NationStates Jolt Archive

Liberty-City, Allanea, Greater Prussian Sea

The City is quite big. Not just in the ordinary sense of a metropolis that's just reached a population of two hundred million men – all of those are quite big, really. But Liberty-City is also quite big in comparison to, say, a two hundred-million man city in, say, Iuthia. When Allanean cities grow, they mostly grow horizontally – not vertically. Centuries of conquest, discovery, and extravagant territorial purchases mean that land is cheap. For the most part only corporate towers, hotels, and such other buildings are skyscrapers – appartment buildings are an invention for the poor and despondent.

Nobody really cares about the forests – this is not Errirundera either. So Liberty-City crawls outwards as all sorts of homes are made, carted in, and then simply installed in their lots – Pilonese homes that are like huge palpitating hearts, Menelmacari designs that look like kitchy imitations of a real elven home, Allanean high-tech double-wides, and Monocorporation homes that have a built-in ortillery shelters – leave it to the robots to make money off the Allanean paranoid fear of ortilllery.

On the west, the city has now stretched far enough to gobble up Minas-Faerie in it's limits – the President's private home (a palace, really) now poking out like a sore from the colorful jumble of roof of all shapes and sizes. On the east, Liberty-City Airport is now swallowed up by the sprawl, and it's administration is struggling to try and enlarge runway space by buying up private homes and demolishing them.

Through the jumbled mess of unplanned neighborhoods, glittering family mansions and Greater Prussian-style government buildings run Allanea's roads.

Next to the roads, there are pubs – and Grand Casinos, and disco, and a thousand and one other institution designed for entertaining one's fellow sapients.

In one of those institutions – a cinema – a couple seems to be holding hands.

They are not. As a matter of fact, one of them is giving the other a small item – a small pack of cigarettes.

The other person is an Austarian spy, of course.

Take those cigarettes home.

Break them in half, one by one.

One is not a cigarette. It contains a carefully-wrapped piece of paper.

It contains a letter.

It is important for you to realize that, despite the unity of the Allanean government, not all is as it seems. While the normal means of influencing my Employer are now exhausted, I am now desirous of trying... harsher means. For this, I require the assistance of the Austarian State. I would require money and hiding places – should the operation foul.

The process required will be undemocratic – it will be dirty – but it will not be dangerous. It will be posessed of two stages – a cleaning stage and a hidden stage. If you like to participate in the hidden stage, you must send professionals to help clean, too.

These professionals could perhaps focus on Geronimo Hawks, Michel Lafontaine, and Michael Herring – officers in the President's private unit, the 'Miriel Marines'.

I cannot at the present deliver my identity to you – suffice to say I work at one of the highest levels of the Allanean government. Tomorrow you will see one of the guards escorting the President during his address wear three Terminator badges on his uniform, one of them will be worn incorrectly. This may serve you as proof of how close to my Employer I am.

Yours,

Friday.

'Sunrise', as was his codename, wiped his face dry with a paper towel and studied his own face in the dirty mirror. Public bathrooms were not his choice of location, but at least they made for a moment of privacy where he was able to read, memorize the message including names and details, then burn it with a match as to destroy it completely. Fortunately, he had not been so stupid to choose a place that was too advanced, and he was able to leave the place without setting off anything in the likes of a fire alarm, like he would if he were in a hotel or back at the theater.

So you want me to help you, Friday... he thought inwardly. You better act promising, and not be one of those damn agents I have to worry about.

Whether the Allanean government knew about him personally or not, was one thing. Whether or not the Allanean government knew there were spies out there was an entirely different matter; almost expected in fact. He pondered about the message silently as he walked in the cover of night, hailing a cab and keeping to himself in the back seat as it took him to a block away from his apartment. Not the greatest of suburbs, but he feared capture by the United States more than he did a common thug. And besides, a common thug didn't receive government training; even if they wanted to, they couldn't touch him. Once again however, he reached his front door step and let himself inside. Untouched, and undisturbed, he didn't take outward appearances for granted -- making a sweep of his apartment was a regular occurance these days as the United States seemed to be making a crack down on social crackpots and be a little more interested in bugging suspicious individuals than they did using common sense in a world not gone mad.

Taking a shower, he cleaned himself off with an old bar of soap. The apartment itself wasn't exactly flashy, perhaps a reflection on how he preferred it. It was low-key, the neighbors didn't really care what you did with yourself; if they found you dealt in the business of drugs or other illicit goods, they would most probably make some sort of an offer to buy them off you. So long it was worth it, and these people were generally psychologically deprived and desperate. Not a quiet place to live either, but it suited him just fine. It kept him out of the spotlight and out of danger for the moment. At the sign that somebody might be even slightly more interested in him than usual, he would move to the other side of Liberty-City; something he's had to do only a couple of times.

He had moved to Allanea several years back, and unofficially worked for ANSIO, otherwise known as the Austarian National Security & Intelligence Organization. He was not on their payroll, he had no current citizenship anywhere in the world. He was in fact, legally dead to his family back at home. Sacrifices sometimes had to be made, although he had a non-existent contract that specified that he would receive refuge and an 'unlimited bank account' when it came to the time of his retirement -- not anytime soon. The fact was, 'Sunrise' was well educated. He knew that other people's interests came before his own, he knew that by serving his nation, he was helping his nation serve the world, and things such as global stability, saving lives, keeping other families unified, preventing suffering in seemingly unreal places through-out the world. It was not a job for the faint hearted, but with enough training and 'cleaning of the brain', he was fully operational to ANSIO and all that they planned for him to achieve.

Officially, he was a journalist.

The next day, 'Sunrise' attended one of the President's national addresses. Something about issues of the state, and maybe something about the United State's disposition in the world attracted him as a journalist. To confirm Friday as existent according to his or her word attracted him as a spy, as an agent, and as a possible assassin. Watching from a place not so out of the ordinary though large aviators, he subconsciously made a mental note of all the faces in the crowd, or near to him at least.

Nobody was watching him, that he knew.

He also made a note of all the people present, from the Secretary-of-State to a few of the Ministers present at the event, to even Members of Parliament who either chose to keep to their network of friends or make themselves much more familiar with the voters there. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

And then the music started. Interesting, he thought as he noted one of the guards escorting the President from one place to the next -- one of them wearing a Terminator badge upside down or otherwise incorrectly. An oversight by most of anyone there. But key to the identification of Friday, confirming that they were indeed who they said they were. Whether or not they were genuine in that they wanted his help or not however was another matter, and discernment was key to determining a ploy to have him captured from the real deal.

Lighting a cigarette, 'Sunrise' drew in a singular breath of smoke and blew it calmly into the breeze. Not forgetting to take notes as to appear genuine, he disregarded much of Kazansky's bullshit as political rhetoric, and much of the same as he always declared to the world. Later, a phone call would be made to some friends of his via a public phone in a neighborhood he had never been before. Reporting this contact would be prime in purpose, although anyone listening would not be able to determine that this was any different than two friends 'catching up'.

"Doctor Blindermann, is all ready on you end?"

"Has been ready for ages. I remind you… I am not an Allanean by blood and neither are any of my employees. I will have no special problems dealing with this situation."

"Very good."

Edmond de Siecle – oh Lord, what a boring pseudonym! – locked his cellphone and remained alone in the yard of a large, luxurious home on the shore of the Northern Haven Ocean, smiling to himself. It was now all done. Almost all done. 'Friday' played her role beautifully – the President's guard wore a badge on the wrong side of his uniform shirt. The Austarians, hopefully, would kill the people that Friday asked them to kill.

They were not important people in the scheme of things – but they mattered.

Lieutenant Geronimo Hawks was the Operational Officer of the Brigade's small base in Liberty-City. He decided the assignment of the guards and the changing of shifts, among other things. In a unit just five hundred strong – thank you for your blunder with the Atopians, Mr. President… or is it a blunder? Are you really that brave? No matter.

Captain Lafontaine was the Brigade's Procurement Officer – and he was the one dealing with the ongoing renovation of it's mess hall.

And Herring was the Deputy Commander of the small private army, second only to the President himself. Of course, as Brigade officers, they had a tendency to visit bars, pubs, and so forth without some form of special guard or security – and it was a private unit, so no court-martial for any of them.

Kill them, Austarians. Kill them for me… and all will be fine. Set a single, tiny pebble going down a slope for me…

ANSIO HQ, Anatoba City
Within 24 Hours

Not long after receiving word of some sort of a vague ' coup d'état ' in the United States of Allanea, the ANSIO HQ Center was alive and buzzing with activity. HEATHER was re-programmed to be watching especially for any news within Allanea; details were unfortunately uncertain for the time being--whether it would happen via use of the military, or with very limited violence was not determined, and what little had been confirmed told that Friday was a leading figure within the Allanean government, presumed close to Alexander Kazansky himself. As such, certain staff members were briefed on a possible operation concerning a non-existent operative by the codename of 'Sunrise', and efforts were poised and directed toward learning more of this Friday character, and to confirm such and such rumour's genuinity.

nx:/ANSIOCORE_43AE/HEATHER/DATASEARCH_ASSIST
Command: Search
// Nation: Allanea
// Topic: High-Ranked Govt. & Military Officials in 'conflict' with Pres. Alexander Kazansky
// Times: Recent (Within 3 Months)
// Topic Plus: Govt. / Police / Military Officials with powers to command within Pres. Security Teams
// Type: List, Singular... Highlight double entries.

List Generating...

Within a matter of seconds, some few thousand names were generated and displayed; approximately $number of these were highlighted for the purposes of this search.

Drat, thought the lowly console operator. That's no good to me.

Command: Clear

He pondered for a moment, tapping a pencil on his desk to help him think.

Command: Search
// Nation: Allanea
// Topic: Individuals, Bio; Geronimo Hawks; Michel Lafontaine; Michael Herring
// Type: Display, Pages

Pages Generating...

Reading over the material for approximately half and hour, a grin widened over the operator's face. Finally, something to work with...

Liberty-City
Within 48 Hours

Reading his briefing material carefully, 'Sunrise' was quick to determine a strategy when it came to executing this mission, and chose to do it that very night. It was a surprisingly easy mission, officers from the Brigade frequented a group of local pubs and nightclubs during their off hours, and he was even able to outsource the night's work to a duo of Khristians looking to up their bank accounts a few hundred thousand each. Well, perhaps not their bank accounts, but cash under the bed was currency all the same; the deal was that they would get paid fully when the job was completed. They were not chosen from the same apartment complex, they were not chosen from the same neighborhood. But 'Sunrise' had been put in touch with them during his living as a regular citizen and introduced by his various not-so-legitimate neighbors. Thugs, criminals, whatever you'd like to call them; they cared more for where they would get their next hit of cash, lower-bills preferred over their much larger counterparts. Minor details aside, an agreement had been struck and they were given a taste of their reward money from which they could treat themselves before zero hour.

Later that night by no coincidence whatsoever, two Khristians could be seen loitering around a dark alleyway, somewhere along a given route apparently frequented by members of the local Brigade, and more to the point, three Officers specifically; Lieutenant Geronimo Hawks, Captain Lafontaine, and Deputy Commander Herring. With any luck, they would recognize these three gentlemen as they stumbled to base under the influence of drugs, alcohol, or whatever other substance they could get their hands upon. A night of such partying was common in the United States of Allanea; it's citizenry being among quite possibly the most reckless bunch of heretics within the known universe, or at least to the Austarians they were.

"Gentlemen, have you any change for a hundred?" muttered one of the Khristians as they stepped out in front of their victims, recognized to be traveling together from a hundred or so yards distance away.

How convenient.

"Uhh... what the fuck man, did you say?" replied one of the Officers, evidently in quite a bad state. "What does he want?"

"I said I've got a hundred," repeated the Khristian, this time pulling something from his pocket. "Please, I need to make a phone call."

The Officers looked between themselves as they struggled to even understand what the Khristian was asking of them and before they knew it, found themselves dying on the cold, hard pavement. Something in the order of gunfire, sound suppressed by silencer seemed to do the trick just fine. They followed up with second, quick succession shots direct to the heart, searched through their wallets stealing any sign of currency or identification, and made their speedy getaway well into the darkness.

The men’s deaths were random. They were mourned, and attempts were made to catch their murderer. In the meanwhile, they were replaced.

And so, the new procurement officer was not quite as skilled – and did not notice any abnormalities in roof parts that were brought in three weeks later.

Neither was the new operations officer quite as skilled – and did not notice that the trucks bringing these parts in were not exactly the same trucks as were used by the Brigade’s normal supplier company.

And of course, the Deputy Commander being replaced meant that none of the contract operations for the new mess hall roof were quite as well coordinated as they should have been.

And so, on the first lunch when the new mess hall was open, the roof simply caved in. Some claimed the roof supports were defective. Some claimed that a small amount of explosives was planted in them. All that, of course, was the stuff of conspiracy theorists.

Two facts, were, however, incontrovertible.

One, that the Miriel Marines were replaced as the protective agency of the President by the State Department’s High Security Division – grim, blue-clad Khristians with immense rifles.

Two, that the Austarian security would receive a second message. The trap is about to shut. If you’re any smart, you’d have guessed my identity by now. I suggest you should now deploy a person to meet with me and my accomplices at the foot of Minas-Faerie on April 18th (the eve of Allanea’s Independence Day), to witness the shutting of the trap.

Of course, such homework had been done to associate the various links between words used and names claimed, the codename of Friday itself being the very clue which eluded to such figure's true identity; a Ms Victoria Sheshet.

Upon receiving word of a second communique, ANSIO once again buzzed with activity as they worked to select such an operative to meet with her and her apparent accomplices. Not to mention the fact that they once again had to validate the genuinity of this invitation -- sending someone only to find that it was a trap all along would be disastrous, although the fact that the completion of the previous mission resulted in quite a large change for the United States and their President indicated that sending someone would be relatively 'safe', or as safe as safe gets when you're most probably wanted by the very government you're working to either seek information on, or in this case destroy.

Fortunately, 'Sunrise' volunteered once again, and with the payment of a few million in danger money would be accepting said invitation personally. On representation of no nation whatsoever, any understanding of who he was and what he represented was only assumed to be true. And on the 18th of April, a single man approached cautiously, but seemingly collectively to a pre-designated entrance of Minas-Faerie.

“Greetings. Come. You are the first non-Allanean to enter this building. Come. Follow me.”

Minas-Faerie is the largest private mansion in Allanea – ranging upwards for over five hundred meters, it is the household of Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky. Floor after floor are dedicated to his many insane hobbies. As the elevator speeds Sunrise and his companion – Edmond de Siecle, of course – up through the many varied floors, he gets some glimpse – models of armored vehicles, impressionist and realist paintings, sculpture, art, bizarre pornography, thousands of books, hunting trophies…

De Siecle himself is peculiar. Rather fattish, the man wears a black costume that looks as if it emanated from the 19th century – except all of it, down to the shirt and pocket watch, is peculiarly beige. He is bald and wearing a bowler hat – a beige bowler hat, of course. Even his hair seems died in this bizarre color.

As the elevator stops, he smiles at Sunrise.

“We needn’t speak. Only witness.”

Kazansky is in his room.

He does not look as if he sees the two men – only the woman towering over his seat.

“No point to be calling for guards. I replaced them. Yes, it was all a plan. I don’t care what you think. The larger point is… I know about the Room.”

“You…”

“I know that you didn’t destroy the Room. You created a digital emulation and uploaded it to a USB device. Interestingly, it’s this very device.”

She demonstrates a small black item so both Kazansky and the other people in the room can see it.

“I have a copy of it, as you understand. Don’t ask how I procured it. I also know you had a cyberlink made so you could interface directly with the device. It’ on your left arm, right?”

“I will fucking murder you!” – the President screams.

Vicky smiles. “Unfortunately, it won’t help. I’m doing this for you, Alex.”

“The fuck you are!”

“You’re mad. I’ve looked at the stuff there. You’re a stalker. You need help, Alex. And you are going to accept this help.”

“…I am? What the fuck are you talking about, you sorry, living-metal-sucking, necrontyr whore! You sorry slut, you better…”

“Simple. I’ve made copies of this. One word from me – and you can guess who I will mail them to – and I know that you’re embarrassed by the existence of this data. It’s the only thing you can be embarrassed by. So… here’s the deal. You have to, first of all, appoint me vice-President. Then you will take immediate and indefinite medical leave in Dr. Blindermann’s institution. The papers are all on your desk.”

One will spare the reader the long argument that ensues – but we all know the power of successful blackmail.

An hour later, Kazansky is out of the room – accompanied by ‘de Siecle’. Victoria is alone with Sunrise, holding in her lap the papers that make her the new President of Allanea.

“No, my friend. You’re not getting a copy of what’s on this device. I’m not that stupid. But as to other stuff… I’m ready to answer questions.”

Colony World Erisavefana [‘Universal Liberty’] North Western Continent, Sisters of Liberty Chapter Lodge

Ranisath leaned back in his chair and looked out over the dramatic valley laid out below. Conifer trees and a dramatic waterfall made up the far side. Strangely, the place had been like this before the ‘Menelmacari’ arrived, though they’d made some tweaks to the environment – a little more stable here, a little more chaotic there, dropped its temperature a few degrees. On paper, the world was a C’tan-Menelmacari owned agricultural-planet, growing everything from cereals to wood.

It had been one of the more lasting effects of the Menelmacari-Allanean treaty. The idea had been that the foreigners settled on this planet would affect the Allaneans the next planet over (Ranisath did know who’d terraformed the place originally too, of course). In the mean time, he’d been using it for something of a social experiment. He’d sectioned off a mid-size sub-continent on the planet, with conditions approximating a ‘virgin’ United States of America (save that the real owners had gravships) and encouraged the Allaneans in.

Now, conventional wisdom said that encouraging Allaneans in was a sort of suicide. And so, it was slightly different – the whole area was administered as a private estate open to all ‘Greater Menelmacari’ citizens, and those who were allowed to settle permanently were generally the element in Allanea who considered Ranisath to be worthy of worship or devotion.

As such, it was something of a reserve for those he actually liked (they ‘liked’ him, which he would generally reciprocate) to avoid the occasional Allanean war and unpleasant policy change. At present it had a growing population of six hundred thousand spread out in wooden cabins and lodges in numerous diffuse homesteads and villages.

This one he was in was something slightly unusual. It was a military base that was home to about fifty members of the strange fundamentalist military group established by Victoria Sheshet in his name. There were about ten thousand of those warrior nuns in the ‘reserve.’ Ranisath found them amusing, given his history but he didn’t generally visit them for pleasure.

He finished writing, and folded the letter into an envelope, and his hand flitted across it ‘Victoria Sheshet.’ He passed the white envelope to a woman kneeling before him, “See that this reaches your sister,” he said.

"Congratulations are in order, I suppose," he replied, maintaining a cool exterior. "I hope, President Sheshet, that this marks a new era for the United States of Allanea."

He cringed inwardly, "Of course, that all depends on your actions from here on. Kazansky has unfortunately left you with quite the mess, and just cleaning it up with take some time, patience, and effort."

"I'm not going to lie to you, President. We've been disappointed in the past, and probably aren't going to risk open diplomacy with you for quite some time. But as they say, 'Proof is in the Pudding'. Cook it well, and you'll begin to see some real positive results."

"Until then..." he allowed his voice to trail off.

"On a more positive note, the transition was well executed, and you've already shown a degree of promise. If you become who we are all counting on you to become, then we look forward to doing business with you in future."

'Sunrise' stood to his feet, "Is there anything else you will need me for, President Sheshet?"

