Oberst
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Post by Oberst on Jun 8, 2020 20:56:51 GMT -6
8th of August UC 112
A letter would be delivered to resigned full bird Colonel's Richard Lavans private residence at the colony where he resided. This might have been the universal century but life on these martian colonies was in more ways than one old fashioned. The high speed data network was reserved for defense matters exclusively and right now Martian defense forces were fully engaged with Federation intelligence assets on a virtual battleground fought with electronic warfare assets.
The letter was from the government clearly, informing Richard plainly he would be receiving a visit after he confirmed the appointment. The sender was none other than the local municipality, right next door to the mail service office. Even on a highly digital age people still sent mail and packages to each other.
A female voice would answer the tone, talking the man into finding the time to hear about a job offer, the details which would be discussed at a location of his choosing at a date and time everyone would find most convenient. This was clearly one of the town hall secretaries simply booking an appointment for her boss, whoever that was. There were details better discussed in person.
Things were calm on this corner of the Martian territories butt here were numerous reports that the Federation had arrived with battles being fought in and around the fortress of Deimos. 3 days earlier it was announced that a major offensive operation had been crushed at the gates of the space fortress and the pictures of a sunk Ra Cailum assault carrier were all over the news. Anyone observant would be able to see this flagship had been sunk by anti-ship missiles judging from the entry wounds.
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Post by Zedic on Jun 9, 2020 23:05:14 GMT -6
It was an unassuming little suburb, the kind lower-upper class liked to live in. Big, fancy houses were the dominant features, most of them not quite big enough to be mansions. It was a community filled primarily with retirees who held BBQs every now and then, got together and played cards or played golf at the nearby course. Richard Lavans had been living in this community for over twenty years. That's the extent those in the neighborhood knew him, nevermind the residents in the greater colony as a whole. Just a retired entrepreneur that lived a quiet, unassuming life. In the military community, his name might garner more respect, and everyone may know his name in the special operations community. But civilian wise? Hardly anyone knew him outside of his name and introduction he would give others. After all, how many people in the 21st Century United States knew who Richard Marcinko was? Or Aaron Bank? How many people, at the time, knew Elvis Presley fought in WWII? Amazing how many military factoids about seemingly non-military personnel went unnoticed by the common folk. Lavans, therefore, was able to lead a quiet, unassuming life - and to his surprise, the Federation had sent no one so far to kill him. No one who could find him, anyway.
The Mars Zeon high command knew exactly who and where he was, however, though they seemed to respect his apparent wish not to cause a ruckus. So far, anyway. Whenever they wanted his assistance, be it advice or expertise in training programs, they'd send their agents to his front door, all dressed in civilian attire. Or they would send him a letter, like they did today.
Richard sat in his big armchair behind his equally imposing and lavish dark mohogany desk. They, along with the equally polished shelves, bookcases, coffee table and sofa and chairs occupied the windowless chamber that was his den, his office and his mancave. The walls were decorated by framed military medals, cutout magazine and newspaper articles, and photos of various military related people and things. On Lavans' desk sat a computer monitor, keyboard and mouse, a large, labelless whiskey bottle with a matching pair of glasses, a big box of his expensive favorite cigars, a desk lamp and his morning mail.
Using a letter opener, he carefully opened one envelope after another before finally opening the one that was about to change his life for the immediately future. Despite receiving such a request though, his demeanor had not changed. After leaving the letter, Lavans shoved it in one of his desk's drawers, beside one of his handguns.
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A Few Days Later
Richard had arrived at the designated spot. There was no mention of training recruits or any other field ops, so he wore black loafers, dark khaki slacks, a black, long-sleeve, silk shirt and a leather aviator jacket that was featureless - in contrast to the identical one in his den, which had rank insignia, pins, medals and a nametag - and kept his long, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail. Sitting in the waiting room area, he pretended to read a magazine, his dark shades hiding his eyes, waiting for the moment that the secretary, or someone he assumed was the secretary, would buzz him in and tell him Mister or Miss Such-And-Such was ready to see him.
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Oberst
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Post by Oberst on Jun 11, 2020 6:25:31 GMT -6
The meeting place was unsurprisingly this quaint office inside the town hall where Lavans would come face to face with Chairwoman Isabel Brandt- a face he would most certainly recognize since she was a public figure. Isabel had been elected into office three years earlier after building a career based entirely on getting the Federation out of Martian affairs. It had been a uphill battle in the beginning that had eventually lead to this open conflict.
