Got some folks to acknowledge for technical advice and background planning such as Tomcat Lover and Turtler most recently. I've made a couple of edits on the prevopis chapter, mainly to do with the Atlantic Federation so go over for a recap. I hope to release another chapter soon so sorry for the wait.

Why aren't there any F-35s a reviewer asked? Where are all the toys? I'm not going to answer that right away. It's not hard to work it out if you read and it's no good spilling it all straight away. I will make an effort to put more into expanding the backstory for both Endwar and Valkyria Chronicles. For further enquiries, feel free to page me.

It had been a week since General Blaise and the Principality of Gallia came to an agreement. The Joint Strike Force was essentially homeless and without a mission while Gallia was still on the back foot despite the hard-won victories at Kloden and Vasel. The answer to both their problems was simple; Prime Minister Maurits von Borg offered them refuge in return for their services in defending the country. A joint US-Gallian command was to be established in which JSF personnel would be attached as advisors and specialists to Gallian units where needed. This included combat operations, training and support. The rest of the American forces will remain under a separate chain of command to the Gallians.

Meanwhile only a trickle of JSF personnel and equipment was leaving FOB McMasters this was because of a massive quarantine effort in an effort to stymie the impact of any foreign species that may also have made the 'transition'. The base perimeter was sealed off with high mesh fences to prevent anything as small as insects getting through. A moat around the base two kilometres out was dug and every living thing needed to be sterilised in case any foreign species may have escaped. This wasn't difficult with intersecting high-powered microwave fields. Catchers and hunter teams moved in to sweep up the survivors. Entrances to the base were staffed with decontamination teams which sanitised every person and piece of equipment in transit.

The quarantine extended to any form of media which were brought by the Americans, most of them called it censorship. The operation was centred aboard the USS Bannerman, a Clarance E. Walsh-class ship, popularly dubbed as E-Frigates. With the growing importance of electronic and cyberwarfare capabilities, future Walsh cruisers were given the go-ahead in the mid 2010s, years after the lead vessel was sunk. Additionally, these ships could also support the functions of missile defence Uplinks, making them one of the most valuable assets in any fleet. Over 9000 terabytes of pornography and other material had been purged within the day when the ad-hoc censorship committee aboard the Bannerman began scouring through the JSF intranet. There was to be no unauthorised communications from the outside to the interior until the quarantine had run its course.

At Ft Amtriain the first signs of change were evident. Just beyond the outer perimeter fence, numerous construction vehicles and workers were breaking up the ground, levelling it and setting down the concrete. Around the rest of the base, new buildings going up, some were mere extensions of existing ones while others were prefabricated structures, hastily moved into place. There was some debate over the use of the main field in the centre of the base which had easy access to the rest of Ft Amtriain and the main construction site outside. The Americans wanted to land their helicopters there until a proper airstrip could be laid down while the Gallians needed the field intact for training. They managed to reach a compromise in which the Gallians vacated the motor pool and vehicle training section of the field as a temporary heliport.

JSF personnel could be seen around the base; the majority were staff officers who returned to their own quarters when they were finished. Combat personnel who were just field advisors and liaisons for now, were allowed to billet in the same barracks as the Gallian units they were with.

Welkin was watching a caterpillar crawl along the windowsill in his office that morning, listening to the Drill Instructor Sergeant Calvaro 'Ramrod' Rodriguez exhorting Squad 7 during a PT exercise.

"One Mile!" bellowed Rodriguez as he jogged alongside the Squad.

"One Mile!" the Squad repeated, as they jogged around the base in the clear morning sun.

"Aint Shit!" he shouted.

"Aint Shit!" they followed.

"Two Miles!" he continued.

"Two Miles!"

"Ramrod must have learnt that from the Americans. I've been hearing new cuss words from him ever since we've been cross training with them."

Welkin jumped at hearing Faldio Landzaat voice so suddenly from behind.

