambulance respectively. While the ambulances and fire trucks were all converging upon ground zero, all the police units, in addition to every single military, police, and civilian helicopter, were heading towards the freshly downloaded location of the launch site. Thapa could see it appear after his download completed, slightly slower than usual due to the damaged state of his car. It was approximately six blocks away, and the Captain was one of the closes units to the scene. The fear inside Thapa’s gut quickly eroded, with a churning anger and rage taking it’s place. Who could possibly do such a thing? Not only did they murder almost the entire Nepali government, but also the popular leader of the world’s newest superpower, and not to mention the untold thousands of innocents that were undoubtedly wiped out of existence.


The Captain slammed his foot down upon the gas pedal, and the car surged forward down the street, and Thapa could feel that the vibration on the wheel was greater than usual, which was highly alarming for a Subaru Panther, a car that had virtually none when intact.
No, don’t break down now! I have to be the first there! I have to avenge all those deaths myself! It was my responsibility to protect my government and I must take the responsibility of stopping the monsters responsible for this…
Thapa suddenly lost all patience for the fleeing citizens ahead of him, and he blasted his car horn, shouting “Get out of the way! Get the hell out of the way!” through his megaphones. As the crowds scattered off to the sides of the road, the Captain cut loose on his speed, going as fast as he possibly could safely go. Speeding down the downtown areas farther away from the fires and explosion, he could see people running out of their homes to try to see what had just happened, many believing that war had broken out and that the Chinese were bombing the city. They didn’t know it now, but soon that thought would become a very real event.
As Thapa neared the target zone, keeping in close radio contact with HQ and his fellow officers, he began thinking through the possibilities of what would happen when he arrived. Would the suspects resist? Had they already fled, somehow staying out of sight of other citizens and UAV patrols? Or worse…did they have a second device that they would detonate upon police arrival. Thapa shuddered at this though and prayed to Shiva that this chilling threat would not happen. The sky was filled with helicopters, all coming down on one spot, while on the ground at least three other patrol cars were next to or behind Thapa’s, the expressions on their drivers’ faces the same as his: Angry, horrified, scared, vengeful.
As they passed from the main city to the slums, the environment changed dramatically, for the worse. The lines of three-storey apartment blocks and mini-markets gave way to tiny run down shacks. These “homes” were about the size of Thapa’s garage, and most of them had sagging rooftops; dirty, greasy windows; dirty and decaying wood doors; dim lights, and cracked walls. Many homes were made out of scrap materials recovered from leftovers at construction sites or city dumps. Most disturbingly, a few had bullet holes on them. Thapa was not unfamiliar to this area, quite the contrary. He had taken part in many operations in this area, handling incidents from, stick-ups, domestic abuse, robberies, bomb threats, drug-busts, to terrorist apprehension.
This was not a neighborhood one would want to walk the streets in at night.
“How could these guys set up a ****in’ rocket launcher in this place? I though the Army had this placed locked down tight!” He swore out loud. “Damn, lazy idiots!”
Thapa took his sidearm out, a SIG Sauer P220 9mm, and chambered a round, taking both hands off the wheel for a brief second. The launch site was just around the next corner, and he could feel his heart rate growing, his adrenaline kicking in, and his mind racing. His trained police instincts came to life at this moment, and Thapa began glancing around at his surroundings, scanning every passing alleyway or front porch for any signs of snipers or gunmen waiting to ambush him. He reached the next turn and veered his car to the right, his headlights shining down a long, narrow backstreet. In the yard of one of the larger homes, the only one with a garage. He stamped on the brakes, and the car jerked to a sudden stop.
“That’s the place! Move in! Move in!” He announced.
He flung open the door and stepped out, his sidearm pointed down the road, aimed at nothing in particular but ready to pump anything that moved full of lead in an instant.
At the same time at least fifteen other police cars pulled up in all directions around the launcher, officers emerging by the dozen.
Thapa squinted his eyes at five dark shapes strewn around the launcher. It didn’t take him long to realize that those were dead bodies.
“What the hell?” One of the other policemen , “They’re dead!”
He began moving forward when Thapa raised his hand, gesturing him to stop.
“Hold on, it could be a trap!” He raised his radio. “All officers, proceed with caution, I want two groups of five to begin searching the surrounding buildings and make sure there won’t be any nasty surprises for us!”
As the others barked back in acknowledgement, Thapa motioned the officers around him to move up, slowly. They uneasily made their way to the launcher, shining flashlights across the area. When they reached the yard with the dead suspects and makeshift Katyusha. There was no ambush. There was no extra explosion. Only what they saw before them, leaving the group puzzled and dumbfounded, clueless as to what the ramifications of what they just saw would be.


3. First Word


February 19th, 2021
Beijing, People’s Republic of China


National Policy Advisor Sun Zhang of the PRC’s Politburo rubbed his bloodshot eyes and aching temples. It was 1:49 AM in the morning, and he had just got out of yet another long, inconclusive meeting at the People’s Congress, making it the fifth day in a row that he lacked a full night of sleep. In fact, this would be the first night he would get any significant amount of sleep at all. The past week had seen a number of issues popping up, minor issues, but issues nevertheless. They ranged from new border disputes arising with Mongolia, a corruption scandal with a regional governor, to the most recent event: The Americans’ approval of a large scale arms shipment to the rebel Taiwanese consisting of prototype missile defense systems.
As the advisor to the Politburo Zhang was one of the most powerful men in China, and, in fact, the world. His advice was held closely by even the President, meaning that he could influence policies and laws more than the National People’s Congress. He lived a lavish life with three penthouses in Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Nanjing in addition to a large estate in the suburbs of Beijing, which was his primary home and where he was headed at the moment. He was whisked to wherever he pleased by a luxurious limo, which he was riding in at this moment. His limo was outfitted with a small LCD TV with cable, DVR, and Blue Ray functions. There was a wine holder, a fully reclining seat, and a surround sound audio system. He was entitled to all the free services and social privileges bestowed upon full time politburo members. It was not a bad life for a forty-six year old. He remembered a time when he would not have wielded so much authority, but recent restructuring of the People’s Republic’s government in 2018 under President Han San had created many new positions, such as Zhang’s. and rendered many others much more powerful and authoritative.
Despite his influence, Zhang was not, as some of his PNC rivals believed, the “real man in charge” of China, as the President could remove him from his post and send him off to clean toilet stalls for the rest of his life should the have any significant disagreements. He was not arrogant, far from it. He cared for his nation, and was proud to see China take her rightful place as one of the world’s most respected, and feared, nations. The Shanghai Cooperation Organization was now on par with, or even surpassing NATO as a global alliance. It’s members and client states ranged from the Far East to the backdoor of the USA itself. Zhang had a son and a daughter, both in the military, with the former a rifleman in the PLA and the latter an infantry fighting vehicle gunner in the Chinese Marine Corps. His wife was a worldwide famous poetry writer, and his father had a decorated general. He was proud of his country. China was one of the oldest civilizations in the world, and had resisted Japanese invasion and American and Soviet influence in the twentieth century, and had grown from a regional power to an advanced nation capable of standing up to America and their allies in a mere twenty years.
He had much to be proud of. Patriotism was his political motivation, not greed or hunger for power.
If only he could explain that to the critics.


He tried to shake away these thoughts for now and leaned his head back in the leather seat. He immersed himself in the classical Chinese music being played, always something that relaxed him. His young driver obviously didn’t care for it; he preferred modern rock and techno. Many a day Zhang had heard the Limo booming with heavy metal as soon as he exited.
The limo pulled into the gates of Zhang’s estate, past the security guards without any need to stop. The driver pulled straight up to the front of the mansion.
“We’re here sir.” The driver said, snapping Zhang from his doze. A quick glance at his watch showed that they had taken twice as long as usual to get home, which was understandable as traffic in Beijing was just as heavy in the night as it was in daytime, but annoying all the same.
“Very well.” Zhang stepped out of the vehicle and began stumbling over to the front door.
He could barely keep his enormously heavy eyelids open as he nodded to the night guardsman standing by the entrance. The guard opened the door for the exhausted politician and held it open as Zhang continued on in. The house was empty, save the two dozen or so employees on site, as Zhang’s wife was visiting her dying mother in Harbin. He wished he could be there for her, but the good of China superseded family affairs according to his fellow officials. The thought normally irked him, but right now all he could think of was going to lay down in his soft, queen sized bed. After he dressed for bed, forgoing a shower for now, he immediately collapsed on the bed and faded to black at once…only to be yanked out of rest by the shrill, loud, ringing from the phone next to his bed.
“Oh, hell…what now?” He grumbled, holding back the urge to say something far worse. He rolled over and reluctantly picked up the phone.
“Yes?”
It was his secretary. “Mr. Zhang, turn on the TV. Now.”
Zhang immediately sat up, something had to be wrong if it was that urgent.
He reached for the remote control for the television seated in front of his bed, grabbed it, and pressed the “on” switch. The TV was preset to always turn to the CNN world news channel when it was switched on. Being a government official meant that he was able to view foreign media that average citizens were forbidden to, lest they “become tainted with their propaganda.”
When he saw what was on instantly melted away the sleepiness and made him more awake than a prepubescent child on a caffeine rush.
There was a breaking news banner across the top of the screen, and there was aerial footage of a city, Zhang placed it as somewhere in Tibet or the Himalayas, with a massive circular crater in the center, with fires blazing in all directions around it. He could spot the flickering of dozens of emergency lights. Right off the bat, Zhang could already tell that a disaster of epic proportions had just taken place, and the first thing that came to mind based on the initial image was a nuclear or thermobaric explosion. Either way it would not be good, he wondered how many hundreds or thousands of people were dead. Turning the volume up, he could then hear the anchorwoman speaking.
“…emergency crews have largely contained the raging fires, but as you can see, vast portions of the downtown area have been destroyed…”
Downtown of where?! Immediately after thinking that, he noticed the label on the screen: Kathmandu.
“****…”
“Keep listening, sir.” The secretary insisted.
“…less than five hours after the catastrophic thermobaric explosion, Nepali authorities have already confirmed the deaths of over six-hundred citizens, a number that is guaranteed to rise considerably.” The anchorwoman continued as pictures of charred bodies and heavily injured victims were flashed across the screen.
“As you can see, the Parliament building has been completely destroyed, and authorities say that there is almost no hope for the survival of the Indian Prime Minister Ramiyah Chandara, or any of the Nepali politicians present at the Security summit. It is believed, but not confirmed, that only one Nepali Parliament member was not present at the meeting, and may be the highest ranking member in the government left.”
As soon as Zhang heard “Chandara,” and “no hope for survival,” his heart nearly stopped cold. His jaw dropped and, forgetting the secretary on the line, sat there, silent in terror, staring at the TV, hoping that he had misheard.
“Sir? Sir? Mr. Zhang!”
He shuddered as he responded. “Call the Politburo together. We’ll need to have a talk, immediately.”

[TheVoice777]

Originally posted by bruce57:
what if they were provoked? say, an attack on SA border guards by zimbabwean troops?

No i dont think so coz there is to much coruption between the top plititions aspecialy the two contries presidents...in other words they are buddies... Maby if a new party was voted in to replace the excisting one... either way SADF does not have the military power, man power or brain power to fight a war, at this stage they are only a peace keeping force at best...

they do have some of the best equipment and war machines though... sad realy in the 80's and 90's SA had one of the best militaries in the world...would have been able to give any major power a good *** wiping under equal terms...

But hey this is BRT's story...use the info or dont...

[N3V30]

Today maybe. But BTRs story is set in 2021. Alot can change in that time.

[TheVoice777]

Originally posted by N3V30:
Today maybe. But BTRs story is set in 2021. Alot can change in that time.

LMAO! Have you ever been to Africa...nothing changes quickly...

[bruce57]

that was the past. this is the future.

[BTR74]

Uh, I already explained my reasoning about the South Africa thing, can we focus on comments and critiques of my story pleaze? http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

[TheVoice777]

Originally posted by BTR74:
Uh, I already explained my reasoning about the South Africa thing, can we focus on comments and critiques of my story pleaze? http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

dont take offence...Like I said its your story and descision wether or not you want to use facts or fiction to base your story on...remember there is no spoon!

[BTR74]

3. First Word


February 19th, 2021
Beijing, People’s Republic of China


National Policy Advisor Sun Zhang of the PRC’s Politburo rubbed his bloodshot eyes and aching temples. It was 1:49 AM in the morning, and he had just got out of yet another long, inconclusive meeting at the People’s Congress, making it the fifth day in a row that he lacked a full night of sleep. In fact, this would be the first night he would get any significant amount of sleep at all. The past week had seen a number of issues popping up, minor issues, but issues nevertheless. They ranged from new border disputes arising with Mongolia, a corruption scandal with a regional governor, to the most recent event: The Americans’ approval of a large scale arms shipment to the rebel Taiwanese consisting of prototype missile defense systems.
As the advisor to the Politburo Zhang was one of the most powerful men in China, and, in fact, the world. His advice was held closely by even the President, meaning that he could influence policies and laws more than the National People’s Congress. He lived a lavish life with three penthouses in Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Nanjing in addition to a large estate in the suburbs of Beijing, which was his primary home and where he was headed at the moment. He was whisked to wherever he pleased by a luxurious limo, which he was riding in at this moment. His limo was outfitted with a small LCD TV with cable, DVR, and Blue Ray functions. There was a wine holder, a fully reclining seat, and a surround sound audio system. He was entitled to all the free services and social privileges bestowed upon full time politburo members. It was not a bad life for a forty-six year old. He remembered a time when he would not have wielded so much authority, but recent restructuring of the People’s Republic’s government in 2018 under President Han San had created many new positions, such as Zhang’s. and rendered many others much more powerful and authoritative.
Despite his influence, Zhang was not, as some of his PNC rivals believed, the “real man in charge” of China, as the President could remove him from his post and send him off to clean toilet stalls for the rest of his life should the have any significant disagreements. He was not arrogant, far from it. He cared for his nation, and was proud to see China take her rightful place as one of the world’s most respected, and feared, nations. The Shanghai Cooperation Organization was now on par with, or even surpassing NATO as a global alliance. It’s members and client states ranged from the Far East to the backdoor of the USA itself. Zhang had a son and a daughter, both in the military, with the former a rifleman in the PLA and the latter an infantry fighting vehicle gunner in the Chinese Marine Corps. His wife was a worldwide famous poetry writer, and his father had a decorated general. He was proud of his country. China was one of the oldest civilizations in the world, and had resisted Japanese invasion and American and Soviet influence in the twentieth century, and had grown from a regional power to an advanced nation capable of standing up to America and their allies in a mere twenty years.
He had much to be proud of. Patriotism was his political motivation, not greed or hunger for power.
If only he could explain that to the critics.


He tried to shake away these thoughts for now and leaned his head back in the leather seat. He immersed himself in the classical Chinese music being played, always something that relaxed him. His young driver obviously didn’t care for it; he preferred modern rock and techno. Many a day Zhang had heard the Limo booming with heavy metal as soon as he exited.
The limo pulled into the gates of Zhang’s estate, past the security guards without any need to stop. The driver pulled straight up to the front of the mansion.
“We’re here sir.” The driver said, snapping Zhang from his doze. A quick glance at his watch showed that they had taken twice as long as usual to get home, which was understandable as traffic in Beijing was just as heavy in the night as it was in daytime, but annoying all the same.
“Very well.” Zhang stepped out of the vehicle and began stumbling over to the front door.
He could barely keep his enormously heavy eyelids open as he nodded to the night guardsman standing by the entrance. The guard opened the door for the exhausted politician and held it open as Zhang continued on in. The house was empty, save the two dozen or so employees on site, as Zhang’s wife was visiting her dying mother in Harbin. He wished he could be there for her, but the good of China superseded family affairs according to his fellow officials. The thought normally irked him, but right now all he could think of was going to lay down in his soft, queen sized bed. After he dressed for bed, forgoing a shower for now, he immediately collapsed on the bed and faded to black at once…only to be yanked out of rest by the shrill, loud, ringing from the phone next to his bed.
“Oh, hell…what now?” He grumbled, holding back the urge to say something far worse. He rolled over and reluctantly picked up the phone.
“Yes?”
It was his secretary. “Mr. Zhang, turn on the TV. Now.”
Zhang immediately sat up, something had to be wrong if it was that urgent.
He reached for the remote control for the television seated in front of his bed, grabbed it, and pressed the “on” switch. The TV was preset to always turn to the CNN world news channel when it was switched on. Being a government official meant that he was able to view foreign media that average citizens were forbidden to, lest they “become tainted with their propaganda.”
When he saw what was on instantly melted away the sleepiness and made him more awake than a prepubescent child on a caffeine rush.
There was a breaking news banner across the top of the screen, and there was aerial footage of a city, Zhang placed it as somewhere in Tibet or the Himalayas, with a massive circular crater in the center, with fires blazing in all directions around it. He could spot the flickering of dozens of emergency lights. Right off the bat, Zhang could already tell that a disaster of epic proportions had just taken place, and the first thing that came to mind based on the initial image was a nuclear or thermobaric explosion. Either way it would not be good, he wondered how many hundreds or thousands of people were dead. Turning the volume up, he could then hear the anchorwoman speaking.
“…emergency crews have largely contained the raging fires, but as you can see, vast portions of the downtown area have been destroyed…”
Downtown of where?! Immediately after thinking that, he noticed the label on the screen: Kathmandu.
“****…”
“Keep listening, sir.” The secretary insisted.
“…less than five hours after the catastrophic thermobaric explosion, Nepali authorities have already confirmed the deaths of over six-hundred citizens, a number that is guaranteed to rise considerably.” The anchorwoman continued as pictures of charred bodies and heavily injured victims were flashed across the screen.
“As you can see, the Parliament building has been completely destroyed, and authorities say that there is almost no hope for the survival of the Indian Prime Minister Ramiyah Chandara, or any of the Nepali politicians present at the Security summit. It is believed, but not confirmed, that only one Nepali Parliament member was not present at the meeting, and may be the highest ranking member in the government left.”
As soon as Zhang heard “Chandara,” and “no hope for survival,” his heart nearly stopped cold. His jaw dropped and, forgetting the secretary on the line, sat there, silent in terror, staring at the TV, hoping that he had misheard.
“Sir? Sir? Mr. Zhang!”
He shuddered as he responded. “Call the Politburo together. We’ll need to have a talk, immediately.”



