NationStates Jolt Archive

The dawn sun broke through the fleeing clouds, casting the entire bay in golden light. The Navarre Basin was one of the busiest waterways in the world, massive bulking container ships and tankers cruised alongside sleek warships, vying for space in the restricted sea lanes. Millions of tons of steel in various guises moved from one point to another, cargos of luxuries, peoples, minerals, enough raw materials to feed and support an entire nation was carried in ships the size of townships.

Sitting in between two mountain ranges, the entire basin was the size of Holland. Surrounded on three sides by the city of Navarre, the massive bay entered the equatorial Atlantic to the Northwest whilst at the other end laid the deep valleys of the Whitestone River and its various feeders as it cut its way through the mountains to enter into the basin. In proximity to the river’s mouth, the gargantuan locks of the Grand Shipping Canal, a half-mile wide seaway cut straight through 400 miles of harsh desert to the Southern Sea, sat dormant, whilst adjacent docks and slipways heralded the Navarre Naval Shipyards, massive gantries and cranes towering above the nearby skyscrapers.

However, all were eclipsed by the sight of the Navarre Naval Base, the supreme example of Freethinker super-engineering. A massive circular structure two miles out into the bay, the entire facility was five full kilometres from one side to the other, its entire circumference littered with docks of various shapes and sizes, enough facilities to dock literally hundred of warships simultaneously. Aside from being the HQ of the Freethinker Navy, the facility also housed, for public display, the Navarre Maritime Museum.

Today it was going to get a new exhibit.

Sitting out in the middle of the basin sat no less than seventeen huge, bulky forms, massive grey whales that sat motionless under the harsh sun of the Mainland. The white insignia had long been removed to leave but faded outlines of the figures, rust followed the cracks in the paintwork and the massive machinery of war sat cold and unused. Although dwarfed by many of the large super-haulers that sailed nearby, these ships were still impressive. Once the most powerful vessels on the face of the Earth, they still remained even now the pride of so many navies.

Seventeen Doujins sat in reserve on the Eastern side of the bay. Rescued from the chaos of the fall of Doujin’s government, the ships were now under the authority of the Organisation of Maritime Powers. They sat silent, occasionally repaired but nonetheless unused until the bureaucracy surrounding their fate was sorted through. Funds poured into Navy coffers to keep them alive, their pulses beating, but their future fate remained unknown.

One of these sleeping giants, however, was now no longer to be kept ready for war. The original DN Doujin herself, battered by the elements but none the less as majestic as the day she was launched, had had her fate decided. No longer was she to sail the battle line. The veteran of many wars and one of the greatest ships of the age, she was now to return home, finally a rest, to become a monument to the both the Organisation signed into existence on her very decks and to the breed of warships to which she belonged. Even those who did not believe in the principle could still not deny her magnificence, her elegant form setting the standard for the hordes of her kin that followed.

Now her time had come. Over the last few months fitters and engineers had been shuttled to and fro, equipment removed and replaced with mock-ups for camera wielding tourists. The paintwork restored, the massive guns deactivated but cleaned up for display, and step by step she turned from war machine to memorial. In a private ceremony conducted a few nights before this day, she had been officially inaugurated as the FNS Doujin, although the original nameplates were retained. She was officially signed in as a floating memorial in the Freethinker Naval Registrar, now; she was ready for her last voyage.

Surrounded by hundreds of craft, photographer’s flashes appearing in the dawn light as the ship was moved from her floating berth. Her engines and reactors had been cold for too long, and it was under the power of three huge tugs, each the size of a carrier, that she moved gently across the calm water towards her final resting place. Moving slowly as to ensure the wake did not capsize the attendant flotilla. She was laid by the Destroyer Centaur, the original ship that had led her from the dry-dock where she had been built, and was now leading her back from service in tribute.

As the morning sun moved high into the sky, so the Doujin herself finally came alongside her new home. The pride of place in the Maritime Museum’s charges, she was now docking for the last time. With a dull thud and momentary grind as the bulk of her was brought to a stop against the side of the floating facility, she finally came home. Less than two miles from the huge dry-dock where she was built, her massive form towered above the waiting crowds on the museum’s quaysides, expectant watchers and dignitaries waiting patiently as the ship was moored and tethered. Thick ropes with the diameters of tree trunks were hoisted between the ship and side, and soon enough the vessel was secure. Gantries and walkways were soon set down and fixed up, and the lady was ready to be boarded.

Aside from the press party, however, the huge behemoth had been reserved for one last official function. On the very deck where the treaty establishing the Organisation of Maritime Powers had been signed, a gathering was being held between representatives of the various nations. Several of them had been here so many years before, when the Doujin had sailed for the first time sliding along the channel to sail into history.

******

Soon enough, the guests had gathered. After a brief tour and quick photo opportunities for the gathered press, the various dignitaries had assembled on the forward deck. Shadowed by the huge forward guns from the blazing sun, idle chatter soon took over the conversation.




OOC: Only OMP members may actually participate in the RP, but anyone can make a comment from their government or whoever. Please keep OOC comments to a minimum please.

#TAG# (Note, I am an OMP member, I just never registered on the new forums after the old ones and Doujin disappeared)

OOC: Amazing writing. It brings a tear to my eye. A sad end for 16 great ships. I'll ICly pledge more money to maintain them when my delegation comes to the opening of the exhibit if you want.

OOC: Amazing writing. It brings a tear to my eye. A sad end for 16 great ships. I'll ICly pledge more money to maintain them when my delegation comes to the opening of the exhibit if you want.

OOC: Well, the ships are still in nominal reserve, and funding is already being drawn from the OMP and our own coffers. We do need to decide what to do with them.

The IDF delegation arrived on a chartered El Al airlines registered Boeing 747-200. The long flight tired them all, especially Grand Admiral Joseph Jacobson, the Commander-in-Chief of the IDF Navy. He was excited about seeing the storied DN Doujin, one of the few ships even greater than his own flagship.

He had been a young Lieutenant Commander when he first heard about the Doujin's construction. He was now eagerly awaiting the opportunity, but he first had to make a trip to the embassy and meet to the IDF Naval Attaché stationed in Freethinkers. It was The Admiral's first visit to this great naval nation, despite the fact that IDF was tied to this ally by two separate alliances.

Jacobson was not alone, Commander Hyman G. Rickover III of the Israeli Silent Service was among the 7 officers accompanying the Admiral on this trip. He was by far the lowest ranking of the officers in attendance from IDF, but with his temporary duty as the Admiral's deputy Chief of Staff, he had to go despite his distaste for any surface ships.

As eager as Adm. Jacobson was, he wasn't the most eager of the officers coming to the event. Admiral Mark Shram, the CO of one of IDF's 4 active super-dreadnoughts, the ISS Frank Thomas, was happy to be here and see this even greater warship. He was looking forward to chatting to some of CO's of these mighty ships so they could exchange tactics, ideas, and of course jokes.

After a 3 hour stay at the embassy, a line of 3 limos took the Navy officers to the docks where the mighty DN Doujin awaited. It was a 40 minute drive through heavy traffic. When Admiral Jacobson got out of his car, he was met by a Naval officer from Freethinkers who saluted him. Jacobson saluted back as was the usual protocol. He and his entourage were escorted to where the rest of the OMP naval officers were being taken. He couldn't wait to actually get aboard this mighty beast.

The young lieutenent saluted with enthusiasm as he greeted the Admiral and his entourage. Clad in a crisp dark blue uniform with a small collection of medals and a polished sabre hanging by his side, he seemed to display as much of the discipline and proffessionalism that the Freethinker Navy was famous for.

After the accepted greetings, the Grand Admiral and Staff were taken aboard the base monorail than ran between the offshore circle and the shoreside facility where the IDF delegation had arrived. Coasting down the track, the monorail went subterrainean as it moved under the floor of the bay before returning to the surface in a graceful spiral in the centre of the offshore Circle.

Stopping at the station for the museum the delegation was lead off with utmost courtesy from the platform, through two sets of thick blast doors and then out onto the 'quayside' where the Doujin now lay silent. Walking along a roped off pad that led up a walkway, the delegation was led onto the forward deck where the other representatives were already chatting away. Friendly smiles and handshakes greeted the new arrivals.

High Rain Admiral Eskan, the ranking officer of the entire Lindimese Navy, stepped out onto the deck of the great ship, and immediately was aware of his country's fate. To walk in the shadows of giants. The greatest dreadnaughts and battleships of the Islands had no comparison to these beasts, blurring the line between a machine of death and death itself. Even now, in a retired state, the ship seemed to radiate a sheer awesomeness from the metal of the hull. Beside him, his aide pulled out a Palm and began tapping and scribbling away on the thing, seemingly oblivious to the naval might and genius she was blessed enough to see. What we get for taking up civilians as temps.

