Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 9

Diplomatic Hell Hole.

Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.

"Are we in the right place?" the stranger worried.

"I'm afraid so. Anais, you need to leave."

"Not until you tell me what is going on here," she sizzled.

"She's not here to have sex, if that's what you worried about," I retorted. "Wait, are you here to have sex with me?"

"I barely know you."

"That rarely stops me," I muttered.

"He's a master of bedroom antics," Pamela praised me. "He's pretty much at a loss at doing anything else."

"Thanks Grandma," I griped.

"Your welcome, Grandson."

"We, are here to meet someone," the stranger hedged.

"You came to the right place," Pamela preempted me. "He's definitely someone."

"Fine, redo. I'm Cáel Nyilas," (deep breathe), "NOHIO, HCIESI-NDI, U HAUL, Magyarorszag es Erdely Hercege plus a bunch of other honorifics that have yet to be confirmed. I am single-handedly bringing back medievalism to the center of Europe and the Near East. The woman to my left is Pamela Pale, and she really is my bodyguard. The woman to my right is Sgt. Anais Saint-Amour, RCMP, my ex-lover and the person that needs to leave   right now."

"I'm not sure I should leave at this moment," Anais shifted possessively. I had to recall earlier this morning, the part where we'd broken up by mutual consent. Yep. That had really happened. I had thought I was whittling down my current list of paramours. Why do the Goddesses hate me so?

"Told you, she can't give up that cock," Pamela whispered.

"As you can see, I have limited control of my life," I told the strange woman. "I know you are here to meet somebody who isn't me. Now you know who I am. Who are you and your companions?"

"I'm Ms. Quincy."

"Sorry; I'm on a first name basis with everyone I meet," I interrupted.

"What's your rank, Honey?" Pamela added.

"What makes you think,?"

"She doesn't think. That's what makes her so dangerous." I explained.

"Hey now," Pamela faux-complained.

"Okay. She's a fledgling telepath, or medium," I shrugged.

"Captain, Zelda Quincy."

"In case you are mesmerized by her tits," Pamela tapped me, "she's packing some serious hardware."

"One of those personal defense gizmos?" I leaned Pamela's way.

"Close, but no cigar. She's my kind of girl, big 'bang-bang', back-up at the small of her back and knife in her boot."

"What!" Zelda gulped.

"She's his knife-fighting instructor," Anais answered drolly.

"Are you Special Forces?" Zelda regarded my mentor.

"Nah, I got kicked out for a consistent failure to observe even the loosest Rules Of Engagement. I'm a free-spirit."

"Oh, you're a sniper," Zelda nodded.

"I like this one," Pamela smiled.

"Ah, thank you." Then, over her shoulder, "I think we are in the right place." Zelda entered the room, followed by a Hispanic panther of a man (kind of like a tanned, slightly shorter Chaz without the cool accent) wearing a long coat, and a Subcontinent-cast woman who looked at everyone as if she expected us to sprout fangs, or start quoting the Koran any second now. She obviously was a brain seconded to this mission very much against her will.

The fourth person had that cagey 'when my lips move, I'm lying' look while seemingly unhappy with her current assignment. The heavy implication was that the lady was a career diplomat. Considering our current company and who we were talking to, she was State Department. She was in her late 30's or early 40's and giving off the sensation she had devoted so much to her career that she was starting to wonder if that was all that life had to offer.

The fifth member was a military man clearly uncomfortable about what he was doing here, thus not a spook. His off-the-rack suit wasn't terrible, so he expected to socialize somewhat while performing his duties. He also looked like a man who expected other people to speak half-truths and obfuscated lies as easily as they breathed. Numbers three, four and five were dressed for the weather and unarmed.

All of this meant they were good at what they did, though they probably didn't know the particulars of what was expected of them. They had their marching orders. Those orders were about to be made irrelevant in the company they would be keeping. The latter weren't the 'doing it by rote' kind of people they would normally be dealing with.

"I bet you she's a doctor," I murmured to Pamela, "she's with State and he's some sort of Foreign Service type."

"I bet the first guy is Air Force," she countered.

"Like one of those Para-rescue guys?"

"No. More like one of those Battlefield Air Operations guys, I'm guessing," she corrected me.

"That guy?" I nodded to the final guy. "Pentagon wonk?"

"More likely he's one of those embassy guys. I'm going to take an educated leap here, Office of Military Cooperation, Mongolia?"

"That is pretty clever of you. Kazakhstan. Major Justin Colbert."

"I bet some people in the White House, Pentagon and Langley are disappointed with you right now," I reasoned. His jaw grew tight.

"Don't worry, Major," Pamela grinned. "We consider that a good thing. We don't like the people in charge and have a low opinion of their opinion on just about everything, including their habit of blaming the blameless for their government's fuck ups."

"Who are these people?" the first man whispered to Quincy.

"She's a telepath." That was Zelda

"She's a psychic-medium." That was Anais.

"She can see through time." That was me. "Nice to meet you. Who are you?"

"Chris Diaz. Lieutenant Colonel, USAF."

"Dr. Saira Yamin," the second woman introduced herself. "Asia Pacific Center for Security Studies. Are you the man from Johnston Island?"

"Why yes, yes I am," I beamed.

"The APCSS is in Waikiki, Hawaii," Pamela educated me. "Your arrival probably cost her some prime surfing time."

"I was more interested in the fact that he survived a plane crash in a Category Four Cyclone," she admitted.

"Mother Nature hates me. No matter how hard I try, she refuses to kill me," I confessed. "My suffering is an endless source of amusement to that bitch."

"That, that wasn't the helpful answer I was looking for," she stammered.

"So, Lt. Colonel Chris Diaz, you must be with JSOC, I have a deep and abiding respect for you guys. If you need something, just ask," I greeted him. "Captain Zelda, you are not with JSOC."

"She's with the DCS ~ that is the Defense Clandestine Service," Pamela kept going. "Zelda, you love being in your uniform, you're proud, yet happy with the concept of dying in an unmarked grave for Constitution and Country. You are too old to have been in the first female class at Ranger School, so that means no 'in the field' JSOC for you. You've gotten around that stone wall by joining the US Defense Department's own little pack of killers."

"Also, you felt it was necessary to bring a Benelli M4-11707. That's a close-in action shotgun, but a bit over-kill considering the paper-thin walls in this building. That tells me you are used to being in the kinds of places where such a tool is a necessity. Or in other words, since you think you are meeting a band of terrorists, you brought along your favorite toy."

"Your personal weapon is a SIG Sauer P229R DAK in .357 which is a new weapon still under trial by the US Army and Air Force. Your boot dagger is ceramic so it will pass a cursory exam, or scan. You hate the idea of being trapped on a public aircraft weaponless. You have also given up killing power for a proper balance for throwing. I like a forward-thinking gal."

"Air Force ~ you've recently come back from Asia, most likely Tibet. It shows in your breathing brought about by a close call with Altitude Sickness. The only reason for an Air Force guy to be here is because he's familiar with the Khanate military and you are not US Army, or Marine Corp Special Forces. I know the type."

"You went with the MP5K in the standard 9mm, so you are more interested in sending bullets down range than looking into someone's face as you kill them. You may be a 'light' Colonel, which means you are almost somebody. What your higher-ups haven't appreciated is that our guests will respect you because they are like that ~ remembering past friends and comrades in arms. Of greater importance, you have Cáel’s gratitude which will count for more than you currently believe."

I pledged then and there to be as good as Pamela at determining that kind of stuff before I died. She had assured me it was as much a matter of psychology as eagle-eyed perception. People were often a type that gravitated to various forms of destruction, be they old school, or going for the latest gadget.

"I told you all that firepower was excessive," State softly chastised her associates (what they really were, not the underlings she saw them as).

"So, you appeared to have forgotten to tell us your name," I regarded the State lass.

"Nisha Desai Biswal. I'm with the government."

"Oh, Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asian Affairs, I've examined your website," I told her. It clearly pissed her off somewhat that I so swiftly disregarded her crude attempt at subtle manipulation.