4. Gathering Strom Clouds

February 19th, 2021
Kathmandu, Nepal


Today was going to be a long day, Police Chief Tensing Devkota knew it. The forty-eight year old head of the Kathmandu Police District had seen his fair share of terrorist attacks over the past three years but nothing held a candle to the disaster unfolding before his eyes. With the National Police taking control of the local law enforcement groups for the HSA signing, Chief Devkota was to have had the night off. He had planned for a nice, quiet evening with his wife, watching their favorite shows on their newly acquired high-definition TV set and surround sound audio system.
Devkota had just been in the middle of plugging in the four-foot long, three foot high television screen in when the house was rocked by the thermobaric bomb’s shockwave, shattering a large number of valuables and dishware in the process. The minor damage to his house paled in comparison to the state of the downtown area, he could see as he drove to the scene of the crime, or more appropriately, the scene of an act of war. He had a gut feeling that the implications of this devastating attack would be on a far larger scale than just some angry rebels with deep pockets for weapons.
The direct after effects of the explosion had thankfully worn off by now. The raging fires had been contained, though not before they could level no less than half a dozen entire blocks, and emergency personnel were beginning to pick survivors out from the rubble.
There was, however, no hope for the survival of the Indian Prime Minister, or any of the politicians at the event. Nepal was virtually left leaderless, and Devkota wondered how they would find a qualified new head of state, with the entire Parliament wiped out as well. He shook his head of that thought.
That’s for someone else to worry about. I have my part to do.
He pulled up to a makeshift checkpoint at one of the streets leading to the launch site that was within the police perimeter. There were two circular piles of sandbags on each side of the road manned by assault rifle armed police officers wearing bulked up body armor and military style helmets with Plexiglas visors. Their eyes were burning with rage and anger, Devkota could tell, and he couldn’t blame them. Around the area was a ring of yellow “crime scene, do not cross” tape held up by small poles placed around the area. Naturally, there were crowds of curious citizens gathered just outside the tape marks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the police at work.
The Chief pulled his car up to the manually lifted gate in between the two sandbag piles, and an officer promptly marched up to the side of the car as Devkota lowered down the window.
“Identification?” The officer, a Lieutenant judging from the fact that he wore a blue beret rather than a helmet, asked bluntly.
Devkota fished around in his pocket and produced his badge and security clearance.
The officer looked them over and nodded.
“Head straight down and turn right at the next intersection, sir.”
“Thank you.” Devkota raised the window and continued on.
As he turned the corner, the launch site came into view. There were dozens of officers, detectives, and even Military Police scurrying around the site, exchanging information, searching for evidence and searching surrounding buildings for anything, just anything, that could lead to the people behind this.
There were at least five photographers, both from the media and the investigation, snapping away images of the launch device itself, a crudely made mangle of wires and metal with motorbike wheels bolted on the sides. Devkota pulled the car over to the designated parking area for the investigators, the lawn of one of the perpetrator’s unfortunate neighbors, and stepped out. He scanned the faces in the crowds of people, searching for the man he was supposed to meet.
“Chief?” He heard a voice call behind him. Turning around he could see Captain Thapa extending his hand.
“Good to see you Barati.” He replied taking, the hand. The Chief sighed, “So, you’ve got the area locked down, I see?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good job. I just hope none of the perps’ co-conspirators didn’t already tamper with the scene.”
Thapa shook his head. “I don’t think so sir. We got on them pretty fast. But you might want to see what we have found so far, it’s…intriguing.”
Devkota raised an eyebrow, “How so?”
“Come,” Thapa motioned to follow. He brought him over to a black and white van that had it‘s back doors open, where a man was handcuffed and masked. Devkota also noticed fresh bruises and cuts on him, and he had no illusions as to where they had come from. There was a detective inside sitting next to him, and although the Chief could not hear what was being said, it was clear that he was being questioned.
“I presume your officers suspect this one of foul play?” Devkota asked.
“A little more than just ’suspect,’ sir. We found this guy in a nearby apartment bloc, at the top floor when we were sweeping the area. He was renting an room on the top floor, which we checked first to make sure there weren’t any snipers. He was unusually nervous when we asked to come in, and openly refused. When the officers kicked down the door he attempted to flee out the fire escape but was apprehended by officers on the ground. We ran a check on his ID, and it turns out he’s been living here illegally under a false name.”
Devkota groaned, knowing that this whole thing was just going to keep getting worse.
“I see. What else did you find out about him?”
“Not much,” Thapa shook his head grimly. “We know that his first name is Nguyen, but not what his last name is. A quick search of his facial image in the Interpol database brought up some nasty results. It turns out that this ‘Nguyen’ fellow has been involved in just about every nasty activity you can be in. We have confirmed images of him taking part in human and narcotics smuggling groups, Thai separatist organizations, communist terror cells, the Chinese mafia, and even as a partisan fighting in the Southeast Asian conflict a few years back.”
“Sounds like a gentleman.” Devkota scoffed.
“But wait, it gets better. We have a particularly interesting image of him here…” Thapa reached into his bag and pulled out a photo of Nguyen meeting with a sharply dressed man with a traditional moustache and shaved head.
He immediately recognized the face.
“Yean Wang…” Wang was a notorious Chinese intelligence agent who had been compromised in part of a mass spy ring in the Thai Parliament in 2020. Unlike the others, he managed to flee the country and get political asylum in his homeland.
“So you think he’s involved with the Chinese government?”
“It would appear that way.” Thapa agreed.
Things just kept getting worse indeed. So they had the head of the Indian government and the entire Nepali Parliament dead, an apparent rogue thermobaric bomb, and a co-conspirator with connections to the Chinese Ministry of State Security.
Wonderful. Devkota rubbed his forehead, which was already starting to ache. He noticed the outlines of the bodies of the perps around the launcher drawn in chalk.
“What about the dead terrorists? Have you determined the cause of death?”
“They’re in the morgue now, but judging from what I saw I’d guess that they took some form of Cyanide. They were unconscious when we arrived, but were still alive, they began convulsing and twitching after about forty to forty-five minutes, and then finally died. All consistent with the effects of approximately three-hundred milligrams of the poison. They probably knew that there was no way out and planned on going out like this. Damn, I wish they somehow failed, I would love to just strangle the hell out of each and every one of those bastards…” Thapa growled, trembling with rage. “I can’t believe someone could do this. I knew those pigs were heartless but I would never have thought that they would be vicious enough to destroy a whole chunk of the city like that! And that Nguyen guy? He doesn’t have a speck of guilt. He’s only sorry that he got caught, that piece of ****!”
The Chief let out of breath of sympathy. “I’m sure we all want to just kill this criminal, but we’ve got to stick to our laws, the sooner we can squeeze some info out of his sorry little head, the sooner we can get an answer as to how and why these people did this.”
“Stick to our laws? With all respect sir, **** the laws! We should just beat it out of him! Do you think he’ll spill his guts if we just sit down and have a nice firm chat?”
Devkota silenced the Captain with a raise of his hand. “There may be some laws that’ll allow us to do more than you think, Captain. Believe me, sooner or later we’ll find out who’s behind this…and we’ll hunt them down like roaches. Mark my words, the killers will pay. ”
Thapa took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and slowly nodded.
“I hope you’re right, Chief. I hope you are…” A said as he stared at the Katyusha that had just hours ago launched the very missile that killed hundreds of people, including some of his best men and women.

[superkrait]

Is this a new story, or a reworked version of the one you used to post on the endwar forum? Looks good - probably a few tiny holes in the background, but nothing that can't be justified by artistic license (or even a slip of the mind http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-wink.gif).

PS, if youd like a more technical critique I might be able to find some time later. I used to be mentored in creative writing by someone with a PhD on the subject. But your writing is certainly good enough if youre just writing for fun. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/metal.gif

[BTR74]

Technically, this is a re-write of the original, but for all intents and purposes, its a new story from the ground up (it's been edited beyond recognition). http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif

And yeah, the main problem I have in writing is working out coherent reasons for my events and remembering changes I make as I go along

And lastly, thanks http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_biggrin.gif

[xxxthatcherxxx]

i ddnt think youd actually be able to do it but youve done it. even worse than the last bravo



http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_razz.gif

[BTR74]

I see the army life hasn't changed you one bit :P
Welcome back

[xxxthatcherxxx]

u got odst bob?

[BTR74]

Not yet. Waiting for my next pay check http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/shady.gif

[xxxthatcherxxx]

you mean paper round http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-very-happy.gif

got paid bought myself an elite.....................cus i can a ha

[MrRandom004]

Originally posted by BTR74:
I see the army life hasn't changed you one bit :P
Welcome back

Well to be fair the attacks he does on caves isn't like what they do in afghanistan:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nvs5pqf-DMA

[bruce57]

which one r u jay?

welcome back

[BTR74]

5. Standing on the Trap Door



The Black Sea coastal area
February 19th, 2021



“Incoming! Get your heads down!”
Joe Richter, a twenty-nine year old lieutenant from Des Moines Iowa, in the 26th MEU 2nd Battalion of the 6th Marines (Echo Company), had never expected to do this sort of assignment when he enlisted.
The SCO was swarming the tiny nameless, town that he and his platoon was ordered to defend, with droves of infantry charging in. The indigenous personnel that were supposed to be his backup lay dead, as well as a number of his teammates. A shoulder-launched rocket smashed into the ground ten feet away from him, kicking up chunks of pavement.
There was no air support.
There was no artillery to call in.
There would be no armored cavalry that would swoop in to save them.
Just him, and what was left of his eight Marine platoon.
“Lieutenant! I need a Kriss mag!” Sgt. Ken Hunter, Richter’s second in command, called out. He was sitting up against a bullet ridden SUV, right beside Richter, aiming his Swiss-made TDI Kriss .45 caliber submachine gun around the corner. The Kriss was a quite popular weapon among specialized units in the Corps, despite the fact that it wasn’t the even standard submachine gun for the US Armed Forces. It was appreciated for it’s high stopping power and low recoil, though it did have a tendency to eat up ammo rather quickly.
“Here!” Joe pulled out a spare clip and tossed it to him. Ken lifted his hand off his wounded left leg to catch it.
As soon as he saw that Ken caught the clip, Joe swung around the SUV to fire another burst at the advancing hostiles down the street, taking out the guy with the launcher.
Then, two more of Joe’s platoon mates dashed up to him. They were Mike Vance and Jake Reynolds, two of the platoon’s three riflemen, both around the age of twenty-five. Mike was a proud techie, always the one people called when they had any electronic problems at all, from figuring out a computer download, to fixing glitches on video game consoles. He was 5’8 and a bit on the slim side. Jake, on the other hand, was a six foot tall, strong-bordering-on-brutish, sports fanatic. He memorized the players and stats of nearly every basketball team in the NBA and NCAA, and he even considered joining the OSU Buckeyes once he could scrounge up the money to pay for tuition.
“Sir, I’m not sure if we can hold this place. More reds are inserting from the east by helos.” Mike shouted.
Joe swore then called HQ; “Control, Control! When can we get the hell out of here?!”
There was no response, not even the sound of static.
“Damn it, Bravo hasn’t taken out the jammers!”
A round whizzed by Joe’s head, missing by mere inches.
“Christ, Lieutenant! Keep your head down!” Reynolds cried.
Joe ducked, muttered another four letter word and paused for a few seconds.
“This sucks.” He said finally.
“A fine observation, sir. But what do we do about it?”
Richter pondered for a moment, running possible solutions to the situation through his head.
“I want you two, plus Green and Kowalski up in the town hall. I want sniper and SAW fire on anyone with so much as a pointed stick!” Joe ordered, referring to the Squad Automatic rifleman, or riflewoman in this case, Isabelle Green, and the designated marksman Jason Kowalski.
“You getting this guys?” Richter asked Jason and Green over the comm system.
“That’s an affirmative sir.” Green said.
“Good, now hurry.” Joe felt a round penetrate the side of the SUV and slug into his armored vest. He looked down to see if he was bleeding….and the world went dark. The sounds of battle silenced instantly with a single click.

He heard the muffled voice of an officer shouting, though he could barely make out the words. “Okay people! We’ve got to finish early today. Looks like a storm‘s moving in.”
He lifted the visor on his helmet to see his “dead” teammates get off the ground, grunting as they stretched.
The only things that were really there were the Marines, a few wooden building skeletons, vehicle mock ups, and a few instructors standing on forty foot tall overseeing towers.
The enemies had been mere AI controlled illusions on their virtual reality screens. Normally the OpFor would be played by other allied troops, though high command wanted to test out the new artificial intelligence program DARPA had meticulously developed. No actual bullets had been fired; all guns had MILES Mark Two attachments which simulated bullets based on the current weapon and environmental settings.
Many Marines, Joe included, felt a little embarrassed to be seen running around in an empty mock town wearing goofy, bulky helmets and wiry costumes yelling about a battle that wasn’t happening and pretending to shoot at nothing, but it was good training.

The whole scenario was a small but vital part of a multinational training operation as part of the NATO exercise Trap Door in the Black Sea. In this exercise, the troops were “invading“ a theoretical rogue Eastern European state (Russia) on EU orders. Trap Door included contingents from the air, amphibious, and naval forces of the United States, Canada, France, Bulgaria, Romania, Turkey, Georgia, Greece, Albania, Azerbaijan, and Italy. The exercise was intended to test the alliance’s ability to launch a large scale amphibious attack on a well prepared hostile nation, presumably Ukraine or China. With over twenty-thousand personnel taking part, it was the largest training operation in a year, and forced countries with longstanding rivalries to cooperate for a common goal.
The area of operations was Cape Emine on the coast of Bulgaria, fifty miles south of the largest coastal city in the country and major tourist site, Varna, as well as being just over thirty miles north of the second largest coastal city, Burgas. Both cities were home to Bulgarian Navy bases, which made Cap Emine a natural fit for local forces participating in the exercise.
In Richter’s ever-so-humble opinion, the region was probably the best place for Brussels to have picked for the exercise. The area had beautiful beaches with soft, bright sand and rolling hills peppered with the remains of ancient monasteries and old lighthouses. They were just a stone throw away from high class resorts and hotels, and the locals were friendly and hospitable, if a bit annoyed that their beaches were being blanketed with armored vehicles and various gear that appeared as junk to a civilian. The area once called “the Red Riviera” would have been perfect for time on the beach had there not been one small factor added. It was winter time, and for the last few years Cape Emine had been the stormiest area along the coast, particularly in February, alongside freezing temperatures. The water was icy cold, and Richter and his Marines had to wade through it at least seven times for amphibious assault training lessons, while the Bulgarian instructors overseeing them laughed mercilessly as they tried to scramble out of the water and onto shore like crazed swimmers fleeing from a shark attack. The land training was no better, as the sea affected wind chills made the temperatures as low as twenty-six degrees Fahrenheit. Not exactly an ideal trip to a beach. The local authorities said that weather had been acting erratically in recent years, alternating between scorching hot summers and easy winters to subzero winters and comfortable summers.

