NationStates Jolt Archive

A long time ago there was a nation which had risen from the trauma of a civil war, the attacks by a terrorist organization known as Black Hand, and the terrible leadership and acting abilities of its leaders. That nation was Haraki. It grew from a tiny rogue nation into a powerhouse of military power, international clout, and spamming. However, despite the superhuman abilities of its leaders and their soldiers, it still had its downfall, as all nations tend to have. Now, many years later, it has risen, reborn. Haraki shall stand tall one more time, and it shall be remembered.





She sat in the hallway, waiting for her turn to speak. Her heart was pounding, and she shivered due to a cool breeze drifting down from the door at the far end, where the harsh sunlight was shining in from. The bulbs in the ceiling were turned off, but the natural light from outside kept the hallway far brighter than need be. It was a cloudless day, and she was amazed anyone had turned up at all. She bit her lip, running over the first lines of what she was going to say once more, then looked up as someone came trotting down the hallway towards her. She stood up eagerly, grabbing at her briefcase from beside her. “Is it time yet?” she asked eagerly.

“No, not yet, miss. Just a few minutes more.”

She nodded and sat back down in the chair, running her fingers through her hair and sighing deeply. “I’m nervous. Is that normal?” she asked the secret service agent, looking up at him. He smiled gently.

“Perfectly normal, miss. I never saw someone in this position who wasn’t.”

“How many did you ever see?” she asked in return, easing her stomach slightly to know she wasn’t alone in her position.

“You’re the first one, miss. But I bet the others were nervous too.”

Before she could respond to that, she heard her name called from outside, down the hallway slightly, and to the left, up on the stage. “I give you,” said the voice outside into a microphone, “the new prime minister of Haraki, Angela Shepherd!” A cheer rose from the crowd.

“That’s my cue,” she said, standing up and tugging on her suit jacket to make it hang properly. She picked up her briefcase and walked out into the bright sunlight, making a sharp left turn onto the stage and walking up to the podium, where the mayor of the capitol city of Kiros, Thomas Madison, turned to face her. The crowd in front of them was cheering wildly while Thomas shook her hand and then walked off the opposite side of the stage as Angela had entered from. He handed her a copy of her speech, and she placed it on the podium in front of her, wondering why she had taken her briefcase out with her. To make myself look more professional, I suppose, she thought.

“People of Kiros,” she spoke into the microphone, “I would like not to speak to you as a politician. I would rather you not doubt every word I say. Instead I shall speak to you as a citizen of Haraki, a citizen of the world.”

The crowd din’t known whether to cheer or be quiet, and honestly neither did she. A few scattered cheers went up and were hushed by those around them. She looked around the large square in front of her, at the tens of thousands turned to see her speak, buildings towering many stories up all around her, and wondered what she had gotten herself into.

“A long time ago Haraki did not exist, and we were unknown people. When we broke away from our oppressive governments, people said we would never survive, but we did. When people denounced us and even started wars with us, we stood our ground. And eventually we were respected and even revered. But then disaster struck. Like the Roman or Persian Empires, all nations must have their downfall. Ours came in the throes of apathy. Eventually no-one cared whether our nation was great any longer. We decayed in the throes of emigration, splinter states, and international pressure from the growing list of nations we had managed to anger. Now we are left with only this core land, a tiny fraction of the nation we used to be. A sort of Neo-Haraki, if you will.

“But why am I standing here, telling you things you already know? This is what is running through all of your heads. And I know the international press and delegates from other nations are here today to see me speak. I met with several of them beforehand. Every person in attendance today knows what I have just told you. Why? Because I wanted to make a point. We once were a great nation. We could be great again. We will be great again. It is only a matter of time. And so, I, as the first woman prime minister of Haraki ever, hereby pronounce a new era beginning. A second age, some may call it: A new rise to greatness for Haraki. Of course there will be those that will say it could not happen. There were those who said the Berlin Wall could never fall, or that the Third Reich could never be defeated. They are wrong. This is the dawn of a new day in all our lives.

“As a child I watched our nation crumble. Raised by my father, a staunch nationalist, I was always taught that our nation knew what was best. We had one of the best economies in the world, and maintained a radical liberal agenda. And then came the downfall. For ten years I watched our nation fall from the great state it once was. We maintained an aura of power while we were eaten away from within: by mass emigrations, quickly changing governments, and radical reforms imposed one year and revoked the next, by the next government. One socialist government was responsible for our withdrawal from SATO – a party, I might add, which has not been re-elected since – and the next regretted it deeply. One by one, our nation splintered into smaller and smaller splinter states, and for ten more years I watched this happen. I grew up with the political deadlock, then watched ten years of my life creep by as our nation was eroded like a rock in the tide. I will not allow this to happen once more. From now on our nation shall grow, not shrink.

“And so I reiterate my previous points. We were great once. We shall be great again. That is all.”

And so Angela Shepherd, the newly-elected Liberal Party prime minister of Haraki turned and walked off the stage, to the cheers of twenty thousand people. Whether her bold proclamations were true or not would be seen in the future. But for now, she had gained public support with a vastly-publicized speech, broadcast live on television and radio stations across the nation. From here on out the road would be much harder, and only time would tell if the newly-reorganized nation of Haraki could survive in the much-changed time period since her last time in the spotlight.

As she left the stage and the crowd began to disperse, the met up with her Deputy Prime Minister, Robert Gains, a man who had won public support due to his overcoming of a natural handicap: blindness. At age seven – just old enough to be totally reliant on his eyesight – he had almost drowned after falling in a river while playing in the woods behind his house, and had as a result lost his vision. This did not stop him from pursuing an active career in politics, despite never knowing what his opponents or even his allies looked like.

“How did I do?” she asked him, both nervous and confident at the same time.

“Perfect. They’ll be wondering what you were talking about all night.”

She laughed quietly, then turned to the secret service man walking up to them. “Yes?” she asked him.

“It’s time for the press conference. If you would just follow me, sir, ma’am?” he said, turning and walking away towards the doors back into the building even before waiting for them.

“Oh, yes, of course,” she replied, starting to walk after him, then turning back to Robert. “Want any help?”

“Oh no, I’m fine. I’ve walked these steps a thousand times,” he replied. “Just, um, keep talking so I know which direction to go.”

She laughed and walked up the steps back into the government buildings of Haraki, following the security and talking to Robert, who followed a few steps behind her, and a few minutes later they filed into the press room of the main government building, taking the seats reserved for prime minister and deputy prime minister in the centre of the long raised table that separated the politicians from those there to ask them questions from the national and international press.









OOC: I used to be here at least two years back. While I thought I would never get tired of it, I eventually got bored of the game and left. Just today I decided to come back and try it out again, albeit less fanatically as I did last time. Hopefully my writing skills have improved since then (Last time I was here I just posted a lot and didn’t bother actually posting content. It got me a high post count at the expense of all my posts being utter blithering nonsense). So I decided to start over. My old nation might be being resurrected and it might not, so if it doesn’t I’ll keep this one going and if it does I’ll switch over to that one. Anyone who wants to know anything can just have somebody be at the press conference. I seriously hope it does, though. I was proud I managed to have a Frightening economy while at the same time being a civil rights haven and a Scandinavian Liberal Paradise.

Okay, just so everyone is aware, Neo-Haraki was a temporary state I used to post this. My regular nation of Haraki has been resurrected and information on it can be found here (http://www.nationstates.net/haraki). Basic economic info here (http://www.pipian.com/stuffforchat/gdpcalc.php?nation=haraki).

Can't hurt to bump it.



Further OOC: Does anybody here remember Psycho Retards? That was a long time ago, but that was a damn fun time.

OOC: Nice, I like it. I'm just waiting for some more IC pots before I make some.

OOC: Oh man, it's back. Now I'm happy.

Actually, Findan, I was hoping anybody with questions (Anybody who wasn't around two years ago when I was last active) could just post as a reporter/delegate from their nation(s) with their question or asking me to explain. It was more of an "I'm back," introduction for myself than anything else.

However, I'll try and think up something to put up if nobody wants to reply as well.

“I must say, I didn’t expect such a large turnout,” Angela Shepherd remarked to Roger Gains as they walked out of the building the back way. “There were more reporters there than there were at the elections.”

“Your promises of national revival and negotiations talks with the splinter states to reconstruct Haraki have attracted a lot of attention. Many news stations are doing stories theorizing what you might have planned next,” Roger replied.

“Well, to be honest I don’t expect any of the negotiations to work, which is why I need to talk to you in private tonight…” Angela said, trailing off into silence, looking over at the security agent standing beside them, who seemed to be ignoring their conversation.

“Of course, of course,” Roger replied. “Tell you what, we can talk in your office after the party. You haven’t forgotten about the party, have you?”

“Of course not. It’s my chance to meet with any foreigners who want to meet the new leader of Haraki. Why would I miss it?”

“Good. So, I’ll see you-“ Roger began, before he was interrupted by a young man running up towards them, shouting angrily. He was somewhat short, not past twenty-five, a day’s worth of stubble congregating on his cheeks.

“Fuck you, Shepherd! You have no right to say what other nations can and can’t do! Haraki’s – Ow!”

The man was slammed to the ground by a security agent bodyslamming into him, grabbing the back of his head and holding him down while the agent beside Angela and Roger grabbed them both and rushed them back into the building and around to the front, where they were piled into a limousine along with a security agent, his hand on the handle of the handgun in his jacket pocket holster. “Sorry about that, sir, ma’am. We’ve had a lot of trouble in the past with these kinds of people. Can’t be too careful.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Angela replied, remarkably calmly. “I just wish we could clean scum like that off the streets.”

“What?” Roger replied incredulously. “I can’t believe you just said that, Angela. Everyone deserves the same respect no matter who they are. I don’t even know what just happened, but that man deserved the right to speak his mind.”

“Listen, Roger, we’ll talk about this later,” Angela said soothingly. “I have to get back and freshen up before the party. I’ll see you there, okay?”

“Okay,” Roger replied hesitantly. The tone in Angela’s voice had frightened him. This was a side of her he had never seen before, and he didn’t know what to make of it. He knew he had to consult someone, and there was only one person he could turn to. Angela left the car, and Roger turned to the driver and issued specific directions.




OOC: The party is an introduction for the foreign world to meet the new Prime Minister and deputy PM. Therefore, it’s a great place for people to come to meet and mingle openly, and speak casually to the new leaders of Haraki. Since the PM and DPM will be arriving after the party has started, if you want to send somebody just have them arrive and mingle for a post or two. Feel free to talk to Haraki Foreign Minister Jonathan Friedman until then, as he will be the only official there until the PM and DPM arrive.

Jonathan Friedman looked dismally down at his glass of red wine. It was cheap. It seemed even the government wasn’t willing to be classy these days. It cost too damn much.

