MY SUBMISSION FOR THE FANLORE CONTEST: "Meet the O-Team"

November 30th, 1935
"Highway A44", Ouroboros, Eastern Antares

It's been days since they've marched out. So far, the uprising has been successful, and the Ouroboreans controlled seven areas in their oppressed homeland. Six if you count the one island that the Orionites helped them liberate. But still, the war wasn't over just yet. There is much to be done. For the men of "Gruppa Lewandowski", the "much to be done" part gives them an incentive to keep marching, in hopes of one day liberating their homeland. Most of the 50 men and some women in the Gruppa experienced the brutality of the Antareans during the November Revolts in 1929, when the Ouroboreans finally decided to do something. Sure, most were young and partially inexperienced, but they were hardy, patriotic, and loyal to the cause. In this case, those're the only things that truly matter.

At the beginning of November, Ouroborean forces managed to liberate a substantial amount of land, including the Northwest end of Highway A44, the road that the troops were marching down now. Thanks to Orionite support, they had provisions and food for the next three weeks, just enough for the trip to their objective and back. In addition to this, they were carrying six oblong crates, each one containing a powerful explosive charge meant to penetrate armored objects. At the head of the group, the commanding officer, Felix "Franek" Lewandowski, was contemplating the horizon with a curious gaze. The countryside of Ouroboros seemed beautiful, almost ethereal in this time of year. The rolling green hills, farms and various hills rising in the distance. Yet, it was the only peaceful area of the nation, untouched by war, as if it was another planet entirely.

Before joining the cause, he was in the Antarean Army. They've been conscripting a lot of Ouroboreans to do combat duties that were much more dangerous than the ones done by the Antareans themselves. Flametroopers, scouts, etc. The one with the most casualties compared to the others, though, were assault medics. They were medics that were sent into charges with the army to perform quick medical tasks while under fire. 76% casualty rate, and Felix was lucky enough to survive as one, albeit with a fusillade of scars and burns from suicidal charges, which at first were forced, and later on he went willingly, as he had no other choice, and his men needed a morale booster in any way.

Enough of wallowing in the past, though, as they were drawing near to their objective. For months the Home Army had planned this operation, and for months they had practiced with dummy charges in Orion. The first idea had been to take a human torpedo with detachable charges and sail away, but they'd have been noticed on the approach, since those need to be carried by a mothership. The second one, which they were doing right now, was to take six charges in partially floating cases in order to not sink to the bottom, and attach two to Ramyana Gora's dry dock doors, the only ones capable of repairing and maintaining the leviathan AIS Tau. The second part of their objective would be to mount one charge to the AIS Kormoran, one to the AIS Kurassier, one to AIS Tamerlan, and one to AIS Seligman. Two battleships, one battlecruiser, and one contre-torpilleur, a new destroyer class that the Antareans kept like a prize dog, not letting it go on long range patrols, for which the class was meant.

Two days later, they arrived on the coast under cover of darkness. After climbing a hill and arriving at a promontory overlooking the base, they began preparations. First, the explosive charges were put into fiberglass containers with two ropes for dragging them through water. While the men and women worked to place the charges for travel, preparing their equipment, and praying before the mission, Felix and his adjutant, Sergeant Major Koulikov, were scanning the coast and the naval base for the mission ahead. After his line of sight passed over the Kurassier, the last ship in the row, he suddenly spotted the silhouette of another ship right next to it. It was smaller, but much wider, compared to the battleship it was tied next to. He put the binoculars down, a confused frown on his face. It was odd, as the double agent working for them said that new ships weren't due to put in for the next month and a half.

Reaching for his pack, opened a notebook, and flipped through it, until finally he found what he was looking for. It was a Mogador-class "depot ship", a vessel that was laden with fuel, provisions for ships like food, water, and medical supplies. To add to the already numerous stocks of non-combatant cargo, it was also laden with explosives, munitions, and torpedoes. In a sense, it was a massive floating powder keg. The problem with these though, was that they were a relatively new class, and only two were made so far, with one still in a dry dock on the West Coast, the AIS Neptun, and its sister ship, the AIS Volta was here in port. Upon closer examination of the waterline, it became evident that the ship was heavy with cargo.

Turning to his adjutant, he pointed out the ship. "See that one right there? It's a depot ship. If we blow up the Kurassier successfully, the fumes from the fuel line attached to it will rip it apart." Koulikov processed this information, and his face grew into a devious grin. "So two birds with one stone?" Felix nodded, while pulling the straps on his frogman gear tighter. "Yes. They won't have the ability to replenish ships at sea anymore, at least on this coast." Ten minutes later, they were all ready. Stepping forward, he stopped in front of Sergeant Kociniak, handing her a picture. "This is your objective, the AIS Seligman. Study it well, because you won't be allowed to resurface to identify it from the outside. Identify it by it's hull." He walked down the line, and again, gave a picture of the AIS Kormoran to Sergeant Foch. "Your objective is well-armored, so place the charge near it's munitions stowage. Same as before, do not surface unless it's an emergency and your life is in danger."

