The Regency War Part 8: On Stormy Seas
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The Regency War Part 8: On Stormy Seas
The Regency War Part 8: On Stormy Seas
Bintang
Some ask: Why?
Because this is happiness. Let me explain. When it became clear that the Malacca Strait would be crusted green, they bled dry all manner of capital from the nearly-choked Indochina. When it became clear that righteous men and women of all kinds would take up arms against injustice, the forces of reaction did the only thing they could.
Little wonder that our kin one and all, those left behind, are equal brethrens in this struggle.
But I digress. When all these transpired, I came from nothing, the middle-child who stumbled into command of a trawling ship when the lapdogs of the GDI took and took. Within the confines of this ship, after I lost all, I made a declaration. A selfish simple wish to be happy.
In the fulfilment of this wish, I found that happiness that I wished relates to being secure. It relates to steadiness in a life where one's basic needs are cared for. But I also found that in the search of happiness, what makes me happy is the thrill of mastering fate. That thrill, I first found when I delivered rice bags to the needy when discovery meant death. That thrill, that feeling of defying the world, is one I kept through the years, and this is why I stand here, in the frontlines. Because this thrill too, is my happiness.
And here and now, though you all might not share with me the thrill, you all here share the desire for happiness. If not for yourself, then for others you fight for.
So let us sublimate it all. Into this momentous act.
—
Rear Admiral Ranjeet Savitr had been reclining in his stateroom – a pointless luxury on a modern ship, especially with how everything he needed could be fit into something about the size of a desktop workstation. Space and steel were cheap, especially on a GDI battleship. His hands had cupped a steaming mug of ersatz coffee – sweet, malty and dark – a combination of roasted barley and chicory root, with an extra hit from a chemically-produced caffeine powder. While standard was always available, this was (like most simulated coffees) a special blend, made by the ship's chef.
When the news came, Savitr nearly choked on his coffee as the screen in the stateroom displayed the recorded movements of the Brotherhood fleets. Eyes blinking as if to clear away a mirage the Rear Admiral acted quickly.
It has been said a captain can never show his fear, but an Admiral cannot even show concern. So Savitr rose, brushed down his uniform, collected his mug, and began a resolute march down two decks to the combat information centre, to where he would meet his foe yet again. He knew deep within his fast-beating heart that a rencounter was always in the wings. Moreover, he knew that he would not be a match to Bintang. He survived Natuna Isles, and for that he gained an extra star and a new ship. The last new, rather. Fuji was the last testament of the old GDI that fancied a global hegemony, before realizing thereafter that the authority had left them, relegating it into the role of a glorified picket ship.
Glorified. That was the word Savitr thought even as his face betrayed no emotions to his subordinates. The Peter Principle was not quite in action, but it was close. He and the Fuji are more alike than unlike here, cast as they were into a depth where either may not survive. But by the gods, both will try their best. On their end are the two Battle Groups Raj Kaul and Talay Khan. The former he commanded, and the latter was lead by his once-savior, Rear Admiral Saiga Ito. At their side were the combined forces of seven Governors, a pair of carriers, and a pair of battleships. Augmenting them were the ground support of the 9th Reserve Division, who counted among them the rotated veteran forces of the 17th Field Artillery Brigade; and Yokohama Air Command, which counted among them the ace Lourens "Kappa 1" Rini and the distinguished 98th Fighter Group "Blue Talons."
Against most aggressors, this was a formidable force. But Bintang spared no expenses. Here, the Warlord went to war with all her might. Here, forty-seven ship signatures are arrayed against the entirety of the Home Islands and the Korean Peninsula, spread across six different battle fleets. Here, defeating each and every single one of the battle fleets piecemeal was entirely possible.
Were it not for the fact that the Pirate Queen's personal armada was boldly striding forth, barreling straight for Tsushima Strait and from there, gods knows what. But with 15 ships of varying sizes including the Rajanaga, no one wanted to find out. Even if it was a feint, such considerations are not worth the risk of letting an opposing wartime fleet make their charts that way. This was not unlike what Stahl had committed, but different scales allow for different tactics. The Battle Groups would make their way to meet Bintang, while smaller flotillas backed with ion cannon bombardments could shift the tempo of the battle.
This was the plan, and with this confidence in mind, the two Battle Groups sail to meet their destiny.
"Sir, Orbital Command is standing by and ready to fire," barked one of the junior officers.
"Tell them to fire when ready, Lieutenant. And signal the fleet, we sail immediately."
Thousands of kilometers away, a bolt of brilliant blue lashed down from the skies, and a cluster of contacts vanished in the arcing plasma. But minutes later, as the Initiative's virtual eyes blinked away the stars, the group – all six ships – was still there, making good speed towards Kyushu. As other blasts rained down upon the contacts with similarly unimpressive results, Savitr turned to the rest of his command staff. "Gentlemen, it appears that the lady intends to make us earn our salt the hard way."
Savitr had watched the impending encounter with trepidation but not fear. Not yet. The news of the failed Ion Cannon bombardments was lamentable, but it was partially expected. One of the greater unknowns since the battle of Natuna Isles had been how expensive shipborne Ion Cannon defenses were. He does not yet know why the hostile fleets survived the repeated hammerings, only that it was to be shuffled into the mental folder labelled 'NOD Bullshit' and left for InOps to sort out later. On their own, the threat of each individual fleet was marginal,each only having among themselves six or seven hulls. The littoral forces with land-based support could handle those – at a ruinous cost of steel and souls, but it was doable.
Now though, he is in the engagement range for the Raj Kaul Battle Group. The carriers Einar and Huang Zong had already made their sorties, their Firehawk compliments making repeated strikes against the separated fleet groups. But like porcupines, the Queen's Armada amply equipped themselves against such attacks. Laser-based point defenses were the new norm against any launched missile warheads, and Bintang's newly created battlecruisers equipped themselves with multi-laser AA 'sweepers'. None of the Firehawks were destroyed, but none among the Armada suffered more than minor damages either.
But regardless, the inconclusive engagement tells more of what Bintang has to offer. The Rajanaga is a given, and the two battlecruisers seem to be miniature facsimiles of the infamous flagship. In the case of the attendant fleets, they are the flagships. The ones in the Armada may come with their own Ion Diffusers, or perhaps they're loaded with something else. Their cruisers – four in total – on the other hand seem to be primarily armed with missiles and represent a potent answer to the Governors. Brotherhood Vertical Launch Arrays are always an odd-ball, considering the multiple variants of payloads the Brotherhood have at their disposal, especially for naval warfare. With the Brotherhood tending to favor lighter missiles launched in massed salvoes, they are prone to seeding their barrages with vast numbers of penetration aids and specialist munitions, most notably low yield tactical nuclear warheads.
And then there are the destroyers. Savitr is familiar with them, though the Berberoka-class seems to have been refined after the lessons of Natuna Isles, where all eight were sunk. Visually there are eight of them, but two seemed suspiciously lightly armed, in the sense of being more defensively oriented than their fellows. But looks can be deceiving, especially for the Brotherhood.
"Savitr, your orders?" Saiga's almost casual tone puts him out of his musings. Though the fellow Rear Admiral is five years his senior, he deferred judgement to Savitr. The pressure is immense, but the duty is paradoxically relieving. If he falls down with the ship, then it will be after all is given.
So he exhales. And makes his command.