"Geez Faldio was that really necessary?" spluttered Welkin in surprise.

"Your door was open and knowing you and your interests it was easy to get in close," Faldio replied with a grin and then noticing the refreshing drop in the mercury after he'd entered. "Wow it's cool in here."

"It's the air conditioners that Isara made last month. I predicted a temperature rise so she made one for my office and the recreation room," said Welkin.

"Been paying attention to GBS weather reports?" asked Faldio, eyeing the radio on his friend's desk, though he strongly suspected something else.

"No, I just measured the number of cricket chirps per minute outside my office, subtracted 40 from the figure, then divided the result by 7 and added 10 to the quotient to get an approximation of the temperature in Celsius. I graphed the results over a week and predicted the trend."

Faldio stared at him blankly and said, "Welkin… you can just use a thermometer you know, or better still, listen to the radio," he sighed and continued, "Anyway the Captain needs to see all Squad commanders about our new advisors and specialists."

He quickly compared his chronometer to the clock on Welkin's wall and started to leave. Welkin turned to look at the caterpillar but in its place stood a magpie with a full beak. Shaking his head he followed.

"How many of these Americans are there?" asked Welkin while he folloed in the hallway.

It was uncomfortably warm outside his air conditioned room so he unbuttoned his field jacket a little; not as much as Faldio though. He was always pushing it with uniform regulations, something Varrot had to remind him at every second briefing.

"There are a significant number of them. Approximately two battalions, a brigade and a marine expeditionary unit whatever that is. I estimate the last about the size of a regiment," answered Faldio, quickly stepping to the side to allow a courier pushing a trolley of packages pass, "Two brigades altogether."

Welkin, almost walking into the trolley before his friend pulled him aside, was thinking aloud, "Compared to what the Empire is throwing at us, it doesn't seem like that much. Nonetheless, I'm glad we've got help. I hope at least some of us feel the same way I do."

Faldio agreed with a nod as he continued on. "The Empire already knew our order of battle, how well manned our units were and how many were operational before they struck. It'll be a bit of a shock when they learn of this – hopefully this will throw them and their strategy off balance."

"I'm sure we'll hear more about that later. Do you know much help the Militia will be getting?" Welkin asked as they stopped and knocked on the door of the Captain's office.

"Beats me, apparently Damon's been jumping up and down around the General Staff for a while now," answered Faldio lightly, leaning against the door, "If we do get help, for once I'll be grateful to him."

At that moment they heard Varrot beckoning them to enter. Faldio straightened up before pushing open the door. As they stepped in, they could see one side of the room lined with the other Militia Squad COs from 3rd Regiment. Opposite them stood an equal number of American officers from the Joint Strike Force. Standing next to Varrot stood one of them, a man with a tan beret under his left shoulder strap and captain's bars. As soon as Welkin and Faldio had saluted Varrot and the American next to her, the former called everyone to attention.

Once everything was settled, she started speaking, "As you may know, American personnel will be attached to all branches of the Gallian military including the Militia. Each Militia squad will be assigned an officer from the Joint Strike Force as an advisor and liaison and a pool of JSF combat and support specialists will be shared between every two squads. This is Captain Torres, he will tell you more."

The American stepped forward and addressed the room, "I'm Captain Javier Torres, 75th United States Army Ranger Regiment, Joint Strike Force. I will be in charge of all American personnel with the Gallian Militia of the 3rd Regiment."

He continued with a cursory introduction which everyone already knew by them, "Joint Strike Force personnel are derived from all branches of the United States Armed Forces and have undergone vigorous training and selection procedures in line with Special Operations Command to become what they are. The purpose of having us working together is to augment the capabilities of the Gallian military and to familiarise with each other's tactics, strategies and equipment. All of this is to improve interoperability of our forces in the future."

