Announcement

**WTE_OzWolf** · March 11, 2002, 05:59

...Continued...

The Russian army had been marching non-stop for eight days in an attempt to reach Chicago and wrest it back from the citizens now in control of it. General Vladimere Murishka was nearly asleep in his saddle as the army continued to plod through the darkness of night. Vladimere was brought to full awareness, though, by the sudden curse of his second-in-command.

“By all gods…” He cursed.

Vladimere looked up. There, at the top of the hill in front of them, was a near-endless row of shadows, interspersed with lit torches.

“Who are they?” He asked.

“Don’t know sir.” His 2IC replied. “We’re currently awaiting a report from our forward scouts.”

Even as he said it, a runner came sprinting up.

“Sirs, they are American pikemen.” The runner reported. “Our scouts report one battalions worth.”

“Really?” Vladimere said, the thought of an easy victory passing through his head. “That will be all.”

“Sir.” Interrupted the runner. “The scout also reported that the American leader issued a decree: ‘All Russian soldiers are hereby judged guilty of crimes against America. All who do not surrender immediately will be crushed without mercy.’”

Vladimere laughed out loud.

“He has one battalion of pikemen. I have six divisions of her majesty’s finest shock troops.” Vladimere said. “Tell this upstart American that it is he who will be crushed.”

The runner ran forward to the front of the army to deliver his message.

“Colonel, prepare to attack.” He ordered. “Immediately.”

Quickly, the Russian army arranged itself then began the trek up the hill towards the Americans. The enemy pikemen did not move. Vladimere looked on bewildered.

Suddenly, the sky was lit with dozens of catapult shot that rained down on the advancing Russian army. The slope insured that the shots hit and rolled onwards. Matching the suddenness of the catapult attack, the number of pikemen doubled and the sky was full of tracers as lit arrows ploughed into the Russian ranks.

Crying out, Vladimere charged to the front and the Russians ran the last piece of distance to the American army. Battle was entered.

-----------

The battle was fierce. Charles lost count of the amount of people’s blood he spilled. With the Russian swordsmen amongst the American ranks, death quickly followed. Only superior numbers ensured that the Americans could win. The American catapults continued to drop shot onto the Russian archers who had held back.

When the battle was over, Charles stood atop the hill overlooking the carnage of the battlefield. Somewhere amongst the dead Russians was the body of its army’s leader. But he wasn’t worried about the Russians.

A quick muster had revealed that he had only four of his original twelve battalions remaining. One pikemen, one longbowmen and two catapult battalions. And to make matters worse, his pikemen and longbowmen were wounded and severely injured. He had no choice.

“Order the return to Chicago.” He said. “Send one messenger to Washington City. Let Lincoln know what has happened here. Let him know that his people are ready to fight.”

-----------

Lincoln couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Not only had the citizens of Chicago managed to retake their city and provide defences for it but they had raised an army and intercepted the Russian army sent to retake the city. The only downside was the cost of life. Close to ten battalions lost in the battle. But the raid may have just given America the breathing space it needed.

Early reports suggested the loss of her troops had stung Catherine. The troops surrounding New York had been moved back to less aggressive positions. Miami and San Francisco were still in revolt.

And the news he had received just this morning from his foreign affairs office capped off a day he never thought would arrive. The Greeks had agreed to trade their surplus horses in exchange for incense. With this, the Americans were now producing its first mounted unit: the knight. This armoured behemoth would crush the Russian horsemen. Defenders would be powerless and the dreaded pikemen would become something to fear less.

Philadelphia, Boston, Salamanca and New York had produced the armour. Soon, the American army would be ready to counter-attack the Russians in a way that they had never encountered. He turned to his advisors.

“This calls for a celebration.” He said, directing maids to pour wine into the goblets along the long table. He raised his glass. “To redemption.”

“To redemption!” His advisors chorused.

-----------
Redemption
-----------

“This is intolerable!!!” Screamed Catherine as she knocked the counters off the tactical map. “Three cities in three months!”

She spun on her military advisor.

“What is happening?!?” She demanded.

“It’s their new mounted unit, milady.” The military advisor responded. “We have never encountered anything like it, let alone in the numbers we’re encountering.”

“I don’t care!” Retorted Catherine. “What are you doing about it? Why don’t we have the capability to train these units?”

“Our scientists are on the verge of discovering this capability…” stammered the advisor.

“On the verge?!?” Growled Catherine. “While your much vaunted scientists are ‘on the verge’, they’re taking my cities! What about stopping the Greeks exporting their horses?”

“We can’t pressure the Greeks anymore, milady.” The foreign minister spoke up. “We managed to stop them doing it for two hundred years. If we push threats such as piracy on them anymore, the Greeks are likely to declare war on us as well.”

“What about the Germans then?” Catherine asked. “They don’t like the Greeks.”

“Bismark just laughs at our requests.” The foreign minister said. “He blames your ancestor for the loss of two of his nation’s cities on the Greek continent during the Greek – German War. Your ancestor wouldn’t even trade the Germans the resources needed. So, he declares he will not help the Russian people.”

Catherine sighed angrily.

“The English or the French?” She asked.

“The English have trade deals with the Americans.” Replied the foreign minister. “And the French aren’t advanced enough to send ships across the oceans.”

“I’m not even going to ask about the Aztecs.” Catherine said. “I already know they have the same feeling for us as they did over 700 years ago during the Aztec Incursion.”

“Milady, I recommend we bolster our defences and wait for an opportunity to strike.” Suggested the military advisor. “Your ancestor did it last time and she successfully crushed the American offensive ability with it.”

“Not until she had nearly lost the country.” Retorted Catherine. “But I think you’re right. I want extra defensive units moved towards the cities on the American – Russian Border.”

“As you command ma’am.” The advisors said and left. Catherine growled as she studied the map.

-----------

Covered in blood, Charles Smith lifted the American flag above his head as he stood on the balcony of Seattle’s Government House. As the newest General in the American army, Charles had led his newly reinforced Chicago army against the defending forces of Seattle. But the Russians had gone turtle. His army had suffered severe losses and it was only the new knight battalions that got them the city.

Charles admired the powerful knights. Like an unstoppable wave, they had charged through the streets of Seattle, killing any defender in their way. The citizenry helped as well. They revolted as soon as the first catapult shots began falling upon the walls of Seattle. Charles turned to his second-in-command.

“Colonel, make sure we have double sentries on the walls.” He said. “I want four hour watches. Everyone else can stand down when not on watch. Also, send a messenger to the King informing him of our victory.”

Charles walked out of Government House and basked in the delirious celebrations of the population. The streets were alive with the sound of music and happy people. He accepted the congratulations and thanks from people. He could understand exactly how they felt. Chicago had only been occupied for a decade. Seattle had been occupied for a total of one hundred and fifty years on two separate occasions and finally, they were once again part of the American nation.

Rather than taking part in the celebrations, Charles returned to the barracks and instantly fell asleep, happy in the knowledge that the American Kingdom was returning to its former prominence.

-----------

General Serenoff was terrified. His attack on Seattle was failing well before he’d expected to even encounter enemy resistance. And that was scary enough. What made it terrifying was the method that the defence was happening. Men around him were falling down from unseen projectiles.

And there was a smoke haze above Seattle, yet his army hadn’t even fired a shot on the city. He physically flinched when another group of his men fell. His army was in disarray. His men lay dead around him, but he dare not return to Moscow without even getting a shot at Seattle.

“Catapults! Open fire!” He called. “Men! Charge!!!”

With a yell, the Russian troops charged towards Seattle. Soldiers fell in droves. As the Russians neared the gates, two battalions of knights poured from the city and charged the decimated Russians. The Russian horseman retreated before the oncoming knights but the swordsmen and pikemen did not stand a chance.