“Oh, but Mr. Sunrise, that’s why I am here you understand. And that’s why you are here. I would like you to have my complete assurances that the United States is going to be headed into a new, saner direction. I would like you to – of course –talk to your people about, say, refounding your embassy in Liberty-City. Something like this. As for me, I am about to make my first executive order.”

“Tomorrow is Independence Day. To celebrate that, three million soldiers will be put on leave, and the readiness level dropped to Green – that’s the first time in Allanean history it drops to Green. Additionally, I will be petitioning Congress to remove Amestria from the list of terrorist nations, and to add several dozen real terrorist organizations instead.”

“With the exception of undercover operations, I will order the withdrawl of all Allanean forces from overseas – this includes Iragia, Strator, and any location where Allanea’s long and sometimes pointless crusades have taken them. This will be the first act of President-for-Life Sheshet. You will see many more.”

“Any special requests you would like to have before you leave, Sunrise?”

Elsewhere

“Oh… you bastards…” – Kazansky doubles over as the bracelets clamp over his hands. They are not interconnected, but it seems the mere touch of the bracelets on his skin causes him to double over and retch horribly.

De Siecle laughs. “It’s dweomerite. Surely you know what dweomerite is, Alex. It blocks magical and spellcasting abilities – and, as we can presently see, it’s effect on those with the gift of magic is quite… uncomfortable.”

“More interestingly, your physical strength appears to be linked to your strange powers – right now you’re only as strong as your body mass allows… and I don’t think that’d allow for you struggling with me. Grab him, boys.”

Kazansky struggles feebly as he’s forced into a car. “Where are we…”

“Doctor Blindermann’s institution. A mental facility somewhere in San Nereiana.”

'Sunrise' nodded respectfully, and smiled politely. "I can only do my best."

Soon, the operative with no identity found himself on a flight back to Anatoba City. With his mission now complete, he also knew that his future as an agent within Allanea was finished; the new government had gotten to learn what he looked like, how he spoke, what he sounded like, et cetera. All of these rendered him useless to ANSIO as an undercover agent there.

For most, this would have meant certain retirement. For 'Sunrise', it meant a short holiday with protection within the Union, and then relocation to a new and exciting arena.

Liberty-City, in a pub

“What do you mean a reshuffling of the Coalition?”

“Yeah. They've kicked the Libs out. It's now a Republican-Democrat-Constitutionalist thingus. Don't really ask me why, I suppose it fits the reforms Sheshet wants better.”

Outside Allanea, people would be noticing the 'reshuffling' first. The Diplomatic Service was rapidly increasing its staff, and buildings that once held two or three men and their secretaries now were swiftly becoming large complexes with phone question-and-answer centers and reception hallf. Now, of course, this was not needed within every nation, but the Allaneans were going for it with the same overkill as they previously went for enhancing their military strength.

Other bills were accepted, too – the teachers' licensing bill was resubmitted, and promptly voted upon by the new Coalition. So was a Medical Care For The New Century Act (that named Phoenix Corporation as a major recipient of subsidies for their private hospitals – and also established, for the first time in Allanean history, a network of state hospitals throughout the nation.)

Across the nation, the wires were aflame with Sheshet's executive orders. Experimental weapon facilities were put on standby, and the construction of the defensive lines on the southern shores was 'temporarily closed for funding'. Retired soldiers were happy since they now received even greater pensions, and enlisted troops were happy since they preferred lounging in their tents and bunks to running large-scale exercise – Sheshet cancelled Operation Wind Of Change and Operation Freedom's Fire in a single go, saving the Department billions of dollars.

'Sunrise', if he were watching, would notice an interesting thing.

The new Vice-President – George Trevett – stood next to Sheshet in all her receptions. He looked not unlike de Siecle. Even his beige hat was still there.

Somewhere

“Now, my boy, if you want your problem resolved, you must admit you have a problem...”

“I do not have a problem. It's ridiculous.”

“You do not?”

This went on for hours. The treatment... the treatment was amazing – in the sense of 'I didn't know psychiatric clinics still do that', not in the sense of 'amazingly good'. The people who worked the clinic – the Chief Physician, Doctor Abraham Blindermann, and all his underlings – have apparently been taken from some weird nation where none new who Allaneans were and who Kazansky was – just so that their treatment of him would be 'unpersonal'.

There was electroshock treatment – though he never remembered signing a paper authorizing it. Though I'm sure that if someone insist, this Blindermann character will produce my signature on some paper... There were drugs – first, anti-depressants to get him off 'his obsessions', and later on other, weirder concoctions.

On the fifth day, someone had the bright idea to tie him to a bed for the entire day – he didn't quite know why, but then he didn't expect to know why. I wonder – he thought, staring at the ceiling – does Vicky know she consigned me to this?

Liberty-City

“Hereby, under Executive Order VS-0002, I order Allanea’s stockpile of drone infantry and ground forces to be unmothballed. They will be incorporated under the authority of the Civil Rights Enforcement and Soliciting Team, and deployed throughout the big cities of Allanea – Liberty-City, Port-Allanea, Heston-City, Gush-Katif, and so on and so forth, to augment the power of local law enforcement by the deployment of ten million drones of various firepower. They will also be used as part of Allanea’s border patrol forces, to augment and strengthen the nation’s border patrol capacity…”

Victoria smiled as she looked off one of the lower balconies of Minas Faerie. Below her, open-topped trucks carrying a variety of dark-blue colored drones swept through the city. Now, instead of one beat cop per two thousand people, there would six – if you counted the robots as cops, of course.

Of course, this required some stretching of the authority of CREST – but, as de Siecle had pointed out to her, not being robbed or raped was as much a civil right as anything else was – and, privately, many city councilors were happy about the effect this was about to have.

It was clear now that de Siecle was a wise man – he showed to her that there were many things that needed to be done if Allanea were to become a modern state – and that these things would need doing, even if the letter of the law did not allow them. And so an order was made for a large amount of ‘battle-droids’ – inefficient, horrid devices, really – that would be repainted dark-lbue and made into Department of State equipment. Their job officially would be to provide security to foreign embassies in Allanea. Unofficially they’d be yet another remote-controlled ‘police’ outfit, to scare criminals and thugs in Liberty-City and the other big cities into submission

Looking at the crime figures, it did seem to work.

De Siecle noted as he read the police reports. Security inside Allanea was becoming a major political issue now. ANN and several major newspapers (where he had favors or had pulled strings) published several articles about crime – and Liberty Times was quickly sucked into the trend. Everybody was saying the same things – Allanea needed better, more streamlined police forces, and the Government had to find a way to do it within the limits of the Constitution.

This was well. He knew Sheshet was already pulling strings in Congress to get a vote for a Unified Federal Law Enforcement Act. And of course, there would be amendments in it. Amendments not even most of the Congress would be aware of, hidden in paragraph 465B on page 5700 of the Act, for example. This was part of the plan, of course. There were quite a few things going on that he could not quite trust Sheshet with – yet.

In the meanwhile, there were separate Federal police forces set up – not just under CREST, but under the Department of Education and the Department of State, as well. In the meanwhile, the 'Soliciting' part of CREST was scaled down slowly, but surely.

Sheshet did not realize it yet, but Kazansky was not the only person that was being blackmailed. The current head of CREST, Peter Novotny, was long a soft puppet in de Siecle's hands – and so, very soon, Sheshet would begin to receive reports from a person who seemed not to like Siecle – and even professed to hate the Vice President – that agreed with the findings regarding the need for a unified law enforcement system.

And already, CREST made a contact with the Pilonese for a new 'drone' to reduce the amount of personnel needed for the Border Patrol while increasing effectiveness. The details were kept secret.

A small step for de Siecle… – chuckled the Vice President – A big step for progress… or is it the other way around?

Shopping Street, Liberty-City, Allanea

The shopping street was, as usual, busy with Allaneans going about their casual shop tours, buying or just staring at random items. Some woman was searching for a new pair of boots, some man was looking for a new camouflaged vest, a bunch of teenagers was walking down the street with a bored look upon their faces.

Lilian Smith-Kazansky was staring around at the display windows, leading her impressive bodyguard from shop to shop. By that moment in time, however, the bodyguard resembled more a pack mule than somebody who was really expected to protect his client.

The pair was quickly spotted by three youngsters that were smoking cannabis in one of the side alleys, most surely due to the woman’s horrible hallucinogenic red hair. By this moment in time, quite a pile of finished joints was by their feet. They stared for a moment, one of them muttering something, before they stood up and dispersed, entering the crowd. Two of the young men actually followed the woman, the third vanishing somewhere in a side street.

When they got closer to the victim, they pulled their hoods up, one of them running up to the bodyguard and, extracting a good old 9mm handgun unloaded a bullet into the back of the man’s head. For a second there was silence and then there were panicked cries. Lilian turned around, wide eyed, staring at the attacker as he reached out for her handbag and pulled it roughly.

“Give it, bitch! GIVE!”

Instinctively, she clang to her belongings and that was when the second youngster ran up, opening his vest and revealing a sawed off shotgun. There was a second shot, even more yells of panic around them as the crowd began to go wild, with people trying to flee the scene. Half the woman’s right side was blown into the air, spraying blood over the two bandits and over those still close to them.

“The fuck you did!? THE FUCK YOU DID?” Shouted the one with the handgun, seemingly nervous.

“The fuck! You fucking shot the guy! RUN MO’! RUN!” yelled the second, grabbing the handbag from the woman’s hand and running off.

The first youngster gave a glance around, spotted a police officer pointing him with his handgun.

“Don’t move!” he heard.

“FUCK YOU DON’T MOVE!”

The bandit unloaded his magazine into the direction of the policeman just as he began running away. The officer ducked for cover, and then opened fire at the running bandit, missing. More shots were fired as Allanean passers by came to spirits and got hold of their own weapons, trying to hit the fleeing hooded person. The youngster tried to get into a car which sped along a side-road, seemingly with his accomplices in it, but they did not stop. He got hit and fell down, another series of bullets ending his life abruptly.

Mere moments later, the remaining duo would vacate their vehicle and continue their escape on foot. From this moment on, they no longer were panicked youths that had too much cannabis. From this moment on, they were “particular tasks” operatives of the Black Widow Free Mercenary Corps. Their young looks were due to their Taraskath roots, their experience was due to service with a Special Operations Regiment of the TNDF before retiring to more lucrative jobs. They would vanish, without traces, only to reappear again when time was right.

Moments later, the police would find the handgun and later on the shotgun. No fingerprints could be picked up, just microscopic bits of woolen and leather gloves. The third man of the team, a random Allanean junkie picked by the Mercs for the opportunity to serve as a "lead away", was dead. All would point that a bunch of junkies had too much weed and decided to play Robin Hoods, shooting everything in their wake. With Allanea’s lax laws on soft drugs and weapons, what could one expect?

[OOC: One down, one to go. Leaving you the reaction, so I can plan out the next killing better.]

At Angelica Murphy-Kazansky's home, ten days later

"Oh no, ma'am. We believe this not to be an assassination. We believe this to be a random robbery. They still do happen, you know. This county needs more cops, if you ask me. It ain't enough to have just me in this here county and me two deputies. Oh sure, sure the Federal robo-cops help, there just ain't enough of 'em, if you know what I mean… now, I'm really sorry about your friend. What we'll do is put a protective squad near your house – that's police speak for Deputy Jones and Deputy Smarms passing by your home in their squad cars in shifts. And I spoke to the security company that sent your bodyguard – they'll be putting three guards to protect you –and I think one of them is not even a shkaf, if you be gettin' mah drift, ma'am. Actually served in the Marines, the guy did."

Angelica nodded. She was still dumbfounded by the entire thing. "Lilian rarely even came out of the house… spent most of her time at home posting on weird forums and stuff, playing online games. I can't believe someone's luck can possibly be so bad… but then here it is, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I think if the Good Lord thinks it's time to go, it's time to go. Lilian was a fine person, a pillar of the community an' all, if you ask me. You know she donated to the Flint County Orphans' And Abandoned Children's home, right?"

"Oh, I didn't. She was always in front of her computer, I didn't know she donated to charity or stuff… she was always a very quiet, private person…"

ANN Talk Show 'On The Hour'

"Mr. Noden here is a Libertarian Congressman, with – currently – thirty million endorsements, and one of the leaders of the Libertartian Party of Allanea. Mr. Noden, why is it that, despite of the latest spat of random murders – one of them being the tragic death of one of the wives of President Alexander Kazansky himself – do you continue to claim that Allanea does not need a bigger, more centralized police force? Don't you care about the safety of the citizen?"

"First of all, they're not citizens. They're Freemen. And second, I believe that the Constitution needs to be observed. Until such a time that the Constitution is amended, a Federal police force is not a good or bad idea – it's simply a crime, and politicians who vote for it need to be arrested and tried under the Civil Rights Act."

"Mister Noden, are you implying that the Constitution is more important then the lives of Allanean Freemen?"

The Senate, a speech by Senator Frederick Needworthy, D-Hash

"Yes, yes, yes and yes! I don't care what the Libertarians say! Fuck the Libertarians, I say! What is important is the right to life. The government exists to enforce the right of the citizens. We must not be blinded by arbitrary barriers to our thought when we seek ways to protect the life and property of our fellow man from aggression! The small-time criminal from within is more dangerous then the communist general without – and yet, for too long, Allanea had ignored the former!"
The Department of Education, Speech By the Secretary of Education

"In the meanwhile, as the security situation continues to deteriorate, I have authorized the deployment of 1.4 million clonetroopers throughout the grounds of Allanea's public schools, to protect and serve the Allanean children and their parents. We must make Allanea safe – from within as well as from without!"

"Does he realize crime is actually falling?" – whispered a reporter from Net News Daily as he bent over to his colleague.

"Yes, but perception of crime is rising. That's far more important…"

Angelica Murphy-Kazansky's Residence

It was late night. The sky was covered in clouds, which made the night particularly dark, a perfect setting for a group of five men which stealthily made its way towards the house. An acute observer would notice that their suits automatically blended into the surrounding colour scheme. Full optical camouflage was not available to Free Mercenary Corps. But the standard and rather old “chameleon” system was rather common amongst those FMCs that had the funds to pay for them and the operatives that actually knew how to use them, for the suits used a “telepathic” connection with the person wearing them, reading the world through their senses and adapting the colour patterns. The operative, thus, had to know how to behave. An untrained person would just pop up as a bright hallucinogenic rainbow.

The Black Widow FMC had the funds. It had the operatives. And it had a customer interested in making a target’s death seem like random crime. Does random crime happen at homes with four bodyguards and periodic police patrols? Not really, no. No robber would dare peek in. Of course, the operatives could just blow the house up, but then it would look suspicious. They could blow the entire neighbourhood up at a single moment, but random street criminals don’t have such means. What means do random criminals have? Pipe bombs, for example, are very effective at setting houses ablaze. Problem is that in most cases the victims manage to get alive.

And to prevent the victims from getting out alive, the five operatives had a plan. The group moved unspotted towards the walls as the neighbours were sleeping, checking of video surveillance cameras and finding none. For additional security, the suits stenched random garbage, in case any dogs were around. Human scents would make them bark, but trash?

A bulky bodyguard patrolled around the perimeter, but he was quickly apprehended and a strong sedative was injected. He would die, but later. The backdoor’s lock was opened with the bodyguard’s key. And a fiber-camera was inserted, checking for surveillance cameras, yet again finding none. The lights in the houses were dimmed and the operatives entered stealthily, spreading around the room. Two additional bodyguards in various rooms on the first storey were quickly neutralized in the same manner as their first counterpart.

The last, however, would prove a problem as the images from the camera indicated. The door leading into Angelica’s bedroom on the second storey was situated in a brightly lid corridor. The stairs came up at one end of the corridor, which continued to end in a barricaded and shut window. The last bodyguard was seated in such a manner as to have his back to the barricaded window, while his eyes surveyed the corridor. A number of guns were on a table next to him, and his right hand was holding an automatic pistol. And with the amount of lights, no chameleon outfit would help.

Turning the lights off was out of the question, too. The bodyguard had an alarm button right next to him and would surely hit it the moment anything went wrong. Whether cops would come or not was not important, an alarm meant suspicion of a break in, and there was supposed to be no break in what so ever. This is why using lethal weapons was out of the question: burnt victims would not have holes in them. Moreover, they could not wait eternally for the bodyguard would surely soon call out to his colleagues to check if everything was fine. And if they didn’t answer, he’d push the button.

Finally, the most obvious and blunt way of going in was put into use. The operatives simply rushed suddenly at the man, special handguns spitting forth several darts. The bodyguard’s eyes went wide. After all, he didn’t prove as professional as he first appeared. He knew the theory, but his practical skills were less honed. In just two seconds, he was lying on the floor, the alarm button safely out of his reach.

The commotion did manage to wake Angelica up and she called out for the bodyguard. Not hearing his name in return, she stood up and opened the door. But before she could even scream, a pair of strong arms pulled her into the corridor and put her to sleep.

“Excellent,” the group’s leader spoke. “Phase 2.”

“All this is going to cost the customer an extra,” one of the operatives said, dragging Angelica down the corridor.

“Just proceed with phase 2.”

The operatives proceeded to place the bodies in various parts of the house, making it seem as if the victims were trying to escape the blazes. Angelica and the professional bodyguard were left in the stairs. Two of the shkafs were spread around the house. The third would burn outside, making it appear as if he had the time to run out, while ablaze, and collapsed outside.

When Phase 2 was over, the five operatives left the house and sneaked stealthily into the street, vanishing. Twenty minutes later, Phase 3 would commence as four hooded youngsters made their way through the street, entering gardens and spraying various graffiti’s on house walls. “DEAT BOURGEOISIE!” “CHE LIVES!” “REVOLUTION FTW!” And so on and so forth.

Not only on Angelica’s house. In fact, several of the houses were sprayed. And then pipe bombs flew through the windows as several houses on the lane began smoking. The bandits did not have the time to set them all on fire, but in mere minutes half a dozen homes were going up in flames, with additional pipe bombs and simple molotovs going off in random areas. The gangsters vanished into the night.

The firefighters would not have the time to save all the houses and there would surely be casualties. One of them in particular (since it was helped burn down faster), as five scorched corpses would be found later on, scattered in all positions throughout the area. The poor victims did not have the time to get to safety and the one that managed to get out did not get far, by sad irony.

* * *

To: Mister John Smith
From: Karlic Jewelry
Subject: Ear Rings

Dear Sir,

The pair of ear rings you ordered has been completed. We shall dispatch delivery upon reception of the full payment of the order.

Thank you for choosing our House.

In Congress

"But this abominable! Can't you see crime is actually dropping? We have it at 1.75 homicides per-"

The Libertarian representative gasps in horror as his endorsement rating begins to drop – thousands of viewers are typing frenziedly away at their computers, shifting endorsement towards Republican and Democrat Congress members. Within seconds, the 10.5-million endorsement count becomes a 9.6 million endorsement count – and it keeps falling. Honorable Newt Johnson needs to make a choice between his career and his principles, and to make it fast.

And before he can even make the decision, he is interrupted: "Look here! Both of the wives of Mr. Kazansky are victims to completely random crime! It can't happen by chance! It simply can't!"

There's a deafening silence in the hall, and Honorable Ashton Smith (Democrat) continues – "And by this I mean your statisticians are clearly wrong! Clearly if two of the nation's most famous women are victims of random crime within several weeks, something is wrong with the statisticians that claim crime is low! Clearly then, your statisticians have screwed up – unless you're one of those maniac types that claim it was all a government conspiracy or something."

There was an uneasy chuckle through the Hall.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, there is only one solution! We must vote for the police unification bill, and vote for it now! We must protect the children of Allanea! There is only one way!"