“Okay Marines, form up on me. Hustle up!” Joe Richter hollered to his platoon. He turned to an approaching Bulgarian Army officer who had been overseeing his unit‘s progress. “Hey, what’s up? Why‘d we get called off?”
“Lieutenant,” The officer, thirty-five-year-old Georgi, said with a thick, jolly Slavic accent, “Like I say, there’s a nasty snowstorm coming in.” He pointed up at the sky, which was ominously dark gray, ready to open up at any moment. “Your Navy doesn’t want to risk any landing craft capsizes, so amphibious exercise for the afternoon has been cancelled.” He grinned and added, “Consider yourself lucky.”
Richter blinked; then sighed in relief. “Really dodged a bullet on that one.” He said with a laugh.
The Bulgarian laughed along and said in fractured, but understandable English. “Oh, I hear there’s other reason too.”
“Really?” Richter raised an eyebrow. “What might that be?
Shrugging, the officer replied cryptically, “Something going on in Asia. India I believe.”
Thoroughly intrigued, Richter craved for more information, and he gave in to an old, bad habit of his: Insisting until he heard what he want.
“Buddy, you’ve got my attention, what are the details?”
“I don’t know details yet,” The officer said humbly, “I only heard rumors from radio chatter. Check on TV when you get back to base, maybe if it’s important it’ll still be on.”
Richter nodded, “Okay, you’re right. See you later Georgi.”
The Bulgarian waved and turned around to leave as his platoon of Marines was now gathering around him, including the “dead“ guys Ray Moore, Greg Thompson, and Eric Braun.
“Aw, man. And I was about to get my hundredth kill on this thing.” Mike Vance whined.
“Oh, no. If you got just six more points you would have been promoted to a level sixty warlock.” Moore teased, reducing Vance‘s goals to that of a nerd’s on an online video game.
“Bite me.” Mike Vance dismissed.
“Aw, who’s the poor little baby?” Moore went on.
“Me,” Vance replied with a frown.
Joe could only shake his head.
And these are supposed to be the guys who would watch my back in a firefight? They I wouldn’t trust these idiots to guard a chicken coop… Richter thought with a chuckle. They were mostly new recruits, just out of Paris Island. He would make them into true Marines yet.
“Hey Joe, what’s up with the early dismissal? We do that bad?” Asked Isabelle.
Richter snorted in agreement. “Possibly. But the officers are trying to make us feel good, so they’re blaming it on those storm cloud up above. Georgi also told me he heard something’s going down in Asia, so let’s meet up with the other jarheads and let’s get moving. I want to see what is.” He emphasized the last sentence word by word like a grumpy boss demanding to find out how well an employee is going along on a big project.
Green nodded knowingly, “Understood.”
Despite being the daughter of a high ranking official in Washington, Isabelle Green was one of the few relatively experienced Marines under Richter’s command, and the two had both fought in combat together. In her first year, she had seen fighting in the Lebanese conflict, and the year after, a raid in Somalia. Richter sensed that her father wasn’t too keen on allowing her in combat, particularly fearing what may happen should she get captured, but he always lobbied for her to be deployed in combat just like any other war fighter. The Marines gathered up with their comrades and allies to load back up on the Ospreys and get a quick ride back to the US base camp twelve miles west.

[BTR74]

http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_frown.gif

[bruce57]

this is fantastic, BTR. http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_wink.gif

[TheVoice777]

Hey that was not bad, I actualy want to read more...and im not realy some one who reads alot of story books...whens the next update?

[xxxthatcherxxx]

Originally posted by MrRandom004:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by BTR74:
I see the army life hasn't changed you one bit :P
Welcome back

Well to be fair the attacks he does on caves isn't like what they do in afghanistan:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nvs5pqf-DMA </div></BLOCKQUOTE> i watched that five minutes ago

[BTR74]

A stone throw away north, another group was just now wrapping up the lessons of the day. Safe from the rain inside a long, refurbished, warehouse turned training area, men and women from some of the most elite units on the face of the Earth were overseeing the nurturing and development of a handful of select fledgling SpecOps groups from the lesser powers in the Atlantic Alliance, such as the Albanian Army Commandos, the Georgian SOD, and the Romanian “Eagles.”
The large spaces of the old warehouse had been divided into three zones, one for each group, which they alternated and used as stations. One was a firing range complete with moving targets and adjustable cover, another was an obstacle course with tires, barbed wire, climbing walls and other assorted barriers, and the last was a close quarters battle area. This was the largest section and arguably the core of the whole building. Consisting of a maze of walls, doors, rooms, and hallways, the CQB section was sprinkled with mannequins which each had a different role, ranging from civilians, which were to be avoided, to enemy combatants, which were, obviously, to be shot. The latter of which were often given outlandishly angry faces and exaggerated poses by their designers, leading to their humorous, if unimaginative nickname “Mr. ****head.” When the unit using the QCB course was in action, their every move was observed via video camera by their instructors, who sat in a small room adjacent to the course. For beginners, the instructors often contacted their trainees over radio to correct errors and make suggestions, while later on the soldiers were required to play out the scenario all on their own, to be evaluated afterward and given a grade on the basic American A through F scale. Sound effects such as screams, gunfire, and fire alarms were blared into the course, and added to the overall stress of the exercises.

The current users of the course, the Albanians, had concluded minutes ago a particularly tough hostage-rescue sim, which had lasted nearly three hours and involved every required aspect of counter terrorism: Stealth, precision, speed, critical decision making, strong nerves, negotiation skills, and concentration. It was tough, and the instructor teams, one the newly formed American Navy SEAL team Baklava, the other a two man fireteam from the French Army’s Brigade des Forces Spéciales Terre, or BFST. They normally had a third operator on the team, but she had broken her leg in a helicopter accident.
The two BFST commandos sat at a round, metallic table with their MREs placed on Styrofoam party plates in front of them, their “dinner” for the evening, if one could call it such. They were Lieutenant Bernard Bayrou and Major Michel Aiton, aged thirty-five and thirty seven respectively. They were both hardened veterans who had been on various black ops, covert missions, around the world. Bayrou had previously been assigned to a team that specialized in African warfare, and he had been deployed on well over a dozen counter-piracy missions in Somalia, and throwing in every other mission he had done there, he had been to the volatile East African nation more times than he could count…and would have preferred. This earned him his nickname “Black Beard,” after the clichéd pirate. Off duty, Bayrou was known to be an amateur marine biologist, saving his money for trips to exotic reefs and diving locations where he and his wife could marvel at hundreds of colorful fish and bizarre creatures such as sea cucumbers and giant clams.

Bayrou had grown up on the Mediterranean city of Marseille, on a beachside home only a short swim away from a natural coral formation rich with life, and he had initially hoped to join the French naval special forces, but soon found that he preferred diving out of planes and fast-roping out of helicopters rather than swim through dark waters at nighttime, where who knew what was swimming underneath them without their knowing. The very thought had made him shudder when he thought about it, and his above-average knowledge on sea life, he knew what exactly would be in the water with him. Needless to say, he only enjoyed diving during daytime in clear waters where he could see what was near him and navigate accordingly. He had enlisted in the regular army, and soon found himself outperforming his comrades at physical courses and shooting ranges, his arm muscles built be steady by his constant swimming in his youth. When stationed in Afghanistan during the twilight years of the conflict there, he had been highly decorated when he almost single handedly held off a mass Taliban ambush on his patrol, that had wounded or killed most of his platoon mates within minutes. In the prolonged battle, he had hurled grenades, covered medics, dragged wounded buddies, and suppressed attackers under heavy fire and stress. It was at that time when he was invited to try out for the elite BFST. Bayrou found that the special forces training was not as breezy as the basic had seemed, and he initially struggled. After briefly considering to give up, he pulled himself together and fought through the brutal selection process where less than ten percent of the candidates passed and earned their newfound place in the unit. Over the ‘10s, he had been involved in critical proxy wars of the New Cold War, including the standoff with the Chinese in the Congo, the Azeri-Armenian border clash, and the Pan-African War. He had yet to fail a mission.
Major Aiton, his superior, was a different story. He had always been an achiever in the military, rising through the ranks of the military like it was nothing. He had been a Lieutenant at the age of twenty-three and was leading troops into battle. He had been offered to join nearly every special operations unit in the military, and he chose the BFST. He didn’t have much of a civilian life, almost always on duty somewhere in the world, whether taking down a worldwide wanted terrorist or stealing files on a new SCO officer or weapon, he was always on the go, always taking some sort of risk, always putting himself on the line for his country. He owned a small apartment in Paris, where he resided in what little time he had on leave. His face full of scars, thus earning his nickname “Hitman.”

The SEALs were a quite diverse group as well. To the Bayrou’s surprise, they were not as arrogant or rude as he had expected them based on his previous experience with Americans. There were four of them, all equipped with the most advanced Land Warrior uniforms available to US forces and top of the line SCAR family assault rifles. Their leader, Commander Eli Liebermann, was a thirty-two-year-old who had much experience in the field of covert operations dating back to the late Insurgency War in Iraq way back during the early days of the highly controversial War on Terror. He was tough but understanding, and highly dependable if you needed someone to watch your back.
The youngest member, Seaman Carl Smith, was twenty-five; and was the team’s designated marksman. He was a bit naïve and often asked too many questions, but was still well liked and his skills on the range were admirable. He had even been told that he could qualify for an Olympic rifle shooter, but he declined, saying that he preferred to use his talents to do good and serve his nation. This was his first operation in the SEALs, and he had learned the hard way that life as a SEAL is not always as exciting as it was in the movies. He was the one member who didn’t normally use standard weaponry, preferring to use his favorite MK14 EBR, an upgraded 7.62x51 vintage M14 rifle. For this exercise he had reluctantly accepted to use the SCAR for the sake of easier logistics.
Seaman Tim Wallace was the rifleman, a native of Cleveland, Ohio. He was a big fan of heavy rock and roll and often listened to it before each operation. He had visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a teenager, a place he considered to be the closest thing to Heaven on Earth.
Then there was Chief Petty Officer Ricardo “Rick” Torrez. The support gunner of the team; he was a thirty-year-old Hispanic Arizonan. He had only a few years of service in the Navy as a SEAL, yet had been awarded a whole cabinet full of awards for bravery in action and more Purple Hearts than he would have cared for. His teammates often teased him for it, calling him “Swiss cheese” for having been shot so many times. He had grown tough from it though, as he had already been from growing up in a rough neighborhood in Phoenix. His family had lived in a small, three room apartment and his parents seemed to be perpetually out of work, especially during the short-lived and minor but frequent recessions that occurred in the mid ‘10s. While many of his neighborhood friends ended up turning to gangs and drugs, often to their own misfortune at the hands of police, Torrez fought to be successful. He was an Honor Roll student through school and was barely below having good enough grades to receive a free scholarship to college.
His family could only scrap together enough money to send him themselves in their dreams, so he decided to earn money for it in the military, joining the United States Navy. With the overall going for the coveted SEALs. Training was long and physically crushing, but he made it, and soon found himself second in command in the newly formed “Baklava” team.
The entire SEAL team answered to a CO named Mack Thompson, who was currently at an officers’ meeting at the Trap Door operational command center.

The SEALs had debriefing the Albanians over their high and low points in the scenario, and when they finished up, they exchanged salutes and broke off, the latter heading back to their barracks, and the former heading over to the table to join their French counterparts.
“So,” Aiton said as the group seated themselves on their folding plastic chairs. “Overall, how do you think they did?”
Liebermann nodded, as though he was considering the factors. “I’d say they did pretty good, given the circumstances. They were trained to fight conventional battles against the Serbs, so this is kind of new to them. But I say the good outdid the bad.”
“Yeah, it’s tough for small SpecOps teams these days, having to split between counter-terror and normal warfare and all. What’s your take Mike? Bern?”
“Ah, it’s always been that way, they’ll adapt.” Bayrou remarked. He then decided to change the subject of the conversation, not feeling like talking about war or politics at the moment. “So, do any of you Yanks watch football?”
To that their eyes lit up and they collectively replied. “Oh, yeah,”
“Didn’t know the French cared about it,” Smith said.
Puzzled, Bayrou tilted his head. “You didn’t know? We Europeans bleed in our team colors. Did any of you catch the Slovak-German game last season? Oh, man, the job Johan did was outstanding!” He was referring to the previous FIFA championship game. To this, Bayrou drew blank stares. Realizing what had just happened, he laughed. “Oh, that’s right. Your Americans. I was talking about, er, what do you call it?”
“Soccer?” Torrez asked.
“Yeah, soccer. My bad.”
Several of the Americans mumbled disappointedly, “Oh,”
“It’s alright, I’m sure we’ll find something in common over the next few days.” Bayrou joked.
“Yeah,” Liebermann replied. “I am too.”
At that time, the SEAL leader’s cell phone vibrated, and he promptly answered.
“Liebermann,” Bayrou heard Mack Thompson’s voice on the other end respond. “We’ve got a situation. Report back to HQ on the double!”
“What kind of situation, sir?” Liebermann asked.
The answer was simple, yet dead on accurate: “A nasty one.”

[superkrait]

looks good, but this bayrou is a bit of a wuss... some of the best diving is to be had at night!

[N3V30]

FIFA championship game.....

[BTR74]

Okay N3V30, I mean the World Cup...or whatever the big soccer game is...I don't know about soccer, crucify me.

@Superkrait, I know, Im trying to make characters that actually have flaws/imperfections so I dont end up with a bunch of stereotypical macho-brave-superheros.

[Commander672]

Originally posted by BTR74:
Liebermann asked.
The answer was simple, yet dead on accurate: “A nasty one.”

Giggidy!

[N3V30]

Originally posted by BTR74:
Okay N3V30, I mean the World Cup...or whatever the big soccer game is...I don't know about soccer, crucify me.

@Superkrait, I know, Im trying to make characters that actually have flaws/imperfections so I dont end up with a bunch of stereotypical macho-brave-superheros.

...You really don't. It's called FOOTBALL.

[BTR74]

Semantics.

[TheVoice777]

Originally posted by N3V30:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by BTR74:
Okay N3V30, I mean the World Cup...or whatever the big soccer game is...I don't know about soccer, crucify me.

@Superkrait, I know, Im trying to make characters that actually have flaws/imperfections so I dont end up with a bunch of stereotypical macho-brave-superheros.

...You really don't. It's called FOOTBALL. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Depends where you live...the yank's football is a whole other game so is ozzy football... I think its only the europian countries and the brits that calls soccer football...

[superkrait]

Im pretty sure its football everywhere except the US, Australia and NZ, cos we have different codes. Hell, in Australia 'football' means one of 3 different sports depending where you live, thats not even including soccer.

But just to annoy BTR, world cup wont be on in 2021 http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/16x16_smiley-wink.gif. Still writing?

[N3V30]

It doesn't matter where you live.

You can't call a sport where you carry a ball (thats not even ball shaped) football.


And it could have been a qualifing match.

[BTR74]

It was actually just supposed to be in referrence to a previous World Cup, not an ongoing or recently finished one, because I'm not familiar with soc- football schedules and seasons


And N3V30, after 100+ years...it's kind of hard to just change the name...but I've never really been into American football anyways, basketball's more my thing

And yes I am still working on this thing, just started up again after a serious case of writer's block

[BTR74]

Worldwide

The news of the death of the vastly popular leader spread to every corner of the vast nation like a plague, as every national and local news outlet picked up on the nearly incomprehensible news. The images of the flattened city blocks and the smoke-choked sky shocked and horrified millions of viewers, and it did not take long for the inevitable outrage to sink in. All across the subcontinent columnists began formulating hypotheses over exactly who had supplied the Maoists with the warhead. Some pointed the finger at Pakistan, India’s archenemy, others suspected the workings of an Jihadist group, possibly funded by Iran. A few tossed around other theories, saying that it was related to the theft of several components for the cold fusion research facility in Kanpur by pirates, despite repeated assurances from authorities that the components were nothing special. Chandara’s wife nearly fainted when she was told that her husband had been incinerated by a small gang of ruthless thugs, along with hundreds of others.
Tens of thousands of citizens, from different ethnic groups, castes, political ideals, and religions gathered in New Delhi to stand together in mourning of the loss of what possibly was most successful reformist Prime Minister in the modern history of the country. From the shantytowns to the suburbs, flags soon appeared over nearly every house, and at the United Nations building in New York, thousands of Indian American joined the grieving. The loss of Chandara represented more than just a death of a popular figure, for many, it meant the end of a just beginning wave of hope and progress for India; shattered dreams of bringing the wretched to an acceptable standard of living, dreams of exploiting India’s newfound superpower status to thrust the nation among the world’s leading powers. Over the coming days, the people of the diverse and often bitterly divided country would unite as one, all chanting the same rallying call: “Remember Kathmandu!!”
Western media outlets showed massive crowds bearing candles and flags attending makeshift ceremonies set up in haste by local community organizers.
In western media outlets, political commentators began debating over the culprits as well, with right wing talking heads generally pointing their finger at their favorite punching bags, the Russians and Iranians, while their left wing equivalents tended to speak of some form of vast conspiracy, perhaps involving a major corporation of some sort. Scarcely a day passed before they began attacking each other over who would or will handle the situation best, with petty insults and pointless debates following. It was all the typical partisan nonsense, and none of their theories leaded to anything more than increased outrage against the SCO; phone calls, letters, and e-mails poured into politicians’ offices demanding that they do something in support of India. Some radical elements were even calling for immediate troop deployments in Asia, never mind the potential provocations they would cause. The outrage was so severe and so quick, that NATO called emergency meetings to discuss contingency plans. The US and Royal navies placed their fleets in Diego Garcia, a key naval base in the Indian Ocean, on high alert, ready to deploy if needed. NATO’s secretary general made a speech about the alliance’s utmost sympathy to the Indian people and reaffirmed their support for the Asian powerhouse.
Though no specific culprit had yet been uncovered, it was obvious to all observers that a major incident was imminent, that someone would pay for the ordeal, guilty or not.