"Hey. I've got some real enemies at State, so it pays to know who might be the next suit trying to cock me over," I explained. I had to prioritize. It would take some serious effort to convince Zelda to have a MFF three-way straight out the gate and she was definitely the hotter number.

"Major, you came here unarmed," Pamela noted. "That won't do. They expect you to be armed because you are a warrior, damn it. Cáel get him one of your Glock 22's."

"Gotcha," I nodded. I went to my room, tipped away the false back to my closet (that Havenstone had installed recently so Odette wouldn't accidently fire off one of my weapons) and retrieved one of my spare Glocks, but not the one with the laser sight. Such over-the-top fancy gear would be inappropriate. I only gave him one mag. If he couldn't get the job done with 15 rounds, he wouldn't have a chance to reload.

Mind you, I took two in a twin-rig shoulder holster and four 22 round magazines, because I tend to shoot two-handed which doesn't exactly give you a bullseye every time. I returned to our crowded living room, handed the Major his weaponry, and then directed the US group to the far side of the room (towards Timothy's bedroom. Saira and Nisha took the couch.

Because this tiny space wasn't crowded enough, there was a knock at the door. I checked. It was Juanita, oh yeah, my real bodyguard.

"Listen up everybody," I announced to the room. "This is my other bodyguard, my official one. Her names is Juanita Leya Antonio Garza, she's from the Dominican Republic via Buenos Aires and she is armed, so don't freak out." I opened the door.

"What is going on?" Juanita hissed.

"I'm having a private meeting with a few heavily armed friends. The other side to this party hasn't arrived yet. Why don't you come in?" She came in.

"Why didn't you warn me?" she whispered her complaint.

"Long night, worse wake-up, needed to do some soul-searching. Pamela was looking after me, then this came up and I forgot. I apologize," I lowered my head in shame. Juanita was only trying to do the job she'd been entrusted with and by not thinking of her, I was making that so much harder.

I made the introductions, first names only.

"Juanita, Anais, Pamela; please slip into the kitchenette," I suggested.

Anais "Why?"

Juanita "Where are you going to be?"

Pamela "Sure. I'm starving. I'm going to raid the fridge."

"Anais, because I need my faction in one place. Juanita, I will be refereeing this meeting, so I will have to remain in the living room, roughly six feet from you." It was really a small apartment. "Pamela, if it is edible, it isn't mine and you'll have to replace it."

Great Caesar's Ghost! No wonder Big Wigs had their personal assistants handle this pre-meeting crap. I was on my last two fucking nerves and one of those was already stressed and tender. And the real reason for being here hadn't even arrived yet.

"Why am I in your faction?" Anais mulled over threateningly.

"Because you haven't walked out that door. There are going to be three sides to this meeting, not three plus Anais. That is the way it is going to be. Now, are you going to behave, or are Juanita and Pamela going to toss you out?"

"You are threatening me!"

"Finally catching on to that, aren't you, Sweetie?" Pamela chimed in.

"I'm only staying because I believe you are in trouble," Anais grumped.

"Why is she (Anais) here?" Nisha inquired heatedly. "This is supposed to be a very, very private encounter."

"I know Anais. I don't know you. I trust Anais with my well-being despite the fact she has numerous reasons to distrust me. She's staying because she is a straight arrow. That's good enough for me."

"But is she going to keep her mouth shut about what happens here today?" Nisha pressed.

"Anais, this is a clandestine meeting that isn't going to be recorded by anybody so, barring a crime being committed, you can never discuss this with anyone who isn't already in the room. Agreed?"

Pause.

"I agree," she nodded. I really was going to have to fuck her again. Not today. Well, maybe not today; I had to keep my options open. Her investigator mind was going into overdrive. Give it a week and she'd be knocking on my door late one night. Inquisitive, truth-hungry dames are like that, trust me. Then it would be 'bask in my genius' sex. It had been a while since I'd experienced that, with Lady Yum-Yum.

There was another knock at the door. I checked before Juanita could do the checking for me, in case someone was going to shoot me through the door. Fuck it. I was going to talk to Timothy about moving. Him, me and Odette. I couldn't give those two up. It was Kazak bookends. I opened up and invited them in. It turned out they had names besides Bookends #1 and #2, Nuro and Roman.

Nuro (I think) checked out the rooms while Roman (I was pretty sure) kept an eye on my guests. I made introductions, first names only and specifying who was with who. Technically, they could trust my side because I was the Great Khan's brother and thus my servants were his servants. Technically.

Iskender came next followed by OT. A woman I didn't know (sadly, not OT's daughter) came in behind him while the other two quintuplets stayed in the hallway. Iskender and I hugged.

"Ulı Khaan s yikti ağası," he smiled. That was 'Prince-something'. My Kazak was a bit rusty. He then whispered into my ear. "OT bows to you first. His title is Hongtaiji." What?

"Ulı Khaan s yikti ağası," OT bowed.

"Hongtaiji Oyuun T m rbaatar," I bowed back. I remembered I had to rise first. It was an etiquette thing. In retrospect, Iskender had stretched the bounds of tradition by hugging me, his titular superior. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"I thank you for your hospitality," he 'grinned'. His face wasn't made for that gesture so that faint gesture came across as rather unnatural.

My mind finally finished translating what Iskender and OT had called me. It wasn't 'prince'. It was 'beloved brother of the Great Khan'. Mother fucker!

"Wait," Justin, the military attach  guy muttered, "we are here to meet this guy?" indicating me.

"What do you mean?" Saira questioned.

"The title Mr. Nyilas was identified with means 'beloved brother of the Great Khaan'," he explained. "The Kazakhs don't go tossing honorifics like that around. This guy," again pointing at me, "is a really important somebody."

"Thanks for dropping this grenade in my lap, OT," I joked. "I'll get you for this, and your little yak too."

"Odette is going to be so miffed that she missed this," Pamela chuckled.

"Mr. Nyilas," Zelda began.

"Please, call me Cáel. It is how I roll."

"Cáel, can I ask you a stupid question?"

"Go right ahead," Pamela snorted. "Cáel does stupid real well. It is a critical part of his skill set. It makes him adorable instead of annoying. Trust me, you'll learn that soon enough."

Too much 'trust me' was flying around in a room where nobody trusted anybody.

"Thanks for that encouragement, Teach," I grumbled. "Ask away, Captain Zelda."

"Why are you playing this game with us?"

"I wasn't. Until thirty seconds ago I was sure I was here totally as a spectator," I gripped. "My buddy," the word dripped with sarcasm, "Temujin likes dumping these kinds of surprises on me."

"Did you mean what Ms. Pale said about you feeling you owed me?" Chris asked.

"Absolutely."

"We need help defusing this Thailand crisis before a shooting war begins."

"What do you suggest?"

"We want the Khanate to back down," Chris stated firmly.

"I thought we had agreed that I would spearhead this delegation," Nisha reminded Chris.

"I think the situation had evolved and we need a different approach," Chris insisted.

"You should listen to the Lieutenant Colonel," I advised. "He knows a whole lot more about what is going on than you do."

"Why don't you explain it to us?" she began her weevil-ling.

"You are engaging in linguistic niceties with men who have bled together, Ms. Biswal," I instructed. "Not that Chris and I have bled on the same battlefield, we have shed blood in the same cause; and that cause has been bringing our two nations, the Khanate and the US, together. The Khanate owes Chris for his efforts on our behalf and we pay our debts."

"How so?" Nisha asked.

"National Security stuff," I evaded. "If you don't know, you shouldn't know and you probably don't want to know. Suffice it to say, the Khanate is willing to listen to Lt. Colonel Diaz's request as a friend."

"But he doesn't speak for the United States Government," she corrected.

"Why not?" I riposted. "He's dealt with the Khanate longer than you have. He has a clue about the mindset of their rank and file."

"But does he know their leadership?" she persisted.

"I don't know. Chris, do you think you have a handle on me?"