As he rambled on a bit more, Varrot and many of the others, Gallian and American, particularly the jaded ones noticed how stiff that speech of his sounded. It was almost like hearing a prepared speech. Torres was no politician though, he didn't like this song and dance routine either but it was necessary to get this done and out of the way. There was no mistaking that Torres was a warrior through and through. The tense muscles visible on his forearm and neck but well hidden under his Multicam uniform with the Ranger Tab sewn on was evidence enough. He had his hair cut short so it was difficult to tell its colour was black. Welkin and Varrot thought he looked like he could take on Largo, with a pretty good chance of winning too.

"If there are problems with the people you've been assigned please refer either one of us," said Varrot, she then began reading off the list of names of the Americans and then the squad they were assigned as well its commander.

As each name was called the American and the Gallian officer shook hands and were given a folder containing new orders by Torres before leaving the room. A few minutes later it was just Faldio and Welkin left as the Gallians but the only American left was a grey eyed woman with dark hair in a very short ponytail, curling up against the back of her head.

"I got dibs on that one. Who'll be the lucky one out of us?" whispered Faldio to Welkin.

"Huh?" Squad 7's commander was fixated on something else but Faldio couldn't see what it was, fortunately neither of the captains noticed Welkin's inattention. When he finally saw who his friend was referring to, Welkin asked, "Are you trying to set me up on a blind date?"

Faldio released a breath in exasperation, saying, "You're missing the point totally but unsurprisingly."

"2nd Lieutenant Avril Dolburn you're assigned to Squad 1, 2nd Lieutenant Faldio Landzaat is its commanding officer," announced Varrot.

"Lucky me," breathed Faldio under his breath to Welkin before stepping forward but before shaking hands with Avril he realised that there wasn't anyone left.

"Excuse me Captain but what about Lieutenant Gunther?" he asked to Varrot.

Varrot looked up at the remaining occupants in the room and then back down at the list again, "Oh I'm sorry about this but I've crossed off just about everyone here on the list, you'll have to wait until Captain Torres can arrange for someone else."

She suspected that Damon placed Squad 7 in a lower priority until Avril spoke up, "How about Lt Reyes? He's a friend and the last I checked on him he's ready to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow."

Despite the best efforts of Blaise to prevent his identity from being leaked to the rest of the Americans, word had evidently spread about Allen. Thankfully it was mostly a short lived rumour that only revived momentarily whenever a new batch of people stepped out of the MacMasters quarantine for the first time.

Torres pressed a finger into his cheek as he thought and said, "He's the last one from Captain Franks' team I remember and one of the first to make contact. Most of us have heard of him."

"I don't know, he was quite shaken up when I spoke to him. Though it's not really my place to comment I think he should be given something to do as soon as he's discharged." Varrot turned to Torres for his opinion.

The American captain's hand inched towards his tablet on the desk but

"So what's the verdict sir, ma'am?" asked Welkin hesitantly.

"I'll talk to Colonel Hanley and see if I can have him transferred," answered Torres with a shrug, "If not then it'll probably take at least a month to find someone else."

"Better than nothing I guess, well that's partly solved," said Faldio as he took his folder from Torres.

"We'll let you know if anything changes," concluded Varrot, "Alright you're dismissed."

Once Welkin, Faldio and Avril left the room Faldio turned on his charm and held out his hand, "I'm Faldio Landzaat, just Faldio will do."

"Well in that case, you will still have to refer to me as Lt Dolburn," she replied coolly and took the folder out of Faldio's other hand before shaking his offered hand.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face for a moment but he quickly regained his composure with a smile. So it's going to be tough he thought. Welkin noticed this too but declined to comment, knowing his friend's reputation.

"Seems that Squad 1 and 7 will be sharing four specialists together," she remarked as she flipped through its contents.

"Because we'll be working together and by that I don't just mean you and Squad 1 but also you and I. How about we get to know one another better first? We can do lunch." Faldio tried again.