Kym Hasek of the 11th Strike Squadron stood before her Aurora, watching as the last of six RATO pods was carefully attached to her aircraft. They had a mission, a payload, and (finally) a time to serve their primary purpose. To deliver pain very, very precisely. She would be number one on this attack mission. With her were nine of her companions, organized into two five-bomber flights. With the Auroras being finicky beasts under the best of circumstances, having two of their number out due to mechanical problems would not be the worst downcheck rating the squadron had gotten since they received the new machines.
As the flight line readied up, Kym's helmet intercom crackled "Engine 1, Online. Engine 2, Online. Scramjet, Online. Sensors, Online. Weapons, Online. All Systems Nominal."
The engines trembled, vibrating the aircraft as they choked on the thick atmosphere. The first pair of RATO units kicked in, two rocket engines working up enough airspeed to get that first critical few hundred meters – get enough airflow that the engines would start properly. As Kym was pushed back into her seat a second, nose-mounted pair fired, forcing the aircraft towards an eighty-degree climb. The final pair was held as an emergency backup in case she needed more speed, but for now – safely in the air – it was time to climb. Settling her aircraft into a shallower angle, she began a long looping turn, every meter up adding several meters to the spiral as the rumble of the engine became ever smoother. Below her, two squadrons of Apollos made their own ascent, before settling in for a cruise at a lower altitude.
Making her way south, even with her engines eating up kilometers per second, Kym had time to go over the mission briefing one more time. "Remember, stay high, stay fast, drop everything, and then shuttle out to Australia on your reserves. Bintang is likely to attempt strikes on airfields, and you are unlikely to have time to return and rearm before she is in range. So get out, save the airframes, and land there. Australia Command is expecting you."
Below, Brotherhood naval fighters – mostly Barghests – climbed to meet her. At first, they seemed no threat – just like the Mantises, the SAM sites, and everything else the Brotherhood had thrown in her direction above Russia, above China, above the Arctic ocean and above these very waters. The Barghests were similar enough to standard models, their xenotech engines pushing as fast as they could go. Admittedly slower than a Firehawk, but not by that much, and with their ability to maintain that speed at any angle. But also below her was a squadron of Apollos. With the wingmen drones reserved for more northerly squadrons, rather than her escorts on this attack run, they were a simple dozen aircraft keeping pace with Kym's squadron at a calm cruising speed, holding fuel in reserve for the long flight ahead of them.
As the Barghests began to rise, the maneuvering flaps on the Apollos extended as one after another they began to roll into dives, missile bays sliding open. QAAMs raced among the Barghests – most missing, but some few making hits and damaging or destroying their targets. But even with the damages, the Barghests kept climbing, reaching for an altitude where they could launch on the Auroras and have any chance of hitting them. As they reached this apex, still kilometers below the bombers, they salvoed off dozens of missiles, each climbing on a streak of flames and a trail of smoke. With closing velocities at such high speeds, Kym had no chance to maneuver – with the launch less than ten kilometers away, it was in effect at point blank range. It would have been ten seconds to impact if the missiles were only standing still, and in reality it was just under three seconds before the two groups intercepted each other. The two crossed in a storm of countermeasures as chaff and flare pods blazed out to disrupt the incoming missiles' guidance. Fortunately for Kym, the missiles did not find her aircraft, and the rest of her squadron was behind her, able to get through with no more than scratch damage. The Barghests turned to dive, breaking away from the Apollos even as yet more of the attackers fell from the skies, claimed in the fractional seconds that Apollo autocannon played across their space.
Arriving at the target area – the wind whining as it played over a fracture created by fragmentation from one of the missiles – the battlegroup was far below her aircraft. As Kym's finger slipped onto the release trigger, the kickers for the four glide munitions snapped them out into the airstream, lifting bodies wiggling as they found their equilibrium point. By the time they reached their target they would be moving at around 1300 meters per second, and each of the four glide bombs (assuming they were inert devices) would impact with some 1,267,500,000 Joules, or an impact marginally less energetic than the explosive payload of a 20th century TLAM-C. These were far from inert. Rather, each carried several hundred kilograms of high explosives, wrapped in an armor piercing case. On impact, the fuse was set for about a quarter second – in which time the device would penetrate deep into the core of the ship, and detonate. In a SinkEx against an old and retiring Arleigh Burke, one of the two munitions used in the exercise overpenetrated and detonated beneath the hull of the target. Therefore, following the four bombs dropped by Kym were thirty-six more, released by the other members of her squadron as they began the sweeping dog leg that would take them out over the Australian Red Zone before landing.
Kilometers below the squadron, a pair of Nagas, a tender, and a flotilla of destroyers were the intended target. As the bombs streaked down from the heavens, a blaze of incoming fire rushed the other way. One womped into shrapnel from a plasma blast. Others fell prey to lasers as they flashed time and time again. Countermissiles roared up from the destroyers, conic shapes barely steady as they rose on columns of flame and smoke. More of the incoming bombs fell prey to these weapons, but it was not enough. A destroyer nearly split in two as a bomb slashed into the roof of its forward turret before shattering the forecastle as the explosive detonated. A Naga had four splash nearly perfectly around her, buckling in the hull panels and tearing loose one of the screws as the ship began to limp. Other ships bucked and twisted as detonations ripped them apart. Kym however was already over the horizon, deep in the dark blue.
«Where did that come from?!»
«Below! All flights, evasive maneuvers now!»
Erupting from the waves were dozens of fighters: a new Barghest variant. Sleek extended teardrops with a central bulge for the cockpit ), water running off the split tail as they began to maneuver. Having been silent and hidden, running on their gravitic drives and tended to by submarines, they were finally ready to make their attack properly. From each, missiles reached up towards the Firehawks and Apollos above them, scattering GDI fighters amidst flurries of countermeasures and jammers. While few of the missiles found their marks, the Initiative fighter groups carried few air-to-air missiles of their own, most burdened down by AShMs. While these new Barghests – later given the designation "Kelpies" – were relatively few in number, with the Initiative having well over a three to one advantage in airframes, the advantage in terms of air to air firepower leaned severely in the Kelpies' favor, with only half as many missiles being launched in return, mostly from the Apollos as they emptied their internal bays.
For most of the history of guided missiles, the standard fuse has been a proximity device, derived from the VT fuses of the Second World War in many cases, with the warhead detonating up to several meters away from the aircraft, and producing kills from fragmentation. Here, the Kelpies drove straight through the missiles, heedless of the blasts that raged around them, their skin becoming pockmarked as fragments splashed against hulls. The squadrons closed, seeking the range for their plasma cannons to make hits. Diving against them were Apollo squadrons, autocannons blazing forth streaks of green as copper compounds in the base of every tenth round, a holdover from the days where the only way to target was with reflection and optics, flared and combusted. The rounds, mostly explosive and incendiaries, spattered against the hulls, with only the occasional armor piercing rounds punching through into the interiors.