6. Revelations


Police Capital Area Precinct
Kathmandu, Nepal
February 22, 2021


The three days since the attack had been the fastest in Chief Devkota’s life. In that short period of time, the entire city and surrounding countryside were brought to a complete standstill by the imposition of martial law; fully equipped soldiers were posted at every corner of the streets, their rifles loaded and chambered. Gun trucks and infantry fighting vehicles were patrolling the city day and night, and the entire fleet of Indian made helicopter gunships from Nepal’s modest air force continued to sweep the city during strict nighttime curfews, this time equipped with IR and night vision, allowing no one to roam outdoors undetected. Dozens of people had been arrested for being out past the deadline of nine o’clock, though the police generally released them right after, not wasting their time with such petty infractions, needing all available
The top generals of the army had taken control of the positions once held by the assassinated parliament, and an intern government was slapped together from anyone in the nation with any sort of political experience until elections could be set organized.
Devkota rubbed his tense forehead as he looked over the progress report on the investigation laid on his desk this morning. The detectives had been hard at work gathering as much info as they could as quickly as possible. Seven suspected co-conspirators had been arrested and were in custody, and Devkota had no illusions as to how they would be interrogated, now that the police had been authorized to use the Nepali State of Emergency Laws which allowed for “enhanced interrogation techniques,” a code word for torture dating back to the controversial War on Terror twenty years ago. That Nguyen fellow would not be walking for at least two months after his questioning.
The police were currently digging through the deceased terrorists’ computers in hopes of uncovering more data on who their suppliers were. It was of utmost importance that they track down and eliminate whoever had the technology to create such destructive weapons. If they had sold it to such ruthless and amoral Maoists, who would they sell it to next? Would Washington be the next city? Brussels? Mumbai? Tokyo? The danger was simply astounding, and the head of the National Police had immediately called a meeting with officials from American and European intelligence agencies to help coordinate an international manhunt.

Meanwhile, the bewildered Chief had to sort through what little intel he had, based primarily on what had been extracted from Nguyen. The man had been hard to crack, as most fanatics were, but he finally did after immense pain that no man could endure, and he had finally spilled some vital information. The group they had been working for was an offshoot of the main Maoist movement. Unlike the others, this cell was hell bent on not only overthrowing the current government, but cold bloodedly killing off anyone who did not agree with their views, which explained why they felt it reasonable to destroy the center of the city and everyone in it just to assassinate a political figure. The group, ironically named the “Army for Popular Justice and Equality,” was based in the city of Simikot, deep within rebel controlled territory, and openly came into conflict with the primary rebel coalition, killing their soldiers and supporters. The APJE, unlike most other terror groups, did not ever claim responsibility for their attacks, preferring to remain anonymous, which is why Devkota had never heard of them before. The group had a total of only twenty or so members, and Nguyen was more than happy to give their names in exchange for keeping his fingers. This was all very good news which would be invaluable for the upcoming crackdown, but none of this helped answer or even give clues as to who gave them the vacuum warhead.
Devkota leaned back in his chair, took a sip from his personalized “world’s best cop” coffee mug, and looked out the window. The blast zone was out of visual range from here, but his thoughts were immediately drawn to the suffering he witnessed. Children wailing as their charred parents were shoved into body bags. People digging through rubble in search of their family and friends only to find their lifeless and gruesomely crushed remains. The screams of the injured as their clothes were literally scrapped off their skin as doctors frantically tried to reach their wounds. He silently vowed that he would find whoever had made the warhead that brought so much death to his country, and personally jam a cigarette through his or her eye. It seemed only fair to give them a small sample of the torment they inflicted on so many hundreds of people.
His eyes returned back to the papers on his desk when his cell phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID and saw that it was the National Police officer Thapa.
“What have you got?” Devkota answered, getting straight to business.
“Chief, my officers just got something big, I think you should see it. We just finished searching the perps’ computers and we found a gold mine of stuff…but it’s bad news, real bad. I’m sending a copy of what we found, you got your laptop?”
“Hang on,” Devkota reached into the carrying bag at his side and pulled out his thin, high powered wireless laptop and fired it up. “All right, did you send it?” He asked eagerly.
“Yeah,” Thapa replied, “Don’t get excited, chief. You won’t like it.”
Devkota wondered what could possibly be so bad about the intel that Thapa would think he wouldn’t like it? Was one of his police officers involved? It would be answered in a few seconds, as soon as the main screen loaded, Devkota hit the mail button and clicked on the most recent message.
According to the label, it was a copy of a brief message received in the terrorists’ safe house, from someone named “H.Zhi.”

To: N.Pa@Networx.net
From: H.Zhi
Re: Product

Mr. Pa, I would like to thank you for your business. It was a pleasure. We hope you find your item satisfactory and will put it to good use. Mr. Lian is highly looking forward to seeing your operation succeed. Our only request is that you keep us out of the picture when you use it, for obvious reasons.

Regards. Zhi.

It didn’t take long for Devkota to figure out what was going on.
“Holy-! Zhi? Doctor Huang Zhi? This can‘t be true. He died last year.” He knew that he was simply desperate. Desperate that there could be some explanation that would prevent this from being true, as he knew what was surely to follow should this be authentic.
“So they say,” Thapa replied dryly.
“My God, Lieutenant, I hope you don’t think that ‘Lian’ is-”
“President Peng Lian. I’m afraid that’s exactly what we believe.”
This was unbelievable. He had expected this conspiracy to potentially involve a foreign nation but he had never expected it to go as far as the highest levels of the government of one of the world‘s most powerful nation.
“President Lian of the People’s Republic of China…personally supporting the sale of this weapon to the rebels. I suppose you think Dr. Zhi’s death had been faked in preparation for this operation?”
“Yes, that’s what the evidence points to, unfortunately. It gets worse.”
“How could it possibly be any worse than this?!” Devkota burst out, absolutely in shock of what he was witnessing. A lump grew in his throat as he awaited the response.
“We traced the source of this mail to Beijing, the Ministry of State Security to be exact.”
Devkota grew dizzy, and for a moment he felt as if he were about to faint, or vomit, or both.
“May Shiva help us all! You do realize…that this surely means war?”
He heard a deep, shuddering breath on the other end of the line. “Yes, chief. I know.”
“Is there any chance that this may be a forgery? How did you get this off the perps’ computer?”
“No, chief. It all seems to fit right in. The Chinese certainly have a strong motivation for killing off Chandara, and it seems like they were sure that their involvement would remain secret, based on other e-mails we recovered. As for your second question, it was a bit strange. The rebels were clearly amateurs, as they kept all of their critical information on a single computer, their leader’s, and left the data in a clearly labeled “revolution plan” folder that was visible on the main screen. It’s almost as if they wanted us to find it.”
Devkota felt a chill rattle up and down his spine, and his forehead suddenly began to sweat, something that always happened to him when he was under high stress. Suddenly, his fear and shock switched into anger and fury. How dare the Chinese? How dare they commit such a blatant atrocity in the name of political power? And their foreign minister even had the nerve to appear on world television to express his “deep regret and sorrow for the people of Nepal,” when they had been the ones responsible!
“We must send this information to our government at once!” He growled, startling the Lieutenant on the other end, “And we need to let the Indians know as well! They’ll show those little bastards to commit mass murder! They’re itching for a fight and now I can’t blame them. I can’t wait to see our armies together, pounding the life out of those mother ****ers.”
“Sir?” Thapa said timidly, and Devkota immediately felt embarrassed by his outburst.
“Sorry, carry on.”
“We’ve already passed on the word to the intern government. I assume they’ll alert the Indians.”
“Good,” Devkota said, “Tell me when war’s been declared.” Without saying goodbye, he switched off the phone and stood up, getting ready to bring the shocking news to the rest of the detectives. He no longer felt regret for having to authorize enhanced interrogation techniques on the criminals, he only felt regret that he was too old to enlist in the Army and be able to take on the criminals who had just been uncovered as the root of all his nation’s internal problems.


Politburo Building
Beijing, People’s Republic of China
February 22, 2021


It was a typical winter evening in Beijing, the sun was setting on the horizon and shining a beautiful orange beam of light across the heart of China. The haze was a bit lower than usual today, allowing the breathtaking view to be visible to the several thousand tourists and businesspeople roaming the city. People strolled along the crowded streets, shopping, socializing, complaining about the weather, and visiting their favorite cafes. Armies of cars, trucks, and bicycles cluttered the roads, with horns honking and voices shouting at others to get moving, often in less polite terms. Helicopters ferried corporate executives across the sprawling cityscape back home from long days of meetings and negotiations, something the Chinese are well known for. As the night sky slowly crept in, the signs of Beijing’s glitzy and glamorous night life began to show. Clubs opened up, neon lights flickered on, and electronic build boards flashed ads for various products from vacuums and shaving cream to new video gaming systems. The sounds of music and laughter began to replace the constant honking of horns as the chief noises. People were going about their daily business, and this evening would scarcely be remembered by many, but it was anything but normal.
Advisor Zhang never liked these sort of meetings. During a major crisis, he always seemed to be the one who the politburo members dumped the blame on. After all, he is the one who recommends or approves most major decisions. Today, however was different. Even though he was not responsible for what had happened in Nepal, President Lian, known for his poorly controlled temper, was entirely unpredictable. Even worse, information acquired by the Ministry of State Security, hacked from local police computers, suggested that the Nepalese suspected Chinese involvement in the assassination. He knew that to be false, but Lian may not. Zhang had no idea how he had reacted to the news, presumably negatively, and his gut feeling was that the most powerful man in China, and one of the most powerful people in the world, would take his anger out on him some way or another. Zhang was well aware of what had happened in the past when someone earned the disdain of the country’s leader. Heads would roll. Quite literally. However, the violent nature of the government had, supposedly, continuously died down since the turn of the century, and Zhang hoped that the President would be rational, or at the very least, merciful. For despite his temper, Lian had shown far more restraint than many others, he had never allowed his anger to result in death for anyone. Yet. Zhang struggled to maintain his composure, to hide his fear. He leaned back in his seat and took a sip from the cup of tea in front of him. The main Politburo office was a beautifully decorated room. It’s walls were adorned with a mix of traditional artwork and pictures of historical figures from Mao Ze**** to Hu Jintao. In the center of the room was a long, narrow table with a seat at the front, and seats along the side for the President and lower members respectively. The advisor had the honor of sitting closest to the front, right across from the Minister of Defense. The room was protected by soundproof walls and the entrance was monitored by no less than five security cameras. It was also swept for bugs multiple times before and after meetings. If a spy wanted to get in by force, he or she would have to deal with a full regiment of the PLA’s best commandos. All of the critical brains of the nation were present for this important gathering. The largely symbolic Premier Chu Yin, Minister of State Security Guo Yongkang, Minister of Defense Shen Yang, and Foreign Minister Hui Qing. The group whispered among themselves, wondering why Lian was so late. Everyone else didn’t dare to arrive any more than thirty seconds late, only to wait for thirty minutes without as much as a word from the front desk of his arrival. The tension was palpable. No one wanted to have to deal with an outraged President, especially given the circumstances. They were all equally clueless as to how they should react to the potentially devastating crisis unfolding in front of their eyes. The intercom speaker on the table came to life, breaking the uneasy quietness.
“Gentlemen, Comrade Lian has arrived and is on his way.” The front secretary reported.
The Politburo members noticeably stiffened up, as if it would make a significant difference in Lian’s mood.

Scarcely five minutes later the doors to the room burst open, slamming against the wall with a theatric bang. The President’s face was pink and one could almost envision a cloud hovering over his head. The man was average height, and a little on the pudgy side, but he made up for this with his intimidating, angry stare in his eyes. The group immediately stood up as required in political norms.
“Sit down!” Lian immediately thundered, making several men’s hearts jump.
The fifty-seven year old leader marched over to his chair and dropped into it. His eyes scanned the table.
“Who authorized that mission?” He growled. Fixing his stare on Yongkang, he scowled and repeated. “Who the **** authorized that mission?!”
No one spoke, and Yongkang appeared to have frozen like a deer in headlights.
Several members exchanged glances, silently asking “Who will say it first?”
When the entire group fixed their stare on Zhang, he nodded, took a deep breath, and hoped for the best.
“Comrade President,” He began.
“What? This better be good, Sun. In case you haven‘t seen the news we‘ve got half the ****ing world rallying in support of the savages..” Lian referred to the Indians as such, “…and once the rumor’s out, we’ll be facing outrage that’ll make our Tibet crisis look like a walk in the park!”
The President’s use of harsh language and informal speaking manner showed the sheer impact of the news on him, Zhang could see that the President’s knuckles were red and sore looking, and it dawned on him why the man had been late. He had been punching something, most likely a wall, the past half hour. The President had done that before, and when he had, Zhang’s life had become quite difficult. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Here goes.
“I believe it is.”
Lian squinted his eyes. “Continue.”
“I have spoken with Comrade Yongkang, and I can say with certainty that his agency was not involved in this catastrophe, nor was any element of our government.” He glanced over at Yongkang, who nodded.
“And what might make you say that?” Lian asked impatiently.
“Comrade, the reason the Nepali police believe we’re involved is because of this,” He pulled out a printed copy of the now infamous e-mail and placed it in the center of the table. “To an observer, this message appears to indicate that you are personally overseeing the conspiracy, and that we are used Dr. Huang Zhi to develop and sell the weapon. On top of all this, the e-mail apparently originated from our state security headquarters.” Zhang continued, noticing several members raise their eyebrows. He had to admit, the evidence was rather compelling. Had Zhang been in a police uniform he would’ve probably believed it as well.
“Yes, but everyone with half a brain knows that Huang is dead.” Lian snorted. Suddenly his face softened, and his eyes seemed to drift off. Zhang knew that among the lab assistants who perished in the fire, one of them had been Lian’s son, and that Lian still made weekly visits to the his grave. The kid’s sudden death had been quite hard on him.
“Here’s my theory,” Zhang answered calmly. “They most likely believe that his death was staged, faked, fabricated if you will. It would not have been hard to do and conceal, really, and the overall plausibility of us pulling it off is quite high. Removing the head of state of one of our primary regional enemies may seem like a solid motivation to an investigator. But,” Zhang raised a finger, “Here’s what they don’t know or realize. While Chandara may have been a pain in the ***, we would never commit such an outrageous and attention drawing attack that would surely give India widespread sympathy and support, not to mention alerting the Americans, Japanese, Australians, and everyone else who hates us.” Looking around, Zhang could see that the members, and even the President, were nodding or grunting in approval. Maybe this would turn out alright for him. “Also, I am convinced that whoever forged that message somehow used our MSS server as a proxy, hiding it’s true origins. Someone is deliberately attempting to frame us.”
“And who, Comrade, do you believe that may be?” Lian asked quietly.
Zhang sighed, he knew this next part would be a tough sell. “That is what I’ve been trying to figure out for the past few days. I think I might have an idea.”
“Well do share your enlightenment with us, comrade detective. I‘m glad to know that you have this mystery all figured out for us.” The MoD sneered. Lian gave him a deathly glare, wiping the smirk off his face. Yang had always been a bit of a smart aleck, always questioning anyone who seemed to know more than him, but he never held up once the President gave him as much as a frown.
“Keep your comments to yourself.” Lian muttered harshly. Turning back to Zhang, “Go on.” It was clear that he was interested in what the advisor had to say. Anything that may allow them to escape this entanglement.
Zhang realized that this next part may be a tough sell. “Comrade President, I suspect that…it may be possible that Doctor Zhi did in fact go underground, perhaps becoming involved in the black market trade-”
Before he could finish, the President cut him off. “Ridiculous. Absolutely Ridiculous. Why, explain, would Huang leave his absurdly high-paying position just to go sell his talent to a few desert rats?”
Yongkang stepped in, “I’m not the least bit surprised. Huang had always been an egotistical moron. He probably thinks terrorists will be more desperate for his tech and hence would pay more money.” Zhang smiled, this was likely the minister’s way of repaying him for diverting Lian’s wrath off him at the beginning of the meeting.
“We pampered him like a spoilt child!” Lian went on, “What more could he have possibly wanted?”
“Greed knows no reason.” Zhang said, “Remember this is just a theory.”
Lian looked at him, grumbled, then eased up. “All right. Continue.”
“As I was saying, if he is indeed selling weapons on the black market, he probably would want to have some form of cover. He apparently is trying to dump the blame on us so he can remain hidden. Given his knowledge on our government workings, it allows him to forge a credible story. What does puzzle me, however, is that in that dreadful E-mail, he reveals his own involvement as part of some kind of black operation. We will certainly need much more information if we are to get an accurate picture and have any hope of providing counter evidence to the international community.”