Eskan quickly looked around and spotted the IDF admiral smiling and shaking hands on the other side of the shp. Bless the Sea, a man I can talk to before that damnable corporate fool comes-

Suddenly, behind him he felt a tap on the shoulders, and to Eskan the blue skies seemed to darken considerably as a smiling corporate suit patted him on the back and ruffled up his new dress uniform. "Hey there," the aWen Liason said, grinning like a fool at the ship he stood on, probably only thinking of money. "This is impressive, huh? Quite a ship he is?"

Eskan gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yes, that it is. Now'll, if you'll excuse me..." and with that Eskan left the liason quickly and walked over to the IDF admiral, a sincere and relieved smile on his face. He bowed in the Lindimese fashion and extended his hand. "Glad to have finally met you, grand admiral. I've heard quite alot about you..."

And as Eskan talked, the aide turned to the corporate suit and smiled a wide grin, her green eyes laughing silently. "Smooth, real smooth."

The aWen man shurgged and his expression was the quiet, observant one he often carried. The aide found that rather interesting, in a man. "You needed a bit of freedom," the liason said, looking about casually. "I just happened to play my part.

The aide nodded and raised an eyebrow at the man, still smiling. She had come here for a reason, and that had meant her disguise as an aide. She was the Linit most knowledgeable in naval matters. "Well, I'll have to extend my thanks later." She looked about for the Pacific Northwestia delegation and sighed when she didn't see them. She would have liked to talk with him.

However, she quickly indentified an lower-down Freethinker official and walked briskly over to him, quickly throwing her brown hair up and putting in a loose ponytail, changing her part accordingly. "Excuse me," she said in the typical slurred Lindimese English, "I'm supposed to deliver a message from my superiors on military purchasing matters, but I have no idea where to go. Can you help me?"

OOC: Uniform for Eskan is a dark green/light green mix and typical Lindimese English is a slurred and fast-paced version of normal American English.

Lieutenent Commander Christopher Barham sat sipping the orange juice in his hand. Although he wanted something stronger, the diplomatic rules forbade it whilst on official duty, leaving the young officer to rue the mundane small talk of the older dignitaries present.

He noticed the young woman approach him, seeming slightly distracted but then looking ahead determinedly at him. He subconciously lay the glass on the table behind him and move forward onto one foot as she approached. He saluted, ensure precisely of who he was talking to, then stopped as she began asking her question.

Barham wasn't sure of the answer at first. Military sales could either mean some of the sales guys from the FDI delegate, some government official on the Arms Export Commitee, or someone on the Defence Procurement staff. He opted for the latter, preffering to deal with his own than some stuck up civvie, and with a glinting smile spoke with a refined English accent as he suggested who to look for.

"Well, Ma'am, I'd recommend Admiral Cunnigham, he is over there by the display cases, here, I will introduce you." And with a sharp step he escorted her to the character in question, a short, well-muscled man with a white sliver of hair who was sharing a joke with a bunch of men in crisp clean suits.

The Linit, Kara, smiled and nodded at the young officer, before turning to the silver-haired admiral and bowing, suddenly felling very strange without her skirt. She really had to request a vacation when she got back, this was just too much. She waited politely until the suited men stopped laughing at the apparently extremely jovial man before speaking.

"Hello sir, it's a pleasure to meet you on such a fine day. It fits the boat, perhaps, though I wouldn't know," she said carefully, separating her words precisely. "I was told you were the man to speak to about certain military purchases of a unique size." Her eyes, just for a moment but long enough for the man to notice, quickly flickered from meeting his eyes to the ship she stood on. But it was a brief occurence, and she was smiling politely at him as if she had said nothing else. You're no fool, step away from these men, and let us talk, she thought furiously, attempting to will her latent telepathic powers in action. But, of course, she had none. Sad, I'd use them only for good, she mused with an internal smile.

OOC: Well, very nice post that is. I'm letting my Admiral to arrive by car if you will (see the updated regional map), so hope you wouldn't mind a few escorts. /OOC

"Look, I don't want this to be an embarassment...", Vice Admiral Loran said as he hesitated, "..and neither do you." Giving an authoritative look at the young Captain Benchuk beside him, he pushed himself against the luxurious leather seat in the armoured but simplistic brown Omzian Motorworks automobile, as he looked around the unfamiliar but heart-warming environment. Getting to The Freethinkers is only a few hundreds miles away from his residence, but it seemed nothing less than absurd when Naval Marine armoured vehicles escorted him across the Omzian-Freethinkers border on the icy road.

But that was not all. Furthermore, he was both awed by the Captain's incompetence in presenting himself, yet satisfied by his skills as a young captain on one of the large submerged beasts within the Omzian Navy. Why did they send him? I don't want a incommunicative fool of a tactical genius here, he thought with a conflicted mind, as the driver finally spoke. "Admiral, sir, we are approaching our destination."

"Sir, uh, what did I do wrong?", Captain Benchuk said with effort that is no less than a brainstorm. "Did I mess something up, sir?"

"You need to stop following someone, and start to become an actual leader if you want to come with me. Meet, greet, and talk to people just like how you would in a submarine, and stop this spontaneous grin of yours," the Admiral addressed the inferior-ranked officer as he looked with a sense of thought into the Captain's eyes. It was a wonder that the qualities of Captain Benchuk had allowed him to become a Captain, but the Admiral also showed a sense of respect for the Captain's intelligence and skills. As a Carrier Aviation Lieutenant Second Grade-turned to a Flag Staff Vice Admiral, the Admiral had many conflicts and disagreements, with the Seaman-turned Submarine Captain. "Frankly, stop being a nerd."

The Captain looked at the Admiral's insignia as he was fed - what he considered - insult. But it didn't matter exactly. "Well, sir, I've personally never came here in months, but I personally know a few people when we sketched up that Neptune ballistic missile submarine deal with FDI," he said as he tried to repair his lost face. "I only saw the vessel once actually. It's a great giant, I'll have to admit. To be frank, even I'm awed by the size of the vessel. I've seen other vessels of the similar size, and for that, pretty much the only thing that can stop them is the Devastator Squadron."

The Admiral frowned upon the mention of the forbidden name - known as D.S. A sense of anger rushed to his brain as he noticed that they were approaching civilization once again, after the long travel with mere two armoured personnel carriers. "Captain, get your mouth together."

The Captain instantly remembered as he digged his teeth into his lip, biting it with a sense of embarassment. "Sorry, sir...", he hesitated as he looked.

Pointing towards a distant world ahead of them, he said with a sense of respect and astonishment. "It's the Doujin, sir. That's it."

===================

Lieutenant Commander Noran looked around him as two Petty Officers followed him in the crowd of people, wearing a black winter uniform with two bright gold-coloured rank insignia. He was supposed to meet up with the Admiral and Captain Benchuk, as he smiled at the variety of foreign dignitaries and military officers. Benchuk is a rather mentally strange friend of his, but they had been separated ever since the quick pomotion of Benchuk, and the fact that he was sent to The Freethinkers as one of the Omzian Navy liaisons.

As the Omzian looked across the crowds, he straightened his tie and smiled at the other allied officers as a series of medal ribbons shined on his chest, bringing his past as an Ensign in the Homeland Defence War into the spotlight for anyone who noticed. But it was not long before he noticed someone familiar. The individual's facial figure provoked his mind as he sifted through the list of people. Barham!, he thought as he smiled, glad to meet one of the many Freethinkers officer in this duty as a liaison officer.

Walking over to the officer, he greeted Lieutenant Commander Barham as he smiled. Barham was one of the people he met longer during his duty in the country, before he returned.

"Lieutenant Commander Barham!", he greeted with a slight Omzian-soundalike accent as he smiled. "Certainly a warm sight to see an officer of the same rank. Remember me, I'm Lieutenant Commander Noran from the Omzian Navy, and I believe that we met you during the tour on the destroyer a while ago. A big ship, the dreadnaught, she is."

"She certainly is a fine ship...maybe not as large or imposing as others" the first man, dressed in finely tailored, said as he titled his head back to try to see the Doujin's main guns.

"She's not the toughest or biggest on the water anymore but she certainly does have a certain something about her." the second man, a Royal Navy officer, said as he began to drink a glass of apple juice.