And so, amid falling Libertarian political fortunes, the coalition had handily approved the Act – uniting the Embassy Security Guard, CREST, the Border Patrol, and the Education Security Force into a single Federal Security Police unit.

Now – so viewers were told – they had nothing to worry about.

ANN Newscast

As the universe moves onwards to progress, we in Allanea are continuing the installation of the MCD-1 Police Satellites. So far, six of them have been installed in Earth Orbit. The design of the satellites remains absolutely and perfectly secret, as it's uncovering would…

Today, the increasingly Coalition-dominated Congress has voted to, once more, increase the funding of the Department of State, as requested by the President pro-tempore, Victoria Sheshet. The Libertarian leader in Congress, Martha Longbaum…

Read More

Border Patrol personnel in Allanea are increasingly bolstered with drone technology and increasingly deployed outside the border regions. Today, AAU drones colored in Border Patrol colors have been spotted at several of Allanea's major airports…

Read More

The states of Hash and Ngmweni are now joined by the state of Aissur in being the few states in Allanea which regulate the content of homeschooling and private schools. As the governor of Aissur had said today: "It is important – nay, necessary – for us to ensure…"

Read More

As a national first, the Senate Way and Means committee is now considering the creation of an Interstate Commerce Council, meant first and foremost to enforce the nations first network neutrality law – also under discussion in Congress. As Senator Ashton Briggs had said today: "If we want freedom of speech, one of the most sacred freedoms in the Allanean Constitution…"

Read More

The Allanean branch of Phoenix Corp, recently bloated to a larger size than they had been previously observed the actions taken with increasing alarm.

"It would seem things are changing here. This new leader doesn't seem to be properly informed of decisions, I think it might be wise to pursue a means of getting the voice of business into the Allanean Cabinet, and while we're at it, we should probably remind the Allanean people that their livelihood depends on a strong economy."


"I think you are overreacting, all they are doing is increasing security, there HAS been an increase in violent crime in recent years."

"Something the Conservatives are careful to remind it's citizens. Just remember one thing, those same people are advocates of a stronger government, and a greater restriction on personal freedom. I believe many secretly desire a government that controls it's people, not the other way around."

"Ah, like in classic old Earth politics, where the Conservatives took away power on the premise that the people were not safe, and once they got that power they didn't give it up.... Well perhaps you're right, what do you suggest we do?"

"Lets talk to Marketing, I think we need to start a new advertising campaign, its too early to do anything just yet, but in case things go downhill we can launch. Remind the people that increased security comes at a cost, and the cost will be their financial security. Freedom is an abstract, their wallets aren't."


The Executives forwarded a proposal to Marketing, a major advertising campaign was to be prepared, just in case things continued the way they seemed to be, they would advocate increased liberty to ensure continued financial security, implying that giving up liberties to the government would mean they would lose employment.

Another message was drafted and sent to the office of the President, congratulating her on her election, and offering the services of an Economic Consultant.

They continued to monitor the situation in the Allanean Politics.

The former Imperial embassy was not in a particularly prestigious neighbourhood, so far as neighbourhoods in the Allanean capital wouldn't be considered particularly prestigious anywhere in the Divine Imperium. Its huge black walls loomed over the surrounding 'squalor', a beacon of menace in a 'chaotic' city. It was also completely, eerily, silent. No one went in, no one went out, and the gate had been sealed for nearly two months now.

One night the neighbours went to sleep, though, and the next they woke up to find the gates wide open, the Imperial flag over the central tower, and Roanians with guns lounging in the sun once more. All was as it had been prior to the diplomatic breach. Well, not quite all. A Felinoid worker came out carrying a sign and hit it repeatedly with a vibrohammer, pounding the wood into the stone. The sign advised all present that for the foreseeable future Imperial Travel visas to Darsalin Base and the rest of the Divine Imperium were available once again, all former investments would be honoured to the full extent of contract law, and anyone for whom the recent troubles had caused hardship would be reasonably compensated.

Even Lady Hawk was back, reclining in her comfortable chair and watching out the window as Roanian Legionnaires patrolled back and forth in the plaza in front of the walls. Quietly tendrils were sent out to the buildings and businesses around the neighbourhood through the consumer division of the embassy, contacting landlords and other businessowners, making large offers in precious metal, gems or menelmacari credits for the freeholds of any building they could find. The offers tended to be more than any of the buildings was actually worth.

OOC: In actual fact, Pilon, violent crime in Allanea is decreasing. This was mentioned in the thread somewhere...

IC:

From: Reijiro Techno, DREAD
To: Vice President of Allanea and Chief of SecPOL

If you want the satellites cheaper, I suggest you start making these modifications (attached). The radiation would be now FD-556X instead of GG-F56N. It's almost the same, but the devices will sharply fall in price. Attached blueprints. Of course, the letter is classified Eyes Only. Destroy after reading.

Yours, R.

* * *

"The Pilonese! Damn them. Their advertisement program is actually working. The coalition is falling in popularity – and that bitch Sheshet is using it to throttle me. Damn, damn, and damn.”

"You know, this is perhaps time...”

"No. I will only move when the Coalition is strong, and now were are not. We are not some petty power mongers, Nikon. We are working for Allanea and for progress. But I wonder... perhaps Phoenix are petty. We are not, but they may be.”

"What do you mean, Ed?”

"I want you to talk to someone in Congress... we need to look like we care about the military. Make out some huge military contract to go to Phoenix. Say, production of some horrible destructive drone. Perhaps we can bribe them..."

ANN

"In other news, three more states have adapted school-inspection laws... Vehicle licensing laws introduced in Ngmweni..."

The Sakkran ambassador to Allanea in charge of the Military Reform Commitee looked over the virtual sheafs of data scrolling before him. "Very good Captain Bezzt, Lieutenant Sseerad and Sergeant Major Hrakk." He closed up the display and steepled his fingers. "You've done all you can with the material we were provided. Psychological profiles, response times and judiciousness in action seem up to standards we hoped for. Now if only we could do something about the government ...... ah, but that was not what was asked of us."

The trio saluted as Captain Bezzt spoke up. "Sir, what will occur here considering the state of affairs as they stand?"

The ambassador rolled his eyes towards a wall showing a map of the surrounding area. "We'll remain here. Skeen agents are being deployed from here on recon to see what the climate is like. If it gets hairy, we evac. But I think we'll be able to remain. We have a fair amount of land here under our jurisdiction. And yes, I know about the unstable nature of the government and how its 'diplomatic' measures are an unpopular thing. But i'll remain and report to the Emperor as things unfold. Who knows; there might be an opportunity that will arise that will benefit the Herpetological Empire. In the meantime, i'm releasing some of the data from our reform measures to the public."

The ambassador stood and bowed low as the trio saluted and left to return to Sakkran lands. Now how to word this thing? he keyed up his organic system again and began composing.

**********************************************************
General release of info in the context of Allanean Naval Command Reforms implemented.

Nearly one year ago we of the Herpetological Empire were approached by the Allanean government to take into action reform measures within the military body of the Allanean Navy. The essence of this being so that the incident at New Wuhan would not be repeated. We have done as asked, and some reults are available to be made public.

After Months and months of training, a centralized core of officers have been instilled with renewed sense of personal pride. It is anticipated that this would spread through the ranks of their subordinates as these retrained officers would possess an aura of leadership. Subordinates would follow their orders not only because it's what's expected of them, but because it would give them a sense of pride as well to serve under those that had an air of true competence about them. Dramatic changes in the physicality of the command body would not be overtly noticeable, but mental accuity is honed, and reaction time has increased by over 10%.

Skills and tactics meant to streamline operation effectiveness were taught, tested and taught again until seamless efficiency resulted. What once would take several warfleets to accomplish could now be done with 1/4 of the forces in half the time. The gravity of battle-field decisions were instilled in each one, so that hasty and ill-planned actions would no longer be the norm. The edict of 'put yourself in their shoes' has been drilled time and again to create a more empathetic command body that would no longer seek wholesale destruction, but instead would seek a solution that would minimize loss of life and properties on both sides.

It has also been implemented, and this is crucial in our eyes, that every core commander now has improved in each and everyone one of them the ability to judge not only theirselves but those around them as to be fit for duty, or if their own or another's command should be relieved depending on the situation.

These core commanders are as of now released from our ministrations into the hands of whatever governing body exists for Allanea. May they be used wisely and efficiently.

Official Message from Vice-President George Trevett

We thank the Sakkran nation in general and their military apparatus in particular for helping reform the Allanean Navy away from it's normal doctrines of horrendous overkill, mass-destruction, and general ineptness. It will be the new leaders of this military – it's brain – that will be the future of our nation as it marches on towards a new – progressive – future, a future where every individual is truly sacred and cared after by the community entire, and where even military doctrines are made humane and compassionate.

We in Allanea believe that the time for a military reform is long past, and we thank the Sakkrans for allowing this to happen.

This is also a time to reform the purposes of the Navy. It will now be shifted from the old, imperialist, 'force-projection' role to a new, more peaceful, homeland defense role. The navy will now be deployed mostly away from Sol, in Outer Rim colonies – in the Miriel system (soon to be renamed), the New Idaho and Zarahemla systems mainly, but also at Midna Ceti and in our enclaves within the Galactic Empire territories. Two battlefleets will also be retained at Mercury and New Alaska, but, given the normal amount of firepower people swing about in Sol, these remain of mostly symbolic quality.

Furthermore the Allanean military in general, while not downscaled per se, will now be put on the lowest readiness level possible, to save funds and reduce tensions on the Haven level.

The money saved from cutting down on useless military adventures – relics of a bygone era – will be diverted to internal security and social welfare.

Even now, the Allanean government is contemplating a network of low-cost outdoors surveillance in Liberty-City, to be erected from these savings to protect the National Monuments. Of course, the system will be outdoors only and – our experts suggest – will not violate anybody's privacy.

With many thanks to the Sakkrans that enabled these and many other reforms,
George Trevett, Vice-President of Allanea

Official Announcement from President pro-tempore of the United States of Allanea, Victoria Sheshet

Let it not be said my Administration does not care about the defense of the Motherland. We have acquired, from the Midlonians, production rights for the Hood plasma tank, to become the new main battle tank of the United States. The purchase of a complement of Hood tanks will be put in this year's appropriation bill, as well as the construction of sixteen floating Quarantine and Containment Facilities in the Northern Allanean Sea of Haven, the endowment of 46 special professional high schools for future SecPol officers, and other important new items, necessary for Allanea to become a modern nation.

Phoenix Corporation - Allanean Branch

Good morning my fellow sentients, I hope you all rested well for the couple hours last night before I called this emergency meeting.

(Mumbles and several the sounds of pills and drinks being swallowed)

If you would, please link in to Ms. Lavandar's node. Download the synopsis of her experience as adviser to the President.

(Several minutes pause)


"As you can all see, there is something, VERY wrong with the current administration. My guess would be that the President herself is mostly in the dark about most of this, she seemed genuinely interested in our advise. The real problem is someone in her cabinet. We're not exactly sure who but we have a good guess, and they are moving to keep our influence out of the politics."

"Well its obvious the Allaneans no longer want us in their nation. Under the terms of our contracts we can charge the country the collective bill for the entirety of Phoenix Corp assets and pull out now, no harm done."

"Hmm... I think you're right, according to the ledger, it would take with all the spending Allanea does currently, they will be in debt to Phoenix Corp for the next 100 years, not counting interest on the charges."

"Are we all agreed then?"

(Nods)




Message to President Victoria Sheshet
From: Phoenix Corporation, Allanean Branch

Re: Phoenix Corporation Assets.


While it is regrettable to inform you of this, our decision was unanimous. Under the terms of our contract with the businesses and government in your nation, we have the right, at any time, to immediately withdraw ownership, partial or full, and forward the bill to the government of Allanea. Should you choose to collect these assets from the businesses, have them buy them back from the government or whatever is up to you, however the debt owed to Phoenix Corporation shall be from the Allanean Government.

We are hereby notifying you that we are activating that portion of the contract and expect immediate negotiations for a payment plan to Phoenix Corporation. The collective bill will total the assessed value of all Phoenix Corp stock in the companies, assets within your territory, and the time and labor for us to withdraw from your nation, plus an assessed annual fee of 28.35%

Please make the payments in the form of the Menelmacari Credit, as we no longer recognize the current value of any Allanean Currency.

Utter confusion reigns in the Cabinet.

“They can… force us to buy them out? Is that even legal? I mean, we were never a party to the contract… we will refuse to pay!”

De Siecle shrugs. “Even if we refuse to pay, the economy will be fucked sideways with a sharp stick. And you know it. The sheer shock of that much money being withdrawn from the economy at once will send us plummeting. Think Great Depression. You must play for time… as a matter of fact… send a message to Phoenix. Ask them what reforms need to be made to get them to reconsider. Normalyl I’m not the one to suggest cowering before the corporate line… but damn it, Vicky, Allanean children starving in the streets is not a pretty sight. Tell them we’ll do what they want. We’ll even fold down the reforms…”

He ponders. Only a few weeks construction, and there won’t be any reforms needed…

He did not yet know Reijiro Techno and his wife were already knocking on the doors of the Pilonese embassy in Liberty-City.

By the time the message was broadcast, most of the Phoenix Corporation Reps were already packing their bags, in preparation to leave. Most of their personal belongings would be sold off as corporate assets to Allanea and new ones at home would be given to replace them, only non-replaceable items would be loaded.

By the time a response from the Allanean government was ordered, most of the higher ups were already on the MAGLEV headed home.

The Corporate Lawyer left behind for negotiations was escorted to the Pilonese Embassy, where he had been informed some Allanean Government Reps had been sent to meet with Phoenix Corp.

"Ah yes, good, you arrived. We were a little confused at first about what they were talking to, then we figured it out and called you down here."

The Lawyer nodded and sat down with Allaneans.

"The matter is quite simple. We have done a cost-benefit analysis of Allanea, and to be frank, it has always been very low, with the political upheaval displayed recently, as well as the obvious signs of change within your upper government levels, we no longer feel it is worth our time and effort to continue to invest in the Allanean Economy.

I don't know what kinds of leeway you are authorized to give, but we would need to see considerable assurances from your government if I am going to be able to convince the Board of Directors of the Allanean Branch of Phoenix Corporation that it's worth their time to reconsider.

If you are not authorized to give such assurances than the only thing we can discuss are the terms of payment."

“You do not understand. I no longer wish to be employed with the Allanean government. Additionally, I have proof of crimes that the current Administration is planning to commit. With the situation right now, given the fact you’re pulling out of Allanea… I think they could now put their plan into action. I do not know precisely what their plan is… but I suggest you listen to me. There is also a price for me talking. Can you guarantee the safety of my family?”

In the meanwhile, the Pilonese have gotten a message from the Allanean government. It was simple.

What would be the conditions under which you would not withdraw?

The Lawyer looked at the Allaneans in an annoyed fashion.

"I'll tell the Embassy to let you in. We can grant you refugee status and you can live in Pilon if you choose to do so. What's happening in Allanea is strictly an internal matter, and while the information you have will be helpful in the collection process for our debt, I don't think Pilon will do anything to stop it, as its not our responsibility to tell other nations how to run. Go back to the Embassy, tell them I authorized you to enter, tell them what you just told me and they will take care of everything for you."


The message from the Allanean Government was received and forwarded to the Phoenix Corp Lawyer.

He sighed and drafted a response.

"We have done a cost-benefit analysis of Allanea, and to be frank, it has always been very low, with the political upheaval displayed recently, as well as the obvious signs of change within your upper government levels, we no longer feel it is worth our time and effort to continue to invest in the Allanean Economy. If you wish the Board of Directors of the Allanean Branch to reconsider we will have to see concrete changes within the Allanean Government that satisfy their concerns."

Government Response

Just name that price.

OOC: I will post Reijiro Techno’s detailed statement when I write it, I intend it to be long-ish. He’s the former head of DREAD, he knows quite a lot – more then de Siecle/Trevett thinks.

Re: Response

This is not how things work. If the Government is not willing to lay out any concrete guarantees I will not even approach the Board of Directors to see if what you are offering is acceptable.

At this point I think it will be better to start working out a payment plan, we have a number to choose from and as we recognize this will be a difficult sum of money to pay back are willing to be quite lenient with you on paying us back, say a minimum of 1% annually if you wish.

Should you desire an alternative, we are willing to accept the entirety of Neo-Dallas as payment, transferring the territory to Phoenix Corporation control, even though this would represent a loss of total assets on our part.

Allanean Response

So what is it that you want us to guarantee? The security of your property rights? The security of your assets? We are not going to be confiscating anything or seizing anything you own.

Realize you're holding the nation at gunpoint. At least tell us what you want.

It is the opinion of Phoenix Corporation that continued investment in Allanean businesses is not worth the risk. As such we have activated the clause in our contract that will cover the losses from our investment in your national businesses.

We expect nothing less than either:

A: The immediate withdrawal of all Allaneans from Neo-Dallas and transferral of authority of the territory to Pheonix Corporation.

or

B: Payment of the sum total of Pheonix Corporation Assets within Allanean borders, totaling at 250 trillion Pis. This debt will acrue interest at 25.34% annually.

Magliozzi Conglomerate HQ, Anatoba City

"Hey Travis, have you had a look at this?"

Reading his co-worker's copy of the Financial Review, Travis reads up on the global market's most recent events; particularly an article concerning the closing relationship between Pheonix Corporation and the Allanean government.

"Wow," he exclaimed. "Two-hundred and fifty trillion, with an interest rate of twenty-five point three four percent, per annum? That's intense."

His friend, Adam, took back the magazine. "I know, can the Allanean government even afford that much?"

"I don't know exactly," Travis replied shrugging. "But what I do know, is that regardless of whether they can afford it or not, the Allanean economy is fucked."

Both gentlemen chuckled, seemingly pleased with the fact.

"You realize they do have another option, right?"

Travis nodded, "I know; 'Give up Neo-Dallas or else'? I personally would have asked for Allanea's Mercury territories as well. They'd be worth even more, not to mention it would achieve something more than just losing Neo-Dallas also."

Adam sighed. "Have the executives had a look at this? The situation has it's leverage; they're not going to want to give up Neo-Dallas."

"What do you mean?"

"Consider this," he explained further. "With such a high amount of currency and such a high interest rate, don't you think it would make for a good business opportunity if the Conglomerate offered to loan Allanea the money, at say; fifteen-percent annually?"

Travis nodded cautiously. "It would, but don't forget Adam - Austarian businesses have been banned from trading with the Allanean economy, and visa versa. There's just no way without receiving massive fines from the government, and no clauses either."

"Alas, you're right," replied Adam slightly disappointed-like. "Oh well, guess that happens when you maintain such a pointless and ridiculous foreign policy for so long."

"Look on the bright side," smiled Travis, providing a hand of comfort on his co-worker's shoulder. "At least we can make some popcorn or something and enjoy the show. What's mostly ironic, is that when such sanctions were placed on the Allanean economy, the Kazansky administration dismissed them as 'unimportant', not-'impending' at all. And now that we've had the opportunity to save their asses and not been able to, we can see just how unimportant these restrictions have proven to be."

The atmosphere relaxed, and laughter ensured.

"We do not understand. You're not going to be dropping the Phoenix Corporation assets, are you? You're going to be selling them at some reduced rate, correct? Here's what we'll do. You sell the assets on the free market, and the Allanean government – though we really don't have to do this, we only do this since you're forcing us – will cover the difference."

"Either this – or, since you claim not to need these assets anyway, give them to the Allanean Federal government, and we'll swiftly re-sell them to cover at least some of the sum – and then pay the rest in installments."

Elsewhere

"Contact We Buy It, Inc. Surely they'll want the stock."