Serenoff retreated with his troops. All through the night they rode until they reached Russian territory. Only after they had stopped and rested did the American knights catch them up. Serenoff died in his sleep.

And like assassins in the night, fifteen American battalions of troops slipped through the darkness into Russian territory.

-----------

Lincoln looked at his tactical map. He couldn’t stop looking at it. He just couldn’t believe it. The American treasury was literally empty, but the result of this was an army of near-invincible knights and the discovery of gunpowder.

Smolensk, Odessa and Kiev were once again under American control. The Russians were on the back foot and a century of Russian oppression of America was over. Catherine was panicking. She was sending conscripted warriors against fortified cities. She was trying to intercept large armies with under-trained troops rather than fortifying them in her cities. And the initial invasion had caught a number of her battalions out of their cities.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come.” Called Lincoln.

Lincoln’s foreign and military advisors came in together, both out of breathe. Lincoln felt his stomach turn. He worried when both turned up together.

“Sire!” The foreign advisor was literally bursting. “The Aztecs have declared war on the Russians!”

Lincoln dropped his goblet out of shock.

“Did you say the Aztecs are at war with the Russians?” He asked, disbelief in his voice.

The military advisor nodded.

“Yes sire.” He said. “Our envoys report that the Russian cities of Cattaraugus and Minsk have fallen to Aztec troops. They also have an army marching on St. Petersburg.”

Lincoln sat in shock. That basically left one city. One city. One Russian city. He doubted the Aztecs were attacking because of any compassion for America but to meet their own gains, but one never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

“What can we muster to attack Moscow?” Lincoln asked.

“We currently have six knight battalions, five swordsmen battalions, three longbow battalions and one catapult battalion at Odessa.” The military advisor stated.

“Send them.” Lincoln said. “I want Moscow and in particular, I want Catherine.”

-----------

The sound of fighting was close. Catherine had no idea exactly where, because the buildings of Moscow made the sound echo. By the frantic sounds of the troops running past beneath her window suggested that it wasn’t going well.

St. Petersburg had fallen three days ago to the Aztecs and Catherine knew it would only be a matter of time before the Americans would be at Moscow’s gates. How it got to this, she knew. Russia had been too aggressive. Too self-centered. It was in the Russian psyche. They had refused to help the Iroquois, their allies, when they were under attack from the Americans. They literally ignored the Aztecs, especially after they had attacked Minsk and it had cost the Russians five technologies and 500 gold to retrieve the city. And the German requests were refused. Russia had no friends. Catherine doubted anybody would mourn the fall of the Russian Empire. Enemies rarely did.

The footsteps outside Catherine’s window were running in the opposite direction now and were being closely followed by the heavy fall of hooves. She looked out the window and caught a glimpse of the much-vaunted American knight and even she was impressed by the armoured juggernaught that pursued her conscripted warriors.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside her room. They grew louder until eventually the door was forced open. In the doorway stood a bristling American swordsman. He took three steps towards her, and then using the hand holding his sword, he knocked her out.

As blackness engulfed her, she was thankful none of her ancestors could witness this downfall.

-----------

Catherine’s vision swam back into view and the first thing she saw was Lincoln, King of the Americans. She tried to smile in contempt, but her split lip hurt too much. Lincoln paced back and forth.

“Catherine,” he began, “Queen of the Russians.”

“At your service.” She mocked.

Lincoln sighed and stopped pacing. He leant in close to Catherine’s face.

“You and your ancestors have caused my nation a great deal of pain.” He said, his voice quiet and even, which scared Catherine more than she thought it would. “When my ancestor defeated the Iroquois, we were gracious to a fallen foe. The Iroquois were welcomed and Hiawatha was retired in peace to his home city.”

“So,” Catherine said, still with contempt, “can I choose to live here in Washington City? That’s where I presume I am?”

Lincoln laughed out loud.

“No, Catherine.” Lincoln said. “Can’t you recognize one of your own cells? And as for retirement, your only retirement will be at the end of a rope. Your nation is divided between two others. Your troops are dead. Your people have lost their spirit. And your family’s leadership has many crimes to pay for.”

Catherine felt a lump form in her stomach.

“Tomorrow,” described Lincoln, “you will be hung in your own public square. You will then be quartered and your limbs sent to the parts of Russia we control. Your head will return to Washington City where my people will have proof that the Russian threat is over and the diplomats from around the world will be able to see what happens to people that treat the American people, my people, wrongly.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Catherine spluttered.

“I would.” Lincoln said, before straightening. “Catherine, Queen of the Russian, I hereby pronounce you guilty of heinous crimes against the people of the American Kingdom. Your punishment is death by hanging to be carried out at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. May god have mercy on your soul.”

Lincoln left the cell feeling sick to the stomach. He didn’t enjoy doing this, but it had to be done. As his ancestor, Washington III, once said: “When in a difficult position, somebody has to make the difficult decision.”

Stepping out into the streets of Moscow, Lincoln mumbled.

“And then there were only two.”

“Sorry sir?” His foreign advisor asked.

“Nothing.” Lincoln said. “Come, let us go to St. Petersburg. Montezuma and myself have to decide how to run our continent.”

**steelehc** · March 11, 2002, 06:17

This is even better then the first part. You have a very strong talent for this. Keep at it.

Steele

**Tarquinius** · March 11, 2002, 12:47

Very good stories,
Keep up the good work

**Sovy Kurosei** · March 11, 2002, 17:26

Ten bucks says the Germans pick a fight with you

Great story, nevertheless!

**civman2000** · March 11, 2002, 17:57

Very nice...
Tip: Put everything on one thread

**WTE_OzWolf** · March 12, 2002, 05:08

Generation - Episode 3: Friends and Enemies

King Lincoln VII died before ever reaching St. Petersburg. The unexpected attack from Montezuma's forces easily accounted for Lincoln's guard. The Aztec army then marched onwards into American-controlled Russia. Their first target was the expeditionary force of American soldiers camped outside Odessa. Not expecting a battle, they proved easy pickings for the Aztec knights...as did the city of Odessa.

------------

King Washington XIII stood in the throne room of the palace in Washington City. He still mourned his father's death and at age 24, he now ruled a country that had not seen peace for over five hundred years.

"Was there any provocation?" He asked his military advisor.

"None sire." The advisor replied. "Our soldiers were resting before returning to Seattle and Chicago. None of us expected the Aztecs to continue fighting."

"What about General Charles Smith?" Asked Washington.

"I'm afraid he perished, sire." The advisor said, obviously distraught about it. Charles Smith had been one of America's greatest Generals. He had nearly single handedly saved Washington from being invaded during the Continental War. Washington sighed his resignation.

"Have the Aztecs issued any decree?" Washington inquired.

"None." The advisor said. "But I think their motives are quite clear."

"It doesn't help that we've lost the advantage we had over the Russians." Washington said.

"Not all of the advantage sire." The military advisor corrected. "We had no idea where in their development the Aztecs were up to, but we do know that they still don't have gunpowder."

Washington looked curious.

"Then how did we lose Odessa?" He asked.

"Quite simple, sire." The military advisor replied. "We didn't have musketmen in Odessa. We only had pikemen. As we speak, musketmen battalions are being rushed forward to our exposed cities. The Aztecs will find it harder."

"Regardless, we need to strike back." Washington said. "This kind of treachery cannot go unpunished."

Washington paced.

"We now have the biggest land holdings in the world." He described. "We also now have the richest population and the largest population. We have access to horses, iron and saltpeter. We have incense, silks and gems to trade."

He stopped and looked at his advisors.

"We have defeated two countries in the last five hundred years." He explained. "One of them bigger than ourselves. But the greed of the other leaders makes them see us as a 'land of opportunity' for them to take what they want. Instead, they should at least respect us, if not fear us, for what we have achieved."