"I'd still rather be on a carrier." the first man said as he vainly attempted to see the entire gun emplacement in a single glance.

The second man finishing his juice and nodded in agreement. "So would I, Phillip, so would I."

With his juice finished, Fleet Admiral Kirkssen scanned the deck for faces he might recognize. Since he rarely left Hamptonshire it was doubtful if anyone he knew would come but still he looked.

Lord Phillip Rosecrans gave up on trying to view the guns from his vantage point. He normally wouldn't have come to such an event, however, he personally requested to come to the ceremony. His years in the Defense Ministry away from the Royal Navy he so loved made him jump on any opportunity he could find to get onboard a warship. This event provided him with such an opportunity as well as a chance to "talk shop" with other senior Naval officers from the OMP.

Lord Rosecrans and Sir Geoff, friends for over twenty-five years, both saw this ceremony as a potentially relaxed and low key way to reinforce the bonds between members of the Organization of Maritime Powers. Both men came ready to forge new relationships. The Fleet Admiral, normally an overly cold and distan figure, was in unusally high spirits. He didn't know if it was from excitement, the chance to see one of history's most notable warships, or simply the promise of fresh sea air after months of being 'locked up' in Hamptonshire City.

Lord Rosecrans started to walk the deck looking for someone to talk to. It didn't really matter who, as long as they looked important. Sir Geoff made his way toward the refreshments area. He was on a mission of upmost importance- Get more apple juice.

OOC: Actually, Omz old boy, this event is taking place in Navarre, in the Freethinker Mainland. The Haven colonies are on the other side of the world to the Mainland, so driving would require crossing most of the Eastern or Western Hemisphere.

------

Cunnigham eyed Kara as she approached. Although she may have not had latent telepathic powers, she was still an attractive young woman and that was enough for Cunnigham's attention at this point. Smiling at the womans comment and making a formal greeting, he shoed away Barham, who had just spotted a familiar face, and decided to see what this girl wanted of him.

------

Barham smiled, pausing for a moment as he tried to put a face to the name. Succeeding, he thought, he grinned slightly, saluting formally but speaking as equals.

"Hey up, Noran old bean" He looked at the overarching forward guns, cased in the recoil dampening housing and glinting in the sun. He nodded in response to Noran's comment about the ship. "She's a bueat, I'm glad to see she was able to retire peacefully." His eyes subconciously moved to a spot on the base of the forward turret, just visible over the rise in the deck. A slightly lighter patch of gray showed the recovery operation where the damage from an Allanean Yakhont had jammed the entire turret by fusing the plating together in the heat of the explosive. It was a remainder, perhaps, of even this boats mortality.

OOC: Hamptonshire, your Sir Geoff is absolutely correct, and knows where life is at! I suddenly want more of him!

IC: Hiri sighed and tugged at his tie as he worked his way around the ship, regretting his decision to go on the trip. Oh sure, the weather was nice and he would get a few weeks of paid vacation afterwards, but dealing with uptight ship-worshipping military men was bad enough without having to working with a Linit. A Linit for God's sake! What what she going to do, go assassinate everyone here with her ninja crap? At least that annoying civil war was over.

Then, Hiri saw the refreshment table, and he was happy. Free food and drinks? Nice! He had to stop himself from running to the table and squeezed in next to a naval officer, Hamptonshire by the looks of the uniform. Hiri turned to the drinks and struggled for a moment between apple juice and orange juice before throwing them together and dashing it with seltzer.

As he gulped his drink down, he wondered briefly if he was supposed to make new contacts for business. No, probably not. They only told me to help Kara get a Doujin. What is the boss gonna do? Declare war on S&y Limited?

And what was all of that hushed discussion of the "organization" he had overheard? It couldn't be the OMP, that was public. What other organization was there? He took another gulp and told himself to stop going paranoid. It was probably another Pacific Trophe Alliance debacle.

OOC: Ah, copy that then. Didn't think the piece of land was actually your colony. However though for now, if other people don't mind I'll take a back seat until the post count of the thread gets up :) /OOC

"That's for sure," he said as he viewed the ship's guns with a smile. "Don't know that you are here, but for me, I guess it's pure luck," he said, enjoying the view of the huge and terrifying beast of a weapon system. "My third time to see this ship close in however," he took a mental note, seeing the ship's age, but also its excellent condition.

====================

"We're here," the Petty Officer announced with a hin of tiredness and fatigue as he stopped near the amazing sight of the huge vessel that they were supposed to visit, looking back with a smile as he prepared the car into the parking position. "Well, we are here, sir. Might as well join your staff."

"Thanks for the ride, sailor," the Admiral said with a smile as his door was then opened by a junior officer of his staff, whom had a faithful grin while hiding the utter excitement of seeing such a vessel. The Admiral himself however, had seen other large vessels, but still not something this extravagant and astonishing. Looking at the Captain who sat beside him all the way, he said with no apparant emotion, raising his eyebrows. "Well, guess that we could enjoy the sight then," a sense of warning then appeared as the Admiral's face sported a slight smile by then. "Talk to people, open yourself up, Captain. But remember the schedule, I don't want an embarassment here. Understand?"

OOC: Had a post, but it disappeared. Oh, well.

IC: Kara nodded in a satisfied manner as she watched the other man drift over to another group of suits and uniforms. She turned back to the short admiral and had to resist from grinning. He looked exactly like Old Man Saer, God of Rivers, and seemed to have the attitude as well. Then Kara had to remind herself to fofucs, and that lead to another train of thought as to her recent lack of discipline. The, hair, it's the hair. Ever since I had to curl it and pretty it for this position, I've gone a bit crazy. I need a vacation.

Sighing with a smile, Kara said, "Quite simply, sir, I've been told to organize a subtle and rather discreet purchase of a Doujin, and I was thrown on this ship with nothing but those orders. And now," she added with a sly grin, "that's left me to you. I have the papers of authority from my Prime Minister, which grants me the capacity to make whateever deals I can for this purchase." She pulled papers out of her pocket which were, of course, utterly forged but completely official, and raised her eyebrow. It would be an interesting convention, this one, even without a pina colada to relax her.

Cunningham looked slightly bemused. Putting down his drink, he raised his left hand to his chin and thought for a moment.

"A discrete purchase?" He muttered, his eyes looking onto Kara's for a moment. "Well, I didn't expect that, what was you thinking precisely? We do have the extras floating in the bay gathering dust, although to have one of them wouldn't be too discrete."

He took the papers in hand, quickly glancing down them. He huffed, then passed them back, lingering in his hold for a moment as if distracted in thought, then looked up at Kara again.

"Of course, a new one, well, those things take thirty years to build, so, its up to you."

-----

Barham smiled. "Yeah, I remember growing up, watching the completed ones move down the bay when they left the yards." He pointed across the water at pair of huge lock doors, barely visible around the circular structure of the Naval Base itself. "No.2 Drydock, this baby's birthplace."

OOC: Really nice posts. Sorry I didn't notice this until now.

IC:
High Admiral Michaels, de facto commander of the entire Pacific Northwesterian Navy, strode onto the deck of the FNS Doujin], formerly the DN Doujin. He couldn't help the chills running up and down his spine. His own flagship, a venerable Thunder Child Class that led the Pacific Northwesteria First Defense Fleet, was nothing compared to this monster. His government had decided that a ship like this was not cost-effective, and he knew that they were right. But this ship was just so cool. He shook himself, reminded himself that he was here on official business of PN, something about an important meeting. So far it all just looked like glitz and glam, but he quickly sought out some of his fellow Admirals. He mingled through the crowd, chatting with various dignitaries, waiting for something interesting to happen. And oh, would something interesting happen.

And oh, would something interesting happen.

OOC: See? This is where I get nervous, when you start implying such things.

Captain Zahir Hatim, thirty-three years young, donning a black ceremonial uniform covered in ribbons, badges and glinting medals, felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he paced over the decks of the FSN Doujin. An eleven flight hadn't tired his physique at all and overly exicted he popped up nearly everywhere, chattering around with foreign Naval officers, civilian dignitaries and other delegates.

His superior, Admiral Khalil Javed, gave him a friendly nod and smiled widely, the stretched scar tissue, lining his forehead, pulling together. Khalil tipped his hat with a firm salute as he turned towards the first battery of 30" ETC guns, poking out skywards over the mass. Though not as graceful as his own flagship, the Jewel of the East, a 120,000 tons Cetus Class battleship, Khalil remembered his tour of duty in an officer exchange program, aboard the Doujin, as a young Lieutenant, quite well. A gruelling six month chain of sea trials, emergency drills and live fire exercises, but it had all been worth it, as a keen memory that would last a life time. He tinkered a few glimmering medals straight and set out for the refreshments table, ready to snatch a few beverages.

