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Sultan Khushal Khan

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Port Gulbandar
PRN Tariq

"How is the situation today, Lt Irfan?"

"The same as yesterday Capt. They have made no sign of aggression, it seems they like us are waiting for the negotiations to fail"

"Lets hope we get the news faster than they do. If anything changes ill be in my quarters. You know what to do."

With that Capt Gulsher Zaman left the bridge. Sirens sounded as the morning drill ended and the crew returned from the battle stations. Lt Irfan took the state and then dismissed the junior offrs. Rest was also important. It would not do if war erupted and the crew was not properly rested to operate the ship. The Lt returned to his quarters. The ship was in a state of high alert tensions were high. "I hope I can get some good sleep" thought the Lt as he lay on his bunk.

The ship was a destroyer whose weapons started across another similar ship from the Holy See over a still ocean. The weather was calm, wind was minimal, all signs pointed to good weather throughout the day. It would have been a beautiful day to enjoy the flower gardens of Gulbandar but the ship like all others in its fleet was in open water staring across it to its designated targets, guns loaded, waiting for the command that will unleash fury upon the foes of Pukhtunkhwa.

Attock Fort
ML HQ neutral meeting zone

All the players had been gathered Madame Ovara Azazhuna representing the Holy See, Mechthild Müntefering for Ormata, Isaak for Helvianir and Minister Bahram Khan representing Pukhtunkhwa. The debate had been going on for the past couple of days with no signs of any side reaching a compromise.

Bahram Khan knew what was the next step and now he just wanted to end this meeting as soon as possible. Just get this charade over with. It was now his turn to speak “Ok this is going nowhere I think we can all agree that giving sole ownership of he canal to Vespia is out of the question since most of your claims are pure fabrication. While I know that we cannot legally do anything about the slaves inside your empire I also am going to side with my colleagues from Ormata and Helvianir on their stance that kidnapping people from other countries and bringing them to the Holy See without consent will have repercussions. You have failed to convince us with your arguments. We still give you one chance to turn back your armies from the canal region. If not you will have war on your hands”. Bahram knew ofcourse that they will not back down, he had observed as much during Madame Ovara’s speech. The meeting ended with the See delegate storming out of the room. Bahram knew what was coming next and so did Isaak and Mechthild by the looks of it. He sent out the alert from his phone. War had been declared it was time to strike.

Port Gulbandar
Fort Gulbandar Command Center

The message from Pukhtunkhwa had come. The Signal Battalion had confirmed that it had Lord bahram Khan’s personal code. A warning had been issued, sirens sounded in the city, announcements from the speaker network gave civilians guidelines to head to the nearest safety point. Civilians were asked to take essentials and evacuate areas that were likely to be targeted. There was no where else they could go so they were asked to seek shelter in community buildings away from any potential targets. Some had started evacuating to the countryside away from the city. MP guided the civilians and maintained order, the citizens of Pukhtunkhwa who were within age limit were asked to report to the Fort Armories to help defend the civilian shelters. The sounds of vehicles and people shouting filled the air as families evacuated and young men were saying their goodbyes before reporting to the armories.

Soldiers were heading to battle stations, missiles were armed and ready to launch and commanders filled the command center as they planned their next move. General Amir Zarmeen looked over the maps once more as he finalized the strategy to defend the port. He would consult with his junior commanders about the tactics. War had begun, their allies in the east had begun to move, reinforcements from Port Ghazi had departed from there. “”Issue the orders all ships are to be in position and maintain the blockade, They are to open fire at the first sign of hostilities.” barked General Amir and the radios were abuzz as the orders were conveyed across all channels.

Then it began. The skies were filled with light and smoke as the missiles were fired from the port and the ships. They were a response to missiles fired from the See ships. The city was filled with sounds of explosions as the artillery batteries opened fire at the invading forces. This was one of the places where Pukhtunkhwa was superior, the range and speed of their artillery was unparalleled since it had been one of the few focuses of the military for so long. War had begun.


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Aquilonem Ocean
First Fleet

“General Quarters, General Quarters!”