Undeterred by the fire flailing around and on them, the Kelpies stuck to their formation, and as the Apollos began to climb out of their attack runs they made a salvo of parting shots, their own streaks of green plasma racing to meet the Initiative formation. While at this range (and with the rapidly changing kinematic situation) few of the shots made impact, a handful of Apollos began to spiral towards the sea – their airframes twisted by the blasts, many ablaze from secondary fires. But their real target – Firehawks by the dozen, nearly all loaded down with naval strike packages, missiles and bombs hanging heavy from their munitions pylons – was still ahead. With their missiles expended, the Kelpies were among the Firehawks like hawks against sparrows, burning through their targets with brutal efficiency. Attack groups punched down aircraft after aircraft. Rather than try to complete their strike, the Firehawks dumped their munitions, and those squadrons that had stratoboosters hit them to quickly climb out of the battle space and return to their home bases. Those who had not elected to mount boosters – in many cases to make space for more and heavier munitions – fell in large numbers as the Kelpies had free reign.
Antiaircraft missiles from the fleet, from ships that had survived the first clash, began to reach the dogfight soon afterwards. The much larger missiles, carrying over twice the payload of any air to air missile currently in use, were confounded by the Kelpies' superior maneuverability, with many failing to manage acceptable intercepts before running out of energy or losing their targets. Of the dozens of missiles poured into the battle space, only six managed to make contact – two of them producing glancing hits no more effective than any other missile had managed, three achieving some level of damage from a close ranged blast, and one actually downing a Kelpie, its proximity fuse failing and the secondary impact fuse touching off in contact with its target's hull.
Out west, while Bintang's surface fleet had been raging with all the fire and fury they could muster, dozens of black shapes slipped through the water. Quiet enough that they were effectively empty holes in a silent sea, they made five knots as they took their time. So long as the fleet was distracted, the damnable V-35s grounded or out of the way, they were safe here beneath the waves.
Eight hundred kilometers from the Home Islands of Japan the submarines rose to launch depths, before speaking. Savitr's fleet was hundreds of kilometers out of position to do anything, and so GDI's military and civilian operations across Japan lay defenseless before the barrage. A cruise missile, even a supersonic one, has a noticeable period of vulnerability even to a basic autocannon. Back in the Second World War, by June and July of 1944, just under twenty percent of all V1 attacks were being shot down by proximity-fused, radar-directed anti-aircraft guns across southeastern Britain. While a modern missile would be faster, harder to spot, and flying far lower, the same basic principle applies, with anti-aircraft emplacements and missile launchers creating curtains of fire to reduce the effectiveness of the attack. A ballistic missile, for a comparison, flies much higher, and by the time it arrives at the target it is well north of Mach 3, and depending on the model and course, can reach velocities north of Mach 5, and presents a very small target to the defenders below.
Early warning radar installations across the Japanese Home Islands registered launch after launch, and over the next minutes, helpless to do anything against the incoming fires, they could do nothing but sound the shelter alarms. As the rain reached its apex, it shattered into dozens of new contacts, raining down across the Tokyo prefecture. Most targeted military complexes, raining down on the naval bases, military barracks, munitions factories and the like. But while most such sites are sprawling complexes, some are scattered through residential neighborhoods, and dozens of missiles fell outside of actual targets – wayward munitions hit apartment blocks, shopping districts, and two fell on an enclosed park.
Savitr coughed at the smoke filling the CIC from blasted fuse boxes. Surges had blown out many of the lights. Tactical plots flickered and fuzzed. But the Fuji had survived. The same was much less true for the rest of the fleet. Multiple Governors had been sunk, and the other battleship had been blasted into scrap metal. The Fleet could, at best speed, make seven knots, hulls bleeding into the water. Around the group, hydrofoils – held back from the main engagement – swarmed, providing what aid they could to keep the ships afloat and functional. Others swept the waters, looking for survivors.
Bintang's fleet had been equally savaged, falling back, harried by GDI strike groups. The Rajanaga had been mauled when it sailed into the depths of the Initiative fleet, and had barely escaped destruction at their hands. It was a victory, but one that had required her to show many of her cards.
Sailing towards Tokyo harbor, the first thing the fleet saw was smoke still rising towards the heavens. While fire teams and damage control groups had brought most of the fires caused by secondary explosions under control, multiple tank farms had been devastated, burning months' worth of fuel production in hours. A dense haze still covered the area, smog the likes of which had not been seen for years. Coming into dock, the crew offloaded had to wear respirator masks to safely traverse the kilometers to their quarters as construction and repair crews swarmed over their ships. Many would take months to repair, if they could be repaired at all.
Australia
"Bless the Maker and His water.
Bless the coming and going of Him.
May His passage cleanse the world.
May He keep the world for His people. "
-Prayer of the Australian Brotherhood.
Despite the shipment of massive quantities of war materiel, the defense of Northern Australia has collapsed. While the southern offensive did have to take a significant breather after running out of steam in the previous months offensive, the other Initiative forces in the region were still fresh and able to pour on in from other positions, and with the drastic shortening of the lines concentrated Initiative assets were able to continue the offensive.
Partially this was a matter of training. While the local Brotherhood knew well the value of Stealth Tanks, Scorpions, and old-style Vertigo bombers and could use them well, newer assets like the Centurion were just that – new. And while they are certainly familiar with certain parts of the system, a Centurion as a whole is a very different beast to the Purifiers and Avatars that the Australians had used for decades. This in turn led to a number of catastrophic mistakes, where the Centurion – a substantially lighter and less capable walker – was expected to fight in the positions and roles of previous mechs, rather than as a main battle asset.
While a short overall thrust – less than a day's drive at top speed – GDI took well over two months to secure the territory. In a series of short pushes driving the enemy back carefully, GDI units rarely pushed forward more than ten or fifteen kilometers a day, instead focusing on maintaining the cordon and preventing breakthroughs as the increasingly desperate Australian Brotherhood launched counterattack after counterattack.
The port of Townsville became increasingly busy throughout the last quarter of the invasion, as an endless stream of ships attempted to pull men and materiel out of the region, often signalling that they were in the process of civil evacuation to avoid strike by GDI forces – especially the Aurora bombers that increasingly prowled the Coral, Arafura, Bismarck and Solomon seas, hunting for the naval forces that had so embarrassed GDI before.
The final real battles occurred just south of Townsville, where the Brotherhood of Nod chose to make a stand. With their mechanized forces depleted after a long winter campaign, many expended wastefully in poorly-done attempts to conduct fighting retreats. In the region, there are few real natural defenses for the Brotherhood to take advantage of, and while the Brotherhood had been able to bleed and stall GDI with a long campaign of hit and run tactics, and trading space for time, at Townsville they found they had no choice. To the north, the warm waters of the ocean; to the west, Tiberium; and to the east and south, GDI. Here, the Brotherhood had run out of space, especially because they had no other choice but to keep the port open and evacuate as many as they could.
