Cáel Defeats The Illuminati: Part 18

Can You Segway?

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

So exactly who was going to be sympathetic to their plight, who we cared about?

Beyond my fevered dream of making a difference there was a pinch of reality. See, the Cabindans and the people of Zaire were both ethnic Bakongo and the Bakongo of Zaire had also once had their own, independent (until 1914) kingdom which was now part of Angola. The Bakongo were major factions in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) -

(formerly for a short time known as the nation of Zaire, from here on out to be referred to as the DRC and in the running for the most fucked up place on the planet Earth, more on that later)

- and Congo (the nation) yet a minority in Angola. Having an independent nation united along ethnic and linguistic lines made sense and could expect support from their confederates across international boundaries.

The Liberation Air Force

The Earth & Sky operated under one constant dilemma ~ when would Temujin make his return? Since they didn't know and it was their job to be prepared for the eventuality if it happened tomorrow, or a century down the line, they 'stockpiled', and 'stockpiled' and 'stockpiled'.

That was why they maintained large horse herds and preserved the ancient arts of Asian bowyers, armoring and weapons-craft. That was why they created secret armories, and sulfur and saltpeter sites when musketry and cannons became the new ways of warfare. They secured sources of phosphates and petroleum when they became the new thing, and so on.

All of this boiled over to me being shown yet again I worked with clever, creative and under-handed people. The Khanate came up with a plan for a 'Union' Air Force {Union? More on that later} within 24 hours, and it barely touched any of their existing resources. How did they accomplish this miracle? They had stockpiled and maintained earlier generation aircraft because they didn't know when Temujin would make his re-appearance.

They'd also trained pilots and ground crews for those aircraft. As you might imagine, those people grew old just as their equipment did. In time, they went into the Earth & Sky's Inactive Reserves ~ the rank & file over the age of 45. You never were 'too old' to serve in some capacity though most combat-support related work ended at 67.

When Temujin made his return and the E&S transformed into the Khanate, those people went to work bringing their lovingly cared for, aging equipment up to combat-alert readiness. If the frontline units were decimated, they would have to serve, despite the grim odds of their survival. It was the terrible acceptance the Chinese would simply possess so much more war-making material than they did.

Well, the Khanate kicked the PRC's ass in a titanic ass-whooping no one (else) had seen coming, or would soon forget. Factory production and replacement of worn machines was in stride to have the Khanate's Air Force ready for the next round of warfare when the Cease-fire ended and the Reunification War resumed.

Always a lower priority, the Khanate military leadership was considering deactivating dozens of these reserve unit when suddenly the (Mongolian) Ikh khaany khairt akh dáé (me) had this hare-brained scheme about helping rebels in Africa, West Africa, along the Gulf of Guinea coast/Atlantic Ocean, far, far away, and it couldn't look like the Khanate was directly involved.

They barely knew where Angola was. They had to look up Cabinda to figure out precisely where that was. They brought in some of their 'reservist' air staff to this briefing and one of them, a woman (roughly a third of the E&S 'fighting'/non-frontline forces were female), knew what was going on. Why?

She had studied the combat records and performance of the types of aircraft she'd have to utilize... back in the 1980's and 90's and Angola had been a war zone rife with Soviet (aka Khanate) material back then. Since she was both on the ball, bright and knew the score, the War Council put her in overall command. She knew what was expected of her and off she went, new staff in hand. She was 64 years old, yet as ready and willing to serve as any 20 year old believer in the Cause.

Subtlety, scarcity and audacity were the watchwords of the day. The Khanate couldn't afford any of their front-line aircraft for this 'expedition'. They really couldn't afford any of their second-rate stuff either. Fortunately, they had some updated third-rate war-fighting gear still capable of putting up an impressive show in combat ~ providing they weren't going up against a top tier opponents.

For the 'volunteers' of the Union Air Force, this could very likely to be a one-way trip. They all needed crash courses (not a word any air force loves, I know) in Portuguese though hastily provided iPhones with 'apps' to act as translators were deemed to be an adequate stop-gap measure. Besides, they were advised to avoid getting captured at all cost. The E&S couldn't afford the exposure. Given the opportunity ~ this assignment really was going above and beyond ~ not one of these forty-six to sixty-seven year olds backed out.

No, they rolled out fifty of their antiquated aircraft, designs dating back to the 1950's through the mid-70's, and prepared them for the over 10,000 km journey to where they were 'needed most'. 118 pilots would go (72 active plus 46 replacements) along with 400 ground crew and an equally aged air defense battalion (so their air bases didn't get blown up). Security would be provided by 'outsiders' ~ allies already on the ground and whatever rebels could be scrounged up. After the initial insertion, the Indian Air Force would fly in supplies at night into the Cabinda City and Soyo Airports.

The composition,

14 Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-21 jet fighters ~ though she entered service in 1959, these planes' electronics were late 20th century and she was a renowned dogfighter. 12 were the Mig-21-97 modernized variant and the other two were Mig-21 UM two-seater trainer variants which could double as reconnaissance fighters if needed.

14 Sukhoi Su-22 jet fighter-bombers ~ the original design, called the Su-17, came out in 1970, the first 12 were variants with the 22M4 upgrade were an early-80's package. The other 2 were Su-22U two-seat trainers which, like their Mig-21 comrades, doubled as reconnaissance fighters. The Su-22M4's would be doing the majority of the ground attack missions for the Cabindans, though they could defend themselves in aerial combat if necessary.

6 Sukhoi Su-24M2 supersonic attack aircraft ~ the first model rolled off the production lines in the Soviet Union back in 1974. By far the heaviest planes in the Cabindan Air Force, the Su-24M2's would act as their 'bomber force' as well as anti-ship deterrence.

8 Mil Mi-24 VM combat helicopters ~ introduced in 1972 was still a lethal combat machine today. Unlike the NATO helicopter force, the Mi-24's did double duty as both attack helicopter and assault transports at the same time.

4 Mil Mi-8 utility helicopters, first produced in 1967. Three would act as troop/cargo transports (Mi-8 TP) while the fourth was configured as a mobile hospital (the MI-17 1VA).

4 Antonov An-26 turboprop aircraft, two to be used as tactical transports to bring in supplies by day and two specializing in electronic intelligence aka listening to what the enemy was up to. Though it entered production in 1969, many still remained flying today.

2 Antonov An-71M AEW&C twin-jet engine aircraft. These were an old, abandoned Soviet design the Earth & Sky had continued working on primarily because the current (1970's) Russian Airborne Early Warning and Control bird had been both huge and rather ineffective ~ it couldn't easily identify low-flying planes in the ground clutter so it was mainly only good at sea. Since the E&S planned to mostly fight over the land,

They kept working on the An-71 which was basically 1977's popular An-72 with some pertinent design modifications (placing the engines below the wings instead of above them as on the -72 being a big one). To solve their radar problem, they stole some from the Swedish tech firm Ericsson, which hadn't been foreseen to be a problem before now.

See, the Russians in the post-Soviet era created a decent AEW&C craft the E&S gladly stole and copied the shit out of for their front line units and it was working quite nicely ~ the Beriev A-50, and wow, were the boys in the Kremlin pissed off about that these days. Whoops, or was that woot?

Now, the Khanate was shipping two An-71's down to Cabinda and somewhere along the line someone just might get a 'feel' for the style of radar and jamming the Cabindans were using aka the Swedish stuff in those An-71's. The Erieye radar system could pick out individual planes at 280 miles. The over-all system could track 60 targets and plot out 10 intercepts simultaneously. NATO, they were not, but in sub-Saharan Africa, there were none better.

Anyway, so why was any of this important?

Why the old folks with their ancient machines? As revealed, since the Earth & Sky had no idea when Temüjin would return, they were constantly squirreling away equipment. World War 2 gave them unequaled access to Soviet military technology and training.

Afterwards, under Josef Stalin's direction, thousands of Russian and German engineers and scientists were exiled to Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan who were then snatched up (reportedly died in the gulags/trying to escape) and the E&S began building mirror factories modeled on the 'then current' Soviet production lines.

So, by the early 1950's, the E&S was building, flying and maintaining Soviet-style Antonov, Beriev, Ilyushin, Myasishchev, Mikoyan-Gurevich, Sukhoi, Tupolev and Yakovlev airplanes. First in small numbers because their pool of pilots and specialists was so small.