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass on that, I need to get my things organised in my new quarters as quickly as possible before we need to get busy. I'm a fast eater too so I don't think we'll be able to talk much either," she retorted and turned on her heel and started to leave.

"The most conceited woman I've ever met," whispered Faldio, "At least I won't need to get her number."

"If you were looking for a productive and professional working relationship I'd say you're on the right track, but name the first animal that comes into your head and I'll analogise-"

"Ok I get the idea," snapped Faldio.

The next morning Allen Reyes was awoken by one of the medics.

"Good morning Lieutenant," she greeted cheerily while dropping off a bundle of clothes at the foot of his bed, "You need to go see Captain Torres as soon as you're discharged. Here's your uniform and I've been told to let you know that all your personal effects have been moved onto the base. He should have more info for you about that."

"Thanks Gina," said Allen; he'd familiarised himself a little with the triplets during his week of recovery.

"You got it wrong again," she said and rolled her eyes, "Anyway here's something for you to eat and you can freshen up by the wash basin. The doctor will be in here to formally discharge you soon. "

"Alright thank you and remember to thank your sisters on by behalf as well," he called as she left.

He looked at the tray next to his bed which held his breakfast. Despite his disdain for the culinary skills at JSF school, he found the hospital menu here surprisingly good. The cheese wasn't processed like the stuff in MREs; the vegetables were fresh, not quick frozen and microwaved while the bread was top notch.

Once he was done he went over to the sink and unzipped the pouch hanging below the wall mounted mirror. It was a Gallian military issue personal hygiene kit, consisting of toothpaste (active ingredients being derived from a mineral called ragnite), toothbrush and small mirror etcetera. Pulling out a razor Allen stared at it uncertainly. He really needed a shave but he was too used to using an electronic shaver. At that moment he noticed in the mirror, a Gallian guard leaning idly against the door, watching him.

Did they think he was going to off himself with the razor? Allen wondered, especially after the incident of the previous week. Ignoring the guy, he tentatively started with the stubble on his neck going upwards. It took near nine minutes but as he was working on his sideburns the tick under his right eye pulsed again.

"Dammit!" he swore under his breath as he washed the blood off the razor and tried again as the guard clucked his tongue, whether in disapproval or sympathy it was unclear.

By the time he'd finished with a few more minor scrapes and brushed his teeth there was a knock on the door. The guard opened it and left as the doctor came in followed by a uniformed black woman with curly brown hair which was secured in a bun.

"This is Staff Sergeant Lydia Harris. She's one of several medical liaisons from the Joint Strike Force," the doctor said curtly, "Please sit down Lieutenant. This is just a final check-up before we can discharge you."

As she followed the doctor in, Lydia said, "Pleasure to meet you Lieutenant, hope you're recovery was good." She offered him a hand to shake.

"I can't really complain," Allen replied with a forced smile as the doctor worked on him with his stethoscope.

As he raised his arm to accept the handshake, the doctor clamped over it with a manometer cuff. He winced as the strap tightened over his elbow. It seemed a little uncomfortably tight for a blood pressure reading. The doctor also seemed a little abrupt in his manner Allen noted.

"So what exactly are you doing here?" he asked Lydia.

"Oh, I'm just here to work alongside the doctors and nurses here at the hospital. The brass wanted to ensure that medical procedures for both the Gallian and US forces can work together in the event of emergencies. It's really huge all this stuff that's going on now that we're working together because all the other branches have their counterparts…"

"Alright," interrupted Allen. Her speech was quite fast. "Are you like a doctor?" he asked.

"Not really, I'm with the Air Force Pararescue. I joined just after getting nursing degree from John Hopkins. I really wanted a frontline position and my CO promised that just as we left the States but everything changed last week as you may know and here I am back at a hospital…"

Allen's mouth dropped open at that, the doctor took advantage of this to stick a paddle-pop stick onto his tongue and peer down his throat with a penlight.