Jonathan was tired. Not just tired of the day: Tired of the monotony that came with being in domestic affairs. Not to say the day hadn’t been tiring enough. He’d had to give three speeches on the new government of Haraki’s foreign policy and an impromptu hall seminar to a group of diplomats who were here tonight on what not to say to delegates from various nations. Plus the fact he was the only official minister there, which meant all the foreign negotiators wanted to speak with him. He just prayed the new Prime Minister would get there soon and end this dreaded affair. All the diplomats around him were, plainly and simply, boring the life out of him. He’d been there for an hour mingling and trying not to drink too much, a task that seemed harder and harder by the second.

With that thought, he downed his glass of wine and rose to make his way for another, only to be intercepted by a Haraki News Network reporter on the way. “Mr. Friedman! Mr. Friedman, may I have a moment of your time?”

No, you bloody well can’t. My time is private and none of your damn business. I want to get drunk. “Yeah, sure. What do you need?” he replied slowly, turning to face the eager young woman facing him, dressed in all-too-professional business attire.

“I was wondering if I could get your opinions on the outcome of the election. As I understand it, the Liberal Party won an overwhelming majority of seas in Parliament, granting you undisputed control of the country for the next few years. Why do you think this is?”

I’ve had to answer this question a thousand times today. I really don’t want to do it again. “Well, Ms…”

“Cooper. Miranda Cooper.”

“Well, Ms. Cooper, I’d have to say it’s because they agree with our policies. We’ve promised to lower taxes and government sales tax, repeal the harsh conservative bills put in place by our predecessors, increase defence spending and, what I think won us the election, up speed limits by 10 km/h.” I liked that last bit. Add a bit of humour to her boring day.

“Are you sure it’s not because of the Nationalist agenda of your Prime Minister, Ms. Shepherd?”

What? That’s a new one. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he responded nervously. Suddenly he was on the defensive, no longer the smug, secure, and above all irritated official he had been a moment ago. Truthfully, he knew exactly what she meant, but still she went on to explain it to him.

“Oh come off it, Mr. Friedman. You saw her speech this afternoon, and so did I. She describes her ‘staunch nationalist’ father as influencing her way of thinking and teaching her what’s best. She complains about splinter states and apathy. She touts the phrase ‘We were great once, we will be great again’ like a mantra. For crying out loud, I almost expected her to tell us she’d already commanded the bombing raids to start. Surely you know what I mean.”

Fucking hell, John. She’s got you and you know it. There’s no way to get out of this one. “Well, if that’s what the people wanted to hear, then that’s what she told them. You saw them cheering and applauding her. Obviously she’s just buying support among the citizens. There’s no way we’d ever consider a forceful reunification of the Haraki splinter states.”

“Yes, but-“ she began. Jonathan knew she was only going to press it further, so he suddenly rose up on the balls of his feet to look at the door as it opened.

“Oh look, there’s Angela Shepherd!” he cried out gleefully. He had just been saved by the arrival of his boss. As the reporter turned and looked towards the door, her short build hiding the prime minister through the crowds of people, Jonathan slipped behind a passing waiter and away into the crowd towards the bar, enjoying his narrow escape. Miranda Cooper turned around and saw he was gone. She sighed and made her way towards the door to talk to Angela instead.

Jonathan, several metres away, breathed out a sigh of relief, resuming his mission to make it to the bar and drink some more, especially now that the main show was here and the international press and representatives would be hounding her instead of him.

OOC: nice work. welcome back to NS. I can remeber your nation, but thats about all. anyway, seeing as how i'm wildly liberal with this nation, what do you say to an embassy exchange.
and i'll post IC tomorrow if i have the time, but i need sleep right now...

OOC: Well, technically, since I'm just ignoring the downtime and acting as though my nation always existed, we probably could say we already have an embassy. However, if not, then yes, of course an embassy exchange is welcomed. Also thanks for responding. You have no idea how hard it is to get people to listen to you when it says your join date is yesterday. They judge before they look at nation stats, I'm afraid.

Maybe I'll post a link to nation info in the first post.

Roger Gains was helped out of the limousine by the driver and helped up the stairs to the door of the small house, passing a mailbox he couldn’t read marked Wolfe. He knocked on the door, the driver waiting to see he got inside before leaving. When it was answered by a tall, handsome man who seemed weary and kind, the limousine pulled away. Jaime Wolfe smiled broadly. “Roger, nice to see you. Come on in.”

Jaime took his friend by the shoulder and helped him inside the house. “Sit down,” he said helping him into a chair in the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Angela,” Roger replied, his sightless eyes beneath the sunglasses he wore staring past Jaime’s left shoulder.

“What about her?” Jaime asked, sitting down in a chair opposite Roger.

“I was talking to her today after a protestor was shouting at us, and … well, to be honest, it scared me what she was saying. It was about cleaning scum off the streets and … Well, it was astonishing. She seemed like a whole different person.”

“Eh, it’s probably nothing,” Jaime responded, standing up and walking through the dining room to a closet, pulling it open and bringing out a tuxedo, which he put on, looked in the mirror and frowned at, took off again and replaced with a suit jacket. “She’s probably just stressed. I imagine she’s been under a lot of pressure lately, what with the end of the campaign and all. Give her a few days.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Roger replied, seeming glad and pensive at the same time. “I hate to be a hindrance, but do you think we could call a taxi to take me to the after-election party tonight? I’m afraid my ride left without me, and I’m already late.”

“Tell you what,” Jaime replied. “I’ll give you a ride, since I’m heading up there anyway.”

“What? You’re going to it?” Roger asked incredulously. “Forgive me for asking, but why?”

“Well, it’s customary for at least one former prime minister to attend the post-election banquet, and since Bradley’s out of the country and Curtis is dead, I figured it may as well be me.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Roger replied. “Thank you very much.”

“Don’t worry about it. But we should leave now. We’re already late, and I bet they’ve started the speeches already.”

He walked over to where Roger was sitting and showed him the way out again, flicking the kitchen light off and locking the door behind him, then making his way down towards a high-end silver Mercedes sedan parked in the driveway. He opened the passenger door and helped Roger in, then made his way around and got in his own side, backing out and driving away towards the government buildings.

“So, how was the campaign? I followed the issues, but to be honest, I wanted to leave politics for a reason,” Jaime said.

“It was okay, I guess. I’ve never ran as Deputy Prime Minister before, so I can’t say. It was very stressful, but I suppose that comes with the territory.

Jaime chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

They drove on in silence for a few minutes more before Roger spoke again. “Jaime, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time now.”

“Go ahead, Roger.”

“Why did you change your name? I know it’s a small and relatively unimportant thing, but it’s still a significant step away from the way things used to be. I don’t understand why you did it.”

Jaime sat there for a minute, trees passing by on the boulevard outside. A Ferrari zipped past on the other side of the street, clearly going at least 30 km/h over the supposed speed limit. Then Jaime sighed and said “Well, I suppose it comes with a new time in my life. I was sick and tired of how my life was. I spent most of my life fighting various people, either politically or physically. I was betrayed by my best friend, and almost died a number of times. I suppose I just wanted to put all that behind me. It also marked my leave as a significant politician. I no longer want to run a country or anything of the sort. I don’t even want a seat in parliament. I just want to be me. Sure, I still attend diplomatic functions, but that’s because of the friends I made during my time in office.”

Roger waited a second to be sure Jaime was finished, then began to question him. “But what about-“

Jaime could tell what he was about to say, and cut him off before he could say it. “Hey, we’re here. I’ll just park us here and we can make or way in the back so we don’t disturb anything that’s going on.”

He pulled into a parking space normally reserved for foreign dignitaries and the two of them got out. Jaime locked the car and opened the back door to the building for Roger, and they walked down a hallway together that led to the back entrance to The Ballroom, a large room designed for diplomatic functions. Jaime took a look at the schedule tacked to a bulletin board beside the back door, noting the times for the function: First a period of mingling and conversing with the newly-elected leaders of the nation, then a state-served dinner, and then more mingling and speeches. Jaime sighed. He’d been here before, in this same place, doing the same thing, twice: Once when he took office six years ago, and once when Bradley Albany had done the same four years after that, prior to the vote of no confidence that toppled his government and brought on Shepherd’s Liberal Party.

He opened the door and showed Roger in and to a seat at the side of the room, then made his way into the crowd, looking around for anyone it was urgent for him to speak to, all the while making reasons to himself why he had come here in the first place, all to try and conceal the true reason from himself.

OOC: sorry, too much work, and my head is killing me, just take it that my ammbassador, one Sir Harry Greenwald (use him in RPness if you want, he's blunt, but he'll try not to offend nyone too much...) goes along.

oh, and i always try to be nice to newbies, if i find out they're reborns then i try to act the way i used to to them, if i can remember...
anyway, to work...

“Ma’am … Miss Shepherd, Ma’am … Could I have a word?” Miranda Cooper shouted, rising up onto her toes to try and see through to the new prime minister, who was swamped with reporters and delegates requesting to speak with her. Most were from domestic news agencies, with some from foreign or international ones. Several diplomats were also clamouring for attention, handshakes and introductions. The budding HNN reporter finally gave up and went away to where she saw Roger Gains sitting at the side of the room, no-one trying to talk to him at all. She made her way over to him, followed by her cameraman.

“Mr. Gains?”

“Yes? Who is that?”

“My name’s Miranda Cooper. I’m a Haraki News Network reporter, and I’m here to cover the event. Do you have anything you’d like to say?”

“I don’t think so. Do you have any questions?” Roger asked her in return.

“I had some questions I asked Mr. Friedman, but he seemed reluctant to answer. Do you mind if I ask you as well?”

“Sure, go ahead. I reserve the right to waive ‘no comment’ though.”

Miranda smiled. “Of course.”

“Were there an surprises in the election results? The Liberal Party won an overwhelming majority of seats. Was this a surprise?”

“No, Ms. Cooper, I have to say I don’t think it was. We were making promises we knew we could keep and our opponents couldn’t match. As an example, our predecessors’ recently-implemented key policy of expansion of the nation’s road and highway systems has only caused further construction and delays for people, and this simply turned into more voter tension that pulled people towards us. It was a short-term boost in votes, but it definitely pulled through.”

“You have to admit, though, that should have only granted you a regular majority, while in fact your party secured almost three quarters of the seats, leaving the Conservative Party with just under a quarter and the rest split between the minor parties. This is the largest margin of victory in the past half-century of Harakian politics, since the astonishing result of Prime Minister Christopher Whitworth’s campaign.”

“I really don’t know. Perhaps our supporters were fed up with Mr. Albany’s policies and this just pushed them over the edge. The fact that we even managed to pass a no-confidence motion in parliament last term was a miracle, the result of an alliance with the Socialists, Green Party and Communists. I can’t say on this one.”

Miranda was hesitant about her next question. The Deputy-Prime Minister had been much more honest with her than the Foreign Minister, and it seemed as if he genuinely had an interest in what he was telling her, rather than just brushing her off, so almost considered not asking him the next question. Had she not, her life would have ended up very different.

