Harsh Realities: Deep & Dark
2021-08-01, circa 22:34 Miyana International Time
ʻAshtart pulled the hood of the dark blue poncho they were wearing down as they stepped into the temporary shelter, hastily but effectively enough assembled here on the outskirts of the nearly coastal Rossian village. A number of people, a mix of Rossians and Toonelans, were huddled inside the cavernous hall which was nearly the entirety of the structure. Many looked with fear to the doorway every time someone entered. ‘Ashtart could not blame them. Initial fighting with frantic Rossian patriots who were alarmed at the Toonelans invitation into the village, undertaken in the dead of night by meeting their host, left most suspicious. Only those few Rossians willing to stand out front and vouch for them, most of them refugees who had been picked up from the capital, and the clear and current inability of the Rossian Armed Forces to quickly prevent the landing here, had brokered this checkered calm in which the Toonelan mission could proceed. A young Rossian woman with dirty blond hair finally made herself known when she stood up, and ‘Ashtart gestured for her to speak with them in the small room at the far back of the shelter. All that was there was a cabinet for medicines, a couple boxes of supplies shoved into a corner, and two holding chairs facing one another.
‘Ashtart: Let us sit a moment. I have news.
Khioniya: What is it? Have your people found more of those who fled?
‘Ashtart: No. I am afraid there is little we can do for your neighbors who did not choose to stay, except hope that they are safe.
Khioniya: Then what is it?
‘Ashtart: My people’s ships are leaving, Khioniya. Or, have left, I should say.
‘Ashtart had been doing something similar to this for too long not to notice the signs. As Khioniya jumped to her feet, mouth beginning to gap in horror, their eyes narrowed as they lunged forward and firmly placed a hand over the young woman’s mouth. The scream that would have emerged quickly transformed into muffled sobbing, and ‘Ashtart reluctantly pulled the shorter Rossian into a hug, tucking her head into their shoulder.
‘Ashtart: I am so sorry, but we cannot have a panic. You know this.
The only response from Khioniya was a jerk of the head that was more shudder than nod.
‘Ashtart: There was an emergency. An ally of our people, your people, under attack off the coast. Bodo had to leave most of the transports behind without enough crew to be operable if the fleet was going to make good speed.
The Rossian’s tears were mixing with angry cursing to spirits that ‘Ashtart recognized the names of. They pulled Khioniya tighter into the embrace, afraid she would push away soon.
‘Ashtart: Khioniya . . . Khioniya, please, these people here will need your words, your help, too much in the coming hours. I need your help, Khioniya. We are not defenseless. They left behind two destroyers not yet out of ammunition. Friendly ships still fly overhead. If we have to retreat to the beach for a few hours, they will protect us. But let it not come to that! Remember why you asked us here? Your brother, the one who died of the scarred lungs from the mines he was forced to work in? Your husband, drafted into this terrible war he did not want to join? You need only be patient a little while longer . . .
A renewed screamed into their chest was followed this time by a flailing arm smashing into their abdomen. It might have taken the wind out of someone less sturdy or less expectant and while ‘Ashtart was neither, they were still surprised at the strength. The young woman immediately deflated and hugged them tighter.
The Rossian pulled her head free of the embrace and propped it up on the Toonelan’s shoulder, eyes puffy and red, a mix of frustration and sadness on her face, turned away from ‘Ashtart’s gaze.
Khioniya: I am so tired of being patient.
‘Ashtart: . . . I know, Khinoiya. They will be back. We need only wait out the dark.
----------
Fleet Admiral Bodo sits in a chair aboard the lower bride of the 1st Imperial Defense Fleet’s aircraft carrier flagship IDN Baal , eyes locked on a display screen as they speak steadily into a microphone carrying their instructions to the entire fleet’s bridges.
Bodo: Three hours. Three hours, nearly four, that the Leysans have been left to fend for themselves against a fleet that shouldn’t have taken any of us by surprise. The 1st Airship Group and the Stratospheric Fleets are already underway to their last known location. Took them far less time to break off detachments to attempt to hold the shelters. We’ve barely begun the journey.
Bodo paused for a moment to let the implications sink in for the ship captains under their command.
Bodo: But it’s not a long journey. We extracted ourselves as we did so we didn’t alert whatever hawks the Rossians still have roaming about hoping to kill Toonelan volunteers and their own civilians. I’m proud of you, but now isn’t the time to be proud. It’s two hours until midnight and this fleet, not one of us, has seen ship-to-ship combat. We don’t have a good enough estimation of the enemy’s fleet composition to know for sure this’ll be a fair fight, even with air support. We can only assume that the Republicans will take longer to disengage from their invasion’s far more invested landing sites. I can’t personally tell you that the Courellians holed up in their base in Goncar will even bother to come out if they detect fighting.
A few chuckles ran through the bridge at the last line.
Bodo: You’ve all been briefed by now. You know what’s about to happen. The first Imperial naval fleet to fire its guns in anger in over a century will do so not long from now, rushing forward into a surprise night action, hoping to save its allies by relying on superior detection, engagement range, and air superiority. Relying on each other to have taken enough stimulants to stay awake at the displays. Regardless of if we succeed or fail, all of the Union’s eyes will be on our dear Toonela, for better or for worse. And I don’t know about you, my friends, but I’d not only like it to be for the better, I’d like those damn Leysans to owe us a favor for once.
They paused once more, summoning the resolve to say two words they had truthfully believed mere hours ago wouldn’t be necessary.
Bodo: Battle stations, people.
