Josephine

𝓔𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓭𝓮 45: 𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓲𝓮𝓰𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓻 𝓝𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱

March 21, 1974

Kuujjuarapik, Quebec Republic

11 miles from the Great Tundra

Explosions rocked the earth to its core, shaking it like a beast stomping on the ground. But it wasn't a monster, rather thirty artillery guns and twenty planes blasting the last rebel compounds at Kuujjuarapik to hell. The siege has been going on for a month and a half now, how they managed to survive this long is beyond me. At Christmas, we received a lot of fire support from the south, such as heavier guns, more planes, and more ammo. Unfortunately, no soldiers. My army of 1100 really needed the support badly, but we were making do with what we had.

The rebels had clearly entrenched themselves and I knew better than to launch an all-out assault on the remnants of their position. It would be a slaughterhouse- but at the same, I didn't know how to make the rebels crack and break. Their resolve was remarkably strong for a cause so broken by this point. The planes overhead swooped back towards the airport, ready to rearm and refuel for another round of relentless bombing. I raised my binoculars and looked around the smoldering town. Many of the houses were rubble, though many of the community buildings were left untouched. I had received news that the villagers were hunkering down in said buildings while the rebel garrison used residential areas for defense. They were also using the port, where three destroyers were parked and one battleship flying the ensign of the Maritime Republic was anchored. Those ships really prevented the planes from hitting hard. Our artillery barely scratched the hulls of those ships. They had stockpiled steel and iron from Britain and Sweden before the embargo and they were able to still maintain a sustainable fleet. Britain had started lending us aid according to a letter from Prime Minister Palmerston, which I remembered from memory:

Your majesty Josephine,

The British Parliament in London has begun to send us aid in the form of compensation for supporting the rebellion earlier in its stages. They are also considering joining the war officially because the rebels are raiding their warehouses and seizing steel and iron reserves. It is likely they are doing this with Sweden as well. This is just outright piracy!

I am not writing to ask you anything, but because I feel it is my duty as Prime Minister to inform you of the domestic situation, as you are my sovereign and I am your subject.

On a more personal level, I hope you are keeping yourself and your soldiers safe. Your people miss you dearly and pray every day for your safe return.

Please return soon, these Traditionalists are really making my life a misery, especially that dreaded Humberto!

Evermore,

Samuel Palmerston

I had appreciated the letter and appreciated that Palmerston was looping me in on the happenings at court. I wasn't surprised that Juan Humberto was trying to usurp power from my chosen Prime Minister, and I knew I'd have to deal with him upon my return to New York. But right now I needed to focus on the battle at hand. Those ships at the harbor of Kuujjuarapik had thrown me off on quite the mental tangent. I focused my gaze now on the massive oil and fuel station just onshore in the center of town. I quickly realized what I needed to do to force them to give in. I needed to blow that station to heaven. That was where they were fueling their ships, their guns, and whatnot. Without that fuel station, they were metaphorical toast.

I spun on my heels and rushed through the crowd of soldiers behind me, dashing towards the airport. They knew I had a plan and were quick to move out of the way. I need to find Marc Pompey, the head of my pilot division. He was a talented pilot and trained those who were carrying out the bombing raids. He would be issuing their new targets within a few minutes, so I needed to hurry up and get my butt over there before they took off. I rounded a corner on the path to the airport, where I saw a majority of the plane's refueling, with engineers rearming them with bombs. I saw Pompey come into view, drilling his pilots, and I knew I was running out of time.