"Are you really capable of talking for the Khanate government?" Nisha preempted Chris. What she left unsaid was 'are you culpable in their atrocities?'

"Let's find out," I then looked over my shoulder. "Hongtaiji Oyuun T m rbaatar, will my words and wishes reach my brother's ear?"

"That is why I am here," he replied.

"Don't you have the authority to speak for your leader?" she grilled OT. Nisha was relentless trying to stay in the limelight. "Aren't you a diplomat?"

"There is no need to insult the man," Pamela snidely commented.

"I am one of many voices that provide information to the Great Khan. I am not his brother. Cáel Nyilas is and has already proved his familial affection by proposing Operation Funhouse and brought whole nations as gifts," OT schooled her. "He is gifted with both tactical and strategic insight as well as sharing the Great Khan's love for his people and his hopes for their eventual freedom."

"I didn't think you were a soldier," Zelda looked me over.

"Oh no," I wove off that insinuation. "I've never been a real soldier and am unworthy of that distinction. I know quite a few who have earned that title and they scare the crap out of me. I mean, they go looking for trouble. In my case, trouble comes looking for me. I'm damn lucky to still be alive and that's the damn truth."

"Bullshit," Pamela coughed.

"What was that, Artemisia?" I winked at her.

"Bitch," she laughed "My men have become women, and my women men. At least you didn't call me Cassandra."

"Well, she's Greek (a deadly insult to all Amazons), but you could be her Evil Twin because everyone believes whatever you say."

"Can we get down to business?" Chris inquired.

"Damn," Pamela shook her head. "They haven't been paying attention."

"What does that mean?" Zelda griped.

"Iskender, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?" I asked.

"Not a clue, Exalted One," he stood there like a stone statue. Note, the Khanate contingent really were standing there like the Altai Mountains, doing nothing. You had to carefully examine them to see that they did indeed breathe and blink.

"Use small words," Pamela advised.

"You really are a rude misanthrope," Anais told Pamela.

"Do you know what's going on?" Pamela volleyed.

"No."

"Then sit back and watch how the madness works," she snickered. "It is all you, Cáel."

"Okay. One; how did Artemisia escape the battle of Salamis?" I began. Nothing.

"Oh," Justin nodded. "She rammed an allied ship to make the pursuing Athenians think she was an ally. What does that have to do with our current predicament?"

"Achieve your ends by using violence as a distraction," I sighed. "The Khanate will invade Thailand in," I looked to OT, "tomorrow?" He nodded.

"How does that help us?" Nisha complained.

"Second example, Cassandra. She saw the truth through all illusions and falsehoods and no one believed her. Now, reverse that."

Pause.

"We are waiting," Saira finally joined the conversation. I could hear those little microprocessors inside her noggin firing electrons at light speed.

"We fight a phony war. The Khanate and their buddies invade in a lightning campaign that appears to be successful. Shit like attacking the opposition where they ain't. Things that look epic on CNN where some retired colonel, no offense..."

"None taken," Chris responded.

"Where some colonel talks about seizing resources, severed supply lines and encirclement. We, the Khanate, bomb shit like bridges and supply dumps, things with no civilians to get killed. On the downside, to make this work the Khanate needs to put some level of force into Bangkok."

"That will get civilians killed," Nisha reminded me, unnecessarily.

"Civilians are getting killed right now by their own government. This time they will get a chance to strike back," I stated firmly. "The Thai protestors aren't cowards. They are just grossly outgunned. We can change that."

"How does that help the United States?" Nisha queried.

"The US gets to come in and save the day," I sighed. "The US can t get there until the day after, so you don't look bad about letting the first 24 hours of brutality happen."

"Oh," Zelda blinked.

"The US gets to end the fighting that the Khanate has no desire to continue. The US brings peace, while whomever takes over owes the Khanate. Both sides look good. Both sides claim victory. The President gets a second Nobel Peace Prize (psychic, aren't I?). The US gathers some regional allies like Malaysia, the ROC and the Philippines along with our Marines to ensure free and fair elections. The Khanate isn't seen to be backing down against the Titan of Western Civilization. They are working with them to bring about a better world."

"Win-win," Saira nodded in agreement.

"The Khanate is still an autocratic tyranny," Nisha commented.

"As opposed to the People's Republic's oligarchical tyranny?" Chris countered.

"Agreed," Saira said. "I now think we should work with the Khanate to bring stability to Central Asia which which was impossible while those member nations were being squeezed between Russia, Europe, China and India."

"What are you a doctor of?" I asked.

"I specialize in 'failed states', among other things," Saira grinned.

"This could still turn into one bloody cluster-fuck," Zelda mused.

"My peopled don't have the resources to devastate Thailand," OT finally spoke. "If you, the US, agrees to intervene on our timetable, you will have our thanks, off the record, of course."

"How do we know this isn't some ruse to allow the Khanate to overthrow Thailand's existing government?" Justin questioned.

"You have my word," I replied. No one said anything for several heartbeats.

"Really?" Nisha balked.

"Mr. Nyilas, Cáel, do you give me the Great Khan's word?" Chris studied me intently.

"Without reservation," I answered. "For what you have done for us and more, the Great Khan will honor this deal. We and the Thai's will do the bleeding. You will get your accolades. We avoid a pointless clashing of forces, which is why we are all here today."

"I will give you my written recommendation in a few hours," Saira told Nisha.

Chris stepped forward to shake my hand. He was an alpha-type alright. I gave as good as I got. His eyes bore into mine, looking for a faltering of will.

"What did you do in Romania?"

"I got a lot of good men killed."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Nisha squawked. "A handshake, a pat on the back and the deals done? Since when did our democratic republic do business this way? He admitted he got men killed in Romania. What is to say this won't be Romania writ large?"

"Ms. Biswal, he told the truth. He got good men killed and he isn't happy about it. I would be worried if he claimed one bit of glory from that episode. He didn't."

"Nisha," I took a deep breathe, "When you unleash men with weapons, nothing is assured. Maybe the Thai government will see the hate coming their way and back down. Maybe the people will resist the intrusion. Maybe the Khanate's forces will get slaughtered at the starting line. It isn't like they have enough time to deploy enough forces to win a protracted war."

"What happens if the Khanate decides it won't go?" she continued.

"Then they get destroyed on the ground in a war of attrition," Chris answered for me. "He's right. They can't bring enough in the time allotted to completely overwhelm the roughly 120,000 members of the Royal Thai Army that have remained loyal to the regime."

"In three days they will be out of fuel, shells, rockets and bullets. It is logistics, Ms. Biswal," Zelda piled it on. "The Khanate war-fighting systems are not NATO compatible. That means they can't simply capture more material as they penetrate the frontiers. If they overstay their welcome, we can launch missile strikes against their fuel depots. The combat devolves back to World War I and that's a style of war they can't afford to fight."

"What about stopping the Khanate from invading in the first place?" Nisha wouldn't give up.

"Had the US acknowledged the Khanate, none of this would have happened, Ms. Biswal," I became snappish. "Neither superpower talked to the other until other commitments had been made."

"If you think you can come in and start dictating Khanate policy, you are dreadfully mistaken. The US doesn't have the power, or the resolve," I glared at her. "Don't try convincing the Khanate that isn't the case. We know better."

"You don't know what the US is capable of," she snapped back.

"Abandoning Iraq with a fractured pseudo-democratic process? Abandoning Afghanistan without destroying the Taliban? The Syrian Civil War? The Donbass Crisis? The collapse of Libya? Boko Haram? Somalia? Yemen? Exactly how has the US's power and resolve solved any of those issues?" I countered.

"Ms. Biswal," OT spoke again. "We are willing to create a desert and call it 'Peace'. Our enemies know that. Your unwillingness to do so is neither a strength nor a weakness. It is a hallmark of your society in the same way that 'Total War' is a hallmark of ours. We are more than willing to leave you to manage the Peace. Let us manage the War against the forces opposed to civilized discourse."

