Summer nights and palm tree delights

[Jay]

The flickering light of a solitary oil lamp cast ghostly figures on the stone walls, its trembling light cast a shadow across the walls. Duchamp leaned against the cold, damp wall, her fingers drumming on the hilt of her sidearm. Her eyes flickered with exhaustion and frustration. The scent of damp earth and stale smoke clung to the air, mingling with the acrid tang of her unsmoked cigar.

Jean-Marie paced back and forth, his once-pristine uniform now stained and torn, mirroring his frayed composure. “We had them on the brink,” he said, his voice edged with frustration. “We could have turned the tide if only our forces had held.”

Jean-Louise, seated at a wooden table, looked up with weary eyes. “Our intelligence was compromised. They knew our every move. We underestimated their response and overestimated our own.”

Jean-Christophe, drumming his fingers on the table’s surface, interjected, “Overestimation? We were betrayed from within. The information leaks came from somewhere—perhaps even from within our own ranks.”

Kombouaré snapped back, “You speak of betrayal, but that was not our own failure, we should've hit them hard right after our first attack. That seven-hour cease-fire was stupid. To fight at night to our own disadvantage...to their advantage. To fight on the coastline? Where they had SHIPS!" He ended with a scream that echoed throughout the cave.

Duchamp’s gaze hardened. “And what would you have had us do? Sacrifice more lives on a failed gambit? Our losses are heavy, but accusing each other will not mend the wounds.”

Declerc, who had remained silent before finally spoke. “We face a graver threat that can not be diminished by this defeat. The Kanaks refuse to abandon their cause. Our struggle continues, even as the occupation tightens its grip."

Jean-Louise, leaning back as he added, “Many in Noumea are fearful of the fate that awaits them. They need hope, a sign that our sacrifice has meaning. We must be that beacon. We must create symbols if we are to survive.”

Jean-Marie’s eyes glared into the oil candles as he nodded. “If we are to be driven from our homeland, then we must make our enemies pay for their crimes. We need to bring the fight to them. We will water the ground with their blood—Poland...France. They can not escape the consequences of their actions.”

Duchamp’s expression softened as she considered the implications. “Our remaining strength lies in our ability to adapt. We can no longer afford to be divided by our internal conflicts."

Kombouaré’s gaze met Duchamp’s, his eyes blazing. “And what about you, Duchamp? What about your cozy arrangement with the French? It seems convenient how you’ve been shielded while the rest of us bled. Were you not making deals behind our backs? Did you not have a hand in securing a safe passage for yourself, while the rest of us are left to rot?”

Duchamp’s face flushed. “How dare you insinuate...”

Kombouaré cut her off, “How dare I? I’ve seen the signs, the way the Poles were well prepared and countered our moves."

Jean-Christophe interjected, “Let’s not forget the Kanaks. They stayed in their huts, barely lifting a finger while we were on the front lines. They left us exposed. We needed their support, and they failed us.”

Duchamp’s eyes flared. “The Kanaks stayed behind and let us rot. Your cell hid in caves. You little shit. Our timing was off, yes, but your performance was an abysmal display of strategic stupidity.”

Jean-Christophe shook his head, his tone more measured trying to bring everyone back. “We rushed the offensive. We should have waited until we had full support and better intel. The Kanaks’ reluctance is a symptom of our own hasty planning and our lack of trying.”

Kombouaré’s gaze turned to Jean-Christophe. “Rushed? We waited and planned. We didn't have a choice. The reality is that we acted with what we had."

Declerc added coldly. “The Kanaks’ hesitation is because you are fighting for a free France. Not a free Caledonia." An eerie silence took hold as the other bit their lips or looked.

Jean-Marie's face lit by the weak glow of an oil lamp as he looked around. “We need to raise the cost of occupation,” Jean-Marie began, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “Our fight cannot be won here, not with the resources we have left. We must make the price of our resistance so steep that our enemies will be forced to reconsider their position.”

Kombouaré leaned forward this time asking. “And how do you propose we do that? We’re outnumbered and outgunned. We’ve seen how quickly the enemy reinforced their positions.”

Jean-Marie’s gaze was steady. “When I was at the French military academy, I learned about the nature of colonial wars—lessons that are relevant now. France's defeat in Vietnam wasn’t solely due to military setbacks. It was a matter of capacity and political will.”

He paused. “France’s military was strong, yes, but they underestimated the resolve of the Vietnamese and overextended their resources. The political crisis back home, coupled with a lack of public support, forced France into negotiations. The same happened with Algeria. Despite their overwhelming military strength, the loss of political support at home made it impossible to sustain the war effort. France was drained by the conflict and the mounting costs.”

Jean-Louise asked “So, what are you suggesting? That we somehow influence the political landscape in Poland or disrupt their home front?”

Jean-Marie nodded. “Precisely. We need to shift the burden of this conflict onto Poland and its allies. To achieve victory, we must focus on disrupting their logistics, raising their costs, and undermining their political will. We need to create conditions where their leaders face mounting pressure to withdraw. Just as in Vietnam and Algeria, if we can break their resolve, we can force them into a position where negotiation becomes their only viable option.”

Jean-Christophe, eyes darkened by the weight of their situation, spoke up. “And how do you propose we achieve that with the limited resources we have?"

Jean-Marie’s responded, “We need to be strategic. Target their supply lines, hit their convoys, and make their occupation costly and visible. We should also focus on diplomatic channels, stirring unrest among their allies and fostering dissent. Look around you. You think the Australians will be happy if Thailand gets a permanent presence? What if we get the Russians to come in and keep the Americans at bay? We need to be smart. How do we weaken the occupation and make them start bickering? We must create the conditions for their withdrawal.”

Declerc nodded before offering his own views. “Raising the costs isn’t just about direct conflict. It’s about bringing the pain to them. We need to strike them in their homes."