As the group contemplated that last statement, the secretary called over the desk intercom again.
“Comrades, the Nepalese are holding a press conference right now. The western news stations will pick it up in no time.”
Lian’s scowl deepened. “Listen closely. Here’s what I want you all to do. Yongkang, I want you and your department to divert all your resources to investigating this fiasco. Find out the truth behind this. Yang? I want you to alert our commanders along the Indian borders. Place our military on increased readiness and high alert. When the savages get word of this they’ll be pouring over the border at us on their smelly, fat elephants or whatever it is their army uses. If they do, our troops must be ready so they can beat them back. Qing?” Lian faced the Foreign Minister, “Get over to the United Nations and explain to them that we have evidence suggesting that they’ve been duped. Zhang? You did a good job today. See if you can put anymore pieces of this puzzle together.”
“Yes Comrade.”
“Good.” Lian said with finality. “This meeting is adjourned. Keep me informed.” He emphasized the last few words as he stood up and turned around to exit.
As the group left the room, Zhang lagged behind. He feared for his country. The implications of this recent chain of events seemed to place the world on an unstoppable race towards war. What will the Indians do? Is this the next major proxy war? He wondered. This was not the best time for another tension inducing conflict, things had already been strained the past few years, and the last thing the world needed now was another clash between the two most powerful nations in Asia. Zhang shuddered at the thought, and reassured himself that there was evidence that his government could present to the world. Perhaps the other nations would understand and be merciful. Perhaps even the Indians may show restraint. Zhang thought as he left the building and stepped back into his limousine.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.

[BTR74]

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[BTR74]

FYI, President Martin is NOT supposed to be an imitation of Obama (or Bush, or any other president for that matter), he's just my creation

7. Politics not as usual

White House Situation Room
Washington D.C., United States of America
February 22, 2021

The entire Capitol Hill was a madhouse, commotion evident in every department. The news of the assassination was absolutely stunning, especially given the nature of it. If some third world rebel group had obtained such technology, who else had as well? Could DC be next? Most of all, the politicians of America wanted to know how they should respond to the unforeseen crisis unfolding in South Asia. Everyone knew that once a culprit had been revealed, India would almost certainly go to war, and they wanted to have firsthand knowledge of who it would be. While the American ambassador to New Delhi prepared to meet with the intern government of India, the President’s key advisors were gathering in the Situation Room located in the basement of the White House to determine what the best course of action was. National Security Advisor Ryan Green never felt comfortable being there. It always felt like a dungeon to a man who had grown up in the wide open plains of Nebraska in a small, rural town with a population of less than two thousand. He wouldn’t describe himself as claustrophobic, but he definitely did not enjoy being in a tight little room with a little wooden table jam packed with people ranging from civil and military advisors to the President himself. The Situation Room was where the critical elements of the government would be briefed and updated on developing incidents and crises; given the Second Cold War and the turbulence that accompanied it, it was in constant use. Green, being the responsible for advising the President and Cabinet on defense matters, found himself being one of the most important voices in the current administration.

Sadly, whether or not his voice would be heard in the said administration was an entirely different matter. The incumbent President of the United States of America, John Allen Martin, who was sitting just across the table from Green, was not exactly the listening type. The better part of his fifty-seven years were spent in politics, and as with many others who delved into this business, his sense of morality and level-headedness had long disappeared. Like most presidents before him, Martin was arrogant, Machiavellian, politically ruthless, and willing to put real lives at risk just to serve his massive ego. His foreign policy revolved around the idea that America was morally superior to other countries, often unnecessarily exacerbating already high tensions with the eastern powers. He took credit for other’s work, and never spoke anything but praise for his party. Martin also failed to prepare the United States’ military for the ever increasing threat of large scale conventional warfare, continuing to believe that terrorists and proxy rebels would be the only real threat to American and allied security. “They wouldn’t dare” seemed to be his view on the SCO threat. While it was indeed necessary to continue counter-terror weapons programs started in the past few administrations to a degree, as terrorists did still pose a significant threat, Martin had consistently refused to “waste” money on sorely needed equipment such as new anti-tank missiles and stealth strategic bombers. He first began politics as a young senatorial candidate for his home state of New Mexico, with an axe to grind with the opposing party, he won the election by using the standard mix of exaggerated promises and stretched truth, just as any other politician would have, but he had something special, something unique. He had charisma, a certain public charm even while delivering the nastiest political attack, and his calm, confident nature was enough to convince the average voter that he was the right choice. In the 2016 presidential race, Martin easily won his party’s nomination, and proceeded to viciously smear and degrade his challenger to victory. Using blatant fear mongering and misinformation, including the allowing of outright lies to be perpetuated by his supporters, he won by a landslide. His election promises generally focused on fixing the energy crisis and by halting SCO expansionism across the globe, but when he realized that this was easier said than done, he quickly turned to the tried and true political method of blaming his opposition for undermining his agenda, and by focusing public attention on the “evils” of Chinese and their allies. For him, the Final Middle East War in Lebanon and the potential public support boost it provided an opportunity for couldn’t have come any sooner. Jumping on the opportunity to deploy American troops to the international coalition to restore order in the war torn nation, he riled his supporters as if they were preparing a march on Beijing itself. While this was, in Green’s view, one of his better decisions, the fact that he basked in the glory of the operation’s victory despite the fact that the majority of allied forces were from Europe, was deplorable. However, dumping off his problems on others and mooching off the successes of others could only work for so long, and near the end of his first term, he was under heavy fire from both the media and the public for failing to jump start alternate energy production and to reach any kind of peace with the SCO members. Facing a strong and popular challenger in the 2020 elections, he set a new low for political immaturity by reducing the debates to a series of petty personal attacks and cheap shots. Despite being himself a mix of black and Hispanic ethnicity, he shamelessly appealed to racists and bigots by questioning the loyalty of the Chinese American opponent. Winning by a close margin, he found himself at a loss of what to do in order to keep down growing public skepticism over his ability to make progress. With polls showing Martin’s support sagging, Green could see the mix of excitement and relief in the President’s eyes, undoubtedly hoping that this could be another well needed boost for popularity. While none of his actions were anything new to Washington politics, in fact, there had never really been a time where it hadn’t been this way, it was saddening to Green to see that nothing really changed. One could say that this is a side effect of having a free democracy. And there was an upside to he otherwise dislikable Martin administration, while he had acted impulsively and stupidly, Martin had yet to entirely screw anything up. Relations with Europe, PATO, and other friendly countries remained strong, much of the tension with the Moscow-Beijing Axis was unavoidable, Martin had responded to military crises with restraint and allowed military commanders to handle the situation on the ground. He had indeed kept America and her allies safe, in a way, by approving various defense treaties, including the landmark Nuclear Defense Pact that led to the end of the threat of nuclear warfare, and increasing cooperation with regional allies. At least not so far. As with every emerging crisis, Green always faintly worried that this might be the one where Martin did make a major slip up, and given the proportions of the current situation, Green was even more nervous than usual about what Martin would do in response.

Seated around the table besides the President and Green were the Vice President, Jim Morris, the Secretary of Defense Frank Dunning, and the new Secretary of State Harry Jones. Each had a mug of warm coffee in front of them. These people were generally more reasonable than the President, and Green considered them to, for the most part, make solid decisions and keep Martin from going out of control, but they were nevertheless partisans, chosen by Martin due to their support of his campaigns.
“Okay,” Martin began, starting the meeting, “Jones here tells me that he’s got some important news for us regarding the incident in Kathmandu. Harry?”
Jones, despite pushing sixty, was a relative newcomer to Washington, and was not used to the high pressure environment. The man cleared his throat and spoke up. Green noticed that there was sweat on Jone’s neck. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Mr. President, at around midnight last night, the Nepali government sent us some….startling information.”
“Hmmm,” The President said, he had clearly been informed about this already.
“It appears as if the local police believes they have evidence implicating the Chinese government to the assassination of Chandara.” Jones continued. The room fell silent at once, and Green felt his heart sink, and could tell that many of the others’ in the room had as well. In just that single sentence, Jones virtually announced an eminent war…if he was correct.
Martin’s face remained impassive as he broke the silence. “How convincing is this so called evidence? Would it hold up if it was evidence at a trial?”
“I would bet on it sir. It’s pretty convincing.” The Secretary of State then went on to explain in great detail what the Nepalese had found and why they were so convinced. Green saw a thin smile grow on Martin’s face.
Oh, no, I see where this is going. The bastard smells a rating boost. Green decided to intervene. “Excuse me, Mr. Jones, but how can they be so certain so soon? The attack only happened less than a week ago. We need to get more proof than that.” It was weak, and Green knew it, but he couldn’t sit back and allow Martin to just jump to conclusions after a five minute briefing. And besides, something just didn’t seem right about that E-mail. It seemed too obvious, too unprofessional.
The President glared at him suspiciously. “Mr. Green, how do you explain the fact that the message originated form the damned Ministry of State Security in Beijing? Do you realize how powerful Chinese digital defenses are? For seven years our finest hackers have been trying to break into their systems and we’ve had no luck. None. I find it hard to believe that some third world guerrilla group with less than a hundred members could possibly not only break in to the MSS network, but somehow magically make it appear as if they sent them a message.”
“Mr. President, what if a third party was responsible for this forgery? What if the rebels hired an unknown group with more knowledge on-”
“And who would you suspect that to be? The only organization that could possibly have the ability to break through the ******* digital Great Wall of China would be a either us, the Europeans, the Russians, or the Chinese themselves. I’ve spoken with representatives from our EU allies, and they’re just as baffled as us. If none of them did it, who’s left? I doubt the Russians would set their own ally up for certain war, and that leaves just one possibility, the one which those Sherpas in Kathmandu just caught red-handed. Green, I’m gonna have to say that I believe that a Chinese conspiracy makes the most sense. They have the ability, they have the motive, and they’ve already been known to supply the Maoist insurgency.”
Green hated what was unfolding in front of him, but a voice inside his head told him that Martin was probably right. His theory, regardless of how haphazardly it was thrown together, made perfect sense. The Chinese had every reason to get rid of Chandara. The man had been a thorn in their side for years. It wouldn’t be the first time a major power made a high profile assassination. The Russians had done it multiple times in the ‘0s, one time even using radiation poisoning. But something still did not seem right.
“Martin, I think you might be right on this one, but for argument’s sake, it’s still highly suspect as to why the MSS would have the rebels use such a high profile method of killing Chandara. I mean, leveling half the downtown area of a capital city is about as attention grabbing as it gets! Plus, the rebels made it painfully obvious who their benefactors were, leaving all that data right on their leader‘s computer like that.”
Martin nodded, contemplating for a moment. He turned to Secretary of Defense Dunning and asked for his opinion.
“My guess? They just ****ed up. The Chinese put far too much faith in their rebel friends, and the rebels were just simply too sloppy and irresponsible. These are the same guys, remember, that tried to ambush a fully guarded UN convoy in broad daylight on a major roadway. For the first question, I believe that they wanted to guarantee a kill. Security around the meeting was pretty tight; it would have been tricky as hell to get anywhere within a mile of the PM with a gun or bomb. With a vac bomb, as long as they landed that thing anywhere near the Parliament building they would have a sure fire dead target. It may be high profile, but it’s very effective.”
Green could still hardly believe it, but his conscience told him that the conspiracy was most likely genuine. Now came the toughest question of all. “Well, Mr. Dunning, what do you think we should do about this?”
The SecDef smirked. “I thought you were the National Security Advisor? ”
Green simply shrugged, “Hearing second opinion never hurts.” Green realized that the President would be more likely to agree with the man who had took his side during the argument, so he could expect Dunning’s recommendation to be Martin’s first choice.
“Well India is without doubt one of our most vital allies in Asia, both economically and militarily, second only to South Korea and Japan. We cannot allow this atrocity to go unpunished. NATO will be holding an emergency session in a few days, and I would suggest that we propose sending covert aid to the Indians in the very likely case of war. We would stealthily increase shipments of high quality weaponry to their military, including direct energy and radar jamming technology. Ex-military advisors could be contracted from Private Military Companies to train their soldiers, and we could probably sneak in a few of our best pilots or commandos to teach them a thing or two on how to use their new toys. But most of all, we could give them access to our huge array of intel gathering programs and equipment. The CIA would share information gathered on enemy movements and plans, and at least one of our spy satellites would be placed at their disposal. It may not sound like a whole big deal, but the combination of these things would give our friends a big advantage. One on one, the Chinese would clobber them, but with the benefit of advanced intelligence and modern guns, the playing field is leveled quite neatly. A prolonged shooting war with an enemy that can predict and counter their every move could devastate China’s economy and industry. It could prove to be their equivalent to the Soviet War in Afghanistan that helped lead to their demise! Think of the possibilities this opens. If China’s government collapses or is crippled, the SCO would lose it’s most powerful member, and the Russians their number one oil customer. This could set off a chain reaction leading to the collapse of both the Russian and Chinese economies, which would effectively castrate the Eastern Alliance’s ability to challenge us on a worldwide, or even regional scale. At the very least it would greatly reduce their war fighting capacity.”
Green could hardly believe what he was hearing. The SecDef was dangling this debacle as a potential changer of world history like a carrot in front of a mule for the President. Even now, Martin could barely cover his intrigue of the vast potential of Dunning’s exaggerated possibilities with a mask of indifference. Turning to him, the President asked. “What’re your ideas, Ryan?”
He already lost, but Green still had to give one last attempt at preventing what could end up as a massive provocation. “Sir, I believe that we should first and foremost concentrate on making sure we have absolutely rock solid information on who is responsible for this attack before we make any moves or NATO proposals.”
“I’ll take it under serious consideration.” Martin replied dismissively. He then glanced at his cell phone, scanning over what was apparently a new message. “Well gentlemen, it appears as if Indira got word of the conspiracy. New Delhi is going ape; the government’s already accusing President Lian personally of genocide. We should expect an armed confrontation in a week or two at most. In the mean time, let’s all get some rest.”
As he stood up, the NSA felt a massive spike of apprehension. If the enemy ever found out about the virtually guaranteed US and possibly European military aid program, the war could spread like wildfire. Green tried to reassure himself. Perhaps Dunning was right. Maybe this is the right choice that could lead to the pivotal destruction of the enemy coalition and end the Second Cold War. As he strode out the room and into the hallways, he realized that this was without doubt the most important event so far in the 21st century.

