Zaa'Nabar, 12H.

The squad leader grabs the medic by the scruff of his kevlar and shoves him towards the Yelenov,"Shut up and move!" He yells at the medic as two marines approach the medic, one of them holding his rifle at his hip, lazily aiming it at the soldier while the other pats him down quickly, checking him for any weapons.

The Zeleniyan corpsman begins to stabilize the pilot, the squad leader watching over him,[/i]"Just get him stable, we need to move."

After they pat down the soldier and remove any weaponry, they ziptie him, shove him along into the hovering gunship, and wait for their squad leader. A minute or two passes, and the corpsman fireman carries the pilot into the ship, the squad leader behind. The squad leader slides the door shut and sits down across from the medic, glaring at him through his visor. The droning of the jet engines is the only sound as they fly to who knows where.

The medic is black bagged and dragged around for the next few hours. His head is forced downward, almost between his thighs as his blackbag is torn off, a gasmask is secured around his face, and the black bag is put back around his head. He is put in a sterile smelling room, and a prick is felt in his elbow. He blacks out.

He wakes from his drugged sleep some time later, how long he cannot tell. A bright light shines on his face, blinding him as he blinks turns away. There are no restraints on him, and he now wears a grey jumpsuit. He sits in a metal chair, in front of a gunsteel grey metal table.

A few distant Slavnok voices speak, but as he wakes he realizes they're very close by, behind the light. A pause as they realize he is stirring. A man steps in front of the light, his silhouette visible. He wears a heavy coat, military trousers, and a peaked cap. He stands with his hands behind his back, his voice slightly muffled behind his mask,"Are you thirsty, my friend?" He sets a bottle of water on the table. It has a paper band around it with a very generic "Water" label on it in Slavnok cyrillic, no private companies or corporation names on it.

The man pulls up a chair, sitting across from him. He takes off his cover and places it on his lap, his combed over dark hair coming into view around the light. He meshes his fingers together on the table and leans forward, he speaks in a soft tone, his voice rumbling through the thick gasmask,"My name is Lev Mashenko. I'll be your.. room service attendant, today. You need not to say anything to me, but if you want to start on the path to getting back to your home and seeing your family, you'll learn to comply. Our first objective is very simple, sir. Behind me is a camera. You will look into it, state your name, what country and branch of service you work under, your rank, your service number, and messages to family and friends. This is not a trick, my friend, this is merely to get across to your government that we have you safe in our custody, so we can negotiate your freedom. You will not deviate from what I have told you to say, and don't do any funny business. No blinking in morse code or anything like that. Trust me, my friend, I've been doing this for a while. We will begin to record, and hopefully we can do this in one take. Do you understand, my friend?"

The masked man stares at him blankly, then leans back in his chair, nodding slowly. He slowly takes the water away, standing from the chair and pulling it away from the table. He unscrews the bottlecap, unclipping the straw under the gasmask and sipping from it. He screws the bottle shut and shrugs,"We already know you are, I have your military ID along with your other personal belongings in a locker somewhere. This is merely for your government, because, as you might assume, they're going on about in the Armistice." His voice takes a mocking, deep tone,"Our soldiers, in Zaa'Nabar? Don't be preposterous, that's absurd, you leftist bastard." He stops, setting the bottle on the table again and crossing his hands in front of his belt buckle.

"You have nothing to lose from this, if you look into the camera and state what I asked of you, we will be able to negotiate with your government, and get you and the pilot out of here. If you don't, well.. I have all the evidence I need to force it down your government's throat anyway, and if you don't choose to cooperate I cannot save you from facing a trial, which, isn't quite in your favor, as you'd imagine." The man pulls out a PDA, scrolling through it with a muscular synthetic arm,"Conspiracy against the Republic, terrorism, cooperation with insurgent forces, four counts of murder against government peacekeeping forces, and eh.." He shrugs, his finger keeps flicking along,"It doesn't look good, friend. And I don't know how the jail system works in the prefectures, but the Zeleniyans' is not forgiving. Have you heard of Mirovka prison? You know what, it doesn't matter, because I'm sure you're going to make the right choice, friend."

He gives a two fingered signal to someone behind the light and steps back into the dark,"Lights, camera, action, my friend."

The man laughs, echoing off the walls of the small room, he steps back into view, raising his hands in an innocent gesture,"I don't understand why you persist! You are not even going to try to save yourself? And you know, I see this act all the time. The lizards play the warrior card, the gangsters and mobsters are the tough-as-nails convicts, and you. You're playing the jaded.. war-weary.. and apathetic soldier. Thousand yard stare and all." He leans into the desk, placing both his hands on it, and adding a mocking, sad tone when he describes the medic. He snorts and drops the tone, speaking in a very grave voice,"I'm familiar with it. And trust me, saying who you are and who you work for is a much more preferable option to what follows not complying."

