NationStates Jolt Archive

OZELLA - Alana Drovin, the President of the Federation of Rittia, was kidnapped today in a hail of bullets just outside the Rittian Federal Government Complex. She was leaving to an undisclosed location after being impeached by the Rittian Federal Council by a vote of 69-30. She had been charged with violations of the Rittian Constitution's clause that the President is "the Federation's moral leader, and should behave as such" after several aides came forward claiming she had threatened them with death if they did not have sexual relations with her.

The day began peacefully, with the President arriving in a small, unmarked motorcade into the Rittian Federal Government Complex just a quarter of an hour before the impeachment hearings were set to begin. The Complex was sealed to the public during the proceedings, with only a few cameras allowed in to televise the affair. The hearings began promptly at 8:00am, with a prayer for wisdom in the Council chamber as the President sat in dead silence, wearing a black suit. The trial then began. As all the major witnesses had mysteriously disappeared in the days leading to the hearings, the defense and prosecution arguing their cases seemed to be more of a political argument than a legal one. At roughly 4:30pm, the session came to vote, with only one Councilor not voting, Councilor Javier Geissler, who is overseas on a diplomatic mission. The vote to impeach came in 69-30. The Council was then adjourned until tomorrow for planned removal hearings (the Constitution allows impeachment without removal from office in order to allow Presidents to be severely chastised without endangering political stability). The President then departed, carrying a dark red briefcase.

At roughly 5:05pm, as the President's convoy was leaving the Rittian Federal Government Complex, gunfire erupted from buildings just outside its walls. The fire was heavy and accurate, and the President's guard detail outside the car was quickly cut down. News cameras waiting outside to tape the convoy showed the combat live as around ten masked men with rifles and submachine guns emerged from surrounding buildings and rushed towards the Presidential limousine. One was cut down as a guard leaped from the vehicle. The guard was quickly killed, and the attackers poured in the open door. A moment later, the limousine weaved through traffic at high speed as police units tried to corral it. While cornering slowly downtown, a side door opened, and the body of the driver was tossed out. Pinned to the driver's lapel was a typed note reading, "Do not interfere with this vehicle's progress in any way or the President will be killed in a most brutal manner." The limousine moved rapidly down Ozella Highway One and soon exited at the airport. It maneuvered offroad and disappeared under low trees as police and military helicopters searched for it, assisted by ground units. Several minutes later, the armored limo crashed through a heavy chain-link fence at the airport perimeter and moved towards the international terminal. It pulled up beside a 777, and the passengers emerged, this time unmasked, forcibly pulling the President with them. They ran up a jetway access ladder and gained entry to the aircraft, which had not yet begun boarding. The jetway pulled back several feet, and one of the attackers could be seen operating its controls before reboarding the airliner. The aircrew and flight attendants were taken, one-by-one, to a rear door, and shot in the back of the head by someone unseen behind them. They each dropped to the tarmac, dead, as the airplane taxied to the runways. Military ground-attack helicopters circled low overhead and fired warning shots in front of the aircraft as it rumbled down Runway 36R and pulled into the air. Army Air Forces interceptor jets could be seen pulling up behind it as it disappeared into the low clouds.

The President's senior press liaison, Clayton Zacarias, stated, "The aircraft is still being tailed by our interceptors, who are trying to talk whoever is controlling it into returning. It is now over international waters, cruising away from Rittia at about 36,000 feet." Half an hour later, Zacarias revealed a new twist: "The attacker who was killed during the initial assault has been identified as a member of the Presidential guard unit who was off-duty today. We cannot yet say this with certainty, but it appears that the men who hijacked the plane are also Presidential guards. This is apparently not an act of war by a foreign power as many have presumed, but an act of highest treason by the very men the President trusted most." Zacarias continued to say that the hijackers have made no demands, but they have requested safe haven in a foreign country.

A confidant, somewhat arrogant, articulate voice is heard
I am Chancellor Franklin Eldy. I speak for my master, the Overlord of the Dominion of Undelia. He wishes to inform you that our nation would be willing to shelter you, under one condition. My master wishes to know why you have betrayed your country. If your answer pleases him he will offer you asylum.
Eldy Out.

The end of the message crackles over the radio on the flight deck of the hijacked 777.

"What do you think?" asks Presidential Guard Steve Bots.

Their leader, a senior Presidential Guard named Jakob Rainier, looks at the floor a moment, then responds: "It's our only hope. The plane is running low on fuel and we're still being tailed by the Army Air Forces. We don't have enough fuel to return, and we would probably be executed if we did. We can't just keep flying over international waters forever. We don't know much about them, but we have no alternative beyond death."

The other Guards whisper to one another a moment, then, one by one, give their consent to the plan. They then exit the flight deck until only Bots remains. "Sir, what are you going to tell them?"

"The truth. What else would we say? We lived in an "open, democratic society". We couldn't falsify a tale like that without the whole world knowing. Where is the radio in this thing?"

Bots hands him a headset and directs him to a control yoke. "Just hold the red button on the top left down when you're talking."

Rainier puts on the headset and begins speaking.

"Chancellor Eldy of Undelia, are you there? Do you read me? Over."

He waits a moment.

off-mic:"They must be listening, I'll go ahead."

"Chancellor, this is Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Jakob Rainier. I am the leader of this operation and am speaking on behalf of my fellow Presidential Guards. I am not certain that Undelia has been following developments in Rittia, but our President, Alana Drovin, was found to be forcing her male aides to engage in sexual relations with her and threatening the noncompliant with death. Our government's legislative body, the Rittian Federal Council, learned of this heinous crime and brought her to trial for impeachment. However, in the weeks leading up to the trial, all of the aides who brought the charges as well as several other key witnesses to her behavior "disappeared". However, they did not simply "disappear". They were killed by members of the Presidential Guard and their bodies were dumped in the ocean. Nobody other than the President and her Guards know of this atrocity. We are appalled by this flagrant desecration of our justice system and her wanton abuse of power. We knew we had to let the Rittian people know this had happened, but disclosure of a secret of this magnitude would almost certainly have resulted in our deaths, either at the hands of a military court or by an extralegal assassination operation. So we decided to leave the country before telling the public, and we took the President with us as a hostage to ensure that Rittia does not dispatch agents to kill us. We will not release her to Rittia until they prove she will be brought to justice. We know, however, that we will not likely be able to return. Therefore, we ask that everyone aboard the plane be granted safe haven in your country. We ask for citizenship of Undelia. We ask that we be kept in a secure environment, as Rittia may attempt to attack us. However, we warn you. We are being tailed by Rittian Federal Army Air Forces jets, and a RFAAF transport, probably carrying assault troops to regain control of our plane when it lands. The RFAAF will not likely attempt to shoot us down, as they do not wish to kill President Drovin. However, they will probably attempt to land the transport aircraft wherever we land and attack our plane to recapture the president. Thank you for your support. Oh, and don't think our country's so bad. It's a democracy and everything, but the President who leads it is a bad person. Over."

The Rittian Federal Army Air Forces aircraft also heard the message, and they set up a radio relay to the crisis center that is controlling the response to the Presidential kidnapping. They initiate jamming on the 777's radios The center's commander gets on the radio.