When GDI arrived, the fighting quickly bogged down into tense urban combat. The Brotherhood had largely been reduced to using armored fighting vehicles in fixed positions and infantry units as the mobile assets. The remaining mechs were the only force that they had as a proper mobile reserve. By mid September, GDI had encircled the city, and had brought not just anti-shipping missiles but tube artillery within range of the port facilities, closing up operations with a last pair of cargo submarines leaving on the 17th. With the encirclement now complete, GDI demanded a surrender on the 18th, which was refused by the Brotherhood commander, and the bombardment began by the early afternoon. Barrages reduced much of the defenses south of the town to bouncing rubble, with over five hundred tubes firing for hours on end. At dawn of the next day, the offensive launched off, with two brigades attacking along the southern side of Lake Ross, and another three along the northern side, hammering into the Brotherhood's defensive positions. While lasers and conventional rounds lanced out from the entrenchments, the lasers spattered and skittered across the ablat, and for every round that went out from the Brotherhood, GDI responded with five; and the defenses rapidly crumbled. By the end of the day, GDI had taken up new positions on the outskirts of the city, and over much of the next week, Initiative forces dug the Brotherhood out of the town block by block and often room by room. By the end of the day on the 24th, the Brotherhood had either surrendered, died, or were on Magnetic Island, across an 8.5 kilometer strait. The position there was a fortress, dug deeply into the island, and while not self sustaining, nearly impossible to dig out without reducing the island completely. Operations instead slowed to a crawl. While beam cannons and dug in Spectres continue to lash out from deeply dug in positions, they were responded to by nearly ten times their weight in Initiative fires. Even so, the Brotherhood still holds the island, and there are currently no plans to try to dig them out. Rather, it will be a long slow siege until they break from the mental strain of constant low level shelling, or run out of food and supplies.
The effective end of Brotherhood resistance anywhere close to the Australian Blue Zone is a grand opportunity for the Initiative. While regions like Greenland have usually been free of the Brotherhood in any military capacity, they are also poorly populated, with the need to build massive housing and services complexes for even simpler facilities, let alone a project like the Nuuk Heavy Robotics foundry. Australia however is both far more pleasant to live in, and has the advantage of having a sizable home grown industrial, academic, and technological base. In the near future, rather than being a toehold on a continent mostly controlled by the Brotherhood, the Australian blue zone is likely to become a heavy industrial power house, including large shipbuilding, and in the north of Australia, space launch complexes. However, there are still practical challenges, not least of which is distance. While ships and aircraft are certainly fast, it is still quite the journey, across boundless tracts of open waves at best, and Brotherhood infested depths at worst.
The Regency War Part 8: On Stormy Seas
Bintang
Some ask: Why?
Because this is happiness. Let me explain. When it became clear that the Malacca Strait would be crusted green, they bled dry all manner of capital from the nearly-choked Indochina. When it became clear that righteous men and women of all kinds would take up arms against injustice, the forces of reaction did the only thing they could.
Little wonder that our kin one and all, those left behind, are equal brethrens in this struggle.
But I digress. When all these transpired, I came from nothing, the middle-child who stumbled into command of a trawling ship when the lapdogs of the GDI took and took. Within the confines of this ship, after I lost all, I made a declaration. A selfish simple wish to be happy.
In the fulfilment of this wish, I found that happiness that I wished relates to being secure. It relates to steadiness in a life where one's basic needs are cared for. But I also found that in the search of happiness, what makes me happy is the thrill of mastering fate. That thrill, I first found when I delivered rice bags to the needy when discovery meant death. That thrill, that feeling of defying the world, is one I kept through the years, and this is why I stand here, in the frontlines. Because this thrill too, is my happiness.
And here and now, though you all might not share with me the thrill, you all here share the desire for happiness. If not for yourself, then for others you fight for.
So let us sublimate it all. Into this momentous act.
—
Bintang's strategic position had been an odd mix of secure and precarious ever since the Third Tiberium War. While her island fastnesses were far from centers of GDI strength, and her walls of steel could raid and pillage as she wished, she was also isolated, surrounded by Red Zones and far from other warlords and the broader Brotherhood.
«Where is Mita? Sortie is soon.»But this has changed much, over the decades. Just as the GDI changed, so has the Brotherhood, often in halting, jerky steps. And for one such as Bintang, the most talented of naval commanders by virtue of ever-honed veterancy, the halting motion is that of a squall. Sudden, and coming from a discrepancy of pressure.
«It's 1530, Kieran. Come now.»Natuna Isles was one thing, a baring of fangs that ended in an inconclusive yet agreed upon acceptance on both sides that then, GDI's latest in naval upgrades were adequate and could outpace the pre-existing material condition. But GDI is a behemoth pulled in so many ways by popular will more than technocratic tendencies. The naval deficiency, Bintang had surmised, was a weakness that could be exploited. Only just. The plans for the Regency War were ever fluid, even then – but in striking first, Bintang's star of infamy faded from perception as other Warlords tried to match her starting bet with more and more bombastic acts of warring. And as the star faded, so did the desire of outpacing Bintang's naval edge.
«Oh right. Prayer time though – at this hour?»And when the Regency War started in earnest, Bintang had more than a few arrows in her quiver. Like a squall, she descended with that self-same alacrity, stunning all GDI observers at the break of noon when the thousands of thousands of buoys and sensors chained together in the atolls of South China Sea blinked in unison. This joined gesture was thought to be a mass malfunction at first. Surely, the two clusters of signatures balling their way to Kyushu were just blinkered sensors, no?
«Hou je kop, Kappa 2 and 3. Kappa 4's religiosity is not an acceptable topic.»To the mortification of all said observers, the sensors blinked further. Three signatures. No, fou- six. Six massed signatures of varying sizes arraying themselves on ingress coordinates of not only Kyushu, but also the Korean Peninsula. 'No,' was the disbelief of the sensor officers, who flashed the priority message to Philadelphia II and it is a message that rebounds back down to GDI worldwide.
«Kappa 4 is Ready. Let's go.»Bintang has come. And she is here to take GDI's measure for good in East Asia.
– The Last Admiral (2089), an anonymously written biography on Talitha Bintang
– The Last Admiral (2089), an anonymously written biography on Talitha Bintang
Rear Admiral Ranjeet Savitr had been reclining in his stateroom – a pointless luxury on a modern ship, especially with how everything he needed could be fit into something about the size of a desktop workstation. Space and steel were cheap, especially on a GDI battleship. His hands had cupped a steaming mug of ersatz coffee – sweet, malty and dark – a combination of roasted barley and chicory root, with an extra hit from a chemically-produced caffeine powder. While standard was always available, this was (like most simulated coffees) a special blend, made by the ship's chef.
When the news came, Savitr nearly choked on his coffee as the screen in the stateroom displayed the recorded movements of the Brotherhood fleets. Eyes blinking as if to clear away a mirage the Rear Admiral acted quickly.
It has been said a captain can never show his fear, but an Admiral cannot even show concern. So Savitr rose, brushed down his uniform, collected his mug, and began a resolute march down two decks to the combat information centre, to where he would meet his foe yet again. He knew deep within his fast-beating heart that a rencounter was always in the wings. Moreover, he knew that he would not be a match to Bintang. He survived Natuna Isles, and for that he gained an extra star and a new ship. The last new, rather. Fuji was the last testament of the old GDI that fancied a global hegemony, before realizing thereafter that the authority had left them, relegating it into the role of a glorified picket ship.
Glorified. That was the word Savitr thought even as his face betrayed no emotions to his subordinates. The Peter Principle was not quite in action, but it was close. He and the Fuji are more alike than unlike here, cast as they were into a depth where either may not survive. But by the gods, both will try their best. On their end are the two Battle Groups Raj Kaul and Talay Khan. The former he commanded, and the latter was lead by his once-savior, Rear Admiral Saiga Ito. At their side were the combined forces of seven Governors, a pair of carriers, and a pair of battleships. Augmenting them were the ground support of the 9th Reserve Division, who counted among them the rotated veteran forces of the 17th Field Artillery Brigade; and Yokohama Air Command, which counted among them the ace Lourens "Kappa 1" Rini and the distinguished 98th Fighter Group "Blue Talons."