Duchamp, scoffed as she retorted, “And what about the Kanaks and the local support? If we’re to do this we need their help...not just a promise that they'll care.”

Jean-Marie glanced at Duchamp, “We must create symbols. And we must make the enemy complacent in its response. We will win. For a free Caledonia. We can learn from history. We need to be relentless and unyielding. If we can make the occupation unsustainable for them, it might give us the leverage we need. However...for now the answer is clear. We need to hit them where it hurts. To that I entrust Duchamp to get us the breakthrough we need."

Among the sea of displaced faces, a small cadre of Kanak and French rebels moved grimmly hidden beneath the guise of weary wanderers.

In the smoldering ruins of Ouvéa, once a proud village, the echoes of violence still lingered. Polish soldiers had come like wolves, their fire consuming homes and fields alike. The Kanak people, driven from their ancestral lands, scattered like leaves before the storm. Among the survivors were those who sought not only to escape but to strike back from the shadows.

Iona was one such survivor. Her face, lined with grief and resolve. Polish forces had razed her house in the port, a house that her parents spend years saving for. The memory of her family’s screams ringed around her. Now, she was bound for target, a city where the whispers of her people’s plight would be echoed. She walked among the throngs of refugees. Beside her was Makou, a village man whose lands had been wrested away by marauding rebels.

Alongside Makou and Iona, Nina, Léo, Ariata, Kimi, Simo, Diri, Kave, Maka, Rai, Étienne, Juliette, Gaspard, Claire, Bertrand, François, Céline, and Laurent had all been given training to allow them to succeed in their mission. Backstories masked their origins while building upon their real-life experiences. They were trained to turn into shadows, skilled in the art of evasion and deception. Each member of their cell was a master of survival.

The journey began with a harrowing trek through unforgiving terrain for some, the rebels masked by the veneer of refugee misery. They mingled with the displaced. Their basic training in counter-intelligence had sharpened their eyes to things normally out of concern for them.

Upon reaching the alleged Thai positions with circling Polish helicopters Iona’s heart beat in her chest like a war drum as she prepared for the next phase of their mission. Thousands of French settlers, Kanaks, and other foreigners were amassing hoping for a chance of reprieve and escape. Children clung to their mothers, who prayed for a chance to make it out. The threat of a resistance attack was high as many were paranoid awaiting a chance onto the boats.

ManBear Bossza007

 

[Owen]

As Steve Irwin had been appointed as the Governor of Queensland in 2001 (part of Odinson's strategy to stop him dying in 2006), Terri Irwin, his American wife, would now be in charge of Australia Zoo. Steve Irwin would reside in Government House, Brisbane with Terri and his two kids Bindi and Robert. Terri would commute between Brisbane and the Sunshine Coast for work. He would welcome the Polish troops to a reception at Government House, a formal welcome to Queensland. The Queensland Police Service band would put on a show for them in the gardens. The Australian Army Band detachment for Brisbane, a part of 11th Brigade Reserves, would also perform.

Government House, Brisbane (commonly known as 'Fernberg') with the Brisbane CBD in the background​

In Fortitude Valley, the main entertainment district of Brisbane, there would be an increased police presence from the Queensland Police Service and Military Police from all three branches of the Australian Defence Forces. They would work with Polish Military Police to keep an eye on the visiting group of Polish forces. They were keen to avoid another "Battle of Brisbane" which was a riot between visting members of the United States Military (as the allied headquarters for South West Pacific were in Brisbane, including General MacArthur) and the Australian Military during World War II.

​

The Polish patients who were brought to Royal Brisbane and Women's Hospital and the Gold Coast University Hospital would receive treatment as outlined in Operation Morris Dance.

ManBear

 

[Bossza007]

Secret and secure unless contextually possible. | NSST 1.0 Architecture​

A Thai Endurance-class Landing Platform Dock (LPD) Sailing Through the Coral Sea​

For two and a half years, New Caledonia had been marked by hardship. What began with the controversial raising of a Thai flag now concluded, with dark irony, in the mass evacuation by Thai humanitarian forces. Many lives were lost under tragic and avoidable circumstances, with both sides accusing each other of cruelty. As the islands were blockaded by the navies of the United States and Thailand, the human cost was often overshadowed by the broader conflict.

In the grand scheme of the universe, where humanity wrestled with its place amid cosmic vastness and its own conflicts, a fleet of 21 large maritime vessels, 15 of them carrying 100 landing ships, from a secular nation approached Anse Vata Bay. The sun blazed hotly over the war-scarred city of Nouméa, its rays searing through the arid air. Beyond the South Pacific's endless horizon, thirty tactical transport helicopters flew in tight formation at a low altitude. Their engines and propellers created a deafening roar. Following the helicopters was the impressive Republic Auxiliary Fleet, a naval force so numerous it outstripped any carrier strike group from other navies.

“The Republic Navy has arrived at Anse Vata Beach,” crackled through the public radio channels, both in English and French, from an Endurance-class LPD. As the maritime fleet neared the shore, its pace slowed. Helicopters soared above Nouméa, their thunderous noise a stark reminder to the city’s residents of the urgency to evacuate. “Citizens of Nouméa, the Republic Navy will evacuate 8,500 displaced individuals today. We will complete this operation in five stages, eventually evacuating a total of 42,500 people. Please assemble at Anse Vata Beach,” the message echoed from numerous helicopters, their broadcasts cutting through every household and building with clear, insistent radio waves.

As the Thai naval fleet neared Anse Vata Beach, the scale of the task became clear. Evacuating 8,500 people in a single day was a logistical challenge like no other, especially in a city torn apart by conflict and uncertainty. The beach, once a scenic tourist spot, now resembled a makeshift refugee camp, and temporary shelters stretched across the sand. Long lines of people waited to be processed, their faces marked by worry and exhaustion. Thai military personnel, easily recognizable in their uniforms, moved efficiently among the crowd, directing people and maintaining order.