"As ugly and disagreeable as it is, we are willing to keep creating pyramids of skulls on every street corner until either they learn their lesson, or we kill them all. Let us do that and you will have your global stability and reap the economic benefits and accolades of Pax Americana. We are not your enemy. We are precisely the ally you need to keep the peace and we will do that, if you let us."

"To allow barbarism is to become barbarians," Saira mused.

"That is complete fiction," I scoffed. "The United States didn't become communist because it allied with the Soviet Union in World War II. Truman didn't become Stalin. The enemy of my enemy is my friend is older than recorded history."

"It is the Carrot and the Stick on a Global basis," Justin agreed. "Listen to the gentle words of the West, or you will end up feeling the wrath of the East."

"As long as the Khanate accepts the limitations of is role," Saira added, "this might work. Please understand there will be factions in the Western Democracies who will not accept that status quo. It is not in the nature of our societies to stifle dissent."

"Is it possible to get any political concessions from the Khanate's leadership?" Justin requested. "A pledge to hold some level of democratic elections? A Constitution with some strong provisions to protect individual rights and liberties would be nice."

"Justin, in case your bosses missed it, the Khanate is still at a state of war with the PRC," I shook my head. "With their limited experience with democratic government throughout most of the Khanate's territories, that would be madness."

"With limited concessions to the Imperial State, we have not interfered with the politics of Albania, Armenia, Georgia and Turkey. We are never going to become a Western-style democracy. We have had limited rule by consensus long before White Men arrived in the Western Hemisphere," OT informed them.

"Discounting the Irish Monks, Vikings and Knights Templar," Pamela interjected.

"If you say so," OT gave a minuscule bow to Pamela. "Long before your nation was anything more than the scribbled history of a long-faded Greek city-state, we had meritocracies, oligarchies of senior statesmen & warriors, thinkers and religious leaders, and we had codified judicial moral equality into the political arena. We have a far superior record of religious and minority freedom, of genuine multi-culturalism plus a deeper understanding of the arts and crafts as a means of uniting disparate peoples. We find your claims of cultural superiority to be childish."

"Oh, snap," I snickered. "You get'em, OT."

"I bet the boys in Foggy Bottom felt that pimp-slap," Pamela agreed.

"I bet the bronzed skull of some Harvard dean just fell off its pedestal."

"They are called 'busts'," Anais groaned. "With a name like that, how could you forget it?"

"So true," I concurred. "All this responsibility must have clouded my normally hedonistic vocabulary."

"That doesn't change the fact that you have employed biological warfare and genocide in this current day and age," Justin pointed out.

"Tell that to our Native Americans," I snorted. "They are easy to find. They live in trailer parks in whatever blasted Hell Hole we stuck them in, or in their casinos where they are buying back their country, one rube at a time. Ask them if they've gotten over it."

"We don't claim to be perfect," Justin insisted.

"No, we merely claim to have the only correct form of government, economic policy and schools of philosophical, political, scientific and educational thought," I pointed out.

"We definitely should revive ethical utilitarianism," Pamela slapped a fist into her palm. "Oh, and the guillotine. Work houses for orphans and grist mills for the disabled, and A Modest Proposal for those chronically unemployed and terminally homeless, yes, and,"

"Pamela, what is it with you today?" I snickered.

"It is nearly sunset,"

"Ah, and you haven't killed anyone yet."

"You know how cranky I get when I don't get my daily dose of homicide."

"Are you two done?" Anais frowned. She did that a lot around me.

"And you don't hand out Mini-Uzi's to your preschoolers," Pamela glowered. "What is wrong with you people?"

Pause, waiting for that punch line that was never coming. See, it was more difficult to sense Pamela was an immediate threat to your health if you thought she was completely off her rocker.

"Hmm, well, on that note, ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a deal. Chris and Justin, I will leave you with my loyal Iskender to work out the gory details. Who wants to grab dinner?" I inquired.

"Are you serious?" Nashi gasped.

"Oh yeah. I had the Russian invasion of Manchuria figured out in this amount of time and Manchuria is way bigger than Thailand." Was it? I didn't know. Geography was not one of those subjects which gets you laid.

"What do you have in mind?" Zelda inquired.

"Whatever you want."

{1 am, Sunday, August 31st ~ 8 Days to go}

"How did I end up in bed with you?" Zelda sighed happily, her body splayed halfway over mine and her head resting on my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

"You aren't the first girl to ask me that question."

On the other side, Anais moaned in her sleep. Yeah, she was over me. Abso-fucking-lutely. If you recall, she'd try anything once. I convinced her the military babes were totally different than that Goth chick we'd blown the mind of back in Montreal.

Zelda was with me because I had caught her in a lie. She claimed to be a lesbian when I first hit on her. She was adamant. I destroyed her with incontrovertible evidence.

A) She hadn't scoped out Anais when she came in. A glance didn't count and Anais oozed sexy when she was angry, which was most of the time.

B) She hadn't scoped out Juanita's figure when said worthy went to the kitchenette. I look for such things and Juanita has thighs to die for.

C) When I told her she had a wicked sense of humor, she blushed. Honestly, lesbians rarely care about strange men complimenting their personalities.

D) Then I double-downed by asking her if she preferred a shower, or bath. She said shower (because that's the butch thing to say). When I asked her 'when was the last time she'd had a bubble bath', she blushed again. Lesbians don't like it when a man imagines them naked. Straight chicks, unless you are a creepy, stalker guy, like it when men fantasize about them swathed in bubbles, thus semi-clothed, thus not creepy.

E) In a final and fatal act of evasion, she asked a grumpy Anais what she liked about me. Anais was blunt.

"He can fucking hammer you all night, sneak in a romantic quickie in the shower, cook you a delicious breakfast then give you another round of mind-numbing intercourse up against the wall before you have to go to work. And still find the time and energy to fuck your neighbor."

Woot!

"So, this happens to you often?" she mused, it was a trap. She really wanted to know if I was an egotistical scumbag who took advantage of every woman I came across. At the same time, she wanted to know if I considered her a 'whoe' ~ a woman who gives up the goodies for free.

"Do you mean 'am I taking advantage of you'?" I replied.

"That is not what I asked," she persisted. That meant 'yes'.

"Let me see," I laid back and looked up at the ceiling. "I have a fiancée, six women I am close enough to to spend quality time with, a fuck-buddy who is a sweet girl and trusts me too much and a passel of ex-girlfriends who have found my infidelity to be reprehensible."

"Six women?" she frowned.

"Four co-workers (Rhada, Oneida, Yasmin and Buffy), the girlfriend of a co-worker who dumped her in a very public fashion (Brooke) and that woman's friend (Libra). She was the wing-chick who was stuck with me on a quadruple-date and was underwhelmed with me when we first met."

I didn't count my 'hook-ups' and I wasn't sure how to qualify Nicole.

"Ex's?"

"'No' is not a word in common usage in my vocabulary. I've dated a best friend's girl, a mother, sister and aunt of the same girlfriend, basically, I'm either highly immoral, incredibly loose, or a letch."

"Don't you take responsibility for any of those, relationships?"

"Hell yeah," I tilted her chin up so that we could make eye-contact. "I've never blamed a woman for taking out her frustrations on my flesh, ran away from a screaming fit (Big Lie!), or blamed them for any failing in our relationship. It is always my fault because I can't stay loyal."

"That's depressing," Zelda moped.

"Don't get me wrong. I don't find fault in any of the women I have spent time with. That is my problem, I find women fascinating; never boring, or bland. Quite frankly, it is a gift that I don't regret having. I may be a fuck-up, but I'm a fuck-up who will give you the very best attention."

"Full of yourself, much?" her attitude shifted. I had short-circuited her fears; I was a cheater, I confessed to it without shame because I was inexorably drawn to her beauty, personality and charm. With Anais around, I couldn't claim to be solely enchanted with Zelda, so I had to think quickly on my feet. After all, Zelda was energetic and had great stamina.

"I promised you pleasure," I countered. "Did I deliver?"

"Yes, you are full of yourself," she slapped my stomach. I wasn't full of myself. I was a confident sex machine.