Washington sighed.

"No," he continued, "we need to fight the Aztecs. If we sue for peace, it'll be open season for everybody else. It looks like the only way we can have peace in our cities is to take the continent for ourselves."

------------

Montezuma looked out over the plains towards Smolensk. He did not like staying back in his capital, rather preferring to be out and about in his Imperium. The battle over Smolensk had raged for two weeks. The air hung thick with smoke, both gunpowder and from fires.

The capture of Odessa had proved easy. However, the Americans had moved battalions of their infernal musketmen into their forward cities and it was nearly impossible to penetrate them. Three times his troops had reached the city itself before being thrown back. Once, two battalions of American knights had rode out and attacked his army outside the gates.

"Do we have any army to march towards their city of Seattle?" He asked as nearby general.

"We do, Leader Montezuma." The general responded. "The army should be passing close to us soon."

"Divert them to here." He ordered. "I want this city. I do not intend to set up a city in the middle of American occupied territory."

"As ordered." The general said, quickly bowing and moving away.

Montezuma looked back towards Smolensk and tried to determine how to take a continent that was his peoples by birthright.

------------

General Joshua Harrison's army, consisting of knights, musketmen, longbowmen and catapults had made the long trek from New York up along the north coast. The plan was to follow the north coast and begin the capture of Aztec cities along it.

As they were riding into Kiev, he received word that his troops were to marshall at the barracks and be prepared to receive new equipment and a crash course in how to use it. Joshua was curious. Anything that gave them an edge over their opponents was always a bonus.

Upon reaching the barracks, Joshua ensured his troops were comfortable before contacting the local garrison commander and finding out what he could.

"Your knights and catapults are being upgraded." The garrison commander informed him, as if talking about a simple task. "For your knights, the horses will lose some of their armour and your riders will be given muskets."

Joshua tried not to choke on the water he was drinking.

"Muskets?" He asked incredulously. "We can't mount muskets on the horses. It takes a walking man to be able to carry them."

"Our scientists have developed a smaller, more light weight musket." Replied the commander. "Fires the same size shot as the original musket, but can be carried like a small spear."

"And what of our catapults?" He inquired.

"The catapults are being scrapped." The commander reported. "You are now the proud recipient of the first battalions of American cannons."

Joshua looked thoughtful as he played the word cannon around in his head.

"Think of a musket," described the commander, "but with the ability to punch a man-sized hole in a city wall."

Joshua had to really think about that. It was unbelievable.

"How?" He asked.

"Apparently it's the same principle as the musket, just on a bigger scale." The commander said. "Either way, you have a month to get your appropriate troops trained up."

"Then our orders haven't changed?" Joshua asked.

"No General." Replied the commander. "You will still be marching onto the Aztec Imperium in a month's time."

Joshua nodded and departed.

------------

Tento strode throughout his troops, directing them. The American army that had appeared at Xochicalco's doorstep was unexpected but he was confident of being able to hold them. But the Americans carried weaponry never seen before. He had not seen a single catapult or knight amongst their number.

The attempted charge by his knights to drive the Americans back had been answered with a withering fire of muskets from the tree line. He had immediately entrenched his troops and ordered the wounded knight battalions to report to the medics. He needed every troop available to defend the city.

Tento hit the dirt as a loud boom revibrated the air and a whistling sound got louder. With a thundering crash and explosion, the cannon shot smashed into the wall behind him, stinging his skin with shattered masonry.

His surviving catapults answered in kind, but they lacked the range or firepower to be effective. The only ranged troops he had were his longbowmen and they were picked off by raiding musket-carrying horsemen before they could even establish a firing position. Pikemen were only good against horses if the horses got close. These musket-carrying horsemen didn't need to. Pikes don't stop musket shot.

Tento was finding out first-hand the devastating ability of the new age of warfare and he realised that his nation was grossly under-developed compared to their southern neighbours. Not for the first time, he wondered at the choice made by Montezuma to attack the Americans.

Sure, the Aztecs had captured Odessa, but at what cost? Thousands of Aztec troops lay dead at the walls of Smolensk and more American troops poured towards the front. Montezuma declared that owning the continent was their divine right, but Tento wondered if his leader wasn't mad. He didn't ponder this out-loud though, otherwise he would have been declared a heretic and be used for practice by his troops.

Another explosion, this one short, informed him that the Americans were preparing for another barrage from their cannons. The Americans had yet to advance their army, which suggested they intended to bomb Xochicalco into submission. This flew in the face of every theory offered by Montezuma's advisors, who declared the Americans took cities as quickly as possible.

If the advisors were right, what were the Americans waiting for? Tento decided he didn't want to know the answer to that.

------------

"Show him in." Washington ordered an aide. He waited patiently. Eventually, the English envoy entered. Washington stood and walked around his desk, offering a hand. The envoy shook it.

"Welcome." Washington offered.

"Thankyou for seeing my so quickly, your majesty." The envoy replied. "But necessity breeds haste."

"No problem." Washington waved away the thanks. "What can I do for you?"

"As you know," began the envoy, "the English have been in a precarious position for quite a while. The Germans continue to harass us about sharing the wealth of our southern territories that are close to their border. The Greeks want us off their continent, even though we peacefully established a city outside of their borders. And the French, well."

"The French have engaged in naval warfare with you on no less than five occasions." Washington said. "Yes, I have read my history. The Southern Isles have been a source of contention between your two countries for over three hundred years. But apart from the Isles, the French are too far south on your continent to truly be a threat."

"It is not the French we are worried about, your majesty." Replied the envoy. "Queen Elizabeth is worried about the Germans and the Greeks."

"I was under the impression that England, Greece and Germany were on peaceful terms." Washington said.

"That's the impression that has been given, yes." The envoy stated. "Off the record, though, the Germans have been moving troops to our borders and the Greek navy has been increasing its activities."

Washington nodded. His overseas fleet had noticed the increased activity around the Greek coast.

"We believe," continued the envoy, "that the Greeks and the Germans are secretly preparing an pre-emptive strike on our main territories."

"And what would you have the American Kingdom do about it?" Enquired Washington.

"Her majesty has asked me to request from you temporary military assistance." The envoy explained. "She's willing to offer freedom of movement for your troops throughout our territory until either this threat blows over or it blows out."

"What does Elizabeth expect from me?" Washington asked.

"She requests some battalions of your troops plus a naval deployment along the shores facing the Greek continent." The envoy said. "The queen has already accepted the loss of Leeds should hostilities erupt. She is hoping, though, that with your troops supporting us the Germans and the Greeks may back down."

"The force we send will most likely be small." Washington explained. "You must remember we are at war with the Aztecs."

"The Aztecs are trading with Germany." The envoy said bluntly. "However, surely you could sue for a temporary peace while you help us."

"I refuse to do such a thing on two grounds." Replied Washington. "One, if the Aztecs are trading with Germany, they will declare war on us anyway. And two, the American people are tired of fighting wars over their cities. They want to remove all threats from this continent. Montezuma made a mistake and he will pay for it."

The envoy looked like he was about to complain. Washington stopped him with a raised hand.

"However," he said, "I am willing to give the requested assistance to Elizabeth. Within the week, the 2nd Fleet will sail carrying two cavalry battalions, two musketmen battalions and two cannon battalions. The fleet, consisting of two four Sabre-class frigates and six Raider-class privateers will set up an external blockade of your coast. If I can pick off Alexander's transports with the privateers, all well and good. If, however, he deploys a bigger fleet, I will have to declare war against the Greeks."

Washington paused and pondered.

"I have kept an open dialogue with Alexander since he was gracious enough to trade horses to my father during our time of need." Washington said. "I would rather we just kept Greece out of any war altogether."

"On behalf of Queen Elizabeth," the envoy stated, "I gladly accept your offer to help England."