[OOC: Mature language warning]

Grumbling the entire way as her jet took off from Woodstock International Jetport under a heavy military escort, Vice President for Naval Operations Kathy Bunhall set off for Navarre in the great Commonwealth of the Freethinkers. Sitting next to her was a man whose presence in the Navy Department made all the difference in establishing it as the most respected military branch Sarzonia had.

Josiah Humphreys, who was promoted to Chief of Vessel Design Integration when Bunhall was elevated to Vice President following the Navy's own ascention to cabinet status, was poring over his notes. He was instrumental in ensuring that the ships Sarzonia once purchased from its allies would integrate with one another and later, with ships built by the Portland Iron Works. He wished retired Commodore Barbara Tucker could have also been in attendance, as her company's rapid growth helped earn Sarzonia a place among the world's premier sea powers. Unfortunately, she unlike Bunhall would not screw her courage to the sticking point enough to overcome her fear of flying.

Anyway, the two most influential people in Sarzonian maritime tradition would make their way to Freethinkers where they had much business to discuss. Humphreys was poring over his notes regarding the information he needed for the conference, while Bunhall was complaining about the turbulence of the flight. She also worried out loud that a Generian or Roach-Busterian jet squadron would intercept their convoy and prevent Sarzonian participation in the conference.

I wish the bitch would just shut the fuck up, Humphries seethed to himself. Just as he was about to open his mouth to let his boss have it, the pilot's voice interrupted his thoughts and Bunhall's tirade.

"Control tower, Navarre Aeroport, this is Sarzonia Six. Request permission to land, over."

About Goddamn time, both naval officials thought, though each for vastly different reasons. Their revels were about to begin.

Lord Rosecrans slowly paced the deck as Admiral Kirkssen tried to strike up a conversation with the Lindim officer who joined him at the refreshments table. Lord Rosecrans quietly made his way to the railing. He began to remember some of the more exciting points of his long and illustrious naval carrier- standing on the deck of the HNS Pernicious as she launched all her jets to bomb Paradise City, looking out over the battleship Shilo as her main guns thundered, and other such scenes. He didn't much care for the Doujin herself but he knew that she was a powerful symbol of naval warfare in the modern age.

Kara smiled. "Thirty years? I would be retiring by then, and that wouldn't be too discreet. No, admiral, these ships are not meant to be discreet. Part of their power comes from their psychological effect, as I am sure you no." Kara paused to clear her throat and wish she had gotten a drink. "What would be discreet would be the location of the ship's delivery and the money that purchased them."

Meanwhile, Hiri was having a delightful time talking and drinking and eating to his heart's content.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Fleet Admiral Kirkssen of the Hamptonian Royal Navy." the Admiral said as he extended his hand out for a handshake to Hiri. "Usually I detest gatherings like this but it's been months since I've been out on a ship of any notable size and Lord Rosecrans asked me to come with him."

Kirkssen picked up his glass of juice and turned around facing the sea. "What brings you here about the Doujin?"

Bunhall and Humphreys finally found themselves on the deck of the Doujin after a traffic jam that seemed to take forever to resolve. The extra time spent trying to get to their destination seemed to serve as a trial to figure out whether or not the two would strangle each other before they arrived.

Now that they were here, they walked around in awe of a ship that was truly historic. It was the first of its kind. It was as genre-defining a ship as there ever was.

"You are looking at the ship that is the true successor to the HMS Dreadnought, Humphreys said. Now that they had arrived where they needed to be, Bunhall's mood was lightened.

"Yes indeed. We've got people to meet and things to do here."

Admiral Jacobson had spent the past few hours speaking to various Admirals. He was looking forward to meeting with the delegation from Hamptonshire, but he hadn't had a chance to meet with them yet. There was still time for that though.

Jacobson wanted to personally meet with the Admirals from Freethinkers. He had just recently taken delivery on Sabre class DDG's from Freethinkers. He wanted to tour this ship and then possibly make an order if everything checked out. He didn't know how he'd pop that question to the Freethinker Admirals. He was chuckling to himself as he thought of funny ways to do so, but he then stopped himself and regained his composure. This was serious and he had to do so delicately as 1 of the Guillens lay crippled in the Gulf of Aqaba. The great ISS MAGGLIO ORDONEZ had taken too many hits during Operation Brimstone and while she could be repaired, it wasn't cost effective. Another of the Guillens was going to be decommissioned in 25 years and a replacement had to come eventually. Perhaps 2 of these Doujins would work well with the IDF Navy. He hoped he could see one of these as his personal flagship. She was far superior to his own flagship anyways.

He looked over and saw Admiral Kirkssen busily talking away with someone else. Across the room, Commander Rickover was busy talking to people about how dumb the idea behind the super-dreadnought was. Everyone, including Jacobson, on the IDF delegation was in disagreement with his philosophy here, but hey Rickover was a submariner and therefore legally insane Jacobson joked to himself. Jacobson understood a submariner looked at a ship like this that Jacobson himself thought as a great accomplishipment, but the submariner saw the same ship as a great target.

Hiri shrugged his shoulders, and wished he could tell the truth. "I studied naval design for years, and I was sent out here 'cause they had nothing better to do with me. Nothing unusual at all." Goddamnitall, when will that Linit finish? "How about you?" he asked casually, pouring himsefl another drink and squinting at the sun.

The Praetonian delegation that strolled across the deck of the FNS Doujin included Grand Admiral Iussis Quelius, commander of the PWS Imperium, the Freedom Class dreadnaught that headed the Grand Fleet, along with two of his staff officers. All three men were resplendant in full dress uniform, complete with polished sabres.

"A beautiful sight, eh?" snorted Quelius in his usual pompous manner, "just to think that these behemoths are in dry dock and rusting whilst His Imperial Majesty's Superdreadnaughts are on active duty - sailing the high seas like what they was meant to do! Dont you think so..." his voice tailed off as he noticed the other two had disappeared to inspect the guns and gargantuan turret that housed them.

"The bloody Hamptonians are here," whispered one of the men, a Commodore Flavus Turpilius, to the other, who was looking up at the turret in awe. He has never set foot aboard a superdreadnaught before, Praetonian or foreign.

"Damnit! You ruined the moment, old boy. How I wish they would just leave the OMP... they think they bloody own the place!" He responded, outraged. Patriotic tempers had been running high on both sides before diplomatic relations were thankfully cut off, "Of course they dont..." he continued. Turpilius sighed. This could last a long time.

Secretly, Quelius thought that Praetonia ought to own a Doujin. Maybe even replace the Freedoms with them if possible, but he, as well as the Praetonian government, was too proud for that. Everything Praetonia used in her armed forces was built in Praetonia. That was how it had always been, and it looked set to remain, 'Perhaps we should be the ones to attempt something bigger and better,' he thought to himself, 'Perhaps...'

Hiri shrugged his shoulders, and wished he could tell the truth. "I studied naval design for years, and I was sent out here 'cause they had nothing better to do with me. Nothing unusual at all." Goddamnitall, when will that Linit finish? "How about you?" he asked casually, pouring himsefl another drink and squinting at the sun.

"I'm here because the Grand Duke thought it proper to send the top man in the Royal Navy to his function. You never quite know what can happen at times like this.

I also wanted to get away from all the paperwork and bureaucrats of the Capitals." he paused to drink from his glass. "Phillip, he said pointing to the Defense Minister, "also wanted me to come with him."


With a deep breath of salt air filling his lungs, Lord Rosecrans left the railings and walked back to the main area where most of the dignitaries were assembling. Now it's time to put on the good face and talk to the old salties he said under his breath as he looked around for someone to talk to.

I don't want to jump in with Kirkssen...don't feel like talking to our Freethinkers hosts yet... he continued scanning the deck for someone. An Admiral caught his eye. He casually made his way over to the man.

"Admiral Jacobson, I believe, he said as he approached the man, "it's a privilege to meet you. You probably don't know me, I'm Defense Minister Lord Rosecrans. Unfortunately for some reason despite our two nations rather close relations, there hasn't been very much high level face-to-face contact between us."

Kara smiled. "Thirty years? I would be retiring by then, and that wouldn't be too discreet. No, admiral, these ships are not meant to be discreet. Part of their power comes from their psychological effect, as I am sure you no." Kara paused to clear her throat and wish she had gotten a drink. "What would be discreet would be the location of the ship's delivery and the money that purchased them."