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

"Wonderful sex, taking a chance with me, agreeing to a three-way, being awake after," I looked at the bed-table clock, "six hours."

"I run five miles a day," she bragged.

"I try to have ten hours of sex a day," I teased. Zelda slapped my stomach again. Anais stirred.

"Do any women like you, for any reason beyond your cock?"

"I'm considered loyal where sex is not concerned, reliable and brave," I offered.

"What happened in Romania?"

"Have you ever been in combat?"

"I've been in violent confrontations, but not a true firefight," she admitted.

"Hmm,"

"Is it something that you can't relate?" she asked.

"No. You are a soldier so you probably know more about combat than I do. It was, not chaotic at all. I never lost perspective of what was going on despite the bullets flying around. The Romanian Captain in charge knew his stuff, directed his company well and all I had to do was figure out where the terrorist leader was."

"What happened?" she perked up.

"I am here talking with you and he's in a morgue in Bucharest."

"Oh," She wanted more.

"I have to live with the knowledge that I set all of that in motion, Zelda. I convinced the Romanians that they had to confront that terror group before they moved on to their next target, me."

"I knew they would come after me and my friends, no matter where we were. Which would have ended up as a blood bath in some urban center. So I felt compelled to strike first. Based on information I provided, the Romanian Army sent two battalions, the 22nd and 24th, of the 6th Mountain Troops Brigade into battle."

"It was a massacre," I remembered sadly.

"But you won," she tried to comfort me.

"Of the four companies involved in the battle, the Romanians suffered nearly two hundred dead and wounded. I hardly consider it anything other than a massacre. Yes, we won. Only three of the terrorists escaped. Their leader died. I don't think I've ever felt so hollow in my life," I finished.

"Forty percent losses, that is horrific," she crawled on top of me.

"The kicker is the Romanians sent some men of the 24th to hunt me down when I was kidnapped. A squad was in the group that rescued me and my companion from Johnston Island. I thought they would never want to deal with me ever again."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. If they thought well enough of you to send their men out to rescue you, then you must have done right by them."

"Chaz said something like that too," I felt sheepish and sleepy.

"Chaz? Who is she?"

Honest to God, one day I want to find a girl who thinks I'm talking about another girl and asks if we can have a three-way, instead of trying to compare herself to this unknown person. Wait... I already had someone like that. Her name was Odette.

"Chaz is Color Sergeant Charles 'Chaz' Tomorrow of Her Majesty's SSR," I corrected her assumption.

"SSR? Those are some tough people. How do you know him?"

"Black Bag directives from the National Security Council, sworn to secrecy upon penalty of death, pinky-promise kind of stuff," I grinned. Maybe I wasn't all that sleepy after all.

"You really are a Man of Mystery," Zelda purred. She had truly exceptional stamina. "Maybe I can convince you to talk."

"Maybe I can find another use for my tongue," I countered and off we went. Somewhere along the process, Anais woke up and joined in.

It wasn't all fun and games. Anais' parting words were "You are a pig," then she sauntered out of my room and out of my life. Had she remembered to take her Serge with her, I would have bought the act. As it was,

"Is she always so volatile?" Zelda remarked.

"Volatile? That's not her being volatile. That's Anais being affectionate. Volatile usually is accompanied by thrown objects and bodily harm," I sighed happily. Meeting her one more time couldn't be all that bad, could it? Zelda looked hungry so I shoved that thought to the back of my mind and got to work.

That was the highlight of my Sunday. Zelda had to fly back to Washington D.C. and I had to go to work with JIKIT. It seemed that the Khanate and the US military were heading for a showdown. I unloaded all my Saturday's activities to the team and we got to work, no recriminations. I was the Khan's spiritual brother and sometimes that meant I had to do him favors.

I asked Addison when she thought he would return the favor. She laughed, then smiled and told me that wasn't how it worked. He was a world leader now and I was merely his kooky kinsman that he would keep throwing problems at until one day I broke. Then it would be some other poor saps turn.

Then she told me she was kidding and clearly the Great Khan thought the world of me. I chose to believe the second lie because it made me feel better, and it was promising to be a long weekend/start of the week.

Note: Geopolitical Developments

What follows are snippets of the Battle for Thailand that takes place late in the night of September 1stand continued into the early morning of September 3rd. If this does not interest you, you can rejoin Cáel’s exploits in four pages)

On the eve of battle, the Royal Thai High Command had decided to strip all but one armored unit from the 2nd Army in order to give the First Army's offensive against the rebels more of a punch. It's decision to strip the tank battalions from both their infantry divisions as well as the armored and one of the two mechanized regiments would prove to be disastrous. It was as if the leadership of the Royal Thai military were idiots.

The least economically valuable part of the country was the northeast which the 2nd Army warded. They had severely underestimated the airlift capacity of the Khanate as well as the willingness of Laos and Cambodia to both use their armed forces in an invasion as well as their willingness to let Vietnamese troops cross their countries.

That thinking had led the Thai military to adopt a 'forward defense' strategy, the desire to fight the enemy at the borders, as opposed to having stronger formations deeper within the country. Considering the relative weakness of the Cambodian and Laotian militaries, that policy had made sense:

- The baseline Laotian and Cambodian tank was the T-54/55, a 1950's Soviet relic. The normal anti-tank capabilities in all Thai infantry formations was more than equal to such a threat.

-Neither country had an air force worth worrying about.

In contrast, the Khanate's primary tanks, the T-90SM and T-95 were resistant to most of what the Thai Army could throw at them, at least from the front. The seven hundred combat aircraft the Khanate and the Vietnamese were able to field was an equal catastrophe for the Thais. It greatly compensated for the relative small numbers of invaders.

Finally, there was a fundamental misunderstanding of what the Alliance's goals were. Military logic dictated the destruction of Thailand's mobile force followed by the capture of Bangkok. As long as the Thai regime held the capital, it would remain the legitimate power in the country.

Due to the altering political landscape, the Alliance's only option was to make the government 'look bad'. The loss of peripheral provinces, while of negligible immediate strategic value, looked great on the maps the world-wide media would be showing to their audiences. It would appear that the Thai army had failed to defend their country. That would (hopefully) make the Thai Third Army look like the legitimate authority in Thailand.

That was the plan anyway, and you know what they say about battle plans and the enemy, right? H-hour was 4 am, September 1st.
The commander of the Zuun stood up and waited to be recognized. The staff officer from the Yunnan Command pointed at him.

"Sir, why are we doing this? I am not afraid to fight for the Great Khan, but this action seems to be suicidal. We will be far behind enemy's lines while our offensive force will be grossly under-equipped."

"You will have to rely on our ability to supply you by air."

"We only have supplies for two days of operations. What happens then?"

"We rely on the Americans to come and save us," the senior officer responded bitterly.

"Allah save us from allies," the young commander muttered. What else could he do?

He was part of the 2nd Mountain Sultan Mehmet Tumen which had just arrived in Yunnan to replace the exhausted 1st Mountain Abu al-Ghazi Bahadur Tumen. His men were from Turkey, inexperienced in combat and using new equipment they were not familiar with. They would be working with a unit he had never worked with before, the 1st Airmobile Tauekel Khan Tumen, Kazaks, who would be seizing the small airport his men needed to land in.

From there, they were to 'run amok'. That was the technical term for racing south down a highway in Central Thailand, attacking the headquarters of the 3rd Cavalry Division, an armored unit. Once that was accomplished, they were to attack the local police precinct. Provided they were still alive after that, they were to return to the air strip to resupply then they were to 'spread chaos' until they were finally hunted down by the vastly larger Thai division his 100 men would be fighting.

Of course, there was the plan for the rebel Royal Thai Third Army to force their way through the larger frontline forces of the loyalist Royal Thai First Army and come to his rescue. How would the Thai troops respond when ordered to fight their fellow Thais? No one was sure. If there was any hope in this mission, it was the knowledge that several other Zuuns had the exact same mission in other areas of Thailand.  