"Chancellor Franklin Eldy of the Dominion of Undelia, this is Lieutenant General Joel Robbin of the Rittian Federal Army Air Forces. I am commanding my nation's response to this unfortunate matter, and I must clarify and qualify the statements made by Presidential Guard Rainier that you have just heard. We believe the President is on board their aircraft as they have claimed. She was indeed kidnapped today while leaving her impeachment hearings, and she is in deep legal trouble for her actions involving some of her employees. However, that is where their telling of the whole truth ends. It has not been confirmed that the witnesses that went missing are dead or if any attempts were made on their lives. If this is found to be true, anyone involved will be tried, regardless of their position. The idea that Ms. Drovin would order these murders is unthinkable. I have known her for many years and she has always been an advocate of nonviolence. However, if she had ordered these murders, she would most certainly be brought to trial. These men are also not the loyal patriots and lovers of justice they claim to be. These are the crimes they will be charged with upon their return to Rittia, roughly in order of severity: high treason, for actions that harm the Rittian people by destabilizing the government; subversion, for attempting to severely hinder the normal progress of government; kidnapping, for taking the President out of the country against her will; terrorism, for holding a hostage; murder of a government agent, for the deaths of five Presidential Guards who tried to protect the President; murder, for the deaths of the President's driver and at least twelve innocent bystanders during their shootout as well as the flight crew of the aircraft they are flying; hijacking, for seizing control of an airliner; carjacking; for seizing control of a vehicle; reckless driving; operating an aircraft without a license; perjury; discharging a firearm within Ozella city limits; possession of illegal firearms; assault; obstruction of justice; trespassing; evading the police; and breaking and entering. More charges may be added as we continue our investigation. So, Chancellor Eldy, I urge you to not grant these traitors safe haven. If you take the wise course and decide not to, please allow them to land in your country. Their aircraft lacks fuel to return to Rittia. When it lands, we will land a troop transport immediately after it. This transport is loaded with highly trained commandos who will regain control of the 777 and save the President. If possible, they will also take the traitors into custody. The commandos will then load everyone onto the transport or the 777. We will refuel each, then fly home. We will pay you for the fuel. We expect the entire operation to take under an hour. This is most convenient for your nation, and you do not even have to risk your own security forces. However, if you choose not to cooperate, our transport will land anyway and assault the 777. The security of our executive is tantamount. Any harm done to Rittian troops in this circumstance will be considered an act of war, and our response to such actions will be situation-appropriate. So, Chancellor, weigh your choices carefully. Thank you. Over and out."

The radio jam on the 777 ended, and dozens of ears were pressed to the receivers as they awaited the reply.

The radio’s crackle echoes in a large rectangular room. The room’s stone walls are bare, its gray tile floors uncovered. A large onyx throne sits at one end of the rectangle, a huge, plain steal laden double door at the other. Upon the throne sits a large man, completely covered in jet-black armor, a dark red cloak wrapped around him and covering his face with a hood. Upon the hood, a small crown that seems to reject all color; it is absolutely black. This is the overlord of the Dominion of Undelia. To his left sits Hardheart VIII the elderly bishop of the Church of Undelia, in his white robe emblazoned with the
twin-Dragon symbol; he appears to be sleeping. On his right, General-in-Chief Charles Iup wearing the traditional Undelian military uniform of black jacket, black trousers and high black boots, proudly displays his multitude of metals, ribbons and other honors. In front of the thrown sits a long stone table. Six well-dressed middle aged and elderly men sit at the table, they are the CEOs of various Undelian corporations. At the table’s end, opposite the throne is Chancellor Eldy, wearing a three-peace Armani suit and holding a compact radio phone. A prolonged silence has set in after the transmissions were received.

“Well, what are we to do?” inquires the CEO of Mono Insurance.

“My intelligence reports that they are of no military threat, there population is small, their economy agriculture based and military spending nowhere near ours.” states General Iup in a harsh tone earned through years of yelling at boot camp recruits.

“That is all well and good but do we want to take military action? Do we want a war? I mean obviously the Rittian government is corrupt and indecent but much could be gained through helping them. Arms deal contracts anyone?” agues the CEO of Undelian Firearms and other assorted weapons.

“Enough,” yells the cruel deep voice of the overlord. “We assist the rebels. Take the necessary actions.”
Immediately the officials stopped arguing, the overlord must not be disobeyed or argued with.

Chancellor Eldy immediately begins plugging in the frequency of the 777 and General Iup takes out a small black cell-phone from his jacket pocket and begins punching in numbers.

“Attention Mr. Rainier the is Chancellor Eldy, you are cleared for landing at a military base to the south of Fortress City, our air traffic controllers will guide you there. You and your men will be given the full protection of Undelian citizenship and will be guarded at all times, for your protection of course. Also President Drovin will be taken into our custody to better guard her. Oh, and do not worry about your pursuers, they will be dealt with.
Eldy out.”

Eldy quickly turns the dial to the to the Rittian Federal Army Air Force aircraft.
“Lieutenant General Robbin tell your men to pray to whatever god you worship. I think you have about… six seconds.” Over the radio General Iup can be heard saying, “Yes, launch twenty surface to air missiles, can’t be to careful.” The transmission fizzles out.

The pilot of the transport aircraft heard the message.

"I think they're about to...SHIT! WE'VE GOT A LOAD OF SAMS ON THE RWS! EVADE! EVADE! EVADE!"

The aircraft enters a steep dive towards the ocean. The two fighters mirror this action, afterburners engaged.

"DROPPING CHAFF! ...THEY'RE STILL ON US! WHAT KIND OF--I SEE TH--"

The transmission stops abruptly. Aboard the transport, chaos has broken loose. The aircraft is in a near-vertical dive, traveling just below the speed of sound and still accelerating. It has been hit by three Undelian SAMs. All missiles have hit the aircraft's fuselage, with one hitting near the leading edge of the left wing. Engine #2 has been filled with fragments from that explosion, and the fuel lines to the left side have ruptured. A fire is beginning to break out along the trailing edge of the wing. Inside the cargo hold, the scene is worse. There are 100 Rittian Federal Army commandoes inside and three GPs. Fragments of the missiles and of the aircraft itself have raked the inside of the cabin. Blood is splattered on the walls. One soldier is in a state of panic and has not noticed the massive gash in his left leg, which is spraying blood on a dead comrade in the jumpseat next to him. One of the GPs is cut loose from its restraints and falls forward, hitting the rear of the flight deck. The pilot barely notices. He and the rest of the flight deck are unscathed, but they are hardly aware of themselves. All attention is focused on the rapidly rising sea. They have noted the warning lights alerting them to an engine fire, but have not taken action. All energy is focused on getting the aircraft out of the dive.

At this moment, the left wing tears off with an agonizing screech. The aircraft then enters a rapid right-to-left roll and decelerates slightly. However, it is still just below Mach 1.00. The fire is no longer a concern. Roughly fifteen seconds after the missiles hit, it impacts the ocean, traveling 620 mph in a seventy-degree dive. At this speed, the collision with the ocean's surface is not much different than a collision with a solid cement wall. In less than half a second, the aircraft and all in it is reduced to fragments no larger than a few square inches in area. Some fifteen thousand feet above, the left wing of the aircraft flutters almost delicately down for such a large object. Fire still trails from Engine #2. It will be over three minutes before it touches water.

One of the escort fighters is also downed, although this is not necessarily the best choice of words. It was hit nearly simultaneously by two missiles, whose high explosive fragmentary warheads were detonated by contact rather than proximity fuses. The pilot was barely aware of what hit him: he saw the glow of the device's solid fuel engine with a slight puff of whitish smoke behind it the instant before his aircraft entered its current state: a rapidly dispersing high altitude cloud of oily black smoke. A few chunks of debris fall.

The other fighter has, miraculously, survived. The pilot panicked when his Radar Warning Receiver squawked at him, and he banked right, pulling over the 777 just as the missiles pass. Their proximity fuses do not engage, and he is spared.

The 777 has been spattered with fragments from the missiles which hit the less fortunate fighter, but the damage is not severe. The cabin is slowly depressurizing, and it is becoming uncomfortably cold inside. The Presidential Guard at the controls recognizes what is happening and immediately begins to rapidly descend.

The surviving fighter is suddenly caught in the larger aircraft's turbulence, and is buffeted dramatically. The pilot edges the aircraft out of the turbulence and reengages his afterburner to catch up to his "shield".

The airliner levels at 5,000 feet, roughly the same atmospheric pressure as the cabin was supposed to maintain. The fighter trails it closely and then moves dangerously close overhead.