"Well," Cunningham picked up his drink again. "To be fair those are the only two options. But to be able to actually buy up one of the unused ones sitting out to sea you would need more than my authority alone. But...." He leaned abit closer, taking in a long breathe and looking around quietly before continuing. "With a few projects of our own coming online soon, we may no have no further need for our remaining two ships."

Admiral Jacobson saw the Hamptonshire Defense Minister approach. He saluted the man as he approached. IDF had a slightly different etiquette than other nations where Flag Officers saluted officials of Ministerial rank or higher.

Jacobson let the Minister begin the conversation before speaking up. “It's an honor to meet you Sir,” said the highest ranking Admiral of the IDF Navy. “I agree it is a shame that we haven't met yet. I've heard much about you Sir. I am quite impressed by your career and have wanted to meet you for some time. We have much to talk about." The Admiral wanted to know one thing that this Minister thought. "What do you think about this great ship?" asked Jacobson.

Lord Rosecrans polietly answerd Jacobson's salute. "Please Admiral, call me Phillip. I didn't come four thousand miles to rigidly stand on protocol. Besides, as I see it we are about as close as it comes to equals."

He lifted his head yet again to glimpse at the Doujin's main guns. "The ship itself is...fine. Hamptonshire has never really had a preoccupation with so called 'superdreadnaughts'. When I as Chief of Staff I made sure our resources were put into supercarrier, escort, and long range weapon programs.

The Doujin and ships like her are not as much weapons of war as weapons of terror. While there is something, of course, to be said of the achievement of designing and constructing ships like the Doujin, such ships are but a single piece in the puzzle that is naval warfare."

Lord Rosecrans then leaned in close so as not to let anyone else hear, "Our Knight Templar Project, though delayed by fifteen years, is in my opinion more impressive. While not a superdreadnaught, it is the ultimate evolution of Hamptonian naval strategy."

“OK Phillip,” began Jacobson as he began to smile. “You can call me Jacob. Or you can call me by my nickname, Badger. I had that one stuck on me by my first CO when I was flying F-4s off of Constellation and damn I nearly had a mid-air with one of the damned things. I didn't do well on that cruise so I got out of flying to take up surface warfare. Best move I ever made experience in two areas made me popular on the promotion boards”

The Admiral then chuckled as he thought back to the time he was a young J.G. “I'll agree with you that these dreadnoughts. They are better and scaring the enemy than they are actually effective.”

“I do love the dreadnoughts for that reason though,” confinued the Admiral. I have 4 smaller super-dreadnoughts under my command. One of them flies my personal flag. While the guns may not get in positions to fire quickly, they do their job when they fire. She did well during the Psov war. One of my flag ship's sisters took some hits, but she survived them well. My ship claimed 3 kills in 1 engagement. I owe that to using UAVs for long range targeting. Seeing how you are an ally, I recommend it for any battleship you use since it will greatly improve your ship's effectiveness. These are still best for shore bombardments. During the HLF campaign these guns were the best friends of the Marines we had to back up.”

“Can you tell me about what your new project is?” asked the Admiral. “We've been working on many innovations lately. We've worked on more stealthy ships, laser anti-missile systems, and semi-automatic cruiser guns. That final project is the only one not currently in use yet. We are building a whole new cruiser class to support the system. I've seen some of the reports on the evaluation of the guns and they are amazing. We think we can get each 10” gun to fire 25-35 times a minute. Imagine those guns vs. an infantry division on a beach. They'd be dead in minutes. I apologize if I am talking so much Phillip, but I'm very excited about the new guns.”

Admiral Michaels had quickly taken in the sights and sounds of the gathering on the main deck, and decided where the talk would be most interesting. A surprisingly young woman, far too young to be an Admiral, was talking in hushed voices with what appeared to be a civvie. Most likely a big-wig contractor. What could they be up to? He sidled over, and introduced himself.
"sorry if I am interrupting, but I am High Admiral Adrian Michaels of the Pacific Northwesterian First Home Defense Fleet. You are?"

ooc: Sarzonia, nice Macbeth reference :) ... "but screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail"...(or something like that)

Admiral Michaels stared in disbelief, as the two people he approached continued their conversation, apparently without noticing him at all.
"Hello?" he repeated.

Kara resisted the urge to sigh and turned around at the man behind her. I swear, if I can't- a Pacifican? "Umm, yes?" she said as lightly as possible. "Can I help you?" He wouldn't recognize a Linit, would he? No, he's never seen me...

High Admiral Adrian Michaels lowered his voice, speaking to the woman who had finally acknowledged his presence.
"I couldn't help but notice from across the deck that you two are engaged in what appears to be a secretive discussion. There were... hints in the summons that some secret dealings would be going on here. I'm just checking to see if this is it.
"Oh, and ma'am, I noticed you came onboard with the Lindimese delegation. My deepest sympathies to you and your country. That civil war was brutal."

Cunningham proffered a hand once Kara had finished her greeting. "Admiral Cunningham at your service, Mr?"

-----

Of course, the offshore Circle was still a normal naval base, even if it did house a maritime museum, among other things, within its vast construction. Ships plied the afternoon sea, docking and leaving, ceremonial flags and crew standing attention appearing across the grey flanks of passing vessels throughout the occasion. This was slightly annoying to the military guests, as it somewhat required them to return the salute, but nonetheless the honouring belong to the giant now laid to rest.

"Jacob Jacobson...you don't say." Lord Rosecrans started to smile. "I was an aviator myself, flew quite a few jets in my time. After I served my time as an aviator I became a destroyer and eventually carrier commander. In the Royal Navy the path to the top runs straight through carrier command."

Lord Rosecrans put both his hands in his pockets and began to slightly sway back and forth. It was an old habit of his that he would only do when he felt relaxed and comfortable. "His Royal Highness's Navy has never been seriously in the business of superdreadnaughts. Until the introduction of the Patrick Henry Class our largest commissioned battleships belonged to the Gettysburg Class. Hamptonian naval doctrine mandates maximum power at maximum range."

With a glance over at Admiral Kirkssen, apparently fairly deep in his own conversation, the Defense Minister smiled. He thought to himself; Might as well give out a little something about the Templar.

"I can't tell you much about the Knight Templar except that it's sixteen million tons of floating Command and Control. We've been building her and her two sister vessels over the past thirty years but everytime a new technological innovation comes along we upgrade. Even our best estimates but completion at the end of the decade at best.

As for other projects, the Royal Navy has Project Denfield in the works." he gave Jacobson a wink. "We also are developing the next generation follow-up to our very successfull Mk. 88 Sea Sabre CAMDS. Aside from new longer range detection systems, faster and longer legged missiles, and new short range swarm bombs there isn't that much more I can go into...besides perhaps the upgrade of the Coral Sea BBLGN." he stopped swaying and took his hands out of his pocket, "We can't let another Hispanola Incident happen again. That was just a pointless loss of life."

“Ah yes I see Phillip,” began Jacobson. “I understand why some stay away from super-dreadnoughts. They are definitely more for psych. warfare. The basis for IDF Naval strategy is not in our surface ships, but rather our submarines. In fact that young Commander who is off talking somewhere else talking about how great of a target this ship is is the grandson of the man who invented the nuc sub. It seems he's picking up where his grandfather left off when he retired in 1982. I had Commander Rickover on my design team a few years back and he seems to have a lot of his grandfather in him. His grandfather designed the pumpless reactors on the Ohio class boomers himself in the 70's. It appears the Commander was ready to pick up from where Hyman the first left off and he came up with an improved pumpless reactor for our Halibut class subs. I think little Hyman will end up an Admiral if he keeps it up. He is an amazing tactician and has been doing well with his command.”

“I agree about your need to improve some of your systems,” said the Admiral. “I remember reading about the Hispanola incident. It was very tragic.” Jacobson showed true sorrow while speaking of the incident as he remembered seeing the coverage of it and remembered the huge human toll. “We haven't designed much in the way of missiles in a while. We've built an amazing system based off of the 747 laser ABM laser. It is pretty much a toned down version of it built to fire at incoming cruise or ballistic missiles. The only range limitations inside of 200 miles is line of sight. A ballistic is easier to hit in these cases, but we still do well against cruise missiles. In fact, once the system is in full use we will share the technology with the OMP.”

