NationStates Jolt Archive

It was cold in Altara. Colder than any of the southerners could believe. Here, in the loosely settled north of Novar Ohan, there were no mighty cities, no fortifications for the nobles. There were just small towns, and farmsteads. There were no nobles higher than the rank of Squire here, except for the Burghomeister, way over in Altara 'City'. There weren't enough people. Nobles preferred places where the air was warmer, and the houses weren't made from woo

And this winter, there was getting to be less.

A spade hit the earth, and the Priest began to chant. Thomas Darlaze walked away. He didn't need religion. He needed his friend back. A whisper caught his ear. A radio was playing music, somewhere nearby. He paused. There was another voice. "Psst, Thomas... come here."

Thomas turned. Peeking out of the wooden window was another friend, a fellow worker in the fields. "What is it, James?"

"Listen to this..."

It was a radio programme. But it was unlike any either had ever heard so far. Music was played, music intrinsically foriegn to the ears of any Roanian, music which wasn't marches or martial themes, or religious chants. Then the man read out something from a document called The Constitution of the United States of America, and then the bill of rights.

And a new world opened up for the two men. Thomas listened, amazed at this talk of democracy, and sufferage for all men. He knew that Roania was a democracy, but it wasn't for him, or the vast majority of people. Only the nobles and rich merchants could vote. He listened as the man also started to talk about such things as freedom of religion. He didn't like the sound of that, though.

Then he heard something else. The man had begun reading from The Communist Manifesto. And a new world opened up. Oh, sure, the communist manifesto was legal in Roania. But it wasn't at all like this one. It had been read by a visiting Stalinist Party Commissar, and it had been all about 'joining together for a common cause, the advancement of society as a whole'. This was different. This was about people like Thomas.

And somehow, Thomas knew that this was the original.

A gunshot was fired. A polizei officer walked over, a grim look on his face. "Turn that rubbish off, citizen."

James moved to do so, frightened at being so addressd. Thomas stopped him. He turned to the officer. "No."

The Polizei stared, shocked. As if he didn't know what to do. "Now see here, citizen... what's your citizenship number?"

"I have a name, pig." Thomas didn't believe what he was saying. But he could see. It was all clear to him...

The officer aimed his gun at Thomas, and sighed. "Very well then..." Thomas leapt for the gun, and wrested it from the officer's hands. He opened fire, quickly figuring out how to make the weapon do as he wanted. The officer fell to the ground, dead.

A crowd started to gather, leaving the cabins and shanties. Some of them looked worried. Another work-mate of Thomas and James shouted, "Now we'll have the entire army on us, then! I hope you're satisfied."

"No. No, I am not satisfied. People of Ana-tevka! For too long have we been abused by the southerners!" Thomas spoke of what he had learned, of what he now knew. The crowd listened. At the end of his speech, Thomas stood up straight, pointing the gun into the air. "We must free ourselves from this oppression! Revolution!"

The Altarans, used to obeying anyone holding a weapon, shouted, "Revolution!"

Thomas sighed. He knew they did not truly believe. But they would. And then, he would free the workers of Roania from the control of the arrogant Aristocracy.

<==========>

The word spread throughout Altara, travelling via little known roads and trails...

OOC: Tags and questions only right now, I have one more post to do tomorrow, and then I'll open it.

<<OOC: What kind of logistics are we talking about if Edolia decided to arm rebels? What would be the best way to get guns, equipment and special forces into the country?>>

OOC: Well, you would need an airport in Altara that could accept large cargoes.

They don't exist. You would need to find some way to send your special forces soldiers through south Roania. And they'd be useless, because the Roanians have a very direct way of dealing with people who attempt to bring weapons onto planes.

i.e., they shoot them, and everyone travelling with them. Right there, in the airport.

You might be able to get a man in if they can land on the northern shore of Novar Ohan, and then use a grappeling hook to climb up the 180 degree cliff-face that rises from the ocean floor. But anyone found doing that is shot. You wouldn't believe how many refugee bones line Roania's beaches.

Hey, it's a police state. Revolutions aren't meant to be easy, especially when the vast majority of the population are quite, quite content as it stands.

Basic historical background:

The Altarans have a history of coming in last in civil wars. In the War of Unification, the duchies that make up the land now known as Altara were beaten to a bloody pulp. Massive amounts of people were killed, and the entire northern area of Roania was forcibly turned into farmland. Even speaking the name of the old duchies is punishable by death.

