The War of Mexican Intervention? (~1995)
- Thread starter Blochead
- Start date
Constantinople
Banned
Hmm, because with all these space elevators, it would be much "easier" to send many many people up there....
Constantinople
Banned
You have talked of the successes of Africa and South Africa specifically.
ACSU is still a collection of states correct, but led by South Africa?
Also, what is South Africa like? Are the boers still a significant minority?
ACSU is still a collection of states correct, but led by South Africa?
Also, what is South Africa like? Are the boers still a significant minority?
Constantinople
Banned
I must ask: What are the Falklands like at this point? Recently some mineral wealth was found there, so maybe its a real nice place by 2100.
Lots of questions...
The ACSU is still basically an alliance lead by South Africa... The Boer population is smaller now, though the non-Boer whites and Asian immigrants have grown in size fairly significantly.
The Falklands are basically a large military base maintained by the Brits and a PAC lease. During the war it got pretty heavily pounded since a lot of defense infrastructure was built during the leadup. They remain an important outpost in the post-war world.
Also, while I don't have any chronologically new material, I did find a two-part vignette that somehow didn't make its way into the timeline...
Southern Venezuela, 2070
One day four hours until Reload
They say that in the worst kinds of quiet, when the only sounds were miles away, you could hear the high-pitched sound of the nanites buzzing in your bloodstream and CNS.
It was more likely that I had a case of tinnitus, despite the carbon-composite shell wrapped around me. Having a few tons of steel and ceramic magnetically catapulted to Earth a few miles away every few hours could do that to you.
I didn’t sleep much anymore. And with the cocktail of nanotech and combat drugs they issued us, did you really need to? It made you tense as hell though. Even if your body seemed sluggish, your mind was charged up and waiting to explode. My fingers had been tapping to some old ‘50s dancebeat on my rifle’s stock while the minutes went by.
There were two companies of us here in what used to be a Venezuelan suburb, but I felt like the only one. Communications silence was essential, and none of us were in each other’s LOS so even tightbeam laser was forbidden.
But there were many of the Connies. Those suckers thought they’d cleared us out with the EMP bombs and arty and were going to push while they knew the lunar railgun was waiting for an ammo shipment from good old Terra Firma. Not on our watch.
I zoomed my suit’s camera eyes in a bit more, looking for insignia under the Community of Nations emblem. Brazilians. So these guys were more likely to be fresh, but green too. They were probably more shaken up than we were. Their formation was sloppy, and from what his sensors told him, the Pantera MBT had its systems frazzled from the Brazilian’s own EMP blasts.
The guy with the HyVeloc launcher was supposed to make the first call. He was probably waiting to get the tank so it’d roadblock the rest of the column. The huge jungle-painted beast stopped just before an intersection as the Brazilian soldiers fanned out to check the area. None of them seemed to notice the PAC soldiers in the buildings overlooking the plaza.
It was very surreal to watch them search, though. They had semi-adaptive camo that, no matter how much you saw it, was too alien in its chameleon-like patterns. Wading among the remains of what had once been a vibrant plaza, their equipment-laden jog contrasted with my mental image of what this had once been, a place to relax and stroll, not too much different from any other suburban community in the developed world.
The bang-shriek of the HyVeloc launcher slammed me back into the present. The nanotech-refined ceramic coated DU slug moved too fast to register with the human eye, all I saw was molten metal and smoke erupting from the vehicle as the Brazilian crew struggled to get out.
I didn’t have time to watch the gruesome spectacle. A chorus of gunfire marked the true beginning of the ambush, and I joined in. My coil-rifle spat a precise burst of three rounds at 2000 RPM and the nano-enhancement on my CNS kept it steady. After a few more bursts, I ran through the derelict flat to find a new position. The blast of a thermobaric grenade from my old perch told me I’d made the right decision.
The radio calls were getting more frantic as iron cloudbursts filled the sky. Artillery. I think it was ours because if the ‘smart shells’ are really as intelligent s they say, there were too many Brazilians writhing in the streets for the barrage to be theirs.
I squeezed off a few more shots and was rewarded with a heavy machine gun tearing through the apartment like tissue paper. Time to move again.
This time I didn’t outrun the thermobaric. As I cleared the door to the hall, the blast on the floor below me sucked the oxygen out of the room (thank LockMart for the M606’s NBC capability) and sent me tumbling through the hole it’d created. Drywall and various other construction material showered down through the gap, and after a brief moment I got up and started looking for a way out. Too many Brazilians out on the streets; the backyard was not looking any better.