Against most aggressors, this was a formidable force. But Bintang spared no expenses. Here, the Warlord went to war with all her might. Here, forty-seven ship signatures are arrayed against the entirety of the Home Islands and the Korean Peninsula, spread across six different battle fleets. Here, defeating each and every single one of the battle fleets piecemeal was entirely possible.
Were it not for the fact that the Pirate Queen's personal armada was boldly striding forth, barreling straight for Tsushima Strait and from there, gods knows what. But with 15 ships of varying sizes including the Rajanaga, no one wanted to find out. Even if it was a feint, such considerations are not worth the risk of letting an opposing wartime fleet make their charts that way. This was not unlike what Stahl had committed, but different scales allow for different tactics. The Battle Groups would make their way to meet Bintang, while smaller flotillas backed with ion cannon bombardments could shift the tempo of the battle.
This was the plan, and with this confidence in mind, the two Battle Groups sail to meet their destiny.
The Battle for Tsushima Strait – named such for the denial objective of the GDI forces – started off in an inauspicious manner for the Initiative and the strategy that R.Adms. Savitr and Saiga committed to. It hinged on the crucial assumption that none of Bintang's attendant fleets were able to match the overbearing firepower of the Ion Cannons. It was a hinge that ultimately failed, as the first two arrows nocked on Bintang's quiver were the countering of GDI's orbital supremacy.
Through means unknown to the Initiative, Bintang had levied a considerable favour from the Inner Circle, those august stewards of Kane's return. The Pylon. An unassuming name for a piece of technology derived from the last Threshold Tower, it allowed for near-perfect transferral of energy between wireless pylons. Such a technology was supposedly always on offer for Warlords who wished for it. But between short use-life, prohibitive creation cost, and most importantly, lack of need, it was never taken.
But an active GDI created this need. The paradigm of 'heavy steel' is an inevitability in naval combat, and massed fleet engagement is required. So combining this hard-bought technology with stolen schematics for GDI's peaker plants, Bintang had created her Tenaga-class Power Ships and did the unthinkable: created mobile and sustainable Ion Diffuser Shields.
And when it became apparent to GDI that the flagships of Bintang's attendant fleets – all five of the modified Naga-class battlecruisers – repelled GDI's ionic aggression, both Rear Admirals were already committed to the most significant naval engagement since Leyte Gulf. Not the largest in terms of hulls or displacement, but this would be the first of the last of humanity's wars on the seas.
– The Last Admiral (2089), an anonymously written biography on Talitha Bintang
Through means unknown to the Initiative, Bintang had levied a considerable favour from the Inner Circle, those august stewards of Kane's return. The Pylon. An unassuming name for a piece of technology derived from the last Threshold Tower, it allowed for near-perfect transferral of energy between wireless pylons. Such a technology was supposedly always on offer for Warlords who wished for it. But between short use-life, prohibitive creation cost, and most importantly, lack of need, it was never taken.
But an active GDI created this need. The paradigm of 'heavy steel' is an inevitability in naval combat, and massed fleet engagement is required. So combining this hard-bought technology with stolen schematics for GDI's peaker plants, Bintang had created her Tenaga-class Power Ships and did the unthinkable: created mobile and sustainable Ion Diffuser Shields.
And when it became apparent to GDI that the flagships of Bintang's attendant fleets – all five of the modified Naga-class battlecruisers – repelled GDI's ionic aggression, both Rear Admirals were already committed to the most significant naval engagement since Leyte Gulf. Not the largest in terms of hulls or displacement, but this would be the first of the last of humanity's wars on the seas.
– The Last Admiral (2089), an anonymously written biography on Talitha Bintang
"Sir, Orbital Command is standing by and ready to fire," barked one of the junior officers.
"Tell them to fire when ready, Lieutenant. And signal the fleet, we sail immediately."
Thousands of kilometers away, a bolt of brilliant blue lashed down from the skies, and a cluster of contacts vanished in the arcing plasma. But minutes later, as the Initiative's virtual eyes blinked away the stars, the group – all six ships – was still there, making good speed towards Kyushu. As other blasts rained down upon the contacts with similarly unimpressive results, Savitr turned to the rest of his command staff. "Gentlemen, it appears that the lady intends to make us earn our salt the hard way."
Savitr had watched the impending encounter with trepidation but not fear. Not yet. The news of the failed Ion Cannon bombardments was lamentable, but it was partially expected. One of the greater unknowns since the battle of Natuna Isles had been how expensive shipborne Ion Cannon defenses were. He does not yet know why the hostile fleets survived the repeated hammerings, only that it was to be shuffled into the mental folder labelled 'NOD Bullshit' and left for InOps to sort out later. On their own, the threat of each individual fleet was marginal,each only having among themselves six or seven hulls. The littoral forces with land-based support could handle those – at a ruinous cost of steel and souls, but it was doable.
Now though, he is in the engagement range for the Raj Kaul Battle Group. The carriers Einar and Huang Zong had already made their sorties, their Firehawk compliments making repeated strikes against the separated fleet groups. But like porcupines, the Queen's Armada amply equipped themselves against such attacks. Laser-based point defenses were the new norm against any launched missile warheads, and Bintang's newly created battlecruisers equipped themselves with multi-laser AA 'sweepers'. None of the Firehawks were destroyed, but none among the Armada suffered more than minor damages either.
But regardless, the inconclusive engagement tells more of what Bintang has to offer. The Rajanaga is a given, and the two battlecruisers seem to be miniature facsimiles of the infamous flagship. In the case of the attendant fleets, they are the flagships. The ones in the Armada may come with their own Ion Diffusers, or perhaps they're loaded with something else. Their cruisers – four in total – on the other hand seem to be primarily armed with missiles and represent a potent answer to the Governors. Brotherhood Vertical Launch Arrays are always an odd-ball, considering the multiple variants of payloads the Brotherhood have at their disposal, especially for naval warfare. With the Brotherhood tending to favor lighter missiles launched in massed salvoes, they are prone to seeding their barrages with vast numbers of penetration aids and specialist munitions, most notably low yield tactical nuclear warheads.
And then there are the destroyers. Savitr is familiar with them, though the Berberoka-class seems to have been refined after the lessons of Natuna Isles, where all eight were sunk. Visually there are eight of them, but two seemed suspiciously lightly armed, in the sense of being more defensively oriented than their fellows. But looks can be deceiving, especially for the Brotherhood.
"Savitr, your orders?" Saiga's almost casual tone puts him out of his musings. Though the fellow Rear Admiral is five years his senior, he deferred judgement to Savitr. The pressure is immense, but the duty is paradoxically relieving. If he falls down with the ship, then it will be after all is given.
So he exhales. And makes his command.
Kym Hasek of the 11th Strike Squadron stood before her Aurora, watching as the last of six RATO pods was carefully attached to her aircraft. They had a mission, a payload, and (finally) a time to serve their primary purpose. To deliver pain very, very precisely. She would be number one on this attack mission. With her were nine of her companions, organized into two five-bomber flights. With the Auroras being finicky beasts under the best of circumstances, having two of their number out due to mechanical problems would not be the worst downcheck rating the squadron had gotten since they received the new machines.