“I asked Mr. Friedman this same question, but … Do you think it could have been caused by the extreme nationalist agenda of your prime minister, Ms. Shepherd?”

Roger immediately tensed up. “No comment,” he muttered between gritted teeth, his sightless eyes not giving away his emotions, that now he was even more frightened that someone else had noticed it other than him. “However, let me give you my card …” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a personal business card after half a minute of searching. It was slightly crumpled but included his cell phone and home phone numbers, something his regular business cards did not. “Feel free to give me a call anytime.”

Miranda Cooper understood exactly what he meant when he told her that. She opened her mouth to begin asking him a new, similar question when she was interrupted by Jonathan Friedman walking in beside her. “Excuse me. Roger, is this reporter bothering you?”

“No, we were just finishing up. Thank you, Ms. Cooper,” Roger said amiably, nodding his head directly at the sound of Miranda Cooper’s voice, who took this as her cue to exit and did so. Jonathan turned to Roger and raised an eyebrow, a gesture he knew Roger could not see.

“What did she want?”

“Oh, the usual,” Roger replied. “Asking if I thought there was anything special about the election results. I told her the usual: Past governments’ failures.”

“Ah, okay,” Jonathan said, nodding his head. “I’ve just been talking to Sir Harry Greenwald from No State At All, and he offers his congratulations on our victory.”

“Oh. Tell him thank you very much,” Roger said, smiling. But at the same time he was uneasy. There was a heavy feeling in the air, one he usually associated with dread. As Jonathan walked away, there was a call to come down the hallway to the dining room for dinner. Roger stood up, grabbing his white cane from where it leaned against his chair, and looked around, trying to remember which way t was to the dining room.

“May I help you, Mr. Gains?”

Roger didn’t recognize the voice of the waitress who was offering her help to him, but he smiled and nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Miss … Sorry, I don’t know your name,” he said, shaking his head foolishly.

“Just call me Anna, Mr. Gains.”

“Thank you very much, Anna.”

She reached out and grabbed the elbow of his right arm, leading him through the crowd and down the hall towards the dining room, where several long table were arranged: One for the press, and two for the foreign dignitaries and internal ministers. The press barely all fit at their table, but the other two were all arranged beforehand and fit perfectly. There was no food on the tables yet, but as the dignitaries were seated waiters and waitresses came to ask them for their choice of drink for the meal: Expensive wines and drinks of all sorts, from one of the finest collections in all of Haraki.

Jaime Wolfe was seated between the Minister of the Interior and the major of Kiros, and made idle talk with them while his glass of what he had ordered as ‘Your best red wine’ arrived. Once it had he sipped it and decided it was definitely far from their best wine. He turned his head slightly to the left and nodded his head at something the Minister was saying, then laughed politely at a joke made by a minister of parliament from across the table.

Now I remember why I considered not coming tonight, he thought. These things are always dreadfully boring. I hope the food arrives soon so that these peopels’ mouths are filled with things other than endless words.

He nodded again, acting attentive for the benefit of those around him, and responded to what the Minister had been saying with a “Yes, I agree. High tax rates and extensive social programs definitely work best to centralize the government, keep power in our hands and enforce government regulations, but don’t you ever think it bad that 85% of Haraki’s population is in subsidized housing? The fact that our tax rates are in the 90%s keeps the government running and provides us with good social security, education, welfare, healthcare, and all those good things, but it means people can’t save up money, can’t buy what they want. Don’t you think that’s a little bit extreme?”

The Liberal MP from across the table chimed in. “According to polls I’ve conducted in my riding in the north end of the city, only 1 in 3 people think the way the country is run, with exorbitant tax rates, is the best way to do it. Just something to think about.”

The Minister shot the MP a dirty look, as though he was siding against him and with some unseen enemy. “But we subsidize everything. Food, housing, transportation… The only people not living in subsidized housing are those who have paid off their houses, and I haven’t seen any complaints recently. Besides, these high tax rates are the result of our predecessor Conservative government’s policies.”

“Not so,” Jaime cut in. “The tax rates were in place before the Conservatives took power. And although high tax rates mean we can afford to offer the best possible services for our nation, it also means people have very little freedom of action. Their houses are subsidized by the government. Should they choose to build their own house, they can’t afford to-”

“Ah, but that is also subsidized,” the Minister cut in, looking as though he had won a major victory over Jaime.

“I was citing an untrue example,” Jaime gave him. “But it was just an example. I’m not saying we should cut tax rates too much, but I’m saying a slightly lower tax rate – Say, 85% rather than 94% - would more than double the citizens’ actual income, without taking too much of a burden off the government itself.”

The minister looked staggered. “Mr. Wolfe, do you realize how much money the government would lose per year were we to cut tax rates by even that much? The populace would not stand for it! All our social policies would take massive cuts! The citizens would be outraged!”

“For some time, yes,” Jaime conceded. “But over time we would recover – Say, several years – and, just in time to get re-elected, the citizens would much appreciate their new tax rates.”

The minister looked about to say something, when Jaime suddenly looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Ah good, the food’s here.”

The meal was finished. There had been five successive courses, custom-tailored to the tastes of the most important of guests, most notable the new prime minister. She herself led a group of ministers, MPs, dignitaries and reporters back into the ballroom, finishing a joke about her current policies with a “But sadly, the highways all led to Rome, not Haraki.” Her entourage laughed heartily, although at least half of them were faking it, including Jonathan Friedman himself.

Roger Gains followed along slowly, some distance behind her, helped along by the waitress Anna, who had also served him his food, acting unusually attentive to all he had said but never chiming in. Jaime Wolfe made his way slowly, sticking to the right-hand side of the corridor leading between them, carrying his glass of wine with him, mentally preparing himself for the speeches he would have to hear, and also thinking of what he would say should he be called on to make one himself.

Miranda Cooper trailed behind, having been unsuccessful in her attempts to talk to ‘important’ people on the short trip between rooms. Her cameraman followed along, the camera resting on his shoulder, turned off for the moment.

Once back in the ballroom, a man in a tuxedo went to the raised podium at the front of the room, speaking into the microphone built into it, his voice amplified from speakers all around the room. “We’re about to begin the speeches. Prime Minister Shepherd’s speech will be third and last, following speeches by Deputy Prime Minister Roger Gains and Foreign Minister Jonathan Friedman. There are refreshments at the back for any who wish it or arrived after the dinner.” He then left the podium and helped lead Roger to the podium. Miranda Cooper got her cameraman to begin taping it as she sat down at the side and closed her eyes for a minute to rest up. Roger began speaking with a short policy-setting statement about public transportation systems being expanded to aid the environment, as the crowd milled around in front of him.

Jaime Wolfe stepped out onto the balcony off the side of the building, looking out over the large park that neighboured the main parliament building in Kiros. The park, prior to the construction of the large building, had been much larger, but a space had been needed for the construction of the building following the transfer of the capitol from Atherton to Kiros after Atherton had seceded in a forceful and dramatic seizure of power by a local socialist party in the capitol while most of the government was across the country, and the proclamation of the Socialist State of Atherton in and around the city. The people didn’t seem to care, as the powerbase of the new nation expanded rapidly and even reached the coast. This had been near the beginning of Bradley Albany’s two-year term in office, and he had done nothing about it. This was part of what led to widespread defection from his party and the no-confidence vote that unseated the Conservatives several years later.

As Jaime stood there, leaning on the railing of the balcony, he sighed and sipped his wine. I remember the old days, he thought, when the world would have accepted us so much as sending troops to quell an uprising like that without even a second glance. Now our prime minister was too afraid to even attempt to resolve it diplomatically.

He breathed deeply, looking out into the night sky. Traffic honked horns, birds flew past, and couples walked together on the paths several stories below him. He looked down at the trees and foliage shielding the ground from his vision and sighed deeply. I suppose in a way, I miss those days. Oh yes, progress, progress and more progress, I suppose, but still things were simpler. There was less to worry about.

Roger’s speech finished inside to polite applause and Jonathan Friedman took the stage. Jaime ignored it. These speeches were unimportant. They always were. Albany’s had been some of the most dreadfully boring times he’d ever sat through, full of dry, unfunny humour and bad puns, along with some genuinely terrible policy decisions. One of these days I’ll just stop coming to these things, Jaime thought. One of these days. One of these days I’ll forget about politics altogether and make my informal retirement good.

Sadly, such a dream was far from what would actually end up happening in the near future.

Jonathan Friedman stepped down from the podium to a half-hearted round of applause from those present. His speech had been less than inspired, going on and on about how Haraki’s foreign policy needed to be overturned now that the new government was in place. Very few people had paid attention during his entire speech. However, now Angela Shepherd took the podium, her eyes gleaming with eagerness as she prepared for what she was about to tell the world.

“Greetings, fellow members of Harakian Parliament, reporters, and those representing other nations, and welcome here. I’m afraid I take the stage here tonight with a heavy heart. My heart is heavy because the nation I love is declining. The great nation of Haraki has been declining for some time now, and it has only been sped along by our previous governments. All our previous governments.”

There were murmurs in the crowd at this. Many felt the governments before Albany’s had been distinct steps forward in the history of the nation.

“But quiet!” she shouted, raising her hands above the crowd, her palms flat down as she spread her arms wide. “Because of the failures of Bradley Albany’s government, our very capitol city was stolen from us by unjust communist scum who sought the very destruction of our way of life! Because of the failures of Jaime Wolfe, our nation was terrified by those seeking to turn us against each other, leading to the secession of large tracts of land from Haraki. Because of the failures of those before him, now we are left a quarter of our greatest size and a tenth of our greatest power. We are at our lowest state of readiness since before the founding of NATO.

“The first step in our quest to regain Haraki’s greatness is the opening of diplomatic relations with those nations which were once part of our great country. Already diplomats from Haraki have been dispatched to the Socialist State of Atherton to begin reunification talks, and similar offers have been sent to the other two main breakaway states, Lorishan and Ferria*. With these victories under our belts, we shall be on the path to greatness once more, and our nation shall be undefeatable once more. If all four Harakian nations were to be reunited, the world would tremble in fear of our might and power! And the new Harakian government is willing to go to any lengths to accomplish that goal.”

“Bearing in mind Haraki’s … revival, you might say, I have taken the liberty of securing a deal to purchase one hundred and sixty new TSF-620 air superiority fighter planes, 60 of which will fly off of aircraft carriers, including the currently under-construction super-heavy carrier HNS Immortal…”

Her speech went on, praising Haraki and detracting from Haraki’s opponents in any respects. However, the audience was captivated. None of the MPs could remember a time when a Prime Minister’s ‘Ballroom Speech’ had been so serious and heavyhearted. Usually this was a time for celebration, not an announcement of military buildup. As she continued on to tell the national news networks about Vice-Admiral Al Lambert’s current peacekeeping mission in the nation of Canada-Quebec, they were astonished. Miranda Cooper simply stood there nodding her head, as if reassuring what she had been saying and asking. She managed to catch Jonathan Friedman’s eye and shot him an I told you so glare. He looked somewhat sheepish but also as if he had known about this all along. Roger Gains simply sat there, no emotion showing on his face, as he listened to the person he trusted probably above all others go so radically against the views she had expressed during the election and ever since they had met years earlier, and so frequently deny her own ideals that he wondered if it was in fact the same Angela Shepherd, or if the nation had elected someone different and neglected to tell him.