After that, the southern city-states (Derricks, Agua, Roan, and Tarnaqin) were eventually united under Roan, and then soldiers were sent north to bring Altara completely under control. After that, whoever was in charge treated the Altarans in a way that made the Russian Tzars look compassionate.

Then, Rasputin Macchiavelli came from Altara, and disposed of the Al-Roan Kings. When the Roanians had managed to extricate themselves from that situation, his aristocratic successors had, oddly, decided to hold the entire people of Altara to blame for his rule. No international airport in Altara, and no Altarans were allowed to travel. Government aid became even less than it was under the Kings.

Finally, the entire place was sealed to the outside world. Foriegners were never allowed in Altara. As far as the Roanians were concerned, their island ended at Derricks.

((This is going to get big, I sense. Taggishness.))

Well, if it comes to blows, you know I'd be willing to crush socialists/commies/etc...I mean, the ICMC did massacre over 400 students at a peaceful protest once...

Meanwhile: In the Peoples Republic of Kuppo

Ivan Solvnia run as fast as he could into the people's ministry of defense. The building was still littered with bullet holes from the revolution three weeks ago. The old military regime still had its flag hanging from the flag pole. As he made his way down the hall he was met by general Vladmir Rogma his head general

"Sir, the people of Roania....our neighbors are revolted."
The news brought a smile to Ivan's face. His socialist revolution was indeed sprending out toward other countries.
"Excellent, i knew building radio stations at our broaders was a great idea, Thank the minister of public propaganda for that."
"What should we do sir, shall we send troops."
"Of course, we must help this revoltion because this is a revoltion of the people." said Ivan "Send 100 troops of are elite men to Roania, and use one of the old World war bombers to drop food, supplies and propaganda.....but make sure that the Roania government doesn't no it's us. We will support this revoltion and at the same time publicy speak out against it." By now the two men had reach the end of all the hall way. They walked into a small room where 10 generals were sitting by a long table. As Ivan walked in the generals stood up in respect to thier new leader. Before he could acknowledge them, Ivan said "Show me the quickest way i can get troops and propaganda into this country."
One of the generals pointed to the northern shore of Novar Ohan

OOC- a breif history to Kuppo

Kuppo was once a kingdom ruled by a council of nobles. However the military soon got angrey when the leaders fired high ranking generals. In 1831, the military waged a succusful coup against the council. From 1831 to 2004, the military established a brutal regime. Killing a large numbers of people who dare speak out and tortuning millions. In 2000 the military regime allowed elections to please some of thier citizens. The socialist party of Kuppo won a large amount of local elections and won 40 percent of the parilament. After the elections, General Alexander Davion canceled elections and told the winners of the socialist party that they would not be allowed to take office. This led to revoltions and a civil war between supporters of the socialist and the military. Just 3 weeks ago, the civil war came to an end with the socialist succesfully ousting General Davion. The new Chairman of the socialist state is Ivan Solvnia, who had lived in exile while the civil war waged on. Kuppo's top export is vodka.

The snow was beginning to melt in February, at long last. Millions had died due to the bitter cold and lack of food. But over the months since that first fateful day, the AIP (Altaran Independent Politburo) had started to gain the hearts of more and more of the citizenry. Thomas and James had died in the first month, under mysterious circumstances. Their role had been replaced, and they were touted as heroes by the new leader of the revolution, Kazinsky.

http://images.google.com.au/images?q=tbn:HJ3_TkQNgyEJ:www.aldeaeducativa.com/small/nikita.jpg
CRO of Altara, Yosef Kazinsky