While this was happening Allen thought that meant Lydia wasn't just a nurse, she also had the sheer determination to complete 'Superman School'. A gruelling training process for the Pararescue unit which the highest dropout rate of all the other US Special Operations training courses. That made her an elite combat paramedic, a 'PJ' as they were informally known and a superwoman at that. It certainly made his ordeal in JSF training seem like a light PT session.

The doctor finished and as he stripped off his gloves he said, "Ok, seems you're in good health. I'm authorised on behalf of the American medical staff to give you these pills. They are for any pain and they also come from your stocks. The instructions of the prescription should be clear and if there're any problems consult one of your doctors." He handed Allen a bottle.

Now he understood what Lydia was going on about and why the doctor was seemed almost bitter. With different procedures it would be difficult for Gallian and US medics to work together. Even the simple task for a doctor to prescribe drugs to a patient of the other country will require consultation with his/her counterpart.

He accepted the bottle and thanked the doctor as he left. Before Lydia left to follow she bade him goodbye.

"Maybe we'll run into each other again, hopefully without you as a patient," she said as she shut the door behind her.

Once she was gone Allen turned to his bundle of clothes: his uniform fatigues, black combat boots and fingerless gloves and beret with the JSF insignia flash which incorporated his rank as well. His left arm flared up painfully when he raised it to pull on his shirt; he took a pill to keep the pain down. As he fitted on his beret and then pocketed it carefully, he felt the bandages covering his neck a feature that would stick out like a sore thumb. Feeling human once again he opened the door so see the same grunt waiting outside.

"Follow me sir," he said, turning on his heel when Allen had shut the door behind him.

They walked in silence out of the hospital wing, Allen ignoring the curious stares from the staff and patients. Here and there was an American officer but they seemed too busy to notice him. The headquarters building was vast and Allen realised how easily he could get lost in this place. Finally they stopped at a door.

"Here you are Lieutenant," the Gallian soldier spoke abruptly before leaving Allen, a little puzzled about his almost rude manner.

Apprehensively he knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Pushing open the door Allen saw Captain Torres standing behind a desk untidily covered with papers. An aide was working on a scanner in the corner before Torres shooed him out.

"2nd Lieutenant Allen Reyes reporting in sir," said Allen, saluting once the door was shut.

The layout of the room also reflected the state of the JSF. Filing cabinets open and boxes lying on the ground and lots of documents stacked everywhere. The previous occupant had clearly left in a hurry. Torres returned Allen's salute while the door closed on them again, leaving them alone.

"Have a seat Lieutenant Reyes," he beckoned to a chair, "just dump those papers on the ground, I'm burning all these hardcopies once I've had them digitised and archived."

Allen shook the pile of documents off the offered chair and sat while Torres walked around the desk and sat on its edge.

"I'm Captain Torres, I'm in charge of all JSF personnel who are with the 3rd Regiment of the Gallian Militia. You know what this these sorts of assignments entail I'm sure. Interoperability and all that stuff they say back in JSF school," said Torres, waving a hand about like he was holding an invisible cigarette between his fingers, "In other words, how not to confuse each other for the enemy and how to work together to defeat said enemy."

The Captain paused a moment and waited for Allen to ask any questions, when there was none forthcoming, he shrugged and went on, "Colonel Hanley, your battalion CO agreed to transfer you to a role as our liaison and advisor to Squad 7 of the 3rd Regiment which is under 2nd Lieutenant Welkin Gunther. I'm not going to waste time talking about what happened to you that day. I've only received the dot points and General Blaise has spoken to you at length about it before so that's between you and him."

Allen didn't answer, somewhat glad that Torres wasn't going to talk about his last assignment which had gone disastrously bad. Sergeant Terry's passing

"Well Lieutenant, I know you and all of us have been briefed by the General on what the hell is going on. Can't say much has changed so let's not focus on why or how we're here. I'm sure there are just as many thinkers and scientists in this world as our own who can talk both your ears off if you give them a tilt at answering that. On the other hand I'm sure your generation has seen more than enough science fiction or browsed the internet to death or both to have your ideas."