The bells starting to ring, a buzzing that kept on repeating throughout the ship as information came-in. The Holy Sun had begun their assault on the Canal, begun to launch missiles and aircraft off their decks, and Admiral Ullmann stood at the bridge. The Admiral was not a very joyous man, though he harbored a special sort of distaste towards these bastards. They were primitives, in their bloody way, and whatever evidence to the contrary was thoroughly dismissed in his mind. They could dress-up in western clothing, play their games, but they were religious savages nonetheless. He felt, to a smaller degree, the same way about the Pukhtunkhwans, but at least they were not fools about it. These bastards, though? They were.

They were at war all the same, though.

“Launch Flight Bruno, I want them in the air by the end of the minute,” came the Captain’s orders, as he watched the radar. Across the fleet, those same actions were being taken. The three carriers they had brought, nearly all of that firepower, were each launching their fighters, little pinpricks of fire in the sky as they flew into formation. The Captain was less joyous about his options; they faced an enemy with a great amount of firepower, not only that a nuclear enemy who possessed all the ability to end the world as they knew it. He would’ve preferred, to everything, an uneasy peace to this bloody war.

“Put me to the Fleet,” the Admiral said, to their Comm Officer. She tapped away, nodding, and in her own mind was pretending that it was all just an exercise, that everything was normal and that this wasn’t a war. Everything was just an exercise, a training, at the end of it they’d take a deep breath and then do it again and do it better. She tapped it out, and despite her willingness to try and turn it all into a little fantasy her hands were sweating.

“You’re on,” she said, motioning briefly to a microphone. He would be in every room of the Navy, every channel, in every speaker and in every cockpit. Her fingers danced across the console, lighting-up a pale face and brown hair as though with a flashlight, and the officer’s eyes darted from different points, concentrating just on the job at hand and nothing else. Don’t worry about the missiles, she thought to herself, don’t worry about the enemy. That’s not the job you were trained to do. Worry about the channels, she told herself, worry about what you can change.

“Sailors of the Fleet, attention. Today we move forwards into history. Today the Holy Sun has elected to receive and we, in turn, shall not disappoint them. It is the prerogative of these savages that they should go to war and they have done so with all the enthusiasm they hold. Do not hold back, do not hesitate. The nation, and the world, stands with you.”

And so, the microphone was turned-off and the orders distributed. The first wave of missiles, targeting the Helvianiran and Pukhtunkhwan warships which were, geographically, far more ahead of the Ormati fleets, gave the Ormatis a reprieve, something they took full advantage of. The cruiser began to let-loose with a storm of missiles, the front decks of the Taigas looking as though they were just pillars of red-hot flame and exhaust smoke as the spears pointed upwards to touch the sky. The CIWS on every warship came online, waiting for the incoming enemy that would surely come. Fighters were scrambled into the sky.

They were at war.


First Fleet:
  • ONV-CV-Izmaylov
  • ONV-CV-Nazazma
  • ONV-CV-Balache
  • ONV-C-Madigan
  • ONV-C-Freundel
  • ONV-C-Salzding
  • ONV-C-Westlen
  • ONV-C-Argenmomble
  • ONV-C-Avinesse
  • ONV-C-Neunrode
  • ONV-DD-Hardbrunn
  • ONV-DD-Kirchbirn
  • ONV-DD-Denderren
Second Support Fleet:
  • ONV-C-Nottebohm
  • ONV-DD-Zothal
  • ONV-DD-Houissis
  • ONV-SU-Guglielmi
  • ONV-SU-Bencivenga
  • ONV-SU-Baldassarre
Third Squadron:
  • U-37
  • U-38
  • U-39
  • U-30
  • U-31
  • U-32
  • U-33
  • U-34
  • U-40
  • U-41
  • U-42
  • U-43
1. Truppe:
  • 102. Volksjäger-Division
  • 136. Volksjäger-Division
  • 157. Volksjäger-Division
  • 33. Mechanized Volksleichte-Division
  • 7. Lagunari-Division
  • 12. Panzer-Division
There was no noise other than the flutter of helicopters that clear morning. The gentle breeze would have made for a nice beach day, but current political conditions had not permitted that. Lieutenant Acharya had fallen asleep against the wheel of a armored truck. Their team had been escorting land based anti ship missiles lately, they had been moving them from coast to coast every three hours to make sure they hadn’t been targeted. Schedules were updated every thirty minutes digitally to make sure their maritime enemies hadn’t gotten the jump on them.