------------

Admiral Hiawatha, direct descendent of the Iroquois leader, stood on the deck of his flagship, the Sentinel, and looked out towards the land they were approaching. After four months of sailing, his fleet was nearly at the shores of England.

He was glad that he was finally doing something. His 2nd Fleet had done nothing since its formation five years earlier. The 3rd Fleet successfully crushed the Aztec navy early in the Second Continental War. His fleet had simply been an offensive reserve fleet. But now, they were assisting the English.

The transports deployed the American forces on the shores of England close to York. Hiawatha shook hands with General Brady, a direct descendant of the general who literally defeated his ancestor single-handedly, and wished him good luck. As the American troops strove inland, the transports weighed anchor to wait. Empty transports were just as useless as full ones.

With a strong wind, the 2nd Fleet made its way towards the north to await the final pieces of the puzzle to fall into place.

**WTE_OzWolf** · March 12, 2002, 05:10

...Continued...

General Brady was not so certain about their task in England. At least when fighting the Aztecs, you already knew they were your enemies. But here, he had no idea if the next move he made would start a war between America and some other country or delay one.

It did not comfort Brady to know that he was in charge of the first army that America had sent from its continent. He was in a foreign land with no method of support from his own country. Sometimes he thought politicians should leave the fighting to the soldiers.

Though he was in a foreign country, Brady did enjoy the sites. The climate was similar to his hometown of New York and the English people cheered his men as they made their way towards the border. The cheering did not fill Brady with too much cheer, though. People didn't generally cheer a foreign army unless they were in a desperate position.

This puzzled Brady. King Washington had given him the impression that the English simply wanted him here as a show of solidarity between the English and the American Kingdom. It was hoped that this show would prevent a war. But if they were only here for show, why were the English people cheering them like they were the saviours of the English nation? It worried Brady and he didn't like it.

------------

Upon arrival at their designated patrol area, Hiawatha had dispersed the privateers. Their strength was their anominity. For two months the ships had patrolled the ocean waters between England and Greece, only contacting each other at designated times. Each time, Hiawatha changed vessels so as he got to know what was happening everywhere.

Currently aboard a Raider-class privateer close to Leeds on the Greek continent, Hiawatha was on deck when he heard the first shots fired against Leeds. The sound of cannon fire was unmistakeable, which was disturbing as they didn't know the Greeks or the English has cannons.

"Any signs of transports?" He asked the ship's captain.

"None yet, sir." The captain replied.

Possibly, the Greeks would consolidate any gains made if they took Leeds before turning their attention to the English. And who knows what was happening on the continent now. The Germans could have attacked or they could be having drinks with English. Two months was a long time in this world's politics.

The Greeks were an unknown quantity. They had been the closest thing the Americans had had during the later part of the First Continental War. Without them, the Russians would surely have run over the Americans eventually, even with General Charles Smith's efforts. The last thing Hiawatha wanted to do was go to war against a possible friend.

"Sir." Reported the captain. "Sails on the horizon."

"Let's head for them, captain." Hiawatha ordered. "And if they've got more than row-boats, we beat for the fleet staging area and deploy the frigates."

The privateer vessel came about and her sails billowed out. Quickly, she picked up speed and the enemy vessels slowly came visible to the naked eye.

"Four transports, sir." The captain relayed from his lookout. "Apparently two galleys were escorting them but have pulled back."

Hiawatha snorted.

"Galleys were dangerous 500 years ago." Hiawatha said. “Now, our privateers would tear them apart.”

He sighed.

“As much as I don’t want to, let us stop the transports.” He said. “And let’s hope our King can find someone else to blame.”

With lethal precision, the privateer fell amongst the transports. They stood no chance as the sleek ship moved amongst them. Then, with the job complete and the water stained with Greek blood, the privateer slipped away so as Admiral Hiawatha could rejoin his frigate fleet.

------------

General Brady was relaxing with his troops, close to the border. As he placed his money in the pot, he glanced towards the horizon. Basically mirroring his army on the other side of the border was literally the entire northern army of the Germans. When they had first arrived, scouts had only noticed small pockets scattered about, but that had soon changed. During the last week, the army had grown steadily as the scattered battalions converged on the one spot until now the Germans outnumbered the Americans three-to-one.

Brady had stopped worrying. He had a vague idea what was going on here, and though he didn’t like it, he knew it was out of his hands. What he could do was plan for its eventuality and be ready to move when it did happen.

He threw his hand down. Ace high was all he had. He regularly got into these poker games. Many generals believed that one shouldn’t mix with the common ranks, but Brady thought otherwise. Tomorrow, Brady may have to lead these men into battle and he believed that if they knew him as a person they would trust him to look after them. Vice-versa, he could trust his men to follow him because he knew them as a person rather than a number on a list.

The flicker of the lit torches threw an eerie shadow on the messenger as he burst out of the darkness, running towards the general. Brady simply chuckled.

“They’ve done it.” He said to himself before looking at the men around the table. “Sorry gentlemen, but I must take my leave.”

He stood and walked towards the running messenger and spoke before the messenger could.

“The English are moving towards the German border.” Brady said. “Go instruct the flank sentries to return to the camp.”

He entered his camp where his battalion commanders were sitting around.

“Get your men ready to pack up.” Brady ordered. “At sun-up, we’re heading back to the coast.”

The commanders looked at him bewildered.

“As we sit here on the border, collecting German tourists on the other side,” explained Brady, “our English friends are moving towards the border.”

A commander spoke up.

“And we’re going to leave?” He asked.

“Yes we are.” Replied Brady. “We were sent here to help the English should the Germans decide to attack, not to be made a pawn in Queen Elizabeth’s game. If we do not leave before the English attack, we will have eighteen battalions of Bismark’s finest riding down on us. I do not intend to have my troops killed trying to protect our ‘helpless’ friend who picked the fight in the first place.”

Brady watched with pride as his army packed up during the night. An hour before sun-up, all was ready and at a quick pace they left their positions. Brady noted with amusement that this stirred up the German army like a hornet’s nest, but it had calmed down before they were out of sight.

------------

Queen Elizabeth listened to the report from her military advisor. The attack on Germany had gone well initially.

“What of the Greeks?” She asked.

“Alexander was appeased with the sacrifice of Leeds.” The foreign advisor chimed in. “It would seem his only goal was have the continent to himself.”

“And the Americans?” She queried.

“The American forces have withdrawn from our shores and are headed back to their continent.” The military advisor reported. “However, the American ambassador has requested an audience with yourself.”

“Grant it.” Elizabeth ordered. “The Americans have served their purpose. Their sinking of the Greek transport fleet means we can no focus our attention on the Germans. You are dismissed. Send the American ambassador.”

Elizabeth waited impatiently for the ambassador to arrive. When he did, he wasted no time on pleasantries.

“Your majesty, you have made a grievous error.” He stated straight up. “The American people do not like being used as pawns in other people’s games.”

“Ah, but they have been used ambassador.” Elizabeth stated. “There is nothing you can do about it.”

“There is a great deal we can do about it.” The ambassador said. “As of now, all trade routes are cut. Unless you pay us a tribute of gold we will inform the Greeks that you sunk their transports. You will regret this day.”

“I doubt it ambassador.” Elizabeth said. “And when we are finished, we will be able to challenge the might Americans for global dominance.”

“Remember those words, your majesty,” retorted the ambassador, “when Bismark is knocking on your front door with his army. Good day to you. Enjoy the rest of your existence.”

With that, the ambassador left.

------------
Interlude
------------

Elizabeth paid dearly for the attack on Germany. Without the support of America, England was on equal footing with Germany. However, Elizabeth got greedy and decided to finish the dispute of the Southern Isles once and for all. She invaded the French city. France declared war on England. This may have worked, except for the fact that the Greeks had a Mutual Protection Pact with the French and before they knew it, England was at war against three enemies.