The E&S remedied this by creating both their own 'private' flight academies and technical schools. They protected their activities with the judicious use of bribes (they were remarkably successful with their economic endeavors on both side of the Iron Curtain) and murders (including the use of the Ghost Tigers).

By 1960, the proto-Khanate had an air force. Through the next two decades they refined and altered their doctrine ~ moving away from the Soviet doctrine to a more pure combined-arms approach (the Soviets divided their air power into four separate arms ~ ADD (Long Range Aviation), FA (Front Aviation), MTA (Military Transport Aviation) and the V-PVO (Soviet Air Defenses ~ which controlled air interceptors).).

It wasn't until the collapse of the Soviet Union and the independence of the various former SSR's that the E&S program really began to hit its stride. Still, while Russia faltered, China's PLAAF (Peoples' Liberation Army Air Force) began to take off. Since the Chinese could produce so much more, the E&S felt it had to keep those older planes and crews up to combat readiness. The younger field crews and pilots flew the newer models as they rolled off the secret production lines.

Then the Unification War appeared suddenly, the E&S-turned Khanate Air Force skunked their PLAAF rivals due to two factors, a surprise attack on a strategic level and the fatal poisoning of their pilots and ground crews before they even got into the fight. For those Chinese craft not destroyed on the ground, the effects of Anthrax eroded their fighting edge. Comparable technology gave the Khanate their critical victory and Air Supremacy over the most important battlefields.

What did this meant for those out-of-date air crews and pilots who had been training to a razor's edge for a month now? Their assignment had been to face down the Russians if they invaded. They would take their planes up into the fight even though this most likely would mean their deaths, but they had to try.

When Operation Fun House put Russia in a position where she wasn't likely to jump on the Khanate, this mission's importance faded. The Russian Air Force was far more stretched than the Khanate's between her agitations in the Baltic and her commitments in the Manchurian, Ukrainian, Chechen and Georgian theaters.

With more new planes rolling off the production lines, these reservist units began dropping down the fuel priority list, which meant lowering their flight times thus readiness. Only my hare-brained scheme had short-circuited their timely retirement. Had I realized I was getting people's grandparents killed, I would have probably made the same call anyway. We needed them.

The Kanate

The Khanate's #1 air superiority dogfighter was the Mig-35F. The #2 was the Mig-29. No one was openly discussing the Khanate's super-stealthy "Su-50", if that was what it was, because its existence 'might' suggest the Khanate also stole technology from the Indian defense industry, along with their laundry list of thefts from South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, the PRC, Russia and half of NATO.

Her top multi-role fighters were the Su-47, Su-35S and Su-30SM. The Su-30 'Flanker-C/MK2/MKI were their 2nd team with plenty of 3rd team Su-27M's still flying combat missions as well.

Strike fighters? There weren't enough Su-34's to go around yet, so the Su-25MS remained the Khanate's dedicated Close Air Assault model.

Medium transport aircraft? The An-32RE and An-38. They had small, large and gargantuan transports as well.

Bombers? The rather ancient jet-powered Tu-160M2's and Tu-22M2's as well as the even older yet still worthwhile turboprops ~ from 1956's ~ the Tu-95M S16.

Helicopters? While they still flew updated variants of the Mil Mi-8/17 as military transports, the more optimized Kamov Ka-52 and Mil Mi-28 had replaced them in the assault role.

Bizarrely, the Khanate had overrun several Chinese production lines of the aircraft frames and components ~ enough to complete fairly modern PLAAF (Peoples Liberation Army Air Force) FC-1 and J-10 (both are small multi-role fighter remarkably similar to the US F-16 with the FC-1 being the more advanced model, using shared Chinese-Pakistani technology and was designed for export,).

They did have nearly two dozen to send, but they didn't have the pilots and ground crews trained to work with them, plus the FC-1 cost roughly $32 million which wasn't fundage any legitimate Cabindan rebels could get their hands on, much less $768 million (and that would just be for the planes, not the weeks' worth of fuel, parts and munitions necessary for what was forthcoming).

Meanwhile, except for the An-26, which you could get for under $700,000 and the An-71, which were only rendered valuable via 'black market tech', none of the turboprop and jet aircraft the Khanate was sending were what any sane military would normally want. The helicopters were expensive ~ the 'new' models Mi-24's cost $32 million while the Mi-17's set you back $17 million. The one's heading to Cabinda didn't look 'new'.

The Opposition:

In contrast, the Angolan Air Force appeared far larger and more modern. Appearances can be deceptive, and they were. Sure, the models of Russian and Soviet-made aircraft they had in their inventory had the higher numbers ~ the Su-25, -27 and -30 ~ plus they had Mig-21bis's, Mig-23's and Su-22's, but things like training and up-keep didn't appear to be priorities for the Angolans.

When you took into account the rampant corruption infecting all levels of Angolan government, the conscript nature of their military, the weakness of their technical educational system, the complexity of any modern combat aircraft and the reality that poor sods forced into being Air Force ground crewmen hardly made the most inspired technicians, or most diligent care-takers of their 'valuable' stockpiles (which their officers all too often sold on the black market anyway), things didn't just look bleak for the Angolan Air Force, they were a tsunami of cumulative factors heading them for an epic disaster.

It wasn't only their enemies who derided their Air Force's lack of readiness. Their allies constantly scolded them about it too. Instead of trying to fix their current inventory, the Angolans kept shopping around for new stuff. Since 'new'-new aircraft was beyond what they wanted to spend (aka put too much of a dent in the money they were siphoning off to their private off-shore accounts), they bought 'used' gear from former Soviet states ~ Belarus, Russia and Ukraine ~ who sold them stuff they had left abandoned in revetments (open to the elements to slowly rot) on the cheap.

To add to the insanity, the Angolans failed to keep up their maintenance agreements so their newly fixed high-tech machines often either couldn't fly, or flew without critical systems, like radar, avionics and even radios. Maybe that wasn't for the worst because after spending millions on these occasionally-mobile paperweights, the Angolans bought the least technologically advanced missile, gun and rocket systems they could get to put on these flying misfortunes.

On the spread sheets, Angola had 18 Su-30K's, 18 Su-27, 12 Su-25's, 14 Su-22's, 22 Mig-23's, 23 Mig-21bis's and 6 Embraer EMB 314 Super Tucano (a turboprop aircraft tailor-made for counter-insurgency operations), 105 helicopters with some combative ability and 21 planes with some airlift capacity. That equated to 81 either air superiority, or multi-role jet fighters versus the 12 Union Air Force (actually the Bakongo Uni o de Cabinda e Zaire, For as Armadas de Liberta  o, For a Area ~ Liberation Armed Forces, Air Force (BUCZ-FAL-FA) Mig-21-97's.

It would seem lopsided except for the thousands of hours of flight experience the 'Unionists' enjoyed over their Angolan rivals. You also needed to take into account the long training and fanatic dedication of their ground crews to their pilots and their craft. Then you needed to take into account every Unionist aircraft, while an older airframe design, had updated (usually to the year 2000) technology lovingly cared for, as if the survival of their People demanded it.

A second and even more critical factor was the element of surprise. At least the PRC and the PLAAF had contingencies for attacks from their neighbors in the forefront of their strategic planning. The Angolans? The only country with ANY air force in the vicinity was the Republic of South Africa (RSA) and they had ceased being a threat with the end of Apartheid and the rise of majority Black rule in that country nearly two decades earlier.

In the pre-dawn hours of 'Union Independence Day', the FAL-FA was going to smash every Angolan Air base and air defense facility within 375 miles of Cabinda (the city). Every three hours after that, they would be hitting another target within their designated 'Exclusion Zone'. Yes, this 'Exclusion Zone' included a 'tiny' bit of DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) territory. The DRC didn't have an air force to challenge them though, so,

Inside this 'Exclusion Zone', anything moving by sea, river, road, rail, or air without Unionist governmental approval was subject to attack, which would require neutral parties to acknowledge some semblance of a free and independent B U C Z. Worse for Angola, this 'Zone' included Angola's capital and its largest port, Luanda, plus four more of their ten largest urban centers. This could be an economic, military and humanitarian catastrophe if mishandled.