“Lieutenant Acharya, time to wake up my brother!” Captain Deeb exclaimed, he laid his heavy hand upon Acharya’s shoulder. Captain Deeb was a man of heavy stature, his hands falling upon the shoulders of the Lieutenant felt like hammers slamming at a nail.

“I am awake.” Acharya sighed, stood up and waltzed over to the missile launcher to lean on it, yawning and brushing sand out of his eyes. Then turned to Captain Deeb, “Are we moving again, Captain?”

“We will depart in fifteen minutes.” Captain Deeb had recalled, “Oh! You have forgotten to tell me! What news of your…” He stopped mid sentence.

“What is the matter, Captain?” No response was made, the Captain just pointed at a streak of missiles making their way across the ocean sky. The anti-ship missile vehicle began whirring to life, as the system autonomously tracked a target out of visual range. A booming sound loomed as artillery shells were fired in the far distance. Beyond human eyesight, but evidently in radar range.

“Lieutenant! Get me Major Halabi with the Air Force, now!” The Captain barked with an aggression and urgency in his voice. The lieutenant nodded and complied, he sprinted towards a jeep with an extended radio device protruding from the back of it.

An artillery shell landed just in front of it sending shrapnel flying, two enlistees grabbed the Lieutenant, asking if he was suicidal and pulled him back into the safety of the armored truck he had slept against earlier. More naval artillery landed, the sound terrifying and even more terrifying was the impending death that was signified by the whistle of the artillery rounds.

Captain Deeb had wrestled control of the anti-ship missile. It was a Raad surface-to-surface missile, capable of hitting any targets within 360 kilometers, skimming the surface barely above ground for cover from air defense radars. They had been advertised well, the Lieutenant prayed for them to work.

Suddenly the massive anti ship missile took off from its rail, hovering above the ground as it ran itself across the surface. A small white contrail in it’s wake, tracking its target, their hopes had rested with those missiles, and with the Navy.

Ghazi Canal Residential Area

The road had been clogged with vehicles for the past ten minutes as artillery rounds landed. But the vehicles didn’t go anywhere. They had been broken, and the windows smashed by missiles and surface bombardment, and a dead child lay in the streets clutching a doll in her arms. A pair of parents clutched the teenager they thought had been getting his first job that morning, and a gas leak without odor caused by an artillery strike had killed people without many visible wounds.Pukhtunkwha may have had a fire superiority in artillery, but in the past hundred years, the basic principles stayed the same. One of those was that you could never separate the civilians from the soldiers, but it never had discriminated anyways. Though it was part of an undeniable truth that the war had come to the Holy Sun, whether it had invited it or not.

Evacuations were hasty, none happened very well when little notice was given, cars clogged streets as the military had struggled to keep up with the flow of refugees exiting the city trying to keep things orderly. As cars jammed the streets, people started abandoning them and running, a good tactic, some made it, others didn’t. And others just thought it was enemy propaganda, like Fajr’s family.

Another child wandered the streets. Child was arguable, he was 19, fit to fight. His father was in the Air Force, among those to be sent to stop the slaughter that night. Or be a part of it, depending on how it was viewed. He walked through the streets feeling empty, clutching the forearm of his dead brother, detached. Though he didn’t want to know that as he muttered to himself incoherently. Fajr walked by an armored vehicle, a guided missile had landed in it perfectly creating a large hole in it’s armor, transmission fluid and blood created a sickly pool of liquid leaking out of the bottom of it. The vehicle’s two-way radio was busy but the voices calm as radio operators in various military units helped organize a counter offensive which was going to take place in the next day or so, but for the night being they had to minimize damage until a lull in activity was seen or the Navy managed to arrive in full force.

As anti-aircraft fire streaked across the sky, illuminating it, fighter jets streaked over dropping precision guided bombs on military airbases. They dropped flares in an attempt to evade missiles, it made the sky look very pretty in it’s display of violence. As man attempted the unnatural act of flying, he too bloodied the sky.