Inside the 777's passenger cabin, the roar of the fighter engine is consumingly loud.

The fighter pilot edges his aircraft forward until it is just in front of the 777. Now he begins to descend slightly while decelerating, imposing himself in the airliner's path.

The 777's pilot realizes that the only way out is down, and he begins to descend.

The fighter pilot has soon forced the aircraft down to five hundred feet above the sea. He now moves back until he is directly over the 777. Neither pilot dares change speed, fearing a catastrophic collision.

Both pilots realize they are beaten.



Back at the Crisis Center in Rittia, Lt. Gen. J. Robbin has heard only the radio transmission. A radar man turns to him. "Sir, we've lost all three. The transport went down slow, but the two fighters just disappeared. I think the 777 might be hurt bad, too. One of the fighters was about a hundred yards to his starboard when he disappeared, and the other had banked right over him. He's now descended to nearly sea level, we've barely got contact. I think he's trailing smoke or debris, because I keep seeing some weird anomalies in the signal."

General Robbin looks down. His brow is furrowed, and his shoulders sag.

"Gentlemen, we've--his voice cracks--we've--lost the President to Undelia. We have no choice but to contact our allies, Undelia is simply too large."

An advisor speaks up: "Sir, why not try Inshallah first? We've got a better connection to them, and they've got a massive military."

"Son, they're too plagued by debt to be able to go on a military expedition like this, even though it would be like swatting a fly to them. Our allies helped Inshallah, and they'll help us."

"What do we to until then?" says the aide.

"Contact General Wolcroft. He'll assume emergency executive power until we can elect a new President or get this one back."

"What about the nuclear option?"

"Don't threaten them with that. They haven't gone after us, and I have no idea what their missile defense is like. We need to evaluate further before we go making grand threats like that."

General Robbins rubs his eyes.


(OOC: What tech level is your nation? Also, my nation is not an agrarian economy. Most nations our size are, but we are a former colony of the Sultanate of Inshallah (my old nation, now inactive, population around 2.3 billion when I last used it) and were eventually treated as a province of their land. This is how we have a more advanced society than most our size, and how we came to possess nuclear weapons, which they essentially foisted upon us when we became independent, as their massive nuclear arsenal was essentially bleeding their government budget to death. We are in the midst of a reduction program and currently have about 3,000 warheads of various types and conditions. I am contacting my allies, and they will likely join this thread shortly.)

General Iup is suspended by ropes above a large in-ground tub of boiling oil, his military honors stripped, his uniform in tatters . Before the tub stands the Overlord with Chancellor Eldy at his side and the new General-in Chief Stanley Reart behind him. A small hunchbacked man operates a pulley system connected to the ropes.

“You have misjudged the situation for the last time General.” The overlord calmly states in his deep voice.

“No, please, let me live. I’m sorry,” franticly yelps the shamed general. “The world is so large, I couldn’t have possibly known about the Inshallah Sultanate or…” he is cut off by the sudden sensation of falling as the ropes suddenly lower him into the tub. His blood curdling screams falls upon the unsympathetic ears of the Overlord and his new general. Chancellor Eldy cringes slightly and shots his eyes but soon regains his composure.

“I hope you do not make a similar mistake General Reart. I am counting on you.” the Overlord says as he walks out of the room in long controlled strides, leaving his Lieutenants alone, with the exception of the deaf torturer.

“Chancellor I expect you will deal with the pilot in the usual way?” inquires Reart.

“Of course, you just get the troops ready and contact the Utopian Union.”

“I shall get right on that.” he replies, walking out of the room with a noticeable military saunter.
Chancellor Eldy leaves the boiling room and heads to his private office. It is not one would expect of a man of his station. It simply contains a few chairs, a desk, a computer and a few telephones. It has no decorative features at all, except for a portrait of Eldy, a women holding a baby boy, and a six year old girl. He sits at his desk and picks up a radio phone and dials the frequency of the remaining fighter.

“This is Chancellor Eldy of Undelia. Why do you risk your life for Rittia? The Dominion of Undelia has many more opportunities for a pilot of your skills. Follow the 777 and land peacefully beside it and three million drakes will be yours for the craft and your allegiance. You will be granted full citizenship of Undelia, of course. If you do not comply we will be forced to shoot you down. You can choose either wealth or death.
Eldy out.”
The chancellor settled back into his chair and sighed.

(OOC: Undelia has a slightly beyond modern tech level. It has a missile defense system and two satellites mounted with nuclear, biological and chemical warheads. Its army is excellent, as troops are trained from birth, its air force up to par though not great. Its navy is mostly non-existent except for a few WMD packing subs and coast guard crafts. Undelia is part of the region The Banks of Utopia (look it up, its website is banksofutopia.4t.com). All nations in it have pledged mutual protection to each other.)

Three million....

The pilot is still cruising perilously close to the 777. The momentary distraction takes away his focus and he drifts down slightly before catching himself.

To be a wealthy man in a foreign land, a traitor to my own nation, yet wealthy? Or to die pointlessly, or if I survive, live out my days in Rittia as an unknown?

The pilot looks behind him, seeing his own aircraft's tail dwarfed by the 777's massive one.

My wife is in Rittia... they won't let her emigrate to be with me...

Ahead, he can just make out the dull edge of a coastline. It is slightly misty at dawn, and gloriously green.

Quite like Rittia....

The sun rises to his port, its golden rays piercing the light clouds.

All that money!

In spite of the new light, the sea is still a dreadful iron black.

I'd be rich, I'd be famous, but in my heart I'd be a traitor. I can't live with that.

The sun casts a dull red light across the aircraft's HUD. The pilot carefully lowers his aircraft until it is within a few yards of the 777.

If they want the President, they probably can't hit me without hitting her plane as well. Your move, Undelia.

"Chancellor, this is Captain Rico Piedra. I am the pilot of the Rittian Federal Army Air Forces fighter that is tailing my President's aircraft. I will not betray my nation for yours. You may try to shoot me down, but be warned that I am flying within feet of the Triple 7. I don't know how good your missiles are, but I doubt they're good enough to kill me without killing it as well."

Chancellor Eldy sighes again. He had hoped he would be dealing with a disenfranchised soldier for hire, instead he had a nationalist on his hands. He picks the radio phone up.

“Very well Captain Piedra. You seem to have succeeded in stalemating us. The offer still stands, however.
Eldy out.”

Meanwhile, General Reart walks into the middle of a frenzy of activity. The general is a fit man in his mid 50’s, an officer’s cap covers his balding head and a noticeable air of respect surrounds him. He is in the Undelian central military communications room, where some twenty tech officers are busy transmitting orders. Reart moves to the center of the room and begins giving commands.

“Move the First Army to fortify the beaches. Get the Second and Third armies to Fortress city. Activate the reserves. Put the Fourth and Fifth on active patrol over the rest of the country. Put the police and air force on high alert. Tell the coast guard to prepare for operation barrier.” A young tech officer approaches him and salutes.

“Sir, Chancellor Eldy reports that he was unsuccessful in bribing Bogey 1.”

The general thinks for a second then orders, “Get me the Rittian 777 on radio.”

“Yes sir,” salutes the soldier as he types in the 777’s signal on a nearby computer and hands the general a hand radio.

“This is General Reart, recently appointed General-in-chief of Undelia’s proud military. In case you haven’t noticed you are being tailed very closely by one of your government’s fighter craft. We can not destroy it without risking your own craft taking collateral damage. We doubt it will let you land. If you have any way of getting yourself, your men and your president off of your aircraft without landing, do that as soon as you pass over Undelian sovereign territory. We will locate you and bring you to the capital, Fortress City.
Reart out.”

On the flight deck of the hijacked 777

"Get ourselves off the aircraft? Do we have parachutes?" asks Bots.

"I don't think so. This is a civilian airliner. Go check."

The pilot looks back at Rainier. "Sir, we're over land."