The Angolan Army did not have significant anti-aircraft assets. Why would they? Remember, no one around them had much of an air force to worry about. The FAL-FA in turn could hit military convoys with TV-guided munitions 'beyond line of sight', rendering what they did have useless. It got worse for the Army after dark. The FAL-FA could and would fly at night whereas the average Angolan formation had Zip-Zero-Nadda night fighting capacity.

Then geography added its own mountain of woes. As far as Cabinda was concerned, there was no direct land line to their border from Angola. Their coastal road only went as far as the port of Soyo where the Congo River hit the South Atlantic Ocean. Across that massive gap was the DRC where the road was not picked back up. Far up the coast was the DRC town of Muanda (with an airport) and though they did have a road which went north, it did not continue to the Cabindan border.

Nope. To get at Cabinda from the south meant a long, torturous travel through northeastern Angola, into the heart of the DRC then entailed hooking west to some point 'close' to the Cabindan frontier before finally hoofing it overland through partially cleared farmland and jungle. Mind you, the DRC didn't have a native air force capable of protecting the Angolans in their territory so,

In fact the only 'road' to Cabinda came from the Republic of Congo (Congo) to the north and even that was a twisted route along some really bad, swampy terrain. This had been the pathway of conquest the Angolans took 39 years earlier. The difference being the tiny bands of pro-independence Cabindan guerillas back then couldn't hold a candle to the Amazons fighting to free Cabinda this time around in numbers, zeal, training and up-to-date equipment.

Next option ~ to come by sea. They would face a few, stiff problems, such as the FAL-FA having ship-killer missiles, the Angolan Navy not being able to defend them and the Unionists having no compunction to not strike Pointe-Noire in the 'not so neutral' Republic of the Congo if they somehow began unloading Angolan troops. It seemed the Republic of the Congo didn't have much of an Air Force either.

Before you think the FAL-FA was biting off more than they could chew, Cabinda, the province, was shaped somewhat like the US State of Delaware, was half the size of Connecticut (Cabinda was 2,810 sq. mi. to Conn.'s 5,543 sq. mi.) and only the western 20% was relatively open countryside where the Angolan Army's only advantage ~ they possessed armed fighting vehicles while the 'Unionists' did not (at this stage of planning) ~ could hopefully come into play.

Centered at their capital, Cabinda (City), jets could reach any point along their border within eight minutes. Helicopters could make it in fifteen. To be safe, some of the FAL-FA would base at the town of Belize which was in the northern upcountry and much tougher to get at with the added advantage the Angolans wouldn't be expecting the FAL-FA to be using the abandoned airfield there, at least initially.

Where they afraid attacking Angolan troops in the DRC would invite war with the DRC? Sure, but letting the Angolans reach the border unscathed was worse. Besides, the DRC was in such a mess it needed 23,000 UN Peacekeepers within her borders just to keep the country from falling apart. Barring outside, read European, intervention, did "Democratically-elected since 2001" President (for Life) Joseph Kabila want the FAL-FA to start dropping bombs on his capital, Kinshasa, which was well within reach of all their aircraft?

Congo (the country), to the north, wasn't being propped up by the UN, or anything else except ill intentions. In reality, it hardly had much of a military at all. Its officer corps was chosen for political reliability, not merit, or capability. Their technology was old Cold War stuff with little effort to update anything and, if you suspected corruption might be a problem across all spectrums of life, you would 'probably' be right about that too.

If you suspected the current President had been in charge for a while, you would be correct again (1979-1992 then 2001- and the 'whoops' was when he accidently let his country experiment with democracy which led to two civil wars). If you suspected he was a life-long Communist (along with the Presidents of the DRC and Angola), you'd be right about that as well. Somehow their shared Marxist-Leninist-Communist ideology hadn't quite translated over to alleviating the grinding poverty in any of those countries despite their vast mineral wealth,

At this point in the region's history, little Cabinda had everything to gain by striving for independence and the vast majority of 'warriors' who could possibly be sent against her had terribly little to gain fighting and dying trying to stop them from achieving her goal. After all, their lives weren't going to get any better and with the Amazons ability ~ nay willingness ~ to commit battlefield atrocities, those leaders were going to find it hard going to keep sending their men off to die.

And then, it got even worse.

See, what I had pointed out was there were two oil refineries in Angola, and neither was in Cabinda. Cabinda would need a refinery to start making good on their oil wealth ~ aka economically bribe off the Western economies already shaken over the Khanate's first round of aggressions.

But wait! There was an oil refinery just across the Congo River from Cabinda ~ which meant it was attached to mainland Angola. That had to be a passel of impossible news, right?

Nope. As I said earlier, it seemed the people of northern Angola were the same racial group as the Cabindans AND majority Catholic while the ruling clique wasn't part of their ethnic confederacy plus the farther south and east into Angola you went, the less Catholic it became.

But it got better. This province was historically its own little independent kingdom (called the Kingdom of Kongo) to boot! It had been abolished by Portugal back in 1914.

The 'good' news didn't end there. Now, it wasn't as if the leadership of Angola was spreading the wealth around to the People much anyway, but these northerners had been particularly left out of this Marxist version of 'Trickle Down' economics.

How bad was this? This northwestern province ~ called Zaire ~ didn't have any railroads, or paved roads, linking it to the rest of the freaking country. The 'coastal road' entered the province, but about a third of the way up ran into this river, which they'd failed to bridge (you had to use a single track bridge farther to the northeast, if you can believe it). It wasn't even a big river. It was still an obstacle though.

How did the Angolan government and military planned to get around? Why by air and sea, of course. Well, actually by air. Angola didn't have much of a merchant marine, or Navy, to make sealift a serious consideration. Within hours of the 'Union Declaration of Independence' anything flying anywhere north of the Luanda, the capital of Angola, would essentially be asking to be blown out of the sky.

Along the border between Zaire province and the rest of Angola were precisely two chokepoints. By 'chokepoints', I meant places where a squad (10 trained, modernly-equipped troopers) could either see everything for miles & miles over pretty much empty space along a river valley and the only bridge separating Zaire province from the south, or overlook a ravine which the only road had to pass through because of otherwise bad-ass, broken terrain.

Two.

Zaire Province had roughly the same population as Cabinda ~ 600,000. Unlike Cabinda, which consisted of Cabinda City plus a few tiny towns and rugged jungles, Zaire had two cities ~ Soyo, with her seventy thousand souls plus the refinery at the mouth of the Congo River, and M'banza-Kongo, the historical capital of the Kingdom of Kongo, spiritual center of the Bakongo People (who included the Cabindans) and set up in the highlands strategically very reminiscent of Điện Biàn Phủ.

Of Zaire's provincial towns, the only other strategic one was N'Zeto with her crappy Atlantic port facility and 2,230 meter grass airport. The town was the northern terminus of the National Road 100 ~ the Coastal Road. It terminated because of the Mebridege River. There wasn't a bridge at N'Zeto though there was a small one several miles upstream. N'Zeto was also where the road from provinces east of Zaire ended up, so you had to have N'Zeto ~ and that tiny bridge ~ to move troops overland anywhere else in Zaire Province.

So you would think it would be easy for the Angolan Army to defend then, except of how the Amazons planned to operate. They would infiltrate the area first then 'rise up in rebellion'. Their problem was the scope of the operation had magnified in risk of exposure, duration and forces necessary for success.

The serious issue before Saint Marie and the Host in Africa were the first two. They could actually move Amazons from Brazil and North America to bolster their numbers for the upcoming offensive. Even in the short-short term, equipment wouldn't be a serious problem. What the Amazons dreaded was being left in a protracted slugfest with the Angolan Army which the Condottieri could jump in on. The Amazons exceedingly preferred to strike first then vanish.

There was reason to believe a tiny number could have stayed behind in Cabinda to help the locals prepare their military until they could defend themselves. They would need more than a hundred Amazons if Cabinda wanted to incorporate Zaire. The answer was to call back their newfound buddy, the Great Khan. While he didn't have much else he could spare (the Khanate was ramping up for their invasion of the Middle East after all, the Kurds needed the help), he had other allies he could call on.

India couldn't help initially since they were supposed to supply the 'Peace-keepers' once a cease-fire had been arranged. That left Temujin with his solid ally, Vietnam, and his far shakier allies, the Republic of China and Japan.

First off ~ Japan could not help, which meant they couldn't supply troops who might very well end up dead, or far worse, captured.. What they did have was a surplus of older equipment the ROC troops were familiar with, so while the ROC was gearing up for their own invasion of mainland China in February, they were willing to help the Chinese kill Angolans, off the books, of course.