The English cities revolted one by one through a combination of the lost American imports (luxury goods) and war weariness.

With its army decimated and the cities in turmoil, Bismark’s armies marched into lower England and took London, burning the capital city to the ground. Germany effectively captured all of mainland England except for two cities the Greeks took.

The French claimed the Southern Isles once and for all and the Western Isles saw the Germans take two cities and the French and Greek got two.

Within ten years, the English were gone and Germany joined the Greeks as the second most powerful nations in the world.

------------

The Aztecs were defeated. Montezuma refused to see that, but the superior numbers and technology of the Americans simply overwhelmed them. Washington could see this. Like an undeniable tidal wave, the American military was surging northward. Aztec cities fell. Aztec troops were swatted aside like flies.

Washington wanted the war over. His people were restless. The English were suffering from Elizabeth’s folly and were protesting the wars. But they could protest all they liked. Washington did not believe Alexander, Bismark or Joan de Arc would give Elizabeth the time of day, let alone the chance to have peace.

He was sorry to see the English be slowly consumed by her neighbours, but he refused to help on principles. He sent forces to aid England against invasion. Instead, Elizabeth had used his soldiers to distract the German forces and had used his fleet to keep the Greeks off her back while she invaded Germany. The American people had been abused by her neighbours and 'friends' long enough.

He pushed his simmering anger aside and refocused on the tactical map. Tenochtitlan had rejected the American occupation twice in as many years now. He needed to redirect troops from the attack on Texcoco to take the troublesome Aztec capital and hold it.

Sighing, he called for his military advisor.

------------

This far north was cold. Winter had set in and Tento was not impressed. After the loss of Xochicalco, he had fled the city and headed north. He had barely got to Tlatelolco before an American army was attacking it. So he fled to the liberated capital. It fell again.

The Aztec people were on the run. The juggernaught that was the American war machine kept coming. The relentlessness of their advance was terrifying. They consumed territory like locusts. The soldiers he had fought against were cold, expressionless and remorseless. He had discovered that a good deal of them had fought battles outside the gates of Washington and New York or had witnessed first-hand the ruthlessness of their Russian occupiers.

Any compassion the Americans once had had been burnt out by Russian occupation. The American nation had walked through hell and had emerged stronger from it. The Aztecs, always the opportunists, were learning this when it was too late. The damage was done. The Americans were determined to have their continent as their own.

The Aztecs had always kept to themselves. Tento declared Montezuma mad to all and sundry now…everybody agreed with him anyway. To attempt to wage their first full war against the Americans had been foolish, especially when at the time, the Americans were geared up fully for military conquest.

Not for the first time, Tento cursed loud and long about the weather of Texcoco. You couldn’t sleep in the cold. You couldn’t drink your coffee because it froze in the mug after 30 seconds. And the Americans kept coming.

Tento was used to the noise of the shelling by now. He’d spent the last two years listening to it constantly. He was just walking to his duty spot when it stopped. He stopped too. It meant only one thing. Sure enough, the trumpeter called reveille. Grabbing his sword, Tento ran for the battlements.

He looked over the wall and just stood there in shock. Charging across the ruined fields was a sea of American troops. Swordsmen, cavalry, longbowmen, musketmen. They came in one giant relentless wave.

“Plenty of targets!” He called. “Archers open fire!!!”

Tento’s longbowmen opened fire into teeming mass. The barrage seemed to do disturbingly little to the advancing army.

When the attackers were within a hundred yards of the walls, the hissing sound of red-hot musket shot filled the air. Tento ducked just as a barrage hit his area of the wall. The longbowmen that had been standing alongside him fell, two gaping wounds in his chest, his face a mask of twisted agony.

The Americans did not even worry with climbing the walls. In the midst of the human wave came a solitary cannon, which with one shot blew the city gates off their hinges. Then like water let through a canal, the American tidal wave crashed against the shore that was Texcoco.

------------

Joshua Harrison charged through the enemy gates at the head of his troops, his musket firing. He fired his pistol as well before drawing his sword and pushing towards the town centre.

The cries and screams of women and children filled his ears, but he ignored them. An Aztec ceremonial warrior appeared before him. He cut him down without his horse breaking stride. Behind him charged the rest of his battalion of cavalry. Archers fired from windows and were met with a volley from the cavalry and musketmen they fired at. Swordsmen cleared the houses, using their melee skills to kill or drive out the defenders.

At the top of one wall stood an Aztec general. His sword flashed through a number of American troops. Joshua watched, fascinated. He watched a real warrior. In defiance, the Aztec raised his sword and let loose a battle cry. The charged the musketmen that had just entered the city. He never made it. The first barrage cut him down.

With their general lost, the surrounding Aztec troops lost spirit and a good deal many of them made suicide attacks on American troops. Joshua was appalled. Two swordsmen threw themselves on their swords rather than be taken prisoner. Blood flowed through the streets. The Aztecs fought to the last man.

Finally, the city was taken, and the air was filled with the wailing of women and children. Joshua rode out of the city because he couldn’t stand it.

------------

The war with the Aztecs was over. Their culture was crushed. Washington sat in his chair looking at the kingdom he and his ancestors had carved out for themselves. Washington III had annexed the Iroquois because of their iron and eventually their alliance with the Russians. 500 years of hostilities later, Lincoln VII, his father, had defeated the Russians. And now, he, Washington XIII had defeated the last remaining nation on the continent.

Montezuma had been found dead, killed by his own hand. The amount of prisoners taken during the Second Continental War had been appalling. The Aztecs refused to be taken prisoner. They either killed themselves or fought until killed. A good deal many of the Aztec cities taken were literally ruins. Only years of rebuilding would restore them. The Aztec and Russian people were crushed.

But Washington, now aged 36, looked towards the future. For the first time in over 500 years, the American people would know peace. And peace meant changes. The main change that Washington saw was a change of governance. The current system of a monarch had worked to bring America through the fire, but he foresaw that it would be clumsy to handle while not at war. A large percentage of his armies would be disbanded, no longer needed.

His scholars had been preaching to him only recently the virtues of democracy. The idea of a leader elected by the people intrigued him. The leader would represent them and their views, rather than the upper-classes wants, needs and whims. He liked the idea. Maybe he would run for the new leader position. Or maybe he would simply retire, the years of war and bloodshed weighing heavily on his shoulders. He called for his domestic advisor.

“America,” he declared to the advisor, “is going to elect its leader.”

------------

Stay tuned for the final episode in Generations. With the world now only containing four nations, what will happen? Who will side with whom? What will be America’s role in the future?

(Note: A map will be provided in the last episode)

**steelehc** · March 12, 2002, 05:33

This is getting better and better. It is one of the best stories I have ever read, anywhere.

Steele

**Tarquinius** · March 12, 2002, 12:06

I agree Steele!
I am really looking forward to the last episode!

**civman2000** · March 12, 2002, 18:13

Map map map!!!!!!!! Yaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!

**dnassman** · March 12, 2002, 19:40

This is a fantastic story and a fellow Aussie wrote it too. Even better.

**Coinich** · March 12, 2002, 20:06

WOW!

Great story - I read it enraptured until I finished. Lost lots of work time because of this story

Coinich

**WTE_OzWolf** · March 12, 2002, 23:41

Generations - Episode 4: Armageddon

------------
What Has Happened
------------

Nine hundred years have passed since the Second Continental War ended. Nine centuries of peace. Washington XIII's plan to change the government to a democracy worked. He retired a hero of the nation, the end of a dynasty that had led American from the fire's of hell. The blood of three nations marked America's voyage to power.

For nine hundred years, the duely elected President of the America had led their country through peaceful prosperity. It was a golden time. All countries were at peace and scientific developement was at the forefront.