Jaime Wolfe was probably the only person in the entire room not transfixed to her speech, as he was out on the balcony not hearing a word she was saying. Since the din had died down from inside, he knew something important was happening. Frankly, I’d rather miss it, he thought. Politics isn’t my concern anymore.

He simply stood there, leaning against the railing and looking out at the park below him, for quite some time.







*Not real NS nations, these are complete fabrications for the purpose of the story/RP.

Angela Shepherd stepped down from the podium having just pledged to lower Harakian taxes by 5% to a flat tax of 89%, which would involve cuts to subsidies to corporations operating from the splinter states over all other social programs, and cuts to education, welfare and social security to afford the lower taxes and higher defence spending. Once she was done speaking, there was a moment of awkward silence, as the audience did not know whether or not to applaud such a bizarre reversal of tradition. It was not until Jonathan Friedman started clapping his hands to get the crowd going that there was a weak and brief round of applause. One of the organizers came to the podium and thanked everyone for attending the inauguration party, and that it was finished. The crowd slowly dispersed, with Miranda Cooper trying to get a word from many different people and usually failing. Jaime Wolfe stayed on the balcony for some time before leaving, after the rest of the crowd had gone. He looked about for Roger Gains to give him a drive home, but couldn’t find him, so he simply left and trusted the government to find a way.

At the same time as Jaime was going home, Roger was having the rudest shock of his life. He, Angela Shepherd and Jonathan Friedman were standing in a conference room, which may as well have been a war room. Maps of old Haraki, new Haraki and all three major splinter states were laid out, with troops deployments shown on them and lists of military figures abounding. Angela turned to the other two. “It’s time to unveil what the High Command and I have been thinking up,” she said. “Now that we have an overwhelming majority government, we can do whatever we want. Roger, John … I want your support on this.”

Roger was extremely uneasy. Jonathan was more laid back. He shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“Haraki has entered diplomatic relations with Atherton, Lorishan and Ferria. Reunification talks, to recreate the old Haraki. We’ve promised to listen to their demands, which is a load of bullshit, and we think the people under these regimes have had enough. They’re missing the democratic rule of the Harakian parliament, and we think they’re ready for reunification. Thus, we will have overwhelming support from the populaces in the nations we’re targeting, as they’ve gone from a democratic system to a complete dictatorship in one case, a supposed-communism in one, and a slightly looser warlord state in another, where they keep track of all the people in the country at all times to prevent dissention.”

“So … What are you saying, Angela?” Roger asked nervously.

“I’m saying our government is going to be remembered for reuniting Haraki. Gentlemen, the surge of nationalism we were elected on following Bradley Albany’s failure will take us through this whole … process … and give us another ten years in office. The people will love us for reuniting the nation,” Angela said. She was desperate. She really did want these two men on her side. They were her closest friends.

“Angela, what makes you think these nations will respond to diplomacy?” Roger asked. “As you’ve said, the people may want reunification, but the people in charge like their power. If diplomatically reunified, they will lose all that power. Would you give up your seat as Prime Minister just because the head of the Socialist State of Atherton asked you to? No fucking way you would, Angela, and you know that. You don’t expect diplomacy to work, I can read that on your face without even being able to see it. It’s in your voice, Angela. You’re planning something else.”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Jonathan threw into the conversation. “I know what Angela means by the nationalist reunification getting us ten more years in office. The people would love it. They would love us. The problem is, I’m with Roger on the difficulty. We would not be able to accomplish this diplomatically, Ann.”

Angela dropped her voice. She would have looked around had she not already manually disabled the video camera and multiple bugs in the room. “To be honest, I don’t expect diplomacy to work. But we will reunite this nation. By force if necessary. This is why I have increased the defence budget. This is why I have ordered fighter planes. This is why I am prepared for war with our enemies. We will conquer these nations, gentlemen, and the people will love us for it.”

Jonathan smiled a very small smile. “I have to say, Ann, I thought you might have been being a bit naïve when you brought up diplomacy. Now I see I was wrong.” He grabbed her hand and shook it. “I’m in.”

“I’m not,” Roger said simply. “What? You plan on violating the sovereign rights of three nations just to get re-elected? That seems wrong, Angela.”

“You said it yourself, Roger,” Angela said. “Those in power want to stay in power, even at the cost of our enemies.”

“Yes, but they are not our enemies!” Roger almost shouted.

Angela laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you feel that way. The High Command is all in favour. They think, to quote James Madison, that this will be ‘a matter of walking’, and I agree with them. A matter of walking and watching the enemy lay down their arms in front of us. We bring in the soldiers, pardon them because you can’t blame someone for being drafted, imprison the leaders and we have our ten years of political hegemony. And with that much time on our hands, I imagine we could find a lot more to exercise our newfound power.”

Roger shrugged off her hand. “I’m sorry, Ann. I can’t be in favour of this. And I never will be.”

With that, he turned and walked out the door of the room, fumbling to find the doorknob and making his way down the hall slowly, his white cane tapping against the walls of the hallway as he made his way to the elevator. Angela turned to Jonathan. “It’s okay, John. We can still do this without Roger.”

Jonathan Friedman nodded. “I know. I know you’re right. We can quadruple our power base and economy and maintain political domination by the Liberal Party for a long time … What do we have to lose?”

They both grinned and turned to the maps and documents, looking to see what would have to happen next.

The next day, Angela Shepherd stepped up behind a podium to speak, in front of a crowd of thousand of people, with press – held off by a ring of security – up at the front and cheering supporters further back. She raised her hands for quiet. “People of Haraki,” she called out. “It is time for words to become actions. For some time now I have been praising us and promising the return of Haraki to power. I am standing here now, today, to tell you that that dream shall become a reality. The government of Haraki has entered negotiations with the three splinter states of Atherton, Lorishan and Ferria to bring them back into the fold and make them part of Haraki again. Reunification talks, if you will call them.

“Haraki has no real quarrel with these nations. The people in them were unwillingly sucked into these unstable defector states, by the governments that defected. In fact, the nation of Atherton – named after Atherlon, our former capitol, which they had the gall to rename when they broke away – had to close its borders two weeks after the breakaway to prevent the mass flight of refugees back to Harakian territory. This from a so-called ‘Socialist’ state.

“So we have entered talks with them to reunite the four nations whose borders make up Haraki and become the great power we have always been meant to be. From the monarchy we were not two decades ago to the nation we are now, following parliament’s decision to be a full-fledged democracy, we have grown a lot. Our population skyrocketed, much of it due to immigration, and our diplomatic presence on the world was all-but unparalleled. It is time to bring these glorious times back to the nation. Long live Haraki! Long live our glorious nation! Thank you.”

She stepped down from the podium to thunderous applause from the crowd, and many flashes from the cameras of the eager press. And in his house, Roger Gains listened to the speech and shook his head. It was all a lie. The talks had begun, but they would get nowhere, and she was preparing for war. He sighed. The people were eating out of the palm of her hand, as though she were a poet, when in fact she was simply surfing a wave of nationalism which, he hoped, would soon crash down on her head. And the others simply went along with her. Friedman especially.

In the parliament meeting that morning, the Liberal government had overwhelmed the semi-rightist Harakian Democratic Party to open talks for reunification. The National Party, which were the ultra-rightists, had surprisingly voted with the Liberals, although their two seats in Parliament made no difference. The Communist party had voted with the decision, and the leftist Green Party and ultra-leftist Socialist party had voted with the HDP against it. Their combined seats were not enough to ensure victory, and they had been overwhelmed by a 3:1 majority. The talks had already begun when she gave the speech.

She hadn’t revealed to the nation, or to Parliament, that her plans were not of diplomacy at all, but really of conquest. He hadn’t the guts to do it himself, and merely hoped he managed to raise them before the talks ended in disaster for the splinter states.


*



Angela Shepherd turned to the waitress, Anna, who had helped Roger the night before. They were alone in her office, and Anna was no longer dressed as a waitress. Instead, she was wearing grey business attire, and carrying a briefcase. “You’re sure he said nothing else?” Angela asked suspiciously. Anna nodded.

“It’s all in my report, Ma’am. He said nothing to do with suspiciousness of the affair, or any criticisms of the new policies. He seemed quite quiet but resolute. It’s all in my report,” she said, indicating a document she had laid on the desk when she walked in.

“Thank you, Anna. I’m sure we will have need of you in the future. Roger’s … Well, he’s not going along as much as I thought he might have. The new policies, I think they’re a bit much for him. Honestly, I’d rather he were on my side, but if need be it’s best to keep an eye on him. Prevent him from doing anything he might … regret later.”

“Ma’am?” Anna inquired.

“You know what I mean, Anna,” Angela said, giving her a devastating look as she rose and moved to the window. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Yes, but … Ma’am, I understood my mission was to observe him. On orders straight from the director, I might add.”

“Yes, well Roger’s been acting strange over the past two days,” Angela answered. “I’m worried he might do something irrational, such as run to the press with fearmongering stories. Just keep an eye on him. Any behaviour to indicate this will be reported to me immediately. Don’t even bother making an appointment. All evidence is to the contrary at the moment. Roger is a rational man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Anna responded, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She saluted, and walked out the door. Angela stayed at the window, looking out it at a couple several stories down in the park walking along the path hand in hand and occasionally stopping to share a kiss behind the trees, to the disapproving looks of those older than them walking along the path.

“Roger … I hope you don’t make me do something I would regret later,” she mused to herself, looking back at her desk at a picture of the two of them, her arm around his shoulder, both laughing. She was looking straight at the camera, while he was staring off into the distance with sightless eyes. She sighed as she sat back down, pulling a bottle of single malt scotch whiskey from the bottom-left hand drawer and pouring herself some. She raised it to the portrait of the first, latest and only Socialist prime minister ever, Curtis LeMay. “Your good health,” she muttered, downing the scotch in a single go. “I bet you never had these problems.”

LeMay had died in a car accident one month before the election in which his government had been toppled in favour of Jaime Wolfe’s. The first prime minister, Chris Ryan, had served eight years before Curtis served his two and Jaime was then elected for four. Curtis had resigned after a scandal Haraki’s resignation from both SATO and NATO. Although the scandal itself – Something involving misappropriation of funds – had probably been untrue, it had been enough to make him resign his government and call an election, in which Jaime’s government was successful.

Chris Ryan and Curtis LeMay were both dead, along with the King of Haraki who had preceded Chris. It seemed a bad streak in the histories of the leaders of Haraki.

“No! I won’t stand for it!” shouted the delegate from Atherlon. “We are a sovereign nation and will not settle for this … this … subjugation from you, those we broke away from to be free of!”