Torres got up and walked up to a map of an unfamiliar continent on a corkboard. He was right to a degree; Allen had seen his fair share of sci-fi shows, novels, anime and manga and browsed the internet a lot but he kept his theories to himself while his new commanding officer continued to speak.

"You've heard that saying before about how the Army doesn't send you where you want or even where you're best suited for but sends you where you're needed." The Captain pointed straight onto the continent labelled as Europa. "And it seems all of us are needed here and all of us are needed for this war.

Allen had already seen this map before, recognised the borders for what they were but he'd only caught snippets of what exactly was going on. Blaise and everyone else who'd spoken to him had only given him hints of the events in progress.

"If I were to fill you in on the context of the region it'll take us the rest of the day. I'll tell you this much." Torres ripped the map off the corkboard and sat behind his desk while placing it on his desk to Allen could see.

"Here's the Principality of Gallia," said the Captain as he pointed to a small country shaded in blue on the north of the continent. "They were kind enough to offer us a new home provided we help them fight."

He pointed to the western half of the continent which was shaded in white. "Here's the Atlantic Federation, they resemble the Eurotrash that we'd been fighting and they're at war with the Autocratic East Europan Imperial Alliance."

Torres paused, observing Allen's cock of the head and added, "I'm serious. That's its official name. At least it doesn't pretend to claim it's democratic or anything like that."

He indicated the east of the continent in red with his third finger. "They're an autocratic alliance of states like I said. It looks like Czarist Russia with an Emperor as head of state. All you need to know now is that Gallia is being invaded by the Empire." Torres pulled another map off the stack of folders behind his seat and laid it on top of the one already on the desk. This one was of Gallia and the foreign territories on its borders. It already had pen marks to indicate the Imperial lines of advance into the country as well as a line indicating how much of the country had already been taken.

"Blaise and we have been asked to 'assist Gallian defensive operations in any way practical' which is our mandate to blow stuff up, namely Imperial forces and their allies," Torres concluded quickly and then crossed his arms, waiting for questions from Allen. "Anything more you want to learn about this world is to be done in your own time because I won't give you a history or geography lesson."

"Wait a sec, since we have no way of getting home how are we getting resupplied? I mean the Empire is huge, it doesn't look like we can take them on," spoke Allen after a moment of consideration, feeling that he should say something even though he didn't have any specific questions yet.

"I was just getting to that and you're right, we've only got what we brought with us. Transportation and logistics now have priority so they have the lion's share of the diesel and JP-8 for the time being. Because of that, we're down to the absolute minimum for air cover from the combat birds we've brought," Torres continued, tapping a finger on the desk blotter. "If the Gallians could help with the easier tasks we'll save a lot of time and resources but their logistics too are strained at best. That doesn't mean they won't try. We'll have to let their engineers to study our vehicle designs so we can adapt to the local fuel source."

Allen listened and rubbed at the corner of his eye before asking, "I thought they would were classified sir?"

"We're in a bad position Lieutenant. That's before we get into equipment and weapon incompatibility. Most of our kit is still being checked out at the quarantine so it's piecemeal for the time being. We may have to begin using locally produced stuff later once we've used everything down to the roll of toilet paper at MacMasters."

Allen's new commanding officer's face winced momentarily, he knew how bad it was hearing it from others and reading about it but passing the news on to others did nothing to lessen the impact on himself. Meanwhile, Allen felt his latest meal bubbling up in his stomach briefly while he listened.

"Now about the opposition, the Imperials are low tech by our standards so electronic strikes won't do jack against them," Torres recounted from another briefing, "And without satellite and Uplink assets our overall capability and range is reduced to say… 30-40%."

Allen leaned back, taking all of this in. He and the rest of the Force had set off on their mission, confident that they could deliver the killing blow to the enemy and hasten the end of the war. Now they were fighting a defensive war with poor odds and without support.