As the flight line readied up, Kym's helmet intercom crackled "Engine 1, Online. Engine 2, Online. Scramjet, Online. Sensors, Online. Weapons, Online. All Systems Nominal."
The engines trembled, vibrating the aircraft as they choked on the thick atmosphere. The first pair of RATO units kicked in, two rocket engines working up enough airspeed to get that first critical few hundred meters – get enough airflow that the engines would start properly. As Kym was pushed back into her seat a second, nose-mounted pair fired, forcing the aircraft towards an eighty-degree climb. The final pair was held as an emergency backup in case she needed more speed, but for now – safely in the air – it was time to climb. Settling her aircraft into a shallower angle, she began a long looping turn, every meter up adding several meters to the spiral as the rumble of the engine became ever smoother. Below her, two squadrons of Apollos made their own ascent, before settling in for a cruise at a lower altitude.
Making her way south, even with her engines eating up kilometers per second, Kym had time to go over the mission briefing one more time. "Remember, stay high, stay fast, drop everything, and then shuttle out to Australia on your reserves. Bintang is likely to attempt strikes on airfields, and you are unlikely to have time to return and rearm before she is in range. So get out, save the airframes, and land there. Australia Command is expecting you."
Below, Brotherhood naval fighters – mostly Barghests – climbed to meet her. At first, they seemed no threat – just like the Mantises, the SAM sites, and everything else the Brotherhood had thrown in her direction above Russia, above China, above the Arctic ocean and above these very waters. The Barghests were similar enough to standard models, their xenotech engines pushing as fast as they could go. Admittedly slower than a Firehawk, but not by that much, and with their ability to maintain that speed at any angle. But also below her was a squadron of Apollos. With the wingmen drones reserved for more northerly squadrons, rather than her escorts on this attack run, they were a simple dozen aircraft keeping pace with Kym's squadron at a calm cruising speed, holding fuel in reserve for the long flight ahead of them.
As the Barghests began to rise, the maneuvering flaps on the Apollos extended as one after another they began to roll into dives, missile bays sliding open. QAAMs raced among the Barghests – most missing, but some few making hits and damaging or destroying their targets. But even with the damages, the Barghests kept climbing, reaching for an altitude where they could launch on the Auroras and have any chance of hitting them. As they reached this apex, still kilometers below the bombers, they salvoed off dozens of missiles, each climbing on a streak of flames and a trail of smoke. With closing velocities at such high speeds, Kym had no chance to maneuver – with the launch less than ten kilometers away, it was in effect at point blank range. It would have been ten seconds to impact if the missiles were only standing still, and in reality it was just under three seconds before the two groups intercepted each other. The two crossed in a storm of countermeasures as chaff and flare pods blazed out to disrupt the incoming missiles' guidance. Fortunately for Kym, the missiles did not find her aircraft, and the rest of her squadron was behind her, able to get through with no more than scratch damage. The Barghests turned to dive, breaking away from the Apollos even as yet more of the attackers fell from the skies, claimed in the fractional seconds that Apollo autocannon played across their space.
Arriving at the target area – the wind whining as it played over a fracture created by fragmentation from one of the missiles – the battlegroup was far below her aircraft. As Kym's finger slipped onto the release trigger, the kickers for the four glide munitions snapped them out into the airstream, lifting bodies wiggling as they found their equilibrium point. By the time they reached their target they would be moving at around 1300 meters per second, and each of the four glide bombs (assuming they were inert devices) would impact with some 1,267,500,000 Joules, or an impact marginally less energetic than the explosive payload of a 20th century TLAM-C. These were far from inert. Rather, each carried several hundred kilograms of high explosives, wrapped in an armor piercing case. On impact, the fuse was set for about a quarter second – in which time the device would penetrate deep into the core of the ship, and detonate. In a SinkEx against an old and retiring Arleigh Burke, one of the two munitions used in the exercise overpenetrated and detonated beneath the hull of the target. Therefore, following the four bombs dropped by Kym were thirty-six more, released by the other members of her squadron as they began the sweeping dog leg that would take them out over the Australian Red Zone before landing.
Kilometers below the squadron, a pair of Nagas, a tender, and a flotilla of destroyers were the intended target. As the bombs streaked down from the heavens, a blaze of incoming fire rushed the other way. One womped into shrapnel from a plasma blast. Others fell prey to lasers as they flashed time and time again. Countermissiles roared up from the destroyers, conic shapes barely steady as they rose on columns of flame and smoke. More of the incoming bombs fell prey to these weapons, but it was not enough. A destroyer nearly split in two as a bomb slashed into the roof of its forward turret before shattering the forecastle as the explosive detonated. A Naga had four splash nearly perfectly around her, buckling in the hull panels and tearing loose one of the screws as the ship began to limp. Other ships bucked and twisted as detonations ripped them apart. Kym however was already over the horizon, deep in the dark blue.
The records were clear on what R.Adm Savitr ordered and by all means it was a clean plan. The carriers and their wings would continue interdiction, until friendly air elements could arrive on scene for a massed push. The Battleships Fuji and Hallasan would take on the Rajanaga and her two attendant Nagas while the Governors ensured that none got in the way. Like all good Admirals, he trusted in his captains' ability to execute them cleanly.
«Yokohama, ETA is 30 seconds. Orders.»And for the encounter, it was the Fuji that fired first. Solid railgun munitions fired from medium range travelled straight towards the Queen Admiral's flagship. First blood went to GDI, as the rounds battered the Rajanaga and her attendants. But before the battle could begin in earnest, Bintang broadcasted in all channels, boosted to reach GDI media arms on what GDI analysts derisively called 'an accord.' That for all the levelling of Ion cannon bombardments, GDI had forced her hands and that she would escalate to meet the weapon usage in the only way the Brotherhood could. 'For this battle only,' she relayed, 'the bet is raised.' So here, through the veil of decorum, the Ulars began their nuclear-laced bombardment of GDI ships.
«Kappa 1, objectives remain the same. Once Blue Talons enter the combat airspace, command will be transferred to Talay Khan.» Though as a general rule GDI's equipment is shielded against EMP blasts, Bintang's low-yield nuclear missiles were never designed to hit GDI's naval vessels. They were meant to blind the sensors, trusting in the volume of fire of the multi-missile barrage to damage GDI ships, and to ensure that the suddenly barreling Armada could force the engagement range to a much closer one via distraction. Almost immediately, the cruiser Raskolnikov drew the short straw. While the detonation blinding its sensors began to dissipate, the EWAR pods in Bintang's barrage activated, scattering hundreds of false signatures amid the incoming fire. As Rasolnikov switched its point defense batteries to manual control, it opened fire, visually acquiring and punching out dozens of incoming missiles as it slewed wildy back and forth in an attempt to cut down on the number of incoming munitions that could hit it. In its location among one of the vanguards of the combined Battle Groups, it admirably shot down most of the missles headed its way. But as one of the first hulls to have their sensors blinded, it eventually suffered a direct hit to the bow.
«Copy. EMP levels?»The blast, though no larger than the Davy Crockett of old, gutted the entire front of the ship, disintegrating the railgun turrets and swallowing the CIC whole. Raskolnikov, the survivor of Natuna Isles, was only the first of GDI's ships to die. It was the sobering event that dispelled all illusions: This battle would be a bloodbath to all.