"Michaels," replied the Admiral, "Adrian Michaels, Pacific Northwesteria naval command. It is a pleasure to meet you and I hope I am not interrupting any private conversation which I can not be privy to. If that is the case, I am interrupting the wrong secret conversation, and you must excuse me. I've never been very good at this sort of thing."

Kara nodded politely at the man, throwing off a mental prayer to the Sea. "It was nice to meet you, Admiral Michaels. I think I speak for all of Lindim when I express my utmost gratitude for your help," she said, smiling. "And I'd love to talk to you more, just let me finish up this conversation." She turned back to the Freethinker and lowered her voice to a whisper, speaking very quietly into his ear. "I would appreciate this, and if your superiors ever allow another nation to acquire these retired ships, you can contact me here," she said quickly, slipping a piece of paper with an military email address and a PGP key into Cunningham's hand. "If you want, we may resume this discussion later."

Kara gave Cunningham another smile and turned to the Admiral Michaels. "Now, Admiral, I do remember hearing that your soldiers were involved in the rescue of Fuego? Tell me exactly what happened, I've heard only rumors. One of which mentions plans for the Lindimese government to bestow a Ribbon of the Tear upon those soldiers..."

"Well," started Admiral Michaels, smiling and blushing slightly at the Linit, "I've only heard things second-hand, too. However, my information is official, not a rumor.
"The 3rd Expeditionary fleet was sailing around on patrol North of Lindim when we heard the request for help. I dispatched Commodore Fortino with a portion of the fleet to go help, as well as a classified number of special ops. It soon became clear that the special ops would be the important part of the operation, and that the Navy could only help by fending off the opposing Navy. The rest of the 3rd was needed at that point, because your... Rain Admiral Sero, was it? Anyways, one of your high-level officers was about to attack with a large fleet. Luckily, the special ops did their job before battle was fully joined. Both sides lost a destroyer, but that is nothing compared to the losses if both fleets had come into range.
"The special ops landed at a classified location, and met up with some Linits... I'm sorry, you probably haven't heard of them, dear, they're sort of like special ops, as I gather, but I never had any contact with them. Very mysterious, I've been told. Anyway, the Linits and the Azazians... I'm sure you've heard of them... were waiting for us on the beach. The special ops cleared a path to the compound that served as a defense for Tre's believed hideout, the Azazians secured the perimeter and then our special ops secured the building itself, sustaining a classified number of casualties. All I can say it, it was quite a blow.
"Then these Linits come in, disappear down the tunnel, and tell my men to go home. Never saw them again, but apparently they rescued Fuego and," Michaels's voice dropped to a secretive whisper, "I hear they were responsible for Tre's death, as well.
"So, that's the story, or as much of it as I'm allowed to tell you. Now, what was that about the Ribbon of the Thingamawhatzit? And who are you, anyway?"

Kara smiled, and was actually sincere about it. The man's awfully forthcoming, but he got most of the details right. I think we could use him. Does he know Ramsey? "Haha, thanks for filling me in, you'd be surprised at what the normal Lindimese people don't know. I'm just an aide to High Rain Admiral Eskan over there," she said, pointing him out in discussion with various other leaders. "I study naval design theory in the Tenb University, and practically leaped at the chance to see this boat."

Kara's cellphone started ringing and she blushed, pulling it out and with a quick glance at the caller, switched it off. "Sorry, I just don't know how to put it in silent mode," she explained as she fumbled with her handbag to slip it back in. "Oh, the Ribbon of the Tear? It's the highest medal that can be awarded to a unit of foreign soldiers operating on Lindimese soil, and I think the last time it was awarded it was during the Huyuni Incident, several years ago. It has to pass popular vote, but it's pretty much an assured award to your men, if the rumors of its nomination are true." She paused and appeared to think for a moment. "There was also going to be a meeting for the Pacific ambassadors during the crisis, except the original one disappeared, according to Eskan. What's that all about? Is is true?"

Bunhall began pacing the deck nervously. The edge between her and Humphreys had dissipated since they arrived on the deck of the ship. Now the edge Bunhall felt was directed toward the Hamptonian delegation. Even though Hamptonshire and Sarzonia had mostly patched up their differences, she was still wary of a government who had some figures reviled by Sarzonians.

"At least that asshole Ziller isn't here," Bunhall muttered under her breath. She took care to keep her distance from any Hamptonians when she grumbled that. She didn't want to risk the reignition of tensions that led to the Hampto-Sarzonian conference. But if she had to deal with one of those nationalist Hamptonians, she swore she'd strangle him.

However, the first foreign delegate she came in contact with wasn't Hamptonian. Instead, it was the Praetonian delegation. Unlike her tension surrounding Hamptonians, she genuinely liked Praetonians, although her notes on the Praetonian grand admiral told her he was somewhat snooty. With a bit of trepidation, she sidled up to the Praetonain admiral and tentatively extended her right hand.

"Hello, I'm Kathy Bunhall, vice president for naval operations for the Incorporated States of Sarzonia. Nice to meet you."

ooc: Sarzonia, nice Macbeth reference :) ... "but screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail"...(or something like that)[OOC: Thanks. :) I'm a big Shakespeare fan.

"We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking point and we'll not fail!" I believe that was Lady MacBeth.]

"Disappearing ambassadors?" repeated Michaels quizzically. "I can't say I've heard anything about that. Commodore Fortino is our diplomatic figure in Lindim until all aspects regarding the civil war have been resolved. We decided that he was the best informed, and that we was capable of this mission. Also, for the duration of his stay, he will have the 3rd Expeditionary Fleet under his command, in case of..." he paused, "unfriendly encroachments on your territory. Anyway, perhaps I should talk to Eskan, so that he can explain this 'diappearance' more fully.
"As for this Ribbon of the Tear, I'm certain that our forces would gratefully accept any honor bestowed upon them by the Lindimese. I have heard stories from soldiers who described it as if they had left something in Lindim, something they couldn't quite describe. They are now tied to your country, and this honor would mean a lot to them. I can't assume that they will willingly reveal their identities for the presentation of the award, but they will consider it.
"So, what is your specific role at this conference? You seem to be getting down to buisiness, for 'only an aide'"

Lord Rosecrans attentively listened to Jacob though at time he had to restrain a smile when the Admiral said little Hymen. Chaulk it up to a long flight or the Minister's rather low brow sense of humor.

"I come from a rather storied naval tradition myself. My grandfather was the lead designer of Hamptonshire's first dreadnought back at the turn of the century. My father was the first commander of the Royal Navy's first dedicated aircraft carrier and my son is a leading naval aviation engineer."

"The problem with the Hispanola wasn't lack of systems refinement but the improper use of the ship by its CO. The Naval Incident Review Board openned our eyes in the Defense Ministry- we can't have a heavy arsenal ship and classify it as a guided missile battleship. Unfortunately 900 men and women had to die to prove that point.

You long range defense system sounds promising but you may be interested in the 'Barracuda'. As far as tradition gun and missile based defense systems go, it may just be the best out there."

Lord Rosecrans paused for a moment, the sounds of the sea filled the air. "How are things in IDF? The Grand Duke has always told me that he'd would one day like to visit your fine country."

--------------------------

Fleet Admiral Kirkssen polietly ended his conversation and started to walk the deck looking for new people to talk to. Although a gruff and cold commander he was a pleasurable man to talk to. Sir Geoff prided himself on his almost paradoxical nature. A strong advocate of the military, he was an avowed libertarian. While dismissing tradition and the establishment he was a personal friend of the Grand Duke, Lord Rosecrans and the slain Crown Prince. Despite his appearance as a cold and aristocratic leader he always like to come to a group concensus about important matters. Even now he walked the deck stiffly with his head held high even as he felt more relaxed than he had been in months.

Phillip looks to be having some fun, he thought to himself, too bad Admiral Patinkin isn't here. I would have liked to meet him outside of the Joint Councils.

He spotted the Sarzonians and started to walk over to them when he noticed who they were talking to. I think I'll wait for a while, no need to spoil this fine day with unpleasantness.

Kara laughed and shook her head. "No sir," she said, this time remembering to add on the formality, "I was just relaying a message from the aWen Corporation, their liason's over there, to the Freethinker admiral. Something about an armour... something. I don't know, I'm just the messenger." She shrugged brushed hair out of her eyes. Interesting that even he didn't know about Ramsey. I suppose her identity would have changed by now, but this entire scheme suggests a very large, very powerful, very ruthless intelligence operation. Bit like Tre in that respect. Heh, I wonder if her spirit is coming to haunt us or something. I'll have to talk to Uyse about this when I get back.