(This post was last modified: 08-03-2021, 02:17 PM by wateryfoothill.)
2021-08-01, circa 22:34 Miyana International Time
ʻAshtart pulled the hood of the dark blue poncho they were wearing down as they stepped into the temporary shelter, hastily but effectively enough assembled here on the outskirts of the nearly coastal Rossian village. A number of people, a mix of Rossians and Toonelans, were huddled inside the cavernous hall which was nearly the entirety of the structure. Many looked with fear to the doorway every time someone entered. ‘Ashtart could not blame them. Initial fighting with frantic Rossian patriots who were alarmed at the Toonelans invitation into the village, undertaken in the dead of night by meeting their host, left most suspicious. Only those few Rossians willing to stand out front and vouch for them, most of them refugees who had been picked up from the capital, and the clear and current inability of the Rossian Armed Forces to quickly prevent the landing here, had brokered this checkered calm in which the Toonelan mission could proceed. A young Rossian woman with dirty blond hair finally made herself known when she stood up, and ‘Ashtart gestured for her to speak with them in the small room at the far back of the shelter. All that was there was a cabinet for medicines, a couple boxes of supplies shoved into a corner, and two holding chairs facing one another.
‘Ashtart: Let us sit a moment. I have news.
Khioniya: What is it? Have your people found more of those who fled?
‘Ashtart: No. I am afraid there is little we can do for your neighbors who did not choose to stay, except hope that they are safe.
Khioniya: Then what is it?
‘Ashtart: My people’s ships are leaving, Khioniya. Or, have left, I should say.
‘Ashtart had been doing something similar to this for too long not to notice the signs. As Khioniya jumped to her feet, mouth beginning to gap in horror, their eyes narrowed as they lunged forward and firmly placed a hand over the young woman’s mouth. The scream that would have emerged quickly transformed into muffled sobbing, and ‘Ashtart reluctantly pulled the shorter Rossian into a hug, tucking her head into their shoulder.
‘Ashtart: I am so sorry, but we cannot have a panic. You know this.
The only response from Khioniya was a jerk of the head that was more shudder than nod.
‘Ashtart: There was an emergency. An ally of our people, your people, under attack off the coast. Bodo had to leave most of the transports behind without enough crew to be operable if the fleet was going to make good speed.
The Rossian’s tears were mixing with angry cursing to spirits that ‘Ashtart recognized the names of. They pulled Khioniya tighter into the embrace, afraid she would push away soon.
‘Ashtart: Khioniya . . . Khioniya, please, these people here will need your words, your help, too much in the coming hours. I need your help, Khioniya. We are not defenseless. They left behind two destroyers not yet out of ammunition. Friendly ships still fly overhead. If we have to retreat to the beach for a few hours, they will protect us. But let it not come to that! Remember why you asked us here? Your brother, the one who died of the scarred lungs from the mines he was forced to work in? Your husband, drafted into this terrible war he did not want to join? You need only be patient a little while longer . . .
A renewed screamed into their chest was followed this time by a flailing arm smashing into their abdomen. It might have taken the wind out of someone less sturdy or less expectant and while ‘Ashtart was neither, they were still surprised at the strength. The young woman immediately deflated and hugged them tighter.
The Rossian pulled her head free of the embrace and propped it up on the Toonelan’s shoulder, eyes puffy and red, a mix of frustration and sadness on her face, turned away from ‘Ashtart’s gaze.
Khioniya: I am so tired of being patient.
‘Ashtart: . . . I know, Khinoiya. They will be back. We need only wait out the dark.
----------
Fleet Admiral Bodo sits in a chair aboard the lower bride of the 1st Imperial Defense Fleet’s aircraft carrier flagship IDN Baal , eyes locked on a display screen as they speak steadily into a microphone carrying their instructions to the entire fleet’s bridges.
Bodo: Three hours. Three hours, nearly four, that the Leysans have been left to fend for themselves against a fleet that shouldn’t have taken any of us by surprise. The 1st Airship Group and the Stratospheric Fleets are already underway to their last known location. Took them far less time to break off detachments to attempt to hold the shelters. We’ve barely begun the journey.
Bodo paused for a moment to let the implications sink in for the ship captains under their command.
Bodo: But it’s not a long journey. We extracted ourselves as we did so we didn’t alert whatever hawks the Rossians still have roaming about hoping to kill Toonelan volunteers and their own civilians. I’m proud of you, but now isn’t the time to be proud. It’s two hours until midnight and this fleet, not one of us, has seen ship-to-ship combat. We don’t have a good enough estimation of the enemy’s fleet composition to know for sure this’ll be a fair fight, even with air support. We can only assume that the Republicans will take longer to disengage from their invasion’s far more invested landing sites. I can’t personally tell you that the Courellians holed up in their base in Goncar will even bother to come out if they detect fighting.
A few chuckles ran through the bridge at the last line.
Bodo: You’ve all been briefed by now. You know what’s about to happen. The first Imperial naval fleet to fire its guns in anger in over a century will do so not long from now, rushing forward into a surprise night action, hoping to save its allies by relying on superior detection, engagement range, and air superiority. Relying on each other to have taken enough stimulants to stay awake at the displays. Regardless of if we succeed or fail, all of the Union’s eyes will be on our dear Toonela, for better or for worse. And I don’t know about you, my friends, but I’d not only like it to be for the better, I’d like those damn Leysans to owe us a favor for once.
They paused once more, summoning the resolve to say two words they had truthfully believed mere hours ago wouldn’t be necessary.
Bodo: Battle stations, people.