For himself, he kept a picture of the AIS Kurassier, and to Koulikov, he gave the picture of the Tamerlan. With that, he turned to everyone else, and rendered a two-finger salute. "My fellow partisans, I commend you. Most men and women wouldn't dare to come on this mission. You were chosen because you have guts, you are patriotic, and you've got the strongest spirit of resistance that I've ever seen. Our mission is to blow up four ships and a drydock. Some of you will be attaching the charges, some wont, and some of you will be assisting with securing two E-Boats for escape. Some of us may not come back from this mission, but that's a chance you and I are willing to take. Ouroboros jeszcze nie zginął, niech żyje Ouroboros!"

After the speech, the partisans descended the promontory and into the water. The groups assigned to attaching the charges splashed down, and pulled the charge containers along, submerging and activating the Scuba gear on their back, taking deep breaths through the "Gagnan device" attached to the canisters by a long tube. A few minutes after crossing into the perimeter of the base, they split off towards their respective targets. The particular choice of attacking today was partly due to today being a national holiday in Antares, and some of the base personnel would either be in the mess hall, or out and about in the town nearby. This made it easy, as they would take minimal casualties, while inflicting heavy damage and substanial destruction of materiel themselves.

As Felix swam along with the charge strapped to his back, the tube suddenly seized up. Silently cursing to himself, he knew that he had to take the risk of surfacing to clear it, or else he would suffocate and the Kurassier and the ship next to it would remain untouched. He was near a ship, the moonlight shining down into the water. Taking a moment to pray, he surfaced, and quietly spat the breathing device out. He slowly put the goggles up, and started to clear the tube. Suddenly, he heard a quiet and surprised gasp. Looking up slowly, he saw the source of the sound. It was an Antarean sailor, a woman, with the shoulder chevrons designating her as a Leutnant (Lieutenant). Her green eyes widened, realizing that he was a potential threat. Slowly, to appear casual, he raised a hand in greeting, and in perfect Antarean, said "Guten Abend, Leutnant." Then, with a flurry of motion, the Lieutenant disappeared. By then, he cleared the tube, and put it back in his mouth, put the goggles back on, and went under again, swimming to his target.

Meanwhile, aboard the AIS Royalle, a Rochelle-class cruiser

The night has been long and the 12 hours of no sleep was starting to get to Maya. After recently being promoted from Unterleutnant to Leutnant, her schedule was full of a fusillade of paperwork, picking up a new uniform since rank insignias are now sewn on, and doing various administrative tasks. For now, she was taking a much-needed break, her chin propped up on her hand as she stared out into the darkness from the deck of the Royalle. She was just starting to doze off, when she heard a splash. It was not in front of her, but below her, so she looked over the railing, and spotted a man fiddling with a breathing tube, wearing what looked to resemble a wetsuit and scuba gear. She gasped, and he stopped. He looked up, frozen for a moment, and with a smile he raised a hand, waved, and in her native language, responded with "Guten Abend, Leutnant."

She had to tell someone. So, after rushing away from the deck, she ran to the bridge, and turned a corner, opening the door to Arden's stateroom. He was busy, working on something so interesting that he didn't see her enter. "Arden, there's a man in the water. He looked up at me and said hello. He looks like he means trouble, though. Should we raise an alarm?" Arden stopped, looked up at her with raised eyebrows, and sighed. "Look, Maya, you've been awake for what, more than 12 hours? The fatigue is playing tricks on you. No one's crazy enough to sabotage our ships in the middle of the night in a heavily defended harbor, let alone dive deep into freezing water. It's nearly December, for crying out loud." Looking back down towards his work, then he looked back up, sighing again. "Alright, fine. I'll go look."

He followed Maya out and leaned over the edge. His eyes scanned the water and spotted nothing out of the ordinary. The surface was still, almost smooth, if not for the strong wind coming in from the North. "See? There's nothing to worry about. You're just imagining things." Maya stammered, trying to piece together what just happened. "B-but, I-I... he was just there!" Arden chuckled, and turned around, his steps receding as he walked away. "I'll make some coffee, if you intend to stay awake." Maya nodded, and turned around, looking out into the harbor. She sat down at a bench next to the railing, and kept watch, almost as if she was glued to the bench.

Meanwhile...
35 feet below the water

So far, Felix had made good progress. The charge was comfortably bumping against his leg as he neared the Kurassier. He swam alongside it, almost touching the hull. Then, the work began. Reaching down to extract the charge from the case, he made sure the case itself was flooded so it would sink instead of floating. Grabbing the oblong charge with both hands, he placed it onto the hull, right above the area where the munitions storage would be. He then reached into his pocket, and pulled out two timed detonation "blasting caps". If the timing was correct, he had 12 minutes to get the hell out of there and to the rendezvous point with the other partisans. One cap, two caps, three caps, and it was set. Giving it a gentle pat for his own luck, he swam away, the red flashing light pulsating in his line of sight, but out of view of the men and women on board the ships.