America traded its technological superiority for the happiness of its people. Silks, diamonds, incense and gems were among the luxury items that the American people received for the selling of their scientific discoveries.

The American military was slowly downsized to accomodate adjusted budget spending. After nine hundred years, the American military power was the lowest it had ever been since the Iron War.

But peace is never ever-lasting. Jason Carter, who would later receive the nickname "The Wolf", recently elected President of America, has grander schemes than simple peaceful prosperity in mind for his country.

In a bid to solidify his power, Carter dissolved the American government. Backed by elements within the military, he took complete control of the government. A secret military build-up was initiated, one that hadn't been seen since the Second Continental War.

The world watched apprehensively as Carter took full control of America. Trade deals were withdrawn and diplomatic ties severed. The world was nervous, but Carter refused to allay them.

------------

Jason Carter watched as the tenth Scimitar-class Battleship got underway. America's blue water navy was now the strongest in the world. Ten battleships, twenty-five Aegis-class cruisers and fifteen nuclear submarines comprised the visible navy. However, five aircraft carrier were currently hidden in ports around America awaiting their chance to be launched.

"Where are our scientists at now?" He asked his scientific advisor.

"Sir, the first squadrons of F-15 fighters are currently being deployed to the Nimitz." Explained the advisor. "Our B-2 project is under-way and the first squadrons will be ready shortly."

"And our cruise missiles?" He enquired.

"We currently have all fifteen nuclear subs carrying cruise missiles." Reported the military advisor. "Also, Philadelphia, Boston and Salamanca have their batteries operational."

There was a pause before the military advisor spoke up.

"Ah, sir." He queried. "Who are we supposed to be gearing up to attack?"

Carter turned on his advisor.

"Think about it fool." He growled. "Our one and only oil source dried up last year. We need oil."

The military advisor's eyes widened.

"We're going to attack France?" He asked. Carter snorted.

"Not just attack them." He replied. "We're going to crush them. I want their oil fields, their rubber stocks and their aluminium. I intend to wipe the French off the face of the planet."

Carter's advisors looked at him in shock.

"You do realise sir," said the foreign advisor, "that our standing with the other countries will take a battering?"

"The other countries are of no consequence." Carter replied. "They are a generation behind in technology. We will crush them."

------------

The first that Jacques Lyon knew that Paris was under attack was the explosion. He ran out of his house to see a huge fireball rolling skywards from near the local barracks. As he looked on dumb-founded, a small white object on the end of a long plume of fire roared over-head at an unbelievable speed. It hit close to the factory district.

Jacques counted close to fifteen such attacks over the next two days. The weapons seemed impossible to stop. He thought they were bombs, but there was no sign of any aircraft around. Only on the third day he discovered what they were: cruise missiles. He had wondered why the French military hadn't detected the launch craft, but he also discovered that the attacks had been launched from submarines off their coast and from the American continent.

The truth staggered Jacques. To be able to attack from that distance. He had done his national service just over a year ago and he had seen the inventions the Americans were selling the French: tanks, aircraft and self-loading rifles. He had been amazed then, but now. Now he just refused to believe it.

The French were at war with the Americans.

Paris was burning out of control by the time the first jet aircraft flew overhead, dropping bombs on the city. Jacques was sick of feeling helpless, so he made his way to the local barracks. What he found was mayhem. Thousands of his fellow citizens, many he recognised from his days in the army, were crowded around the barracks. A colonel stood on top of a truck and ordered everybody to form into lines to be given their assignments.

Jacques got in his line and shuffled forward. Three hours later, he stood at a table. The corporal asked him questions.

"Name."

"Reserve Private Jacques Lyon."

"Reserve Private? Have you done national service?"

"Yes Corporal."

"Corps?"

"Regular Infantry."

"Ok Private Lyon, see the barracks over there." The corporal indicated a nearby building. "Head over there."

The corporal gave Jacques a signed piece of paper. Jacques made his way over towards the building, but had to hit the dirt as another American jet roared overhead, dropping its bombs on the barracks. Where were the French Airforce? he wondered. Why did they let Americans attack with impunity?

Anti-aircraft guns fired continuously, filling the sky with a virtual curtain of black puff, but the guns were useless against the fast moving American jets.

Getting to his feet, Jacques dusted himself off and entered the barracks. A young captain turned to him. Jacques braced up, his military training returning to him. He saluted.

"Private Jacques Lyon reporting, sir." He reported.

"Papers." The captain said. Jacques handed him his paper. "Ah, another infantryman. Move to the far end of the building, soldier, and collect your gear."

Jacques moved through the long barracks. Troops were being fitted out with all types of gear. One area had soldiers being issued the protective gear worn by tank loaders. Others were being given saddles for cavalry. Some were even being issued obsolete muskets. Upon reaching the end of barracks a sergeant took his papers and ushered him to a spare spot. He was issued a helmet, a self-loading rifle and some hand grenades.

Once everybody around him had been issued similar equipment, they were moved out the back of the barracks to the armoury where they were issued 100 rounds of rifle bullets each.

"Don't waste 'em." The sergeant said. "You won't know when you'll be coming back."

In a daze, Jacques followed his fellow soldiers to a truck. They had just climbed in when they heard the first yells of disbelief.

The Americans had established a beach-head at Orleans and had landed their troops one day's march from Paris.

------------

The guns on the American Naval Ship Washington roared again. The massive battleship was pounding the French coastline mercilessly. Admiral Nicholas Barnard stood on the bridge of his flagship watching through binoculars. In line astern formation followed six more Washington-class battleships, each pounding away at the French. Twice, his submarines had intercepted and destroyed French submarines attempting to prey on his fleet.

"Bombers!" Called a lookout. Nicholas followed his pointing finger and saw the angry swarm of French bombers making their way towards the fleet. The cruisers escorting the battleships lit up like christmas trees as their commanders launched multiple surface-to-air missiles. The two aircraft carriers currently in his immediate fleet launched eight fighters each. The sixteen aircraft followed the contrails of the fast disappearing missiles towards the enemy bomber formation.

The piston-engined bombers of the French Airforce did not stand a chance against the technological might of the American forces. Very few bombers were left for the fighters to mop up. Admiral Barnard's fleet had literally come through the engagement so far un-scathed.

"Begin landing the marines." Admiral Barnard ordered. "I want Orleans and I want those oil fields."

------------

Master Chief Lance Davidson looked over through a port-hole in his landing craft. The tracked amphibious assault craft pitched and rolled in the swell as it neared the Orleans coast. Rifle fire pinged off the armoured shell of the assault craft, but it was harmless. The coastal batteries had been quietened earlier by the line of American battleships, the fighters and the initial assault of cruise missiles.

Lance Davidson had been in the marines his entire adult life. This was his first ever action, an amphibious assault on a fortified city.

"Two minutes!" He called, spitting out a mouthful of salt water that had come through the open port-hole.

The interior of the assault craft was oppressively hot and smelt strongly of urine and spew. He looked around. He knew his troops were scared but they all wore the same determined look that said they'd get the job done.

Suddenly, a loud clang reverbrated through the landing craft and it rolled even more before righting itself.

"What the hell?" Cursed a nearby soldier. Lance looked out the port-hole.

"I don't believe it!" He exclaimed. "They've got catapults!"

The petty officer alongside him laughed.

"The froggies must be desperate." He chuckled. Lance didn't laugh.

"You would be too if they were at your home city." He pointed out. The petty officer sobred.

"One minute!" He called.

The rolling of the assault craft stopped, signifying that the tracks had made contact with the shoreline. The engined revved louder and it strove forwards up the beach. Enemy fire intensified, making speech impossible within the craft.