Yet elsewhere

The message from Reijiro Techno was addressed to entities within the Menelmacari, Pilonese, and Dersconi government, as well as anybody remotely friendly to Allanea – what best way to avoid being killed for knowing too much other then to make it all public?

It listed the eight 'mind control' sattelites in orbit over Allanea, and the two dozen fake ones sabotaged by Techno. It pointed that Kazansky was imprisoned and bound in dweomerite – though Techno didn't know were. And, finally, Techno applied for asylum in the C'tan portion of Greater Menelmacar for himself and his wife.

OOC: I'd type this as an actual comminique, but someone didn't want to wait until tomorrow ;)

Global Tetrahedron Inc. would be happy to exchange $20 trillion in liquid assets (i.e. cash and cash equivlents) for approx. $25 trillion in Phoneix Corporation assets. Furthermore, if the Allanean government can wait a quarter or two, which does not seem to be the case, we will be able and willing to invest even more.

A very elegant piece of paper was directed to the Allanean government, with the letters etched in gold ink.

Greetings good sirs! We understand you're in a spot of bother with another corporation. We appreciate the major damage this could cause to your economy and we propose a solution, wherein we will pay you 52 trillion for 50 trillion worth of their assets, and we will also provide any further resources you might need.

~Kingpin Industrial Enterprises


Meanwhile, the area around the embassy was filled with an influx of hired workers and builders engaged in what appeared to be a massive development scheme. A little sign posted by the entrance read, "Elysium Development Company".

New Akavar is requesting for the same of 50 trillion USD worth of stock be sold to the national government for the price of 52 trillions USD to be payed over a period of 5 year at 4 interest.

I think a clarification is in order. The Assets are now owned by the Allanean government, the 250 Trillion is a bill sent to the Allanean Government from PC to cover these costs.

The vast majority of these assets are in the form of Banking Loans to Allanean Businesses, while the rest include the MAGLEV network, and any administrative buildings built by PC.

The Allanean government can sell off the assets or sell stocks, however with the giant reduction in the overall size of Allanean's circulating money the currency is plummeting, by as much as 1000% should no other nations buy back the assets to put money back into the Economy.

(OOC:)
Since Allanean uses NS Tracker, these values are determined based off of NS Tracker, so any loans given will also be determined based off of the results in NS Tracker, make sure to take into account funds already spent elsewhere when considering loans.

Should no foreign money be poured back into the Allanean economy, the value of the Allanean Currencies will plummet and the value of the assets will be reduced, though the size of the bill will remain the same.

OOC: THe point is thus: I will be creating a number of companies which are owned by the government of Allanea, and reselling them to cover the immense debt. Only in this way can I possibly pay off this humongous sum of money.

A second message was broadcast to all nations and companies who have expressed interest in Allanean assets, explaining the reason Phoenix Corporation pulled out in the first place before they put themselves in the same situation.


Based on intelligence gathered, Phoenix Corp is reasonably sure that the Allanean government is planning to make reforms within their nation that will be very much anti-business. Any company that invests in Allanea is taking the risk that Allanea will turn around and screw the company and take the assets for themselves.

We strongly urge all interested parties to consider carefully before taking this risk.

Another letter, with the same letterhead as before, arrived on the desk of the Allanean in charge of the whole deal.

Regrettably, Kingpin Industrial Enterprises can no longer continue its business with you owing to a different agreement reached elsewhere.

Then another letter arrived, with a very slightly different letterhead.

Greetings good sirs! We understand you're in a spot of bother with another corporation. We appreciate the major damage this could cause to your economy and we propose a solution, wherein we will pay you 52 trillion for 50 trillion worth of their assets, and we will also provide any further resources you might need.

~Elysium Development Corporation

Meanwhile the signs around the construction site were changed to read 'Kingpin Industrial Enterprises'.

Message From the Allanean Government

We created a separate corporation of 50 trillion in value. It is Elysium-Allanea. You own it. Enjoy.

Message to the Pilonese

Here's the first 52 trillion dollars.

Confederate Chocolate Marketing Board Communique

We would be interested in aquiring approximately one drillion Universal Standard Dollars worth of assets in various Allanean Confectionary and Sweet production companies, in order to expand our industry and to increase trade ties between our nations.

Official Communication of the Imperial Clandonian Oil and Gas Corporation

http://www.americangeo.com/pictures/oilrig.jpg

Clandonian Imperial Oil and Gas sees this investment oporunity as highly potential, we are prepared to purchae $5 Trillion NSD worth of stock in Allanean oil, gas or petrochemical companies. We would also like to open an office and apply for drilling exploration rights in certain areas of Allanea.

Sir. Douglas Sistilin

CEO of Imperial Clandonian Oil and Gas

Message to the Spizanian, Merian, USSNA and Clandonian corporations

Thank you for your participation in this project. Deeds and titles to your stock and asset are in the mail.

OOC: Perhaps a separate thread is in order, Pilon?

Even though the construction yard changed owners last night, every employee was still there, the same person was still sitting in the office, and the same items were still being built. This was the HQ of Elysium Development Corporation. Or, rather, it was the HQ of Kingpin Industrial Enterprises, as the fresh paint now said.

"Baby, talk to me! Don't leave me hanging like that!" The man said, crossly. "Alex, honey, baby, all you need to do is sell to us. We'll let you keep the business, how 'bout that? Yes, I'm aware it's just a little grocery store. Oh, the police? Alex, sweetheart, you don't need to call the police. I'm not harassin' you! I'm just saying that sometimes you need a bit of safety in this uncertain new era Allanea is embarking on, and we's got the goods you need. This could be something new in this world! All right, hun, you think about it, hm?" He hung up and turned to his 'associates'. "She said she'll think about it, huh? Why don't you boys go and help her think?"

The secretary held up a phone. "Telephone call, Mister Desoto." A rather pert piece, she was, unlike most of the people in this room, a Roanian. Unusually, she showed no sign of distaste for being surrounded by the various humans KIE was run by. "It's Corel Casswater, from Elysium. Shall I patch him through?"

"Eh, sure, why not?"

"Desoto, are you there this time?" Corel's voice was harsh and unforgiving. "Your little ploy fell through."

"Forget about it, Corel, sweetheart..."

"Don't you start that nonsense with me, Desoto." The Roanian was sitting behind his desk, feeling the sun on his wings. "One more failure and I'll liquidate your division. Omega can't have..."

"Listen, sunshine, you need my 'division' if you want to carry this through. Who scored big in Assington, hm?" Desoto thumped the desk. "This is my planet! You can't come swanning around like you own the place!"

"Yes, Desoto, I think I can, because I now do. I own the Martian Maglev, several hundred acres of property down here, all sorts of pleasant factories and industries." Corel leaned back in his chair and looked at the ground. "And I hope to control even more soon enough. From here, Omega will be able to set up new divisions in other countries."

"Look, sweetheart, I think this Allanean business is a mistake, but don't you tell me how to do my job, right? I've got enough to do without picking up after you, brighteyes. We've got fifty tonnes of low-grade cement going through here, and I need to manage it." Desoto hung up the phone.

Corel shook it repeatedly. "Desoto? Desoto, answer this phone!" He slammed it shut. "How like a filthy human."

After taking into consideration the conversion from Allanean Currency into Menelmacari Credits we acknowledge receiving payment in the sum of 36 Trillion MCs after taking into account the conversion between MCs and the Allanean Currency.

A Letter to the Allanean Government by the Menelmacari Prefect of Trade

By the Voice and Will of Serindë nos Eärendil, Prefect of Trade of Menelmacar and High Seat of House Eärendil, given at Vinyatírion, on the thirty-fifth day of Coirë of the thirty one thousandth, eight hundred and seventy second year of the reign of Elentári Sirithil nos Fëanor.

To Victoria Sheshet, President of the United States of Allanea, from Lady Serindë nos Eärendil, greetings, may the Valar keep you.

At this time, we must regrettably close our foreign exchange account with the United States of Allanea. Due to the $250-trillion margin call you received from Phoenix Corporation, payable only in Menelmacari credits, we can only conclude that your reserves of foreign exchange will be exhausted extremely quickly - if the first payment did not blow your reserve entirely. You will thusly be needing to purchase roughly an additional M€170-trillion in short order - and that's at current exchange rates. This unprecedented demand spike will place considerable upward price pressure on the Menelmacari credit, and a corresponding downward pressure on the Allanean dollar, which will in turn require more purchases of credits... we again voice our sincerest regrets at taking this step.

It is not that we are not interested in serving the foreign exchange needs of the international community, or of Allanea. On the contrary, the credit has long been a cornerstone currency of exchange for the global and galactic economies. It is simply that we are not interested in buying what could be, at the end of the day, nearly a quadrillion Allanean dollars, that will be worth very little. It would be a catastrophically bad investment, and one we cannot make. We would suggest looking to the open forex market to meet your needs, or perhaps to look into other, similarly stable currencies such as the Sunseti di-coin or the Freestian mintel, and we are confident the Pilonese will be understanding of the situation.

Manwë keep you under the One, and send fair wind to your sails.

----

It was intended to be private. But whether by accident or design, copies were leaked to the holonets, and the story wound up in heavy rotation on the business news channels - and then the regular news channels after that. It could not be unexpected, of course, that the leak would result in precisely the price movements Lady Serindë wrote of - even before the Allaneans started looking for credits for sale.

----

It was the simplest of maneuvers, really. Unlike the financial decision, there was no communication, no fanfare. The unlikely event of a question about it would be met by a quizzical glance, perhaps the arching of an eyebrow.

No MIDF assets even hinted at a deviation from their pre-existing patrols or routes or positions. The shots were taken as the earliest opportunity came up, over the space of perhaps half an hour. Whenever a gravship orbiting over Earth came within range of one of the designated targets, a turret would track, the ominous glow of death from the barrels began to glow a little more ominously than before, and then... THOOM, a satellite was rent to free atoms in a blaze of sun-golden plasma.

No transmission, no warning, no explanation, no apology. It was unlikely anyone not either specifically paying attention, or who didn't happen to glance in that direction at precisely the right moment, even noticed. Eight ships, eight targets, eight shots, eight kills. It was as simple as that, and ended as quietly as it had begun.

A private message.

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: President Victoria Sheshet, the Confederate States of Allanea]
[From: President Sakura Akanimara, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Your Recent Monetary Woes]
[Classification: Top Secret HURRICANE]

President Sheshet,

Greetings. You may know my office well- Allanea and Tiburon have had a long, if not entirely benevolent, history. I have heard of Allanea's recent monetary troubles, and am offering to provide support. The United Solaris Federation has now and historically had an excellent economy, and we would like to assist the Confederate States in their hour of need, now that we have seen a real commitment by the new government to combat some of the terrorism that has historically plagued Allanea. As such, we're offering to purchase the entire Martian and Mercurian territories of Allanea at a price to be negotiated, with the minor caveat that no future Allanean exploration of either planet commence in the future (a point that is sadly not open to negotiation). This is something that Allanea needs, and now that we see a real commitment to reform, we're encouraged to assist Allanea. Please reply as soon as possible- the offer is time sensitive.

Sincerely,
Sakura Akanimara,
President of the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

OOC: I do not subscribe to any economic calculator nor to any NS rankings of any sort.

OOC: 1. No Allanean dollar exists. As such, it is not humanly possible for you to create 'downward' pressure on a currency that has not been used in any of those transactions.

2. It is not possible for Pilon to posess 250 trillion Menelmacari Credits worth of Allanean stuff. Simply becuase this would be greater then the total value of the Allanean economy (the Menelmacari credit is about 2 Universal standard dollars). The entire Allanean GDP is, according to NStracker, $350 trillion dollars. Thus it's not possible for Pilon to posess $500 trillion of Allanean assets. Further, Pilon explicitly stated before that he posessed 250 trillion USD worth of Allanean currency.

At no time had any Allanean private currency been transferred to Pilon (since Pilon stated explicitly he does not accept it), but rather a variety of national currencies (whatever currencies I received payment in from the different purchasers, like Roania and USSNA).

Roania in particular has repeatedly stated that he does not use any Allanean currency to make his payments, here or elsewhere. As to this point, the Allanean government had received 130 trillion USD from different nations' businesses, in the currencies of these nations. Under no exchange system known to the counters does this constitute $36 trillion credits. 130 trillion is what has been transferred to Pilon.

IC:

In Sheshet's Office

"The Menelmacari have attacked us, Vicky. You know what this means, right?"

"No, I do not."

"It means I am forced to remove you from office. Given your religious attitudes… and such… I cannot trust you with office. More interestingly, I'd rather be in charge myself."

"This is deranged!"

"Not quite. After all, you betrayed Alex. You can betray me."

An expression of pure rage now contorts Victoria's features. "I did not do any such thing! Alex needed the commitment! You know it! You were the one who suggested –"

She gasps as the realization suddenly sets in.

"You son of a whore!"

"Oh no, you did betray Alex. Even though you did… I think… honestly think he was nuts. You've surrendered him to Doctor Blindermann. This is a cute guy that uses electric shock therapy on his patients – not that normal psychiatrists are better. You have had a fellow you said was your friend – you had him imprisoned and tortured – because those psychiatric procedures, as practiced by Blindermann, are torture. In my world… one who has his friend imprisoned and tortured, betrays his friend."

"You…"

Siecle steps back by half an inch, and suddenly a force-field – one of the DREAD Anti-Personnel fields, perhaps – appears between them. "Just in case, Vicky dear. Guards!"


Within seconds, the room is full of Security Police – dozens and dozens of men in dark trench coats, truncheons at the ready. For a second, Victoria Sheshet disappears under the swarm of men.

And then they begin to die.

One dies with his windpipe snapped by a single and simple hand-stroke.

One dies with his neck snapped.

And then one man screams when his face begins to burn – when Victoria merely touches it.

Almost immediately, a circle around Victoria cleans – nobody wants to be in her reach.

Her hands fall to her hips.

There, neglected, hang the holsters of the two gold-plated pistols that are the badge of office of the President of Allanea.

Victoria smiles.

There is a single sharp roar as she empties the magazines of both handguns in under a second.

Now, the circle is broken – and before the gap can close, she rushes through, stepping on the bodies of the dead and the injured. To the window – and out.

Two Hours Later

"I, George Trevett, now announce myself President of the United States due to the disappearance of Victoria Sheshet. I order the following persons to be immediately detained on suspicion of treason…."

Of course, he could only 'legally' detain them for twenty-four hours. But he didn't intend on doing things legally.

"I order a complete mobilization of the Security Police."

Above Allanea, the satellites were circling, turned on full blast. Soon, thought Siecle the nation would be whipped in a patriotic frenzy. And then… he would beat off the Menelmacari invasion, or bribe them off – and lead Allanea to it's new future.

And yet, why weren't the satellites having their effect?

Just as he thought that, one of the satellites was already grasping Doctor Blindermann's clinic in it's projection beam…

Crescent shapes departed Venus. Aside from hyperspeed dynamics, there was indeed an aesthetic reason for the ships to be formed in such a way. The symbol of the necrontyr had long been one of aspiration, the warming golden blossom of a sun underneath the crescent of a new planet. Here, however, there was no such optimism. Merely grim fixation.

As usual, they could go through the system faster. As usual, they didn’t. The necrontyr didn’t necessarily care about time in the conventional sense. And here they wanted their targets to know that they were coming.

Their ultimate target wasn’t likely to go to ground for long; because they were already coming for him. And agents of the C’tan were closer than he would have imagined in his nightmares.

Allanea was gratifyingly simple to move around in. Even if you were a necron, in their more iconic, metallic forms. A cloak to obscure the most obvious parts, and people just thought you were a ‘costume-player.’ Alastanisatan flipped the outer cloak from his body, to reveal golden chains of office, an inner fire of green radiance, and a surprisingly airy looking light blue cloak that was more than a little frayed with use. He reached his clawed fingers into the air, and a long, crackling staff weapon seemed to congeal out of the air into his grip.

He stepped through the gates, unimpeded by their existence.

“Anyone want to tell me where the so called George Travett, alias Edmond de Siecle is? I’ve come to hack him into tiny pieces and feed them to the starving peasants,” he said, rather loudly.

Then the police-robots appeared, and began firing at the necron.

Forty Seven point two four seconds later, he walked though a field of limbs and other dismembered parts from around a hundred former security drones. Some of them beaten to death with other droids. His cloak was sporting some new holes, annoyingly. The butchery had begun.

“Come out come out wherever you are! If you surrender now I’ll start with your head and work my way down…”

At the Palace

Siecle smiled. "I'm not that easy to take, trash-can." – his voice resounded from the reproductors of Minas-Faerie. "I have… interesting things in this place. For example…"

He stepped out to the balcony, heaving an ancient bolter from Kazansky's collection. As he took aim at the necron, the recoil nearly shook him off his feet.

Pescadero Mental Hospital, San Nereiana

"Oh well-well-well, isn't this our Romeo…" – the big, muscular attendant was known for giving strange "affectionate" nicknames to his charges. He couldn't be blamed – after all, you can't just address people as 'Patient 1245' all day. He stopped next to the patient's bed and hit it's side hard with his truncheon.

"Wakey-wakey!"

No motion. Again, the truncheon swung – now, against the boy's body.

No motion. For a second, the attendant thought that the patient had died during the night. Perhaps something inside him had finally broken.

Then he realized what was really broken.

The dweomerite bracelets were no longer in place.

He screamed.

Something broke the truncheon out of his weakening fingers.

Then, he saw the boy's eyes right next to his own – wide open, angry.

And then he saw nothing.

The bolt hit the necron, dead centre. It ploughed a little way into its armour, and exploded, blasting a fist sized crater in the necron’s shell. Alastanisatan looked down, as his chest ran like water, filling the crater, and solidifying again.

“Is it my turn now?” the necron cried, and disappeared in a sudden wave of darkness that raced out of the ground like a tsunami of darkness.

Siecle’s shoulder felt as though it had been hit, hard, as talon-like fingers slid though it, cutting nerves to render his trigger hand worthless. “You think you’re a space marine… How cute! Lord Asirnoth wants to speak unto you… Then he would like to have brunch...” the necron added, and both disappeared into the approaching ships.

Minutes later

"This is an emergency announcement from President Pro-Temport Gordon Newman, Chief of the Security Police. All police units are to proceed to the capital… All units on standby…"

Elsewhere

"Greetings, Dr. Blindermann."

"You… can't be…"

"I can't be moving. I'm on your wonderful paralysis drugs. But then, I'm not supposed to be in your bracelets, either."

"Look, boy, this is for your own… get your hands off that box! No! Don't touch the syringe…"

Then, Blindermann speaks no more.

After all, gurgling hardly counts as 'speech'.

The Roanians at the embassy had quietly and without informing anyone sealed the gates of the complex they now owned around their embassy. Guards appeared on the still-unfinished walls, holding heavy guns which one of them made a point of using to turn a car to dust. A loudspeaker message drifted through the streets of the neighbourhood. 'This is your landlady speaking,' Lady Hawk called, 'I politely request that you all hand over your guns, swords, and other weapons in a calm and orderly fashion. This is for your own safety and security and for the protection of our property. You will be given a receipt. This is your landlady speaking...' The Roanians had heard about the mind control satellites through various sources, and also about the Menelmacari destruction of them.

But they preferred not to assume the best of the situation.

Two of the Roanians were quietly working on finishing a very specific portion of the walls. A sign appeared over the gate that read: Elysium Development Company Business Park.

The inside of the Void Dragon’s flagship was very much old style necron ship. Leering machines and strange gasses seemed to assail the senses at every turn, and flights of stairs that were too high to be comfortable awaited the prisoner as a pair of immortals dragged him up into the sepulchre of the Dragon. Long dark tunnels branched off the cylindrical chamber in cardinal directions, filled with spikes pointed towards the chamber. The same ascended far above, like a cathedral of nails ready to impale intruders.