A few minutes later, Bots is back. "We don't have any parachutes. The only chance we have is a water landing. We've got loads of lifejackets."

Rainier turns to the pilot.

"Cut speed as suddenly as you can. We might make the fighter overshoot us. Then turn back towards the coast."

"Yes, sir."

The pilot pulls all the throttles back and drops the flaps to seventy degrees. He then deploys the landing gear. The 777 decelerates rapidly, and the fighter aircraft shoots past it. The fighter pilot doesn't see for a few seconds and is half a mile away when he begins to follow the airliner's turn. He is now exposed to any anti-aircraft fire the enemy could throw at him.

The 777 is back over water and begins running parallel to the coast.

"The water can't be more that 50 feet deep here. I hope they have a boat around here somewhere."

Rainier points to a spot in the sea ahead and says to the pilot, "Land us there." He then steps out of the flight deck and grabs a life vest from under a seat. "The moment we touch down, get out. We'll look for you."

"Yes, sir."

Rainier then returns to the passenger cabin, where ten Presidential Guards and one very frightened President are seated. "Everyone grab a life vest and get to the back of the plane NOW! We're going to ditch the plane! Keep your guns with you!" The Guards take their hostage and go at a full run down the two narrow aisles. They then take seats and brace for impact.

The aircraft hits the water at a low speed and rapidly decelerates until it is not moving. It is quickly beginning to sink. Bots sees water outside the starboard escape door as he opens it. Water rushes in and sweeps him back into the plane along with the other Guards. The plane is now sinking stern-first.

At the front of the aircraft, the pilot has opened the front door and jumped down into the sea, opening his life vest as he does so. He begins to swim towards the partially submerged tail.

Each of the Guards in the rear is now on his own to escape. Water is rushing in faster than a man can run, and the guards are caught in its currents. They are pushed upward towards the front of the plane at nearly twenty miles per hour. Several become entangled in the seats and are now underwater as others crash into the bulkhead separating first class from coach. Bots is swept into the flight deck. This quickly fills with water. Barely able to open his eyes in the dark, stinging saltwater, he can just see out the windscreen that the aircraft is now completely submerged. The powerful current has stopped, and he swims back down, trying to get to the open front door. The aircraft then jerks to a halt, launching him headlong into a chair. It is standing vertically on the bottom. It then begins to slowly rotate downward. Bots steels himself against the agonizing pressure and bursts out of the door. He immediately begins to swim with all his might towards the surface.

Meanwhile, the fighter realizes he has lost his cover. Capt. Piedra engages his afterburner and flies at full speed, looking for somewhere he can hide. His ears are pricked for the sound of the Radar Warning Receiver. The moment he hears a missile on it, he will eject.

Bots breaks through the surface and takes a deep breath of air. He engages the life vest. He looks around. He can't see anyone over the waves. He yells, "IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE?!" He then panics when he hears no reply. Oh my God, am I here all alone? He doesn't know if the Undelians will search for him. They may think the aircraft crashed. He begins to swim in what he believes is the direction to shore.

Thirty yards away, the 777's pilot is doing the same.

General Reart watches the scene unfold on several radar screens and satellite images. He seems unconcerned and remains stone faced, inwardly however, he can not forget the fait of his predecessor. Worse, he has a feeling that this is a much bigger mistake than a mere intelligence error. “Fire a SAM at Bogey 1 and alert the flak gunners in the area to shoot at any unidentified falling objects,” he orders.

“What about the downed airliner sir?” inquires a tech officer.

“The second that fighter is down, dispatch search helicopters and the coast guard to sweep the crash zone. We must locate the Rittian president. The Overlord demands it.”

“And the others?”

“They are a secondary priority. If you find them in the process of searching for the president, pick them up and bring them to the capital along with her.”

“Yes sir,” the officer says as he begins contacting various military personnel.

Capt. Piedra's Radar Warning Receiver squalled. The moment it happened, he pulled the yellow handle over his head, and was immediately ejected from the cockpit.

The force of the ejection caused him to black out for a moment. When he came around, he was still moving upward. He was dimly aware of a rumble below as his aircraft was destroyed by the SAM. His parachute deployed a moment later, and he began the long drift downward. He was a good thousand feet in the air. He scanned the ground for AA. There was none to be seen.

It was quite a surprise to Capt. Piedra when the 20mm HE anti-aircraft shell impacted his lower left leg. He saw his foot falling away into space.

Shit... blood loss... shooting...parachute... shit...

He was in a panic. He was so afraid he was only dimly aware of the dangerous wound he had sustained.

Gun... ...kit.... plane... handle... PULL!...

His mind began to play tricks on him in his terrorized state, replaying random images from the moments before the missile hit. Each image was experienced so deeply that he felt it would never end. His heart raced as he continued to float down.

Meanwhile, Presidential Guard Stephen D. Bots was swimming. He couldn't tell if he was moving. All he could see were the peaks of the swells around him. He knew he was moving up and down as he rode the waves. He thought he could feel a current pushing against him slightly. He wondered if he would ever be found. He perceived that he had spent an eternity in the water, swimming towards shore. However, it had actually been closer to three minutes. Bots, too, was in a panic.

“Bogey 1 is eliminated.” The message goes out across military channels all over Undelia. Coast guard boats across the country immediately change course and head toward the crash site of the 777. Helicopters take off all along the three hundred mile coast to search for survivors.

One of these copters is the Alpha-15. Manned by Lieutenant Frank Yeark and Sergeant Calvin Relts, the helicopter takes off from the port city of Tielsty minutes after the Rittian fighter craft is downed. It is on its way to the crash site. While in transit Relts spots something thrashing in the water.

“Sir, I think that’s one of them foreigners,” he points out.

“Well, lets pick him up,” the Lieutenant responds.

Yeark maneuvers the aircraft to about 50 feet above the man and activates the copter‘s megaphone, while Relts opens the side door a and throws a rope ladder connected to an electric pulley down into the water.

“Sir, remain calm, we are from the Undelian Coast Guard.” Yeark says over the megaphone. “We are lowering a rope ladder, grab on, we will pull you up.”

Meanwhile, Emily Falt was taking a walk in one of Undelia’s many barren wastelands. A rather plain women in her mid-twenties, she has the black hair and pail skin of a pure blooded Utopian, the main ethnic group of Undelia, and she wears the long, heavy, formless, gray robe-like dress required of women by law. Her wonderings have brought her just a few miles from the town/rifle manufacturing plant where she worked on an assembly line. She is on her three hour break for the month and decided that she would spend it walking through what was left of the Undelian wilderness. Her grandfather had once told her stories of lush forests and animals living outside of zoos. She thought he must have been crazy, especially since the police dragged him off in the middle of the night for being an environmentalist sympathizer.

Her quite contemplation is suddenly broken by the sound of an artillery gun. She instinctively drops to the ground, knowing full well that the AA gun could be hidden anywhere, in any of the numerous rocks and craters than spot the marred landscape. The firing stops and she looks up to see the injured Piedra land in a heap twenty feet away, his parachute covering his body. Curios she approaches the pilot and pulls the parachute back. She lets out a scream as she sees the critically injured man lying before her. She can tell by his uniform and appearance that he is a foreigner. Terrified, she begins sprinting back to the factory shrieking “Foreigner, we’re under attack. Foreigner!!”

Bots contemplates the faces around him in the Undelian rescue copter. He was so afraid of death in the water that he is only just realizing how incredibly cold he is. Seeing them in their foreign uniforms, speaking with foreign accents, he is struck for the first time by the magnitude of what he has done.

