If you're thinking the threadmarks look different, they are; I just changed the last threadmark title
Voting for Charlie's assignment is still open.
The barrage of following reports, however, significantly improved Long Caster's mood. Apparently in response to Osea's declaration that they had built
yet another godforsaken Arsenal Bird, Yuktobania, Emmeria, the Federation of Central Usea, the Eastern Osean Mutual Self Defense Force, the IUN-PKF high commissioner, and nearly every other party to the IUN tripped over themselves in their rush to announce their support of the expansion to IUN-PKF Extraterrestrial Command's authority, giving their own IUN-PKF-XCOM branches near total control over all spaceborne military assets over their own space, along with control of the space above international waters.
Technically, Bradford informed Long Caster with his best shit-eating grin, technically the definition of all uncharted space as "international waters" meant that the IUN-PKF-XCOM had
absolute control of military hardware in the orbitals. Technically they would absolutely be in the right to sail armed satellites over Osean outer space. Buuuut Osea apparently was insistent to voice their own support, so IUN-PKF-XCOM would have to content itself with merely effectively controlling every single speck of space above literally everywhere over the globe except for Osea's internationally recognized boundaries.
Long Caster could only give something between half a grimace and a smile in response - he
was - no,
had been - an Osean soldier, even if he had a lot of reasons to disagree with the current political leadership.
Still, he'd take whatever victories he could.
The other news that Bradford had to deliver was a lot less optimistic; while the IUN had agreed to merge more branches to the IUN-PKF-XCOM, in Bradford's opinion, it looked like the primary reason for doing so with the Usean air forces was because there was an absolutely critical lack of pilots - the Lighthouse War's opening phases, just before the LRSSG took the field, was absolutely
devastating to the IUN's forces, and the IUN hadn't received the support they needed to recover from the aggressive, nearly-suicidal probing attacks during the opening phase of the war. The nature of said suicidal probing attacks generally meant that pilot recovery was significantly worse than expected; the previous war had taught Oseans and by extension the IUN that air rescue was fairly reliable, but the era of drone warfare had quite evidently put paid to that. The deep-strike doctrine then adopted by the Osean Army - sorry, "Self-Defense Force" - generally meant that pilots behind enemy lines
couldn't be picked up for fear that operational tempo would slow down, so the end result was that the IUN's Usean air forces had few planes and fewer pilots.
This was...a negative and a boon, considering XCOM USEA had nearly twenty-one pilots and only eleven planes.
On the plus side, the relative proximity to the drone-controlled zone to the forward base ensured that most of the logistical assets, including the support crews for said logistics, were in good shape - somewhere Long Caster could hear Daniel Snow's voice saying "so they're dogshit then," even though Long Caster knew that Daniel Snow was logically nowhere near the building. Moreover, Fort Greys Island Air Base was being slated for a transfer over to XCOM USEA's command, and that would plug a
very big hole in the current defensive network against the aliens.
Well, in any case, it wasn't information Long Caster could use at first; Bradford sheepishly admitted after some prodding that technically none of the paperwork had gone through yet; these were all preliminary bits of information and nothing was really
signed, but it was what could be expected.
Long Caster shrugged, and set about making another coffee.
Dammit, he really liked that coffee. At least the breakfast bagel sandwich was okay.
When Long Caster reported to Pulford's office to report, he was confronted with a certain image.
On Stephen Pulford's desk, a man of proud North Point tea-drinking heritage, the French press was nowhere to be seen. What was seen was the heater, and a heap of instant coffee packets carelessly ripped open, as Stephen Pulford mechanically ripped another packet and poured it straight into a cup of boiling black tar.
"Sir?" Long Caster asked, hesitantly.
"Oh, don't
you be such a prickler about this. Yes, I am from North Point, and yes I enjoy a good cup of grey, but I understand the necessity of extremely strong beverages in times of great need, and I find myself in need of that," Pulford snapped, eyes blinking open and shut rapidly.
Then Long Caster smelled the coffee and felt faintly worried. It was the smell of coffee, but instead of diluted as a normal cup might be, instead it was concentrated into a physical assault on his nose, the sheer overpowering
strength of the mix exceeding anything he had ever had the displeasure of smelling. This included that back-alley dive that turned out to mostly be food-poisoning central, that Huxian's friend recommended.
Stephen Pulford took it off the heater and threw back a huge gulp.
"Sir, how are you even...
drinking that?" Long Caster said, faintly horrified.
Pulford took a slow look at the cup, intently drilling a hole where the mixture was attempting to corrode its way out of its delicate ceramic container.
"I suppose I can only tolerate it because my hatred exceeds the hatred of this liquid," he finally said. After a few more swills, he stopped looking at the cup and instantly bored straight into Long Caster's eyes.
"Long Caster, report," the baleful eyes issued.
[] [Pulford] What do you report to Pulford?
I'll answer the question of what it was next update or so.
At the end of the day, however, Long Caster found himself staring at even more bad news, probably courtesy of the Osean Arsenal Bird. Damn were those things just bad news all around.
Large concentration of alien craft assembling in orbit. Estimated number: 100+. At least two new classes of -
Then the message hit again. It was unmistakable.
Under Thought Weakness Not Enough
Long Caster's gut dropped. Somehow, though, he forced himself to read to the end of the report.
vessels. One the size of other fighters, another larger than the six-gun class. Three of the large unknown alien craft confirmed, size of force and intent unclear at present moment. Monitoring will continue.