Holy Sun, Aerial Fighter Squadron No.16
1st Colonial Aircraft Wing

Major Halabi breathed heavily as he resisted the force of gravity in his JF-17 Thunder fighter aircraft. He maneuvered his aircraft in an attempt to get a gun solution on the Ormatan fighter aircraft he had been chasing down. It was a MiG-29K, a slightly newer update of a fairly old Ormatan fighter design.

The JF-17 was a bit newer, built to be a counter to the Kiravo-Umcaran origin F-16 Fighting Falcon introduced in 1979, but despite that, the JF-17 came into service in the 2003. It came with updated avionics but still a bit late. Still, it posed a threat to any fourth generation fighter aircraft in the sky.

Then he saw it, the gun piper aligned itself with the Ormatan aircraft. Halabi may have been old but his fighter pilot reflexes didn’t cease, he pressed the trigger immediately and fired a burst of cannon rounds into the wing of the Ormatan fighter aircraft, tearing it apart. The Ormatan ejected, but the parachute deployed early and he ended up slamming into the vertical stabilizer of the MiG-29K. If he wasn’t dead, he was going to wake up with a nasty headache.

“Good kill, Major!” His wingman reported in. Major Halabi scanned the horizon for his wingman. He saw nothing.

“Two, where are you?” Harabi asked.

“Two is below you.” Captain Fareed reported in.

“Spirit 2-1 this is Command, do you copy?”

“I copy.” Major Harabi exhaled into his breathing mask. Then blinked his eyes, shutting them for a good fifteen seconds to prevent autokinesis. The Major had been awake for about twelve hours and was on heavy energy supplements.

“We have more targets for you to prosecute, you’re going to engage Ormatan fighters sweeping at vector 1-5-0. Can you engage?”

Major Harabi checked his missile loadout, he had three radar guided air-to-air missiles left, and one infrared guided missile left. It was going to be a long sortie, he prayed silently to his Gods, he didn’t ask for anything, just thanked them for the life he had lived so far.
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An explosion in the distance rattled the bridge of the FNM Anielle Agro, momentarily interrupting the argument that had dominated the room for the last half hour. The freighter's helmsman, a twenty-three year old fresh out of college, spoke up after a moment. "I think that was an Ormatan fighter," he said, "I saw the markings."

"Pay attention to where we're going, not what's happening in the distance," the ship's executive officer said curtly before turning back to his ongoing feud with the chief engineer and the second officer. "We should be getting the hell out of here. The longer we stay here, the longer we're at risk."

The three senior officers had spent the better part of twenty minutes arguing about how to proceed, ever since the sight of shells and missiles flying overhead led the deck officer to sound muster stations. The executive officer wanted to run, as several ships already had from the line of civilian vessels that had been waiting to use the Ghazi Canal. But the chief engineer felt that suicide, given that it'd mean piloting the ship between several warring fleets. He preferred instead to stay put, hoping that the ship's civilian transponder would protect it. The second officer wanted to drop anchor, leave a couple volunteers behind to guard the ship, and send the rest to a remote area of the coast on a lifeboat. Several ships had also taken that option.

The reality was that there was no good option. It was unthinkable to ask a couple officers to stay behind to watch the ship. Yet running through a war zone seemed an even worse idea. And staying put hardly made the ship any more likely to survive, given that the line of civilian vessels was right smack dab in the middle of the canal harbor. The ship's captain, Giorgio Capon, knew that all too well. He'd known it when he and his crew had agreed, in return for triple pay, to take the ship through the canal despite the risk of war. There was a reason the line was only a tenth as long as usual; most masters had been smart enough to find another route.

The captain finally spoke, however, upon seeing the reflection of a parachute in the distant sky. The Ormatan pilot had ejected, it appeared. "We'll do what the marine code says," Capon stated, referencing the fact that technically, all Faramanian mariners were party of the nation's reserve navy. "We'll provide humanitarian assistance to anyone and everyone that needs it. Nobody wants to leave a pilot or a sailor in the drink," Capon broke up his Italian with the English language idiom that even non-English speaking sailors now knew, "the best way for us to protect ourselves is to make every side not want to kill us."

The three senior officers all seemed about ready to object, but Capon held up a hand. "We all knew what we were getting into with this job. Any plan we take has a good chance of us dying. If we're gonna die, I say we give ourselves a good path to heaven." He looked at the XO. "We've got two dinghies onboard, plus the lifeboat. I want you to put a crew on each, and have them start picking people up. Start with that pilot in the distance, before he drowns." He then turned to the second officer. "And get out a radio call to the other civilian ships. See if anyone else wants to help us."