"War-weary? You know who you are talking to? If you knew who I was you would understand that I enjoy what I do against your so called "peace-keeping forces," hell I'd do it all again." The soldier leans back in the chair, folding his hands in his lap and bobbing his head from side to side.

Mashenko crosses his arms, shaking his head,"Then, if you will not comply, I'm afraid my orders from the Politburo are no longer applicable. And I must now follow my directives from the agency. AY! Kobni naruch, di' komne!" Two broad shouldered gasmasked men appear from either side of the medic and take him by the elbow and shoulders, as the medic struggles and kicks, trying to get out of their grip. Lev yells over the ruckus,"Let's start then, shall we?"

He is dragged past the large floodlight, Lev presses a button on a door. It slides open, and they enter a bright little room with glass panes on either side. He then presses the button on the next door, and the two muscle heads drag him headfirst onto the other side, slamming him against the metal floor of the room outside. The medic's eyes water and his lungs feel like they're on fire, as it because more difficult to breathe. He finds himself uncontrollably coughing and gasping, as Lev yells over the coughing and hacking,"Where is your FOB? Where are the weapons drop points? How is the CFP slipping past our early detection? Answer me, private!"

Coughing, trying to speak, more coughing. KGB Agent smacks one of the buttons next to the door, he can breathe again. The medic takes this time to hack and cough, mucus flowing from anywhere it can. "Wha-" he can hardly breath, he stops mid word and proceeds to vomit onto the white floor of the room, he takes another moment to himself and looks towards Lev. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I am damn combat medic, not operations."

Mashenko yells in Slavnok, and the two guards drag him back to the room, shoving him back into his seat. The agent lays his hands down on the table,"Last chance, medic! State who you are, who you work for, and your rank! Last chance to save yourself from that kind of room service until you give me what my superiors need!"

The medic pants and pants, mucus seeping from every hole on his face. He breathes in and out, and in and out. He gains his bearing and proceeds to speak. "I-... Warrant Officer Xan Himmer. Warrant Officer Xan Himmer is who I am," he finally relinquishes what could have saved him, or doomed his country.

Two weeks after the "Crashed" incident. UCFP Operations Command saw it fit to up their operations within the Kyburiysk Oblast. The Kyburiysk Oblast was home of the Zeleniy Duga-76 the most premier of signals collection devices that Socialism could be produce. UCFP forces had started with taking out various listening posts spread throughout the jungle. Their target now was the main compound that houses the radar array.

Forward Camp, Kyburiysk Oblast.
Zaa'nabar Surface.

The camp of special operators was quiet, there was a small fire in the middle of the camp where the men with tac-beards were resting. Their XO, a Warrant Officer who had earned his position by working with the BND for two tours and now was leading a team of special operators that belonged to the Federal Marine Corps. The Warrant Officer adjusted his ball cap and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks onto his small team of about 7 men.

"Listen up. We're the forward most team and we're going to scout out the Duga complex for the rest of the force."

"Jann, but they're just a bunch of TDY troopers. I don't get it."

"I know, just listen. We're a recon element, and that's what we're gonna' do. Do some recon and surveillance. Now, leave the branch rivalry out of it. This is going to be the biggest lick we're going after this entire occupation. Now gear up, we're moving at 2300."

Hill 454, Kyburiysk Oblast.
Zaa'nabar Surface.

The small element of recon marines were positioned on top of the hill, they had quite the view for a few kilometers. They sat atop the hill, watching the installation that was merely a few hundred meters away. The were low so they did not skyline themselves along the top of the hill. Two of the men, the marksman and the XO, were conducting surveillance through their high powered range finders. The rest of the team was changing socks, and a few others were pulling security.

"Few roving patrols, Jann. Looks like four or five dudes, that's all."

"Yeah, seems like most of them are falling asleep. Shit job, huh?"

"Yup. They're days away from the front lines, or so they'd like to think. We're craving deep into their territory, they're not gonna' have a chance. But - QRF is probably an entire armored corps. So we have to be quick. Alright boys, pack up, we're moving to the edge of their perimeter."

Some of the team groaned, most of them were compliant and they continued on the LRRP.

Duga-76, 'Big Ear'.