“But you have to concede that your people are in favour of reunification,” Angela replied. “There have been protests against your current ruler, only recently, and in several major cities. Albeit, these protests were attended by very few people, but that’s because of-“

“Because they are a minority!” the delegate shouted triumphantly, thrusting a single finger into the air as if this was the finest conclusion in the world. “Our people are happy as they are.”

“As I was saying, that is because of their fear of your military. Your armed forces have broken up protests before when they got too big, and threatened to be an actual force for change.”

“They were riots!” the delegate spluttered, saliva landing on the table. Jonathan Friedman turned his face away slightly in disgust. “Our armed forces broke up rioters! It’s illegal!”

“They were peaceful protests,” Angela replied, placing a lot of emphasis on the word ‘peaceful’. She looked down the table at the delegates from Lorishan and Ferria as well. “And that goes for all of you. Pro-Haraki and pro-democracy protests have been put down by your militaries when they began actually making an impact on those who attended. In several cases you actually fired into crowds. This is unacceptable. You are supposed to represent your people, not your government, and your people want this badly. They want to be part of Haraki.”

“This is a boldfaced lie,” responded the quite-calm delegate from Ferria, his hands folded in front of him and his eyes half-closed. “Our people are quite happy as they are. You misrepresent pro-democracy riots. We have democracy. Our people simply want the freedom to start other parties, as currently we only have two.”

“Yes, but both your parties are puppet parties of the real government,” Jonathan threw in. “Just as an example that you really cannot deny, you claim to be in a position of power, and were sent by your government, yet you have no affiliation with either party. How do you answer to that?”

The delegate fell silent for a moment, thinking. “These demonstrations are no indication of the feeling of the Ferrian people,” he responded slowly and pointedly. “They are perfectly happy living in our current society.”

“Where you have a two-party system and both parties have the same views. Where all able bodied men in your country can be issued uniforms and assault rifles within two days, against their will? Where the extent of your political and civil freedoms is the right to go to the corner store and buy a chocolate bar? I don’t know anyone who would be happy under those conditions,” Jonathan retorted, in an icy tone. His eyes were glaring, almost as if he was trying to aggravate the delegate.

The Ferrian man’s eyes blazed with fury upon hearing this. “This … This is an outrage,” he seethed. “You have no right to invite us to your nation for peace and reconciliation talks, and then insult our form of government! There will be no deals now. None. You have insulted our pride and our dignity, and we will never forget either.”

With that he rose and stormed his way out of the meeting room. The Atherlonian delegate rose and walked to the door, turning over his shoulder to say “There will be no reunification. Not with Atherlon,” before walking out the door, never once looking back.

The delegate from Lorishan was left alone in the meeting room along with the Harakian officials lining the other side of the table, making him outnumbered four to one. “I think there may be a chance for reunification,” he said quietly. He was balding, and had a tired and worried expression on his face. “With Lorishan, at least.” He reached under the table and pulled his briefcase up onto the table in front of him.

As he spoke the words, the others drew in their breath unconsciously and waited for him to continue speaking, which he did. “As you know, the nation was originally founded in response to poor decisions made by a Conservative government. As the decisions made by his government affected the entire nation, they especially made ours worse, by worsening the economy in the provinces that broke away as Lorishan, and allowing manufacturing industries to move their factories to our area for cheaper labour. His change of minimum wage laws and lack of any right to tariffs from province to province allowed that, so we defected to prevent the terrors that this would bring from befalling us. We knew they would come to our provinces, put our workers out of business and re-employ them in worse jobs with worse benefits and worse pay. This was one of the main reasons for our breakaway. Now that those policies have been repealed, we can open talks again. Without a doubt, life was better for our citizens when they were part of Haraki rather than part of Lorishan. I think there is hope for these talks. I will be staying in Kiros for a week for us to continue these talks, but I think we have carried on far enough for today. Don’t you agree?” he asked, looking around the table. The others nodded, and he carried on “Then I shall see you all tomorrow. Goodbye for now.”

And with that he placed papers on the table back into his briefcase, closed it, and walked out the door. Angela turned to give Jonathan a meaningful expression and within five minutes they were both meeting in her office. He looked around anxiously for microphones, but she waved him away. “Don’t worry, there are none. I’ve checked, thoroughly.

“Now, on to business. I didn’t expect this proposal from Lorishan. They’re actually willing to go along with our talks in order to reunify for the good of their people. I can’t believe it. I got a response as expected from the other two delegates, which means we can carry on with Phase 2 in those situations. We just have to wait for the protests to grab hold, and they will, and we’re golden.”

Jonathan nodded. “You have a definite point. But maybe should we wait until reunification talks with Lorishan are over before beginning the forceful reunifications with the other two.”

Angela nodded. “It depends how long we need to be in a state of military readiness. What ships are in port?”

“Most of them. The Kite, the Athena and the Firzha are all out of port returning from Canada-Quebec after that incident, and a taskforce including the Arkia, Wasteland, Dragoon, Fortune and Shrike is a week out returning from a routine practice patrol. Mock battles, engagements, pursuits, you know. That sort of thing.”

Angela nodded. “Okay, good. Once they get back, rearm and refuel themselves, we prepare for war. With Atherlon first, then with Ferria second. If talks with Lorishan haven’t finished by the time we are prepared, well … Too bad.”

The corners of Jonathan’s mouth turned up as he nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean.”

They smiled and she poured a small glass of single-malt scotch for Jonathan and a slightly larger one for herself. They clinked glasses together triumphantly, grinned, and drank.

“So you see, as the pro-business pro-free trade laws have been repealed since our splintering, we see no good reason for us to remain an independent state,” the delegate continued. “Our economy is worse than that of Haraki, our currency is worth less. We have less socio-economic programs than those here, making life worse for those in our nation, and we have a smaller GDP meaning we have less international clout and can afford less as a government. Combine that with the overwhelming urge of our citizens to reunify with Haraki and you have a lot of good reasons for us to go along.”

It was the third day of talks with Lorishan, and they were progressing excellently. The leader of the nation, President George Ross, was flying in the next day to continue with the talks more formally. Already they had established the level of autonomy within Haraki that the reunified provinces would have, laws for the integration of the two economies gradually, and ways for those in Lorishan to switch over to Haraki Dollars from their current currency. All those among many other decisions. Really all that was left was for it to be finalized and carried through with, and the two nations would be one again.

On the international front, the stormclouds over Ferria and Atherlon were only getting worse. They had had a buffer state in between them in Lorishan, and with that potential ally gone they were left on their own, isolated from each other. This made all hopes of an effective alliance all-but impossible, if a massive column of Harakian territory was driven between them. Thus, they had issued everything in their arsenal of words except direct threats to Lorishan, and especially to the leaders. They had called President Ross ‘two-faced’, ‘a traitor’, ‘misguided’, ‘an idiot’, ‘kidnapped and replaced with a clone’, and various other nasty things.

Atherlon had ordered fleet practices for its small brown-water fleet, in hopes to try scare tactics against the Harakian fleets. Their tiny fleet of several outdated frigates, destroyers, several cruisers and one old battlecruiser – The AMSS Vengeance – which they had purchased years earlier, were conducting operations just outside Atherlonian waters, into international waters, and were passed by by the Harakian taskforce composed of two battleships and three aircraft carriers returning from mock war procedures. The Atherlonian fleet was humbled by the passing Harakians and retreated to port, deciding on a brown-water doctrine for the future, deciding on preying on shipping and any amphibious assault vessels that, they feared, may have attempted a landing on their shores. The Ferrians, in similar fashion, ordered large-scale mobilization of the airforce in practice drills. Many outside sources claimed the leaders of these nations were being far too paranoid in their large-scale deployments, but the leaders simply mumbled something about always being prepared under their breath in response.

On the fifth day of the reunification talks, when President Ross had arrived and approved all policies proposed to date, the meeting was just reconvening for the day. Ross and the ambassador had arrived in their car, Angela Shepherd and Jonathan Friedman had arrived from their homes, and everyone was just getting settled in and prepared for another day of talks when an aide rushed into the meeting room and whispered something in Angela Shepherd’s ear. She nodded grimly and stood up. “It seems we have a situation on our hands,” she said pointedly, inwardly triumphant, as she walked to a TV monitor set up in one corner of the room, suspended on an angle from the ceiling. She pushed the power button and the screen instantly flicked to life, switched to the Haraki News Network, HNN. She stood and watched it for a moment, then walked back and took her seat, turning it around to face the television. Others craned their necks or turned their own sats to face it.

“And breaking news today, massive protests were held in the nations of Ferria and Atherlon last night and this morning. These are the largest protests ever in any Harakian or formerly-Harakian nation. Over a million people turned up to each of the two major ones, one in Atherlon, the capitol of Atherlon, and one in Caltis, the capitol of Ferria. The protests began around eight o’clock last night and carried on until this morning, when government military forces arrived and forcefully dispersed all protests in both nations. Shots were fired by military forces, and there have been fatalities. We have HNN reporter Miranda Cooper live on the scene in Atherlon. Miranda?”

The view on the screen switched from that of the news anchor to that of Miranda Cooper in the streets of Atherlon. The city was dead silent. Bodies lay around the street behind her, and she was standing without a microphone, nursing her left arm, where blood was soaking her shirt around the elbow. Jonathan’s eyes opened wide as he watched the woman he had talked to less than a year earlier try and speak on camera, clearly faint from the wound in her arm. “Thank you, Bridget. I’m here … on the scene in Atherlon, where last night … over a million protesters assembled to … stage a democratic rally … in favour of unification.

“The military fired upon these poor civilians, and … there are at least a hundred dead, lying about the streets.” The cameraman panned around the streets, revealing bodies littering the ground. A large park to the left of the cameraman, its green grass a sharp contrast to the blood flowing in the streets, seemed peaceful by comparison. At least a hundred bodies were here, maybe more than two, even three hundred people. And this was just one part of the city. “We have … extraordinary footage for you … recorded last night,” Miranda winced, giving the camera some kind of signal to ‘roll the footage’. After a bit of fumbling with the camera, suddenly it clicked into the early morning light of a few hours earlier.

Miranda was standing with her back to the park, speaking into the camera with her microphone, her arm uninjured. “Good morning, I’m Miranda Cooper, on the scene of the single largest protest ever held on Harakian or previously-Harakian soil. Over a million people are assembled here this morning, and they have been here since eight o’clock last night. Speakers have been up speaking about proper democracy and the withdrawal from reunification talks with Haraki. The speaker up there now, you can see, is the former mayor of the city, before the Socialist takeover, and is now the leader of an underground movement that calls itself the Official Opposition to the current one-party system. He’s currently speaking about calling for democracy and a multi-party system with free elections, and even about considering reunification with Haraki. If you listen you can hear.”