About seven minutes later, he surfaced on the other side of the harbor. He shook the water off, spat the tube out, and flipped off the flipper attachments to his boots. All that was left was his boots, the wetsuit, and an OSM-33(S) submachine gun on a strap wrapped around the front of his body. He unwrapped it, and reached for a pouch on his utility belt, taking out the long suppressor, and screwing it onto the barrel's end. Next, he unfolded the wire stock, and popped in a fresh magazine of 7.62x25, cocking the charging handle back, and kicking the diving gear into the water to dispose of the evidence. He then got out of cover, and walked in a combat stance towards the administrative building.

Off to his left, he saw movement. Taking a short breath, he turned, and whisper-yelled into the darkness. "Halt! Identify yourself." The movement stopped, and out of the darkness, a voice answered "It's Sergeant Slivko, Corporal Whitmann, Private Rochefort, and Private Muratov." He sighed a breath of relief, and the four men appeared, their OSMs also raised. "Where are the rest?" He asked, slowly nearing the building, not taking a moment to look towards the others for a response. "They're near the E-Boat docks, sir. We're making good progress so far." Felix nodded, satisfied that everything was going according to plan so far. "If the timing is correct, we have about three more minutes before the charges blow five ships and a dry dock to kingdom come. So, I suggest we finish up with the scum in this building. Check the main office, there's E-Boat keys. We need two. They'll probably have numbered tags on them."

The men nodded, and as they were making their way over, he caught the elbow of Corporal Whitmann, motioning with his fingers towards a room that had it's lights on. In there, voices that were slurred by alcohol-induced delirium. He slowly inched towards the door, nudging it open with the tip of his OSM's barrel. An officer was busy telling a joke to his subordinates, their roaring laughter drowning out the two men that were now standing in the room. "...And so I said, 'That is not my wife, that is my dog!' and he immediately froze up!" The laughter continued, and when the laughter died down, they froze and turned, because the uproar continued in the form of Felix's mocking laughter. "HAHAHAHA...ha, ha." His face suddenly turned serious. "Very funny." He squeezed the trigger, round after round peppering the Antareans, and after that was out of the way, he kicked the Antarean officer's body over, and retrieved his pistol, and his sword. On his way out, one of the Antareans was struggling to get up, so without looking, he popped the man twice, the suppressor's nearly silent report seemingly unheard, which was good for them.

Out in the hall, he met the others, and looking down at his watch, he smiled. Thirty seconds. "Gentlemen, I promised a celebration for the anniversary of this unit, and I deliver. I present to you, the Ouroborean Orchestra!" As he kicked the door open, one of two things happened. First, the gates on the drydock were demolished, the heat melting the opening mechanism in the locked position, and in the process completely demolishing the gate itself. Soon after, the Kormoran went up in flames. Next, the Tamerlan and the Seligman blew up, the magnificent fireball and the shockwave forced the Tamerlan to roll over, while the Seligman broke up into two pieces. And finally, the main course. The Kurassier was rocked with a series of three explosions that started from the bow, until the fumes from the Volta's fuel line attached to the bigger ship were ignited. The flames traveled down the tube and into the fuel storage. They ignited the rest of the fuel, and the explosion rocked the ship, taking out the munitions and gunpowder storage with a massive shockwave that the men felt from here, and the windows broke. Whoops of laughter, joy, and sheer elation that they have succeeded erupted from the men watching. The flames from the destroyed ships burned brighter, and so did the flames of the spirit of the nation's strive for independence, like a phoenix rising above the ashes, ready to wreak havoc like never before.

After descending the small ridgeline on which the administrative building sat, he and the men walked to the docks, the keys to E-Boats numbered "38" and "44" dangling from Felix's finger. After confirming that the men at the dock were indeed Ouroborean, he motioned for them to follow, stepping over the dead bodies that littered the docks. Up above, he heard a trench whistle, the sound of which he came to both loathe and enjoy at the same time. He spotted Antareans descending the hill, guns raised. So after boarding the E-Boats, they quickly started to move away, but not quick enough for their liking, as the Antareans were already beginning to reach the entrance to the dock. Felix took the initiative, grabbing the grip of a 13mm MG131 machine gun mounted on the rear. Pulling the charging handle back, he opened fire, the rounds practically chewing through the advancing Antareans, most of whom were trying to shoot back, only to be silenced by the gun.

Whomever was left, however, were retreating. Some dropped their guns, some were carrying their wounded comrades away, so he took his hands off of the machinegun, the E-Boats speeding up, eventually leaving the confines of the harbor, speeding away for Neumann Island, their only non-contiguous territory. As he sat at one of the benches at the stern of the boat, he couldn't help but smile. So many trials and error, so many casualties, more than six years of fighting, and here they were, finally showing the Antareans that there are consequences to their actions. He thought about the people who came and went, the ones who lived and who didn't. His brother, his mentor, amongst many other people. It calmed him, knowing that their sacrifices weren't in vain, and that they no longer will.

***END OF CHAPTER 1***