Within the first barrage, the base's alarm sounds, and several tube-launchers mounted on various buildings launch parachute flares. The muffled screams of the gasmasked men echo throughout the facility. The three crewmen of the ZMP-2 were caught with their pants down, climbing into the ZMP-2, when they were shot preemptively. The commander stood atop the turret, raising his hands and screaming, before being shot and tumbling off the vehicle.

Once they enter the BMP, the only thing they'd probably be able to recognize is how to drive it, all the controls in Slavnok cyrillic and very different from any "western" human races fighting vehicle. The radio squelches,"Myla myla, ZEMPYE-dvat, poroscho korodoi?!"

The shilkas pull away from the breach in the wall and move away from any of the buildings, into the corners of the compound the opposite side of the breach. Their turrets traverse from their usual position aimed at the sky to the ground level, as their commanders pop up their heads above the porthole and direct their crews into a better position for the anti aircraft vehicles.

The Zeleniyan Motor Riflemen swarm to the area of entry, armed with rifles and light armor. They secure the command building as well as radio central. Deep inside the underground complex, the radiomen, analysts, and desk jockeys haul in destruction equipment, preemptively getting ready to destroy all classified radio or crypto material and equipment.

The underground complex entrance was guarded by two squads. On either side of the doors of the bunker were small slats for machineguns, with a stout barrel pointing out of each. The marksmen and machinegunners on the opposing walls rain down on the breach, suppressing anyone who dare approach.

The commander, sitting in the depths of the bunker, realizes that this is no rebel attack. He orders that flares keep being launched and that the search lights start sweeping into the night sky to signal the QRF. The robotically controlled searchlights light up the night sky, sweeping around like a hollywood movie premier or a gentlemen's club.

Duga-76.

The squads are digging into the sandbag positions around the bunker, ducking and flinching with each mortar landing. As the ZMP pulls up, the squad leader raises himself slightly above the sandbag and makes a hand signal, as the ZMP stops suddenly they look at it quizzically. They are torn apart as it begins to fire, their screams drowned out by the 35mm HEIT ammo.

A shilka pulls around the corner of a barrack building, the commander slamming down the hatch and yelling,"Agoyn!" The four barrels sweep across the abandoned ZMP-2 and towards the two rear guards, letting out an extremely high rate of fire torrent of AA rounds.

As the operators make their way into the facility, a tertiary alarm goes off, a voice repeats,"Breach, breach, breach, mask, mask, mask." twice and then shuts off. The alarm goes silent.  They would find themselves descending a single hallway with a door at the end, a camera tracks them as they approach the door. As they approach the door, the lights shut off throughout the facility. Behind the door is the main entrance area that leads to the living spaces, radio central, and command. The elite security response team of 9, a detachment of Spetsnaz GRU "Mars", digs into the central area, using columns, walls, and furniture as cover. They are armed with rifles, NVGs, and machineguns, and are using the experimental OMON-7 armored exoskeleton. They remain completely silent as they wait for their attackers.

Deeper in the facility, in radio central, the spooks have begun tearing all equipment apart. Smashing equipment with axes and hammers, burning and shredding paper and other materials, and dumping others in a vat of acid. The commander will not risk any communications security material from getting into the wrong hands.

Meanwhile, in the nearby city, a QRF is beginning its ascent up the mountain road. A platoon's worth of men in urals and UAZs, as well as 2 ZMP-2s and a Tetrovka MBT, speedily make their way up. They will be there within the next 30 minutes.

Zeleniy Defense Command Group Zaa'Nabara, Zaa'Nabar Space.
Nemyt-Praly Space Station.



The CIC lights up, as several readings bounced back from the Tula V-4 houndeye perimeter is received. Several huge radar signatures pop up, and the Cosmonauts of the command and control center alert their superiors. The ZELDEFCOMMGRUZNBR's space station is a massive logistics, communications, and defense base. It has many close-defense weapons for destroying missiles and fighters, and it gives off a large nuclear signature.

The 4th Red Fleet consists of a Burydi Carrier, two Kravenkov Battleships, a Kravenkov Missile Cruiser, and two Patrul frigates. They are all in formation around the space station, and their engines light up, turning towards the approaching enemy. The various SIGINT and CIC craft orbiting the planet pull in closer to the planet to avoid the oncoming battle and keep providing support for ground troops.

The commander, Rear Admiral Glukocz, is no fool. He is a no-nonsense individual and completely throws out steps 1-5 of the ROE for the Red Fleet protocols. He'll stand the trial if he has to, but for now he has a job to do. He gives the order to fire. The various craft give off a large locking warning, the Federation Fleet is painted with a radar lock as a torrent of missiles is let loose from the Fleet, most of them aimed for the Carrier and battleships.