The view zoomed in on the man speaking, somewhat shaky thanks to the digital zoom, and the viewers could see the speaker was a somewhat older man who was very passionate about what he was speaking about. “Today we are ruled by an iron fist. Those in power do not let us eat, sleep or travel without their permission. If this is such a free nation, ‘why are we not allowed to leave it?’ is my question. When we were part of Haraki we had social systems, welfare, free healthcare, and many other benefits. Nowadays the government of our new nation has taken away those liberties and diverted funding from them into less important things such as the military. So I say we reunify! We take back what is rightfully ours and protest the way things ought not to be! I say we stand up for our own rights, take back out government, and begin talks to reunify with the only country here that cares for us!”

Vast cheers went up at his last few comments, each of which he punched the air for. After the cheering had begun to subside, he began to talk again. “But we cannot do this just be coming to rallies, by standing up for just cause, and by – what the hell is going on?”

The camera swung over to the right, past Miranda, and revealed a line of soldiers dressed in full body armour and helmets, carrying assault rifles, advancing on the crowd. A megaphone boomed “This has been deemed an unlawful protest by the government of the Socialist State of Atherlon. Disperse now or suffer the consequences.”

There were shouts from the crowd swearing at the military soldiers, and those reasoning that even with a hundred soldiers with thirty bullets each, should they begin firing they would be vastly outnumbered by the crowd itself. That was when the other lines came out, behind the current speaker, who seemed very bewildered, and behind reinforcing the other line. At least five hundred soldiers were there, and several APCs rolled up, unloading troops and brining up heavy machine guns mounted on top that were aimed directly at the crowd.

Everyone stood there for a moment. Then, from the front of the crowd, near the speaker, there were screams and shouts and then bursts of gunfire shot. No bullets flew up into the air, meaning they hit the crowd and suddenly everyone panicked. The crowd began running in all directions: Towards and away from the soldiers, and many towards Miranda herself. The entire line of soldiers opened fire on the civilians, and the heavy machine guns’ deep bursts could be heard all around the room. The camera started shaking up and down as the HNN news team tried to run, and suddenly Miranda screamed and fell to the ground, clutching her elbow and crying out in pain. As much of the crowd approached, the camera was carefully but very quickly placed on the ground and from its sideways view, the cameraman ran out to help Miranda to her feet and, as the crowd approached, punched a man in the jaw who was about to run over her. As he helped her up, in the background could be seen bursts of gunfire into the crowd and protesters falling and screaming, and through it all the emotionless soldiers advanced, dispersing the crowd as forcefully as possible. Miranda got to her feet and the two HNN people ran away, grabbing the camera on their way.

Suddenly the shot cut back to Miranda, wounded, her back to where the soldiers had first appeared, many dead people littering the street and park where she was. She didn’t say anything for some time, and as she opened her mouth to speak to say something about what those in the meeting room had just witnessed, suddenly a shout was heard in the background. “Hey, you!”

The camera and Miranda both turned to face the man, one of the faceless soldiers who had just jumped out of a large covered truck. “Y- Yes?” she responded, her voice faltering.

“Get out of here! This is a military zone! You’re not allowed to be here!”

“No, no – I’m … I’m press. Haraki News Network.”

That was a mistake. When the soldier heard she was from Haraki he threw up the visor on his helmet and gave her a long look, sneering. “Pity they didn’t get you in the face,” he said, seeing her wounded elbow. Her eyes widened, terrified, as he grabbed her by the wounded elbow and she screamed in pain as he dug in his fingers into the wound. “You two are coming with me. Anyone caught in restricted areas is to be arrested.”

“We have the right to be here,” the cameraman shouted. “The world has a right to know what’s going on here, what you’re doing to your people.”

That earned him a rifle butt to the face. As he collapsed to the ground, the camera fell from his arms and its lens broke, revealing large cracks across the view. From where it lay on the ground the meeting room could see Miranda and the cameraman being led away by soldiers, the cameraman with both hands to what appeared to be a broken nose, dripping blood on the street as they were shoved into the back of the truck. As they closed it up again one of the soldiers came over, picked up the camera and peered into it, then threw it back on the ground, where it hit the ground and the screen went black for a moment before it cut back to Bridget Norse, the HNN news anchor. She seemed visibly frightened by what she had just witnessed.

“We, uh … We’ll be right back,” she said quietly, and Angela switched the TV off with a remote, turning her chair back to those at the table. She folded her hands and put them under her chin, biting her lower lip for a moment before looking around at all those near her. All eyes in the room were looking at her for what to do, what to say.

“We appear to have a situation,” she said, putting it as simply as possible.

President Ross put it quite succinctly: “That’s quite a bit of an understatement.”

Inside her mind, Angela was overjoyed. She had a rightful cause for war: Unlawful holding of Harakian civilians by Atherlonian military personnel, not to mention forceful disruption of peaceful protests. Moving quickly would be in the prisoners’ best interests, especially since it appeared there would be little resistance from the military if this much of the Atherlonian population wanted reunification. Why would they resist their ‘saviours’? Truthfully she was looking forward to a time when she could arrest the leaders of these rebellions and imprison them for a very long time.

But for now, she tried to keep her mind on the present. She turned to President Ross. “As you have undoubtedly heard, the level of hostile relations between Haraki and these two nations means there is no hope for a diplomatic resolution of this conflict, and especially not for the retrieval of the Harakian news team from Atherlon. This means we probably will have to resort to military matters to rescue these personnel, and free the people of Atherlon. You saw how they were treated, we can waste no time in rescuing them.”

“When you say ‘they’, do you mean the HNN team or the Atherlonian citizens?” Ross asked with bated breath.

“Both,” Angela replied gravely. “I am afraid if the military fires on pro-democracy rallies we must save the citizens from their own government, and the rescuing of the Harakian team is also of the utmost importance. We must go through formalities first, of course, but full-scale mobilization will follow.”

She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a message on it, then handed it to an aide, who took it away and, following the instructions on it, sent it to the leaders of Atherlon. She expected a response before the end of the day, but still carried on with the talks. “It appears, Mr. President, that we have negotiated reunification between our two nations under the name and flag of Haraki.”

Ross nodded. “It is in all our best interests, I fear.”

“But this will take time. In this time, we must settle something: Will you aid us in operations against Atherlon and Ferria should military power be needed to rescue the Harakians imprisoned inside and dismantle the oppressive governments?” Angela asked. This was the moment of truth, the moment when Ross would either sign over his nation to the Harakians or maintain autonomy for the time being.

He took his time before answering, staring down at the oak table, and then nodded. “Yes. Lorsihan will send troops to assist in an invasion of both these nations, and the deposing of their respective rulers and governments.”

Angela smiled. “I knew you’d make the right decision, Mr. President,” she said.

Then why does the right decision feel like a mugging? Ross thought to himself before saying out loud, “Yes, well we all knew there wasn’t really a choice. Not after what we just saw.”

Angela stood up. “Well, then I believe this meeting is adjourned. Mr. President, I’m sure you have business to attend to back in Lorishan, and all our business you were in Kiros for is settled. We must attend to business involving the mobilization of the military here in Haraki, and so the meeting must be adjourned, at least for today. Farewell, Mr. President.”

They shook hands and Ross left, straight for a plane to take him back to Lorishan. Angela turned to the others left in the room, and slammed her hands down on the table. “All right. First of all,” she said, turning to an aide, “I want you to get the Chiefs of the Army, Navy and Air Force in here. Now,” she turned back to the others. “Now, I’ve already sent a message to the head of Atherlon, we’re waiting for a response. In the meantime, I want all domestic forces on high alert and mobilized on the Ferrian and Atherlonian borders. I want a full battle fleet in the water off the coast of Atherlon by tomorrow night. This fleet should be composed of at least five carriers and five battleships to provide support for the troops and destroy the entire Atherlonian fleet while it’s still in port if possible. I want air wings in the air from now, and I want to call an emergency meeting of parliament. As a formality.”

“Angela,” Roger Gains spoke up from down the table, “I need to talk to you.”

“All right, then talk,” she replied.

“In private.”

“All right,” she said, taking his elbow and leading him to her office up a floor. She sat down behind her desk and he took a seat in front of it, staring blankly at the wall. “What is it?”

“Angela, I know you’ve planned this war. You had no intention of going through with the talks. When Lorishan agreed, you were shocked.”

“So?”

“So unprovoked war plans being drawn up is something that would quickly turn support against you in the public,” he said pointedly. “If the civilians of Haraki knew you started reunification talks as a sham to cover up the wars you were planning, you would quickly lose an election. In fact, I would be willing to bet you would lose a vote of no confidence in parliament.”

“How is that possible?” she asked. “The Liberals have an overwhelming majority.”

“If it was a free vote, many Liberal MPs would turn against you for it. Even if it wasn’t, you would have defections to vote with all other parties against you. The point is, this path you are taking can only lead to your political doom.”

“Only if someone exposes me,” she replied, giving Roger one last chance.

“I have to,” he replied. “I would never forgive myself if I didn’t.”

“I understand,” she said, rising and putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from her touch. “I know your code of morals will lead you down to the path to righteousness. But what proof do you have?” she asked smugly.

“I have recorded conversations between you and me and you and Jonathan before the reunification talks even began plotting to start the wars.”

Her face fell. He had now forced her hand. “Well then, Roger, you do what you must. And I will do what I must. And I will meet you again on the political battlegrounds. I’m sure you can find your own way out.”

He stood and, without saying another word, walked out the door, feeling his way along the wall. In the outside office, he had the secretary offer to help him, and turned her down. He walked out the door and she could hear his footsteps down the hallway. She closed her eyes tightly until tears trickled from the corners, and clenched her fists so tightly her fingernails drew blood from her palms, before she picked up the phone and dialled a secure number.


*


Several minutes later, she walked out of her office. On the way, the aide she had sent off with the piece of paper came back with the response on a different one, along with the first message on top. She read through it again.

As Prime Minister of Haraki, I hereby demand the immediate freeing of the Harakian civilians you are currently imprisoning inside your nation. They are being unlawfully held and must be released under international law.

She flipped over to the second paper, on which was written a one word reply:

No.

She smiled inside. Now the diplomacy was over with. When she made it back to the meeting room the chiefs of the forces were beginning to arrive. She rubbed her hands together and resumed her place at the head of the table. “Now … Where were we?”

Roger felt around for the handle of the door in front of him, opening it after some time. He stepped into the hallway after it, shutting the door and placing his briefcase on the ground. He knew this place like he knew the back of his hand. Quickly he walked to the other side of the room and picked up the phone there, dialling a number from the Braille number pad on the phone and waiting. It rang twice before he got an answer. “Hi, Jaime,” he responded.