It was H-hour minus twenty-two.

It was 11 o'clock in the evening when the general in charge of the Royal Thai 9th Infantry Division was woken up. The Marines were leaving. That was correct; the three Royal Thai regiments were heading west to Sattahip Naval Base, because they had been ordered to by the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Thai Navy. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize why this was going on.

Seven hours earlier, the Royal Thai Army had seized all the Air Force bases in the 1st and 2nd Army districts as well as ordering the 4th Army to do the same thing (The Royal Thai Air Force had been trying to remain neutral in the upcoming civil war).

Undoubtedly the navy had decided to make their assets less 'hijack-able'. A few phone calls later confirmed that most of the Navy had set sail for parts unknown and the naval air units at Ban Sattahip Air Base (U-Tapao International Airport) had also departed either out to sea, or to ports and bases in the South.

He made a personal appeal to the commander of Marine Forces to no avail. They wanted no part of the upcoming struggle and advised the general to do the same. The general had other problems. The Royal Thai Marines were the frontline forces facing the southern border with Cambodia. He quickly reorganized his regiments, sending them to take the old Marine strongpoints to await further orders. Stopping the Marines never entered his mind.

That was a bloodletting he wanted no part of. The last thing he did was inform his superiors, thus avoiding any stupid orders to the contrary. Suddenly the nebulous movements along the Cambodian border developed a haunting significance. He wondered how much longer he had before something happened.  

It was H-hour minus five.

At midnight a loyalist commander of a company of mechanized infantry in the 2nd Cavalry's 11th Battle Group (named after their axis of advance, Highway 11) decided to send a motorized section of his command forward to the advance position his battalion was to occupy come sunrise. Either later in the day, or tomorrow morning, the forces loyal to the regime would launch a coordinated assault against the rebels main supply center at Phitsanulok.

He had a cot set up in his communications hut and had just nodded off when the radio squawked to life. His lieutenant in charge of the advance made a hurried report. They had encountered serious opposition in a confusing night action, then he went silent. The captain immediately swung into action. He put the rest of his men on alert, then contacted the neighboring Tank Battalion. He needed some armored support. He made a similar call to the attached artillery component.

The Tank Battalions night officer quickly put a platoon of light tanks at his disposal. The artillery were ready for any fire mission he sent their way. Before the armor could arrive, the company commander found himself being called to the carpet by the Duty Officer at the 3rd Cavalry (two regiments of the 2nd Cav. had been attached to the 3rd's command) over his 'offensive' action and the relief mission was called off. What had happened to the patrol of 20 Royal Thai soldiers? He was ordered to wait until sunrise to find out.

Little did anyone know, these were the first combat casualties of the upcoming rebel offensive. His patrol had stumbled across a battalion of mechanized troops arriving at their jump off point for the attack that was less than six hours from beginning. Neither the commander of the 11th Battle Group, the 3rd Cavalry Division, or First Army was informed that the enemy had already advanced twenty kilometers south of where they were supposed to be.  

It was H-hour minus four.

Over the Gulf of Thailand an Indian pilot was sweating and anxious. He wasn't upset about the fact that his nation was about to intervene in the nation he was currently flying beside in an unarmed, slow moving transport aircraft. He even wasn't upset that he was about to open the rear ramp of his C-130 and unleash 64 MARCOS in an ocean insertion.

What he was upset about was flying so close to his companion C-130 that they appeared to be one aircraft to the civilian air traffic controllers. After all, there couldn't be two Indian passenger planes flying the same route to Phnom Penh one right after the other.

The 128 MARCOS Special Operators were past worrying about 'The Plan'. In the 1st phase, they were HAHO-ing (High Altitude High Opening) because they had to glide nearly thirty kilometers before landing at night into a body of water. That accomplished, they had to swim the last two kilometers, with gear, to the Thailand coast. Then they had to sneak up on a guarded compound, the U-Tapao Royal Thai Navy Airfield, and hold it until the Khanate could land reinforcements, and all before sunrise.

The second phase of the operation was a tad nebulous and not tied to any particular time table, or location. It required a good deal of guts and initiative and he and his men had that in spades. They were in the rear area of the 9th Royal Thai Infantry Division.

The MARCOS with approximately 500 Khanate soldiers were to locate any and all elements of said formation, wherever they might be, and destroy them. The enemy had 36 1960-era tanks. The Khanate had promised to bring 11 of their own (hopefully more modern) tanks. The INS promised naval and air support. Things were going to get 'interesting'.  

It was H-hour minus two.

The first planned combat action of Operation Pridi Phanomyong, the name for the combined Thai, Cambodian, Khanate, Laotian and Vietnamese offensive to topple the military dictatorship ruling Thailand, happened at Nong Khai, Thailand.

The commander of a battalion of the 3rd Infantry Division had been denied permission to wire the '2nd Thai-Laos Friendship Bridge' with explosives, so he had targeted it with his mortar team instead, despite the reality that his 81mm round were likely to have negligible impact on the structure.

At 3 am, he was awoken to the sounds of automatic weapons fire far too close by. 'Him' stopping to get dressed saved his life. As he was exiting the private residence next to his Command Post, the Post erupted into a fireball. He even made out the whoosh of the cruise missile impacting. He had planned for that contingency. The man raced back into his home and accessed the public telephone network.

His first call to the mortar platoon went unanswered. His next two calls to the two infantry companies manning positions adjacent to the bridge also went unanswered. His fourth call was to his reserve company. They responded, so he directed them to retake the southern end of the bridge and hold it at all costs.

His fifth call was to regimental command, 100 km safely to the rear, to inform them that his position was compromised. He needed immediate support or he believed his position would be overrun. If assistance wasn't coming, he wanted permission to withdraw with whatever he could salvage.

Before he could get his reply, his residence was rocked by a grenade explosion. As he struggled back to his feet, machine gun fire ripped through the place. His attendant and two security troopers fell back down. The door was kicked open. Though wounded, he scrambled to pull his pistol out. A hammer blow hit his chest. His last memory was of a camouflage-painted Mongolian face looking down at him. It was Hour minus one.

The Royal Thai Armed Forces were not designed around a robust anti-aircraft program. Their few advanced systems were around the capital, not in the field with the troops. They had to use more primitive systems and relied heavily on the civilian air traffic controllers for much of their data. A phone call from Khon Kaen International airport operator alerted the area army commander that something ominous was coming their way.

Dutifully, the military officer ordered his radar operators to cut on their search radars to analyze the threat. They found it. At the same time, the waiting Khanate Su-27 pilots registered the range and location of the enemy radars and promptly send radar-seeking missiles their way. Those two aircraft were tasked with anti-air suppression. Behind them, an air armada was descending on Thailand and it would be a disaster if their lumbering Il-76's and An-70's and -74's were blasted out of the sky in a rain of burning men and material.

Patrolling several thousand meters above were two Thai Royal Air Force F-16's. They spotted the Su-27's activating their search radar, identified them as 'hostiles' who had penetrated Thai airspace and dove to the attack. They kept their radars passive, waited for the IR missiles to 'beep', letting the pilots know they had locked on to their targets, and then let loose.

A heartbeat later, half a dozen different search radars went active. It was a group of Mig-29's who were flying air cover over the group of ground attack fighters beneath them. One Su-27 twisted out of the way. The second took a hit and spun out of control. After that, the two F-16 pilots were too busy futilely trying to stay alive. It was H hour.

Where was the Royal Thai Air Force? The units in the central part of the country had been persuaded to cooperate with the regime. Those in the south and north had kept to their neutrality. The ones in the west were faced with a crisis of conscience when Khanate airmobile forces landed at their bases.

The soldiers promised the airmen that no one needed to fire at the other. The invaders weren't going to demand the Thai's surrender, only that they stay on the base until the crisis was over. They were loyal servants of the Kingdom, but what did that mean right now, when the Army was shooting people in the streets? A cautious d tente was reached. In that small portion of the country, no one died.