“Ah,” a deep voice echoed, from a draconic, wyrmlike figure coiled in the spire of the room, its massive head tilting down a touch, a wing billowing out, stretching for a moment, “The Would-Be President of Kazansky-Land.

“You are accused of a treason most high,
You’ve bought thousands of slaves at prices too low,
You are found guilty and sentenced to die.
So I hereby decree that your death shall be slow,

“Take him away from me now and prepare him,
For pain and suffering to match his crime,
He’ll expire in time upon my own whim,
Let him first suffer an appropriate time!

“In clones and in ‘droids’ five million you’ve bought,
And so your crime shall be fitted by justice,
I see in your mind little of it you thought,
And therefore I shall not be pitiless.

“I will release you after less than a day,
Instead of the sixty you truly deserve,
For in my wisdom grant freedom I may,
Yet now put him into the glove of the nerves!

“Thou miserable and unfortunate man,
In your defence have you anything to say,
Last president of Kazanskystan,
Before you are turned into my buffet?”

Painful execution apparently wasn’t enough for the Dragon. It had to involve bursting into Song. He was an epic sadist.


Meanwhile, he drank the amusingly tasty energies of the Allanean ‘Security police’ ships and stations in orbit, before watching his escort ships casually dispatching them. Flickering fields of green weblike energy formed in the kilometres ‘gap’ at the front of the Cairn, and slashed down into Allanea, ripping through the crust, instantly incinerating the mostly-empty ‘Security Police’ bases, rendering their recruits, their substance, and they very land they stood on into broiling noxious gasses.

And then, the necrons would truly arrive.

Siecle gulped.

"President of Kazanskyland? Mwahahaha."

"You fail. You may grasp me in your arms, but you fail. Because I have destroyed Alexander Kazansky. Oh, his body and spirit may lives, but his accomplishments, little as they were, are on the verge of being destroyed by me and men."

"I am not an Allanean, you understand. I'm Edolian by origin. My family was killed in bombing raids by the Allanean Air Force in the last Allanean-Edolian war, and Axackal was seized by them. I was then but a child – but I realized why they did that. They did that, because they wanted to 're-claim' Axackal as their own – and so they did, and as they pushed into Deriksburg, street after street, they killed my brother who was a Red Guard. My father was killed when our house fell apart, and my mother executed as a Party Official."

"This was the right that the Allaneans have claimed for themselves – to reshape the world at their own will, by the sword, the rifle, and the tank. This was the justice of Allanea – and the wisdom of Alexander Kazansky."

"They did not understand when I grew up and advanced in their society, that I was not like them. Unlike Allaneans, I understood revenge. Payback."

"I decided I would combine my civilized Edolian upbringing – and my lust for revenge – and achieve two noble goals. I would transform Allanea into a society that cares about it's poor and suffering, that protects the proletariat from the exploitation of capitalists – without destroying private property – that cooperates with the world instead of conquering it bit by bit, raping nations and looting them. I would make Allanea a civilized nation – and I would destroy Alexander Kazansky's heritage of mad, ravenous violence, of insane, uncontrolled capitalism, of barbarism and destruction. And in destroying Kazansky's accomplishments, I would destroy Kazansky himself."

"I would be avenged. My family would be avenged. My society would be avenged – and I would have to do comparatively little violence upon people. I estimate with the sattelites in place, I would only have to execute a few hundred thousand of Kazansky's closest followers and any accomplishments he had made would be gone forever. But even if I'm wrong… they're the people who killed my brother – who destroyed my world, so to speak. I don't really care if they all die – just as long as anything Kazansky accomplished goes along with them. I'd prefer them to become civilized… but I wouldn't cry if they became dead."

Elsewhere

Many Security Police – and even many drone detachments – survived. They commandeered civilian buildings along Liberty Lane, high skyscrapers, and even the Pilonese 'skycraper-kidney' structure. Newman may not have wanted to destroy the city entirely – but he was willing to subject it to urban warfare if it was his life that was at stake.

As for the Navy, they simply could not be raised to become ready in time before the necrons landed, and everybody knew that.

Not everybody approved. In quite a few places, Security Police troops and drones were shot when trying to 'commandeer' a home. And everywhere, a sense of anger and apprehension was rising.

OOC: I decided the storefront stuff makes this thread look stupid. Pilon, assume all money so far earned from sale of Allanean stuff has been transferred to you, that is, $126 trillion. I will likely deal with the rest of the stuff later when I am not busy being invaded by the necrons.

“Do you not think I know all of this? You are in my presence, therefore I know your mind fully. Now you may know some sliver of mine. Your satellites were sabotaged by that traitor. Those few that functioned have been destroyed. Kazansky is already escaping, you will find that some of these weird entities’ main feature is that they’re possessed of irritating amounts of luck. Nevertheless, you have succeeded; Even now, Kazansky is being brought aboard this vessel. He will be used – as will your convenient speech just now, or at least, bits of it – to bring the place into compliance with my brother’s designs… Therefore, you may have the saving grace of knowing that although your followers will be slaughtered, you have triumphed.

“Remove him.”

A titanic claw twitched, as dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of monolith and obelisk ‘tanks’ were displaced towards the surface, and the president of Allanea was taken away for his horrific fate.


Liberty city was a place bristling with an unhealthy number of guns, and scarabs. Not that the latter were normal, but suddenly, in the two hundred million strong metropolis, there were more scarabs than guns. Like a biblical plague of locusts, they boiled out of portals and swarmed and bubbled across the cityscape, searching tirelessly for any who would oppose them (though given where they were, that would likely be many bystanders randomly shooting at them, though they tried to keep to ‘public’ highways to some degree.

Monoliths sought out resistance, and necron infantry began to disembark, seeking victims.

"Fire!"

The orbital-defense cannon are fired at the street – they are good enough and have enough traverse – and at least some of the scarabs are cleaned away – enough for the Security Police to mount a ferocious defense. They die – literally, by the million.
Nobody cares for the lives of clone troopers or robots or Sec-3 tanks. Border Patrol and Education Security troopers are somehow more important – but less important then the President himself – who is, in the meanwhile, trying and failing to raise the defense forces proper on the control lines. Possibly it is because Siecle disappeared before informing him of the proper access codes. Or maybe it is because the Army is already suspicious of him. Nobody knows.

Elsewhere

The boy struggles to the hospital door. His powers are recovering – but it seems the dweomerite's long influence and the months of 'treatment' have not done him good. He stumbles, leaning on the wall, and coughs ferociously. Blood soils his hospital robes. In one tired hand, he lugs a submachinegun of Allanean design. With the other, he forces the exit door open.

And stops, shocked.

"What the fucking hell?"

Alexander Kazansky stumbled out of the entrance of the hospital, cursing horrendously. "What the hell... this isn't what it's supposed to be like. I remember it being in the open."

A life-sized hologram of a dark haired elven woman in grey and sea-blue robes appeared, "It's been brought onboard a necron ship."

"The... I'm sorry, I'm dreaming. Or hallucinating. It's likely the shit Blindermann pumped me full of."

"No you're not. We're currently blowing things up in Allanea. Secret - security? - police, and so on..."

"There are secret police? In Allanea? I've been tied up for way too long, have I? And damn... if you're real... you know, this is pathetic."

"Each time we meet, I look progressively more worthless."

She chuckled, "I don't know. You've quit dressing up as Darth Vader. That's something of an improvement."

"I've starred in a reality TV show. And right now I'm wearing mental hospital robes, I'm on drugs, and I don't quite think I'm in charge of Allanea anymore. If I had any dignity in the first place... it's not likely I have any now.

"If you think I'm a crawling piece of vermin that needs to lean on a wall to stay upright, I can see how you get that idea."

"The reality show amused me," she says, "in a campy kind of way."

Alexander Kazansky blushed. "You know... the pool stuff... I don't really do that that much when I'm not on camera. I mean... I... Oh God, this is the most embarrassing moment of my life. And I'm sorry about that letter."

"You don't? Aww. I'd thought it was toned down for the public..."

"Not as often... well... okay, almost as often. Look, I'm really sorry about that letter."

"Forget it," she said with an uninterested shrug.

"I mean, I'm not a stalker." - he blushes again, trying to cover the cyberplug on his arm. - "But I'm sure that's why not you're here.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm really not!"

"You'd have to come near me to be a stalker. I believe a better term would be 'obsessive'" she says, "Anyway, not entirely..."

"Dr. Blindermann said that, too. Personally... never mind what I think. So why are you here? I'm sorry if it sounds rude..."

"Asirnoth asked me to. On the basis that, and I quote, 'The little runt will go even more loopy if I talk to him'"

"I'm already loopy, I've been tortured for God knows how long. This isn't quite as helpful as Dr. Blindermann would think. The late Dr. Blindermann, mind."

"So what is it Asirnoth wants you to tell me?"

"He wants to know about your reaction to the idea of 'Miriel Queen of Allanea'" she says.

Kazansky chuckled sadly.
"Do you want my job?

"Because... you know... you're going to inherit everything. Including my wonderful public relations."

"Oh, and the Allaneans. Eight billion folks that make me look sane and respectable."

"That would be why, again quoting, 'Despite my urge, I'm not going to blow him out of the landing bay and turn on the secondary engines just in case spacing doesn't do the trick'" She does a pretty neat impression of the Dragon, all told.

"If you want the job... I guess you could do it. I read what you write on politics. I don't see why you could possibly want to, though."

"I don't want the job anymore, why would you?" Alex laughed at the impersonation of Asirnoth. "I love this guy. I don't want to give the wrong impression here, but threats don't work on me. Now, if you intend to contribute your talents to rule Allanea, yes, it's a marvellous idea. On one condition.

"I am sure Asirnoth can provide a force of his wonderful necrons to protect you while you're visiting your new kingdom. Being the leader of Allanea is inherently unsafe and I am not willing to endanger you."

She grinned at him, "Indeed, I've noticed this... Oh, yay, they're blowing up that Pilonese eyesore..."

Alex laughed. "Not the superkidney thing?"

"Yup. Apparently the 'secpol' have been shooting from it."

"Oh beautiful. Let me guess, Vicky has screwed up on a new level?"

"Well. After a fashion. It's mostly the fault of the fellow who got you committed... Asirnoth's working him over now. I'm told you can have the skeleton after..."

"Another cup... never mind. And I guess... if you want to be queen... you want to be seen as doing something for liberating the country from these people."

"That's probably helpful, yes."

"Yeah... well... address the Allaneans via radio or something. Or address the Army. If you like, I will handle the actual technical details. Can you show me a map of Liberty-City?"

She looks up at the ceiling, says something that isn't carried, and a huge 'model village' style map covers the floor.

"Why, the kidney is actually on fire..." - Kazansky's voice acquires a new quality. Now the boy speaks with a strange air of one who knows what he's doing.

"Apparently the ship couldn't resist taking the contents of an oil tanker and pouring them on the kidney, before they shot at it..."

"Look. See here, the train station? It's linked by direct rail to one of the strategic forts. We can pour mechanized infantry through it. Let's say it'll be Force-A. They'll get the Security Police in a pincer between themselves and the necron stuff.

"Force-B... they can move by Madison Avenue, that has been underused. It's rated to take SHBT's and even light Bolos. Happily they can simply bombard SecPol with minimissiles and arty... We can rebuild the road later.

"That's the basic idea. If the army is loyal, I can make this work."

"They probably are. Before the coup attempt, Siecle reassigned most of your space fleet at least, out system. We shot about five patrol boat things getting here..."

"Okay then. I don't think we'll need the space navy for this, and I quite think the army can do the job. I ask for only two last things."

"And they are?" she asked.

"One, once Your Majesty's government is established fully, I want to be assigned a duty in it. And second, I intend to lead from the front. It used to be the case that ladies of your station would award... items... say, a handkerchief or a scarf to the knights who fought to defend their honour. I want one."

She disappeared for a moment, and then one appeared, white, with an ornate clasp still attached.

"Thank you. Now, your Majesty, I'll be attending to my duties. One last thing... now that you've met me. How do you find me? And please ask the honourable lord Asirnoth to teleport me to one of the Forts."

"I think you're on drugs," she said playfully, in truth, she had nothing against Kazansky per se, so long as he wasn’t after her, which seemed futile, "But other than that, you seem remarkably stable..."

Alex laughed. "Not a despicable insect then? Why, it's the best day of my life! Asirnoth, I know you're viewing this, so... make with the multidimensional toilets, please. I have a job to do!"


“You’ve only yourself to blame this time…” came the voice, and the rear side of the bay flashed into a living green portal, accompanied by a titanic flushing sound. The asylum, empty now, disintegrated in the winds that swept up everything physically in the room. It flickered for a moment, and Asylum, Kazansky, scarf and all, shot out of a matching portal three feet above the roof of one of the Allanean forts…

Several hours later

“Attention all Freemen. This is President Kazansky speaking. This is my last broadcast in this capacity, as I intend to resign my office after this problem is resolved. Let me bring you up to speed. You may have had suspicions about your current government. They are completely true. These people have done all they could to establish a police state in Allanea – terror, abduction, torture – I was tortured, and my wives killed – and they even tried to build a network of mind control satellites to brainwash you all, to make you no better then a common drone robot.”

“The necrons that even now descend upon their holdouts will aid in our liberation process. I myself will head the Army – that had already decided to take the side of the lawful President in this strife – before, again, I resign completely.”

Two heavy nuclear trains tore into the station near Madison Avenue. Even before they stopped completely, thousands of infantrymen in full armor rushed odd onto the platforms, screaming, their bayonets at the ready. Kazansky was with them. He was wearing his famous black armor, with the scarf tied around his neck as an only gleam of glorious, pure white. He spoke calmly and assuredly, and the uplinks in his suit carried his words to the radio stations and to Allanea entire.

“I have appointed the Lady Miriel nos Feanor as the lawful Vice-President of Allanea. Upon my resignation, due in within twenty-four hours, she will acquire the authority of an Allanean President-for-Life. I ask Congress to make no delay and award her the Title of Queen of Allanea – for, as I will explain, her role in the salvation of our country is equal to that that Napoleon IV once had, when he was alive. This is my last broadcast as President of Allanea – and as a citizen, I don't really care if Congress approves that one or not.”

Madison Avenue crosses Liberty Lane at a straight angle, and is extremely wide for a city street. It is, in fact, a military-grade highway that happens to run through a city – rated to carry superheavy tanks, and even Bolos in a big pinch. Right now, formations of tanks and IFV's with hundreds of cheering infantry riding as 'tank-desant' are steaming on it – right into the midst of unsuspecting Security Police and their compliant drones.

Next to them are the Sisters of Liberty. Kazansky does not even have time to be surprised by this. Perhaps Vicky hasn't screwed up THAT much.

Indeed, Sheshet is there in her livery. He waves to her, before completing his last radio address.

“As for me, Freemen, I can state my opinion regardless of the polls – I quit, after all. And my opinion...”

The tanks burst out into Liberty Lane, catching thousands of Security Police between the Allanean Army and the necron onslaught.

“Long live the Queen!”

Kazansky leaps off the turret of the monstrous Hood tank, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, landing in the midst a Border Patrol formation.

Sheshet covers Kazansky's back, boltgun in hand, tearing a hole in a cohort of Trade Federation drones. A second before a (sentient) Border Patrol officer catches the former President in the sight of his rifle, she pulls the trigger. “In the Messenger's name!”

From behind the rows of houses, micromissiles fired from thousands of Allanean rifles arrive, leaving long, red streaks behind them. Guided by sattelite feed, they seek out their targets with near-satanic lethality, and the air fills with the screech of broken drone bodies and the screams of the dying. Sisters of Liberty tear into the ranks of the SecPol, purging them from the face of the earth with flamer and grenade. Those who survive are confronted by Allanea infantry. They have a choice – either run towards the approaching waves of necrons – or stand here and fight the Allanean Army. They have a choice, most literally, between death by gauss flayer and death by bayonet.

“Kill the communist! Slay the statist! Purge the fascist vermin!”

Asirnoth watched with glee as the necrons carried Siecle around and around the same general area of the ship. The cruelty of it amused him. At the same time, his attention encompassed the ‘battle’ of liberty city, which was rapidly turning into a four-way brawl. ‘Civilians’ shooting everything, security police shooting necrons and army, necrons shooting security police, and army shooting anyone that shot at them.

The technical term, he believed, was ‘Cluster Fuck.’

Still, the statistics were quite promising, all told. Civilian deaths, which included those shooting at the necrons, directly caused by his forces were gratifyingly low, the security police; well, they were being given the opportunity to surrender. Of course, as a goodly number of those were clones – armed with small-arms that were little more effective against necrons than spitting at them would have been - and ‘trade federation battle ‘droids’ – which made the former’s guns look potent – there was no real challenge in it. And the necrons were doing their best to round up both groups – they were rather good at it, in truth; gauss flayers had been designed with such a purpose in mind.

Asirnoth was aware that his ship felt ‘tickled’ by the weapons of millions of ‘droids and clones confined on its large empty decks trying to shoot their way out.

Already, the necrons were making their point. Phased, phasing-withdrawal. Though it wouldn’t be obvious from the ground, as an area was secured by the necrons, they moved on, and the scarabs – living or dead – that went with them disappeared.

They didn’t want to give the appearance of occupying Allanea.

They didn’t want to occupy Allanea.

Who would?

Soon, the bayonet wielding badger-huffing lunatics would meet up with the necron advance, and he could return home.


Meanwhile, they were arranging, carefully, to have those in Allanea who professed loyalty to them, rather than the ultra-inept government, removed from the growing bankruptcy-chaos sweeping the nation.

Several days later, after the shooting died down

Report on the State of Allanea, signed by Field Marshal Alexander Kazansky, Commander of Her Majesty's Armies and Count of Centreville

Your Majesty!

As I now depart from office, hopefully forever, I am bound by honor to leave a memorandum behind on the state of the nation to my successor – you, of course. The below is that memorandum. As you already know, there are several problems for you and your staff to solve.

The Pilonese Loan:

Or rather, the Pilonese Blackmail. Apparently, the Pilonese blackmailed the Siecle government into agreeing to pay them a humongous sum of money for all of their holdings in the United States, or they would invade Allanea. While a large sum of the money had already been paid (by reselling some of the holdings to foreign corporations), the diplomats are still looking for a solution as to how Allanea will repay the rest of it. I suggest the privatization of the remaining assets in this category and the negotiation of some form of payment plan with Phoenix Corp.

The point has to be born: there is nothing per se wrong with any of the assets, except those that have been in Liberty-City and has been hit by falling tanker oil – but then, there was a lot wrong with that horrible, horrible kidney thing from day one. The companies are all functional, and, seeing as Allanea now has a business-friendly government, Phoenix' entire purpose in selling them has been proven wrong. However, the lack of trust in our economy will be hard to rebuild.

Liberty-Lane:

Collateral damage had been inflicted on the street and it's adjacent area by the fighting, and Madison Avenue had been damaged by advancing Allied armor. While seemingly local damage, this affect the image of the capital and the economic reputation of the country as a whole.

Politics:

I have left detailed psychological portraits of the leaders of major political parties on your new desk. These will help you deal with the heritage of de Siecle's programs, and mostly to find the votes to officially disband SecPol, as this is his most 'towering' achievement.

The military:

I am pleased to report that the military is currently well-equipped and ready to engage your Majesty's foes on any front and in any theater of war, however, unless the Pilonese loan issue is dealt with and economic collapse prevented, it's doubtful whether the army can be maintained at this level of effectiveness as money inflows will certainly be cut short.