“I’m all right. No, I guess I’m not. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I went and talked to her today after the news report came on, and … No, no good news. She seemed not to react. Her voice didn’t even change. She just said something about seeing me again on the political battlefields. I don’t think it’s going to work … Yes, I think we will actually have to use the tapes. I don’t think she’s going to back down … I hate blackmailing her, really I do … Good. The part that worries me is that I think the public might actually agree with her on this matter … Okay, good. You know them better than anyone else, so if you say that, I’ll believe you … Okay … Yes … I think we both know that would only be a fluke …”

He listened as, outside his house, rain began to fall, making a light pitter-patter on the windows and streaks down the glass. The rain got heavier as the conversation continued, and thunder occasionally boomed in the background.

“Listen, I’ll … I’ll talk to you later. Before we do this, we have to know if she’s actually going to go through with it … Bye.”

He hung up the phone, and walked into his living room, sitting down on a couch and laying his head against the back slightly over. He dozed off for a short while, waking up with a start and a slight snore, his head moving around quickly, trying to hear the noise that had awoken him. “Clara? Are you there?” He called out, to no response. He could hear one of his back windows swinging in the wind, creaking open and shut, and stood up. That must have been the noise.

As he arrived and reached out to grab the handle and pull the window shut, he grabbed the latch by accident instead. It was smashed off the window, hanging by a grain of wood. His heart turned over as thunder cracked very close to him, and he pulled the window shut, muffling the noises of the storm. The destroyed latch ruled out the wind blowing it open. He reflected on the fact that the window opened out, not in, and so the wind couldn’t have blown it open anyway.

“Hello?” he called out, nervous, feeling around for the counter, grabbing it, and listening intently for any noises. “Anyone there?”

The clicking of the hammer of a gun right beside his head alerted him to the fact that there was. “Oh,” he responded.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gains,” a female voice said, very softly. He recognized it immediately.

“Anna? The waitress?”

Her hand faltered for a split second. “How did you know that?” she hissed.

“I never forget a voice,” he responded, swallowing. It had all been a set-up. He realized Angela had had him watched and followed ever since he expressed concern over the nationalism sweeping her campaign.

“You’ll have forgotten them all in a second,” Anna replied calmly, and two silenced gunshots went unheard, drowned out by the thunder and lightning striking the sky outside.

Miranda came around in a prison cell. The left sleeve of her button-up shirt had been torn off and used to bandage her arm. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but still she felt very faint due to blood loss. Asleep in the corner of the cell was her cameraman, Dan F. Barrett, with dried blood under his nose, which seemed unusually crooked. It had quite definitely set wrong and would probably have to be rebroken to heal properly. She made her way over slowly, trying to avoid moving too quickly, and reached out to feel his nose. She was wrong. It hadn’t even started to set.

So, she did what she had learned from an older field reporter: When something is broken or dislocated, simply gently pull on it from the knuckle to tip of a finger, top to bottom of a nose, etc. over and over again. So she reached up with her hands, placing one on either side of his nose, and started gently pulling down to straighten the bones. She could hear many little cracks as the bones and cartilage were pulled back into the right position, and suddenly his eyes shot open, his hands shot up and grabbed her wrists, and he grimaced. “Ow, that hurts like hell. What are you doing?”

He sat up, leaning against the wall of their quite barren cell, and she sat back. “I was trying to straighten out your nose,” she responded weakly.

He was about to reply when the door was slammed open and a rather large man with an ugly expression on his face took a step inside. “Ah good, you’re awake,” he said in a thick accent. He was from the Borderlands, the mountainous strip on the far edge of Atherlonian territory from Haraki. The Border Mountains, more commonly referred to as the Borderlands, stretched across almost all of Former Haraki’s northern border, all the way to the ocean in the east, and those from up there were usually less-educated, but stronger. Living in the mountains made you strong, if slightly thick. “Please come with me.”

They both rose, but he turned to Dan. “You stay here.”

“But I want to go with her,” Dan shouted, rushing forward, but the man simply placed up a hand and pushed Dan down again.

“Shut up before I break your nose again,” he replied, grabbing Miranda by the uninjured arm and pulling her through the door, slamming it behind him.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked as he pulled her down the corridor, past other cells in which gaunt prisoners sat, looking mournful and genuinely sorry for her as she was pulled past them.

“Somewhere where you can talk to the men here to ask you some questions,” the man replied.

“Who are they?”

“The government.”

That was enough to shut her up for now. She was suddenly terrified. She hadn’t been doing anything wrong, and now she was locked up and going to be interrogated by the government. The man opened a door in front of them, shoved her through, and pulled it shut again, locking it. Miranda found herself in a dark room, with several dull ceiling lights on, and another door in the other wall. A mirror on the wall, which she knew from all the movies was actually a one-way window, reflected the room back at her. There was a wooden table in the middle, the kind that looked like you could get a dozen splinters from touching it, and a chair on her side. Sitting in one of the two chairs on the other side was a man in a light brown trenchcoat smoking a cigarette. He gestured to the chair on her side of the table, which she gingerly sat down on. The man took a drag on his cigarette and then breathed a long line of smoke in her face. She turned away and coughed, and the man smiled.

“We’re waiting for my compatriot before we begin, so feel free to relax and enjoy yourself until his arrival,” he said in an accent she’d never heard before. This man wasn’t Harakian, at least not from anywhere she’d heard before. His voice was deep, and he spoke in a strange way as if every word was something he had never heard before and he was asking someone about its meaning.

She sat back, placing her hands on the table and suddenly wincing her right back. Predictably, she had gotten a splinter in her index finger, which she grasped with her left fingernails and gingerly pulled out, throwing it on the floor. The man smiled sadistically at this sight. Then the door opened and in stepped a man wearing a grey long-sleeved T-shirt with the sleeves pulled up past his elbows. He was tall and thin, almost reed-like, and sat down in the last of the three chairs. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat high-pitched, but regular Harakian, and he spoke as if everything he ever said was a true-to-life fact. “You are a spy,” was the first thing she heard him say.

“No, no I’m not,” she replied, astonished.

“Yes, you are. The border from Atherlon to Haraki is closed. You crossed it somehow. That makes you a spy, here to assess our military strength before your nation’s invasion,” the thinner man affirmed.

“No, I’m not,” she replied angrily. “I’m a reporter from the Haraki News Network. I had the proper paperwork, press passes and such in my bag, until you took it from me when I was arrested.”

“Paperwork can be easily faked, and even press are not allowed in Atherlon from Haraki. Or, indeed, now from Lorishan either. How did you get into the nation?”

“I went through Lorishan, before you closed your borders to them,” she replied truthfully. “I took the train.”

“Interesting,” the thin man responded, pulling out a folder and writing something on a paper inside it. “And also illegal.”

“I was assigned to cover the protests in Atherlon, so I took the train from Kiros to Caltis and then down the river to Atherlon. I didn’t know that was illegal.”

“If it was legal, everyone would do it,” the man replied absentmindedly, flipping through papers in the folder. “Now, on to the juicy bits. Who trained you?”

“What?”

“Who do you work for?”

“The Haraki News Network,” she replied, getting frustrated. “I told you that already.”

“Since you’re Harakian, we’ll assume the HIA. Oh, by the way,” he said, looking up and straight into her eyes. “You do know the penalty for spying is death, right?”

“I’m not a fucking spy!” she screamed. He just smiled appeasingly and nodded.

“Yes, of course you aren’t,” he mumbled, glancing down at his folder again and then back up at her face. “I should warn you, you probably want to co-operate a bit more. If you don’t tell us what you know, I may have to hand this interrogation over to my associate, and he uses much … blunter ways of obtaining the truth.”

“I’m co-operating as much as I can! I’m not a spy, god damnit!” she shouted, at the same time terrified of what might happen to her. If she made up a story and confessed to being a spy, she would be executed. If she didn’t, she would be tortured until she confessed to something she had not done, and then be executed. It was a lose-lose situation. Her only hope was for outside intervention.

The thin man sighed. “Then you leave us no choice. We will give you ten minutes in this room. We will be watching you from behind the one-way window you can undoubtedly see over there. If you choose to tell us what we want to know within this time, you will be taken back to your cell for the rest of your stay in Atherlon until your trial, should you receive one. If not, my associate will enter the room in ten minutes time and escort you to somewhere you really don’t want to ever see. Good luck.”

With that they stood and walked out the door on their side of the room. The larger one turned over his shoulder and leered at her as he left. “See you in a bit,” he said, clearly excited, before slamming the door shut behind them. When they were gone, Miranda slowly put her head in her hands and cried, trying to think of ways to stall them. None came to mind.

It had been a nice ceremony, in retrospect. Roger had not been an overtly religious man, and so there had been no priest, but rather his friends had spoken. Jaime Wolfe had said a few short words about how despite being blind, he had overcome adversity, but the words themselves were said through gritted teeth. He didn’t look into the eyes of those present, instead staring at the coffin beneath them. Angela Shepherd had said some words as well, cold and emotionless. Everyone thought she was simply dealing with the tragedy by bottling up her emotions. She knew better.

As the funeral dispersed, Angela stood over the grave of a man she had once trusted more than anyone, dead because of an order given by her. The coffin lay in a large hole six feet deep, a closed-casket ceremony to hide the bloody mess that was Roger Gains. She stood there until the rest of the party had dispersed, looking down at the coffin. It was sad, but he had been in her way, she tried to justify to herself. He was in the way of the rebuilding and reglorifying of Haraki. He deserved what he got. He had threatened her, threatened to blackmail her, and so he had been removed. The official story was that he died in a robbery. He surprised the thieves on his way in from work, and they shot him. The place was ransacked, things of great value were missing, and the back window latch was smashed. All the signs of an inefficient robbery.

But by the afternoon, they had moved on to other matters. The fleet had been sortied, and bombers were in the air. All that remained was for her to give the order, and the wars would begin. She hesitated for a mere moment before telling the Chiefs to begin their campaign. And, within half an hour, she was speaking on live television to the entire nation, telling them why their children were now at war.

“We have suffered unpleasant relation for a long time with the nations of Ferria and Atherlon. But today, we begin something that weighs heavily in my heart. With the arrest and subsequent refusal to release a Harakian reporter, the Atherlonian government forced our hand. Recent pro-democracy protests in the two nations roused millions of people from their beds to protest their governments, and they were gunned down in the morning several days ago. The nations began military manoeuvres to scare away our diplomatic eyes, but they could not hide forever. We have no choice. We have been pushed past the brink of war by these nations, and so we are now at war with both Atherlon and Ferria. Our ally, the nation of Lorishan, will be joining us in this military endeavour. But worry not. I predict an easy victory over these nations, after which time they will be reunited under the democratic government of the nation of Haraki.”

It was not the most inspired speech, but still there was applause when she finished. Jaime Wolfe stood at the back of the crowd, glaring at her as the crowd cheered. He had his suspicions. Roger had confessed to him his plans to expose Angela and Jonathan Friedman, and most likely get them thrown out of office, which would lead to a widespread election. And then Roger had been killed. It was all too convenient for Angela Shepherd. But even as he thought these thoughts on his way walking back home, he thought of the people that were enacting her order. He thought of the soldiers who were beginning an offensive across the borders, of the airplanes fighting each other over the plains of Atherlon, and he thought of the ships firing at each other on the seas. The fleet had already left Arkia en route to Susa, where the Atherlonian fleet made its home. And Jaime felt sorry for them. Yes, it would be an easy war. But that was not the point.