Her outfit was a simple maroon business get up with a skirt that reached her knees, a matching coat and a white under shirt. In the right breast of her coat she wore a golden pin depicting the Martian Zeon crest which was just a more stylized version of the old principality one. Isabel traveled without security inside these colonies in the interior. She was after all a humble civil servant, it would look bad if she walked around with hired goons keeping everyone away from her.
" Good day and welcome, please have a seat." She would offer the tall blond man a comfortable leather chair wit a padded backrest. " As you may be aware life on these colonies as never been what you'd call easy." There had been some food shortages in the past, mostly attributed to the Federation hiring and equipping pirates that would attempt to sack their trade convoys coming from the colonies on Earth and Jupiter. Isabel had been expecting the Olympus mons railgun to be the deterrent she'd needed to keep the Federation from intervening directly but it had been severely damage by a daring strike lead by a single Federation ship long before the Martian fleet could be relocated to the interior airspace.
Nevertheless, when a larger Federation force at Deimos had shown up, the space fortress defenses and more numerous amount of ships allowed them to blunt that larger force, albeit a steep price. With a conflict in full swing her hand was forced to pour treasury into the space forces which had begun the war with less than 30 Musaka cruisers and a dozen capital ships, all of them Neo Zeon legacy models that had only been very recently given upgrades centered around their aging sensor arrays.
" It would have never occurred to me to ask for your help if the situation was under control. I can't exactly offer you an hefty paycheck like your past employers did." Mars Zeon was not as wealthy as the Federation and that was noticeable in every day life. " Where I am getting at is; would yo be willing to instruct a class of our officers in your craft? I won't be sending you raw recruits, of course. These are men and women that have already faced the enemy so you can skip the basics." All she could offer the man was the joy of working on his field once again.
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Post by Zedic on Jun 12, 2020 21:29:16 GMT -6
Richard followed Isabel Brandt into her office and sat down in the seat she gestured to - though not without giving it a quick lookover first. Upon sitting, he assumed a professional posture, resting both his wrists on the chair's arms, rather than relaxing at all. However, his face still kept a not-quite-a-smile look. He thought such an expression was disarming, but truth be told, he was enjoying himself. It was a good change from the mundane.
Ms. Chairwoman Brandt laid it all out to Lavans. She explained the situation, though the attack was probably all over the news. Maybe. Then came the offer, which Lavans was expecting: to train her soldiers.
"You're not asking me to train pilots, I take it? You want me to help train your elite special forces, is that right?" Before she could answer, Lavans was already considering the option and stroked his chin thoughtfully. He was about to refuse, but then again accepting the offer wouldn't make him a traitor. No, it was the Federation who had betrayed him and every other solider and decent human being a long time ago. No hope in changing it, of purifying it from within. Maybe if he could train Mar's special forces he could save innocent lives. Or maybe shape and mold other soldiers after his own heart.
"Alright, I'll do it. No big paycheck is necessary." Lavans then clasped his hands together over his lap, wrapping all his fingers together save for his index fingers and thumbs, the tips of which were touching, making it almost like Richard had an imaginary gun in his hands. Then he asked what appeared to be an awful topic question while leaning back in his chair. "Tell me about your political rivals, please, Ms. Chairwoman."
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Oberst
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Post by Oberst on Jun 14, 2020 15:09:28 GMT -6
" My political opposition is not a concern right now. Everyone knows we have to kick out the Federation out of our territory first before we indulge in petty squabbling." Isabel figured convincing this man to work for them was not going to be so straightforward. Lavans was the type of people she wasn't particularly fond of but this was a time of tribulations and one had to shed their own prejudice for the greater good. She wasn't going to allow him to continue on this same topic since she needed him primarily to be an asset in helping the raise their own special forces operatives first and foremost, not understanding his sudden fascination with the political arena. Martian chairmen served for 6 years and weren't allowed to run for re-election. Once they served a term in office it was mandated by their own law to keep them from running ever again no matter the position.
" While some of my detractors sit comfortable at home, I've been touring the battlefield in more than one occasion. The armed forces are loyal to me and that's what matters the most right now." Isabel was not a stranger to visiting the beleaguered space fortress of Deimos in her own dual-seat Doven Wolf. She would go from post to post only with a small escort in order to act as a morale booster and also see with her own eyes the realities of combat.