There were tunnels through these towns when we’d been clearing the Community out the first time, in case we’d decided to nuke the place and people needed to stay underground. They were good enough for roving guerillas too. I ran through down to the stairwell and listened for a bit. The radio chatter wasn’t sounding good. Most of my company was nonfunc or dead. Kicking open the basement door, I saw that I wouldn’t need any tunnels: there was a reinforced hatch and an old service elevator.
I almost didn’t notice the thermobaric that clattered just a few yards away.
****.
Six hours until Reload
I don’t know what woke me. Maybe the click-click-click of the Geiger counter, because there was nothing else to hear.
I rolled over and groaned. But the pain was distant. The suit’s medical system had pumped me full of painkillers and nanites to keep me going. I checked the clock… I’d been out for more than a day. Thank god thermobarics were pressure weapons and not armor-crackers, or I’d be a dead man by now.
But why was that damn Geiger counter going off? I checked the levels on my retinal projection… Low. Very low. Good basement this was, and good armor I was wearing. Then again, neutron bombs these days were designed to be short effect weapons so you could march in earlier and retake the territory. I got up, sat around for an hour while I reorganized myself. I scanned the frequencies, static and the occasional high-power transmission from miles away. Then I amped up the acoustic sensor. Nothing human moving in the immediate area. Exhaling sharply into my respirator, I crawled out of the wreckage of the apartment building and surveyed the streets. Everything was dead. The bodies from the previous day littered the ground, and around them were the carcasses of the scavengers caught in the blast. A Pantera hull smoldered quietly, the ghostlike wisps were the only things moving among the gray, battered cityscape.
The blasts couldn’t have been direct though. I looked towards Santa Elena de Uarien. That was where it was focused around, near the main highways. If there were any survivors… Well, PAC survivors anyway.
I scanned freqs again. No point in drawing more attention to myself than necessary by transmitting. Protocol meant nobody was going to answer.
I checked my rifle to make sure the thing still worked, and then set about gathering ammunition and any equipment I’d missed in the firefight. No point in grabbing extra food, it might be contaminated. I did grab the other guys’ tablets of purification chemicals and medical supplies.
The GPS satellite feed was working, which was good. At least I could know where I was going. I needed something more concrete though.
Climbing carefully back up one of the apartments in the ruined block, I looked towards the main city. Smoke streamed out, and in the afternoon dusk, no electric lights showed. Not even the occasional explosion or a squirt of tracers.
I’d never felt more alone in my life. My goal was to be anywhere closer to Santa Elena but here by sometime tonight. I don’t aim high. No point when the Community lobs nukes whenever the Pan American Combine gets too deep into their turf for comfort.
Amazingly, the audio files I’d put on the ‘personal allocation’ of the suit mainframe drive were still working. Well, maybe not amazingly. The computer was made so that it’d only be taken out if I was.
So I walked through a dead city listening to ‘40s Electric Western, all drums and buzzing, reverb-packed guitar. If it was a movie, my musical choice was probably horrible in taste.
After two hours of walking, my suit alerted me to something. I cut the music and ducked to cover in an alleyway, readying my rifle.
I poked it around the corner, zooming in on the figure. Definitely Community manufacture PA, the exact country, I dunno. But the way he walked, he looked alone. And it didn’t look like he knew I was there. Probably just another poor ******* trying to get to friendly territory. He’d been going the opposite direction of me, away from the PAC advance. And there was probably a Brazilian counter-attack on the way that would scoop him up.
He was wounded too, scavenging through the cars pushed to the sides of the street for something, maybe shelter or supplies. He was obviously desperate, and from the look of his tired figure, he didn't have too much. I don’t know why, but I switched on the suit’s amplifier and yelled “Hola!” He swung around, jittery but with a quick draw, whipping his rifle around. He paused for a second, yelling what I think was “Who is it?” or the like in Portuguese or Spanish. I honestly didn’t take time to translate.
Bad choice. As impulsively as I’d called for the man, I’d shot him. Four rounds enveloped him in a cloud of dust and dark mist in the middle of the street, some part of him or his equipment clattering against an abandoned car.
His words and my gunshots rolled through the dead city, echoed, and faded away. Creeping over carefully, I snatched up his dried MRE packets and kept going. Didn’t see any need to do otherwise. You just walked away. Eventually the blood would dry and cake with dust, and he’d just be one more byproduct of human conflict left to waste in the grand chaos of war. I’d killed plenty like him. Just because it was just us two didn’t make it any different, I supposed.
And I had to get moving. I was already imagining I could feel the hum and vibration of Brazilian and Argentine divisions rolling up to meet my weakened allies. Maybe I was going nuts, but if you'd been around on the Darien Gap and the Andean campaign as long as I had, you'd know when the CoN likes to attack.