She turned back to the Admiral Michaels. "And what's Pacific Northwesteria doing nowadays? With my schedule and the rebuilding efforts in Lindim, I don't here much nowdays about the outside world."

"Pacific Northwesteria is doing fine," replied the Admiral. "Our economy is taking a bit of a hit from you Civil War. 20% of rebuilding costs is not nothing, even for a nation of our size. However, President Zwimbala and his staff have deftly spun the story... really one of defiance and charity on the part of Fortino... into a PR dream come true. Our citizens are taking the hit willingly, for the most part, and the rest just mumble something about keeping our money at home.
"Other than that, things are going along pretty much normally. Security has been increased around the President, until we can be sure that no angry activists from Lindim want his head. They consider that purely for show, however, because terrorism has never been a problem in Pacific Northwesteria. In Naval matters, things have been quiet. We rearmed our warships that were in the engagement, and replaced the lost Centaur. Did you know that Freethinkers is coming out with a substantial upgrade? It's quite fascinating, really... you see, they changed the..."

Kara nodded as he talked absorbing all of the information while also running her own analysis. So they're worried about Lindimese terrorists? Hmm... and the donation seems to have been a bit of a surprise higher up. Is Fortino that powerful?

Michaels paused and Kara slipped back into the conversation. "I disagree, those minor changes aren't what defines it as so much as the hull and construction method. It simply provides it with a higher grade of quality overall, with the added costs. I think the Lindimese Navy plans to phase them into our service, replacing the old Barrages..."

Jacobson looked down with a little embarassment when he heard of Lord Rosecrans family tradition. Jacobson lacked that tradition. “Nice to know your family understands tradition Phillip,” began Jacobson. “I was the first of my family to join the Navy. My father was a part of the Israeli Army and my grandfather was in the Hagganah during the late 1940s. My eldest grandson does wish to follow in my footprints. Hopefully a nice little tradition can start now.”

The Admiral listened contently as Phillip talked about the tragedy at Hispanola.

Jacobson was glad when Phillip changed the subject to talk about IDF. “It is a very fine place my friend. It is much better to visit than it was during the Intifadas, but peace found its way and things are fine there. The Duke has an open invitation from the IDF government and may visit whenever he pleases. We'd be honored to have him.”

Jacobson was curious about Hamptonshire since he didn't know too much about the culture of the great nation. “I want to know what it's like in your nation, Phillip,” said Jacobson.

"I'll make sure to tell His Royal Highness. Unfortunately," he lowered his head and spoke in a softer tone, "he's not in the best of health. The death of the Crown Prince, his age, and the increasing pressures coming from NURP are quickly taking their toll on the Grand Duke. I fear he'll only be around for a few more years at best."

Lord Rosecrans stopped speaking for a moment, a look of fear suddenly came over his face and just as suddenly left.

"Hamptonshire is as beautiful and striking as it has ever been. Some of our scholars see this time as our domestic golden age. However, you can't go down a single street or talk to any man or women without the fear of the future rising up. There are too many unanswer and unaddressed questions for us and I fear that we may become consumed by them."

Aha, thought Michaels. What is this now? Aloud he said, "Madame, please excuse my surprise, but how do you know about the future plans of the Lindimese Navy? As a person who knows nothing about the recovery of your own prime minister, surely you would not be privy to such knowledge. Unless I simply misunderstand your culture and your position. Do you have a rank, madame?"

Kara winced internally, but kept a placid smile on her face. Okay, so sometimes she did make mistakes; she did tend to talk too much. But on her face she only gave a confused look and easily covered for her slip. "What do you mean? I'm what you would call a Second Lieutenant, I think. How do I know these things? Well," she said with a sly smile, "You know that in a bueacracy the best-kept secrets are the first to be known. I heard it from my friend Parli who heard it from Jest who worked in logisticals with someone who now works with a Senator on the Defence Acquisitions Commitee. There, now you know the gossip route. Surely your government isn't air-tight, is it?"

Michaels's mind was racing. This woman was good, she knew what she was doing, but something just didn't seem right. Intelligence, maybe? He would have to check with Fortino, see if he had caught anything about Lindimese intelligence forces. Surely, they would have been in contact. Linits? He would have to find out. All he remembered about the Linits from his talk with Fortino was one name.
To Kara, he said, "I'm sorry Madame, I'm getting far too suspicious in my old age. You must excuse my rudeness. I'm sorry, where were we? I'm afraid of completely lost my train of thought. Well, let's talk about how we got involved in our current positions. For me, I went into the Academy after college, and rose through the ranks of the PNN, eventually becoming the High Admiral. How about you? How did you come to know Uyse? It must be a very intersting story."

Kara almost laughed; the man was trying to play the intelligence game. But outwardly, she only squinted her eyes and frowned. "You say? What? I'm sorry, did I miss something?" Oh, well, he knows her name. Probably from that mission. The Sea Herself, this trip better get us a Doujin or it's not worth it. I need a vacation. I heard Hamptonshire's pleasant this time of year.

Dammit, Michaels thought to himself. Why did I have to be so goddamn tactless? If she's not a Linit, of course she'd react this way. And if she is, well, in that case she's no moron and would see straight through it. I just lost my chance of surprise. It was a bad gamble. Aloud, he said, "I'm sorry, I must have gotten the name wrong. Uyrly? Purly? Parli! That was it. I'm sorry, I get names confused easily. How did the two of you meet? How did you get into this business?" She'll see straight through this, but at least I haven't officially said anything. Just hope she doesn't think I'm out to get her. I just want to make contact. Goddammit, I knew there was a reason I didn't sign up to be a spy.

Kara wanted to reach out and tell the admiral he was doing fine for a beginner; unfortunately, that wouldn't work in this case. Unfortunate, the man's too well-meaning to do this work. And I'm not? I am a Linit operator, not a spy! But she only raised her eyebrow and shrugged. "Yeah, I understand you English speakers have a hard time with our language, as much as I do with yours. Let's see, I met Parli when I joined the Navy fresh out of high school, wanting to get some free college and escape the boring corporate desk job. But then, look where I am now." She gave a rueful chuckle and continued. "Anyways, after my training I was assigned to..."

OOC: It takes talent to get "Uyse" to "Parli." I'll give Michaels a pat on the back for that.

Admiral Michaels was at once relieved and wary. Relieved, because the Linit... if she was a Linit... was he just being paranoid? Anyway, he was relieved because his cover hadn't been blown publicly. She could have cried wolf, and she didn't. And that's why he was wary.What was her agenda, that she wanted to keep this quiet worse than he did? Oh well, she seems well-meaning. Perhaps he could get information out of her willingly, without either cover being blown.
Michaels nodded as Kara finished her story.
"Okay, now I can see why she would trust you with such information. And that anecdote about the poodle on the roller coaster! How funny! Anyways, getting to serious matters, how is Lindim doing? How is your Prime Minister? Is the recovery going well? I hope our funds are going to good use. What about the Azazians? I heard that they were backing down from some of their claims."

Bunhall and Humphreys had finished exchanging pleasantries with the Praetonian delegation when Bunhall noticed Kirkssen waiting patiently to speak with them.

I just hope there's not a scene between the Hamptonians and the Praetonians, she thought. She realized such a scene would make her "family quarrels" with Humphreys look like child's play and she wasn't in the mood to play babysitter.

She walked over to Fleet Admiral Kirkssen. Admiral Patinkin was busy with matters of war and was unable to leave his post as the senior military officer in command of the war effort since he and the top military brass didn't trust the suits in Saugerties or in Woodstock.

She was well aware of the occasions when Hampto-Sarzonian relations ranged from the somewhat cordial to the verge of war. Both Grand Duke Reginald Leopold and President Mike Sarzo spent a lot of time together in an effort to patch up the strained relations between the two countries. One thing the two countries shared was a love of the seas and a naval heritage both countries could be proud of.

"Hello, I'm Vice President for Naval Operations Kathy Bunhall," she said, extending her hand to shake Kirkssen's. This is our Chief of Vessel Design Integration Josiah Humphreys."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Kirkssen said as he firmly shook Bunhall's hand. "I'm sorry that we could meet under better circumstances." He didn't want to directly address the current war. Better let sleeping dogs lie he thought to himself.

The Admiral was unusually jovial in his disposition. He cracked a smile and started to lay on the traditional informal charm of eastern Hamptonians

"Mr. Humphreys, it's a pleasure." he extended his hand out for a handshake. "Please forgive me, I've forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Fleet Admiral Geoff Kirkssen of His Royal Highness's Royal Navy.