Diplomacy:

Welcome to the nation with the world's worst diplomats. The only person you can trust with this stuff is Victoria, but she must be kept on a leash or she screws it all up like there's no tomorrow. If properly directed, she does a perfect job. The fact most people don't like Allaneans won't make your life easier for you.

Your most faithful servant,
Alexander Kazansky,
Commander of Her Majesty's Armies,
Count of Centreville.

P.S. What did happen to those legions of droids?

P.S.S. When are you coming to visit your new kingdom?

Allanean Arms

In the meanwhile, another player had entered the field, whose presence had remained unanticipated by some Allaneans – but entirely expected, under the circumstances, by those with a gift for economics.

Now, of course, while the Allanean government owed the Pilonese a sum of immense proportions, this did not mean that an ordinary Allanean became somehow poorer, or the companies that the Phoenix Corporation got rid of – somehow less efficient. It was exactly this that the Allanean Arms Corporation bargained upon.

While the C'tan Empire had posessed one of the two planets of 'the Miriel System', a lot of the surface of the other one had been owned – for development contracts dating back to the pre-Siecle age – by the Allanean Arms Corporation. It was now time, felt Kevin Nivensky, to make money off the misery of one's fellow Allanean.

Allanean Arms did not posess dozens of trillions of money to throw around, but they did have about one trillion Pis (in assorted foreign currency) to purchase an equivalent amount of assets from the Allanean government – the money was, of course, transferred immediately to the Pilonese. He knew that this was an only chance, and it could not be missed.

He made available – for any Allanean who wanted them – a small self-supported home and 1,600 acres of land on the planet he renamed as 'Julia', for his wife, in exchange for their home on Terra and the price of an expensive cruise line ticket.

The first to apply where the owners of appartments – poor people who had worked in the shipyards of Liberty-City and Roanoke-Island, the train depots of Port-Allanea, who cleaned the school houses of Heston-City and cut wood in the Hash.

Soon, heavy Conestoga freighters took off in orbit, refueled for their jump at Neo-Dallas, and took the first thirty million settlers for Julia. There, they settled the planet like a high-tech Old West. In orbit, Kevin's new shipyard kept watch, creating hundreds of small 'utility' vehicles for those who carried the settlers' products back to Liberty-City.

But that wasn't even the main plan.

He contacted friends on 'Universal Liberty' and inquired as to whether any Allanean goods were going to find favor with the people there. After all – it seemed – right now, the people who have immigrated to the Empire have had a hell of a purchasing power and a lot of leisure time.

Liberty City

“The Allanean government caused this, and it is the duty of the Allanean government to fix it. By the previous administration’s ineptitude, you’ve allowed an almost complete monopoly to be held by a single foreign business, which is the immediate cause of the current crisis.

“Therefore, I am issuing an executive order empowering the military and police services to enforce price-controls fixing exchange rates between currencies and retail prices of goods and services at the same levels they were before the Pilonese withdrawal.

“This is going to be an unpopular move; but there is a reason for it. This is the fault of the Allanean government. Therefore, the Allanean government is going to be made to fix it. The Allanean government is going to sell its assets internationally to provide currency of equivalent value to those private citizens and businesses affected by the monetary withdrawal.

“Consequently I am ordering the immediate sale at best-price of governmental stocks, the ‘Dry Storage Armour Supply’ and other military materiel that is no longer cost effective.

“Funds raised from this are to be used to provide compensation to those who have lost money in Pilon-owned banks. Outstanding loans to these banks are hereby rendered null and void.

“There has been discussion of supposed debts to the Pilonese Phoenix-Corporation. From now on, such debts may be considered paid by the withdrawal of currency from Allanea that has already taken.

“To summarise; What a loaf of bread or a pint of petrol cost you three days ago, it will cost you tomorrow. While it is not possible to enforce trade, currently worthless currency may now be viewed in the sense that foreign currencies generally are; pledges of payment by the government.”

~ Miriel nos Fëanor, on national radio/television.

That wasn’t the end of it, of course, Miriel was also busy giving orders for cessation of maintenance of some of the more excessive pieces of Military hardware that the Allaneans had. Of course, the problem in this was finding out about all the stuff. Their government apparently did nothing other than accrue bombs, she wondered how many mad inventors had sold off ridiculous contraptions to the Allaneans. They had an interstellar missile programme, of all things.

Then there were generous donations being made to cover the costs. She was tempted to tell the ‘We Buy It’ group to take their precious metals, and their commanding letter, and choke on them. However, doing that would not only shatter public confidence, and right now, that wasn’t practical. She wondered where precisely they had found so much precious metals; it was a laughably vast amount.

Her reply was essentially ‘There is no debt. Do you still want to give us money for other, more essential, economic purposes.’

Then there was education, healthcare, public safety; all disaster zones; The first less so, the healthcare system, temporarily overwhelmed, but not necessarily as bad in the medium term, though Siecle had been productive in giving her an opportunity to establish healthcare regulations and state hospitals; which was worth giving serious consideration, as unemployment had skyrocketed. For that matter, private school attendance had paradoxically dropped too, as various families expected to need to find their children jobs in the near future.

And then there was constitutional reform to make the parliament less of a joke than Kazansky had made it.

Erisavefana

One place with Allaneans but without the same economic problems, the ‘Universal Liberty’ colony had an independent economy, where the only currencies in use were the C’tan and Menelmacari credits. And though, its population had shot up by a factor of five, the C’tan had been careful to ensure that those who came had money – either in goods they’d brought with them from home, or as inflation-matching loans from the C’tani government.

The institution of the ‘Sisters of Liberty’ had grown too; its military branch had around eighty thousand noviciates on Erisavefana, To the point where Ranisath decided it worthwhile to break it into formal subgroups, such as the Orders of ‘Our Amaranthine Lady,’ ‘Our Timeless Master’ ‘The Carmine Star’ and ‘the Atramentous Spear.’ What’s more, it could also diversify too, establishing medical orders, who effectively managed healthcare on Erisavefana, knowledge-keepers who concerned themselves with the state of science, economics, the promulgation of education and culture, they even handled accountancy. There were also scriptural groups that worked to encourage writers and create religious texts, too.

The Allanean Arms Corporation’s guess was right, though. There was indeed a market there for Allanean goods. Even more of a market there for the shares the Allanean government was soon to be selling; Ranisath arranged for enough to be bought that they would – later – cover the operating costs of the Sisters of Liberty indefinitely. They weren’t the only ones, either; there was much independent interest in shares, too. And in other things, though to be fair, the colony was largely self supporting in those areas – or would be when its new immigrants were settled.

In the FieldMarshal’s Office

“Oh God, God, God. I want a vacation, okay? I want a long, warm bath. I was tortured for months straight, and then I had to fight in urban combat. I deserve a fucking bath, okay? Eh, what? An order from the queen to begin selling the Dry Storage Units? Very well. Order them all sold to We Buy It, Inc. They’ll have something to do with 150,000 mint-condition Nakil 1A1s.”

He throws himself back in the chair. “Scrap the Partisan program. I want no excuses. The Partisan tanks are horrible crap, and you know it, and frankly everybody knows it. Additionally… yes, it’s time. Scrap the interstellar missile program. I understand her Majesty is displeased.”

“FieldMarshal, there is a problem.”

“Namely?”

“There’s rebellion in Heston-City. A bunch of farmers who refuse… and I quote, “refuse to be ruled by an elven slut for a queen” and are marching on the city with rifles and light armor.”

“They… refuse, do they?”

“Yes, Your Honor the Field Marshal. If your Honor the Field Marshal will so see fit, I will travel and talk to them.”

“There will be no talking. Raise the Fifth Strategic Air Wing from Deriksburg. Raise the Furry Airborne from PSF-Six. I want them to be intercepted before they reach the city. Let no man survive.”

“I do not think her Majesty will be pleased with the choice of method, Your Honor the Field Marshal?”

“Fine then. Cordon their county off, declare their unilateral independence. However, if they try to do any violence on the Queen’s officials… you know what to do.”

Elsewhere

In the meanwhile, the Allanean government had completed the sale of the remaining stock of ex-Pilonese properties. Of these, three trillion dollars were sold to various entities within the C’tan, five to Skinny87's companies, and the remainder was sold to We Buy It, Inc. for the immense sum they offered. The Allanean government was now in possession of humongous amounts of money in cash – and it was now up to Queen Miriel to decide what to do with it.

But the influence of We Buy It, Inc. on the economic crisis was not limited to the enormous sums of money that they spent to buy off the assets Phoenix Corporation had left behind – nor to the money that they donated to aid the economic reconstruction.

The main contribution of WBI was the Common Credit.

Even though legally the Pi was fixed in value, people preferred (understandably) to deal in currencies other then the formerly Pilonese coin. Rather, the Common Credit – together with the Bunny Mark and the nivenka and a dozen other currencies – was already spreading through the Allanean economy like ripples on the water.

This was the magic of an open and free market in currency – where one currency failed, others – the Taggart Dollar, the Bunny Mark, countless other coins spread out to fill the gap.

This was not to say that the price-fixing was meaningless. Were it not for Queen Miriel’s edict on prices, millions would likely begin starving and hundreds of thousands may have been dead before the economic world had completely healed itself.

Elsewhere again

Miriel would soon discover why Kazansky didn’t want her to take her job.

While seemingly disorganized, the Congress did have a crew of ‘professional politicians’ in it – the leaders of various factions and subfactions, popular men whose ‘endorsement rating’ never fell very low and whose prominence made others rally to them. It was these people who – in fact if not in name – were in control of Allanean tax policy, spending and acquisition.

To keep Congress working – passing or rejecting bills rather then bickering on for days – required the existence of a certain mediating agent, an arbiter who would see the interests of the different sides and understand them – and use his powers of persuasion to build compromise where stubborn Allaneans would prefer to spit insults and dueling challenges, and constructive agreements where they preferred to tear each other’s clothing apart (if they wore any at all).

One can imagine how great a headache that was.

Kazansky, in the meanwhile, was completely unavailable. Rumour had it he was either in some strategic fort, or on a prolonged division headquarters exercise, or with the navy. Letters with orders found their way to him somehow, and so did responses - and yet somehow his location remained unknown.

"So what's the deal? The United States of Allanea has undergone so many in changes in government by now, I've lost track of it completely."

"Secretary-General," replied one of his executive assistants. "Reports have been recieved that Lady Miriel nos Fëanor has taken over as Queen in Allanea. She has made use of her executive powers to help re-stabilize the Allanean economy. The status of former leaders are not known."

Carmine nodded solemnly and thought for a moment, his hands kept tightly pocketed. "For better or worse, it's at least agreeable that a more 'stable' leader has procured themselves within Allanea. Sheset we only favoured because it was either her or Kazansky, Kazansky we hated with a vengeance." He smiled. "Considering that our opinions of Queen Miriel are rather neutral at present, this is a good thing."

"She is also a citizen of Greater Menelmacar," noted one of his assistants.

Eyebrows were raised, and discussion had ceased all but for a moment.

It was Carmine who broke the silence. "Since Lady Miriel nos Fëanor seems to be recognized largely as the new and legitimate leader of Allanea, I want DFAT to forward her some kind of an arrangement of flowers complimentary from my office as congratulations for her ascension. If she is any good, I want her credibility recognized; be slow to do this however, you know what almost any leader of Allanea can be like over time. Have the card wish her Godspeed, et cetera et cetera, you know what to do. Be friendly."

OOC: Ctan, I edited to reflect more accurately to how you described it. If there's something still incorrect and you want me to edify, let me know.

To: Hon Demetrios Raoul MP, Minister for Foreign Affairs

RE: Status of Allanean Head of State (Most Urgent)

Minister,

As you are by now aware, President Victoria Sheshet was replaced in a coup d'etat by one Gordon Newman, the Chief of the Security Police. President Alexander Kazansky then inexplicably resurfaced and led a counter-coup, which saw a brief civil war erupt on the streets. As best as we can determine, President Kazansky's forces were successful and Newman's forces no longer have control over any part of the country. You will also be aware that President Kazansky resigned the position from which he was forcibly removed, in favour of one Lady Miriel nos Fëanor, whom he claimed to have appointed Vice President. We have been unable to verify that her appointment as Vice President was valid, however, presuming it to be valid, in the light of Kazansky's resignation, Lady Miriel nos Fëanor may now in fact be the Allanean President. Kazansky also recommended to the Allanean Congress that Mademoiselle nos Fëanor be appointed "Queen" of Allanea.

It is my opinion that there is no longer a clear de jure nor de facto Allanean Head of State. It is also my opinion that in the light of there being no Allanean Head of State with whom the Imperial Government may deal with the reasonable assumption that that person speaks for the Allanean Government, and in the light of the danger posed to the Pantocratorian Embassy and its personnel as a result of Allanea's fundamental instability, that all but a skeleton consular staff should be evacuated from the Pantocratorian Embassy. I further recommend to you that I be withdrawn from Allanea in my capacity as His Majesty's Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary until such time as an Allanean Head of State becomes clearly established.

Yours Sincerely,

Isabelle Katalyn
His Majesty's Ambassador to the United States of Allanea

OOCness:
To Austar: She's not 'denying repayments,' the Pilonese have their money, and quite possibly more than they're entitled to. I have confirmed this many times OOCly with Pilon, both on IRC and in public postings on thse boards. The 'repayments' were only ever mentioned because this hadn't been realised OOC. It can be assumed to be entirely the fault of some inept Allanean or Pilonese that the idea was ever even floated.

There is no evidence whatsoever of her having been responsible for the release of Kazansky (in fact, I can OOCly confirm that she wasn't - Asirnoth would have done it anyway) - after all, he did already escape on his own.

And she has next-to-no influence in the C'tani government.

To Pantocratoria: Given what you asked on AIM, yes, I can only assume she's "several days ago" been confirmed in such title by the Allanean congress, too, given that in one post, Kazansky claims that the congress, such as it is, would need to do that, and in the next one, it's all 'Her Majesty's This That and The Other.'

Personally, I'd say that Victoria Sheshet would be the legitimate president, and though it's not been mentioned - because Allanea insisted on skipping ahead like the mad thing he is - she would either be the actual president now (remember, Miriel doesn't want to be there any longer than she has to, and would much rather not be there at all, so if she could get Sheshet to stay on, she would) or much more likely, that she too would have resigned the post in favour of Miriel.

Who was never a 'Mademoiselle.'

And shan't be 'President' for long.

Most thoroughly IC. This isn't particularly assuming that Sheshet has resigned from the presidency; rather, since the Confederate Congress has apparently approved of Miriel's position as queen, Miriel is now the de facto and de jure head of Allanea.

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Miriel nos Fëanor, Queen of the Confederate States of Allanea]
[From: Sakura Akanimara, President of the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Former President Kazansky]
[Classification: Classified]

Queen nos Fëanor,

First off, congradulations on your new post as Queen of the Confederate States. Allanea has been pretty much a broken state from day one, so it's nice to see that there's a possibility that it can finally be fixed.

We do have one small request. Former President for Life Alexander Kazansky is still within the confines of the Confederate States. However, he has been formally charged by numerous authorities from many different nations for various crimes while in his official role as President of the Confederate States. In particular, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon has charged former President Kazansky with war crimes, crimes against peace, and crimes against humanity. We therefore formally request the extradition of Alexander Kazansky to Tiburonese soil so that he may stand trial for his crimes in a fair and impartial court. Upon request, we shall delineate the crimes that the Tiburonese government has charged him with.

Sincerely,
President Sakura Akanimara,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

Elves didn’t necessarily require sleep, so much as restive inactivity. Miriel found that she couldn’t get either. She sat at a table, reading from a lectern upon a desk otherwise covered in scores of candles at differing heights.

Kazansky. ‘Alex’ he’d presumably like to be thought of by her, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to.

A request for his extradition; she honestly didn’t care one way or the other what happened to him. But the Allaneans did.

She needed something to do. Her eyes alighted on the ‘gold handguns of the President’ and she smiled. Among Noldor, metalworking was a tradition, though one mainly practiced by men, like her father. But exceptions such as herself weren’t unknown, her great grandmother was one¹.

She took them, and immersed them briefly, in deep freezing; to the point where nitrogen frosted them, and then removed them, placing them into a furnace for a moment. They cracked into pieces, and she left those inside it for a time, until they were hot enough to handle again, and removed them.

She separated out the gold, and put it to one side, and divided them into nine equal groups. Once more they went into the furnace, melted into fluid masses in ceramic cups. She poured them, and stamped them, and then turned away, taking lapis-lazuli, jade, rose quartz, and a dozen other semiprecious stones, in slivers and fragments, from neatly labelled drawers to one side.

Then she worked through the night, as inspiration took her, making them into heavy, ornamental, multi-part coins that depicted designs from Menelmacari history-mythology.

At last, she decided, flexing heavily gloved hands, that she was done.

Then came the reply to the Tiburonese authorities, if it had been put simply it would have rea; “I doubt I have such authority, but I will check. It’s far from practical at this time, although I eschew attachment to my ‘rule’ such as it is, a significant number of lives would likely be lost in the rioting that would engulf the country in the event of my acceding to this request – Kazansky is as a boy-god-king to many Allaneans. Nonetheless, it would perhaps help to know what you wish to charge him with, and what punishments would likely be given in the event of his guilt being proven. Furthermore, how would such a court be convened, and from what nation – although it may be due to sleep deprivation, I am not aware of Kazansky having committed warcrimes against Tiburon”

---

OOCness: ¹ Not just me, that. Tolkien had it as such too.

The coins of Miriel; which will be distributed to especially needy Allanean families – they’ll be worth a lot, if no one else wants them, one can be sure Kazansky would pay through the nose - are inspired by these pictures. That assumes she’s got said ‘badges of office’ from Sheshet, too, otherwise, it’d be some… other gold. The First; The Death of Fëanor (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367086/) The Second; The Spirit of Fëanor (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367124/?qo=147&q=by%3Aelegaer&qh=sort%3Atime+-in%3Ascraps) The Third; The First Movement of the Music (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367171/) The Fourth; The Discord of Melkor (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367222/) The Fifth; The Second Movement of the Music (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367234/) The Sixth; The Third Movement of the Music (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367248/) The Seventh; Varda Elentári (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367248/) The Eighth; The Trees of Valinor (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367381/) The Ninth; The Lamps of the Valar. (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9367143/)

OOC: Alright Ctan, I edified to make my post (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12415916&postcount=70) hopefully a little more accurate. Also to mention, my flowers should be arriving real soon. :-D

OOC: The pistols are not gold. Gold pistols would not work. They're gold-plated. Think of the gold-plated Desert Eagles Magnum Research makes. I don't think you can derive much gold for melting them. Mostly there'll be lots of burnt plastic-polymer and steel and titanium. From which coins can be made regardless.

OOC: For all legal purposes, Miriel is President-for-Life. However, under Allanea Thanks It's Liberators Act of 2007, she will be addressed as Queen in all official documents, and further Sirithil will receive the title of Queen Mother, and furthermore Miriel is accorded 1,600,000 acres of land in San Nereiana as her first Royal estate, to be named as she wishes it. Hope that clarifies her leadership status.

IC : From the debate rooms of Congress came to the Lady Miriel a list of people that were suggested as the candidates agreed upon by different factions to fill the positions of the heads of the different Departments now renamed as Ministries. Of course, Congress had no authority to appoint people – only the Queen could appoint and then one of the Houses would approve the different officials. But they could 'unofficially suggest' candidacies that would meet with approval.

For the Minister of Education was suggested an elf by the name of Ellaran Glariel, an admirer of 'superior Menelmacari culture' and a functionary of Republican Party Allanea for the last century or so. It was thought that this candidate would be sufficiently pro-elven to meet the Queen's approval and yet a trusty enough RNC operative not to be completely uncontrollable.