The ROC was sending fifteen hundred troops the Khanate's way to help in this West African adventure with the understanding they'd be coming home by year's end. With Vietnam adding over eight hundred of her own Special Forces, the Amazons had the tiny 'allied' army they could leave shielding Cabinda/Zaire once the first round of blood-letting was over.

To be 'fair', the Republic of China and Vietnam asked for 'volunteers'. It wasn't like either country was going to declare war on Angola directly. Nearly a thousand members of Vietnam's elite 126th Regiment of the 5th Brigade (Đặc cáng bộ) took early retirement then misplaced their equipment as they went to update their visas and inoculations before heading out for the DRC (some would be slipping over the DRC/Cabindan border).

On Taiwan, it was the men and women of the 602nd Air Cavalry Brigade, 871st Special Operations Group and 101st Amphibious Reconnaissance Battalion who felt the sudden desire to 'seek enlightenment elsewhere, preferably on another continent'.

They too were off to the Democratic Republic of Congo, man that country was a mess and their border security wasn't worth writing home about, that's for damn sure, via multiple Southeast Asian nations. Besides, they were being issued fraudulently visas which showed them to be from the People's Republic of China, not the ROC/Taiwan. If they were captured, they were to pretend to "be working for a Communist Revolution inside Angola and thus to be setting all of Africa on fire!" aka be Mainland Chinese.

There, in the DRC, these Chinese stumbled across, some Japanese. These folks hadn't retired. No. They were on an extended assignment for the UN's mission in, the DRC. OH! And look! They'd brought tons of surplus, outdated Japanese Self Defense Forces' equipment with them, and there just so happened to be some Taiwanese who had experience in using such equipment (both used US-style gear).

And here was Colonel Yoshihiro Isami of the Chūō Sokuō Shūdan (Japan's Central Readiness Force) wondering why he and his hastily assembled team had just unloaded,

18 Fuji/Bell AH-1S Cobra Attack helicopters,

6 Kawasaki OH-6D Loach Scout helicopters,

12 Fuji-Bell 204-B-2 Hiyodori Utility helicopters,

6 Kawasaki/Boeing CH-47JA Chinook Transport helicopters and

4 Mitsubishi M U-2L-1 Photo Reconnaissance Aircraft.

Yep! 46 more aircraft for the FAL-FA!

Oh, and if this wasn't 'bad enough', the Chinese hadn't come alone. They'd brought some old aircraft from their homes to aid in the upcoming struggle. Once more, these things were relics of the Cold War yet both capable fighting machines and, given the sorry state of the opposition, definitely quite deadly. A dozen F-5E Tiger 2000 configured primarily for air superiority plus two RF-5E Tigergazer for reconnaissance, pilots plus ground crews, of course.

Thus, on the eve of battle, the FAL-FA had become a true threat. Sure, all of its planes (and half of its pilots) were pretty old, but they were combat-tested and in numbers and experience no other Sub-Saharan African nation could match.

The Liberation Ground Forces:

But wait, there was still the niggling little problem of what all those fellas were going to fight with once they were on the ground. Assault/Battle rifles, carbines, rifles, pistols, PDW, SMGs as bullets, grenades and RPG's were all terrifyingly easy to obtain. The coast of West Africa was hardly the Port of London as far as customs security went. They were going to need some bigger toys and their host nations were going to need all their native hardware for their upcoming battles at home.

And it wasn't like you could advertise for used IFV (Infantry Fighting Vehicles), APCs (armored personnel carriers) and tanks on e-Bay, Amazon.com, or Twitter. If something modern US, or NATO, was captured rolling around the beautiful Angolan countryside, shooting up hostile Angolans, all kinds of head would roll in all kinds of countries, unless the country,

A) had an Executive Branch and Judiciary who wouldn't ask (or be answering) too many uncomfortable questions,

B) wasn't all that vulnerable to international pressure,

C) really needed the money and,

D) didn't give a fuck their toys would soon be seen on BBC/CNN/Al Jazeera blowing the ever-living crap out of a ton of Africans aka doing what they were advertised to do and doing it very well in the hands of capable professionals.

And politics was kind enough to hand the freedom-loving people of Cabinda & Zaire a winner, and it wasn't even from strangers, or at least people all that strange to their part of the Globe. If you would have no idea who to look for, you wouldn't be alone.

That was the magic of the choice. See, the last three decades had seen the entire Globe take a colossal dump on them as a Nation and a People. They were highly unpopular for all sorts of things, such as Crimes Against Humanity and 'no', we were not talking about the Khanate.

We would be talking about Република Србија / Republika Srbija aka Serbia aka the former Yugoslavia who had watched all their satellite minions (Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Montenegro, Kosovo and Macedonia) slip away. Despite being reduced to a tiny fraction of their former selves thus fighting two incredibly brutal and bloody World Wars for nothing, Serbia insisted on maintaining a robust armaments industry.

Mind you, they didn't make the very best stuff on the planet. That didn't stop them from trying though. Of equal importance was their geographic location and the above mentioned desire for some hard currency without asking too many questions. The geography was simple, you could move even heavy gear unnoticed from central Serbia to the Montenegrin port of Bar by rail and load them up on freighters and off to the Congo you went.

The Serbians produced an APC called the BVP M-80A's which weren't blowing anyone's minds away when they started rolling off the production lines back in 1982, plus some over-eager types on the Serbian Army's payroll sweetened the deal by offering 'the rebels' some BVP M-80 KC's and a KB as well.

Then they slathered on the sugary-sweet Maple syrup by upgrading a few of the M-80A's to BVP M-98A's. Why would they be so generous? The KC's and KB were the Command & Control variants, so that made sense (C = company & B = battalion commander). The -98A had never been tested in the field before and they were kind of curious how the new turrets (which was the major difference) would behave. 'Our' procurement agents didn't quibble. We needed the gear.

Besides, these Slavic entrepreneurs gave them an inside track on some 'disarmed/mothballed' Czech (introduced in 1963) armored mobile ambulances and Polish BWP-1 (first rolled out in 1966) APC's which were either in, or could be quickly configured into, the support variants those ground-fighters would need. The 'disarmed' part was 'fixable', thanks to both the Serbians and Finland. The 'missing' basic weaponry was something the Serbians could replace with virtually identical equipment.

It just kept getting better. Unknown to me at the time, the Finnish firm, Patria Hágglunds, had sold twenty-two of their 'most excellent' AMOS turrets ~ they are a twin 120 mm mortar system ~ then the deal fell through. Whoops! Should have guarded that warehouse better. Those bitches were on a cargo plane bound for Albania inside of six hours.

The ammunition for them was rather unique. Thankfully, it was uniquely sold by the Swiss, who had no trouble selling it to Serbia, thank you very much! Twenty-two BWP-1's became mobile artillery for the Unionist freedom fighters, though I understood the ship ride with the Serbian and Chinese technicians was loads of fun as they struggled to figured out how to attach those state-of-the-art death-dealing turrets to those ancient contraptions.

To compensate, the Serbians added (aka as long as our money was good) two Nora B-52 155 mm 52-calibre mobile artillery pieces and one battery of Orkan CER MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) for long-range artillery, two batteries of their Oganj 2000 ER MRLS for medium range carnage and six batteries of their M-94 MRLS for 'close support' as well. More field-testing new gear for the "freedom fighters" We also managed to 'purchase' ten M-84AS Main Battle tanks plus an M-84A1 armor recovery vehicle. It should have been twelve tanks, but two had 'loading issues'.

Not to be deterred, our busy little procurement-beavers discovered four tanks no one was using, in neighboring Croatia. Why wasn't anyone immediately keen on their placement? They were two sets of prototypes, Croatia's improvements on the M-84; the M-95 Degman which was a 'failed redesign' and the M-84D, which was a vast up-grade for the M-84 line which had been sidelined by the 2008 Global economic collapse, after which the project stagnated.

It seemed they were all in working order because late one night 'my people' exited a Croatian Army base with them, never to be seen again, until two weeks later when an intrepid news crew caught the distinctive form of the M-95 sending some sweet 125 mm loving the Angolan Army's way. Whoops yet again! At least they hit what they were aiming at and destroyed what they hit, right?