Tonight, hundreds of men packed into a room to hear him speak. He stood on the podium, every inch a leader. He was taking a terrible risk. The fasco-democratic capitalists were becoming more and more suspicious. But that didn't matter. "Товарищи!" He shouted in the Russian common to this part of the world. "будьте помещен!" He then spoke in German for a few minutes, confident that everyone would be able to follow him, "Ich spreche mit Ihnen in der Sprache, die wir in diesen Zeiten sprechen müssen. Unsere Leute sind hinunter geschlagen worden, ist unser Land in den Händen von denjenigen, die unsere Arbeit ausbeuten, für keinen Gewinn nach uns! Aber wir sind stark! Die Arbeiterklasse vom Südlichland wird ihre Brüder anschließen, und wir werden die Aristokratie und die Kaufleute erobern, die reich auf unserer Arbeit wachsen! Ich verspreche, daß Sie, Land und Speise arbeiten! Arbeit, dessen Produkte werden Sie behalten können. Landen Sie, den Sie in Ihrem eigenen Recht besitzen werden. Und Speise, die Sie ohne Soldaten und Polizeioffizier werden essen können, nehmend es von Ihnen!" He paused. He had them hanging off his every word. They waited for him to finish, and he did.

"Ich verspreche Ihnen Freiheit von Angst! Wer ist mit mir?"

There was a loud shout of agreement, and as one everyone rose and applauded. Kazinsky turned, and pointed out of a window at a small manor. "Then come my comrades, let us begin! Let us free our people from slavery!"

OOC: Kuppo, you have radio stations outside *my* borders?

Seriously? Under the sea? Dear God... how is this done?

Oh, and anyone want a translation of that large block of German?

I speak with you in the languagevthat we must speak in these times. Our people were struck down, our country is in the hands of those that exploit our work, so that there is no profit for us! But we are strong! The worker class of the southern country will connect its brothers, and we will conquer the aristocracy and the merchants who grow rich due to our work! I promise that to you my country men, work and food! Work, whose products you will keep. Land will become yours. And food, that you will be able to eat without soldiers and police officer, taking it from you!

Close?

OOC: Close enough.

You can commence getting garbled intelligence reports from Roania, if you want.

Taking action will be penalised by being removed from the thread, and slapped with a halibut. No one moves until I say so...

Well, like I said, I'm waiting for you to give the go ahead. I have no use or sympathy for those who revolt, especially towards comunio/socialistic ideas.

An overworked Pantocratorian intelligence officer, sitting at his desk in an office in a classified location whose existence has never been officially recognised, looks over a print-out from some sort of surveillance equipment whose existence has likewise never been acknowledged. For days now he had been desperately searching, along with the rest of the "non-existant" Pantocratorian intelligence community, for information regarding the fatal bioagent now apparently loose in New Rome as a result of an elven terrorist. He had been following up leads from the investigation of Prince Bastianel of Aelosia, trying to determine the identity of that terrorist, but had kept on seeing the name of a Roanian inquisitor pop-up, over and over again. Desperate for any sort of clue, and without any sort of authorisation from his superiors, the intelligence officer had started to monitor the communications of the Roanian embassy of New Rome.

His eyes scanned over today's summary. The summary showed that the embassy had processed a few visa applications, sent the timesheets of its employees back to Roania, and made a number of other transmissions, all seemingly unrelated to the attack on New Rome. The officer suspected that the monitoring equipment at his disposal could never hope to intercept more than the most mundane communications. Then his tired eyes saw an acronym he'd not seen before.

"AIP"

His interest piqued, the officer read on. Some words hadn't been translated. The sentence read "AIP ... malcontents ... Altara ... ... ... ". The officer's heart sunk. Altara could hardly be further away from Pantocratoria. The new acronym had nothing to do with what was going on in New Rome. He fed the print-out through the shredder and reached for another cup of coffee. He had wasted too much precious time following up the Roanian connection. It was time to start over again.

The Squire looked outside. "The peasants are revolting, dear."

"Yes, they are." His wife replied, not looking up.

"No, I mean..." he fell backwards, a bullet through his skull.

<==========>

"Comrades!" Karinsky shouted, as he stood on the rubble. "We have liberated the people of this village, but we must move to Altara, and storm the palace! Come, my brethren!"