The sky was started to clear up a bit but it was dulled by the near permanent veil of smoke that spewed from the urban battlefield. Gradually as the night war on, sound returned. Hypersonic aircraft racing to meet the oncoming forces and missiles from both sides raced far above my head. I started walking a little faster. They were just the opening salvos against a Community counter-attack that couldn’t be any more than half a day away now.
The ACSU is still basically an alliance lead by South Africa... The Boer population is smaller now, though the non-Boer whites and Asian immigrants have grown in size fairly significantly.
The Falklands are basically a large military base maintained by the Brits and a PAC lease. During the war it got pretty heavily pounded since a lot of defense infrastructure was built during the leadup. They remain an important outpost in the post-war world.
Also, while I don't have any chronologically new material, I did find a two-part vignette that somehow didn't make its way into the timeline...
Southern Venezuela, 2070
One day four hours until Reload
They say that in the worst kinds of quiet, when the only sounds were miles away, you could hear the high-pitched sound of the nanites buzzing in your bloodstream and CNS.
It was more likely that I had a case of tinnitus, despite the carbon-composite shell wrapped around me. Having a few tons of steel and ceramic magnetically catapulted to Earth a few miles away every few hours could do that to you.
I didn’t sleep much anymore. And with the cocktail of nanotech and combat drugs they issued us, did you really need to? It made you tense as hell though. Even if your body seemed sluggish, your mind was charged up and waiting to explode. My fingers had been tapping to some old ‘50s dancebeat on my rifle’s stock while the minutes went by.
There were two companies of us here in what used to be a Venezuelan suburb, but I felt like the only one. Communications silence was essential, and none of us were in each other’s LOS so even tightbeam laser was forbidden.
But there were many of the Connies. Those suckers thought they’d cleared us out with the EMP bombs and arty and were going to push while they knew the lunar railgun was waiting for an ammo shipment from good old Terra Firma. Not on our watch.
I zoomed my suit’s camera eyes in a bit more, looking for insignia under the Community of Nations emblem. Brazilians. So these guys were more likely to be fresh, but green too. They were probably more shaken up than we were. Their formation was sloppy, and from what his sensors told him, the Pantera MBT had its systems frazzled from the Brazilian’s own EMP blasts.
The guy with the HyVeloc launcher was supposed to make the first call. He was probably waiting to get the tank so it’d roadblock the rest of the column. The huge jungle-painted beast stopped just before an intersection as the Brazilian soldiers fanned out to check the area. None of them seemed to notice the PAC soldiers in the buildings overlooking the plaza.
It was very surreal to watch them search, though. They had semi-adaptive camo that, no matter how much you saw it, was too alien in its chameleon-like patterns. Wading among the remains of what had once been a vibrant plaza, their equipment-laden jog contrasted with my mental image of what this had once been, a place to relax and stroll, not too much different from any other suburban community in the developed world.
The bang-shriek of the HyVeloc launcher slammed me back into the present. The nanotech-refined ceramic coated DU slug moved too fast to register with the human eye, all I saw was molten metal and smoke erupting from the vehicle as the Brazilian crew struggled to get out.
I didn’t have time to watch the gruesome spectacle. A chorus of gunfire marked the true beginning of the ambush, and I joined in. My coil-rifle spat a precise burst of three rounds at 2000 RPM and the nano-enhancement on my CNS kept it steady. After a few more bursts, I ran through the derelict flat to find a new position. The blast of a thermobaric grenade from my old perch told me I’d made the right decision.
The radio calls were getting more frantic as iron cloudbursts filled the sky. Artillery. I think it was ours because if the ‘smart shells’ are really as intelligent s they say, there were too many Brazilians writhing in the streets for the barrage to be theirs.
I squeezed off a few more shots and was rewarded with a heavy machine gun tearing through the apartment like tissue paper. Time to move again.
This time I didn’t outrun the thermobaric. As I cleared the door to the hall, the blast on the floor below me sucked the oxygen out of the room (thank LockMart for the M606’s NBC capability) and sent me tumbling through the hole it’d created. Drywall and various other construction material showered down through the gap, and after a brief moment I got up and started looking for a way out. Too many Brazilians out on the streets; the backyard was not looking any better.
There were tunnels through these towns when we’d been clearing the Community out the first time, in case we’d decided to nuke the place and people needed to stay underground. They were good enough for roving guerillas too. I ran through down to the stairwell and listened for a bit. The radio chatter wasn’t sounding good. Most of my company was nonfunc or dead. Kicking open the basement door, I saw that I wouldn’t need any tunnels: there was a reinforced hatch and an old service elevator.