The Minister of Finance was in fact a Dohwar by race, a being with the unpronounceable name of Kreeek'neek Czapp, a former Libertarian governor of Allanean Nebraska and a graduate of the University of Concord.

The Minister of Justice was a Khristian lawyer of note, most famous for having earned several million credits by successfully suing the government for what he believed was discriminatory policies by the recruitment services, and for his activities as an organizer and donor for the Democrats of Allanea.

The Minister of Defense was a previously-anonymous veteran, and nobody really cared who he was. Complete trust was put in "the ability of His Honor the FieldMarshal to manage Her Majesty's Armed Forces and Intelligence as needed." Equally, 'everybody knew' who should be the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

Finally, the post of Her Majesty's Officer of Public Relations was to be filled by a person of her own choosing. The parties of the Coalition had their bit of offices and cared none.

Allanean Army Recruitment Ad

"Some things change. A lot of things change. Some things stay the same – every day."

Footage of the Allanean flag is shown.

"Every day, Her Majesty the Queen labors hard to protect your rights – your freedom – and your future."

Miriel is shown at her desk.

"Will you do your bit, Freeman?

Some things never change. Today, as yesterday, the Allanean Army still need a few good men."

Footage of Allanean infantry in parade dress.

"Repay the Queen in kind. Do your bit. Join the Royal Armed Forces – today."



The Allanean Army was not the only one to put out royalist propaganda. From the Liberty League, from Allanean Arms Corporation, and from 'anonymous contributors', millions of dollars came, poured into Royalist ads in the newspapers, on the radio, on television. Everywhere, there are portraits and posters of the Allanean queen.

The effect on the approval is predictable – and yet nobody can even begin to guess as to who the spider at the center of this particular web is – though Sheshet would likely hazard a healthy guess.

Duat

“You are no longer Edmond de Siecle, or any of your other pseudonyms. You may use your original name, if you desire, and we will arrange for your family to come here, also, if necessary. Despite that, you’re not allowed to reveal your identity; this will ensure it,” Ranisath gestured to a slender looking beetle-construct, “And will follow you around discretely, to ensure you don’t abscond, nor let on that we’ve released you. You’re also confined to the borders of the C’tan empire, as well.”

---

Liberty City, House of Representatives

Miriel looked quite frankly resplendent, dressed in shimmering white and silver of immaculate cleanliness as she stepped up to the podium.

“Freemen of Allanea!

“You are not free. You are like dogs, who believe they are wild when they’re taken out for ‘walkies.’ I want this to change, but I do need your help. I am the first Allanean president to be in any way shape or form, elected for decades.

“As it stands, I could appoint the Imperator of Edolia as your president tomorrow! That is a complete farce; Other countries have a term for this form of rule. Despotism. I have sweeping powers; I do not deserve them – I have never said what I stand for, I have never been elected for anything save the title of ‘queen’ of Allanea, and I therefore deserve nothing from save that.

“You have many rights; the right to bear arms – as a form of insurance against your own government, which, given the sheer size of your military and, no insult to the brave men and women who serve in it, its potential for use as a tool of oppression, seems symbolic at best – to the right to protest and the right to work or not as you choose, prosper or not, as you choose, and drink yourselves to death in a gutter or not, as you choose.

“You should also have the right to elect a head of state, to decide who rules you. Even the most monarchical regimes don’t allow the king to pick some bum off the street and install him.

“Your congress is almost as much of a joke as your presidency! I’m all for direct democracy; but if you’re going to combine it with representative democracy, do it right – the purpose of a parliament, as opposed to a plebiscite, is to facilitate decision making comparatively quickly. I strongly suggest altering the workings of the congress to separate the mechanisms of referenda from day to day operations, and instead introducing better recall laws for congressmen to keep them under… control,” and she said that in a room full of them, of course, “In any case…

“I have here a proposed constitutional amendment, which will, if ratified, introduce elections for the office of president not less than once every five years, and sooner, in the event of the resignation of a president, and prohibiting more than four terms in office for any one person. If it is passed, I will stand for office, if it is requested of me, but regardless, I will immediately resign the office of President of the United States of Allanea in favour of the elective process.

“I urge you to ratify this amendment, and actually make yourselves free men, instead of slaves to an office that is passed around your elite oligarchy like some glitzy bauble.

“Thank you for your time,” she said, and left.

Elsewhere

“Shut this down. This is the most disturbing thing I have ever heard anybody say in years. Better yet – fire up a Corona. I must be on my way to the capital, presto.”

“Yes, Honorable Field Marshal. As you wish. Your wish is…”

“I do not require your whimpering. I require a strategic aircraft to be ready for take-off immediately. Make haste.”

“Yes, Honorable…”

“Go. Now.”

Minutes later, the hot inversion trail of a supersonic nuclear-powered aircraft begins extending towards Liberty-City.

In Congress

The man who rises is known to Miriel, or at least is known to her if she has been reading up on the different office holders, as an extremely conservative Senator from Zara-Khrishta. Even now, his Khristian blood is evident as he assumes a ‘honorable’ position.

“Your Majesty, in one of the previous administrations, an amendment was suggested to allow for life presidencies – much as the one as has been rammed through eventually – but with the difference that they’ll be interspaced with elections. And second… do you think if there was an election now, you would not win it? You have the support of so many wealthy and affluent people… Allaneans adore you. You are the savior of our country.”

“From the Field Marshal to the common freeman in the street, I am sure the people of this nation trust you with the apparatus of state like no Allanean would be trusted.” – he was talking from knowledge. He read the poll data. – “Do you truly think we Allaneans are barbarians – crack-huffing badgers, like some people say? Do you seek to wash your feet of our soil and leave? Your Majesty, I implore you. Stay with us. You can always abandon us when you choose to do so – but now is too early. Please.”

“Is the respect of the entire nation nothing to you? Look how our Founder was adored by the nation when in office – I am sure you can rise to the same heights of the public admiration. I ask nothing but that you postpone your resignation by a few years, or perhaps decades. You will see how grateful the people of Allanea will become.”

“I am sure my colleagues at the left of the aisle will agree – you have started well, but the time had not come yet for your rule to end.”

“Please, if you do care for what Allaneans think; stay with us.”

One person in the crowd did not share the general feeling. But as that person was one of Miriel’s bodyguards and was standing behind her, she would not see Parkison’s eyes – and the complete, perfect expression of hatred that burned in them, under the imperious black sunglasses she wore.

Miriel paused, “Yes. I care. And yes, I think I may well win. But I wish to win, I do not wish to simply be imposed, feted, crowned and saluted. I will not serve as the modern day roman emperor of Allanea, as I care for the people of Allanea, I also care for their voice, and I care that it be heard. I will not remain as a ruler so obviously imposed by the use of foreign force, nor will I remain as a hereditary ruler elevated above the people purely because of the support of the wealthy and affluent.

“I see why you may want me to hold this off; now is a poor time for elections. It is however, an even worse time for me to rule as a despot. I believe you have a saying; Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It may not be true. But I shall not risk ruling without a clear public mandate – without the real power being that of the people – for a second longer than I absolutely have to…

“People died to install me here? I reject that. They died to end the tyranny of the last order. I will not simply replace that with my own tyranny. To do so would be a mockery of those sacrifices. You may have freedom and me, but not the latter without the former.

“If as you say, I will win, then you have nothing fear from the prospect of my leaving. I will stand for election if this amendment passes.”

“Very well. But we will – if Your Majesty allows – edit this so very slightly. We would like to edit this provision so that while the President is elected – as you doubtlessly will be – he will serve for life. And then the next one is elected. I hope this is satisfactory, your Honor.”

Elsewhere

The bomber is punching through the stratosphere above Liberty-City. One of the screens in it’s vast cockpit had been modified, and now displays Miriel’s speech at Congress.

Suddenly, a hand rests on the pilot’s shoulder.

“There is no time for this. Dive. Now.”

And the enormous aircraft plummets, preparing for an insane emergency landing on Liberty-Lane itself.

Back in the Hall

It is then that Parkinson makes her move. With a swift motion, she slams the selector switch on her enormous ABR-666 rifle, aims it at Miriel, and fires all six barrels – micromissiles, ERASER, plasgun, all.

Outside the building, the bomber’s enormous engines are heard.

“No,” Miriel said, “It doesn-“

There was a blinding flash, white light on white robes, and she tumbled – was hurled – forwards, bullets and missiles scything through her, disintegrating the front row of desks before she hit it. She raised her hand, weakly, and murmured a single word; those close to her would hear it, perhaps, as “Terhant.”

Parkinson’s gun exploded. So did others, suddenly shattered – as the gold-handled and plated guns had last night – in a burst of light, as did every other weapon in the chamber.

Volatile pressurised hydrogen gushed into the air, ignited by sparks, as an incandescent explosion, strong enough to hurl Parkinson – and, perhaps fortunately – the other guards back off their feet.

Miriel grabbed hold of the splintered edge of the table, and pushed herself back to her feet – aside from a deep wound promptly caused by the lacerating edge, she seemed surprisingly unharmed by the flames and general violence of the attack, and she looked over at Parkinson, ignoring the consternation of much of the audience upon noticing that their own arms were no better off than the assassin’s.

“As I was saying,” Miriel said, “No, that’s not good enough, for me at least. Obviously it’s not up to me, though,” she said, “And whatever crazed motive she had, she’s pardoned for it,” she said, nodding at Parkinson, as she left the hall.

It is through that main entrance that Field Marshal Kazansky rushes in, throwing off his pilot’s helmet, and throwing a guard off his feet as he approaches Miriel. He is abrupt and – surprisingly – rude.

“Give me your hand. Not that one. The one that you cut.” – he grasps her by the wrist, and a peculiar sensation spreads through the Queen’s entire body. The next time she looks at her hand, it has healed completely – and the Field Marshal had long let go, having held on for but a fraction of a second.

He proceeds – clearly not having heard the last several sentences – straight to Parkinson. Before anybody can stop him – nor, indeed, are there many volunteers – there is a horrendous sound of fractured bones as he kicks the would-be assassin in the ribs, hard.

“I have failed to protect the Queen, but I will not fail to administer justice.”

“You are a member of Allanea’s Executive Protection Unit, and as such, are subject to military tribunals. My tribunals. As the Queen’s Field Marshal, I am empowered to render trial in the field of battle, to carry out the rulings, and to administer justice where I find it lacking.”

It took some considerable resolve to not say anything as Kazansky crashed in through the doors, Miriel looked at her hand, considering putting the wound back for a moment, but decided against it. She was about to walk off again, when she heard yet more commotion from behind her, and turned, to go and see what he was doing now…

A circle had formed around the FieldMarshal, as people struggled to get away. In the din, nobody managed to explain about the pardon - except for a certain Congressman fast enough to simply rush the former President to the floor.

Obviously the hearing on the Amendment could not proceed on that day.

“Someone arrest that man!” Miriel snapped, “For attempted murder!” She pointed at Kazansky accusingly, her other, hand curled into a fist from which blood dripped languidly, like the Eldar god of war. Of course, whether or not they’d do it was another matter.

"Attempted... murder?" - Kazansky gasps, seconds before he submits to several Congressmen. - "I was acting within my legal authority as Field Marshal..."

“A ridiculous farce of justice, I thought you were meant to be an officer of some sort, not a commissar,” Miriel snapped, “How did you know that was going to happen in order to turn up here anyway? Did you plan this whole ridiculous charade? Urgh,” she just grunted, and stalked off again.

"I saw Pansy standing behind you on the podium... oh nevermind this."

One of the Congressmen whispers something in Kazansky's ears and a look of realization appears on his face - just for a second.

Then he becomes grim.

As Miriel turns, she begins to heard words in her head - words that are, necessarily, a telepathic message.

This is your chance. I didn't know about your pardon, but it doesn't matter. You must make the arrangements for me to be put on trial for attempted murder. This will allow you to distance yourself from both the injustice that had nearly occured, and from myself. This will help you make Allanea... better. Go now. I failed. You must not.

Miriel said nothing, did nothing. She left. She left Allanea once more. For a time at least. There were things to wait for, and things to examine. There was the possibility, of course, that there might be widespread outrage in Allanea that would terminate her ‘presidency’ in short order. That would be a relief.

It was interesting to consider what they planned to do with Kazansky, and what else he could be charged with. And then there were the Tiburonese.

She did, however, reply to Kazansky as she left.

“I said no.”

“But… Alex…”

“I said no. You will talk to the media. You will explain that I will temporarily resign from my post as Field Marshal, and that I voluntarily submit myself to the practice of Allanean law. You will explain that I submit as my only defense the fact that I was not aware of the Royal Pardon granted, and that I am willing to be tried by either a jury or a military trial. I submit myself fully to Her Majesty’s justice and mercy. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do it, Reijiro. There is no longer any delay. I have failed in her Majesty’s service. I must now be punished. Further: I want you to organize military units to be available in case of rioting. Anybody who threatens Her Majesty’s rule is to be put down with prejudice. This is now your duty. You will then travel to Liberty-City and await her return. You will obey her every word as if it were mine. Tell her I beg her forgivance for failing her. It is all.”

“Alex… why you smiling like that?”

“As usual, Reijiro. I am peculiarly stable.”

PANTOCRATORIAN IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT

Department of Foreign Affairs
Office of the Hon. Demetrios Raoul MP
Minister for Foreign Affairs
To:
Her Excellency Madame Isabelle Katalyn
Imperial Ambassador to the United States of Allanea
Pantocratorian Embassy, Liberty City

Your Excellency,

RE: Status of Allanean Head of State (Most Urgent)

I received your letter on the matter of the ambiguity surrounding the Allanean Presidency and your request to be withdrawn and note all you write.

In light of recent developments whereby Lady Miriel nos Fëanor has been accepted as the undoubted Head of State by the Allanean Congress, it is the opinion of the Imperial Government that the grounds upon which you asked to be withdrawn no longer apply. Your request to be withdrawn is therefore rejected. If you still feel it advisable, from a staff safety perspective, for the majority of the embassy staff to be temporarily evacuated, leaving only a minimal consular staff in place to handle urgent matters and see to the welfare of Pantocratorians visiting Allanea, then you are authorised to make such staffing arrangements as you see fit.

Upon consulting with the Palace, we must advise you that under no circumstances are you to address the Allanean Head of State in a fashion suggesting a regal status. In your capacity as His Majesty's Ambassador to the United States, you must not address the Allanean Head of State as if she were Queen of Allanea. On the basis of her Menelmacari heritage, the present Allanean Head of State is entitled to be styled Imperial Highness. Under no circumstances is she to be styled Majesty nor addressed as a monarch. It is the Palace's opinion that the Allanean Congress lacks the authority to turn any person into a monarch in the true sense of the word. The Palace emphasised the point that if you were to address the Allanean Head of State as one would a Queen, it could be construed as to signify His Majesty's recognition of the legitimacy of the title.

As a result of our consultations with the Palace, and upon the advice of my department and cabinet colleagues, I therefore advise you that the official style of the Allanean Head of State authorised by the Imperial Government is:

Her Imperial Highness Lady Miriel nos Fëanor, President of the United States of Allanea

The advice I have received suggests that it is unlikely that the Allanean Head of State will find the style objectionable, on the basis of her address to the Allanean Congress, and on the basis of her Menelmacari upbringing.

You are asked forthwith to extend the congratulations of His Majesty the Emperor and the Imperial Government to Her Imperial Highness on the occasion of her confirmation as President of the United States of Allanea, and to move to re-establish normative diplomatic relations as quickly as is ever possible in that nation.

Yours Sincerely,

Demetrios Raoul
The Honourable Demetrios Raoul, Member of Parliament
Minister for Foreign Affairs

TO: Her Imperial Highness Lady Miriel nos Fëanor, Life-President of Allanea, and the Congress of the United States of Allanea
FROM: LadyHawk, Imperial Agent and Minister to the nation and government of Allanea
RE: Economic and fiscal stability

Most Elegant of Potentates,

As the representative of a nation which bears your fine new dominion only the highest of goodwill, it pleases me to welcome you to office in Allanea. I trust that your term shall pass profitably.

I desire knowledge of a most arcane source, namely, the growth, inflation and unemployment targets for the next few years, as a prelude to the Imperial Government commencing large-scale consideration of capital flow into the recovery of the Allanean economy from recent events.

As well, we would like to advise the government and congress that with certain conditions being met, and the removal of various stumbling blocks, the process is in place to begin a return of the status quo prior to the events of so-called 'Kazansky' TV. We await your reply as to one way or another in due time.

Faithful in the Light,

Lady Hawk

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Miriel nos Fëanor, Queen of the Confederate States of Allanea]
[From: Sakura Akanimara, President of the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Re(2): Former President Kazansky]
[Classification: Classified]

Queen nos Fëanor,

As requested, below is a list of the crimes formally charged against Mr. Kazansky by the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon. The Treaties of Mutual Cooperation, Alliance, and Security between the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon and the Socialist Republic of Edolia as well as between the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon and the Liberal Unitary Republic of Goobergunchia declare that in each, both parties agree that a breach of the peace against either nation is to be declared to be of concern to both participating states and that both parties agree that an armed attack against either shall be considered an attack against both. In accordance with these treatises of each Treaty of Mutual Cooperation, the United Solaris Federation charges Mr. Kazansky with the following crimes.

Two counts of crimes against peace:
-The use of armed force with intent permanently to deprive a state (Edolia; Goobergunchia) of any part or parts of its territory (Axacal, -The Prophet-)
-The use of armed force with intent to impede the freedom of a state (Edolia) to act unhindered, as it sees fit, throughout its jurisdiction (including Axacal and Yasmarea)

Three counts of crimes against sentiency:
-Murder
-Attempted extermination of a native population of a foreign power (the Axacalians, of Edolia)
-Persecution against any identifiable group or collectivity (communists, socialists) on political grounds

One count of war crimes:
-Using civilian shields

Should your government decide to try Mr. Kazansky for these crimes on Allanean soil, we would have no objections- we wish to see Mr. Kazansky brought to justice for his crimes, regardless of the venue.

Sincerely,
Sakura Akanimara,
President of the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

Idleness occasionally makes for the most unusual and peculiar of trivial developments, oftentimes of which they can be the source of great amusement. The following letter was perhaps a product of far too much free time being placed in the hands of one (obviously bored) junior Government parliamentarian, who duly took advantage of his superior’s absolute refusal to regard Allanea as anything other than a particularly tasteless bad joke, in order to write this...

http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e221/Xirnium/arms1.jpg
Confidential Government Memorandum – Ministry of Foreign Affairs
The Eternal Republic of Xirnium

Tárië Ambârmentë Laë Nainányéna! – Until the End of Time!
To:

Her Imperial Highness
Lady Miriel Aduniel Celebtiriel nos Fëanor
Aranel of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar

From:

His Grace the High Well Born
Lord Floréntian Valdyä Dornthònion, Baron of House Arménôst
Parliamentary Secretary of State at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs
The Eternal Republic of Xirnium


Your Imperial Highness

Pray accept my office’s kindest regards and most cordial greetings, from the ever lovely Eternal Republic. It is my hope that this humble epistle finds your Imperial Highness well and in excellent spirits.

The cause moving me to write this letter relates to outstanding issues and concerns with respect to Allanea that I feel we might now decisively resolve. As your Imperial Highness should be quite well aware, the Eternal Republic has for some time now not deigned to regard the Allanean state as one worthy of sovereign legitimacy, and has treated it accordingly. It has, in fact, been the official policy of my Government to completely refuse to recognise Allanea as a legally valid nation state or a lawful member of the international comity (with all the implicit rights and privileges that such unique geopolitical status entails).