As the imposing silhouettes of the Endurance-class LPDs emerged on the horizon, a noticeable shift in energy swept through the crowds on Anse Vata Beach. The hum of engines grew louder, mingling with the rhythmic chop of helicopter blades overhead. On the beach, a meticulously planned processing system, crafted in Bangkok's war rooms, activated with military precision. Captain Pakpoom Pongpasatith, a seasoned veteran of humanitarian missions, surveyed the scene from a hastily built platform. His weathered face, marked by years of experience, remained stern as he issued orders into his headset. “Station Alpha, begin processing. Beta and Gamma, stand by.”

At his command, Thai officials in crisp blue uniforms began their work, their attire a stark contrast to the dusty, disheveled crowd. Local volunteers, identifiable by yellow armbands, assisted as interpreters and guides. The first group of evacuees approached the processing tables. An elderly woman, her wrinkled hands clutching a tattered photo album, shuffled forward. Lieutenant Nattawadee Siripachasab, a young Thai officer, greeted her with a practiced smile. “Bonjour, Madame. Votre nom, s'il vous plaît?” ("Hello, Madam. Your name, please?") The woman blinked, confused by the accented French. A local volunteer, Pierre, stepped in. “Elle demande votre nom, Madame Leroy,” (She asks your name, Mrs. Leroy) he explained gently. The old woman nodded, her eyes filling with tears of relief and sorrow.

Lieutenant Nattawadee efficiently entered Madame Leroy's details into a tablet. With a soft beep, the device assigned her a unique identifier: NC-EVA-00001. "She’s assigned to LPD Angthong, Section C," Nattawadee relayed to Pierre, who passed the information to Madame Leroy. The operation's complexity became clear as each evacuee was not only assigned a number but also assessed for medical needs, family connections, and specific requirements. Dr. Yossathorn Sanwong, head of the medical triage team, moved swiftly between stations. His trained eye noticed a man trying to conceal a persistent cough. “Monsieur, s'il vous plaît, venez avec moi,” (Sir, please come with me) he said, gesturing towards a makeshift medical tent.

The system, though efficient, faced its challenges. Lieutenant Commander Plathorn Phumphattanatham frowned as he watched a heated argument at one of the processing stations. A group of young men, faces marked by desperation, were arguing loudly with a Thai official. "What’s the problem here?" Plathorn asked, approaching them. Pierre quickly explained, "They say their elderly parents are still in the city. They want to go back for them but fear losing their place in line." Plathorn weighed the risks and protocols before making a decision. "Tell them we’ll send a team to their location. But they need to stay here." As Pierre translated, the tension in the young men’s faces eased visibly.

As the day wore on, the beach transformed into a tapestry of human emotion. Children clutched stuffed animals, their eyes wide with confusion. Couples held each other, their expressions a mix of relief and uncertainty. Elderly individuals rested on makeshift benches, their lives condensed into single suitcases. Thai peacekeepers, their training evident in their vigilant postures, observed the crowds closely. Corporal Sakchai Boonma noticed a disturbance at the back of one line. A man, his face twisted in panic, was trying to push past others. "Je dois partir maintenant! Maintenant!" (I have to go now! Now!) he shouted. Sakchai moved quickly, raising a calming hand. "Monsieur, s'il vous plaît, calmez-vous," (Sir, please calm down.) he said, his French hesitant but understandable. The man, seeing the soldier's firm yet compassionate demeanor, gradually lowered his arms, his panic shifting to quiet sobs.

As the sun climbed higher, casting harsh shadows across the beach, Captain Pakpoom received an update through his earpiece. "Sir, we've processed 2,000 evacuees. The first transport was ready to board." Pakpoom nodded, allowing himself a brief smile. They were on schedule, but this was only the beginning. Watching the first group of evacuees headed towards the waiting ships, he understood that the real challenges lay ahead. The processing was more than a logistical exercise; it was the start of a journey that would reshape lives and potentially alter the region’s geopolitical landscape. The rhythmic beeps of processing devices, the constant murmur of multiple languages, and the distant roar of ship engines created a chaotic symphony—a soundtrack to a day that would be etched in the memories of all present, from the evacuees to the Thai personnel managing this monumental task.

---

Under the scorching midday sun, the first group of evacuees, processed and ready, made their way to the waiting ships. The scale of the Thai naval operation was unmistakable. The Endurance-class Landing Platform Docks (LPDs) towered over the shoreline, their gray hulls stark against the azure South Pacific. Commander Nattapong Suwan stood at the base of HTMS Angthong's loading ramp, his eyes scanning the approaching crowd. With a decisive nod to his team, he ordered, "Lower the ramps. Begin boarding procedures."

The massive ramps of the LPDs descended with a hydraulic hiss, landing softly on the sand. These steel bridges, typically used for tanks and armored vehicles, now served as vital routes for civilians fleeing their conflict-ridden homes. "Group A-1, please proceed to HTMS Angthong," a Thai officer announced through a megaphone. Fifty individuals, a diverse mix of ages and backgrounds, moved forward with cautious steps. At the foot of the ramp, Petty Officer Sompong Charoenkul greeted them with a reassuring smile. "Bienvenue à bord," Sompong said, his French clear and practiced. "Welcome aboard. Please watch your step."

As each evacuee stepped from the sand onto the steel of the ship, they were met with a basic supply kit handed out by Thai sailors. Lieutenant Piyada Saengchan supervised the distribution, ensuring everyone received essentials: bottled water, high-energy biscuits, a hygiene kit, and a thermal blanket. "Remember," Piyada told her team, "a smile and a kind word can mean as much as these supplies. We’re not just saving lives; we’re preserving dignity."