A whistle blew and the back of the assault craft dropped open. Lance ran out and to the right. As soon as he was out from the cover of the assault craft's bulk, he hit the sand. Rifle-fire sprayed sand over him. A louder report had him looking in disbelief at French soldiers reloading ancient muskets.

"Forward!" He yelled, following the lead of the Lieutenant in front of him. "Get up close and personal."

The marines ran forward. Some fell, but less than Lance would have expected. He reached the sea wall and stopped to catch his breath. With his back to wall, he was looking back out to sea. He also had a grand-stand view as the assault craft he had just climbed out of went up in a gigantic explosion.

It didn't take Lance long to figure out what caused the explosion. The loud metallic clanking of tank tracks told him everything he needed.

"LAWS!" He called out. A marine carrying the Light Anti-tank Weapon on his shoulder ran up. "Find a position and take out those bastards for me."

The marine nodded and ran off with some other LAW carrying marines. Leading his men, Lance began to creep along the base of the sea-wall until he found a spot that could give them access to the beachfront road via a set of stairs.

Placing his helmet on the end of his M-16, he cautiously stuck it out at the base of the stairs. Immediately, automatic fire sent the helmet spinning on the barrel end. Lance took a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and lobbed it up over the sea wall and into the stairwell, closely followed by others from his section. Muffled explosions could be heard. Tentatively, Lance stepped into the stairwell, but nobody fired at him.

Just as Lance looked over the lip of the stairwell, streaks of fire ignited from a nearby sand dune, smacking with terrifying force into the three tanks guarding the sea wall. Raising his rifle, Lance picked off some running French troops before moving onto the sea wall proper.

Other marine units were moving onto the sea wall and making towards the buildings close by. Enemy fire from the buildings was generally shortlived, frequently answered by LAW rockets from the sand dune.

Eventually, Lance stood with his Lieutenant at an intersection, supervising the building of defensive positions.

"Master Chief." The Lieutenant said. "Report in that we have secured the beach head."

**WTE_OzWolf** · March 12, 2002, 23:44

...Continued...

The ride through Paris was nauseating in the back of the truck. The smoke from the burning city hung thick in the air. The tarpuline covering the back was oppresive in its ability to hold heat. And the roads of Paris were no longer very drivable, so the truck swayed constantly.

The soot-smeared faces of the citizenry watched emotionless as the trucked passed them. Jacques looked at his fellow soldiers. Two cried unashamedly and he couldn't blame them. They had no idea what they were going to face. The side of the truck was covered with splattered spew where the men's nerves got the better of their breakfast and they had to lean outside to empty their stomachs.

Twice they had to abandon the truck as American jets attacked from above. On one occassion, a French fighter attacked the Americans and like his fellow soldiers, he cheered. But the French aircraft was no match for the American jets. His machine guns were hopeless ineffective against the speed of the jets and the range of their missiles.

Paris no longer had city walls. The city had expanded well past their limits. The army was trying to establish a defensive perimeter around the city and every willing person was being given any type of weapon to assist. He had seen musketeer and cavalry units, both hopelessy outmatched by modern weapons. He was just glad he had been placed in the infantry and had the more modern gear, though he didn't know how long that would last.

Finally, much to relief of Jacques' stomach, the truck pulled to a lurching halt and they were able to climb out. What they saw before them gave them hope. French troops were everywhere. Assembled before Jacques was possible the biggest single army France had ever fielded.

The hope dimmed, though, as Jacques watched one of those infernal American fighter jets strafe an entire column of French troops. However, much to Jacques' delight, the Americans didn't have it all their own way. Fire from the troops managed to bring one American down. It rolled lazily and fell from the sky, exploding some kilometers away when the laws of physics defeated it.

After taking their defensive positions, Jacques waited. He couldn't remember exactly when he noticed it, but the ground was shaking slightly and a subtle rumble filled the air. He looked at his compatriots and they were beginning to notice it as well. Nothing could be seen.

Suddenly, a nearby tank exploded closely followed by a BOOM from the direction of where the Americans were supposed to be coming from. Where did that shot come from and who fired it?

The rumbling grew louder, but was now accompanied by beating sound. The troops around him were nervous and a number of cavalry unit scattered as their horses spooked.

Out of the smoke haze roared a wall of tanks unlike anything Jacques had ever seen. With un-erring accuracy, their cannons fired, seeming to destroy a tank or artillery emplacement with each shot. A couple of the tanks exploded from artillery hits or concentrated fire from multiple tanks, but still they came.

Jacques did not fire his rifle. He knew the shots would be useless against armour. He kept watching for a target. As he watched, a sight appeared that chilled him to the bone. From the haze, blowing the smoke aside like god's hands themselves came an aircraft Jacques had never seen before. Atop the aircraft spun two blades at either end of the body. Their flight looked awkward, impossible.

Abruptly, the hundreds of aircraft stopped in mid-air and hovered. The firing along the defensive line stuttered to a stop, disbelief at this sight. The new craft dropped to the ground and ten battalions of infantry were disgorged. Here was a target that Jacques could fire at.

Recovering himself, Jacques worked the trigger and kept firing. Targets were plenty. Three times he was nearly crushed by passing American tanks, but he kept re-emerging to fire at the enemy.

But try as they might, the galant defenders of Paris could not stem the flow. Slowly they fell back until their backs faced enemies who had attacked from another direction. With obvious reluctance, Jacques lay down his rifle along with his surviving countrymen and surrendered.

The Americans had captured the French capital.

------------

Lance Davidson through a grenade into a doorway. He stepped back just as the explosion, plus the arm of the doorway's occupant, poured out into the Orleans street. He quickly checked the doorway. The man in there carried the remains of a pike. Lance could not believe it. The French were arming anybody with any weapon they could find, including weapons out of museums and long forgotten armouries.

Behind him, rumbling up the street, came an M1A1 Abrahms main battle tank. With the beach head secured, the heavy armour had been brought assure. Lance was definitely glad of their assistance. Behind the advancing American forces was devestation. The French were determined to hold onto this city with everything they had. It had taken the tanks to blow apart buildings to flush them out.

But the resistance was fading. It appeared the best armed troops had been sent to where the Americans were coming assure. Lance was glad. His right shoulder still ached from a musket shot he had taken there. He still laughed when describing his wound.

"I was in the initial invasion." He would say. "And some froggy got a musket from a museum, closed his eyes..."

Then he would start laughing and have to squeeze out the last bit.

"...and shot me! He was so shocked he burnt his hand on the barrel!"

A helicopter roared overhead and began to descend on the town square just up ahead. Signalling to his troops and the tank, he ran towards it.

Out of the helicopter stepped General Sebastian Vladihov. Lance saluted the General before talking.

"Sir, may I ask why you're in a hot zone?" He asked.

"Because the city is now ours." Replied Vladihov, his Russian-region accent shining through. "The governor has issued the surrender of his city to our troops."

Lance smiled and headed back to tell his troops.

------------

The world just after the initial invasion of France.

Light Blue: America
Pink: France
Purple: Germany
Green: Greece

I have also marked where each of the defeated nations once were. England held the top part of their continent, one city on the Greek continent and the two isles to the west and south.
------------

Carter's military advisor came up to him as he watched the B-2 bombers preparing to fly to Paris.

"Sir!" He called. "Orleans is ours."

The advisor stopped as the B-2 began taxiing towards the runway.

"Sir," he protested, "we have their oil fields. Joan de Arc is ready to negotiate a peace deal. We can get great concessions from them."

Carter turned on his advisor.

"What I want from her," growled Carter, "is her country."

The advisor looked shocked.

"You can't be serious, sir." He protested again.

"Never," ground out Carter through clenched teeth, "question my judgement. Her country will be ours."

"Sir, the Germans and Greeks will never stand for it!" The advisor proclaimed.

"The Germans and Greeks are as worthless as the French." Cater replied. "What they think is inconsequential."