I almost didn’t notice the thermobaric that clattered just a few yards away.
****.
Six hours until Reload
I don’t know what woke me. Maybe the click-click-click of the Geiger counter, because there was nothing else to hear.
I rolled over and groaned. But the pain was distant. The suit’s medical system had pumped me full of painkillers and nanites to keep me going. I checked the clock… I’d been out for more than a day. Thank god thermobarics were pressure weapons and not armor-crackers, or I’d be a dead man by now.
But why was that damn Geiger counter going off? I checked the levels on my retinal projection… Low. Very low. Good basement this was, and good armor I was wearing. Then again, neutron bombs these days were designed to be short effect weapons so you could march in earlier and retake the territory. I got up, sat around for an hour while I reorganized myself. I scanned the frequencies, static and the occasional high-power transmission from miles away. Then I amped up the acoustic sensor. Nothing human moving in the immediate area. Exhaling sharply into my respirator, I crawled out of the wreckage of the apartment building and surveyed the streets. Everything was dead. The bodies from the previous day littered the ground, and around them were the carcasses of the scavengers caught in the blast. A Pantera hull smoldered quietly, the ghostlike wisps were the only things moving among the gray, battered cityscape.
The blasts couldn’t have been direct though. I looked towards Santa Elena de Uarien. That was where it was focused around, near the main highways. If there were any survivors… Well, PAC survivors anyway.
I scanned freqs again. No point in drawing more attention to myself than necessary by transmitting. Protocol meant nobody was going to answer.
I checked my rifle to make sure the thing still worked, and then set about gathering ammunition and any equipment I’d missed in the firefight. No point in grabbing extra food, it might be contaminated. I did grab the other guys’ tablets of purification chemicals and medical supplies.
The GPS satellite feed was working, which was good. At least I could know where I was going. I needed something more concrete though.
Climbing carefully back up one of the apartments in the ruined block, I looked towards the main city. Smoke streamed out, and in the afternoon dusk, no electric lights showed. Not even the occasional explosion or a squirt of tracers.
I’d never felt more alone in my life. My goal was to be anywhere closer to Santa Elena but here by sometime tonight. I don’t aim high. No point when the Community lobs nukes whenever the Pan American Combine gets too deep into their turf for comfort.
Amazingly, the audio files I’d put on the ‘personal allocation’ of the suit mainframe drive were still working. Well, maybe not amazingly. The computer was made so that it’d only be taken out if I was.
So I walked through a dead city listening to ‘40s Electric Western, all drums and buzzing, reverb-packed guitar. If it was a movie, my musical choice was probably horrible in taste.
After two hours of walking, my suit alerted me to something. I cut the music and ducked to cover in an alleyway, readying my rifle.
I poked it around the corner, zooming in on the figure. Definitely Community manufacture PA, the exact country, I dunno. But the way he walked, he looked alone. And it didn’t look like he knew I was there. Probably just another poor ******* trying to get to friendly territory. He’d been going the opposite direction of me, away from the PAC advance. And there was probably a Brazilian counter-attack on the way that would scoop him up.
He was wounded too, scavenging through the cars pushed to the sides of the street for something, maybe shelter or supplies. He was obviously desperate, and from the look of his tired figure, he didn't have too much. I don’t know why, but I switched on the suit’s amplifier and yelled “Hola!” He swung around, jittery but with a quick draw, whipping his rifle around. He paused for a second, yelling what I think was “Who is it?” or the like in Portuguese or Spanish. I honestly didn’t take time to translate.
Bad choice. As impulsively as I’d called for the man, I’d shot him. Four rounds enveloped him in a cloud of dust and dark mist in the middle of the street, some part of him or his equipment clattering against an abandoned car.
His words and my gunshots rolled through the dead city, echoed, and faded away. Creeping over carefully, I snatched up his dried MRE packets and kept going. Didn’t see any need to do otherwise. You just walked away. Eventually the blood would dry and cake with dust, and he’d just be one more byproduct of human conflict left to waste in the grand chaos of war. I’d killed plenty like him. Just because it was just us two didn’t make it any different, I supposed.
And I had to get moving. I was already imagining I could feel the hum and vibration of Brazilian and Argentine divisions rolling up to meet my weakened allies. Maybe I was going nuts, but if you'd been around on the Darien Gap and the Andean campaign as long as I had, you'd know when the CoN likes to attack.