<<OOC: Hmmm... Seems like a tough problem. I'll keep alert.>>

Erik von Blatterschplitt paced the room. This was indeed an opportunity that he had been waiting for for some time. The idea of overthrowing a powerful and oppressive, capitalistic regime was quite enjoyable. If only it was easier for us to actually do anything... There was a knock on the door. "Come." Johannes von Clesiburg, Grand Marshal of Edolia strode in to the Imperial Office.
"M'lord," he began. "We have new intelligence that the rebellion in Altaran has spread. I've spoken with quite a number of intelligence analysts on this matter... The prospects of us being able to arm these rebels in the near future does not look good. The only way we could even hope to do so is launch a full invasion..."
"And that is out of the question."
"Yes, sir. Of course."
"What would you reccomend? We cannot allow the people of Altaran to suffer alone."
"No sir. But they're going to have to suffer by themselves for a little bit longer, at least until they are able to capture a stretch of coastline. Once that happens, airlifting in supplies shouldn't be too difficult."
"I want your intelligence operatives working hard on getting into contact with any sort of leadershi

<<OOC: Would the statements made by the Grand Marshal be correct, logistically? Or, have they already captured a coastline? If that's the case, regardless of having a place to land, wouldn't one be able to just fly some planes in and airdrop supplies?

Also, would it be possible to send a short message to the AIP through secure channels? I'm wondering how advanced their communcations network is.>>

Meanwhile, the inexpensive station cobbled together from off-the-shelf parts and dropped off the northern coast as nothing more than a protest against censorship by the Roanian government continues broadcasting various readings from various sources, both sacred and secular:

"There are men who have no vision, and yet they speak many words. They speak the letter of the Vedas, and they say: 'There is nothing but this.'

"Their soul is warped with selfish desired, and their heaven is a selfish desire. They have prayers for pleasures and power, the reward of which is earthly rebirth.

"Those who love pleasure and power hear and follow their words: they have not the determination to ever be with the One.

"The three Gunas of Nature are the world of the Vedas. Arise beyond the three Gunas, Arjuna! Be in Truth eternal, beyond eartly opposites. Beyond gains and possessions, possess thine own soul.

"This is Victor Layton of the Lighthouse Radio Network and that was a reading from the Bhagavad Gita chapter two verses fourty-two to fourty-five. The Gita is a smallish section of a larger masterwork of Hinduism, the Mahabarata, which describes a war between two sides of the same family for control, and specifically retells a conversation between the legitimate prince Arjuna and his charioteer, Krishna just before a major battle. The setting of the war and the seeming necessity for brother to fight brother is used as a metaphor for the difficult situations facing all people throughout life, along with the traditional metaphor of the constant battle against the baser aspects of human nature.

"Following a short bit of music, next up on the Lighthouse Radio Network will be readings from the Qu'ran and the Gospel of Mary Magdalene. Lighthouse One and the Lighthouse Radio Network are services of the SADMC for the merchant marine."

* - * - *

"We're getting some interesting SIGINT from Roania, chief," the man on the other end of the line buzzes in the universally conspiritorial tone of the Intelligence Section as he frowns professionally. "We're not sure what's up, but it seems like something's beginning to annoy them and it's probably internal."

"Define 'annoy.'" Intelligence Advisor Janus Garbo frowns mightily. "Hell, I'm sure Razak's pet project 'annoys' them, but they've never done anything about it."

"'Annoy' as in 'sufficiently worried that they may need to take action.' Signs point to something happening in the northern regions, which may make us culpable. Definitely within broadcast range of Lighthouse One, that's for sure."

"'Culpable?'" Garbo snorts. "Lighthouse One is a navigation beacon and a station for people who would listen to The Origin of Species or Camus audio recordings while they travel... remember?"

"Ummm... yes, sir."

"Tell me if anything more comes of it." Garbo cuts off the connection and leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. Leaning forward again momentarily, he taps a key on the intraoffice intercom. "Hey, boss... yeah, Julie, I may have something to tell you."

OOC: What time is this in relation to the 'Pax Roania' thread?

Becoming suspicious, the Cyberutopian government authorized routine Valkryie-B recon plane flights over the desolate region of Altara, and the information gathered was quietly assimilated.

OOC: Taiwan, about... a year after.

IC:

Minister Michael von Derza looked at the intelligence reports. "You're sure that it's coming from that light-house?"

"Yessir."

"Very well then. My orders are simple. I want you to contact Windward Base. Have them send several Centurions up to that lighthouse, and kill *everyone* they find. I don't care if they are women, children or men. I want them dead, and the bodies tossed into the ocean. Then I want you to clean it up, so that there's no sign of a struggle."

"Yessir."

<========>

The forces of the Proletarians began to draw ever closer to Altara, and the Burghomeister. The noble had, in anticipation, begun massive conscription.

However, he was unwittingly driving even more people into the arms of the AIP, and there was no hope of gaining military support from the south at this moment in time.