By then, millions of other people would be going 'what the fuck?' right along with them as Cabinda's camouflage- and mask-wearing rebel army was laying the smack-down on the Angolans. That was okay; over a million 'free Cabindan Unionists' were in the same boat. Over a thousand Asians with their mostly-female militant translators were right there to prop up their 'Unionist Allies', but then they were the ones with the tanks, armored vehicles, planes and guns, so they were less worried than most.

To pilot these tanks, APC, IFV and man this artillery, they had to go back to the Khanate. Sure enough, they had some old tankers used to crewing the T-72 from which the M-84's and -95 Degman were derived. They'd also need drivers for those BVP M-80A's and Polish BWP-1's and OT-64 SKOT's... who were, again, derived from old Soviet tech (just much better). The Serbian artillery was similar enough to Soviet stuff, but with enough new tech to make it 'more fun' for the reservists to 'figure out' how to use.

More volunteers for the Liberation Armed Forces! More Apple sales, great apps and voice modulation software so that the vehicle commanders would be heard communicating in Portuguese if someone was eavesdropping. As a final offering the Turkish Navy spontaneously developed some plans to test their long range capabilities by going to, the South Atlantic.

On the final leg they would have six frigates and two submarines, enough to give any navy in the region, which wasn't Brazil, something to think about. This was a show of force, not an actual threat though. If anyone called their bluff, the Khanate-Turkish forces would have to pull back. These were not assets my Brother, the Great Khan, could afford to gamble and lose.

If someone didn't call that bluff, he was also sending two smaller, older corvettes and three even smaller, but newer, fast attack boats, a "gift" to the Unionists ASAP. The frigates would then race home, they had 'other' issues to deal with while the submarines would hang around for a bit. The naval gift was necessitated by the reality the Unionists would have to press their claim to their off-shore riches and that required a naval force Angola couldn't hope to counter.

As things were developing, it was reckoned since a build-up of such momentous land and air power couldn't be disguised, it had to happen in a matter of days ~ four was decided to be the minimum amount of time. More than that and the government of the Democratic Republic might start asking far too many questions our hefty bribes and dubious paperwork couldn't cover. Less than that would leave the task forces launching operations with too little a chance of success.

Our biggest advantage was audacity. The buildup would happen 100 km up the Congo River from Soyo, the primary target of the Southern Invasion, in the DRC's second largest port city, Boma. Though across the river was Angolan territory, there was nothing there. The city of roughly 160,000 would provide adequate cover for the initial stage of the invasion.

There they grouped their vehicles & Khanate drivers with Amazon and Vietnamese combat teams. The Japanese were doing the same for their 'Chinese' counterparts for their helicopter-borne forces. Getting all their equipment in working order in the short time left was critical as was creating some level of unit dynamic. Things were chaotic. No one was happy. They were all going in anyway.

What had gone wrong?

While most children her age were texting their schoolmates, or tackling their homework, Aya Ruger ~ the alias of Nasusara Assiyaiá hamai ~ was getting briefings of her global, secret empire worth hundreds of billions and those of her equally nefarious compatriots. She received a very abbreviated version of what the Regents received, delivered by a member of Shawnee Arinniti's staff.

When Aya hopped off her chair unexpectedly, everyone tensed. Her bodyguards' hands went to their sidearms and Lorraine (her sister by blood), also in the room on this occasion, stood and prepared to tackle her 'former' sibling to the ground if the situation escalated into an assassination attempt. No such attack was generated, so the security ratcheted down and the attendant returned her focus to her Queen. Aya paced four steps, turned and retraced her way then repeated the action three more times.

"How many people live in the combined areas?" she asked.

"The combined areas? Of Cabinda and Zaire?"

"Yes."

"I," the woman referenced her material, "roughly 1.1 million."

"What is the yearly value of the offshore oil and natural gas production?"

"Forty-nine billion, eighty hundred and sixty-seven million by our best estimates at this time,"

"How many live in Soyo City proper?"

"Roughly 70,000."

"We take Soyo," she spoke in a small yet deliberate voice. "We take and hold Soyo as an independent city-state within the Cabindan-Zaire Union. From the maps it appears Soyo is a series of islands. It has a port and airport. It has an open border to an ocean with weaker neighbors all around."

"What of the, Zairians?"

"Bakongo. As a people they are called the Bakongo," Aya looked up at the briefer. "We relocate those who need to work in Soyo into a new city, built at our expense, beyond the southernmost water barrier. The rest we pay to relocate elsewhere in Zaire, or Cabinda."

By the looks of those around her, Aya realized she needed to further explain her decisions.

"This is more than some concrete home base for our People," she began patiently. "In the same way it gives our enemies a clearly delineated target to attack us, it is a statement to our allies we won't cut and run if things go truly bad."

"In the same way it will provide us with diplomatic recognition beyond what tenuous handouts we are getting from Cáel Wakko Ishara's efforts through JIKIT. Also, it is a reminder we are not like the other Secret Societies in one fundamental way, we are not a business concern, or a religion. We are a People and people deserve some sort of homeland. We have gone for so long without."

"But Soyo?" the aide protested. "We have no ties to it, and it backs up to, nothing."

"Northern Turkey and southern Slovakia mean nothing to us now as well," Aya debated. "No place on Earth is any more precious than another. As for backing up to nothing, no. You are incorrect. It backs into a promise from our allies in the Earth & Sky that if we need support, they know where to park their planes and ships."

Aya was surrounded with unhappy, disbelieving looks.

"The Great Khan is my mamētu meáeda," she reminded them, "and I have every reason to believe he completely grasps the concept's benefits and obligations."

The looks confirmed 'but he's a man' to the tiny Queen.

"Aya, are you sure about this?" Lorraine was the first to break decorum.

"Absolutely. Do you know what he sent me when he was informed of my, ascension to the Queendom?"

"No," Lorraine admitted.

"We must go horse-riding sometime soon, Daughter of Cáel, Queen of the Amazons."

More uncertain and unconvinced looks.

"He didn't congratulate me, or send any gifts. He could have and you would think he would have, but he didn't. He knew the hearts of me & my Atta and we weren't in the celebratory mood. No. The Great Khan sent one sentence which offered solace and quiet, atop a horse on a windswept bit of steppe."

Nothing.

Sigh. "I know this sounds Cáel-ish," Aya admitted, "but I strongly believe this is what we should do. We are giving the Cabindans and Bakongo in Zaire independence and the promise of a much better life than what they now face. We will be putting thousands of our sisters' lives on the line to accomplish this feat and well over two hundred million dollars."

"What about governance of the city ~ Soyo?" the aide forged ahead.

"Amazon law," Aya didn't hesitate. "We will make allowances for the security forces of visiting dignitaries and specific allied personnel, but otherwise it will be one massive Amazon urban freehold."

"I cannot imagine the Golden Mare, or the Regents, will be pleased," the attendant bowed her head.

"It is a matter of interconnectivity," Aya walked up and touched the woman's cheek with the back of her small hand. "We could liberate then abandon Cabinda with the hope a small band could help them keep their independence. Except we need the refinery at Soyo so the people of Cabinda can truly support that liberty."

"So, we must keep Soyo and to keep Soyo, we must keep Zaire province. There is no other lesser border which makes strategic sense ~ a river, highlands, a massive river, an ocean ~ those are sustainable frontiers. You can't simply keep Soyo and not expect the enemy to strike and destroy that refinery, thus we must take Zaire province."

"But the Bakongo of Zaire cannot defend themselves and will not be able to do so for at least a year, if not longer. That means we must do so, and for doing so, they will give us Soyo and we will be honest stewards of their oil wealth. We cannot expect any other power to defend this new Union and if we don't have a land stake we will be portrayed as mercenaries and expelled by hostile international forces."

"So, for this project to have any chance of success, we must stay, fight and have an acknowledged presence, and if you can think of an alternative, please let me know," she exhaled.

"What if the Cabindans and Bakongo resist?"

"It is 'us', or the Angolans and they know how horrible the Angolans can be. Didn't you say the average person their lives on just $2 a day?"

"Yes."

"We can do better than that," Aya insisted.

"How?" the aide persisted. "I mean, 'how in a way which will be quickly evident and meaningful?'"

"Oh," Aya's tiny brow furrowed. Her nose twitched as she rummaged through the vast storehouse of her brain.

