NationStates Jolt Archive

Somewhere near Santa Barbara

The dropship accelerated, speeding only meters above the sea-level. It seemed, thought Ooloorie Pck’week, that it was nearly touching the surface. It wasn’t true – but at this speed, few could tell.

‘Hey, pilot!’ – screamed the Special Ambassador, his voice barely audible over the howl of the engines and the high-pitched shriek of the wind. – ‘Why so low?”

The pilot shrugged: “Avoiding their radar, Big Lizard. There is the chance they take us for hostiles, you know”

‘Oh, dammit’, cursed the Valaquine. ‘I hate this nonsense. We’re coming to help those people, and they are shooting at us.’

His aide chuckled: ‘You just defined Allanean history, Big Lizard. Anyway, we have fifty miles left to their national waters, closing fast. Brace yourself, boys.’

Over the black body of the craft, three letters were painted: U.S.A., United States Of Allanea. Below, in small letters, it said:

Diplomatic Mission

The Valaquine dropship was spotted by several sources early on the approach. The ITDO-OOTG satellites above. ITDO-GADTG observation posts on the islands and in the air. ITDO-NOTG sea-based reconnaissance.

It was met with an automated response.

"Turn away! Incoming transport, you are in danger of violating national quarrantine. This cannot be allowed and you will be fired upon. Turn away!..."

[ooc: sorry it took so long]

"Proceed into dodge routine!"

The dropship accelerated, moving towards the shore in an uneven, jumpy patern to make targeting as hard as possible. From the vessel, the return transmission came.

"This is an Allanea diplomatic craft. We mean you no harm. Do not shoot."

The four Bullwhip fighters became detectable not too long after tracking and tailing the incoming dropship.

"Allanean Diplomatic craft," came their transmission, "You are to follow the transmitted flight plan to the letter. Deviation will not be tolerated."

With that, the laconic Santa Barbarans sent a simple flight plan directing the Allaneans to land at particular airfield on an island off the east coast of Santa Barbara.

The fighters did not back off, but since they could have fired and hadn't already, it was clear they were now shepherds as well as guard dogs.

“Jeez,” said the Ambassador, “those guys sure are suspicious. Go for it, Joe.”

The pilot smiled as his expert fingers wrapped themselves about a long handle on the craft’s control console, and pulled it back. Long tongues of green flame burst out of the rear area of the craft, and the dropship began accelerating towards it’s new destination.