Inside Angthong’s vast hold, the transformation was striking. The space, once reserved for military vehicles, had been quickly repurposed into a makeshift passenger area. Rows of seats, salvaged from decommissioned ferries, lined the deck. Portable partitions offered some semblance of privacy. In one corner, a medical station was being set up, staffed by Thai Navy medics and volunteer doctors from Nouméa.

As the boarding continued, personal stories of hope, despair, and resilience emerged, each adding to the intricate tapestry of this humanitarian crisis. Marie Tokaoui, an elderly Kanak woman whose deep-set eyes had seen decades of New Caledonian history, shuffled slowly up the ramp. In her gnarled hands, she held a small woven bag—her only remaining possession. At the top of the ramp, she paused and took one last look at the shoreline. “Madame?” Petty Officer Ratree Sae-Lao approached her gently. “Are you alright?”

Marie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “C'est ma maison,” she whispered. “My home. For 78 years, I've never left this island.” Ratree, though she didn’t understand the words, recognized the universal language of loss. Gently placing a hand on Marie’s shoulder, she guided her into the ship. “It’s okay to cry,” Ratree said softly in Thai, hoping the sentiment would transcend the language barrier.

A few meters behind, a young French couple, Amélie and Jean-Pierre Dupont, inched forward with a tiny bundle between them—their newborn son, Théo. Just three weeks old, Théo had been born in a makeshift clinic amidst the chaos of explosions. He embodied both the fragility and resilience of life in conflict zones. Jean-Pierre’s face was a mask of protective resolve, while Amélie’s eyes darted nervously at the imposing military vessel. As they neared the ramp, Théo began to wail, his cries piercing the ambient noise of the evacuation.

Chief Petty Officer Somchai Wongsuwan, a father of three himself, immediately recognized the sound of a distressed infant. He approached the couple swiftly. “Your baby, he is hungry, yes?” Somchai asked in broken French. Amélie nodded, worry etched on her face. Somchai turned to his colleague. “Prepare a quiet space in the medical bay for nursing mothers,” he ordered in Thai. Turning back to the Duponts, he offered a reassuring smile. “Come, we have a place for you and your little one.”

As the day wore on, stories of resilience and humanity emerged. A group of university students, their education interrupted by war, boarded with boxes of books and laptops, determined to continue their studies despite the chaos. An elderly French couple, long-time residents of New Caledonia, assisted a young Kanak family with their luggage, a small act of kindness that bridged historical divides. Thai sailors, trained for combat and naval operations, adapted to new roles. Petty Officer Chalerm Srisai, normally focused on weapon systems, now cradled a sleeping toddler, giving her exhausted mother a much-needed break. In the medical bay, Lieutenant Niran Chulainn, a naval doctor, carefully treated an elderly man for heat exhaustion, blending military efficiency with genuine compassion.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the beach, Captain Pakpoom received an update. "Sir, we've boarded 8,000 evacuees. The final group is approaching." Pakpoom nodded, allowing himself a brief moment of satisfaction. But as he observed the last group making their way up the ramp, the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders. These were not mere numbers in a logistical exercise; they were lives, histories, and futures now entrusted to the Thai Navy.

As the massive ramps began to rise, sealing the ships for departure, a collective murmur emerged from within—a mix of relief, anxiety, and the dawning realization that for many, this voyage marked the end of one chapter and the uncertain beginning of another. The Endurance-class LPDs, now filled with the displaced population of Nouméa, prepared to set sail. As the engines roared to life, vibrating through the steel decks, thousands of eyes turned toward the receding shoreline of New Caledonia—some for what might be the last time.

---

As the relentless South Pacific sun dipped toward the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the last of the 8,500 evacuees climbed the ramp of HTMS Rattanakosin. Petty Officer Theraphat Nakorn, his uniform soaked with sweat and salt spray, watched as the final hatch clanged shut. He keyed his radio. "Command, this is Rattanakosin. Final evacuee secured. We are at full capacity." On the bridge of the flagship HTMS Angthong, Rear Admiral Surapong Chainuwat nodded grimly. "Acknowledged, Rattanakosin. All ships, prepare for departure." The engines roared to life, a deep, mechanical rumble that echoed across Anse Vata Beach. Slowly, the massive Endurance-class LPDs began to pull away from the shore. The sound of churned water mingled with the distant murmur of thousands of voices, creating a haunting symphony of departure.

On the decks and through every available viewport, evacuees watched as their homeland gradually faded from view. Amélie Dupont, the young mother from earlier, stood at the railing, holding her newborn son, Théo. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "Goodbye, Nouméa. Goodbye, my dear." Next to her, Marie Tokaoui, the elderly Kanak woman, clutched her small bag of belongings tightly. Her face, etched with age and hardship, showed a mix of relief, anxiety, and profound sorrow. She murmured a soft farewell in her native language, a final tribute to the land she was leaving behind.

In the ship's makeshift medical bay, Dr. Chai Wattana moved through the crowded space, attending to the most vulnerable evacuees. He stopped beside Monsieur Lefèvre, an elderly man weakened by heat exhaustion. "How are you feeling, sir?" Dr. Chai asked softly. Lefèvre's eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where... where are we going?" he whispered. Dr. Chai gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "To safety, sir. We're heading toward a new beginning in New Zealand."