After a moment, the officers nodded, and got to work, seeking desperately to avoid the sounds of the battle around them.
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Sultan Khushal Khan

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Battle at Azhinakov Pass
Ashgani Glacier
128 Company, 43rd SSG Unit

“Just when I thought we were free of snow we have to climb on a glacier again.”

“Bear with it. This should have been expected as our commander is the Great Ice Wall” replied Naib Subedar Yaqub Shah

The section led by Yaqub Shah was one of the many sections from 128 Company climbing the Ashgani glacier. The Varshaninans had till now only faced tribes living in the plains. They did not know the true terror of mountain warfare. Pukhtuns on the other hand were born in the mountains. It was their second home and for centuries dominated the battlefields in their fights against the southreners and each other. Varshan had bunkers protecting the important passes but the surrounding glaciers and tracks had remained unprotected and unexplored. This particular glacier would help them bypass the bunkers and attack them from their rear. The passage was small though in places one man could barely pass through and there was a thousand foot drop if your foot slipped. This particular SSG unit was chosen fro the operation because they had been trained to fight in these conditions, tasked with protecting the icy glaciers and highpasses in Skardu before being posted here.

Battle at Haraniyaku Pass
Somwhere behind the Vespian lines
94 Company, 43rd SSG Unit

Capt Usman had positioned his troops on a summit directly behind the vepian defense line. They had secured themsleves with ropes to the mountian side and their winter camoflauge completely hid tthem from view. They only waited for the guard shift when the bunkers would eb at their most velnerable to commence the attack.

Battle at Teragoni Pass
110 Company, 43rd SSG Unit

110 Company under Capt Sher Khan had a different plan there was a supply convoy coming along the pass and they waited for it to arrive. They would use it to draw out the Varshan forces from the bunker. They had set up the traps and now waited for the convoy ready for ambush.

Quetzenkelistan Eastern Border
HQ Border Defense Force

“Sir latest intelligence reports state that an army from Varshan has entered the tribal lands. ETA to our border is 36 hrs” reported Maj Ghamgeen Tarakai

“What is the status of the Engineers?” asked Gen Hamid Rauf

“The mines have been deployed and the obstacle placed. Our positions have been fortified” replied Maj Ghamgeen

“Convey these orders to everyone. Those tribes on the other side of the defense line have rejected our offer to protect them. They must not be allowed near our defenses lest the Varshan forces take advantage of the situation” ordered Gen Hamid “Also he navy is to standby for support fire”

Somewhere in the Vespian North
Unknown Building, Unknown City

“Ma’am they have arrived”

“Ok it’s time to begin”

A lady entered a dark room and sat at the head of the table in its center. Armed gunmen stood at the sides of the room and nearly 20 men in expensive suits sat at the table. These were heads of criminal syndicates operating within the northern Varshan. The lady was Natalia Janick Revati the head of the Revati crime family and owner of the Revati group of industries

“I have gathered you all here today at the behest of one of our mutual friends. A change is coming the days of Varshan are numbered. You all gathered today are those loyal to our cause. It is time for us to choose. Shall we die with the state or rule in a new world order.”
Dwemer Bay, Helvianirian First Fleet


Far from the main fleet, the UFNV Cathy was laying mines, it was clear that the Varshans were hellbound for armed conflict with their own allies, so the Cathy was tasked with laying down mines as a defensive measure.

The radar picked up several blips to the east, at the time, nobody batted an eye, but they probably should have. Lieutenant Kjellborg assumed that these blips were commercial freightliners looking to pass the canal, and per usual, Kjellborg radioed the blips one by one, saying the exact same words over and over again ‘This is the UFNV Cathy, Do not get close to our ship’ a death sentence.

Several blips moved past but two moved quickly towards the Cathy, and as quickly as the blips showed up, as quickly as the deck crew had a visual.
Seaman Salomon Ekland was on deck watching the mine laying, his eyes were getting watery because of the bright reflection, he looked up and blinked, then he saw a gigantic warship, not as large as any Helvianirian ship, but decent, maybe a tiny bit old. Then Ekland saw the flag.