*


“This is Bridget Norse, for HNN News. It has been two weeks since Prime Minister Angela Shepherd’s declaration of war, and it has gone astonishingly well for the Harakian forces. The main problem with the ground invasion is not enemy troops, but rather the Harakian forces outrunning their own supply lines. The navy crushed the Atherlonian navy within a week, including the heroic engagement by the light cruiser HNS Jubilee when it engaged four enemy ships, including a heavier cruiser, and destroyed two, forcing the remainder to retreat. This simply proved the Harakian military superiority. The Atherlonian flagship, the AMSS Vengeance, was destroyed in an engagement by planes from the HNS Shrike, the newest carrier in the Harakian arsenal.

“The Atherlonian and Ferrian air forces were no match for the Harakian planes, which overwhelmed them in quality and quantity, securing air superiority for the Harakian ground forces. Many planes were destroyed on the ground, allowing minimal loss of life on both sides. Lorishan’s troops are doing slightly worse on their fronts, but Harakian support has secured victory.

“The catalyst to the war, Miranda Cooper, was rescued on the first day of the war by CEF commandoes who were paradropped into Atherlon to secure the city and rescue her, which was completed as quickly as possible. They then waited for the troops to arrive the short distance from the border, which was completed very quickly. Ms. Cooper, an HNN reporter arrested by Atherlonian troops several days ago, is in stable condition in a Kiros hospital, with her long ordeal over.

“The ground troops have been accepting thousands of surrendering soldiers from both sides, as they flee from the drafted army of their nation to the democratic nation of Haraki. This seems like the ideal war. There is very little resistance, and the Harakian forces have secured all fronts well. We predict victory by two weeks from now.”

Then the TV switched off.

“I think that’s enough propaganda for one day,” Jonathan Friedman muttered, clinking his scotch glass against Angela Shepherd’s. “How much is actually true?”

“Most of it,” she replied. “But above all, we have accomplished our goal.”

He nodded. “To us.”

“To us.”

They drank deeply.

The wars were over. There had been no contest. The overwhelming public support for the invading troops had led to a rapid victory. It had helped that many soldiers from the defenders’ militaries had surrendered to the invading troops. After nearly a month of warfare, the two nations officially surrendered. Their leaders were arrested and imprisoned in Harakian prisons without trials, leaving their future in jeopardy. And now, two weeks later, Angela Shepherd, standing in the centre of the square in Atherlon where, a month earlier, hundreds of people had been slaughtered, spoke to a hushed crowd.

“We have now emerged from times of turmoil. Only two months ago, every person here was enslaved by a cruel dictator who cared for nothing other than his own survival and profit. He attempted to flee the nation across the Border Mountains and was only stopped by a patrol from one of our divisions. But that is not the point. The point is that now all three states that broke away from Haraki for various different reasons are united in wishing to rejoin Haraki. As you all know, last week a nation-wide survey was held. Every single person in the splinter states were polled, and 9 in 10 people were in favour of rejoining Haraki, merging all four nations together into the great nation we used to be!

“And so it will happen. As of today, this second, the nations of Atherlon, Lorishan and Ferria are once again parts of Haraki. We are whole once more. We no longer need worry about cutthroat neighbours, for we are surrounded by friends. The necessary paperwork and official releases were all filled out last night, and it was official as of this morning. And as of right now, Atherlon shall once again be the capitol of Haraki. Kiros is a good city, and shall remain so forever, but Atherlon is the heart of Haraki. It is here that our greatest victories and greatest triumphs have occurred. It is here that we were born, and it is here that we shall stay. May you all find peace.”

She turned to leave the stage, only to find Jaime Wolfe stepping up onto the stage. His face looked grim and steady-jawed. The security people of the event looked concerned and began to climb up onto the stage as well. Jaime turned and glared at them. He had three days’ worth of stubble on his face, and seemed as if he hadn’t slept in at least twenty-four hours. Still they approached, until Angela waved them away. “Jaime,” she asked nervously, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to tell them the truth,” Jaime responded.

Angela paled, and stood to block Jaime from access to the podium where the microphone was, but he simply advanced on her, towering a full head taller than her. He was not wearing a suit, but rather a long-sleeved T-shirt and a jacket overtop of it. He shoved Angela aside, which triggered the security personnel to rush up onto the stage, but he grabbed both sides of the podium tightly and began to speak before they got a chance to grab him. Once they heard what he had to say, they stopped advancing and instead formed a semi-circle around him.

“People of Haraki, you have been lied to,” he shouted into the microphone. “By this woman, Prime Minister Angela Shepherd. She never wanted the diplomatic reunification talks to succeed. The talks that ultimately led to the war you just suffered were fraudulent, and a set-up. She was planning this war all along. And the man who knew about this, the only man who was willing to stand up and tell her what she was doing was wrong, was Roger Gains, whom she had killed.”

The crowd fell silent at this, and the security stopped advancing. Jaime continued. “Angela Shepherd is a liar and a criminal. She ordered the murder of an innocent man so that she could have her war. So that her nationalist agenda would go forward, so she would kill people and reunite the nation. And she has succeeded. She even rallied public support behind her because of it, because the people of the nation were too blind to see they were being led along a path by a woman whose only agenda, as she so cleverly insulted the previous leaders of the nation of Atherlon, was for her own profit. For her own benefit she planned a series of wars against sovereign nations, and for her own benefit she had one of her best friends killed. This is not the kind of person you want leading your nation. In fact, she managed to cover this up so well that were it not for my late friend Roger Gains having tapes of conversations between her and Jonathan Friedman planning this, which he told Ms. Shepherd and me about separately, no one would believe me when I say this. It is only because he feared for his own life – rightfully so, as it turned out – that I have a copy of these tapes, and I plan to use them.

“Years ago, I retired from politics. I had had enough political backstabbing and behind the scenes negotiating. I believe it was the right decision. Now I’m sorry to say I will be returning to politics, if only to help our nation get back on its feet. As Ms. Shepherd so keenly pointed out, Haraki is reunited, mostly because of illegal wars. I exposed this information and played the tapes that are my proof to her entire party this morning while she was away visiting here, and most of them stated their withdrawal of support for her. There will be a vote of no confidence, not in the Liberal Party, but in Angela Shepherd, this afternoon. Should it pass, she will be evicted from the Liberals and a new leader will be voted in. At the moment, it looks as if that leader will be me. As of tomorrow, the nation will have decided whether or not it supports Ms. Shepherd’s policies. Thank you.”

He turned away from the podium to find himself still surrounded by six security guards, all shorter than him. “Oh, give it up,” he muttered, shoving his way through the line of them. None tried to stop him, they just stood there. The crowd dispersed after some time, but the sentiment of having been tricked remained in the air. The speech had been broadcast live to the entire nation, and those that didn’t see it heard about it from friends, neighbours, and in newspapers the next day.

The government of Angela Shepherd fell, with 90% of MPs opposed to her remaining in power. The members of the 10% that remained that were members of the Liberal Party promptly quit their party to form a new one, entitled the Shepherd Party, after its founder. Jonathan Friedman was one of them. The remainder of parliament debated for two hours on whom to appoint as the new prime minister of the nation, and the underlying point that Jaime Wolfe was a national hero, and had been for years, was brought up multiple times. It was eventually decided that he was the only person who could reunite the nation following this colossal revelation, and he was elected nearly unanimously to the head of the Liberal Party and therefore Prime Minister of Haraki.

His first act, the next day, was to hold a referendum: All those people who were citizens of the splinter states could vote on the Secession Referendum, which stated that with the new information revealed, those who had been citizens of the breakaway nations could vote to reform them as not a part of Haraki, because the wars were illegal. All three referendums failed, as analysts had predicted they would. The people had had their taste of independence, and now simply wanted the comfort of being part of Haraki again.

The leaders of Ferria and Atherlon were freed and informed they were free to go. Their arrests and subsequent imprisonment had been due to Angela Shepherd’s policies, although they were informed they would be brought to trial for the ordered violent suppression of the protests that sparked the war. Both fled the nation, never to enter Haraki again. And all seemed well in Haraki again. The nation was united, a reluctant man had assumed his old position of power, and the woman who had brought about such havoc was sidelined to a position of less power.


*


Angela Shepherd sat in her home, staring at a picture of her father. He was holding a large fish, dangling from one hand, and a sign in the other that said “Bigest fish I evar cought!” A faint smile crossed her face. Her father had never been good at spelling, grammar or anything academic. But his spirit had inspired her, and his opinionated stance on world politics had influenced hers a great deal.

“I’m sorry, dad,” she whispered. “I tried. I tried to make our country great. But they wouldn’t let me. They stopped me. They turned me down at every turn. And now, here I am, back at square one, and not willing to go through the motions again. I’m sorry. I tried, really I did. But sometimes … Sometimes life’s just too much for me.”

She took the picture down from the mantle and carried it through her house to her kitchen, where she set it on the table and sat down, grabbing a piece of paper from a pile nearby and pulling a pen from her jacket pocket. I hereby leave leadership of the Shepherd Party to Jonathan Friedman, she wrote, and entrust all my belongings and personal wealth to be given to the remaining members of my family. She signed it below and then stood up, picking up the picture of her father and walking to her study, where she reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small revolver.

“I’m sorry, dad, I really am,” the whispered again, pressing the picture against her forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”

Then she dropped the picture, raised the gun, and fired a bullet into her temple. She died instantly, leaving a legacy in her wake: Angela Shepherd, the shortest term in office ever as Prime Minister of Haraki, having started two wars, reunited the nation, and been ousted from power. Her suicide was, she thought, a fitting end to this tale.




-End.












OOC: I never expected this to turn into a story, but I guess it did. Feel free to post if you read it, especially since I will be starting an RP soon that will be an immediate follow-up to this one, which will require actual involvement. From other people. Please. But really, I guess this is over, and now I get to get on with actually being the way I’m used to being on these forums. Woo.

sorry, forgot to come back and look at this. damn good work. i'm assuming the embassies already set up are still valid?

Yep, they definitely are. Thanks. And no problem about not coming back. I kinda liked the way it ended up, because I was free to do whatever I wanted without worry of other people reacting and needing to think about what they would do. I have another RP up if you still want a chance to RP with me.

sorry, cant trawl through 3 pages when i really ought to be revising. :( i might join 2morrow, if i've got the time.

The United Islands of Chicheleg would like to offer the lease of 30 of our fleet of our Submarine Carrier made by Stingpate and 6000 of our STF 98 fighters built by Stingted to help you in you fight to reunite your nation back into the single nation that it was ment to be. We are also willing to provide the Admirals and Officers to opperate these ships all you will have to do is provide the crew that we will train to opperate the unique ships/submarines

President Brian L. Peterson