On the bridge of HTMS Angthong, Rear Admiral Chainuwat surveyed the diminishing coastline of New Caledonia through his binoculars. Captain Pakpoom approached with a status update. “Sir, all ships are ready for open water. We’re set to rendezvous with the carrier group.” Chainuwat nodded, his expression reflecting the weight of his responsibility. “Understood, Captain. Signal the fleet. Let’s proceed.” As the Thai fleet ventured into deeper waters, the last rays of sunlight gleamed off the ships' hulls, casting them as shining silhouettes against the darkening sky. On the shore, the residents of Nouméa watched, their faces a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Pierre Mercier, a local schoolteacher who had volunteered as an interpreter during the evacuation, stood among the remaining residents. As the ships faded into the growing twilight, he turned to his wife, Sophie. "Do you think we'll be on one of those ships next time?" he asked, uncertainty in his voice. Sophie squeezed his hand, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "I don’t know, mon amour (my love). But whatever happens, we face it together." As night settled over Nouméa, the city's residents retreated to their homes, many wondering if this would be their last night in their beloved city. The usually lively streets were eerily silent, broken only by the distant echoes of collapsing structures—grim reminders of the conflict that had driven this massive evacuation.

As the ships cut through the dark Pacific waters, the evacuees began to settle in for their first night at sea. On HTMS Angthong, the hold had been transformed from an aircraft hangar into a dormitory. Families huddled together on makeshift beds as the ship’s speakers crackled to life. A calm voice explained the safety procedures and what to expect in the coming days, speaking in both French and English.

On the flight deck, where two helicopters were being parked, a group of young Kanaks had gathered. Iona, her face a mix of determination and fear, stood among them. As the cool night wind whipped around them, one of her companions began to sing a traditional Kanak song about journey and return. Gradually, others joined in, their voices blending together and carrying across the deck into the vast, dark ocean.

In his cabin, Rear Admiral Chainuwat reviewed the day’s operations and planned for tomorrow. This was just the beginning of the evacuation effort. Thousands more still waited in Nouméa for their turn. As he studied maps and logistics reports, he took a moment to reflect. Today, they had saved 8,500 lives. But at what cost? And what would the coming days bring?

As the Thai fleet sailed through the night toward the south of New Caledonia, leaving behind the lights of Nouméa, it carried more than just passengers. It bore the hopes, fears, and dreams of a displaced people. The ships' engines droned steadily, a mechanical lullaby for the thousands on board, each facing an uncertain future in a world upended by conflict.

The evacuation of Nouméa was underway. But this was only the start of a story that would reshape lives, redraw political boundaries, and challenge the concept of home for thousands. As the ships vanished into the darkness, the future of New Caledonia and the entire region hung in the balance.

For most of them, parting their home today was a harbinger of their new lives in refugee camps in New Zealand. From RG to RF, Auckland was their next location.

ManBear Jay Basedcnt Odinson Owen​

 

[ManBear]

New Caledonia, France, Pacific Ocean

As FOB Sokoly was finishing its final touches of reinforcement, Rosomaks would begin patrols throughout the island to begin a show of force for the remaining civilians who had not wished to evacuate the island. A small amount of medical clinics would be established under the watchful gaze of the 30mm mk44 Bushmaster II gun and the soldiers attached to it. Three medical clinics would be established at first, each with two Rosomaks and eleven soldiers per vehicle. The soldiers were under strict orders to maintain distance from the local population and to not travel alone. While they did not show open hostility towards the population, they certainly showed a level of caution when dealing with them. Often this would cause the soldiers to not allow the locals within arms length of them before the would hold out a hand and ask them to step back. Captain Mieczysław Gromek's demise was still fresh in their mind and they did not want the same fate to befall them during this time.

Three Rosomaks would remain within the base at all times with the crews nearby incase they were required to respond to threats assaulting the base. Two PZL W-3W helicopters were also on standby with full fuel tanks and fully loaded armaments in case they were called to provide close air support. The Colonel in charge of the fresh force on the ground would work with his superiors to begin importing the Polish Corps of Engineers to begin rebuilding efforts throughout Noumea and the Noumea Magenta Airport. The first thing on the list of activities for the Polish was the restart of basic utilities for the citizens on the island.

The Thai fleet would be closely monitored by the ten surface combat ships of the Task Force Amber Sentinel(Dokdo-class AAS, Seven Celestial-class Frigates, Two Yi-Sun-Sin-class Destroyers, and 2 Sohn Won-Yil-Class Submarines). Utilizing active air radar, surface radar, and sonar they would monitor the waters around New Caledonia while paying extra attention to the Thai fleet in transit between New Caledonia and New Zealand. With the issues arisen from the humanitarian supply issue, Poland would keep a close eye on the Thai forces in the region while they were still allowed to operate within the region.

An encrypted ship-to-ship call would be sent to the American flagship. "Rear Admiral Monroe, this Komandor Anatol Pruszkowski. I believe we worked together during the Thai-Myanmar crisis and then when Canada and France were at war with one another. I wish to offer my personal appreciation for the assistance of the fighters in negotiating a peaceful resolution to the insurgency with the K.I.M. leadership. I did not expect to see you again so soon under such circumstances but I am glad that you were there to answer the call when needed."

Odinson

 

[ManBear]

As the sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the dense jungle surrounding the Pirogues River in New Caledonia, the air was thick with humidity, filled with the distant calls of exotic birds echoing through the trees. A platoon of Polish soldiers, along with a detachment of medical professionals from the Royal Medical Service—part of the Polish humanitarian mission in New Caledonia—cautiously made their way across the narrow concrete bridge that spanned the river. Their mission was simple: escort the medical team back to their main base before nightfall, when the likelihood of attacks would increase.

Captain Jakub Nowak, a seasoned officer in Poland’s armed forces with a sharp instinct for danger, led the platoon. Though he had been in New Caledonia for only a few days, he had yet to acclimate to the tropical terrain, so vastly different from the broadleaved forests of his homeland. The Kanak Independence Movement (KIM) had been quiet since their large-scale attack on the Polish base, an event that had prompted the Poles' deployment to the region. However, the memory of that assault kept the Polish forces on high alert.