Presidential Office, The Kremlin
Moscow, Russian Federation
February 23rd, 2021

“I say we just let them hang,” Minister of Defense Dmitry Rankov spat acidly, “If they were stupid enough to think that they could get away with their little scheme, they don’t deserve our help!”
President Larissa Sergetova couldn’t help but to smile at the man’s tirade. The first woman head of state of Russia since Catherine The Great had seen her fair share of unusual characters in her historic run to the presidency. Rankov was one of them. The man had a bad habit of jumping straight to conclusions based on the first available piece of information and would them go on to ramble and rant about it, often only to be pointed out that he was completely off course. Flawed and eccentric as he was, he was a natural pick for his position. The man was a near genius when it came to military matters such as logistics, costs, strategies, and feasibilities of major operations. In addition, he was an immensely popular figure in public view, no small part due to his well publicized military career and service in the Second and Third Chechen conflicts. In the latter, as an Army colonel, Rankov had led a small Spetsnaz incursion team into the heart of rebel held Grozny to set timed demolition charges on various enemy radar, anti-air, and anti-armor assets, paving the way for a large scale armored charge into the city next morning, a decisive turning point in the war.
When Sergetova was campaigning to be nominated as the ruling party‘s next presidential candidate, which is really the only process that matters in Russian elections, she knew she had to prove her strength in order to gain respect in a nation that still held the view that politics was a man’s job. She had to prove that she would be willing to stomp out a troublesome insurgency, or silence a critic would was making too much noise, or remove a journalist asking too many questions without hesitation. She tried to win over as many popular or well respected leaders, like Rankov, to her side, and was rather successful. Many of these generals and tycoons felt that having a female leader would be good for Russia’s world image. With a few strings pulled here and there, she won the nomination, and after that, the system handled the rest, ensuring that Larisa Sergetova won a smooth victory in the 2020 elections. Once in office, she filled in her cabinet with the experts and populists she befriended in her bid, and as a result her advisors were some of the most knowledgeable experts available. And now she needed them more than ever. Or so it seemed. None of the advisors currently assembled in her office quite knew the truth behind what was going on.
“Well, Mr. Rankov,” Minister of Foreign Affairs Mikhail Nikolai, Rankov’s virtual antithesis personality-wise, replied coolly, “When I was contacted by my Chinese counterpart this morning I was assured wholeheartedly that there was indeed a reasonable explanation for this mess. One that they will be presenting to the United Nations. They seem fairly confident that this is just a colossal mistake. I doubt they would risk international humiliation if they weren’t fairly sure of themselves.”
“How do you know their not just covering their own asses?” Rankov growled. “I wouldn’t put it past those yellow ******bags.”
The man’s bigotry and borderline racism irked Sergetova; she never liked it when government officials badmouthed their country’s closest ally. An ally that her country could thank for helping them get back on their feet on the world stage.
“Dmitry, enough. Let Nikolai finish. Go on.”
The MoD nodded and lowered his head in submission, “Da, madam President. Apologies.”
Nikolai continued. “The Chinese Politburo has requested to speak with us to explain their point of view on the situation over video conference. They will be ready in…” Nikolai glanced at his watch, “Thirty minutes. They didn’t tell our embassy staff in Beijing exactly what it is, but they did say that they are being set up by a third party. Whoever it may be, they must have a vendetta against both sides. One has a highly popular Prime Minister turned to dust, the other is being hung out to dry in the world community. If you’ve been watching the news, the intern Prime Minister, President Indira Shekar, is making fiery speeches against the Chinese, calling them ‘cruel, wicked, manipulative’ and all that other lovely business. It’s safe to say that war is coming in a matter of days. India is rallying it’s people like Americans after 9/11, and the PLA is beefing up border defenses along the Himalayas. The question is, how do we deal with it? If the Politburo is sincere in it’s claim that they had nothing to do with the killing, then we of course have to assist our friends in some way, but if they did do it, what then?”
“Then we let them get what-” Rankov shut up at the snarl Sergetova gave him.
“Go on, Mikhail.” I swear, the President thought, I’ll have to keep that man on a leash to keep in in order!
The Foreign Minister cleared his throat and went on. “Based on individual soldier training, skill, and equipment, it’s pretty obvious that China can easily brush off a conventional attack by Indian forces. In fact, I believe this could be a big miscalculation on the enemy’s part and may end up more of a punishment for themselves rather than the Chinese. If you remember your history classes, the last time the two nations engaged in a significant full-scale war, back sixty years ago, the People’s forces swept aside most resistance. Now, the Indians may be better armed and slightly better trained than they were previously, thanks largely to us unfortunately, the fact still stands that the PLA has more manpower, better armor, better electronics, better tanks, better training, better handheld weapons, better fifth generation fighter fleets, and better leadership. Much of what the enemy uses is simply upgraded versions of 20th century technology, or downgraded foreign exports. Take their HAL Vishnu stealth fighter. It is simply a new name for the product of our FG/FA program, and offshoot of the PAK-FA project. Unlike our final products, the Vishnu has decreased radar capabilities and less stealth. Not to mention it is not equipped with our latest missiles thanks to their little betrayal to big daddy America. Anyways, the point is, I say that Chinese victory is almost guaranteed…should no one else intervene.”
“Explain.” Sergetova said.
“Well, India is a founding member of the American’s Pacific Treaty Organization, or PATO, as you know. One of PATO’s core ideas is ‘an attack against one is an attack against all’ and all that unity and democracy bull****. While the other members may initially be reluctant to jump right on into a full scale conflict with our Chinese friends, should their ally get into a particularly bad position, such as being on the verge of total collapse, a few nations may answer the call and mobilize. Australia, is one nation I find particularly worrisome. They have been modernizing and improving their Defense Forces in preparation for a standoff with the PLA for years now, and they could severely damage the Chinese war effort. We may find ourselves, as the Americans say, ‘in between a rock and a hard place.’ This all depends on weather or not the Chinese actually committed the assassination of Chandara.”
“We’ll have to wait and see.” Sergetova said finally.

There was a brief moment of unnatural silence in the office, as if they were told not to speak unless spoken too. The President took a sip of tea out of her cup and observed the group around her. They were all very haggard and tired looking, with bloodshot eyes, unkempt suits and slightly unshaven faces. Just like virtually every other major nation’s leaders the Russian government had been working around the clock to clear the smoke shrouding what is now being called “The 2/18 Bombing.” Sergetova nearly chuckled behind her stone set face. Then, the door opened and a secretary poked her head in. “Ms. President, we have Lian on the line.”
“Put him through.” In a flash, the video communications screen at the front of the room lit up, revealing the leader of China, waiting patiently.
“Hello Peng,” Sergetova began. The two knew each other well enough to call by first names.
“Hello Larissa. I apologize for having to set this up so quickly, but as you can obviously tell, the matter is rather urgent.”
“We hear that you say your country did not kill Prime Minister Chandara as accused by the international community. We would like to believe you. Please convince us.” Nikolai said, wanting to cut through the diplomatic formalities and straight to the point. On another day, he may have been scolded for it, but the Chinese leader simply nodded understandingly.
“Yes. We do. First off, I will further emphasize what we have told the UN: We did not have any link whatsoever to this killing. That said, I’ll give you the reasons why. There were no MSS agents in contact with the particular guerilla group that perpetrated the bombing; we only maintained relations with the legitimate and mainstream coalition of Maoist groups. We would never support a small and potentially incompetent group without ample proof that their backing may be fruitful to the cause of world freedom. The high profile murder of a world leader that would immediately be blamed on us is hardly fruitful. You see, the Nepalese police’s most convincing evidence against us was their link from a message from the terrorists’ computer to our Ministry of Defense. Well, after a routine security sweep, we discovered a virus with the capability of implanting false information on our servers and sending them. Before the program self-deleted, we managed to track it’s source down to Somalia. As you know, that place is the wild west for terrorists and criminals, despite the international interventions over the past few years. One of your cyber-warfare advisors was present to witness this, so you may question him as you wish. Within hours, our paramilitary MSS teams in Mogadishu responded to the precise coordinates we determined, only to find an abandoned warehouse. They found hair and skin samples where what appears to have been a makeshift computer workshop had been, which are currently undergoing DNA testing as we speak. Furthermore, Dr. Zhi, who is referenced as the designer of the bomb, has been deceased for quite some time now. We have even have said Doctor‘s body being recovered from his grave to prove it.”
“You wouldn’t have any possible alternate suspects, would you? ” Rankov asked, rubbing his bearded chin.
Lian, completely unmoved by Rankov’s scathingly sarcastic tone, responded with a slight nod. “We have a few names on our radar.”
“Care to share them?”
“Once ample evidence has been collected.”
Rankov grunted in discontent but said nothing further.
“And you’ve presented this to the UN?” Sergetova asked.
“Not yet. Our representative is being briefed as we speak, however. Needless to say, we probably should not expect it to convince many, but we need your support. We need at least some of our allies to understand that we’re being falsely targeted here.” Towards the end of his statement Sergetova noticed a change in Lian’s who demeanor. His eyes changed from stone indifference to a sort of pleading helplessness. His voice grew slightly higher pitched, like he was at his last stand, begging for help. She felt sorry for the poor man. He really was an unknowing victim in all this, and she knew it. He was piece of a puzzle in which he was completely ignorant of his partaking.
“What exactly do you want us to do?” Asked Nikolai.
“Nothing right now,” Lian replied, “But should war break out, or I should really say when war breaks out, I need to know that you will at least offer political support through international organizations, and that you’ll continue to be our leading trade partner.”
There was a moment of silence, as Sergetova thought the man’s request over, as well as the circumstances. After a few awkward seconds, Larissa spoke up on behalf of the entire Russian government, as her de facto right. “Well Mr. Lian, your arguments and evidence for your country’s lack of involvement in the 2/18 Bombings is quite convincing, at least for me, and I do not forget the gratitude my nation owes yours for your assistance in restoring our global potency and influence, as well as your unflinching support during these harsh times. I can promise with utmost certainty that we will lobby in your favor in the United Nations and other organizations. We will not only continue trade relations with China, but increase our financial support. I will personally order increases in arms sales to your fighting men and women, and above all, we will honor our defense agreements with you; should any western imperialistic powers step so much as an inch into your soil, we will respond with force,” Sergetova could almost envision her cabinet members jaws dropping to the floor as she made her bold reassurances to her embattled ally and friend. She could also see a smile grow across Lian’s face at hearing exactly what he wanted, and more. She knew what she was doing could very well risk escalating the almost guaranteed upcoming war, yet that was all how it was intended.
The Chinese President closed his eyes. “Thank you Ms. President. I cannot express in words my gratitude. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have arrangements to speak with the other heads of states from the Shanghai Cooperation Organization. I must go now.”
At that, the screen went dark, and the room was once again uncomfortably quiet for several moments. Sergetova calmly sipped at her tea as the cabinet members stared at her in disbelief.
“I really hope you’re right about Lian’s innocence Larissa,” Rankov said quietly, “Because if war does break out, and the west does intervene, we could be caught in the ****storm of the century.”

[BTR74]

8. All Quiet on the Southern Front

Nachiketa Rao Army Base, Siliguri
West Bengal, India
March 14th, 2021

“Forward, march!” Risaldar-Major Inder Kapur of the 17th Mountain Division of the XXXIII Corps of the Indian Army and his proud, polished battalion surged forward in unison. The young soldiers in the unit stood tall, walked briskly, and held their rifles with pride, all ready to make a difference in what was sure to come. The national pride of their nation had been wounded by the ruthless aggressors to the north, but like a phoenix emerging reborn from it’s own ashes, the sense of patriotism rebounded with a vengeance. Flags were raised all across the country, from the dirty slums of Bangalore to the rich districts of Mumbai, and the intern-head of state, Prime Minister Indira Shekar, a sixty year old traditionalist who still wore the ancient Sari in an age where modernism dominated Indian culture, riled up crowds in the millions with fiery speeches lambasting the Chinese for their “cowardly stab in the back.” Mass anti-Chinese rallies sprouted in every major population area, and the ambassador in New Delhi had been arrested and imprisoned on charges of espionage. Negotiations had fallen apart before they even began, and the world community was quickly picking sides for the upcoming showdown. The United States, European Union, and Japan had introduced a move to censure China in the UN, which was unsurprisingly vetoed by Russia and the other SCO members. They countered the basis of their involvement by trying to invent some hogwash story about a conspiracy or set up, but no one with any hint of intellect believed them; their evidence weak and their reasoning woefully flawed. The Americans had already authorized extensive military aid to India, and the European nations were to convene soon to decide on that issue as well. Kapur even toyed with the idea that some friendly nations may intervene with force, but didn’t count on it. As a soldier, he hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst, which now was the idea that the Indian Army would have to take on the communists almost alone. Kapur didn’t that to be quite so bad, what his nation’s forces lacked in equipment they made up in spirit. Over his head, a chalk of armed helicopters roared past, their rotors filling the air with a stream of loud thumps. The Major’s eyes gleamed with the look of an eager fighter ready to prove himself in battle, as did the rest of his troops’. This would not be the first time he had been deployed in a war zone. Just seven months before he had been posted in the volatile Kashmir region. But he did not count that as real combat, as he had never been engaged in actual fighting, only patrols and the occasional pot shots with the remainder of the dwindling insurgents. Kapur could sense that the big moment, the final authorization from New Delhi to commence combat operations, was on the horizon. The entire military was on high alert. While the XXXIII Corps was being marshaled along the border to launch an attack into the Tibet Autonomous Region, two more divisions to the west were moving up to link with the Nepalese armed forces to begin a push into Maoist held territories, and the rest of the Army spread out along various strategic locations along the numerous border regions, as wells as the Pakistani border, should the close ally of China decide to attack. Nuclear forces were on standby, with dozens of tactical warheads prepared for launch should things turn out badly, not that they would, though. The air force had enforced a strict “no fly zone” in the Himalayas, ensuring that any aircraft flying in the region was either one of their own…or an enemy. All of this was from preplanned contingency plans written during the height of the Second Cold War, which was about to turn Hot.

By far, the XXXIII Corps would be the tip of the spear in the upcoming operations. Based in Siliguri, the rapidly expanding economic hub of West Bengal, the unit had a distinguished history tracing back to the days of World War Two, where it fought with valor against the Imperial Japanese. Now it would fight a new expansionist Asian power, one right at it’s doorstep. The newly constructed Nachiketa Rao Army Base, the Corps headquarters named after a war hero from the Kargil Conflict, was a massive complex which included the latest communications and CC hardware in service. Also in the area was a an airport that served as the air force base for No. 20 Wing of the Air Force, which would provide close air support for ground forces. Currently, all the ground forces in the area were gathering at the base’s center field for inspection by the commander of the Northeastern Theater himself, Major General Charan Nanda, as well as a final preparation for mobilization. Troops, trucks, supplies, and armored vehicles were being gathered up as aircraft buzzed around above. Tanks stood in neat rows, national and military flags hoisted above their commanders’ hatches, gently waving in the breeze. Thousands upon thousands of troops stood in neat formations in front of them, standing rigidly at attention as others emerged from their barracks to join them. Patriotic songs played on the bases loudspeakers, as well as motivational speeches and news updates. The Indian Parliament had gathered three hours ago to decide upon the best course of action to take against China, and Kapur had no doubt in his mind as to what decision they would reach. Even the gray and dreary weather couldn’t dampen the soldiers’ collective mood. As Kapur’s unit took it’s place in the mass crowd of a formation, his second-in-command, a young, gung-ho, but intelligent Captain named Deepak Alam, smirked.
“Hey Major, how long do you think it will take before we send the enemy border guards running off with their tails between their legs? You know, when the attack begins.”
The statement was rather unprofessional, in fact, it was immature, but Kapur decided to go along for morale’s sake.
“Oh, knowing the Chinese, they’ll probably put their underwear on a stick and give up at first sight of us. They say that the PLA has been focusing most of their defenses along the Western border, neglecting the East. We should definitely have the numerical advantage here.”
“I can’t wait to wipe the grins of those sadistic *******s. They’ve been trying to jerk us around way too long.” For Alam, the fight was all too personal. His adopted father, a colonel in the Air Force, died in the 2017 clashes. The man had saved the young Alam from a life of misery and hopelessness as a street child in the filthy slums of Calcutta. He had taken in the young boy and taught him discipline, determination, and self esteem, all of which were factors that led him to enlist. Kapur, too, had lost friends in the that conflict.
“They really overstepped this time,” Kapur agreed, “and they’ll pay the price.”
On the platform overlooking the assembly area, a wiry looking officer went up to the podium.
“Group, attention!” He barked, heavily emphasizing the last syllable, as if saying “shun.”
The entire crowd straightened out and silenced. The officer moved to the sides, and a man wearing a general’s hat, epaulets, and a dozen medals took his place. General Nanda, the head of the Corps.
Raising his hand, he spoke at once.
“Fellow soldiers, patriots. It is with a mix of joy and regret that I announce that the Parliament has unanimously voted to officially declare war on the People’s Republic of China, thus beginning the latest great war in our nation’s long history. I regret that things have come to this, that war is the only answer, but I rejoice at the fact that our leaders have shown that they will not accept the unprovoked murder and destruction brought upon us by the Chinese aggressors!!”
The crowd broke into a roaring cheer, and fists were thrust into the air.
“Brave soldiers, I have received my orders from the high military command, and we are under instructions to commence combat operations against the People’s Liberation Army at 0300 Hours tonight. I realize that this is a rather short time to prepare, but it is just one more factor we can use in our advantage. We will be virtually guaranteed the element of surprise, and the enemy will by caught completely off guard!” More cheers.
“As the Americans say, we’ll catch them with their pants down. I will continue to feed your XOs on the fly objectives and intel, but so far, your short term objectives will be to secure a fifty kilometer zone into enemy territory so our logistics units can establish a secure supply line.”
The speech carried on for another half hour in which the General stressed the Indian tradition of courage and honor, and the advantages they had over the Chinese. Kapur beamed with pride. It would finally happen. The aggressors would get a taste of their own medicine, and the deaths of all those innocents in Kathmandu would be avenged…


Eight hours later
Near Chinese Airspace

In the starlit night skies above the mile high peaks of the Himalayan mountains, the opening acts of the next great war were unfolding. The flames of dozens of powerful turbine thrusters flickered in the darkness as over a dozen aircraft raced towards Chinese airspace, each one stuffed to the gills with deadly missiles of varying types. The squadrons of fighters, organized into several triangular formations, hugged the mountaintops, using their terrain guidance systems to keep them from crashing. The force consisted of thirty-eight jets in all, twelve Sukhoi Su30MKIs, eleven locally produced Hal Tejas LCAs, four stealth “Vishnu” interceptors, the Indian produced variant of the Su50, six Dassault Rafale multirole fighters, and five Mirage 2000s. The Vishnus were stealth, and the Rafales had reduced radar signature, giving the Indians a tactical and strategic advantage, as the enemy would believe the strike force to be smaller than it actually was, thus sending a smaller response force. Their objective was to strike several PLAAF airbases in the region with cluster munitions, denying the enemy a valuable asset for tactical fight operations. Regional tensions were snowballing completely out of control now. Negotiations fell apart before they even began, and both sides were beating the drums of war, with the Chinese backed by their SCO partners, and India cheered on by the western powers. Open hostilities were imminent, no matter what anyone said. President Lian had made a final, desperate, appeal for peace, but it was all in vain. Both sides rushed to beef up their border defenses and mobilize their reservists, and it became clear to everyone that the coming clash would not be restricted to a few regions, but it would be a total war, a fight to the end. Hawks, armchair generals, military leaders, and politicians all assured the public how superior their respective nations’ armies were, and that the conflict would be won and over with in mere months. At an emergency NATO summit, it was overwhelmingly agreed upon that India must not lose, at any cost. An aid package containing equipment, supplies, intelligence sharing, and trainers was hastily approved. Indian commanders were pleasantly surprised when notified that they would have American spy satellite information at their disposal, and quickly drew up clever plans to hit the enemy with the best tactical advantage. At 2300 hours, Indira Sekhar gave the final order to engage, along with several Indian allied nations in the region. The overall strategy was to draw the bulk of the PLA forces into a number of predetermined mountain passes in several areas in the Himalayas, where they would be quickly encircled and bombarded into submission by hidden forces stealthily inserted in the past week. To accomplish this, three massive waves in Kashmir, Sikkim, and West Bengal would smash border defenses and inflict heavy losses on PLA border units, they would advance several dozen miles into Chinese territory, then halt, under the guise of supply mishaps. When the enemy launched their inevitable counterattack, they would hopefully move through the intended areas, believing them to be weaker defended, and thus walking into the trap. Afterwards, the Indian forces would advance into Tibet, inciting rebellion against the Chinese government from the local population. The plan was shaky, and many commanders questioned the probability of the hoped enemy reaction, such as the plausibility of the PLA intentionally going through rough mountain terrain merely to avoid heavier opposition, but high command had its mind made up, and the plan was approved.
And now the first shots were about to be fired.