Miles away, Capt. Piedra shouts to the fleeing woman: "Don't run! I'm not an enemy!" He knows he can't get far from where he is by the time a military search arrives. He briefly considers shooting her with his pistol, but he knows the sound would give him away. He has not yet realized the gravity of his injury, and the blood loss is not yet severe enough to hinder. He is so panicked that he hardly feels pain from his missing foot. He looks around himself. He is surrounded by rocks and boulders. He knows he has to hide. He doesn't want to become a prisoner of a nation that would shoot at an ejected pilot who is not firing at them--a violation of the Geneva Conventions. Piedra feels himself weakening as he crawls into a tight crevice between two large rocks. The moment he stops moving, he begins to feel dizzy and cold. He is going into shock. He hovers in a semi-conscious state, his breathing rapid and shallow. In his rush to get into hiding, he did not notice that he left an obvious trail of footprints and blood leading the eighty or so feet from the parachute to his cover.

Back in Rittia, General Wolcroft of the Rittian Federal Army has assumed emergency executive power. He arrives to find the Crisis Center in chaos. He walks up to Lt. Gen. Robbin. "What's going on here, Joel?"

"Sir, we're beginning to intercept Undelian radio traffic. Two things of note: First, they're searching coastal waters for a downed airliner, so we have to assume it crashed for some reason. It's possible they shot it down, or perhaps it was too severely damaged from the missiles that downed our aircraft to make it to land."

"Interesting. My guess is it was damaged. I have no idea why they would magnify this ...incident by downing the plane. It would be to their advantage if a full-scale conflict were to break out to have the President in their custody. What was the second thing?"

"We're picking up other communications, on their police frequencies, to look for a man in a foreign military uniform. All these communications are in a fairly localized area around thirty miles from the coast. The only thing we think it could be is one of our fighters. We didn't distinctly see one of them downed on radar. It's possible that the anomalies on the 777's radar picture were not debris but the fighter. It was flying incredibly close, though, and, if I may speak candidly, most of our pilots aren't nearly that good. Our radar techs had said that the anomaly didn't look like anything they'd ever seen before, but most don't have experience with combat-damaged aircraft sigs."

"So you're saying one of our pilots may be down in Undelian territory?"

"It seems like the only explanation for all that chatter."

"Damn. This makes the whole situation more complex. Every single minute there's a new variable."

"We're doing our best, sir," says Robbins.

In the Central Command Room General Reart receives the news that a search copter has successfully located and rescued a Rittian citizen.

“What’s his name and Rank?”

“The rescuing soldiers have confirmed he is a member of the Presidential Guard; his name is Steven Bots,” a nearby tech officer answers.

“Tell the soldiers to bring this Bots directly here. Alert me when he arrives and bring him to my private office. I want to meat this man personally.”

“Of course, sir.” salutes an officer.

Meanwhile, near Rifle Plant #5, an ambulance screams through the waste lands, its sirens blaring. Inside are three emergency medical technicians, the driver and two Undelian police officers. The EMTs and the driver each have a holstered pistol; the police officers are outfitted with two pistols, a bulletproof vest, a riot helmet and a U-32 (a compact submachine gun.) each. As the emergency vehicle reaches Piedra’s parachute, it screeches to a stop. The back doors fly open and the two officers jump out, while the EMTs prepare a gurney. It doesn’t take long for the officers to notice the trail of blood leading to the crevice. After exchanging a series of silent hand signals the men approach the cave from a wide angle, eventually positioning themselves on either side of the entrance.

One shouts, “ We know you are in there, if you cooperate you will receive medical attention, if not we will leave you here to die.” The officers receive no response except for a series of short gasps. The other peaks in and notices Piedra’s critical condition.

“This doesn’t look good,” he thinks aloud. Shouting, “Docs get over here I don’t think this guy is going to last much longer.”

Two EMTs rush over with a gurney, the other runs before them and drags the near-unconscious pilot out of his hiding place and begins to perform CPR before putting him on the gurney. He is moved to the ambulance where emergency resuscitation continues. The vehicle then speeds off to the nearest hospital, 15 miles away., leaving the two officers alone to secure the area.

“Hey, you think they would do all that for us if one of our legs got blown off?” one asks the other.

“Doubt it, that kinda stuff is usually reserve for executives after all.” He chuckles, “they are the only ones that can afford it, don’t know how that foreign flyboy is gonna pay.”

“Yeah, but still. They must want him for something, Wonder what?”

“I don’t know but I wouldn’t want to be him.”

About the same time out at the crash site, the coast guard boats have arrived and are deploying scuba divers to explore the downed airliner and determine the condition of the Rittian president.

"Sir! Sir!" The aide chases General Wolcroft as he is leaving the Crisis Center. "Sir, something just came up, you might want to take a look at it."

The Acting President rushes with the aide back inside.

He is greeted by Lt. Gen. Robbin. "Sir, we just intercepted some more emergency services radio traffic. We can now say with reasonable certainty that one of our pilots is in Undelian custody."

"How much do we know?" asks Gen. Wolcroft.

"The downed aircraft was piloted by Capt. Rico Piedra. He has ten years of service with the Inshallid Air Forces - Atlantiopian Defence Branch. He served briefly on the IAF Demonstration Squad, which explains the fancy flying. We've checked his records and he's one of our better pilots, at least better on the annual eval. Ninety-second percentile, to be exact. Our radio intercepts suggest he is seriously injured and may not survive. We're not sure how he was hurt, but it looks like his plane was shot down. It's amazing his aircraft survived a hit from one of their SAMs. They seem to be remarkably powerful and accurate."

"Would liberating him work?"

"I wouldn't recommend it, sir. He seems to be in very bad condition, not enough to survive an escape of any sort. Also I doubt we could infiltrate their air defenses."

"What about by sea?"

"We could dispatch someone by submarine, but again, he's not in condition to be moved. I think we're going to have to let them keep him for a while."

"Very well. Get satellite photos of the crash area to confirm it was him. Oh, and the airliner too."

"We're already contacting the Inshallid Air Forces Space Wing. They've helped us with satellite stuff before and they've got some really good technology."

"Good. I've got other matters to attend to, so please call me if anything further develops." Gen. Wolcroft left.

(OOC: About three hours pass during the course of the following events.)

About twenty-five Undelian scuba divers near the downed airliner. After a few minutes of searching they find an open door near the front of the plane. Ten of the divers enter while the rest continue to search outside of the 777. Inside the downed aircraft they locate ten bodies, the Rittian president not among them.

Meanwhile, at Arms Manufacturing inc. 3rd Hospital the now unconscious Piedra had stabilized. The hospital’s top doctors had been informed that if this patient died they would be killed. So, as other patients waited, the entire staff worked on this one man. Shortly after his arrival, the doctors determined that his mangled wound had already become infected from exposure to Undelia’s waste land soil. The doctors then amputated further up the leg, leaving almost none of the limb left. After sewing up the wound and a blood transfusion, he was declared stable and moved to a private room under constant supervision by at least one doctor at any given time.

The news of the pilot’s recuperation brings a short sense of relief to General Reart. He is growing increasingly nervous; he isn’t sure how much longer until the Overlord discovers the disappearance of the Rittian President. He knows it is all because of his vague suggestion to an overzealous and panicked crew. He knows his mistake could be the end of him, literally.

“Who is the commanding officer in the area?” he asks the techs.

One of them glances at a monitor and enters a few commands, “Colonial Gralft, sir”

“Fill him in on the situation and dispatch him to that hospital. Tell him we want everything that pilot can tell us,” he says in a cold off-handed manner, his mind still dwelling on the multiple tortures he himself could be subjected to if he fails.

“Right away, sir.” a tech answers. “Wait, we’re getting an incoming transmission. Sir, Bots will be landing in seconds.”

“Good send him to my office.” On this the General turns and leaves the room and heads down the hall to his office. The room is far more glorious than that of the Chancellor’s. The floor is covered in luxurious carpet, the walls mounted with various hunting trophies and photos of Military hardware. He sits in his exquisitely upholstered office chair behind his mahogany desk and awaits the arrival of the foreigner.

The rescue helicopter approaches Fortress City, the sun is low in the sky giving the black citadel an even eerier look. The city is not a city at all, but a huge fortress-like building that houses the central government of Undelia. The copter lands on a helipad on the roof of the structure. Five soldiers immediately surround the aircraft and order Bots to get out. They then take him down an elevator and to the office of General Reart.