Trained to lead by example, Captain Nowak was in the lead KTO Rosomak armored vehicle when a sudden sense of foreboding washed over him. The thermal optics he had been using detected a brief flicker of movement in the jungle at the far end of the bridge. His instincts kicked into overdrive as he began to shout a warning to his driver through the headset, but before he could get a word out, an explosion rocked the vehicle. The force of the blast sent him slamming into his harness, saving him from being knocked unconscious. Through the viewport, he saw tracers streaking out of the trees as the KIM insurgents opened fire on the convoy.

The ambush was swift and brutal. KIM insurgents, hidden in the dense foliage on both sides of the river, had set a perfect trap for the convoy. The KTO Rys vehicles carrying the medical staff were stuck on the bridge, caught between the lead Rosomak and the insurgents at the front. The IED that had exploded beneath the lead Rosomak had dislodged a tire, rendering the vehicle immobile as the gunner struggled to regain his senses. The bridge offered little protection for the Polish forces, who found themselves in a dire situation.

Captain Nowak quickly began barking orders to his men as his head cleared. “Kowalski, engage targets to the front!” His gunner responded with a quick "Yes, sir!" before the 30mm cannon began its deep, rhythmic thumping, its high-explosive incendiary rounds sending shrapnel and devastation into the insurgents' positions. “Witek, reverse back down the bridge while your gunner engages forces to the rear. Prepare to dismount and engage with small arms when there’s a lull. Use your vehicle for cover while we try to get out of the water.”

Nowak immediately began inputting critical information into the BMS Fonet system in front of him. He marked the rough locations of enemy positions and sent urgent messages to other units on the network, calling for immediate air support. The steady thump of the Bushmaster cannon provided a small comfort to the men trapped inside the Rosomak; they knew that opening the hatch would flood the vehicle, knocking them out of the fight altogether.

Minutes felt like hours as the firefight raged around them. The insurgents were relentless, their small arms fire unable to penetrate the Rosomak’s armor but still posing a serious threat. It became clear that this was no ordinary ambush—KIM had meticulously planned this attack, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But they hadn’t counted on the resilience of the Polish forces or the fortitude of the Rosomak. The vehicle’s rear propellers engaged, and despite the loss of a tire, it began its slow crawl towards the riverbank, its remaining wheels gripping the soft soil and pulling it free from the water.

Behind them, Lieutenant Witek’s forces dismounted from their vehicles, taking cover behind the hulking Rosomak as they engaged the KIM insurgents with small arms, grenades, and Carl Gustavs. The roar of the Bushmaster continued to fill the air, tearing through the jungle with lethal precision.

As Captain Nowak’s Rosomak reached dry land, the powered ramp lowered, and the soldiers inside poured out, weapons at the ready. The 30mm Bushmaster provided covering fire as the Polish forces regrouped and prepared to push back against their attackers. Then, the jungle erupted in flames and explosions as two PZL W-3W helicopters roared overhead, unloading their rocket pods into the insurgents' positions. The gunfire ceased as quickly as it had begun, replaced by the sound of collapsing trees and crackling fire.

Twenty minutes. That was the official duration of the Pirogues Ambush—from the start of the attack to the last echo of gunfire. In that brief span, the KIM insurgents had launched a vicious assault on a peaceful convoy, only to be met with the full force of Polish resolve. Captain Nowak knew that the next attack would likely be worse and that they would need quicker access to air support and quick reaction forces if they were to continue their humanitarian mission in such a hostile environment.

When the Polish forces finally made it back to their forward operating base, escorted by the helicopters that had saved them, the damaged Rosomak was in dire need of repairs. It would take weeks to replace the axle, tire, and damaged components from the IED blast. Fortunately, no one had been seriously injured—two soldiers had broken teeth from the explosion’s impact, and the driver had sustained a broken arm, but all would recover quickly.

For his actions during the ambush, Captain Nowak would receive an official commendation. The event, now officially referred to as the Pirogues Ambush, would be recounted back home as a testament to the bravery and resilience of the Polish forces in the face of overwhelming odds. On the opposing side, the Kanak Independence Movement proved they were still a viper capable of striking. They also proved that their ingenuity would be a threat to the peace of the region for a long time. The KIM was here to stay and they wouldn't stop until all foreign colonial powers were gone from their island.

 

[Bossza007]

Secret and secure unless contextually possible. | NSST 1.0 Architecture​

Auckland Central Business District (CBD), the economic heart of Auckland, the financial enter of New Zealand, the headquarters of Socialist Causes’ South Pacific office, and the area adjacent to the refugee camps
Reproduced work under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license adapted from this source​

As the first light of morning stretched over the South Pacific Ocean, the Republic Auxiliary Fleet drew closer to the exclusive economic zone of New Zealand. Crew members began to stir aboard each vessel, moving through the corridors as if trapped in a time warp. The sun climbed higher, marking the passage of time with its steady ascent.

Rear Admiral Surapong Chainuwat stood at the window of the circular command room aboard the HTMS Angthong, his gaze fixed on the northern horizon where his fleet was heading. Seagulls flew by, signaling the proximity of the islands ahead. A voice crackled through the communication system, breaking the silence. "New Zealand Navy, New Zealand Navy. This is HTMS Angthong of the Republic Auxiliary Fleet’s Amphibious and Combat Support Service Squadron Two. We are accompanied by six replenishment tankers from Logistic Support Squadrons and fifteen of our own vessels. We request immediate escort from the New Zealand Navy." As the message ended, Surapong gave a nod of approval to his subordinate.

In the makeshift passenger areas, refugees were escorted from their sleeping quarters, which were usually reserved for the Republic Marine forces. Humanitarian workers conducted a morning roll call as they prepared for their arrival in Auckland. Among the lined-up refugees, Gwenaëlle Gérin frantically called for her lost son. “Dylan, où es-tu ? Mon Dylan !” (Dylan, where are you? My Dylan!) Her cry of desperation cut through the crowd, a stark contrast to the cautious hope in the air. “Madame, voyez-vous mon fils ? C’est un jeune garçon de huit ans aux cheveux châtains bouclés, portant une chemise rouge !” Gérin shouted to her fellow refugees in French, describing her son as an eight-year-old with curly brown hair wearing a red shirt.