The Indian formation rocketed towards Chinese airspace, and were instantly picked up by air defense radars, who immediately alerted all nearby combat air patrols. Twenty seven state-of-the-art Chengdu J-10B Vigorous Dragon fighters, fully upgraded, vectored in on the approaching Indians, missiles fitted and under orders to fire at will. As they rocketed towards their targets, the lead Vishnus picked them up and reported their presence to the rest of the group. The maneuverable aircraft in the group broke formation to engage the Chinese, while the bomb-laden Mirages and Tejas LCAs carried on to their target airfields. Unbeknownst to the Indians, a flight of six newly-built Chinese stealth aircraft, just a mere one-hundred-thirty kilometers away, were also closing in, the strike aircraft in their sights.
The distance between the charging fighters closed fast, as both sides were jamming on their afterburners, in other words, injecting large amounts of fuel into their engines to greatly increase speed. The first aircraft to get a lock was an Indian Flanker.
“Hostile on my scope, bearing three-two-zero, cleared to engage. Jammers active, search radar active. Action, action.” The pilot reported. Seconds later, he released a pair of AIM-120D AMRAAM long range missiles, which screamed towards their unfortunate targets at a stunning speed of mach four.
The cockpits of the Chinese fighters screamed with warning tones, and the J-10s released flares and began jinking to shake off the incoming missile, which were doubling by the second as other Indians locked on an fired.
The first major air battle of the 21st Century was a far cry from the first time pilots exchanged shots on rickety wooden framed biplanes over a century ago. The high-tech aerial killing machines lobbed radar guided missiles at targets a hundred miles away while performing high-g twists and turns to avoid counter fire; killers never lock eyes, never see the faces of the other young men and women who’s lives they snuff away with cold precision. Flashes of flames and smoke sickly contrasted with the picturesque moonlit cloudscape below them. Planes that were hit burst apart and plummeted to the ground, their pilots condemned to die no matter what they did. The lucky ones were either torn to pieces instantaneously by chunks of razor sharp debris, mercifully knocked unconscious by the impact force, or disintegrated in a ball of molten metal. Some were not lucky enough to go out painlessly. Many survived the impact of a missile hit only to writhe in agony from their wounds for several seconds before their jet ploughed into the Earth, forced to watch it all as their ejection seats failed. Their desperate screams for help crushing their wingmen’s morale. Those who did manage to eject or survive the crash fared little better; a rescue attempt in these remote, hostile mountaintops was next to impossible, and the grounded airmen would most likely starve to death or stumble upon an enemy patrol and be shot. Modern air combat was nowhere close to romanticized portrayal from action movies and video games, where enemies always ejected and ace pilots won glory in high speed duels. It was in reality a brutal exchange of advance weaponry which usually only lasted minutes. This one lasted five.
The fighters nearly wiped each other out, while the Chinese stealth aircraft made their move, shooting down the strike aircraft immediately. The Indians watched in shock as their mission fell apart at the seams. Battered, depleted, and nearly Winchester, or out of munitions, the flight leader ordered an immediate retreat, and the others concurred. The handful or remaining IAF jets, all Rafales, turned south and hit their afterburners once more, fleeing at top speed back to friendly skies. The Chinese, also badly mauled in the attack, decided to hold back and return to their bases, their defense successful at a high cost. But this battle signified much more than a defeat for the IAF, it was the beginning of the war. What would become the deadliest war of the 21st Century.


9. Shiva’s Wrath

Tibet Autonomous Region, People’s Republic of China
March 15, 2021

Thin flakes of snow gently wafted across the rocky landscape, offering a beautiful sense of calm before chaos. As hell opened up in the skies above the subcontinent, the first ground unit of Operation Pradesh, the newly dubbed name for the invasion, rolled proudly and vigorously towards the first line of defenses in China proper. The tip of the spear was no other than the top-notch 17th Mountain Division of the XXXIII Corps.
Major Kapur smiled beneath his Nomex mask. He was proud. This was the big day. His country’s chance at making history. His chance at making history. The day when the first unit of soldiers would boldly thrust into the Red Dragon’s lair in full force. No more skirmishes. No more negotiations. The aggressors would pay for their barbaric assault on his country‘s pride. Major Inder Kapur had spent the best side of his thirty-eight years dreaming of becoming someone who made a difference. He had joined the armed forces with hopes of this, while believing deep down that he never would. He had fought in the border clashes during the turmoil of 2017, and seen his best friend die to the bullets of Chinese soldiers. Four years later, and he was now with his proud battalion of soldiers ready for the ultimate act of vengeance. Now it would be their turn to feel the pain. Their turn to know what it was like to have to die for their nation’s land.
Kapur motioned for the driver of his command vehicle to stop. He climbed up to the hatch above him and raised his pair of thermal binoculars to scan the surroundings. His battalion had gone ahead of the main force, their target was a well defended PLA outpost that served as a trip wire, a first warning for the main fortifications several miles north. They had to take it out swiftly before it could prematurely alert the enemy of their approach. Simply taking it out by shelling it with artillery was not possible, as it was located at the foot a mountain, most definitely having underground bunkers that ran deep into the mountainside. He couldn’t see it from here, but he could see and admire his forces massed behind him. Tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, fast attack vehicles, mortar carriers, and utility trucks, all at his disposal. Further back were helicopters that he could call on for support. He took in the view for a few moments then retreated back into the warmth of the command vehicle. It was a long journey, and once they finally crossed into China, all they had seen were evacuated villages and abandoned checkpoints. Just seeing snow in itself was awe inspiring. When the Corps started to roll out that afternoon, they were firmly in a subtropical zone. As they crossed through the Sikkim province, the climate gradually gave way to near tundra conditions, which seemed nearly unbearable to someone who grew up where eighty degrees was considered chilly.


“What do you think, sir?” Captain Alam asked.
“A great day for a fight. The snow squalls should help us conceal ourselves around the base, and those rocks are perfect cover for infantry.” The Major reached into a folder on the desk in front of him and pulled out several high-resolution satellite images of the target zone, courtesy of the CIA.
“This out plan, sir?” Captain Alam leaned forward to look.
Kapur smiled. “Yes it is,” He held the images out for the Captain to see. He pointed to the hastily scribbled arrows and circles on the papers.
“I’ve spent the last five hours staring at these damned things, and I think I have a good idea how to do this. Take a look here.” Kapur tapped his finger on a line of what appeared to be circles drawn over plain land.
“Landmines?”
“Nope. Look closer, it’s a little hard to see.”
Alam peered closer, then chuckled. “I see them now. Pillboxes.” Barely visible on the map were the faint circular outlines of multiple concrete structures masterfully painted in winter camouflage. “They’ve got good cammo, and there’s a lot there. Looks like ten or twelve.”
“That right there,” Kapur said, “is their main line of defenses. I’m assuming that they have the full range of machine guns, grenade launchers, and ATGWs stowed away in those things. It would be suicide to charge at those ****ers head on. But, if you look around here,” He pointed at a trail leading up the side of a hill adjacent to the pillboxes. It lead around to the rear of the base, where there was a second, but smaller line of well disguised machine gun nests.
“Another entrance. Less entrenched.” Alam finished.
“Exactly. This is supposed to be their escape route. When they come under attack, they’re supposed to send a few fast vehicles out to bring word to friendly forces should their radios get jammed or fail. It is also their withdrawal route. It is protected by those nasty machine guns you see right there. As unfavorable as this option looks, it’s infinitely better than trying to get past those pillboxes. Here’s what I’m gonna do. We’ll dismount most of our infantry here, move as quietly as possible up the escape route, taking position down at these rock formations here, about a hundred or two meters away from the MGs. It’ll be too close for them to call any air strikes on us. Meanwhile, I’ll move our heavy armor out to the pillboxes, engaging them at maximum range. This’ll make a nice little diversion for us. As the enemy troops go over to engage our vehicles, I’ll bring in the fighters and artillery to soften up their rear defenses for us. However, once the shells stop falling, we’ll have to fall in ASAP before they can get a radio transmission out.” He glanced up at his communications officer. “You getting all this, Sergeant?”
“Yes sir. All of it.”
“Good. Get the word out to the rest of the unit on my mark.” He turned back to Captain Alam. “Suggestions?”
“Well, Inder. What’s the strength of their forces there? How much infantry? Any heavy gear?”
Kapur glanced through his intel notes, also provided by the CIA, to refresh his memory.
“Five hundred and sixty-two armed infantry in addition to around fifty non-combat personnel. A dozen EQ2050 light vehicles, all armed with a heavy machinegun each, and three field howitzers. We don’t know what individual or crew-served weapons they have in those buildings though.”
Alam smiled “We have almost the exact same amount in manpower.” Then he looked at the notes. “You said you’d call in fighter support before the infantry assault? I’d advise against that, we don’t know if they have any SAMs or MANPADS or how well they know how to use them, plus they could be detected before our attack, giving us away too early. We should hold back on the air support to ensure that we don‘t end up being hit ourselves.”
Kapur contemplated this for a second, then nodded. “Good point. We’ll call the aircraft in for the mop up of the surrounding hills. Anything else?”
“No sir, we seem ready to kick some ***.”
Major Kapur’s grin deepened. “Then let’s do this.”
He looked again at the commo officer. “Get the word out to the others. We go as planned, except we keep the fighters out until we start the main assault. Assemble the infantry.”
“Yes sir. At once.” The soldier picked up his radio receiver and began relaying what Kapur said to the Lieutenants in the Company. Mere seconds after he finished talking, the grinding sounds of vehicle engines started up, and the armored units pushed on ahead. Meanwhile, the foot soldiers unloaded from their transports and gathered eagerly around the command vehicle as Captain Alam and Major Kapur got out. The Major stood atop the hull of his vehicle, eying the assembled group of men and women.
“Soldiers. Heroes of our proud nation. For the past four centuries, our civilization has been abused and cheated by foreign aggressors, both nearby and from abroad. First the Moguls, who imposed their religion and culture upon us. Then came the dark times of British rule, where we were treated like second class citizens in our own country, where our society was ridiculed and demeaned. Our resources robbed, our economy ruined, and a brutal suppression of basic human rights. They controlled us for a century and a half, humiliating and exploiting us. When Gandhi and his noble followers finally shed us of our hated masters, a new era was dawning on us. We at last had our own nation back, and could take our rightful place on the world stage. But the attempts to subjugate us didn’t stop there. Imperialistic aggression from China and Pakistan kept us tied down, held back from prosperity like a leashed dog. At the beginning of the 21st Century, we were rising on our feet. The economy was booming, our power expanding, and we were on track to become a true superpower. We held our own in the Second Cold War, attracting investors and business development even as the rest of Asia seemed to be teetering on the edge of war. We built up a fine military machine capable of taking on any SCO aggressor, equipped with the finest home built, American, and European weaponry. With our new partners in the west, as well as a talented and inspiring new leader, we seemed set to be flying high. But then, on February 18, our collective spirit was ruthlessly assaulted. Our Prime Minister and countless other innocents murdered in cold blood by no other than the People’s Republic of China, the latest to try to undermine the Indian spirit! Now, with our western allies at our side, we will strike back at the so-called ‘Eastern Dragon,’ and show their thuggish allies that we will not lay down and be subdued any longer! We will not be weak! We will fight for our home and our pride, starting here and now. If the Chinese call on their friends to bail them out, we’ll blow them away as well. Remember who we are, 17th Mountain Division, one of the most decorated units to fight the Japanese in the Second World War! How many of your ancestors fought in those dark years? How many of you know of someone who lost their father or grandfather in that war? Their spirits watch us here today, and we must not fail them. On this day, any perceived ethnic or religious differences between us fade away. Today we are no longer simply Hindus or Muslims, Punjabis or Tamils, we are all Indians!” The Major hopped off the top of the command vehicle and waved on the infantry to follow him. “Fall out!”
Alam trotted up next to him. “Sir, you’re going with the combat troops?” He asked, puzzled.
Kapur scoffed. “Why the hell not?”
“I just don’t think we should have officers right in harm’s way like that.” Alam said meekly. The Major simply laughed, “Captain, I appreciate the concern, but I can‘t sit out on this one. There‘s just no way.”
Not relenting, Alam went on. “We can’t afford to lose a key officer. You have to reconsider.”
“Captain, I think you see me as too old. Deepak, I’ve been through every conflict since the Kargil War, I have fought on the frontlines since you were in High School. I know how to stay alive. If anything, I should be having you sit out on this one.”
Alam sighed and shook his head. “ I still think it’s not a good idea…”


The company hustled off into the cragged rock formations alongside the hill, clumsily stumbling around in the uneven terrain and the pitch black darkness. On top of it all, they were directly facing the wind.
“How the hell do people live in this?” He heard one of the soldiers complain, “This is unbearable!”
“They’re probably extra hairy around here to keep warm. Like a bunch of big apes.”
“Shut up and keep moving.” Kapur snapped; he couldn’t stand the biting coldness or the icy winds that stung his face as well as any of the others, but he couldn‘t tolerate whiners. “And stay quiet.” He added. “The last thing we need is to alert any patrols they might have trolling around here.”
The group hiked along the hidden path leading to the rear of the base, their boots making a soft crunching in the powdery layer of snow on the ground. Kapur, at the front of the line, scanned the area in front of them through his night vision goggles. He could see that the path was getting narrower as they got higher, barely wide enough for a small jeep-type vehicle. To his right, the slope of the hill was nearly at a ninety degree angle, and the distance to the ground nearly well over fifty meters, and it was covered with jagged rock formations. He groaned.
I have to give credit to the poor soul who would have to drive through this death trap.
“Everyone watch your step!” He called out, but he could already see that the others were hugging the left side, most looking at the ground. “But don’t let your guard down, there could be a sniper or scout anywhere around here, especially in those rocks.”
The group neared the crest of the hill, which seemed more like a small mountain now, after over forty minutes of tiring climbing. They paused as the Major and several others observed the open ground below. Kapur raised up his goggles and raised his thermal binoculars. He slowly panned across the target, taking in every last detail. He could see the main cluster of buildings, probably barracks, over on the far west side of the clearing, as well as a radar tower and a power station. To the north there was a motor pool, where he could see a row of WZ551 infantry fighting vehicles lined up, their autocannons raised menacingly. Even worse, two helicopters sat out on a small paved area, one a utility Z-15, the other an older but still deadly Z-9 gunship, its rocket pods and guided missile racks fully loaded. There were soldiers, either mechanics or crewmen around them.
“Damn it,” Kapur said under his breath, “Intel was wrong about their equipment.” That was one thing the CIA had not been able to do, and Kapur had had to rely on a rough guesstimate from high command. Looking over at his troops, he frowned. “They must have brought those in in the last couple of days. Antitank troops, when we begin our attack make those IFVs and choppers your priority targets, assuming they don’t go after our armored forces.”
He turned back around and resumed scanning the base. There were fifteen or so light vehicles, almost all armed. His armored forces would have a lot to handle in addition to the fixed defenses. No matter, they would still vastly outnumber the enemy here. Kapur had full confidence in his troops. At the northern side, there was a communications center, and a bunker which presumably led to the underground portion of the outpost. The towed artillery guns were also placed there, and were set up in firing position. Out of sight to the south, Kapur knew were the primary lines of defense guarding the main entry. Facing his group was the rear defenses. All around the base were soldiers clearly on the alert.
Now came the hard part. He had to set up his forces, undetected, in a way that they would have the best possible advantage over the enemy when they started shooting.
“Sniper teams, grab some cover wherever you think best and cover us on the way down.” He said. “The rest of you follow me downhill, but be very careful and stay low.”
Kapur started back down the winding and narrow path, keeping a close eye on the areas below for movement. The downward trek was far more dangerous than the uphill, as a layer of slick black ice had developed on the ground, and sliding off the edge was a real threat. Many soldiers slowed down, taking shorter steps. While on the move, Major Kapur heard the Colonel of his Brigade report over the radio that the other forces in the 17th Mountain Division, and the XXXIII Corps in general, were beginning to engage their targets, which were mainly other Chinese outposts. Kapur could feel sweat building up despite the cold. The pressure was on.