"Get me in touch with William A. Miller, Director of the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service. He should be able to help me navigate the pathways toward getting aid and advisors into those two provinces ASAP."

"I'll let Katrina know," the attendant made the notation on her pad.

"No. Contact him directly," Aya intervened. "We established a, rapport when we met. I think he might responded positively to a chance to mentor me in foreign relations."

"Really?" Lorraine's brows arched.

"Yes," Aya chirped.

"Are you sure, Nasusara?" the attendant stared. She used 'Nasusara' whenever she thought Aya had a 'horrible' idea instead of a merely a 'bad' one.

"Yes. He owes me. Last time we met I didn't shoot him."

"Didn't?" the woman twitched.

"Yes. I drew down on him with my captured Chinese QSW-06. I didn't want to kill him, but I felt I was about to have to kill Deputy National Security Advisor Blinken and he was the only other person in the room both armed and capable of stopping me."

"Why is he still alive?"

"Cáel Ishara saw through my distraction and then took my gun from me, asked for it actually," she shyly confessed.

"Would you have shot him?" the aide inquired.

"What do you think?" Aya smiled.

And Then:

So, given the extended scope of the operation by both a second province and the Queen's demands, which necessitated the increased time table by an extra two weeks, the Amazons, Coils of the Serpent and Cult of the Jaguar were forced to bring in extra people. For the Amazons, the primary additions were Security Detail from North and South America and every available runner and House Amazons they could risk removing from Brazil.

For the Coils, it was the advantage of sending three Cult 'cells' after their hardest targets, the two Provincial Governors and the Head of the Northern Military Region (aka Cabinda) plus their staffs. The Coils spent their resources subverting a few MPLA (the ruling party of Angola) members into enticing other key members to gather as the coup d'etat was going down so they could all be swept up quickly. Such was the arrogance of the ruling elite that a roundup was possible.

They were also able to recruit non-aligned yet sympathetic Portuguese-speakers, so once the takeover was successful they would be able to translate the transition over to the actual Cabindan revolutionaries, who weren't being informed because they weren't really trusted.

Finally, the Coils also made use of the extra time to plot out their own desperate inter-clan operation which they would hope give them some 'personal leverage' which would turn their temporary battlefield successes into a cease-fire which, in turn, would result in the lasting peace the Angolan government wasn't expecting. Indeed, theirs was a different battlefield all together.

And now, back to Cáel

{12:30 am central time, Tuesday, September 9th ~ Three days before the Great Hunt}

I doubted my home would ever look the same. A firefight had happened here and no amount of cleaning and patching up of the bullet holes would change that. The police had taken away the heavy floor lamp Dad had used in those last minutes of his life to strike at those trying to kidnap him, even if he had battled on the correct side by accident.

There was also the damage caused by the two grenades used on the property, one outside at the southeastern corner and the other inside. Grenades. I couldn't imagine any house built to withstand such blasts, though I'm sure the Amazons built them, somewhere, for some contingency. Bless their paranoid little hearts.

I began crying again. A delayed soliloquy for my departed patriarch. I had so much else to do in my life since his death, no, his murder, that I hadn't really had a good cry in a while to mourn him with the sympathy he deserved. I wondered how he'd feel finally realizing Mom was still alive, out there and reunited with her Son.

Knowing Dad it would be something like, "Don't blame her, Cáel. She had to go and you and I had to stay, so we picked up the pieces of our lives and carried on. Now that she's back, embrace the time you do have."

I never saw him stay angry with my Mom about anything, such was his love for her. Now he was gone and I had her back.

Most kids couldn't imagine how lucky I was to have two parents so dedicated to their offspring they would surrender their own happiness for that child's life. In that moment I realized I was indeed a lucky man. I had a titan of a Father who cared for me deeply and allowed me to be the best me I could be. And I had a Mother, who was a genetically engineered super-spy. What was not to love?

"Ishara," Juanita called out softly. I thought she was respecting my sorrow. "Ishara, a car has pulled up in front of the domicile." Or, maybe not.

I walked over to take a look out the front window to see who it might be. One sports sedan wasn't what I thought a hit squad would come in. The driver got out and looked my way. It was Cameron Sanders.

"I know her," I related. "We went to High School together," was added because I knew a whole host of scurrilous women who could kill me if the mood took them.

A second woman got out, this time from the passenger side. It took me a moment through the darkness to make her out under the light of the street lamp. It was Cameron's BFF in High School, Tiffany Christiansen. While not as volcanically hot as Cameron, she was definitely stroke worthy.

I had to wonder why they were here, not really. The last time I'd seen Cameron, she had this wistful smile on her face and a freshly-fucked glow ~ smile and glow courtesy of yours truly. I had then gone off to get my ass kicked by some 9 Clans hotties, one of whom was now carrying two of my offspring, Miyako. Those two local girls were walking up the walkway toward my front door.

I noticed Juanita had her Glock drawn.

"I think they are here to offer their condolences, not kill me," I reminded Juanita. Well, maybe they planned to kill me with sex, but they clearly had no clue who they were dealing with if that was the case.

"The death of your father was months ago," my bodyguard countered.

"Yes, but not everyone I went to high school with has had the chance to express their condolences over his passing," I volleyed. I also stepped up and opened the door before they could ring the bell.

"Cameron and Tiffany, long time, no see," I greeted them.

"Cáel, you look as good as ever," Cameron responded.

"I'm surprised you remember who I am," Tiffany smiled. "Cameron tells me you have so many women around you these days." She wasn't too surprised.

"Come in. Come in," I stepped aside. "The woman with me tonight is my bodyguard, Juanita Leya Antonio Garza."

"Oh," Tiffany's mouth gaped and her breath caught. "You need a bodyguard now?"

"Yes. I'm reckless. I need to be protected from myself, most often."

"Ain't that the truth," Juanita muttered.

"Juanita, this is Cameron Sanders and Tiffany Christiansen," I made the introductions. "So ladies, what brings you two to darken my doorway tonight?"

"I, I'm embarrassed to say," Cameron blushed. "I paid one of your neighbors to give me a call when you stopped by, and she did, so here we are."

"We?"

"Yes. Tiffany and I were on a girl's night out when the call came and she recalled me talking about our last encounter and wanted to see you, too," Cameron explained.

"I'm just surprised you are already the director of a Fortune 500 company," Tiffany added.

"Dad was full of surprises," I sighed. "I inherited the position from his family tree. My Mother's family came with other gifts."

"Like your Irish diplomatic position, or was that your Khanate patent of nobility?" Tiffany guessed.

"Actually, I earned my position in the Khanate, I did a friend a favor, but you are right about the Irish side being my Mother's doing," I allowed.

"So Tiffany, what have you been up to?" I tacked on.

"I'm a loan officer at Wells Fargo.

"So, you are a bastion of the Establishment," I teased.

"Yes, yes, I am. I'm crushing the hopes and dreams of the Work Class on a daily basis," she snickered. "What about you?"

"I'm nobody," I snorted.

"A director of a fortune 500 Company is hardly a 'nobody'," she countered. "Besides, aren't you engaged to a billionaire heiress?"

"That's all just window-dressing for my otherwise dull life," I insisted.

"Weren't you kidnapped several weeks ago only to be rescued by some US Marines in the middle of the Pacific?" Cameron piled on.

"I also don't remember you being this fun in High School," Tiffany added.

"We ran in different crowds, which is to say you ran with the Elite Clique while I ran in a circle of one. Even my D and D buddies didn't want to be seen with me during school hours," I joked.

"That's harsh. Well, you are definitely somebody now. In fact you may be our most distinguished alum," Tiffany pointed out.

"You aren't ashamed to be seen with us now, are you?" Cameron moved close to a cuddling contact.

"No, but let me take care of something," I disengaged and hot footed it over to Juanita.

"Just so you know, I will leave your ass here until I come back from the Great Hunt," I whispered to her, "if you so much as make one crass, or uncalled for comment. Before you decide to test me, that will mean you will have to explain to Buffy why I drove myself half way through Chicago alone. Clear?"

"As Crystal, Ishara," she grumbled.

"Thank you," I patted her on the shoulder.

"Gurr," she growled. I turned and rejoined the two ladies who were here for 'me', Mr. Sexy Stud-muffin, not 'me', Wakko Ishara.

"Care to take a tour of my home away from home?" I suggested.