As soon as he enters the room the General introduces himself. “ Greetings Mr. Bots. I am General-in-Chief Reart, supreme commander of Undelia’s military and proud servant of the Overlord. Please have a seat and tell me what your place in this whole incident is.”

Presidential Guard Bots sits down in the luxurious leather armchair. It squeeks as his clothing is still wet. Bots looks at Gen. Reart a moment before beginning.

"Sir, I am Presidential Guard Steven Dowling Bots, PG5736. I have seven years of service with the Presidential Guards."

"I guess to begin explaining this, I must first give some background on myself. I was raised on the edge of Ozella, in a very religious household. My father taught me that in all decisions, there is a right path and a wrong path, with none in between. I have lived by this principle my entire life."

"As you know, our President, Ms. Alana Drovin, is a national hero. She is, or rather was, universally respected, even by her few political rivals and enemies. However, a few weeks ago, word emerged that she has been forcing male aides to engage in sexual relations with her against their will. Specifically, she threatened that if they did not cooperate, she would have them and their families killed."

"The Rittian Federal Council, our nation's legislative branch, normally has supported her. Most of its members are socially conservative, as she claimed to be. However, when her offenses came to light, they aligned with more liberal members in opposition, and the Council brought her to trial for violating the Constitution, where it says that the President is our moral leader and some other stuff along those lines."

"Although the names of her accusers were kept secret, the President of course knew who they were. She knew that if they testified at the impeachment hearings, her Presidency would be over."

"The Rittian Federal Presidential Guards are not legally a military force, though we train similarly. Because they are not part of the military, the President has direct, carte-blanche authority over them. Some of the most trusted members, myself included, were given a 'special assignment of utmost importance to national security.' They sent us to kill the witnesses."

"We would come at night. All the witnesses were staying with friends or family. Almost all of them would post a "guard", basically one of them would stay up at night to keep watch. That person would be the first to go. We had a sniper with us, and he would hit them with a silenced rifle. Then we'd move to the door and pick the lock. We've got good guys in the Guards that can do it without leaving any obvious evidence."

"After the door was open, we'd go in. We each had a silenced pistol. We would go from room to room and kill anything that moved. Anything. A few times I killed dogs, cats. One time, I had to kill a BABY!"

Bots rises from his seat, his fists clenched, his face reddening.

"A BABY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! I HAD TO GO INTO A ROOM, AND A BABY WAS SLEEPING THERE, AND I HAD TO SHOOT IT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! A BABY!!"

Bots slowly sits down. A tear runs down his face. His eyes are red. He begins again, weaker:

"That's why we kidnapped the President. Because what she had us do, what she did, was evil. A few of us, most of us from the missions, decided that the President had to be punished. We knew the Council would impeach her, but nobody would ever know about the killings of the witnesses. Not the Council, not the media, nobody. We knew that if they even thought we were going to the media, we too would disappear. So we kidnapped her."

Bots leans forward, his face in his hands. He is crying inaudibly.

General Reart’s expression remains blank. “A truly moving story, Mr. Bots. I myself do not remember my father. I was taken by the military when I was two years old. I have served in it ever sense and am now head of the entire Undelian military.”

“In any case, you were right to do what you did, if only because if your leader is do easily distracted from running the country, she deserves to be deposed. Unfortunately, we still have not found her. All we know is that her body is not on the plain. I personally suspect that she is dead. And your nation? Our intelligence reports that a General Wolcroft has seized emergency powers and is now acting president.”

“I do have some good news for you, though. The Overlord has decreed that we are to assist the rebels in any decent way possible. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me. Anyhow, I think I have an idea on how to enlighten your people to your former rulers murderous actions, but I need to know something. Is there anyway to infiltrate the Rittian media? A short radio or television message would be heard by at least thousands, perhaps even millions. Though you would have to present evidence of course, names of people killed mysteriously, perhaps.”

As this conversation continues, Colonial Gralft arrives at the Arms Manufacturing inc. 3rd Hospital carrying an old black briefcase. He is a towering, frightening man. His face, scarred by a premature grenade detonation, is horribly deformed. The doctors allow him to pass freely through the hospital and he quickly arrives at the private room of Piedra, where a doctor monitors his unconscious body.

“Get those tubes out of him now,” he orders in his gravelly, almost inhuman voice.

“Who do you think you…” The doctor looks up at his visitor for the first time and is noticeably startled. “Oh, I…I am so sorry. I did not realize that… that you would be her so soon Colonial. Of course, I will… will take him off of his morphine.” He begins disconnecting Piedra’s I.V.

“Good, he‘ll have to be fully aware for this,” he says as a hideous smile spreads across his face and then quickly fades.

The doctor injects Piedra with something. “He should be awake in a few minutes. I warn you though he will be in extreme discomfort.”

The deformed colonial chuckles, “That just makes my job easier.” He sets his briefcase on a table opens it and begins taking various items out of it. He produces a few blades of diverse sizes, an automatic lighting torch, an electric drill and a collapsible cow prod.

“Are… are you going to use those?” the doctor nervously inquires.

“Only if I have to. We all have our place in this world doctor, right now mine is to extract any information of military value from this man.”

“Well, I’m just going to leave now,” he says as he walks out of the room, making sure to close the door.

Meanwhile, the search for the Rittian president is widened to include the entire coast and all areas up to ten miles inland. Many of the searchers now feel they are no longer on a search and rescue but a body recovery.

Bots thinks for a moment. "There were others in the Presidential Guards that were involved in the conspiracy but didn't engage in the actual kidnapping. I could get in touch with them. Also, there's a small party in our country, the Inshallid Reassimilation Faction, who want to get our country back under Inshallah's control. A few of their leaders are militant, and they recruited followers who could care less about reassimilation; they just want to blow things up. We could try contacting them. Wait... why would we? My goal was to bring the President to justice and keep her from abusing the executive position unchecked. We don't need to do any invading or revolution-starting. We've got free press over there. We could make two, three phone calls, right from this office, and all of Rittia would know. Now that I'm over here, I need not fear for my life if I inform. If I make these calls, though, I want to live here in Fortress City, just to be safe. You can get the phone numbers right off the Internet in two minutes, easy. You got a phone in here?"

Capt. Piedra is slowly regaining consciousness. He is becoming aware of a crippling pain in his upper left leg. The pain is so intense he fails to realize that he can't feel anything below.

"Sir, General Wolcroft wants you on the phone," said the colonel in the Crisis Center.

"Thanks. Tell him I'll be just a moment," replied Lt. Gen. Robbin.

Robbin grabs the phone from the colonel. "Hello, sir. What can I do for--"

"Anything new?" asks the General.

"No. We aren't hearing any more chatter about the prisoner. However, we got that satellite pass from the IAF. We can see the fighter. There's a few people and vehicles around the wreckage. It definitely got hit pretty bad by something. A few miles away, we spotted what appears to be his parachute. There's a few people in that area, too. If he's alive, we think he's in a large structure around fifteen miles away. Our experts say it has all the trappings of a medical facility. However, chances are he's dead, or at least that's what their chatter suggested. We tried to figure out what's going on with the airliner, but the area we suspect it's in is obscured by clouds."

"We need to know the status of the President and the prisoner. They're the variables that will decide what we do next. I'm getting into contact with Undelia. It's perfectly reasonable to ask for the status of personnel. Also, I'm going to begin mobilization of the military, just to be safe. I think a conflict is avoidable here, but I don't want us to be caught napping."

In his office, Gen. Wolcroft hangs up the phone. He then prepares a digital message to the Overlord of Undelia.

To His Excellency the Overlord of Undelia
From General James Wolcroft, Acting President of the Federation of Rittia

Excellency,
It has come to my attention that several Rittian citizens have entered your nation. For bureaucratic purposes, we need to know whether the following citizens are alive or dead. It would be most helpful if you were to also include information about their current health.