In the south of Thailand, the pilots listened to their brethren to the north fighting and dying. Their resolve to stay neutral was tested. The regime declared this to be a foreign invasion. The Royal Thai Third Army declared the country's hour of liberation was at hand. Conflicted, they did nothing. By daylight, H-hour plus three, the skies over most of their homeland were empty of all Thai aircraft.

A soldier of the Royal Cambodian 5th Commando was poised and waiting for the ultimate test of his unit's ability. Oddly enough, his unit had been created because of the success of Thai Special Forces against his country in countless earlier border clashes.

Now he was sitting in Thailand, waiting for the largest offensive the modern Cambodian Army had ever attempted in their modern history. Sure, they had been invaded plenty of times in the past hundred years. This time, they would be the invaders.

At thirty-two seconds past H-hour, 130mm howitzer shells began falling on the loose Thai earthworks. They clearly didn't suspect that they were standing in the way of the Alliance 'Cambodia Force' (the designation for the middle of three axis of invasions out of Cambodia).

It wasn't much, as invasion armies went ~ a regiment of Cambodia's Fourth Division plus three batteries of heavy artillery, the 160th Regiment of the Vietnamese 5th Division and 500 Khanate soldiers with 33 T-90SM tanks ~ maybe 3000 men in all. It was a paltry invasion army.

His wasn't the only Cambodia Commando unit in this operation either. The 1st, 2nd and 3rd Commando (Airborne) were over 30 kilometers away, deeper in Thailand. They had to secure bridges on Highway 24 as well as one over Road 224 until relieved by his invasion Battle Group (BG). Their mission was to stop Thai reinforcements from setting up blocking forces. With his 5th Commando was the 7th Commando. When the artillery barrage lifted, they were to attack the Thai battalion from the rear while their brethren attacked from the front.

One of the most relevant facts in the Alliance's intervention was something their American and NATO contemporaries had thought irrelevant in the upcoming struggle. With the minimal runway space in Northeastern Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, it was the ability of Soviet/Russian aircraft to use unpaved airfields to launch from.

This greatly magnified the number of planes the Khanate could bring to the fight. Like every other component of this expedition, they were critically short on armaments, fuel and spare parts. Giving them a schedule of 48 hours of continuous operations was considered overly optimistic by the leaders in charge of these air groups.

A feature these aircraft did share with their western counterparts was the ability to fly night, as well as day operations, in all sorts of weather. Close to 3:30 in the morning, the planes began to assemble over their bases and then headed for the Thai border. The groups coming from Chinese bases had started out earlier while those in Cambodia and Laos were late to the game. None the less, nearly five hundred Khanate combat aircraft began descending on Thailand. Behind them came the 400 planes carrying the airborne and airlift forces.

In front of them were the Khanate's airmobile/helicopter borne units. Small in number, they had the unenviable task of seizing river crossings and civilian air bases for the oncoming transports who would be landing troops, supplies and eventually reinforcements. In more than one instance, it was a one-way trip. The unit was being sacrificed in order to confuse the Thai military about the true threat until it was too late. That was the plan anyway.

The Thai town of Lom Sak was the base for the loyalist Eastern Battle Group (EBG). It was the smallest of the four groups designated to attack the rebel 1st Cavalry Division. They were also the closest to the enemy base of operations. They were also terribly close to the Laotian border. The Colonel in charge of EBG had been very conscious of the current political situation and carefully parked his equipment in lagers outside of the municipality.

Unfortunately, his political consideration also made his command an open, tempting target for the Khanate aircraft. Absent any air defense, or even an early warning system, he was jarred out of his bed by a series of explosion. He died without ever knowing that much of his unit was dying right along with him.

For the dozen Su-25 pilots, this was the start of what promised to be a very long day. Lom Sak was just over the border, so they were to drop bombs, fire their rockets and then strafe the ashes until they stopped twitching. Despite the carnage unleashed, not everyone in EBG died. Many survived, but their tanks, APC's and trucks were destroyed.

West of Lom Sak, the platoon placed on the only road between the town and their target were calling anyone and everyone because they were in trouble too. They heard tanks coming their way and they desperately needed assistance. Then the 125mm High Explosive (H E) shells began hitting their positions. They could see the muzzle flashes from the two oncoming tanks as they fired.

Immediately his Dragon (an anti-tank missile system) fired. It missed. They were reloading when they were reduced to so much blood, bone and rock fragments. The other option? The lieutenant in charge knew the range was extreme for his only anti-tank weapon, two LAW rockets, but he had no other alternatives.

The soldier assigned to the task fired. The platoon watched the rocket streak toward the target, and hit it, and nothing happened. Actually, that was incorrect. The tank began machine gunning the location the shot had come from. The second LAW had similar poor success. It did momentarily reveal the infantry moving up with the tanks.

That was enough for the lieutenant. He was courageous. That didn't mean he'd let his men get slaughtered. He ordered his men to fall back to their jeeps and head back toward Lom Sak in all haste. They made it to Lom Sak, then kept going. There was nothing left in the EBG that could stop tanks, the sun was rising and hanging around seemed contrary to the Laws of Survival.  

It was H-hour plus 30 minutes.

For the loyalist mechanized regiment of the Nan River Battle Group it was a confusing awakening. Promptly at 4:00 am, thunder could be heard from both flanks of their position. It was miles away, not an immediate threat, so their first concern was that the loyalist attack had been launched and no one had bothered to tell them. According to 'The (Loyalist) Plan', they were to push north against hopefully light opposition and approach Phitsanulok from the southwest.

By a quirk of the Thai command structure, the Nan River BG wasn't in contact with the military bodies on either flank. They were in contact with 3rd Cavalry, which they were a part of. The Duty Officer there had no idea what was going on. He did order the unit go to Alert Status and await further orders. Unfortunately for all concerned, those communications were made with radios.

The Khanate A-50 AEW was looking for just such action and sent two Su-25 attack craft to each location. Within twenty minutes, the General in charge of the 3rd Cavalry Division put his units on alert, then died. As did his underling in charge of the Nan River BG. For the Thai troops on the Nan River, it wasn't over. In the dark, 4 old Mil Mi-26's attack helicopters began raining death down on them for five minutes.

It was of little consolation that the troops of the 117th BG were getting it a whole lot worse. The 117th consisted of both the Armored and Mechanized regiments of the 3rd Cavalry Division. 'The Plan' called for two Armored and 3 Mechanized regiments plus an armored and a motorized battalion to attack across a broad front from the south while another mechanized and armored battalion attacked from the east. Forced to defend along multiple fronts, the rebel 3rd Army's 1st Cavalry division would be defeated in detail and the rebellion ended.

The downside to the plan was that it left the loyalist forces facing the same predicament, the risk of being defeated separately in bite-sized chunks. That was not the fate of the Nan River BG, or 117th BG. They were to be paralyzed by air strikes just long enough for the 11th BG to be overwhelmed and the road opened to the 3rd Cavalry Divisions rear area.

Military logic demanded that the mobile flanking forces had to be defeated before a true breakthrough could be achieved, not just disrupted. Otherwise, the invaders could be cut off from supplies and choked of resources. Except the invading forces didn't care about their supply lines. What little reserves they had could be brought in by air, after that, there was nothing left and the advance would grind to a halt.

Little did the Nan River BG know that it was Alliance strategy to cripple their mobile assets so that an organized counterattack would come too late to save the 11th BG. The 117th would be drawn off to stop the rebel 7th Infantry Division's attack to the west at Nakhon Sawa down Highway 1. The 7th only had a small number of mobile forces, but if those could get behind the loyalist they would be between the loyalist army and Bangkok, the rebellion just might succeed.  

It was H-hour plus 50 minutes.

 The commander of the First Army was finally made aware of the Alliance attack at 5:23 am. He was 250 km from the front lines and communications were spotty. The size and composition of the attacking force was unknown, but that wasn't what had his attention. Bangkok itself was under attack. Again, forces were unknown, but they had seized Suvarnabhumi Airport, inside the city. That was his item of primary importance.