The Varshan ship launched their anti-ship weaponry, mostly missiles, towards the tiny Cathy, a mostly defenseless ship. Alarms went off, and everyone who knew a damn about warding off missiles was manning the few, fairly outdated defense measurements.
On the bridge, Captain Markusson tried to radio into the admiral, but apparently, Mister admiral had no time for the captain, an assistant was there to answer calls, it’s true, the first fleet is a shadow of itself, and while the government tries to make it better, its hard to teach an old dog some new tricks.

While the captain was trying to explain the situation to the assistant, a loud whizzing was overwhelming the bridge, and it only got louder and louder, until, a bright flash.
Ekland was trying to take everything in, but then he saw it, the bridge was hit, it smoldered and smelled like a candle was blown out next to a barbecue that was surrounded by a firework installation, it was weird. But something was dripping, something wet was dripping on Ekland's cheek, he tried to clean it away, and then gave up. His lower arm was dyed red, blood. Ekland was bleeding, as shrapnel from the impact made its way to several people on deck.

Below the deck, the head of engineering Ludde was told that he was captain now, but that the bridge is no more. Not that it matters. The ship was blind in the water, and it was chaos, and thus Ludde announced that all sailors must grab white textiles and bind them to something, then evacuate the ship, and then wave their white cloth in the hopes that the Varshans showed some sort of mercy.

Ekland threw a rubber boat next to the Cathy and jumped into it, followed with several other sailors, this happened several times, as most sailors escaped, they began waving white cloths while moving slowly away from the Cathy, which wasn't fully empty… Then, a bright flash, the Cathy was hit again. Ludde was still below deck, he felt the shockwave, a torpedo most likely just hit the ship, slowly the engine room was filling up with water, slowly, the ship was sinking.

Ekland saw a few rubber boats in the distance from the Varshan Navy, they got closer and closer, until Ekland and his comrades looked right into the eyes of the enemy. Without warning, a man said something in Varshan, grabbed an automatic rifle, aimed at Ekland and the others.

then, blank.

Ekland was killed, and so were others, they were shot, even though they surrendered, the Cathy was smoldering in flames as it slowly sank. The tiny Cathy never stood a chance, and her crew, all died.

The monsters were on their way

UFV The Borealis - Mouth of the Canal

Admiral Daelman overlooked the flight deck of the Borealis, a ship that beared the marks of its royal heritage. For days the coalition has been fighting against the Varshan menace, suffering heavy losses. A fleet that arrived with a mere 24 ships was now standing on crutches with 10 ships, a shame. Mismanagement? Perhaps.

But none of it seemed to phase Daelman, once considered the most powerful man in the navy, now, a lonely shadow of himself. Most of the time Daelman was drunk, even when ships are sinking, Daelman saw more of the bottle, then of the battle.
Then there is the sense of a power struggle between Daelman and Colonel Johansson, who was the fleet air wing commander, and lately, advising ship captains, it was mopping with the tap wide open, when Johansson decided to retreat, Daelmen stepped in with his bottle, and demanded the captains to hold on a little longer.

As Daelman was looking over the flight deck, and taking a sip of his mead, Johansson was busy preparing a wing to aid the LCS Fireknight, which has found itself in a corner.
It’s simple Major, get in there, and allow the Fireknight to retreat while you give air support.’ said Johansson as she stepped away.

Flight 2 - Major Mattson

Alright boys, you heard the Colonel, we need to save the day.’ Mattson smugly said over the radio.

Amateurs, sir. Amateurs!’ Reynolds said jokingly. Mattson laughed it away ‘Now now Rey, you can’t say that. They are inexperienced, not amateurs.’ Raske said ‘Yeah yeah boys, keep your eyes peeled, bogey at 9 o’clock’ Mattson interrupted

Not interested in us boss, let's focus on the mission.’ Raske observed.
They were approaching the location of the Fireknight, the latest ship added to the navies roster, unknowingly to its crew, they were in for a world of pain, as two Varshan ships cornered it. ‘Captain Henegouwen, prepare to retreat to the rendezvous point’ Mattson said over the radio.

Mattson made a run for one of the Varshan ships and launched an AGM-119 towards it