Lighthouse One is best described as "perfunctorially hacked together" from off-the-shelf parts never intended to go together. It consists of an extendable truss, currently deployed to its maximum reach, forming a highly oblongated hemisphere that extends a decent distance into the air. Stretched over the extendable truss is a metallic material, obviously acting as additional surface area for the transmitter, also acting to turn the structure into a large, low-mass receiver.

At the base of the transmitter is a large toroidal pontoon, keeping the system on the surface. Inside the internal radius of the toroid lies the original command and control and transmission equipment, apparently designed to fit into a much smaller volume than it now occupies. From the careful and precise construction of these components, it quite possibly could have been military-grade at some time or another, possibly highly classified even. Now, it is no more complex or secret than it has to be to perform the task of transmitting signals at a given wavelength through half-hearted jamming.

A conical hull protects the equipment from the salt water of the northern ocean, and a tether extends from the point of the cone all the way to the bottom, obviously (after inspection) drilled automatically by the tether head. Not perfect, by any means, but sufficient.

The entire station is unmanned.

There was a dripping sound in the palace. Outside, the aftermath of a war seemed to fade into the distance beside this simple dripping sound. A hand lies upon the floor, a pool of blood spilling out. Next to that hand, another one as well, this one that of a woman.

The Burghomeister and his wife lay on the floor of the palace, their throats cut.

<========>

Kasinsky faced the immense crowd. "My Comrades!" The great man said. "My partners, in this, the greatest endeavour a human could ask for! We have slain the foul puppet of the Southerners! We have proven Altara is strong! And now we are free!"

A massive cry answered his words. Kasinsky allowed it to carry on, and when it faded he spoke once more, "I am proud to be an Altaran. Now, my comrades, let us go and make this state truly free! Go, and find the Bourgoise and Aristocracy! Remove the articles they possess, and bring them here, so that we may truly claim to be embracing the ideals that have been passed to us!"

The crowd shouted with glee, and then marched out singing revolutionary songs. None of them realised the storm that was going to fall on their heads...

<=======>

Merkenoff read the dispatches from the north furiously. "How dare these pathetic barbarians... I have a duty as Interior Minister to put down this revolt. And a duty as deputy of the Stalinist party to turn this revolt to better means of communism... I will inform the Princess of my intention immediately."

<========>

Lightning flashed and waves grew tall as the Thunderbird Bomber flew over the sea. A distant metal glint revealed the lighthouse.

Several bombs were dropped into the water around it. With a massive gasp, the water splashed up and ripped the Scolopendran machinery into the ocean, destroying it. The bomber then turned and flew to the south east, back towards the Windward Isles.

tag

Stonozka

"Well, TYCS Voyeur sats confirm: Lighthouse One destroyed by Roanian action." Garbo shrugs.

Razak mirrors the movement. "Well, that's why we've had Lighthouse Two in storage for months. I'm just surprised they let it lie for a year." The silver-haired man shrugs again. "I'll just go tell Hawke to ask about it."

Transmitted to the Roanian Government

We are moderately annoyed that our navigation and education radio tower in international waters off your coast was needlessly destroyed. Still, there's no point to let this overly embitter our relations. We will replace it to continue the Lighthouse service to travellers on the Menelmacari trade routes, and only bill you $5000 to replace equipment destroyed by what must have been an accidental release.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/lance_hawke.gifAdvisor Lance Hawke
Foot-to-Ass (formerly Defense) Section
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

Seventy-five kilometers off of the northern Roanian coast
A week later

A Loki dropship painted in Civilian Defense Corps livery drops another patched-together station, identical in design to the previous. Deploying just as the first did, the glow-in-the-dark pastel green tower extends into the sky as the Loki pulls away.

"This is Victor Layton broadcasting from Lighthouse Two, replacing our first tower lost in an unfortunate accident. We apologize for the loss of service, but hopefully the week we have spent improving our programming will make up for it. We will return to our regularly scheduled programming with this example of Taoist literature..."

OOC: My IC reaction depends on Scolo's area on Earth... what is your geographical location?

(OOC: Um... ah... not there. *points up* Titan, where it's been for a good year-plus now.)