"Leave the bigger picture to the rest of us. That's what I've been told also," said Torres, also getting back into his chair and leaning on it. "I've ranted enough at you about where we stand. You're getting Squad 7 whether you like it or not. Lt Gunther has already had combat experience and from what I've heard, his unit is doing well."

Torres handed Allen a thick folder.

"The Squad is out fixing their gear and they'll be back after lunch. Make sure you read these and you also need to know the men and women behind the pages. If you do that you'll do just fine." I haven't met them either admittedly but I'll get around to them, squad by squad."

Allen sighed thinking there's no point in arguing further and glanced at the list on top of the folder and then Captain Varrot's name. "Do I report to both of you?"

"Yes, I made that clear earlier so don't forget that you'll answer to her as well," Torres replied, "Sergeant Melchiott is the most senior NCO if I recall correctly. It says so in the preface Lieutenant Gunther wrote." The Captain leaned forward and lifted up the front of the folder briefly to see if it was in there. "Yeah, the very first page you see."

"Understood sir." Allen hefted the folder and placed it under his arm while Torres clasped his hands together loudly and looked him in the eye. "Now you be good and do as the sergeant tells you. Learn from them and teach them how we do things as well."

"Do you understand that you will have a responsibility in leading the Squad as well? I want Squad 7 mobile when Varrot or I say 'move' and to jump when either of us give the word." Torres' eyes bore into Allen as they both stood up and the latter made ready to go.

"Understood sir."

"Good Lieutenant. I have a habit of keeping a shit list and I have a stronger habit of finding names for it. Don't give me a reason to pencil in your name there. You're dismissed Lieutenant Reyes."

The VIP modified Mi-55 Locust helicopter, banked and circled over Kbely Air Force Base. Once belonging to the Czech Air Force, Kbely AFB served as the primary forward base for Russian air operations in Western Europe. The helicopter and its occupants were escorted by a squadron of heavily armed and armoured Ka-65 Howler gunships and their older but still formidable cousins, Ka-52 Alligators.

On the vast runways two brigades of the Spetsnaz Guard Brigades the best fighting force in Russia, snapped to attention as the helicopter landed. Behind the elite soldiers were the vehicles and their crews; the most powerful hardware the world has ever seen in terms of armaments. Chief among them were the T-100 Ogre main battle tanks and the Zhukov double barrelled artillery. In addition to their fearsome array of weaponry, many of the Spetsnaz vehicles bristled with additional mounted weapons; anti-aircraft guns and flamethrowers being popular.

Flanking the Spetsnaz was two more brigades from the Russian army, many of them being light infantry and VDV paratroopers. The mechanised troops beside them, stood before their armoured carriers and infantry fighting vehicles. Further down were the tanks, self-propelled guns, rocket and anti-aircraft artillery. Stored inside the hangers behind the tarmac were dozens of helicopters and fixed wing aircraft. Besides the airlifters and tankers, one the most vital components of the aviation regiment stationed at Kbley was the A-50 AEWC aircraft. After that were combat aircraft made by Mikoyan and Sukhoi including the squadron of Su-38 Slamhound strike fighters and a flight of Su-41 Firefox stealth jets, a joint Indo-Russian development. Altogether it was a mix of old and new systems, most of the former dating back before the 2008 Baltic War and the following Second Russian Civil War.

Prince Maximilian remained composed as he looked out the window of the helicopter at the display which was evidently meant to impress and intimidate. The main concern he had now was whether to share this discovery with his father, the Emperor and the rest of the Empire. The rest of his generals for the Gallian campaign, consisting of Major General Berthold Gregor, Brigadier General Selveria Bles and Major General Jaeger couldn't help but sense the dilemma playing out in the Prince as he turned his eyes back to them coldly.