A few Thai humanitarian workers, accompanied by Romuald, a local from Nouméa who had volunteered to assist with translations, approached her. “Madam, please calm down. Can you describe what your son looks like and where you last saw him?” Romuald asked gently in French. Gérin, overwhelmed with worry, struggled to recount the details of her son’s disappearance.

Before Romuald could relay the information to the Thai workers, a group of Thai sailors, led by a young female officer, arrived. “Lieutenant Nattawadee,” she introduced herself with a salute. “We’ve found a young boy trapped in the engine room. One of the engineers rescued him.” Before she could say more, the young boy and the French woman ran into each other’s arms, their joyful reunion bringing smiles to everyone around them.

As the fleet approached New Zealand's territorial waters, Auckland's skyline began to emerge on the horizon. Coordinating with New Zealand authorities, each helicopter carrying thirty Thai humanitarian personnel from the Endurance-class LPDs would soon depart from the flight deck, heading to designated zones to work with local forces and ensure a smooth transition for the refugees.

As the Thai fleet slowed, many refugees gazed from the flight deck at the distant silhouette of their new home, Auckland. Their future was uncertain, their only clear view being the parting Thai helicopters. New opportunities awaited them, built on the ruins of their shattered dreams from New Caledonia. This moment served as a stark reminder: neither the foreign forces nor the insurgents had improved their lives in Nouméa since the conflict began.

Basedcnt​

 

[Basedcnt]

Commodore Jack Steer would be in the bridge of HMNZS Canterbury, acting as the New Zealand Navy co-ordinator. Canterbury would be sitting, near port, in Auckland. With her would be 2 Moa patrol boats, an Endeavour tanker and a Flight 2 Moa. Canterbury would have embarked 1 NH.2A and 2 MH.2As, all equipped for VERTREP/transport. Upon Canterbury's radio operator recieving the message, CDRE Steer would come over and reply. "HMTS Angthong, this is New Zealand Ship Canterbury, callsign Zulu Mike Charlie Romeo. HMNZS Auckland will be with you shortly, and another frigate is being sortied to escort you as I speak. Over."

HMNZS Auckland would be on her regular deployment for Operation Territorial Watch, and would be directed to the Thai fleet's location to escort them. Simultanously, Flight 2 ANZAC frigate HMNZS Christchurch would sortie from Naval Base Devonport (with same weaponry, sensor ect. state/condition/amount as outlined in Op TW) and procede at 20 knots to the Thai fleet's location.

Once the Thai vessels, and 2 New Zealand frigates, were within kiwi territorial waters, the two Flight 1 and one Flight 2 patrol boats in Auckland would come out to meet them and provide close escort to the LPDs. Auckland ATC would direct the helicopters to land at closed-off cities corners and at Auckland's port, and the 6 Air Force helicopters at RNZAF Base Auckland would start ferrying humanitarian workers, supplies from shore to ship.

Port of Auckland boats would ferry port pilots to each ship. They would direct 3 LPDs at a time to dock at the Ports of Auckland, all the way from Wynyard Quarter to the Bedisloe Wharf and Terminal. Waiting for the LPDs would be over 500 Police officers, Defence Force personnel and Immigration Service workers to vet the thousands of refugees. There would also be 200 Health and Fire Service personnel to hand out any needed medical assistance and to help the injured get to Auckland's hospitals. Once the refugees had disembarked, and were not in need of medical assistance, they would be given their visa and temporary ID and driven - by Air Force or Navy trucks - to one of the parks assigned to house refugees. Police officers would block intersections to allow the refugee trucks to drive uninpeded to the parks/camps. Once there, their names would be put into a database, to check for family that they might've been seperated from, and they would be assigned pre-fab housing that would serve as their home. They would also be given clothes, food and water, and would be checked over by health personnel for any injuries, infections or glaring illnesses.

Bossza007

 

[Bossza007]

Secret and secure unless contextually possible. | NSST 1.0 Architecture​

Victoria Park, Auckland​

When 15 Thai helicopters landed in the area designated by the New Zealand Government, 420 humanitarian workers, coordinators, and liaisons disembarked to coordinate the mission with local authorities. Meanwhile, thirty naval pilots worked closely with the New Zealand military to manage the large Thai fleet in New Zealand waters. Most Thai personnel spoke English fluently, interacting smoothly with locals and New Zealand staff while upholding a professional demeanor. Occasionally, pilots would present their New Zealand counterparts with a box of Chang beers, a popular Thai worker-cooperative brand, as a gesture of goodwill from the naval aviation center. “Sir, my team would like to offer this beverage as a gift from our naval aviation center. It’s a widely enjoyed brand in Thailand. We hope you enjoy it,” one pilot said with a salute.

As each Endurance-class LPD docked at the naval base, it marked the second time Republic Navy vessels had been under New Zealand's watchful eye. The massive ramps lowered onto the dockyard, offering the people of Nouméa a close-up view of New Zealand for the first time. Many watched in awe as personnel and authorities disembarked, their hearts racing with the realization of a new future unfolding thousands of kilometers from home. The ramps ahead seemed to embody both anticipation and uncertainty. How long would they remain refugees? How would they adapt to a society and culture so different from their own? Would their status as refugees remain secure amid shifting political winds? Answers were elusive, but the path forward was already set.

Meanwhile, female representatives from the Socialist Causes would approach one of the New Zealand officials supervising the refugee affairs. “Excuse me, sir. My name Rera Winiata. I am a representative from an association dedicated to public service through education promotion called Socialist Causes. I am here to convey that 700 members of our organization wish to volunteer to assist with the local authority. We are aware that the operation is one of a large scale, which will need a substantial public support. As part of this, New Zealand Councils of Trade Unions has decided that they will coordinate with workers across Auckland who are affected by the change in public policy to support this refugee housing. We look forward to working with the New Zealand Government to further enhance our public-to-private collaboration.” She would hand over her business card to the official.