«Minimal. Radiation is non-concern.»Immediately, Raskolnikov's brethren sought their vengeance and the air was filled with all manner of projectiles. This would not be a battle where a numerically superior Brotherhood fights against the materially superior Initiative. This would be one where two doctrinally different groups fight against one another. And for the GDI Governors, that doctrine is a doctrine of unavoidable slug shots that gouge and rend and tear apart their counterpart Ulars. Even with damage control capability that matched GDI vessels, there were no answers to be given for Naresuan, whose magazine stacks exploded in a chain reaction that split the superstructure in half. A karmic end, in the eyes of some, for the ship that had launched the fissile-ladden payload that destroyed Raskolnikov.
«Compliance. Talay Khan, we are vectoring in, ETA 10 seconds. Orders?»Of course, the greater battle was a conflagration in terms not seen in this decade. Entire chapters could be written on the proliferation of the Gana, where Bintang outfitted secondary turrets on the Rajanaga to fire Gana pods, dispatching the cephalopodic menaces at the duelling battleships. Boardersdeformed railgun barrels, and in the case such is not enough, jammed themselves into the turrets. They do not die easily even under literal fire, limbs severing automatically and acting as flaming whips that fly back at their Zone Trooper aggressors. The]Berberokas themselves – aside from their own considerable missile batteries – fired torpedo pods carrying Afanc-class Gana that swam inside hull breaches made by more conventional torpedoes, catching unfortunate seamen in painful death rolls. Entire treatises could and have been written of the controlled scramble of GDI vessels to avoid the torpedoes, about the heroics of Talay Khan's Firehawks, who twisted and turned and died and delivered payloads between laser sweeper fire, taking down two Berberokas and damaging three more.
«A sound for sore ears. Blue Talons, support the remaining craft in the airspace. Push the Brotherhood armada back!»But all eyes were on the dueling flagships, even as the Governor Salavat slipped beneath the waves after taking down the Berberoka Birsa Munda and the Ular Bayinnaung. It was a mid-range duel where railguns were deadlier but plasma more crippling. Each and every salvo from the combined plasma batteries of the Rajanaga and the attendant Naga-class Pyinsarupa and Navagunjara that struck the decks of the Initiative battleships irrevocably damaged the railgun turrets and point defenses in equal measure, even if the superstructures were left relatively intact. For fifteen minutes, the clash continued with no clear winner, even as all five vessels smoked and scorched with mounting damage visible. Neither side was so lucky – or unlucky, depending on point of view – as to suffer a catastrophe to equal their escorts' rapid demise. They were far too big, and too well armored, and (in the Brotherhood's case, with their choice of weaponry) paradoxically undamaging in the capital ship exchanges.
«Very well. Kappa Squadron, prepare AShMs»
But the equilibrium was always unstable. And at the 18 minute mark since the sinking of Raskolnikov, Pyinsarupa's main rudders were struck dead-on by Hallasan's three remaining unslagged railguns. More than that, GDI's cavalry were in the wings. The Blue Talons had entered the area of operations, and seemed ready to tip the scales. But unbeknownst to the GDI at the time, Bintang was ready to launch the second of her nocked arrows.
\\ Lock-on Warning! Lock-on Warning! //«Very well. Kappa Squadron, prepare AShMs»
But the equilibrium was always unstable. And at the 18 minute mark since the sinking of Raskolnikov, Pyinsarupa's main rudders were struck dead-on by Hallasan's three remaining unslagged railguns. More than that, GDI's cavalry were in the wings. The Blue Talons had entered the area of operations, and seemed ready to tip the scales. But unbeknownst to the GDI at the time, Bintang was ready to launch the second of her nocked arrows.
«Where did that come from?!»
«Below! All flights, evasive maneuvers now!»
Erupting from the waves were dozens of fighters: a new Barghest variant. Sleek extended teardrops with a central bulge for the cockpit ), water running off the split tail as they began to maneuver. Having been silent and hidden, running on their gravitic drives and tended to by submarines, they were finally ready to make their attack properly. From each, missiles reached up towards the Firehawks and Apollos above them, scattering GDI fighters amidst flurries of countermeasures and jammers. While few of the missiles found their marks, the Initiative fighter groups carried few air-to-air missiles of their own, most burdened down by AShMs. While these new Barghests – later given the designation "Kelpies" – were relatively few in number, with the Initiative having well over a three to one advantage in airframes, the advantage in terms of air to air firepower leaned severely in the Kelpies' favor, with only half as many missiles being launched in return, mostly from the Apollos as they emptied their internal bays.
For most of the history of guided missiles, the standard fuse has been a proximity device, derived from the VT fuses of the Second World War in many cases, with the warhead detonating up to several meters away from the aircraft, and producing kills from fragmentation. Here, the Kelpies drove straight through the missiles, heedless of the blasts that raged around them, their skin becoming pockmarked as fragments splashed against hulls. The squadrons closed, seeking the range for their plasma cannons to make hits. Diving against them were Apollo squadrons, autocannons blazing forth streaks of green as copper compounds in the base of every tenth round, a holdover from the days where the only way to target was with reflection and optics, flared and combusted. The rounds, mostly explosive and incendiaries, spattered against the hulls, with only the occasional armor piercing rounds punching through into the interiors.
Undeterred by the fire flailing around and on them, the Kelpies stuck to their formation, and as the Apollos began to climb out of their attack runs they made a salvo of parting shots, their own streaks of green plasma racing to meet the Initiative formation. While at this range (and with the rapidly changing kinematic situation) few of the shots made impact, a handful of Apollos began to spiral towards the sea – their airframes twisted by the blasts, many ablaze from secondary fires. But their real target – Firehawks by the dozen, nearly all loaded down with naval strike packages, missiles and bombs hanging heavy from their munitions pylons – was still ahead. With their missiles expended, the Kelpies were among the Firehawks like hawks against sparrows, burning through their targets with brutal efficiency. Attack groups punched down aircraft after aircraft. Rather than try to complete their strike, the Firehawks dumped their munitions, and those squadrons that had stratoboosters hit them to quickly climb out of the battle space and return to their home bases. Those who had not elected to mount boosters – in many cases to make space for more and heavier munitions – fell in large numbers as the Kelpies had free reign.
Antiaircraft missiles from the fleet, from ships that had survived the first clash, began to reach the dogfight soon afterwards. The much larger missiles, carrying over twice the payload of any air to air missile currently in use, were confounded by the Kelpies' superior maneuverability, with many failing to manage acceptable intercepts before running out of energy or losing their targets. Of the dozens of missiles poured into the battle space, only six managed to make contact – two of them producing glancing hits no more effective than any other missile had managed, three achieving some level of damage from a close ranged blast, and one actually downing a Kelpie, its proximity fuse failing and the secondary impact fuse touching off in contact with its target's hull.
Out west, while Bintang's surface fleet had been raging with all the fire and fury they could muster, dozens of black shapes slipped through the water. Quiet enough that they were effectively empty holes in a silent sea, they made five knots as they took their time. So long as the fleet was distracted, the damnable V-35s grounded or out of the way, they were safe here beneath the waves.