"I'm still uncertain about including him in on our briefings. His insistence on being treated as an equal and our reluctance nearly got General Jaeger killed," Gregor spoke up while Jaeger couldn't help but smirk at this coming from his rival.

For once Selveria had to agree whole heartedly with the eldest of them all, saying, "I must concur with General Gregor on this matter your Grace. To think that the he would dictate terms-"

She was silenced by a lofty tilt of the head from Maximilian, who said, "I must admit that Major General Bronislav Lukin's audacity is refreshing from all accounts. In fact I am looking forward to this meeting."

"Well Brody as he likes to be called is an interesting fellow," said Jaeger, leaning back in his seat, "He's amiable enough and a good salesman but I haven't haggled with him long enough to get a full picture." At this point, he contemplatively crossed his arms and said, "On the other hand I don't think he was bluffing when he stated his preparedness to get his point across by force so to speak."

He was the first to personally meet the Russian general during preliminary negotiations. Contact was made just as FOB Lujbaton was half razed by the Spetsnaz choppers and a stand down order was issued immediately by their commanding officer. In the confusion, Maximilian was sequestered at Ghirlandaio and was quickly joined by Selvaria on the grounds of his safety. The Prince however was quietly displeased that Selvaria chose not to stay at her post, the invasion's eastern front which was the closest to this new crisis. Jaeger instead hurried to the eastern border after regrouping most of the Imperial forces in the southern front after the loss of FOB Kloden. Temporarily taking command of Selvaria's forces, he set out to confront this unknown force. Contact was made peacefully with the interlopers before Jaeger radioed Maximilian back at Ghirlandaio who authorised him to act as his emissary until proper negotiations could begin. When Jaeger was unable to report back for a while, his adjutant who wasn't involved, noted to Maximilian that the standoff had gotten tense while Jaeger treated with the newcomers. At one point, the soldiers on both sides had their safeties off before they were stood down. Hours later, both sides withdrew their forces and Jaeger headed immediately to Ghirlandaio to report back to Maximilian in person.

The helicopter finally landed in front of the assembled troops and the crew ran out to open the doors. First to alight were the bodyguards for the Imperial delegation, spec ops soldiers loyal only to Maximilian. He and Drei Stern alighted when their troops had fanned out in a protective screen in front of the helicopter. Before them were two columns of Wolves, elite light infantry of the Spetsnaz Guards, kitted out in full combat gear like their Imperial counterparts opposite. The impromptu Russian honour guard remained motionless while Maximilian glanced about slowly, trying not to look too concerned at the absence of anyone else to greet him. Selvaria, Gregor and Jaeger though were on edge, standing just far enough apart to go for their pistol holsters unhindered. No one spoke or moved until the pilot from the helicopter arrived, walking behind and around the Imperials and stopping in between the Russian and Imperial troops. As he walked, he removed his flight helmet, running a hand through his black hair to straighten it out a little. It was then that Jaeger relaxed and chuckled a little after noticing the pilot's name and rank insignia on his fatigues. After pocketing his sunglasses and putting on his field cap, the pilot saluted.

"Welcome Prince Maximilian your highness, it's a true pleasure and honour to have you and your most trusted generals as our guests today," said General Lukin after Maximilian acknowledged his salute with a nod.

"I see they were right, General Lukin, when they said you were an interesting man," answered Maximilian, who remained straight faced while the Drei Stern except Jaeger stiffened in shock.

"As for what my newest friend, General Jaeger has inferred from our chat; you have nothing to fear from me, I had assured him myself before we parted," continued Lukin, catching Jaeger's eye over Maximilian's shoulder and nodding, "But enough of standing here, you'll want to stretch your legs I'm sure. Come and join me in inspecting the men and women at our command. The time for talk can come later."

"So he was listening to us while we were inside the helicopter, how unconventional of him. He'll be very good for what I've got in mind, though we should have him on a short leash," thought Maximilian, following along with the Drei Stern and bodyguards in tow.