He ordered the General in charge of the 1st Division, the garrison of the capital, to secure the critical elements of the city's infrastructure and retake the airport before more enemy could arrive. Had he understood the he was obsessing over less than 240 Khanate soldiers in twenty-four vehicles, he would have let the local military and police checkpoints deal with them.

The attackers had been delivered by helicopter assault. They shot up the airport's control tower, then spread out into the surrounding city. Their helicopter support, at the end of their effective range, had to leave. Those 240 men were on their own. They were not likely to be reinforced nor was there going to be an attempt to rescue them. This was one of those 'one-way' missions that had been complained about during the initial and only briefing.  

It was H-hour plus two.

 

 The General in charge of the loyalist 9th Infantry Division had a better picture of what was going on in his district. He had a mobile force in his rear that was tearing up his 1st regiment, which he had been forced to spread out over a 100 km of coastline. His 2nd regiment was being pushed back by a force coming up from Krong Khemara Phoumin, Cambodia.

The linchpin of their defense was the town of Trat, and an Alliance force had somehow slipped around the front ling to appear there, seized the bridge over the Trat River and was currently driving his forces to the north and west of that town. The lone battalion facing the primary invasion force was on its own.

His 3rd regiment had been placed to hold open his lines of communication/support along the Cambodian border between his command and that of the 2nd Division, which was also under attack. His sole reserve force, his tank battalion, had already been engaged and largely destroyed in Trat. He immediately ordered one battalion from his 3rd regiment to head to the rear while ordering the other two, plus the remnants of the 3rd regiment to fall back on his central position. There they would make their stand.

No sooner had those orders gone out than First Army contacted him and ordered him to immediately counterattack the invaders.

His response? 'Counterattack? In which direction? I'm surrounded.'

They told him to secure the frontier, and then stole a battalion from his 1st regiment because the capital was under attack. His pleas that he desperately needed that battalion for any counter attack were ignored.

The sole battalion driving to his rear had a 190 km to travel, over open roads, in trucks and subject to air attack. That move would take at least four hours (hopefully). What remained of the battalion they were going to aid was yet to be seen. They sounded like they were in a world of trouble.

It would take two hours for the other two battalions from the 3rd regiment to arrive. They would be united with the remnants of the 3rd Regiment and the final battalion of the 1st regiment at Chanthaburi, where he had his HQ. Only at that point, absent tank and air support, would he attempt any action to expel the invaders. He figured he had slim odds of success.

In thirty minutes he would be informed that the battalion holding back the main invading force had finally succumbed. It had endured continuous artillery barrages, multiple air strikes and five combined arms assaults. They were out of time, fighting men and largely out of ammunition when they surrendered.  

It was H-hour plus three.

 The citizens of Bangkok woke up to another round of shooting in the streets. Some people, somewhere had defied the government and were now either getting killed, or arrested. About an hour earlier, a small number of mysterious operatives contacted the surviving members of the opposition and told them the hour of deliverance was at hand. Khanate troops were already in the city and if they wanted to show the Khanate and the whole world that they deserved freedom, they had to get into the streets for one last, climactic showdown.

So small groups hit the streets. At first, they realized that something had gone wrong for the authorities. The police they saw on the streets were scared. Many of the military checkpoints had been abandoned. One group, over a hundred strong by this point, rounded a street corner nervously and spotted three military vehicles sitting at the next intersection. They weren't in familiar vehicles and the strangers appeared to be lost.

One man, braver than most, approached them, quickly receiving their attention. He greeted them. They didn't respond, but they weren't pointing guns at him either. As he drew close, one of the soldiers approached him and handed him a 'flyer', a one page pamphlet.

'We are part of the Free Thai Alliance and are here to liberate you. We apologize for not speaking your language. If you would direct us to the closest military or police station, we will attack it for you.'

The man looked at the soldier who gave him the pamphlet then up at the armored vehicle they were standing next to. It appeared to have a very big gun and the soldiers around it seemed ready enough.

"I will show you the way," the man nodded then bowed, his hands clasped together. Over his shoulder he shouted, "They are here to help. Come with us!"

The soldier quickly figured out the Thai citizen wanted to climb up on the BMP-3M. It had a 30mm auto-cannon, three 7.6mm machine guns, and the really big gun was a 100mm cannon that could also fire anti-tank missiles. It was armored enough to defeat anything the police could bring to the fight, though any serious weapon would destroy it. Its main reason for being on that street at that moment was that it was a 'mere' 18 tons and thus could be airlifted by helicopter into the city.

The other two vehicles were jumped-up Russian jeeps called Tigr's. They were armored against small arms fire and had nifty 12.7mm machine guns on top and its 11 occupants seemed rather upbeat about their chances (which was to say they Thai's couldn't penetrate the Kazak soldiers stoic acceptance of their fates.)

"This way," the Thai protester pointed. He wasn't taking them downtown, oh no. He was directing them into a working class section of Bangkok that was a hotbed of anti-government resistance. He had little doubt they could find police officers there. He didn't want to kill them. He hoped they would see the size of his tank's big gun and do the right thing, aka give up.

(BMP-3M owners please note: the BMP-3M is not a tank. It is an IFV (infantry fighting vehicle). Fighting a true tank voids the manufacturer's warranty)

He also pulled out his cell phone and made a few calls. The message was always the same -

"There are Mongol soldiers roaming the city. Find them before the military does and use them to break police barricades. Oh, they don't understand our language so speak very slowly and use plenty of hand gestures."

The Commander of a Hundred that the Thai was directing was actually much more upbeat about his chances than he had been five minutes earlier. There was a real worry that the Thai people would see his men as hostile invaders and let the Royal Thai Army destroy them with little to show for their mission.

He activated his military network and informed the Air Force that he had encountered anti-government forces and was interacting with them in a positive manner. In response, he was told he was doing well (like that mattered) and a dozen aircraft were coming his way to provide ground support (far more important). Now they had the real possibility of causing a bloodbath in Bangkok, going out with a Bang.  

It was H-hour plus three.

 The leader of the MARCOS team was perplexed. Everything was going better than planned. His allies had arrived precisely on schedule with 11 T-90Sm tanks and sizable number of supporting armored vehicles. They had immediately agreed that their combined forces needed to take the offensive, so they mounted up and raced east to the town of Rayong.

Rayong was the location of the HQ of the 1st regiment of the 9th Royal Thai Infantry Division. They had found a full battalion there and a firefight had ensued. The Thai's had been alert, just facing the wrong way when the Allies went in. The combat broke up into brutal, house-to-house fighting against over a thousand soldiers, paramilitaries and police.

It had been an uneven struggle. The MARCOS were the most elite soldiers of a nation of over 1 billion people with four millennia of martial valor. The Khanate's troopers had been dedicated and very well armed, if somewhat inexperienced. The Thai's had no effective anti-tank weapons versus the T-90's and their artillery support consisted of a handful of mortars that were quickly located and neutralized.

He wasn't perplexed by the three regiments of Royal Marines sitting in the Juksamet Port of Sattahip. They seemed happy enough just sitting out this round of the battle. Whatever moved them would be of a political nature. He wasn't about to attack them and they seemed to accept that situation. If things changed, the Indian Navy had promised to flatten the base with as much firepower as 34 warships could muster.

No, what perplexed the officer was that the other two battalions attached to the 1st regiment hadn't made an appearance by now. He had reconnaissance teams farther to the east and as far west as the resort of Pattaya some 50 kilometers away. Nothing. Since the situation was going so well and he was the titular commander of this force, he went with Plan Nāraṅgī.

That called for the Khanate to start basing four airmobile Zuuns out of his captured airbase. There was plentiful aviation fuel, the base wasn't about to be overrun and having some attack helicopters at his immediate beck and call seemed prudent. Outside, an annoying journalistic team from Sky News were going live. They had come in with the Khanate troops, thus weren't really his problem. No, he had to figure out where those other two battalions had gotten themselves to.  

 To be continued.

By FinalStand for Literotica.