So it begins, the cold war has thawed out.

Duga-76, ‘Big Ear’, Kyburiysk Oblast, Zaa’nabar Surface.
With the infantry on the topside in disorder, the two marines who had stayed behind fire their A.T. rocket at the shilka, hoping that the shaped charged blasts through the armor and melts the crew of the anti-air vehicle. After the weapon is fired, the men move to relocate, leaving the launcher behind to ease their load. They begin to fire upon any retreating motor infantry.

The men on the inside are vying for power over the firefight, astounded by the technology that the Spetsnaz GRU is armed with. Being the underdogs in the fight, they’re being as conservative as can be, that warrant officer wants no more causalities. The S.A.W. of the team keeps going in controlled bursts of varying lengths, the explosive still being thrown towards the OGA operative. One of the marines pops out of cover and starts to cut the pie to the next set of cover, his 9.62 DMR being fired at the armless operator in the attempt to let sleeping dogs lay. The warrant officer tosses two more phosphorus grenades down range.

2nd Federal Battlegroup, Zaa’nabar Space.

"Sir, the nuclear capabilities of the battle-group are up and ready to fire, the Voss, Hinkle, and Koch are ready to fire their salvos on your command. The defense station is making a hail for reinforcements, we are tasking the SIGINTers to up jamming to attempt to distort it."

The Admiral stares at the Chief of Operations for a moment, the look on his face saying everything, but he pipes up anyway.

"Have the missile cruisers send all their salvos as a distraction for the nuclear payload, I want SIGINT to keep the jamming up anyway, I do not want any COMMS for them online."

The Chief of Operations nods his head, relaying the orders given to the rest of the fleet. The missile cruisers launch their payload, ranging between 120-140 missiles between the ships, the nuclear payload follows soon after, it being aimed at the communications systems of the defense station. In the meanwhile, a Victoria class cruiser is launching a battalion of Drop Troops onto the planet's surface, the troops being vulnerable while making their way down to the planet's surface.

Duga-76 Complex.

The shilka commander's eyes go wide, slamming his hand on the top of the hull, and screaming into his headset. The shilka's turret swivels to the side as it is struck in the side. The commander is rocked, his ducking below the hatch for a moment. The shilka sits still, a smoking hole in the side. Then the sweet sound of popcorn is heard as the chassis sways from side to side. The commander's hatch is thrown open, a torrent of fire spewing out with the commander flinging himself out. He tumbles down the hull, a shrill scream escaping his lungs as he rolls in vain on the dirt.

The motostrelki are shot in the back as they retreat to the jungle's edge, all morale now gone and the unit routed.

Down in the command bunker, the fight rages on. The constant explosives kills another two stubborn Spetsnaz bastards. Four remain, fighting with ever increasing efficiency it seems as more of them are killed. As the marine cuts the pie and fires on the operator, he sweeps his machinegun at him, firing a long burst of 7.62x54ZR. He is struck several times in his heavy chest plate, once in the helmet, which rips it off, and second in the helmet again. His grey matter and circuits are splattered on the wall behind him. He stands there, twitching as the machinegun fires off the rest of the magazine. The PKP barrel is white hot and destroyed, the operator twitching in place and and remaining unresponsive.

After the phosphorous grenades are thrown, another exosuit steps out of the cloud, engulfed from head to toe in flames. He fires off the last of his mag, dropping his rifle and lazily swatting himself before he falls onto his knees, slumping back onto his legs. Just two remain. They remain in cover, when suddenly two grenades are thrown from the columns they are taking cover behind. They sprint for the command door, as it closes and locks behind them.

Zeleniyan Orbital Defense Network.

The space station broadcasts the message at a much higher power to overcome the jamming, making contact with headquarters. The Red Fleet goes into a panic as the next payload is massive. They rapid fire their missile pods, the huge SS-N-88 shipwrecker missiles careening through space. The CIWS goes crazy, all the turrets turning from target to target to engage the unlimited threat of missiles. The Fleet detects a nuclear launch warning, and is set into more panic as they can't pinpoint which is which. They fire everything in response. All anti-ship missiles, anti-radar missiles, fighters, attackers, bombers, launch all chaff. Two armed nukes fire from the Red Fleet, one from the bottom of the Burydi, and another launching from the top of the space station. One heading for the command ship and another for the battlegroup carrier.

As the dropships descend into the atmosphere, two fast moving contacts approach them from above. Two ZMiG Interceptors in low orbit do a loop and maneuver down on the dropships, their infrared and radar missiles acquiring locks.