"They will declare war on us, sir." Explained the advisor. "We attacked France unprovoked."

"We crushed the French easily enough." Carter said. "The Germans and Greeks will be no different."

Carter walked off, leaving a worried military advisor behind him.

------------

Airforce Major Thomas Kilsyth checked his radar scope. The city of Calais was coming up and he wanted to make sure his bombs went right in the block-hole.

The B-2 bomber he and Major Sam Casey flew was the newest weapon in American tactical warfare. The massive black bat-wing struck fear into the enemy during the day was virtually invisible by night.

President Carter had ordered they attack at day, for pyschological reasons. The occassional black puff of flak marked their approach to Calais, but they had caught the Calais people asleep. They didn't expect American aircraft to be able to reach so far north from Paris.

His radar scope pinged to notify him it was time. Two touches on his computer screen and his laser guided weapons were away. The spies on the ground in Calais would do the rest. Wheeling the bomber around, Thomas began the relatively borning trip back to Paris.

------------

From the back of a truck, Jacques watched the American war machine grind on. He remembered his history lessons in school and the relentlessness of America during the Continental Wars, but it was frightening to see it up close.

Some of the more talkative American soldiers did not agree with the invasion. In hushed tones, they talked about their dislike for their self-proclaimed President and what he was doing to their own country and to France.

He was being taken to a POW camp just outside Orleans. The four French cities, including Paris, that lined the west coast of France were now under American occupation. The new American tanks and weaponary seemed impossible to stop. He had witnessed first hand a submarine launching a cruise missile. He had seen the black, flying wings silently flying north. He had even seen what the Americans called a 'helicopter' up close.

The truck he was in came to a stop. A burly American soldier came around the back.

"Everyone out!" He called to them.

They stood and shuffled forwards. With their ankles chained together and to the man in front and behind them, the prisoners could not move very fast. Like a gaggle of geese, they were led in a single line towards an encampment.

Their countrymen already in the encampment welcomed them. Once inside, the Americans removed the shackles. Jacques was led by a friendly man from Orleans to a hut. He was given a comfortable bed and a shower. In the morning, he enjoyed a healthy and filling meal.

"This is better than what I thought." Jacques commented after breakfast.

"Why?" Asked somebody. "What did you expect?"

"They are Americans." Jacques said bluntly. "Why treat your opponents so well."

"Because they want to treat their future citizens with respect." Replied somebody else.

That's when it hit Jacques. The Americans were going to swallow his country whole, like they did to the Iroquois, the Russians and the Aztecs, but not because of defence or self-preservation, but because they had a tyrant as their leader.

Jacques wept.

------------

The German Navy wasted no effort on pleasantries. They stormed straight past the outer escorts and began laying down a bombardment against the American warships. Their fighters launched from their two aircraft carriers, but were intercepted by the Americans.

Initially, the Germans had the high-ground until the American subs entered the fray. The massive German battleships shook and rocked from the torpedo hits and one by one they slipped under the waves until only one damaged battleship and an empty aircraft carrier limped away from the American fleet.

The Americans had lost the ANS New York (a Washington-class battleship), three Aegis-class cruisers and three aircraft.

"I want everyone to know we are at war with the Germans." Ordered Admiral Barnard.

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The first thing that told Lance Davidson was when a nearby tank exploded from behind. Spinning, he saw a line of German panzers charging out of the trees.

"Panzers!" He informed his men.

The advancing American army stopped its forward advance and began to turn on the forces at their rear. Two panzers went up as LAWs slammed into their bodies. Following the panzers came members of the Wermacht. Ordering his troops to follow, Lance circled away from the brutal tank battle and approached the German soldiers from their flanks. With guns blazing, they entered the fray.

Technological superiority or not, the close-in nitty-gritty of man-to-man warfare never changed, human kind just invented ways to end it faster. Grenades, automatic fire, rifle fire, LAWs. They all flew back and forth between the American and German troops.

Lance received a report that French troops were advancing on their position. He didn't like their chances. The French and the Germans had pulled a perfect pincer, capturing the Americans in the middle. The American tanks were granted an escape if they defeated the panzers, but Lance's fellow soldiers might not be so lucky.

His misgivings, though, were blown away completely by the arrival of four more tank battalions and two squadrons worth of B-2 bombers. The small advantage the French and Germans had was reversed completely in a matter of seconds as the rampaging armoured corps literally rode over the enemy troops.

The advance on Calais was soon re-organised and within the day, the city was under American control.

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President Jason Carter watched the film clip for the third time. His scientists had done it. They had perfected the nuclear bomb. Just outside Moscow, the Manhattan Project was complete.

"I want production started on these immediately." Ordered Carter. "We will soon hold the world at our control."

The military advisor looked worried. The Manhattan Project had gone ahead despite his protests that nobody should control this kind of power.

"Sir," he protested, "do you think it is wise to produce such a weapon?"

"Yes I do, advisor." Replied Carter. "And with it, we will get what we want from the world. The Germans and the Greeks were foolish to declare war on us."

"Something I did predict." The advisor reminded his leader.

"Yes, but our reach far exceeds theirs." Continued Carter. "And with these weapons, our punch will be just as powerful as our reach."

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Mainland France existed only as a entity of America. The German Eastern High Seas Fleet was crushed. The attempted counter-attack by the Germans was likewise crushed. Berlin was burning from constant cruise missile and B-2 bomber attacks. Admiral Barnard shook his head. War against the world at what cost? Some oil fields? A notch for President Carter's bed stand?

Currently, Barnard's Alpha Task Force was escorting three Ocean-class transports to the Southern Isles. His Bravo Task Force was escorting three Ocean-class transports to the Western Isles. He predicted that within the year, the provincial cities of Free France would be under American rule.

The Americans ruled the high seas, they ruled the skies and they ruled the battleground, yet Carter did not wish to look for peace. He was bent on global domination.

The French cities they controlled were in perpetual revolt. A number of American cities were also tired of the war and Carter's tyrannical ways. Yet, he would not stop the war.

So, the American juggernaught marched on.

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Rather ironically, the first nuclear weapon used was not launched by the Americans, but rather the Greeks. It exploded over Washington City. President Jason "The Wolf" Carter died instantly. The research for nuclear weapons had been smuggled out of the US by German spies and promptly given to the Greeks and the French.

Leaderless, yet free of Carter's short tyrannical rule, the interim leaders sued for peace, including the return of all French cities bar Orleans. The Greeks and Germans refused peace, so the American army finished off the French and took all of the Western Isles.

With the complete defeat of the French, the Germans launched a nuclear warhead at Salamanca. Admiral Barnard attempted to invade lower Germany, but the Germans had progressed technologically and the Americans no longer had the edge they once did.

In retaliation for the attacks on Washington and Salamanca, Barnard, now the wartime leader of the American nation, launched two nuclear warheads at Greece and two at Germany. Berlin was captured by American troops shortly after the city was bombed and was burnt to the ground.

Seven more nuclear weapons were launched between each side. Pollution scattered the globe. Global warming rendered unradiated crops useless. Cities face starvation. The influence of cities was reduced. The American forces occupying France completely invaded Germany. The German army was reduced to very little by the American nuclear counter-attacks and the Americans moved through Germany taking city after city, inheriting a burnt, useless wasteland.

Greece capitulated. They lost two thirds of their cities to the Americans for their peace and freedom. Not that it mattered. Pollution left every continent a wasteland. Monetary flow stopped and reversed. City sizes dropped. Warfare ground to a stand-still as armies were reduced.

The world was dying.

Armageddon had arrived.

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So there we are. This really did happen in my game. An all-out nuclear war and suddenly, the world was a wasteland. Teaches me not to be so much a war-monger, eh?

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Generations - Episode 2: From the Brink

Generations - Episode 2: From the Brink

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