Eight hundred kilometers from the Home Islands of Japan the submarines rose to launch depths, before speaking. Savitr's fleet was hundreds of kilometers out of position to do anything, and so GDI's military and civilian operations across Japan lay defenseless before the barrage. A cruise missile, even a supersonic one, has a noticeable period of vulnerability even to a basic autocannon. Back in the Second World War, by June and July of 1944, just under twenty percent of all V1 attacks were being shot down by proximity-fused, radar-directed anti-aircraft guns across southeastern Britain. While a modern missile would be faster, harder to spot, and flying far lower, the same basic principle applies, with anti-aircraft emplacements and missile launchers creating curtains of fire to reduce the effectiveness of the attack. A ballistic missile, for a comparison, flies much higher, and by the time it arrives at the target it is well north of Mach 3, and depending on the model and course, can reach velocities north of Mach 5, and presents a very small target to the defenders below.
Early warning radar installations across the Japanese Home Islands registered launch after launch, and over the next minutes, helpless to do anything against the incoming fires, they could do nothing but sound the shelter alarms. As the rain reached its apex, it shattered into dozens of new contacts, raining down across the Tokyo prefecture. Most targeted military complexes, raining down on the naval bases, military barracks, munitions factories and the like. But while most such sites are sprawling complexes, some are scattered through residential neighborhoods, and dozens of missiles fell outside of actual targets – wayward munitions hit apartment blocks, shopping districts, and two fell on an enclosed park.
Savitr coughed at the smoke filling the CIC from blasted fuse boxes. Surges had blown out many of the lights. Tactical plots flickered and fuzzed. But the Fuji had survived. The same was much less true for the rest of the fleet. Multiple Governors had been sunk, and the other battleship had been blasted into scrap metal. The Fleet could, at best speed, make seven knots, hulls bleeding into the water. Around the group, hydrofoils – held back from the main engagement – swarmed, providing what aid they could to keep the ships afloat and functional. Others swept the waters, looking for survivors.
Bintang's fleet had been equally savaged, falling back, harried by GDI strike groups. The Rajanaga had been mauled when it sailed into the depths of the Initiative fleet, and had barely escaped destruction at their hands. It was a victory, but one that had required her to show many of her cards.
Sailing towards Tokyo harbor, the first thing the fleet saw was smoke still rising towards the heavens. While fire teams and damage control groups had brought most of the fires caused by secondary explosions under control, multiple tank farms had been devastated, burning months' worth of fuel production in hours. A dense haze still covered the area, smog the likes of which had not been seen for years. Coming into dock, the crew offloaded had to wear respirator masks to safely traverse the kilometers to their quarters as construction and repair crews swarmed over their ships. Many would take months to repair, if they could be repaired at all.
Australia
"Bless the Maker and His water.
Bless the coming and going of Him.
May His passage cleanse the world.
May He keep the world for His people. "
-Prayer of the Australian Brotherhood.
Despite the shipment of massive quantities of war materiel, the defense of Northern Australia has collapsed. While the southern offensive did have to take a significant breather after running out of steam in the previous months offensive, the other Initiative forces in the region were still fresh and able to pour on in from other positions, and with the drastic shortening of the lines concentrated Initiative assets were able to continue the offensive.
Partially this was a matter of training. While the local Brotherhood knew well the value of Stealth Tanks, Scorpions, and old-style Vertigo bombers and could use them well, newer assets like the Centurion were just that – new. And while they are certainly familiar with certain parts of the system, a Centurion as a whole is a very different beast to the Purifiers and Avatars that the Australians had used for decades. This in turn led to a number of catastrophic mistakes, where the Centurion – a substantially lighter and less capable walker – was expected to fight in the positions and roles of previous mechs, rather than as a main battle asset.
While a short overall thrust – less than a day's drive at top speed – GDI took well over two months to secure the territory. In a series of short pushes driving the enemy back carefully, GDI units rarely pushed forward more than ten or fifteen kilometers a day, instead focusing on maintaining the cordon and preventing breakthroughs as the increasingly desperate Australian Brotherhood launched counterattack after counterattack.
The port of Townsville became increasingly busy throughout the last quarter of the invasion, as an endless stream of ships attempted to pull men and materiel out of the region, often signalling that they were in the process of civil evacuation to avoid strike by GDI forces – especially the Aurora bombers that increasingly prowled the Coral, Arafura, Bismarck and Solomon seas, hunting for the naval forces that had so embarrassed GDI before.
The final real battles occurred just south of Townsville, where the Brotherhood of Nod chose to make a stand. With their mechanized forces depleted after a long winter campaign, many expended wastefully in poorly-done attempts to conduct fighting retreats. In the region, there are few real natural defenses for the Brotherhood to take advantage of, and while the Brotherhood had been able to bleed and stall GDI with a long campaign of hit and run tactics, and trading space for time, at Townsville they found they had no choice. To the north, the warm waters of the ocean; to the west, Tiberium; and to the east and south, GDI. Here, the Brotherhood had run out of space, especially because they had no other choice but to keep the port open and evacuate as many as they could.
When GDI arrived, the fighting quickly bogged down into tense urban combat. The Brotherhood had largely been reduced to using armored fighting vehicles in fixed positions and infantry units as the mobile assets. The remaining mechs were the only force that they had as a proper mobile reserve. By mid September, GDI had encircled the city, and had brought not just anti-shipping missiles but tube artillery within range of the port facilities, closing up operations with a last pair of cargo submarines leaving on the 17th. With the encirclement now complete, GDI demanded a surrender on the 18th, which was refused by the Brotherhood commander, and the bombardment began by the early afternoon. Barrages reduced much of the defenses south of the town to bouncing rubble, with over five hundred tubes firing for hours on end. At dawn of the next day, the offensive launched off, with two brigades attacking along the southern side of Lake Ross, and another three along the northern side, hammering into the Brotherhood's defensive positions. While lasers and conventional rounds lanced out from the entrenchments, the lasers spattered and skittered across the ablat, and for every round that went out from the Brotherhood, GDI responded with five; and the defenses rapidly crumbled. By the end of the day, GDI had taken up new positions on the outskirts of the city, and over much of the next week, Initiative forces dug the Brotherhood out of the town block by block and often room by room. By the end of the day on the 24th, the Brotherhood had either surrendered, died, or were on Magnetic Island, across an 8.5 kilometer strait. The position there was a fortress, dug deeply into the island, and while not self sustaining, nearly impossible to dig out without reducing the island completely. Operations instead slowed to a crawl. While beam cannons and dug in Spectres continue to lash out from deeply dug in positions, they were responded to by nearly ten times their weight in Initiative fires. Even so, the Brotherhood still holds the island, and there are currently no plans to try to dig them out. Rather, it will be a long slow siege until they break from the mental strain of constant low level shelling, or run out of food and supplies.
The effective end of Brotherhood resistance anywhere close to the Australian Blue Zone is a grand opportunity for the Initiative. While regions like Greenland have usually been free of the Brotherhood in any military capacity, they are also poorly populated, with the need to build massive housing and services complexes for even simpler facilities, let alone a project like the Nuuk Heavy Robotics foundry. Australia however is both far more pleasant to live in, and has the advantage of having a sizable home grown industrial, academic, and technological base. In the near future, rather than being a toehold on a continent mostly controlled by the Brotherhood, the Australian blue zone is likely to become a heavy industrial power house, including large shipbuilding, and in the north of Australia, space launch complexes. However, there are still practical challenges, not least of which is distance. While ships and aircraft are certainly fast, it is still quite the journey, across boundless tracts of open waves at best, and Brotherhood infested depths at worst.
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