As trucks transporting refugees began arriving at public parks, people from New Caledonia looked around Auckland cityscape with the same awe as local people experienced one of the country largest humanitarian commitments in modern times. A local kiwi in his fifty was observing the special occasion as he watched a female cashier from a local bakery store next to one of the parks to prepare his breads. “Indubitably unbelievable!” The man exclaimed, gaining the attention of others in the store. “Now our country is housing thousands of refugees poverty is prevalent! How is this even possible! I don’t want to believe that the Labor is seeking closer ties with the communist superpower at the expands of our economy!” The man continued shouting as more refugees arrived at the park, claiming that those spaces are for New Zealand patriots not some people from a country that can’t take care of its citizens.

A female cashier returned to the register area, carrying a bag of freshly baked bread that filled the room with a comforting aroma. “Mr. James, the recent election was a significant win for the Labor party, and the opposition hasn't been very active in challenging the government. It’s good that our country is accepting refugees, even though we’re only taking a small fraction. Most are heading to Thailand. If we can’t support them all, we could always ask the Thai Government to relocate any remaining refugees from Auckland to Bangkok. We should prioritize helping those in need, regardless of their nationality. And, if I may add, isn’t our economy showing signs of recovery since that business forum with the Thai diplomat? At least the Global Assembly can now assess our economy more accurately.” She placed the bag on the table with a bright smile, not noticing the troubled expression on Mr. James’s face.

Meanwhile, the Republic Auxiliary fleet continued to evacuate refugees from New Caledonia to Auckland as planned. Once Auckland’s humanitarian capacity was reached, any remaining refugees would be transported to Bangkok using civilian airlines from Thailand or New Zealand, with the costs covered by the government.

Basedcnt​

 

[Alexander]

Opération Inferno
The non-existent French response at the height of hostilities had been nothing less than a national humiliation, yet now order had to be returned. Under authority of the Princess of New Caledonia the Imperial French Armed Forces had been invited to deploy their forces on the island. While some would see this as a simple formality, since recent increases in self-rule the permission by the designated authority was critical, and the lack of it the primary cause why RIMAP-NC and 5e RHC on the islands had been unable to act. The most important thing now was to return stability to New Caledonia and create confidence in both the population on the island and those that had fled that it was safe to stay.

As part of this effort orders were given for all French forces on New Caledonia to engage in a visible presence. While the Marines of RIMAP-NC were normally intended for operations on foreign soil in the Pacific, they were more than capable of acting on New Caledonia as well. Consisting of 8,000 marines and 50 VAB Azures patrols would commence on a shift basis. At any time 2,000 Marines would patrol and guard Nouméa, Koné and Lifou. Of the 50 VAB Azures 20 would be assigned to Nouméa and 10 each to Koné and Lifou.

In addition to this 500 Marines utilizing the remaining 10 VABs would be tasked with searching the areas outside the cities for any rebel cells. This was a temporary measure as the Imperial Army had already ordered the 1er Brigade étranger to transport to the islands on the Mistral as part of GAN1 once it arrived.

In the meantime all forces would be supported by the 20 Tiger HAP and 20 NH90 TTH from the 5e RHC that would operate over New Caledonia to identify rebel positions and support French and allied forces. The Imperial Air and Space Force would keep its fighters ready and fueled in case any units called for greater air support than the attack helicopters could provide. The 5 Harfang UAVs would however commence around the clock operations over the island to track any activity and relay said information to the Army.

The Navy not to be outdone had already positioned its forces on a safe distance from the island against terrorism but close enough that they could still provide fire support. The New Caledonia Squadron was far from the largest formation in the Navy, but it still carried an impact. Of course once GAN1, the pride of the Imperial Navy, arrived they could provide even more fire and air support.

With these operations going the Commander New Caledonia, Brigadier General Alix Germain would reach out to the Polish Commander to meet and discuss the establishment of an allied centre to coordinate operations. All movements made by French forces would be communicated to Polish authorities as to avoid any confusion in the field. While commencing their formal investigations into the intelligence failure that led to such a massive insurgency right under their eyes, the DGSI made note of a troubling increase in so-called 'red-flagged' arrivals. When the Civil War ended the Empress gave all those who surrendered amnesty, but they were still flagged due to a proven record of disloyal activities. The presence of a significant number of these people on New Caledonia raised suspicions of their involvement but they couldn't be sure yet. The DGSI would prepare its own team to travel to the island and investigate, as well as reach out to Polish Intelligence for any information they could provide.

Considering their prior involvement in supplying the rebels, and in particular growing resentment against the Thai presence on New Caledonia among the local populace messages would be sent to the Thai forces and any other nations' forces other than the Polish to withdraw from the islands.

ManBear Jay Bossza007

 

[Bossza007]

Secret and secure unless contextually possible. | NSST 1.0 Architecture​

A secure communication was sent to the Imperial French Armed Forces Headquarters, confirming that all units of the Republic Thai Armed Forces had been withdrawn from the South Pacific and Oceania. The message stressed the urgent request for France to swiftly reestablish control and stability in New Caledonia, while conducting operations with strict adherence to ethical military standards, minimizing collateral damage to civilian lives, property, and infrastructure. A second, more heavily secured message was sent, indicating that the Republic Navy was redeploying 36 naval elements across the waters of Asia. The communication highlighted that the Republic Navy would soon establish comprehensive surveillance capabilities over all maritime and airborne activities entering or existing the Bay of Bengal, the Andaman Sea, the South China Sea (including the Luzon and Taiwan Straits), and the East China Sea.​