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Post by Zedic on Jun 17, 2020 2:49:28 GMT -6
"My political opposition is not a concern right now. Everyone knows we have to kick out the Federation out of our territory first before we indulge in petty squabbling," the Chairwoman would say. Lavans leaned forward a bit, resting his chin on his clasped hands and crossing his legs. He let her finish, paying attention to every word, running it and different scenarios over in his mind. She finally followed up with, "While some of my detractors sit comfortable at home, I've been touring the battlefield in more than one occasion. The armed forces are loyal to me and that's what matters the most right now."
"I bet at least one of your rivals would accept funding and maybe other help from the Federation in order to help oust you. Media is another big threat. They could potentially pay or blackmail big media pundits to portray you in a not-so-flattering light. It's what I would do. Hell, it's what I used to help do, if you recall. Not sure if the Federation is smart enough to do that though. Usually they're more dumb and blunt about things. Remember the Titans?" Lavans leaned back into his chair again, keeping his legs crossed and his hands clasped. He paused for a moment before adding, "Keep an eye on your rivals and make sure the media is controlled, but don't control it too tightly, or that can have bad consequences. My advice is look at the flow of money in and out of Mars, see who is paying who. Back when I did covert ops, we used lots of dummy corporations to pay people we didn't want to be seen directly involved with."
Richard looked off to the side, perhaps out a window (if there were any) and into the outside world. This was his home now, and these were his people. Weren't they? Wasn't this home now? He finally looked back at the Chairwoman and nodded. "Like I said, no big pay check is needed. I'll help you. When and where do we get started? Am I training pilots or is it strictly covert ops training?"
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Post by Oberst on Jun 18, 2020 18:10:29 GMT -6
The chairwoman had resigned herself to silence. An uncomfortable silence that would make it evidently clear she did not wish to discuss these matters any further She was well acquainted with the psychopathic tendencies a mind like his operated which she found to be repulsive at best, nonetheless, at dire times such as these they were currently going through it was perhaps a necessary evil. All she needed to do was bleed the Federation expeditionary forces dry but for that they would need special forces of their own.
" Special ops training entirely. Our current pilots are plenty experience but you are well aware it takes more than that to be successful special operative." Martian officers of the highest caliber were certainly resourceful but their strength laid somewhere else. Covert ops weren't their forte and their intelligence service was lacking at best. Isabel would offer him a shuttle to Deimos since all of the pilots he'd be imparting classes to were currently posted in this installation. The brunt of the Martian fleet remained in station around, keeping an eye out for any other incursions like the one half a month ago. The fortress defenses had been able to blunt the attack on their own with the clash ending with no ship losses for the Martians.
Mars Zeon naval strenght remained low with only eight battleships currently in service. Out of those eight only three remained on station at Deimos- The Rewloola class Hessen, The Gwanban 'Saarland' and the massive Gwadan class assault carrier 'Bayern' which served as the flagship. The rest of the Deimos fleet was composed with auxiliary ships such as tankers and a small light cruiser screening force which they used mainly for electronic warfare and early warning duties.
The first class would be in fact be the pilots of the Hessen and the Saarland, all of them middle aged and holding officer ranks. All of them had already seen combat in more than one occasion. Martians ships weren't well staffed since 50 people were expected to run a ship that would take 300 hands in the EFSF, as such everyone had to be ble to perform a wide array of functions. Their ships made up for this with automation but even then these weren't self running vessels.
Captain Isami Aika of the Saarland had more in common with a senior management worker at a company than he did a hardened commando trained to eat his guts, nevertheless he'd proven himself capable enough to put a hurt into the Federation battlegroup, leading them into a kill zone during the clash earlier. The Captain of the Hessen, also present in the class was a woman in her thirties named Erica Reyes, an accomplished pilot on her own right against pirates and while she'd brought down a couple of Federation mobile suits she still wasn't exactly commando material. This odd band of misfits was without a doubt the best Mars had to offer and this was not the time to get selective. Chairwoman Brandt was present looking over Lavan's shoulder, ready to refute any complaint he might have had. Their uniforms resembled classic Zeon dress albeit with a more stylized crest, they were less ornate but retained the same overall aesthetic.
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