President Alana Drovin
Captain Rico Piedra, Rittian Federal Army Air Forces
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Gene McCullen
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Rafael Arciniega
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Dwayne Lembke
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Jakob Rainier
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Charles Dimond
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Franklin Morter
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Steven Bots
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Bradley DuCote
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Derrick Cinna
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Thomas Belk
Rittian Federal Presidential Guard Lloyd Landa

Your cooperation is deeply appreciated. It is possible that there are other members of the Rittian military in your country. We doubt this, but if you become aware of any, please inform us immediately.

Most Sincerely,
James Wolcroft
Acting President, Federation of Rittia
General, Rittian Federal Army

General Reart was barely able to repress a smile as Bots spoke. He sensed an irresistible opportunity to redeem himself. “You present a very sound option Mr. Bots.” As he says this he presses a small button underneath his desk. Nearby, in the office of a relatively unimportant military officer, a light on the wall flashes. The officer there immediately calls Reart’s office. “Of course you can use my telephone to…” the phone rings. “Oh, please hold on a second,” the General says as he picks up a phone on his desk.

“Hello, this is General-in-Chief Reart, state your business.” He waits a few seconds; the officer on the other end says a few random words quietly, so no one can hear what they are but so that people nearby will think someone else is talking. “Well, what is the urgent report?” He pauses again, the officer does the same thing again for a few minutes. “What?! That is unbelievable. I thought Ritta was a well established democracy. Well keep me informed. I have to go. I‘m in a meeting.” He hangs up the phone.

The general forces a frown to cross his face. “I am afraid that General Wolcroft has seized control of all Rittian media in the past few hours. It seems that he is either in on the plot with your impeached president or simply wishes to seize power for himself.” He sighs. “It appears that these Inshallid reassimilation fellows and your guard friends are the only ones who can help your nation now.”

In the AMI 3rd Hospital, Colonial Gralft moves toward Piedra’s stirring body, carrying a roll of Industrial duct tape. He quickly straps the man’s arms to the guard rails on the hospital bed. He walks back over to the table and begins to speak in his terrifying voice. “Good evening foreigner. You may be feeling some slight discomfort in your leg. Trust me, that is only the beginning if you do not cooperate. You WILL tell me everything. First your name and then any other tiny bit of military information you are carrying around in your head. If you do not talk or you lie, I am authorized to perform a number of… procedures. These include more amputations, electrocution, impalement, facial… reconstruction,” he chuckles, “and of course castration.”

Meanwhile, on an isolated beach in Southern Undelia (one of the few areas that is not polluted), Gregory Jourk, CFO of Undelia Foods Incorporated, is on vacation with his wife, his two teenage sons and twenty-six of his servants. The family is enjoying themselves, the wife is sunbathing, the children attempting to learn to surf from one of the servants and Jourk himself sitting in a lawn chair enjoying his break from responsibility. He is only vaguely aware of recent events but does know that the military is searching for the Rittian president. While pouring wine for the CFO, a butler spots something in the water.

“Oh my, is… is that a body.” he stammers rather loudly

The surfing instructor hears him and rushes out to get the body to shore. He manages to get the person out of the water. It is now evident that the body is a middle-aged women wearing a life jacket over a conservative business outfit. The instructor determines that she has a pulse but is not breathing. She must have passed out just before the butler spotted her. The rescuer begins performing CPR on the women. Within a minute and a half the women coughs up water and awakens momentarily. She soon passes out again but is breathing and appears to be fine.

By now Jourk has already called 258 (the Undelian emergency number) on his cell phone. He is relieved when he hears that someone is already in the area. Three minutes later, the vacationers hear helicopter rotors. In two minutes, three helicopters are hovering a few feet above the ground. In less than a minute, two soldiers hop from a helicopter, pick up the unconscious president and load her onto a copter. The aircraft are out of site in minutes‘ they are on a full speed course for the capital.

In his office, Chancellor Eldy receives the message that the Rittian president has been found, as does every other high level government official and corporate executive. But Eldy receives a transmission that no one else did, General Wolcroft’s digital message.


To: General Wolcroft:
From: Chancellor Eldy

Sir,
First, please do not attempt to contact the overlord directly, again. If my secretary had accidentally allowed your message to go through the results could have been disastrous. For all intents and proposes you are to contact me unless otherwise noted. Now, on to business. The presidential guards are all dead with the exception of Mr. Bots who we have in our protective custody. His comrades unfortunately perished in the airliner crash. As for Captain Piedra, he is currently in a modern medical facility where I assure you is receiving the finest medical care but I am informed is fading fast. Now the business with your president, she was found in the last thirty minutes and is stable and on transit to Fortress City. That is all you need to know for the moment.

Chancellor Franklin Eldy

A telephone rings in an apartament in Ozella. The occupant is startled out of a half-sleep and stumbles to pick up the phone.

"You've reached Allan Segui. What can I do for you?"

"Hey, Allan. This is Steve. In case you haven't been watching the news, we accomplished the primary objective."

"That was today? You got her?"

"Yes, and yes. I'm now in some distant foreign country called Undelia. They're very kind here. However, as far as I know I'm the only one who survived. The plane ditched off the Undelian coast, and it sank rapidly. Only a few of us got out. I don't even know if the President made it. However, I have learned that General Wolcroft, that Army guy, siezed control of the media and--"

"What do you mean? I just turned on the TV and everything looks normal!"

"That's what they want you to think, man. Wolcroft's on every street corner, in every mailbox, on every television. He's in the freaking air, man. He's taking over the country. If we don't want to be subjected to this horrid dictator, we've got to take action."

"How?" asks Segui.

"Remember the week before Independence Day, how we were monitoring those guys who wanted us to stay in Inshallah? And how we eventually called them to buy peace so they wouldn't make trouble? We need to get in contact with those guys. You remember numbers, you've got to know their number still, right?"

"Uh...yeah. I think I remember it. But man, there's only like two hundred of them that are militant, and there's like twenty-five million Rittians who stand against them--what can they do?"

"I don't know, bro. They're the only hope for a free Rittia, though. We've got to try. Have you still got their number?"

"Yeah, I do, I already told you that. How--?" Segui is cut off by Bots.

"Ok, here's what I want you to: get out of your house in ten minutes, faster if you can. The government might know I'm alive, and they know we're tight. They'll want to talk to you. Once you're out, get on a city bus and go somewhere far away. You're off North Kings Street, right? Go somewhere in Tampere, it's a good two miles, and it's not on a direct bus route. If you can change your appearance that would be good, too. When you get to Tampere, find an out-of-the-way pay phone, or, even better, ask to borrow a phone at a restaurant or something. Call the militants, fill them in. They practice wilderness evasion, so they'll probably take you into the woods. My guess would be up north in the really rough parts of the mountains. Once you're there, start taking any action possible to hinder or weaken Wolcroft's government. If you guys do it right, we could start a popular revolution here."

"Sounds good. I'll be out in five. Stay safe, man." Segui hangs up the phone and grabs a few belongings, mainly clothing, in preparation to leave. Within an hour, he makes his call from a cheap motel room in the Tampere neighborhood of Ozella. Two hours later, an old rusty car with darkened windows pulls up outside. Two men, ethnically Atlantieopian, enter the motel room and, without speaking, pull the curtains and proceed to bind, blindfold, and gag Segui. They then inject him with a fast-acting sedative. Some five minutes later, his unconscious form is stuffed into a large duffel bag, which is placed in the trunk of the car. The men close and lock the room before driving off.

In the Arms Manufacturing Inc. 3rd Hospital, Capt. Piedra looks up at Colonel Gralft. He's just trying to intimidate me... The pain in his leg is still growing. Or is he? They've already violated international law once... hopefully that was just a jumpy greenhorn... "I am Rico Piedra, Captain, Rittian Federal Army Air Forces, 0170941." He awaits a response.