The several hundred large force of soldiers neared the bottom of the hill, where they would take cover in a small patch of brush and trees. Kapur’s heart rate was rising by the minute. It stemmed from a mix of excitement and fear. It was a strange feeling, knowing that death and destruction was just around the corner. Knowing that in just a few short moments, bullets would be flying and bombs would be going off, and he would be directly responsible for lives of the men and women under him. Whether they lived or died depended in large part on his decisions. He was no stranger to this. In operations before he had shouldered similar responsibilities and prevailed. But this time it was different, mainly because he knew that this fight would not be anything like what he had experienced before. Full scale conventional conflict, a fight to end the rivalry between India and China once and for all.
He ran over to a small ditch, hopped in, and knelt with Captain Alam following close behind. He ordered the machine gun teams to set up slightly higher up the side of the hill to get a better firing solution. Then he called the officer in charge of his vehicles.
“Armadillo Five-Seven, this is Saber-Six. Are you in position and ready to fire, over?”
After a pause a high-pitched, excited voice responded. “This is Five-Seven, affirmative. Ready to engage on your command, over.”
Everything seemed to slow down, and Kapur looked at the men around him. His heart was no longer racing, but now fell into a slow pattern. He could see the eyes of his troops all watching him, waiting for that one last order to begin the war for them. It was almost surreal how quiet it was.
“Ten-four.” He said into his radio. “Fire at will. Don’t stop until they’re reduced to dust. Saber-Six out.”
As he lowed his radio, he looked back out the Chinese base, appearing awash in green from his night vision. The silence was shattered as distant thumps of 125mm smooth bore tank cannons ripped, followed shortly after by more rapid autocannon and heavy machine gun fire. The ground trembled as the shock waves reached them. Immediately after the initial shots were fired, Kapur heard crashes and explosions as shells went off.
“Should we engage, sir?” Someone asked.
“Negative. Wait until the enemy begins to divert their forces.” He raised his binoculars again, seeing the Chinese scurry around like ants, some rushing over to the motor pool to mount the vehicles. A siren wailed as the enemy began returning fire. The artillery guns began shooting almost instantly, and Kapur could see the FAVs speeding out of their garages, their weapons manned. Chinese troops began emerging from the buildings, many carrying antitank weapons or grenade launchers.
“They’re reacting pretty fast.” Alam noted.
“Yes, they look very professional. See how they’re reporting to their squads first before running off? It’s a shame that they’re going to be dead or imprisoned by tomorrow.” Kapur said. Watching the chaos begin to unfold, he suddenly was struck. This is what he would be living through now. Every day will now be a fight for survival. He reached into his breast pocket and drew out a picture of his wife and daughter. They would no doubt be worried sick about his safety now. They were probably huddled around a TV or computer watching the news at this very moment. He sighed. They shouldn’t have to worry. He knew that everything would be alright. It would take the entire PLA to bring him down. His determination was insurmountable, and he felt unstoppable. Courage was rising in his heart. He would do this. He would lay waste to the Chinese scourge, and live to one day tell his grandchildren about it.
“Call in the helo support.” He told a radio operator, then raised his voice. “Soldiers!” He stood up, chambered a round in his INSAS assault rifle, then held it high. “Advance!!” He heard the thumping of a number of grenade launchers as his men fired smoke grenades out into the open ground to cover the advance. The entire group sprang to their feet and rushed forward as one. They roared in determination, their voices echoing across the clearing. Major Kapur saw a man leading the charge, an Indian flag in his hands held high in pride. He bolted forward with the group in a surge of adrenaline.
The Chinese were shocked by this sudden appearance of a massive formation. They shouted and pointed, crying for their officers to redirect forces to the new threat. The machine gun nests opened up just as the smoke screen began spreading, with muzzle flashes flickering and flashing in the distance like distant lightning. Kapur heard rounds whiz by and tracers reach out towards them.
“Spread out!!” He screamed. If they stayed bunched up like this, they would be cut down.
The Indians returned fire as they rushed on undeterred by the menacing MG fire. A few enemy soldiers fell dead as the snipers and gunners on the hill took their shots.
Kapur knew that they couldn’t keep this up while the gunners still had full view of them, and prayed that the smoke would start picking up soon. He held his INSAS in front of him and fired several shots in the general direction of the machinegun nests, hoping to keep at least a few heads down. The man next to him wailed in pain as a 5.8mm round buried into his thigh. He collapsed into the snow, writhing in pain as more rounds raked to ground around him. Kapur threw himself to the dirt.
“Man down! Man down!” He cried scanning the chaotic battleground for a medic. He could see that a few other men were laying motionless, and most of the unit pinned down behind whatever cover they could find. He squinted through the horrid mix of snowfall, smoke, and gunpowder but couldn’t see anyone responding to his call. He looked back down at the wounded man, who was howling in agony.
“Medic!!” Still no response from his troops. He cursed and pulled out his own first aid kit. He cut open the soldier’s uniform and saw the place where the bullet hit. There was a disgusting gaping hole below the man’s leg, and blood was oozing out. If the bullet wasn’t removed and the bleeding stopped fast, he was as good as dead. Kapur tried to remove the lodged round, but it was too deep and blood sprayed out the more he tried. Suddenly the man grew silent, and was no longer squirming but laying perfectly still, his breathing slow and heavy and his eyes shut. He knew this look all too well.
“Don’t give up, damn it.” He yelled. Don’t be my first casualty… He tried to dig down further, but the round was nowhere to be found.
Then the soldier turned his head up just slightly, looked him in the eye, and said quietly, “It’s no use sir. I can feel it all the way up in my hip.” He then coughed violently, groaned before he suddenly seemed to sink down in the snow and stop breathing altogether.
Kapur felt a surge of fury. “Where the hell was a ****ing medic?!” He shouted at no one in particular.
“No one can hear you, Major.” He heard Alam’s voice say behind him. He turned to see the Captain kneel beside him, loading a 40mm fragmentation grenade round into his rifle’s under barrel launcher. “Your radio got hit.”
Kapur looked at the receiver on his shoulder, it was a mangled mess of wires and shattered plastic. He snarled and cursed once again at the distant Chinese.

Alam tossed him his own radio and pointed. “The smoke screen is full. The enemy’s going to be blind here.” The Chinese fire began to grow more erratic and poorly aimed.
“Good. Next thing they’ll see is our bullets in their faces.” Kapur held up the radio. “This is Saber-Six, now’s our chance. Move up.” Kapur glanced up at the sky, he could see a flash. The opposing air forces were clashing above him. He also heard the distinct sound of helicopter rotors approaching. The gunships were on the way. He raised his rifle and shot into the smoke cloud, hoping to at least keep a few heads down on the other side. He then bolted forward with Alam following close behind. The enemy machinegun fire was now erratic and random, a sign that the gunners couldn’t see what they were shooting at. The Indian swarm lurched forward once more, the flag carrier leading in front, all shouting “Remember Kathmandu!!”
They were closing the gap between the trees and the nests fast, and the enemy fire had stopped completely.
“What…are…they…doing?” Captain Alam grunted between breaths.
“Waiting for us to pass through the…” The Major never finished his sentence, as just then seemingly the entire row of enemy guns opened up at once, with devastating precision. The soldiers dropped like flies in groups of three or four, and grenades went off all around.
“****! ****!” Alam swore as he hit the dirt.
Kapur shouted “They must have fitted thermal sights,” He waved the scared young Captain on. “We have to keep moving or they’ll zero in on us.” He looked around, expecting to see his troops halt. But they weren’t, instead he could see that they were growing angrier and angrier. The sight of their screaming wounded comrades served to further enrage the group, and not one of the hundreds of troops charging stop, save the medics. It made Kapur proud, and he smiled with joy.
These are what true heroes look like…[I] He picked up his sprint, undeterred by the snapping of rounds past his head. The flag runner at the front took a bullet in the stomach, and collapsed to the ground with blood gushing of his wound. He tried to push himself back up, to carry the honor of his nation on, but another burst of 14.5mm rounds tore through his head, ripping off a chunk of his skill and face with a horrid crunch. The remains of the poor soul lay in the snow, still gripping the flag in death.
Kapur felt his own rage growing inside him.
“Animals!” He cried aloud, “****ing [I]animals!” He was now only forty or so feet away from on of the enemy nests, and he could see it plainly. There were three people behind a circular wall of sandbags draped with a camouflage netting on top. One was manning the QJG-2 heavy machine gun, which sure enough had a thermal sight fitted on the barrel. The other two were using a QJY-88 machinegun and a QLZ-89 35mm grenade launcher respectively. The grenade launcher would be a significant threat, the QLZ could lob high explosive shells on full automatic or in bursts with devastating effect, and unlike its American and European counterparts, it was man portable. The QLZ operator was casually lining up a target, and in an instant, two friendly soldiers were reduced to inhuman piles of mangled flesh. Kapur looked at Deepak.
“Captain, get a frag on that nest ASAP, or it’ll chew us apart.”
Alam looked at the target, then frowned. “I can’t get a clear view from here.”
“Then move. I’ll cover you, go!”
The man shuddered, then regained composure. “Sir!” He barked, then crawled off.

Kapur raised his night vision goggles, as the constant high volume of fire resulted in a blinding white flash amid the grainy green view from the goggles, making everything nearly incomprehensible. Flares shot up from his troops also provided an almost daytime lighting condition for periods of time. He squinted his eyes at the MG nest uncomfortably close in front of him. The people inside seemed to be unaware of his presence, but it was terrifying to know that if they did, his life would be over before he could even raise his rifle. Meanwhile, stomach churning killing raged the forces went at each other’s throats. One young Private, no older than twenty, barely old enough to shave, tried to charge an emplacement as his buddy provided covering fire. Kapur reached for his radio to warn him of the errors in his judgment, but it was pointless. He scarcely made it three steps before he took a sniper round to the chest.
“This place is a meat grinder!” He heard someone yell.
“Major, what do we do?! Half my squad is dead or dying!” He heard another.
“Everyone stay down.” He ordered. “Don’t stick as much as a hair above cover. Try to use grenades and controlled bursts. Snipers, gunners, step up the pace. We need those nests suppressed pronto!” He was about to shout for Alam to get his *** over to the nest and throw a his grenade, but muffled report of “Frag out!” negated the need. He saw a small, round form hurl towards his target nest…then ricochet off the side of a sandbag wall like a squash ball. It blew apart harmlessly twenty feet away from its intended target, and the enemy soldiers instantly scanned the area for the thrower. Kapur was about to warn Alam to take cover and stay low when the machine gunner locked eyes with him. Kapur’s heart leaped as rounds thudded into the snow around him.
“Lieutenant, get me some covering fire!” He shouted as he crawled backwards. He rolled to the side and put a few shots in the nest’s general direction. There was no way he could take them out in time, he knew.
The grenadier’s probably getting a bead on me right-
A massive clap of thunder assaulted his ears, and chunks of soil and rock pelted him from above and the side.
****! He fired several more shots blindly in front of him. He had to think fast, the next grenade would probably land right on him. He had to get moving; they would probably gun him down right as he stood up but it was his only chance. Kapur took a deep breath, then pushed off the ground. He could see all three Chinese in the nest aiming right at him. It seemed like he was too late, they were certainly going to get him.
Maybe I had felt too invincible after all… He thought grimly. But he wasn’t going to go quietly, he raised his INSAS and flipped the firing mode to full auto and cut loose. The unflinching Chinese seemed like they were just starting to pull their triggers when suddenly the whole nest blew apart in a cloud of smoke. Kapur looked up to see a HAL gunship hovering just forty meters above the hilltops behind him, saturating the line of defenses with 30mm cannon and unguided rocket fire. The Indians roared in joy as the Chinese foot soldiers scattered away from their entrenched positions and fell back towards the main base.
Kapur laughed aloud. “Good, run away like the cowardly rats you are!” To his troops, he waved them on. “Forward! Rush their positions before they regroup.” He watched as the reinvigorated soldiers rushed ahead once more, picking off stragglers or those who tried to stay put and fight. He ordered his men to form up on him before they pushed on into the outpost’s main area.

As he made his way towards the purported entrance to the underground segment to the outpost, with his reorganized squad following right behind him, he heard the sound of vehicle motors and whirled around, rifle ready. He was relieved to see his mechanized forces rolling in; a line of Mahindra Marksman light vehicles and Abhay IFVs were moving through the northern part of the outpost, mowing down any resistance in their paths and smashing the parked WZ551s and helicopters before their crews could get them started. Their dismounted infantry were sweeping each building, and Kapur could see flashes of gunfire through the windows of several. Farther back, the T-90 Bhishma main battle tanks were swiveling their turrets side to side, searching for any more prey.
“Sir, Sergeant Rakeesh reports that his forces has neutralized the main base defenses. The path is wide open. We can finish this now.” Lieutenant Alam reported.
“Not yet, Deepak.” Kapur replied. “We still have one final push before the day is won.” He motioned for his troops to hold up, then motioned to a pair of ten foot tall concrete doors at the hillside in front of them.
“Get the breaching charges ready.” He ordered and made sure he had a full clip in his rifle. A pair of soldiers with specially designed breaching charges moved in towards the doors, but before they reached them, they cracked open. The Indians instantly leveled their sights on the entrance, but no one came out. There was muffled voice pleading in Mandarin coming from inside, and a quivering hand emerged, holding a white cloth.
“Hold your fire!!” Kapur ordered. A frightened, young face peeked out as the door opened further. Blood was dripping from a wound on his forehead. Kapur motioned the man to come out. The Chinese turned around and said something to others inside the bunker. Thirty-five to forty Chinese personnel, many wounded to varying degrees, and mostly non-combat personnel, cautiously came out and lined up in front of their to-be captors, all making sure to show that they were unarmed. The Indians cheered and congratulated each other, as they had won one of, if not the first victory in the war, and had opened a decisive gap in Chinese lines that would surely be exploited by friendly forces. As Kapur ordered his troops to round up and restrain the prisoners, he turned to face his overjoyed soldiers.
“We have done it!” He exclaimed, “We have shown that the all powerful Chinese aren’t so invincible as they had once thought. This is just one of man

[BTR74]

many servings of rightful justice delivered to the imperialists. Tibet today, Beijing tomorrow! Remember Kathmandu!!”
“Remember Kathmandu!!” The crowd roared back enthusiastically, beginning the next great war with a thunder of applause.

[xxxthatcherxxx]

shouldnt you be working?

[superkrait]

This is good stuff mate, keep posting!

[ShadowDiver]

First off, I love it! Very good, love the plot, I think this has great potential!

BUT:
I read this paragraph: - The last major war in the Middle East takes place. Hezbollah insurgents take control of the Lebanese capital of Beirut and execute the President. Almost immediately, a joint American-Canadian-Turkish-EU force is authorized to intervene and assist the government-loyal Lebanese military. An amphibious force lands on the coast while Arab troops move in from Jordan. They link up with Lebanese Armed Forces and launch a massive counter attack into the rebel held north. Syria, fearing that it may be boxed in, rolls two tank divisions over the border and engages the allies. They respond with large scale air-raids on Syria itself and authorize their troops to push into the nation to overthrow the Syrian government.
The SCO watches in horror as allied forces crush the Syrian army and occupy the nation. As the world is distracted by the chaos, tensions reach near-breaking point. Russia halts gas supplies to Europe and China rapidly increases prices on exports. The post-occupation Iraqi government places it’s forces at the Iran-Iraq border on high alert, ordering it’s forces to shoot any Iranian troops that cross on sight. Many fear that a world war is imminent as both sides gear up for fighting. The standoff becomes white-hot as the Norwegian Air Force forces a civilian Russian airliner to land after violating a no-fly zone in the Barents Sea during naval exercises. The crew and passengers are detained as questioned as Russia increases it’s saber rattling.
Only through intense negotiations at the UN, both sides accept an Ethiopian proposed peace plan, and the standoff ends. UN peacekeepers, mainly from non-aligned African nations, take over the occupation of Syria. High casualties sustained by American troops shatters Americans’ felling of invincibility.

Where is Israel in all this? Israel being a Middle East "Super Power". If this would go down, I am SURE that Israel would have a major part in any campaign in this area.

Just wondering....

Anyways keep up the great writing!

[Trion34]

i feel so left out you mention norway and sweeden but not denmark

[BTR74]

Im sorry http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_frown.gif

And Ill keep them coming. And consider the timeline mostly non-canon, I'm editing it currently

[xxxthatcherxxx]

even tho u have too much free time on ur hands


well done mate