So...how about this ceremony?"

Bunhall smiled a faint smile when she and Kirkssen talked briefly. Her mind was on the war front even though the Sarzonian navy largely bottled up the Generian fleet in the Black Sea and played a large role in the decimation of Roach-Busters. She still couldn't overcome the nagging feeling that she had abandoned her post, as it were.

Meanwhile, Humphreys was slightly disarmed by the informal tone taken by Kirkssen, but he quickly recovered.

"Yes, this is quite a show," Humphreys said. "A lot of pomp and circumstance involved, not unlike the sailing of the USS Constitution to Nicksia after we bought it." Humphreys took a subtle pride in mentioning Old Ironsides. After all, he was a descendant of the man who designed the ship that earned legendary status in the U.S. Navy and infamy in the Royal Navy.

"I wanted to mention that your Appotomattox-class heavy destroyers have served the Navy well," Humphreys said. His mind flashed back to the havoc one rebel Appotomattox caused the Hamptonian fleet that assembled outside Nicksia during the Second Civil War. "I believe the Naval Museum would be pleased to add one to its displays before very long."

"Before I forget, Admiral Patinkin sends his regrets that he's not able to be here," Bunhall interjected. "He would have loved to have seen this ship up close and personal."

"I'm glad to hear that the old girls are still going strong. We've still got a handfull in commission. Honestly, alot of us up at Naval Command are rather surprised they've been viable for so long." Kirkssen's mind began to drift to the Hispanola and her crew. He had two close friends that lost children when she sunk off the coast of Sarzonia.

"If the Sarzonian Navy requires an Appomattox for the Naval Museum I'm sure I can pull out one of the Deactive Reserve Yards. You can also pass along that the HDC and Royal Navy are currently testing the sucessor to the Appomattox, the Willamette. She's still a lean and mean warship, just with a bit more punch."

"I'm just sorry that I couldn't meet Admiral Patinkin face to face, though eventually we will have to meet. As for this ship..." his voiced trailed off. "She's certainly a fine piece of engineering."

Humphreys raised an eyebrow, but followed the expression with a smile.

"The Willamette? That might serve just as well as the Appomattox has. I wonder what my boss would have to say about that," he said, turning to Bunhall.

She smiled. She was already calculating the figures in her mind and she was eager to agree.

"Sounds good to me," she said. "Please let us know when it will be ready so we can add that to our fleets," she said.

Bunhall and Humphreys looked around at the monstrous ship they were on.

"This is indeed a marvel of engineering, even in today's terms," she said. "The name Doujin carries as much cachet as the old HMS Dreadnaught once did, if not more."

"And has had a similar effect on modern navies," Humphries chimed in. "The Portland Iron Works has certainly been a beneficiary of that," he added. Bunhall nodded. The Portland Iron Works benefitted from the success of its Trimaran designs and its monohulled ships. It was so successful, in fact that the government allowed it to play by a different set of rules. Former Navy Commodore Barbara Tucker was arguably more powerful than anyone who ever wore a navy uniform, except perhaps Patinkin.

"Speaking of the Portland Iron Works, Commodore Tucker also sends her regrets. It appears that she also has a fear of flying and her last flight took her to Granzi City when that attack by Jaxus Nine happened," Bunhall said as her voice trailed off.

"You should like the Willamette, I went aboard one of the protype vessels not more than two weeks ago. It's an improvement in almost every way above the Appomattox." Kirkssen looked over at Lord Rosecrans. He knew that he was perhaps saying a bit more than he should but he didn't worry.

"The only problems with the new girl is the slightly shorter range due to her more powerful, and therefore more thristy, high output gas turbines." He leaned over to Humphreys and gave him an gentle elbow poke in his side, "what she may lack in range she more than makes up with in speed and fire power. Good God, you should see the new 'Muckraker' ASM we've mounted on the Willamette. It'll damn near sink a destroyer with one good hit."

The Admiral stopped for a moment to regain his composure. "Once I get back to Obsidia I'll get the paperwork done. Heck, if I pull the right strings I might be able to get you the HNS Appomattox herself."

"Everyone here understands the situation that Sarzonia is in at the moment. There is no need to send regrets...though if Sarzonia is in need of some ships I'd be more than willing to assemble a fleet and command it myself."

He knew his offer would almost certainly be polietly refused but the idea of getting back out on the water and into action was just too strong to pass up.

"I'm sorry that is the case," said a sincere Jacobson. "It's a tragedy when such a great leader is at the end of his life. He will be in my prayers. We just recently lost our President. President Williams was a friend of mine for years. I was sad to see him go." Jacobson was hiding something as he spoke this. The death had happened about a week ago and the investigation reports into the crash of the Presidential 747 had been seen by the Admiral. He knew someone deliberately killed the President by blinding the pilots with a green light laser. That hadn't made the press yet and an investigation of who was behind it was ongoing, but it was suspected the Communist Party had a role in it.

The discussion changed to the conditions in Hamptonshire. "I know that feeling Phillip. We have been stable for years but with our President's death I don't know what will happen." A worried look came on Jacobson's face before he spoke again. "The crash wasn't an accident. I've seen the reports and I'm trusting you not to repeat this to anyone outside of your President, but Mr. Williams was assassinated. Someone deliberately brought the plane down. I don't know who did it," lied Jacobson. Well he couldn't legally say what organization had done it as it could be a judicial problem down the road. "I fear that fringe groups have hijacked a political party in my nation and are going to bring us to civil war."

OOC: Poodle? Rollercoaster? :D

IC: Kara gave a short laugh and raised her eyebrows at the deluge of questions. "Admiral, sir, my sources aren't that good!" she said, grinning. "I don't much about whatever Azazian claims you're talking about, but they have donated to the relief effort and formed a mutual defence pact with us, about which I'm sure you know more than I. The Prime Minister seems okay from the public appearances she's made, a bit pale, but then, I've never even met her so they wouldn't give me all the details. As for Lindim, well, the Islands haven't had this great of a catatrosphe since the Formation and the Unknown Years, but she'll make it through alright." Kara gave a short rueful chuckle and looked out at sea, her smile turning into an expressionless, if pensive, frown. "That's one of the reasons capitalizm works. It's robust. Yeah, I'll think she'll make it okay, the Sea willing." Kara turned back to the Admiral and smiled again.

OOC: You heard what I said!!!
IC:
Admiral Michaels was about to ask another set of probative questions, when he was distracted by something Kara had said.
"Excuse me, I hope this question isn't disrespectful of your customs, but what do you mean by 'the sea willing'? From context, I gather that your people revere the sea greatly. I've heard the comment before, and never knew exactly what it meant. Is it just because you are an island nation, and the sea is so much a part of your daily lives?"

The conversation with Lord Rosecrans was going well until Jacobson's beeper went off. "Can you excuse me Phillip, I have a call?" said the Admiral. He got on his encrypted satelite phone and heard the basics of the events in Cuba. "I'm sorry, but there's an emergency. Samtonia is in trouble down in Cuba. I'll bet your beeper will go off soon, but either way I have to go. Nice talking to you and God's speed Phillip."

With that the Admiral collected his staff and informed the Freethinkers' officials of why they were leaving as to not insult the polite hosts. The IDF delegation quickly got in their limos. They quickly got through the late evening traffic and got to the embassy where an HH-60 took him to the airport and the delegation left for the NATO installation at Iceland. The flight was long and spent with the Admiral going over documents for hours and being on the phone with the Cabinet to get orders.

Once the plane landed Reykjavic, the staff had an SH-60 waiting for them. The IAF had a CH-130 Hercules to refuel the chopper on its way to the IDF fleet.

9 hours after leaving Iceland, a weary Admiral and staff stepped aboard the ISS OZZIE GUILLEN to assume control. Commander Rickover would stay aboard for about 10 days as the Halibut transited to the deployment point under the command of her XO. Rickover would take control when the sub was ready for operations. Now the IDF fleet was steaming south for Cuba and an impending war.

[bump] Lindim, where art thou?

High above the throbbing crowd, two men sat watching the crowd below from behind the tinted armoured glass of the forward Mack observation deck, 150 metres up. Two members of the National Intelligence Organisation, to be precise, watched the small figures on the forward decks amble to and fro, blissfully unaware of their silent watchers. Not that it mattered, of course, they were simply security, but even so their silent unblinking gaze would have un-nerved the guests if they had known...

----

Barham leaned back against the table, his drink in hand. He watched the senior officers of half a dozen navies chatting away about who-knew-what, and he suddenly found himself very, very, bored.