General Wolcroft reads Eldy's reply. "Don't contact the Overlord? Who does this clown think he is? Whatever. Well, it's not right that one of ours should die like that. Get me a keypad." Wolcroft sends a second message.

Chancellor Eldy,

It is highly unfortunate that Capt. Piedra's condition is so poor. We do not wish that he would die apart from his country and his countrymen, but we understand it is probably not feasible to transport him. Because of this, we request to dispatch two of our nation's finest doctors, to assist in his care. Should treatment fail, we simply want them to be there so Capt. Piedra can be with someone familiar in his hour of death. I have informed Dr. Casey Goldsby and Dr. Everett Dreye, and they are already on their way to Ozella's airport. They will board a small government passenger jet, which will fly to Undelia. We can arrange for it to land at night if you do not wish anyone aboard to see your country in daylight. You may search the doctors as well as the aircraft and its crew as you see fit. Feel free to escort the aircraft into your territory so that you can ensure it does not attempt anything illegal, and feel free to transport the doctors in such a way as to prevent them from seeing where they are going. This is not a mission of espionage, it is a mission of mercy. I hope that you will humanely accomodate this in spite of the recent tensions between our two nations.

Most Sincerely,
James Wolcroft
Acting President, Federation of Rittia
General, Rittian Federal Army

“Good job, Mr. Bots. You have done a very brave thing. It is not just anybody who has the guts to stand up to their oppressors the way you have,” General Reart congratulates. “You have done enough for today and I am sure you are tired. If you take the elevator across the hall to the third floor, a room is prepared for you in office 343. Just check the door numbers, you’ll find it. Goodbye and goodnight, friend.”

Colonial Gralft smiles at Piedra’s response. “Name, rank and serial number. Very good Captain.” He picks up a six inch, exceptionally sharp-looking, scalpel-like blade with his right hand and turns to face the pilot. “You did not immediately start weeping and spilling every fact you have learned from the first grade on. After years of torturing spineless environmentalists, union organizers, heretics and dissenters, you may offer a challenge I have not had that in a long time.” Gralft moves toward the hospital bed. “Now,” he grabs Piedra’s forehead with a his gnarled but strong left hand and forces it back. At the same time he places the scalpel just underneath the foreigner’s nose, the cold steel presses against Piedra’s upper lip. “You will start talking. Come on now. You must know something that can save your nose.” The colonial pushes the blade upward slightly, drawing a trickle of blood.

Chancellor Eldy reads General Wolcroft’s proposal and spends about twenty minutes carefully considering his reply.

General Wolcroft,
We would be happy to host your two doctors. We only want the best for this dieing man, after all. By all means, send them tonight. The Undelian corporation of T&S operates an airstrip not ten miles from the hospital where Piedra is currently being held. When the aircraft comes within 100 miles of our nation we will send two fighter jets to guide it there.

Chancellor Eldy

After sending this message Eldy emails a message to General Reart.

General, we are expecting “guests” at the 48th T&R airstrip. Make them feel “welcome”.

Meanwhile, the search and rescue helicopters approach Fortress City. They land and the unconscious president is dragged off of one of the copters by two soldiers. They make there way through the citadel, brutally transporting their valuable captive, who is starting to stir. They take her to the throne room, where the Overlord now sits alone. The soldiers throw the now conscience president into a heap at the feet of the supreme ruler of Undelia.

“You are disgraced by your own people, betrayed by your own guards and now, captured,” the Overlord says plainly. “You will now tell me why you did what you did, what your motives were and what your plans are for your future. I will then decide your fate.”

He can't possibly do something this serious! No sane nation would mutilate a prisoner! The whole world will know what happened upon my release!

"Rico Piedra, Captain, 0170941."


Meanwhile, the President of Rittia is in the throne room of the Overlord. She has heard rumors of the crazed government of Undelia. She knows explaining won't work. She looks up at him suggestively, and puts her hands on his knees. "Surely a big, strong man like yourself gets bored sitting all alone on that throne all day..."


The vehicle transporting Segui travels north on a main road. It exits periodically to refuel or pick up passengers. It is crowded, with six people in the passenger area and one in a duffel bag in back. The passengers are just beginning to complain when the rugged mountains of the north appear out of the mist. Even these hard men are struck by their beauty as clouds curl around their peaks. Within two hours, the car is parked in a thicket on the edge of a back road. The passengers cover its tracks and then set off into the woods, taking turns carrying the heavy duffel bag.

Meanwhile, in a small town south of Ozella, the lone guard at a Rittian Federal Military Reserves - Army Branch armory is barely awake in the guard shack at the front entrance. He barely notices the three large trucks approaching the front gate until they are right in front of him. He doesn't notice a man get out of the passenger side of the lead truck as it pulls up to his window. He opens the window and leans out. "I need to see some I.D., sir." The man who exited the truck comes around the front and fires twice with a silenced pistol before the dazed guard can react. He then enters the guard shack and wipes the man's blood off the windows before returning to the truck. The trucks drive up to the main storage area and park at the loading docks. The occupants of the trucks enter the building and begin loading weapons and ammunition into the trucks. Half an hour later, the trucks leave and head north. The dead guard is not discovered until the shift change three hours later. By then the trucks are well north of Ozella.

The government jet takes off from Ozella and travels at full speed towards Undelia, carrying a pilot, a copilot, and Doctors Goldsby and Dreye.

After Bots leaves, General Reart opens Chancellor Eldy’s email message, he shakes his head slowly. He can’t stand how the Chancellor uses ridiculous innuendo instead of simply saying what he wants done. “Spineless civilian,” he spats aloud. “His ridiculousness does have its advantages though,” he says to himself as he heads to the command center. Entering, he immediately orders a tech to send a coded message to the regiment that has recently garrisoned itself at the 48th T&R airstrip.

“This is General-in-Chief Reart. A Rittian aircraft will soon be arriving at the 48th T&R airstrip. Send two jets to guide them. When it lands, search the vessel and its passengers for anything suspicious, inform the doctors aboard that their Captain Piedra is dead and do your best to keep them in the area. Do not let them out of your sight. Treat them humanely. Do your best to keep them from feeling like prisoners. We may need them in them if events spiral out of control in the next few days.”

At the small airport, Captain Virt receives the message and begins carrying out his orders. Six minutes later, two DF-67s take off and head in the direction of the Rittian jet. (OOC: These are older aircraft, more suitable for the Vietnam war era, but it is an out of the way commercial airfield that was recently temporarily taken over by the military, so the likelihood that it would have state-of-the-art aircraft that quickly is pretty slim.)

At the hospital, Gralft slowly moves the blade away from Piedra’s face, leaving behind only a small cut on the pilot’s lower nose. Without saying a word he quickly drives the blade into the man’s right forearm down to the bone and pulls it out. He slams the struggling man’s head down with his free hand and brings the blade, now dripping with blood, back to its former position above the man’s upper lip.

“You will not get another chance captain. Talk,” he yells.

In the throne room the two guards that dragged the president get an enraged look on their faces. They grab her and throw her against the ground. As they are lifting their rifles to beat her the overlord calmly speaks.

“That will be enough guards. Leave us.” The guards silently depart. The overlord looks toward the president as she slowly rises to her feet.

“I apologize Ms. Droven. The people of this country can be a bit overzealous. You see, they think I am a living god. They think I am over three hundred years old. They are fools. I am the tenth overlord to rule, though the people are told that I am the same man who first separated our nation from the now abolished Empire of Vivstantinople. Only the top members of the clergy and a selected few foreign leaders know this. It is simply a means to control the populace, much the same way you used conservative politics to control your nation. That is why I offered the rebels asylum. To get you here, to make a deal. I can make you a hero again; I can restore your presidency; I can get you back to doing what you seem to love doing most. I have a plan Madame President. All I need is your cooperation and I assure you we will both profit.”