"Yes."

"Sure."

"How about we start upstairs and work our way down?" I offered.

"Great," Cameron exhaled very erotically.

"I'm all for that," Tiffany agreed and off we went.

Since I knew the layout, I went last. That this gave me a view of their shapely legs and perfect asses never entered my mind, yeah, right. Cameron was in the lead so I had to give her directions. We went to my Father's room first, I had to get this emotional hurdle out of the way. I could almost hear him say, "You had company upstairs? Was your room clean?"

'Why, yes it was, Dad' I answered his phantasm.

The bathroom came next and was quickly brushed over. My room, the amalgam of two much smaller bedrooms, came last of all.

"This is a nice space," Cameron glowed as she moved over to my bed and flounced down upon it, facing us at the door.

"Are those for real?" Tiffany pointed at my weight set, a Christmas gift from my Dad from four, almost five, years gone by.

"Very."

Tiffany tried to lift my arm curl weights with little success.

"Here, let me help," I told her.

I then walked over to her, wrapped my arms around her from behind then lifted the forty-two and a half pound weight.

"You're strong," she noted. She also pushed her tushy into my much neglected hard-on.

"My roommate in New York is even stronger," I murmured into her ear.

"Is he currently seeing somebody?"

"No, but I'm not sure you are his type," I challenged her.

"Why don't you let me decide that," she looked over her shoulder. Now our faces were only inches apart.

"He's gay," I grinned.

"Oh, damn it," she punished me with her ass grinding against my crotch.

"What are you two talking about?" Cameron was feeling neglected.

"My roommate in New York City," I looked Cameron's way. "He's a famous tattoo artist, and gay. He and my best gal-pal are currently seeing to it I get a more palatial pad once I return from this excursion."

"What's your current place like?" Tiffany wasn't willing to allow Cameron to steal my attention away from her quite yet.

"It is the same place I inhabited when I was a mere intern. Nice and cozy with the external feel of a low-intensity war zone."

"In N Y C?" Cameron appeared worried. "I thought it had been cleaned up, of crime and stuff."

"Some of the local wildlife didn't get the message," I shrugged then put the weights down. I also wrapped Tiffany up in my arms on the rebound.

"You are very, muscly," she noted.

"I live a demanding life," I told her. She turned around in my arms. We made meaningful eye contact, and then began kissing.

"Wow, you are easy," Tiffany panted once we came up for air.

I noted Cameron coming off the bed, coming my way and snuggling up behind me. She wanted some attention too. I have been told I get sex effortlessly. I found that ridiculous. I lifted weights religiously, cycled like my life dependent on it, and ate the right kinds of food so I could put forward a most pleasing physique and facade which girls found attractive.

That and a persona which was equal parts masculine and playful put women around me at ease. All it took then was a bit of initiative and there you have it. I was also lucky to run across women who were looking for sex, which I admit. Being lucky enough into run across a Cameron and Tiffany two-way, okay, that happens to me way too often to be anything except exceptional lucky, but I would be remiss in ignoring them, now wouldn't I?

I shifted so I had hands around both Tiffany and Cameron's waists. Kissing Cameron came next.

"I've missed you," Cameron sighed happily. "I was a little hurt to learn you ran off and became engaged to that other woman."

"It is an arranged marriage, Cameron," I half-lied. "It helps me with my contacts in the Khanate plus I was able to repay a debt to her family by doing so."

"I figured it was something like that," she wiggled against my hip.

"Did you really think I could forget our night together, Cameron? That shower?" I taunted her.

"No, not really," she looked away while smiling wistfully.

"Well, I haven't," I assured her.

"I'm sure you haven't been, lonely," she teased right back. She was also implying I was a bit of a man-whore, which was the truth.

"Cameron, you and I shared something special. Yes, there have been other women, but none of them shared our common history, or expressed our desires with such symmetry." Yes, I was bull-shitting like a champ.

Sex with Cameron had been special for many reasons, even those beyond her being my personal demon. Not only was she Brooke-hot, our sex had actually been quite pleasant, say Odette on a good night (but not a great night).

"We did, didn't we?" Cameron was happy to assert her position as the dominant woman tonight, if not in my life as a whole.

"What about me?" Tiffany wasn't willing to concede the race to the top spot quite yet.

"I don't know you as well right now," I allowed. Even as I said those words, I pulled Cameron to me tighter.

"Here, let me become more familiar," Tiffany purred, and she did.

Fast forward two minutes and we had most of our clothes off and were on my double bed, real cozy. Cameron was on her back, head on my pillow and legs spread wide. Tiffany was above her, standing, with her beige stocking-clad legs spread even wider so that she was barely on the bed. Her black garters made a nice contrast with her pale flesh. Her palms were against my wall above my headboard.

Me? I was behind Tiffany and between Cameron's legs. I had my right hand hovering beside her love box, penetrating it with two fingers while rubbing circles around her clitoris with my thumb. Higher up, my left hand was alternating between petting Tiffany's kitty and sphincter. I was also performing anilingus on her because it turned out she really loved anal play.

Tiffany was clearly getting into the attention I was giving her, but I felt I needed to take care of Cameron first. After all, she had been nice enough to bring Tiffany along plus she was still my personal demon.

"Don't go anywhere," I told Tiffany after playfully nipping at her ass. She looked back at me with feverish eyes.

"Have I been neglecting you, Cameron," I looked down at the sweaty babe.

"Just a little," she hiccupped. I had been really riling her up with my fingers, that was for sure.

"How about I take care of you right now?" I gave her a fierce look. She nodded. While I was kissing her on the back of her knees, I palmed two condoms from my sneakily placed wallet.

I still had to be somewhat worried Pamela had sabotaged them, if Dot Ishara was sabotaging my prophylactic efforts I was plainly screwed, but I'd been keeping an eye on my wallet when she was around, which wasn't terribly comforting anyway. On one went as my kisses and licks trailed down toward her twat.

"Fuck me," she gasped. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

Hey, who was I to ignore a woman asking me to do what I wanted to do? I serpentined beneath Tiffany and worked my way up Cameron's body rapidly so that my penetration caught Cameron somewhat off-guard. I was inside her with barely a 'yip'. After the initial penetration, I began rocking us back and forth, up and down, incrementally allowing me to delve deeper.

At the entrance to her uterus, I slowed down and turned this into a slow, romantic screw. Our eyes met and our gazes locked. Cameron's and my worlds collapsed down to just the two of us, allowing Cameron to ignore her jealous Bestie staring down at us from just a foot away. At the point Cameron surrendered her resistance to her orgasm, I began to turn her over to the doggy style position.

This pressed my head against Tiffany's bosom. Yeah, I had boobs on either side of my ears. More importantly, my rocking motion as I slammed into Cameron's posh posterior were being transmitted through my body into Tiffany's. I didn't have to look up to tell she was getting into it, me fucking her friend with her getting all the pushback she could ever want.

Cameron coughed up her climax in a series of shuddering gasps. I reached down, found her clit and strummed it to create an extra level of carnal violation to the orgasmic explosion going off in her brain. When she collapsed forward, I knew I'd stunned her for the next few minutes. That would be all the time I needed to jump onto Tiffany.

And that is what I did. I removed one condom and put another one on as I slithered off Cameron then stood up behind Tiffany.

"You've been very good, Tiffany, but," I began.

"But?" she looked back at me with her hair draped over her eyes.

"But I'm going to own this ass right now."

"Oh, I like the sound of that," she rocked that ass back and forth, taunting me. Fortunately for me and my time table, I had already loosened her up for the upcoming assault. Still, I worked two fingers into her prepped bunghole, getting it covered in her elixirs. No sense being cruel and I didn't have any lotion handy.

"Huh, huh, huh, huh," she gasped as I began driving up her. Her sphincter gave way immediately thanks to my earlier efforts. In I went. God, she was tight and could really work those muscles to make this a pleasurable ride into the darkness. Like my early adventure with Cameron, I wasn't out to slam my meat deep within her. I took it nice and slow.

This allowed Tiffany to show me what a naughty slut she was. She could really work her anal muscles.

"Do this much?" I leaned down onto her back and whispered into her ear.

"Oh yes," she hissed. "My first, first boyfriend, in college, showed me how much, fun this could, be."

"Thank him for me," I grunted.