"We demand to know what interest Scolopendra could possibly have in that area of the Earth, when the only trade that could happen would be between Russia and Menelmacar, and there is no trade. We also politely request that they present an explanation of why Scolopendran satellites are monitoring us?"

OOC: In case you missed it, the conquest of Altara city was the go-ahead, commies.

"Interesting...."

The comment of the leader of New Proletarianism, Citizen Manfred as he went over his Revolutionary Intelligence Reports.

"Orders? Honoured Citizen?"

The officer snapped his heels at attention, awaiting the commands his leader would give.

Citizen Manfred played the situation over and over in his mind. His predecessor; Citizen Malos who was leader of the much larger Proletarian Revolution had always used force to secure the revolution in other countries. New Proletarianism, a variant of Proletarianism had advocated peace and coexistence with alternative governments in the hope of changing them through politics, economics and diplomacy. However, the situation in Roania left him in grave doubt. Should he support the Socialist Rebels in their cause; put all his political, diplomatic and military support into the Roanian Revolution. Or should he let the Roanian government crush the rebellion.

"My dear Officer. Here are your orders. Notify our revolutionary agents in Roania, we should have some still alive. Tell them to notify the rebels of our support. Have them distribute flyers, have them canvass the local population, have them graffiti the walls of the city. Be active until we can find a way to supply arms to the rebels. Be careful, your predecessor did not survive such a trip during our attempt to destabilize Isla de Penguinata and I ask that you watch your back. Good Luck!"

He handed the Officer a sheet of paper. On this sheet was an example of a flyer.

Communism is an unworkable system. Proletarianism seeks the emancipation of the working class through prosperity rather than through arms and revolutions. We seek peace and coexistance rather than war and death.

Citizens of the Proletariat all vote for the government, a compulsory system to accurately approximate the will of the people. They also vote on the most important issues.

Citizens of the Proletariat may own factories as a normal capitalist would. Remaining profit; after a tax deduction and expenses, is divided equally amongst the workers. The owners benefit would be a title, 'Honoured Citizen' which all the other citizens must respect and show courtesy to. Class differences are removed by the absence of a wage difference. The only difference would be that they would have gained honour, prestige and respect.

Economically, we see the system as viable. The whole of society will be consumers, buying the products of the other factories and guaranteeing that their is always a supply. Competition is regulated however by the government to avoid destroying businesses through out-competitiveness.
The unemployed get a wage, but that is enough to sustain them until they get a job.
The lazy and unproductive, designated by the local efficiency supervisor have their share of the profit; their wage cut accordingly.
The unfortunate disabled are given an average societal wage.

Healthcare and education are to be funded by the government and are to be given priority in the new order. The military are also funded by the government.
All government employees who perform well are given their titles.

We believe that once we can move the system to a state of prosperous economic production; we can begin exporting our ideas into the world through peaceful diplomatic, political and social means rather than through the imperialist and greedy methods of Capitalist and Communist nations. Both sides are regarded with suspicion but we still treat them with respect.

OOC: NP, that's... um... Engelism, isn't it? Something like that. And someone contact Edolia!

OOC: NP, that's... um... Engelism, isn't it? Something like that. And someone contact Edolia!

OOC: Is it? Oh well, I just made all that garbage up as a variant of Marxism.....

<<OOC: Somehow I didn't read the last post on the first page and didn't see the conquest of Altaran... My bad, comrades.>>

There was great cheering and celebration in the Imperial Palace. The news had just come in that the city of Altaran had been captured and Roania's socialist rebels were making great strides towards freeing the oppressed people of Roania.
"But they cannot do it without help!" proclaimed the Imperator. "The soon-to-be-free people of Roania cry out for assistance. They cry out for the help of the world. We know of none but Edolia willing to help them. But Edolia is a force to be reckoned with, comrades!" The words were cheered by the assembled ministerial staff. "The time has come for Roania to feel the might of the proleteriat! It is time for the Roanians to feel the sweet breeze of freedom!"

---

Within the underground bowels People's Intelligence Agency Headquarters...
The team had been working all day; monitoring the amount of traffic going out on various frequencies by the Roanians and rebels. The purpose was to determine how best to contact the Altaran revolutionaries without alerting the Roanians to Edolia's plans. The message would have to be short and sweet, getting right to the point. If not, the Roanians would be able to intercept the message.
"We want to make sure that it is directed at Altara as well. Perhaps a communcations satellite?"
"That makes sense. We'll also want to try to disguise it. At first glance it should just be some little bit of insignificant data from a random satellite to Altara. That will be more difficult. The Roanians are most likely going to be monitoring the traffic quite thoroughly."
"Indeed. However, it's worth a shot."