The sky was started to clear up a bit but it was dulled by the near permanent veil of smoke that spewed from the urban battlefield. Gradually as the night war on, sound returned. Hypersonic aircraft racing to meet the oncoming forces and missiles from both sides raced far above my head. I started walking a little faster. They were just the opening salvos against a Community counter-attack that couldn’t be any more than half a day away now.
Constantinople
Banned
Yaaay! A semi update! Information about africa in general is always welcome.
So, what about this springtime of nations thing you mentioned?
Im always happy to see European states jumpstarted again, with their shiney new infastructure.
So, what about this springtime of nations thing you mentioned?
Im always happy to see European states jumpstarted again, with their shiney new infastructure.
Constantinople
Banned
Stupid edit time limiter....
Does Australia still maintain connections to the ANG/PAC? Or is it all the way in the Seato camp?
Will Europe begin to take an important role again in the future?
(What did its population end up being pre-war, you said that the population crash was not nearly as bad as projected, and that there was a native 'baby boom'. What percentage is muslim?)
Hope you come back soon.
Does Australia still maintain connections to the ANG/PAC? Or is it all the way in the Seato camp?
Will Europe begin to take an important role again in the future?
(What did its population end up being pre-war, you said that the population crash was not nearly as bad as projected, and that there was a native 'baby boom'. What percentage is muslim?)
Hope you come back soon.
Yeah... That update is getting sort of delayed due to college applications and my new super-secret AH/FH timeline. As a hint though, some interesting things are going to happen in the US domestically... While the rest of the world is reviving, the US will be dealing with transitioning away from its wartime system of government.
What's likely going to happen to space is that Asia and the Americas will basically have a new space race, both are gearing up but are waiting until they have to devote less of their budget to other tasks. There will be a large private presence in space as well.
Germany is basically a ward of foreign nations. Lots of Asian money floating around, and some fear that SEATO will rope them into a proposed bloc of SEATO dependent nations.
The population of Earth at this point is probably hovering a bit over 8 billion. Big birthrate slowdowns in the developed world + massive war... Whose direct deathtoll (post-war deaths due to lack of infrastructure) is probably at least 500 million altogether.
Economically Australia is heavily in the SEATO camp, but it still maintains lots of trade links with the PAC and English speaking nations. The Asian population in Australia is much higher, but there are fears that a cold war of sorts could end up brewing between PAC and SEATO, which Australia desperately wants to avoid.
Yes, the nations at the fringes first and moving inward, as Central Europe was the most devastated. Poland and Germany especially are held together by foreign aid.
Prewar population was probably a little over 9 billion. Europe had a baby boom, yes, and the Muslim population prewar is probably similar to what it is today prewar (maybe even lower, due to the USE's antagonism with the Middle East), but probably several times higher in Southern Europe postwar and virtually nonexistent in central Europe.
a few questions.
Just caught up with the thread. I hope you update more. I have a few questions.
1. How close is the US or PaC toward having formal terrirtories or states made out of areas of the moon? Are any of the space stations large enough to be considered territories or are they all just run by the military?
2. About the AI. Are they all just in supercomputers that are kept stationary, or are there any android like AI in existence yet?
3. How many states are there in the US in 2090?
4. When did NATO fall apart? And is there a US/British pact or treaty? I'm trying to understand why it seemed that the US had been letting the British be hung out to dry in WWIV. I'd think that in just 70 years the US wouldn't be letting SEATO bully Britain around like that postwar.
5. When do we make First Contact?
Just caught up with the thread. I hope you update more. I have a few questions.
1. How close is the US or PaC toward having formal terrirtories or states made out of areas of the moon? Are any of the space stations large enough to be considered territories or are they all just run by the military?
2. About the AI. Are they all just in supercomputers that are kept stationary, or are there any android like AI in existence yet?
3. How many states are there in the US in 2090?
4. When did NATO fall apart? And is there a US/British pact or treaty? I'm trying to understand why it seemed that the US had been letting the British be hung out to dry in WWIV. I'd think that in just 70 years the US wouldn't be letting SEATO bully Britain around like that postwar.
5. When do we make First Contact?
So much sci fi has united earths in the future, that I think it would be interesting to see a non-united earth exploring and colonizing space and dealing with alien cultures.
I'd imagine in the timeline of this thread, whoever makes first contact first, has a huge advantage vs the other factions. Assuming the aliens would want to establish new trade routes and treaties instead of just conquest of the earth.
I'd imagine in the timeline of this thread, whoever makes first contact first, has a huge advantage vs the other factions. Assuming the aliens would want to establish new trade routes and treaties instead of just conquest of the earth.