"No way," she giggled. "He was a, real asshole and, cheated on me, with my roommate." Oh, the 'me' of boyfriends.

"Let me guess," I nibbled the top of that ear, "You find it difficult to ask, other guys to do this for you."

"Yes," she gasped. "How did, you know?"

"I'm a bit of a bastard of a boyfriend. A girl who forgave me told me the same thing."

"You," she huffed. She was really sweating it now, "bad, bad boy."

"I'm never going to forget this ass," I pledged.

"Why don't, you, move to, Chicago?" she panted. By the feel of those tremors working their way through her thighs, she was on the cusp.

"Work has me constantly moving around, but I could try to make Chicago a constant layover," I proposed.

"Works, for me!" she squealed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Her orgasm shook through her like a tidal wave of lust. She trembled there for several seconds before she began to slide down. I was able to surround her waist with my arms as we collapsed back. As I began to hit my own climax, my legs started to give way as well. We collapsed back with my hard rod shooting off deep within her ass, deeper than I had ever gone before. Thankfully the condom held because I came a bucket-full.

"You two okay?" Cameron sat up on her elbows, causing her bare breasts to bounce suggestively. My cock was gearing up for round two alright.

"Just fine," I responded. Tiffany was still coming down from Cloud Nine. "How about we grab something to drink then start on round two?"

"Oh, my ass," Tiffany moaned.

"Okay, umm, I'm up for another round," Cameron smiled both over her own freedom to get more sex from me as well as her friend's discomfort, no doubt.

"Sorry, Mr. Nyilas," Juanita knocked on the open door and looked in, "but you have to get ready for your flight out of town, like right now."

"No!" I howled up at the ceiling.

"Well, can't you rescheduled your flight?" Cameron asked hopefully.

Since my itinerary had been set by Krasimira, no it couldn't.

"I'm terribly sorry ladies, but this trip, I can't put off any longer. How about we exchange numbers so we can get together the next time I come through?"

"Okay," from Cameron.

Wiggle, wiggle and then another wiggle, from Tiffany. "Are you sure?"

"Believe me both of you, I don't want to leave, but I gave my word I'd be at this meeting and a good friend will be in a world of hate if I'm late, or don't show up," I explained and lied. Felix wasn't a good friend after all.

We exchanged numbers then got dressed (under Juanita's watchful gaze) with the occasional bodies rubbing against one another and wistful glances. After I bundled the girls out, with the resulting French kisses, I locked up and go into the car with Juanita.

"You did better this time," I congratulated her.

"What do you mean?" she eyed me suspiciously.

"This was much better done than your tsunami lie back with Rhada."

"Oh, well don't think I'm not going to make sure Buffy Ishara knows about this bizarre liaison," she threatened.

"Oh, come on," I pleaded. "No lives were in danger."

"Hmm, I think your life was in danger," she griped.

"From you?"

"Yes."

"Well, we are improving our relationship," I acknowledged.

"How so?"

"A week ago you wouldn't have confessed to me you wanted to hurt me for stepping out on House Ishara."

"Oh, you have got a point there. I need to be more duplicitous," she decided.

"You don't need to. You could simply lie to Buffy."

"Not happening. I like to dream about all the pain she is going to put you through once you two are alone. Then my job will be complete."

Great, my bodyguard was getting perverse pleasure knowing the First of my House was going to scar me like her personal scratching post. Honestly, I couldn't wait to get back up with Rachel and out in the field where only the opposing side wanted to cause me personal harm. Then I could fight back with a good conscience. As it was, I was off to the Great Hunt, which would require me to arrive 24 hours to get to, according to Krasimira.

Preview of the Great Hunt

{10:15 pm, Wednesday, September 10th ~ Two days before the Great Hunt}

We were at the Send-Off dinner. It was festive. Felix and I were introduced to the thirty Amazons who would be hunting us down. In reality, it was the first chance for the thirty to meet one another, Felix and I were window dressing, their prizes. That was their set up anyway. I had other plans and had already laid the groundwork. Step one was easy. All I had to do was get Felix to trust me, implicitly.

"Excuse me," I called out from the 'head' of the table. It was a symbolic placement. They might as well placed glazed apples in the men's mouths for all our situation meant. A few quieted. I tapped my water glass with my fork. "Excuse me." I had maybe twelve of their attention. "Sisters! Shut your yaps!" I shouted. That got most of them. The few holds out were being purposely rude. No problem.

"Felix," I motioned for him to stand. When he did so, I drew my 'honor blade' and handed it to him. "Felix, I am trusting you with the honor of all Isharans, Brother to Brother. I know you will not let me down." His artfully crafted right eyebrow arched slightly then he took it.

"I won't let you down, Cáel," he clasped my other hand palm to palm and gave it two good shakes.

I hadn't told him what I planned to do because, being a smart guy, he might have figured out what I had planned, decided I was insane and refused to participate. Mainly because what I was about to ask him to do was insane.

"Sisters, all of you have blades. Will none of you offer me your honor to make this a fair contest of arms? We all know each of you have more experience than both of us," I motioned to Felix and I, "combined many times over. Who can I count on?"

No one did anything though I saw Rachel and Elsa eye me suspiciously. What I was asking for was both out of the ordinary and I 'knew better'.

"Oh, come on now," I faux-pleaded. "With all your advantages, none wish to give me a fair chance?"

"You gave your blade up," Tamarin of House Farānak noted with a sneer. "If you really thought you would need one, you shouldn't have been so hasty. I heard you were smarter than this."

I nodded then gave the assembly one last scan then sat back down.

"I am," I grinned. "I was giving the thirty of you a chance to make this a fair contest and none of you chose to do so. Now I'm going to beat you like little bitches. See, I have three Goddess on call, a series of other supernatural allies and the ability to access my ancestors. I was offering to not do any of that and all of you declined," I kept smiling.

"You would cheat?" Torm, of House Maeve darkened. That would be Katrina's #1 assassin.

"Cheat? I am doing nothing more than what you consider the value of an Honor Blade, which all of you possess. I, as your prey, was under no obligation to explain myself. You thirty, with every other advantage, chose to allow me to use these abilities."

"So, you can talk with your ancestors," Parul of House Nammu shrugged. "Big deal."

"By all means, tell that to Ajax and his War band," Elsa's words dripped with sarcasm. "Oh. You are not an augur, so you can't. Ajax the Unconquered, who no Amazon, or Trojan, could touch, traded blows with Wakko Ishara and now his few survivors will be burying him among his kinsmen on Salamis."

Later that night:

"What they would not allow by ego, you permit by reason," Felix verbally congratulated me. What he meant was I had ensured the Amazons would come at me first. My worry was Felix wouldn't get a chance to shine with the added concern I could recover far faster than him so encouraging the Amazons to strike at me first increased our mutual chance of survival.

"If you think it is bad now, wait until I start praying," I told him.

"And you are sure you want me to knock you out for this to work?" Felix was perplexed.

"It is how this has to work. I wish it wasn't, trust me," I confirmed.

Together we walked out of the Hapantali Freehold's main building and looked up at the Moon.

We were in the southern half of Argentina, closer to Patagonia than I ever thought I'd get though not so far south I actually got to see any penguins. No, we were in the Southern Hemisphere's version of the Northern Hemisphere's Great Plains, though at the southern extreme of said feature. It was bone-numbing cold this far south that was for sure. It wasn't spring here yet on this side of the globe.

"Is your stamina going to be up for this cold?" Felix inquired.

"It had better be. I know we are only getting a light coat and light sleeping bag for our journey."

"And this is all going to be on horseback," Felix frowned. He had only gotten two weeks training with the Epona on horsemanship having no previous lore.

"It wouldn't be Amazon if they weren't stacking the odds in their favor," I bumped him. "That is something you have to get used to around here. They play to win."

"Thus them inside choosing up sides," he scoffed.

"They are not just choosing up sides to capture us, but to fend off the others should they be the first to capture us," I reminded him.

"I'm already trying to figure out where to hide your nifty little knife so they don't take it off me when I get bound," Felix surprised me, by insinuating he could be captured.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I figure I'll get captured trying to rescue your ass, Nyilas, then have to save both of us."

"Asshole," I snorted.

"Realist," he replied.

"Let's go to sleep. It is going to be a tough three days."

"That's the damn truth," Felix conceded. "Come on." And off we went.

 To be continued.

By FinalStand for Literotica.