---

"Comrades. We are at your service. How may Edolia assist your people?"

OOC: Humm, Bolshevism or Roanism. I'm not sure which is worse in my IC opinion, but I suspect that it's Roanism. Lets see if we can't think up some way to encourage these rebels... :)

So, the area in question is near Menelmacar. I'm sure I can excuse something based on that...

"We demand to know what interest Scolopendra could possibly have in that area of the Earth, when the only trade that could happen would be between Russia and Menelmacar, and there is no trade. We also politely request that they present an explanation of why Scolopendran satellites are monitoring us?"
Eh, we have sats everywhere, especially where we set up remote installations for some very, very loose definition of SITSEC. As for our interest, that's why the transmitter is powerful enough--it's not really aimed at tramp steamers so much as people using polar insertion overflights. 'Sides, there are some Scolopendran independent traders that run that route. As Menelmacar is an ally and Russia hasn't complained, I'm not really seeing a problem.

Finally... interest. We're not really 'interested' in that area of the Earth; we just saw a niche and filled it. The northern haul is boring and lacking in navigational landmarks. We decided to step in and fix both problems with a very small investment in funding and spare parts.

A very small investment which is now spread over several kilometers of ocean bottom. An unfortunate accident, to be sure, but not one that should present a dire detriment to international relations.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/lance_hawke.gifAdvisor Lance Hawke
Foot-to-Ass (formerly Defense) Section
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

((Assuming you don’t OOC mind third party involvement now Roania.))

In the chambers of the Senatorial Permanent Committee for Legislation and Management, Sntr. Lady Laudrina Frost leaned back on her couch. She sighed a little and listened to the gentle drift of topics.

Most senators had an implant that usurped the need for sleep, and Lady Frost was no different, however, this didn’t mean that it didn’t feel good. The Senatorial Permanent Committee for Legislation and Management met almost twenty hours per day most says, and as the joint president of the senate, she had to attend no less than ten of these hours, her partner covered the other ten. Fortunately the Senatorial Permanent Committee for Legislation and Management room here on Duat was comfortable, a credit to the architect. The entire place was scattered with couches and even beds, numerous tables and a fully fitted kitchen and dining area.

When one had to spend so long constantly making decisions at this level, these amenities were quite necessary.

The Senatorial Permanent Committee for Legislation and Management effectively ran the empire; it approved the laws and dictated the policies, and was answerable only to the Emperor – who had the wisdom to generally leave them to get on with it – and his minions – who followed his lead in the matter.

The foreign minister – Sntr. John Adams – was talking over a large mug of coffee; “So there appears to be some unrest in Roania–“
“Ew, Roania…” exclaimed Laudrina, suppressing a little shudder at the mental image that came unbidden of hordes of religious fundies frothing at the mouth with chemical weapons and insane zeal.
“Yeah, them,” he said, “and I was wondering if we couldn’t help the Bolsheviks…”
“Ew, Bolshevism,” she said, jokingly, imitating her previous pose.
“Quite, bear with me on the matter though, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I just want to shake them up a bit, drop a thousand fairly standard guerrilla packs into the area, few lasguns, pistols, a few heavy weapons, some nice monomol wire traps, IR sink-camouflage mesh, mines, comms, some grenades and a half decent scanner, that sort of thing, I reckon we can budget it for maybe six million credits all in all, we’ve got all that stuff stored for extra civil defence, so the costs should be minimal.”

“Which is good,” said the Economic minister, a tall dark haired elf called Helkafëa, literally 'ice-cold spirit,' which about described his legendary tightfistedness, “Because right now, with this move, the economy is up a certain creek, without a certain instrument.”

“Quite, we just need to borrow a ship to arrange for the devilry… er… delivery,” he was interrupted by laughter from the others, “and we’ve potentially put armaments for twenty thousand rebels into the field, just about enough to piss the Roanians off I think. If you want, I’m sure we can all fork out some savings for the costs.”

There were various nods, and Helkafëa smiled – a rare sight.