It would be to the mutual benefit of your Imperial Highness and the Xirniumite Government to address this undesirable state of affairs. There remains, unfortunately, one tricky obstacle to reconciliation.

During the period of poorest bilateral relations between the Eternal Republic and the Allanean state, prior to the era of nonrecognition described above, the Kazansky Administration purported to declare the existence of a state of war between his nation and the Government of Xirnium. Although this bizarre, quite unilateral war remained a nonhostile one (and, needless to say, entirely unacknowledged by my own Government, which had no intention of indulging Mr Kazansky’s childish antics), it led directly to the position of today’s status quo with respect to Allanea.

The Eternal Republic has refused to consider restoring recognition of the Allanean state until such time as the de facto leadership of that state conveys to my Government a formal desire for peaceful coexistence.

I ask, therefore, that your Imperial Majesty now direct the Allanean state to communicate its official surrender to the blameless Eternal Republic, bringing a formal close to the war that Allanea has waged in name alone. International diplomacy is not a child’s game, and the world must see that real consequences arise from unwise decision. Insolence must not go unpunished, nor impudence unrebuked. A formal surrender, in addition to a genuine apology for their nation’s utter foolishness, will serve as a lesson well learnt for other would be warmongers and potential scoundrels.

The Xirniumite Government is, of course, quite magnanimous in the conditions for surrender that it insists upon, and the provision of merely symbolic reparations of a negligible monetary amount would be considered substantially sufficient to atone for Allanea’s war guilt. In addition, Xirnium would require only that a formal undertaking be made, by the Allanean state, never again to dare show the audacity of taking up arms against the Eternal Republic, either in reality or (as was in fact the case) in the twisted imagination of Allanea’s government.

Pray join with me, your Imperial Highness, in putting to rest this bizarre and regrettable period in Allanea’s long history of unfortunate mistakes. Only upon the foundation of true apology and heartfelt regret can the path of real reconciliation lie. From thence lies friendship and cooperation, mutual benefit and tolerant understanding.

I await your reply with eager enthusiasm.

Yours sincerely

[Signed]

His Grace the High Well Born
The Honourable the Baron Floréntian Valdyä Dornthònion, Member and Lord of Parliament
Parliamentary Secretary of State at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs
The Sovereign Parliament of the Eternal Republic of Xirnium

Menelmacar, somewhere
Miriel sat at the same desk as before, and began looking through her mail. Firstly, the Kazansky war crimes charges. She’d dearly love them to work; as it was, no allanean court would convict him of what she had him arrested for, and she fundamentally objected to her executive power to be judge jury and excecutioner – not because she thought it was that bad an idea, but because she wanted to run the powers office of the Allanean President right into the ground, trust herself with such power as she might, she wouldn’t trust whomsoever came after her with it.

Thus, setting a precedent was… bad.

Offhand; she could see the crimes against peace perhaps holding water legalistically, but she didn’t really agree with some of the vague definitions used. Other than that, the extermination seemed to work. The persecution didn’t fly as well, Kazansky’s Allanea had many communists. They just weren’t popular, rather than the subjects of governmental persecution.

Using civilian shields… That was certainly food for thought.

And it reminded her to do something about that hideous atrocity that was the ‘Boy Scouts’ of Allanea.

Her response was fairly simple…


President Akanimara,

I can see some potential merit in the charges arrayed against Mr. Kazansky, and it may be possible to carry some of them to trial. I am uncertain of the validity of crimes against peace, especially here, certainly the latter such charge seems manifestly unenforceable; the intent of the allanean government, as I understand it, especially in Yasmarea was to end oppression, and while they may not have succeeded in such an undertaking, the initiation of such an action cannot, in my opinion, be considered any form of war crime.

The latter charges, specifically attempted extermination and the use of human/civilian shields seem to be the most relevant, and if you would wish to forward a detailed analysis of the events in which these actions have been undertaken – then we may have a case for prosecution for these crimes.

Her Imperial Highness Aranel Miriel Aduniel Celebtiriel nos Fëanor



The Roanian message was uninteresting. She wrote back, containing a few details of her economic targets for the place. Getting the whole bunch of them into work and off the streets seemed to be the main thrust of it.

Then the Xirniumite letter: After almost half an hour, she found out that the Allaneans had indeed declared war on Xirnium. It then took her the best part of an hour to recover from laughing about it, sufficiently to write.


To: His Grace the High Well Born
Lord Floréntian Valdyä Dornthònion, Baron of House Arménôst
From:
Her Imperial Highness
Aranel Miriel Aduniel Celebtiriel nos Fëanor

Dear Lord Arménôst,

It was with some hilarity that I read your epistle. Even by the standards of ineptitude to which I am fast becoming accustomed to, and have currently fled from to my homeland again, this is a tremendous story I found difficult to credit and had to take some significant time searching for corroboration of before I could believe it.

For what it’s worth, although I had nothing to do with it, and still view it with incredulity, you may consider this the ‘Official Surrender of the United States of Allanea’ and please find enclosed, for the treasuries of the Eternal Republic of Xirnium a reparation of one coin, made by myself from the garish pistols Mr. Kazansky has been known to use to murder his enemies.

I would ask that you keep this ‘surrender’ low profile, as in the interests of what little social stability Allanea has, I will instruct them to present it as an agreement to open the local markets to Xirniumite trade, as improbable as it seems.

Regrettably, I feel obligated not to give you the apology you have requested in any explicit form, as I most certainly am not responsible for the ongoing cavalcade of stupidity that has comprised previous administrations there. Presumably such would be a matter for their ‘congress’ which, frankly, has more important things to do, such as restoring at least superficial democracy.

Yours Faithfully,

Miriel Aduniel Celebtiriel nos Fëanor


She picked up one of the few remaining coins, the one depicting the lamps of the Valar, examined the eight-pointed-eight-spiked star of jet on the reverse for a moment, and then set it aside with the letter.

Now to see if the Allaneans would vote on her amendment…

The Amendment

In the meanwhile, the Miriel Amendment, as rewritten by Congress (to allow for life terms interjected by elections) was passed by the Senate and the Congress itself. Only the trifling matter of the state legislatures remained - and three of them have already accepted it.

The Economy

In the meanwhile, the stock and asset purchases from abroad, the projects initiated by Miriel's government, and the donation – if it can be called such – by We Buy It, Inc. combine together to cause a process which is called by the editorialists at Liberty Times 'the beginnings of an economic recovery'.

The Allanean News Network goes further and calls it 'an investment bonanza'. 'Rush to the stock market, young man' - the ANN's economic commentator waxes poetic – 'Rush and invest, for tomorrow it will be too late!'.

Radio Air Allanea merely mocks ANN and LT and comments that 'for the man in the street, things have never been worse since the One Day War', but Air Allanea is rarely taken seriously be anyone.

Kazansky's Jail Cell

After making a few phone calls – even the former President of the United States appears to need a lawyer – the disgraced Field Marshal discovers that, while he's allowed to have a computer, Internet access is out of bounds for him.

And so he types up a long letter. In it, he details the workings of Allanea's Congress, and the processes, delicate and yet simple at the same time, whereby the 'semi-direct online democracy' can be made efficient and useful. He writes about the different power groups, their interests and their leaders, their drink choice and their hobbies. He mentions how to bribe, cajole, and arm-twist the different party big shots into action, how to manipulate the Anarchists against the New World Order and the two of them against the Libertarians and the Libertarians against the Republicans.

Slowly, slowly, from the pages of Kazansky's letter rises an image of order rising in the seeming chaos that is Allanea's 8,200-member Congress. The Brownian movement of opinions and votes is replaced by a parallelogram of forces explaining why and how the factions act the way they do and how to maintain policy in the face of this struggle

“It may seem strange to you, but to these people, it's the most normal thing ever,” -writes Kazansky - “This is why people act surprised when you talk to them about the chaos of the system. Anybody that's been watching Congress act knows that there's logic to their actions. But I give you more. If you follow these basic instruction, I am sure your common sense will enable you not just to understand how it works, but to position yourself so as to exert a modicum of influence over these people.”

The day after that, he writes another letter – more like a report – detailing the state of Allanea's military, the conditions of life of the soldiers, and – less obviously – the role it plays in the nation and in the minds of the people. “The Strategic Forts have to be scrapped and replaced by a better system, but it has to be done gradually, or we may end up creating a windowo of opportunity for an invader.”

He continues writing – detailed, well-written and thought-out guides on Allanea's society and culture, the different politicians and their mindsets, with where to eat in Liberty-City how to best make yourself liked by the Allanean voter. “Remember, Allaneans are inherently hedonist. They don't care if you put on a helmet and pretend to work like them, but they want to see you have fun like them. Release a video sequence where you are seen hunting, or partying, or something to this air, and you will appeal better to the common Allanean then a thousand visits to a factory would. Visit convention halls, not factories.”

The letters – thin stacks of typed paper – arrive on Miriel's desk at regular intervals. Rarely, if ever, do they contain any emotional content, and the end is almost standard.

I hope you find this useful. Please write back if you want to know something more on this topic, and I will write more about it next time. If you're not busy, I'd be happy to get some clue as to how you are that has not been filtered by your press corps.

With love,
Alex.

From: Her Majesty Miriel II, Queen of Allanea
To: The Congress of the United States of Allanea
Subject: Constitutional Amendment

I know I was most rudely interrupted; but as I was saying. No. That really doesn’t work at all. As I said; the point I was aiming to make was that ‘the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of Patriots’ in the same way, any viable leadership must be refreshed from time to time with the endorsement of the people. I could live with an alteration of the exact times, but a regular – by the reckoning of non-augmented humans – process of re-endorsement is a non-negotiable condition of my remaining in office.

Yours Sincerely,
Miriel nos Fëanor

I can’t believe I’m doing this, Miriel thought, as she walked into the conference hall; it was small and nonetheless well used. The size of the trash cans at the back spoke volumes about how much traffic the place saw.

Rather than the secret service, she was on this occasion, accompanied by a heavily armed pair of Sisters of Liberty, who looked like bookends, as they were from orders with black on red and red on black colours respectively and even had opposite main hands. She was also followed by well, an alarmingly large number of rather tactless undercover agents of the former service, too.

There were also a disturbingly large number of soldiers on the streets, and a lot of disgruntled looks around. Though for the most part she seemed to get brief tirades of adulation and fascination. One deranged woman even charged up to her and screamed that she ‘wanted your babies.’

That had been… difficult.

She went into the building through the door labelled ‘StosselCon’ followed by two seemingly nonsensical numbers.

Reply from Congress' Coalition Parties

There are no (or virtually no) unaugmented humans in Allanea, but if you wish, we'll go through the process and make the term of office, say, ten years. But please don't leave.

* * *

Compared to the other conventions, StosselCon was very quite. There were exhibits of tea leaves, teapots, tea ceremonies and all sorts of devices for drinking and making tea, and thousands of Allaneans in - comparatively – traditional clothing. There were even some Hashi (who, as we all know, view the tea ceremony as a semi-religious event) in their traditional garbs, and several company stands advertising their teas – but the stand of honor was taken by a large samovar and the logo of the real Stossel Tea Company – and a living member of Baron Stossel's family – an nice-looking lady in an actual crinolin that curtsied to Miriel and smiled politely.

And of course there were photographers from three tea magazines and fifteen blogs – the flashes were all pointed at Miriel the minute she came in.

“I didn't know you liked tea, Your Majesty?” - Ernestina von Stossel smiles and says – her voice surprisingly quite and polite for an Allanean.

Miriel blinked a few times, took a pair of delicate glasses from her pocket flicking them open as she did so and wedging them far back on her nose; she had acute eyesight after all, and these had another use; they were polarising. Then she smiled at Ernestina, “Oh yes. Even elves fall over if we drink wine all the time,” she said, “Yours is actually one of the most popular Allanean consumer goods in Menelmacar,” she said, that was of course, not saying very much.

She took something from her pocket, that resembled, after a fashion, a mobile phone with neither keys nor screen, “One moment please…” she said and stepped aside.

Her next words, if one spoke Quenya, were ‘You can tell them that it’s five years or none…’ she put it away, and stepped back, “Ah, yes,” she continued, “I most certainly do.”

"Oh, my grandfather would be so proud, Your Majesty. Please accept a small gift..." - and she hands the elven lady a box made of balsa wood. It contains a Stossel Tea gift package, with samples of all sorts of high-grade Stossel breeds.

After a few minutes, the reply to Miriel comes. "Yes. But please stay."

Miriel smiled, and took something from another of her pockets, that consisted of a golden leaf wrapped around a package. She took a card from an inside pocket and slipped it inside, “This may interest you, too,” she said, “inside was a bag of tealeaves in a deep red colour. I forget what the planet is called¹; but these are grown exclusively on delicate water on a protected planet somewhere; that’s also used to make a popular cocktail, one of the Elenaran’s favourites. I think they work well with tea, tell me what you think.

She took the device out again, ‘Now go for the total term limits…’ she said.

---

¹ Seriously, I do OOC too. It's largely covered in red water, hence the pigmentation, as it's very much like food dyes and a really flavourful mineral water. It will also host multi-cellular life in the future. Obviously, protected means that there are strict limits on the usage of non-synthetic water from it. To the point where the appropriate elements must be put back in the right combination in equal mass. Strict enviromental types in Menelmacar...

"I will tell you, then - I assume they take quite a while to stew before they can be drunk, don't they, your Majesty?" - smiles the Stossel heiress - "There's some form of recipe for me to write down, I guess."

There's a horrible confusion among he Congressmen in the meanwhile, and within minutes Miriel is bombarded with phonecalls and text messages about how horrible and un-Allanean term limits are. Eventually - on the pressure that she will be leaving the country if they do not give in - they do, and the final form of the Miriel Amendment enters the Congressional record.

And minutes later, the various tea reporters are on her, asking a bewildering array of tea questions.

A slight fast-forwarding

Days later, pictures of Miriel's appearance at the StosselCon move from the tea-lovers' magazines and blogs to the regular press. The headlines are varied, but generally approving. Miriel's approval rating rises several percentile points. A copy of Tea Today's front page is delivered to Miriel's residence with her picture on the front cover. And Kazansky's letter bears a simple post-scriptum:

I saw the article in Tea Today. Beautiful - keep that up and you'll have no trouble at all with us badgers.

In a private conversation, somewhere on the DATANET.

<CommSeq02b> It's all fairly rediculous, really. The Allaneans are taking orders from a Menelmacari, and a few of the more 'conservative' types are rushing to normalize relations.

<DDTR2z> Agreed, not to mention that the Allanean economy tends to bounce up and down like a yo-yo. I can certainly understand why Pheonix chose to withdraw. And why our government forbade us to get involved also.

* CommSeq02b snickers.

<CommSeq02b> Never the less, 'Queen' Miriel isn't exactly any guarentee that the Allanean state has changed. You've seen how history operates; for the Allaneans, it repeats itself.

<DDTR2z> Maybe somebody should warn them?

<CommSeq02b> Some people need to learn the hard way, unfortunately.

Menelmacar

Miriel had at least met one Allanean she liked so far. ‘That’s one’ wasn’t very comforting. She’d moved away from paper, and was now busy working between a raft of holographic screens displaying graphs and projections.

First up, the oh-so-glorious United States military. She had her ideas for that. She was going to propose expansion by thirty seven percent over the next five years.

Of course, this was mostly to combat unemployment. One of many schemes she was considering for that. The idea was to raise military manpower while scrapping some of the more egregiously useless inventions.

The problem with things like dismantling the entirely useless ‘Space Marines’ with their megaton level personal range munitions that had never been used was that the Allaneans had no clue that they were useless, and would react negatively to being told.

The Allanean national ego required shiny gizmos that went ‘whiz’ and ‘bang’ and seemed to always be so impractical that the ground was their main enemy.


Then there were other projects to consider; Miriel wanted some holes dug; artificial lakes, foundations for future projects, geothermal taps. Bridges. Dams. Water-power generators, and many other things. Roads and tree planting schemes, and a curious selection of monolithic constructs…

State employment for the huddled masses of Allanea!

Venus

Asirnoth’s palace was over fifty kilometres into the crust of the planet, in a cavern of glass and diamond so high and wide that it had its own ecosystem. The chambers of the bunker, ornately designed to resist physical impacts from any direction, especially above, were generally seven thousand meters high, permitting the formation of even the highest clouds beneath their blue-crystal skies. Pillars dotted the landscape here and there, composed of transparent armour-glass that meant they couldn’t be seen beyond a moderate distance, and conspired to create the illusions of sun and when the sky darkened, night, by projecting images relayed from a million satellites to vast holographic arrays in these pillars.

Picturesque castles, many of them designed to blend both quasi-gothic aesthetics with modern practicality, also occurred quite frequently, all inhabited. Chief amongst those, almost city sized, was Asirnoth’s ‘home,’ a palace that was far larger than his brother’s, home to both himself, and his beloved wife, their extensive court of servants, entertainers and courtesans. He kept all of those, in huge numbers to amuse his wife. She was an arrogant woman, as he was, and he enjoyed her as she was – which meant keeping people around for Aelosia to rule over.

Watching her in ornamental gardens, he smiled faintly, and almost absentmindedly pointed some Allanean journalist to a book Miriel had written on weapons some fifteen hundred years ago.

Elsewhere completely

In the meanwhile, Kevin Nivensky issued a completely new edition of his coinage – this time, with Miriel's profile on the new five-dollar note, and the profile of Emperor Ranisath on the 200-dollar bill (which was notably rare). As usual, Allanean Arms colony freighters continued getting off the ground at random rates, populating Julia with increasing amounts of settlers. Slowly, Allanean Arms was buying the apartment houses of the poor in Liberty-City and replacing them with strip-malls, office towers, and other such projects – even as the population of Julia grew larger and unemployment in the mainland dropped off steadily.

The Stossel Tea Company, Limited funded a modest advertisement campaign in Greater Menelmacar, with the hopes to get themselves another stable export market outside Allanea. For them at least, the main thrust of the economic crisis was passing – why, they were even considering an expansion inside Allanea itself.

All was going on approximately to plan – and the Republican Party had endorsed Miriel as their future Presidential candidate should the Miriel Amendment pass – which it was slowly doing, in Congress and already in six states.

And, eventually, a proposal to build an immense palace for the Allanean Queen had hit the halls of Congress.

Promises, Intentions and Lies, AKA, a ‘platform’ for the Presidency


Military reform (See Above)
Operations to combat unemployment (See above)
Continued economic regeneration by continuing to provide a stable environment
Foreign policy emphasising non-confrontational interaction, and a reassessment of existing foreign links.

And so, the Miriel Program – soon to become widely-known across Allanea – earned her the support of the Republican and Libertarian parties. But not all was clear. The Democrats and Constitutoinalists had both submitted their own candidates. The Constitutionalist was rooting for a smaller government and military while insisting on closed borders and expulsion of all non-citizens from Allanea, and the Democrat was clamoring for an extensive system of income taxation, a series of regulation on heavy industry, and 'make-work' projects to encompass up to two hundred million Allaneans.

Further, the Senator who asked Miriel not to leave the Allaneans had written to her, offering himself as her running mate. He suggested he would resign from office if his candidacy was accepted, and offered to stump for her in several states that looked that they might, in fact, swing to the Democrats.

Kazansky had sent a letter too, detailing a short list of cities that he thought that Miriel should visit during her campaign, and the constituencies to which the speeches in those cities should appeal.

And so, Senator Orrin Dodge arrived at the White House. He was escorted merely by a single penguinoid aide that remained behind at the entrance of the Presidential Office.

Dodge himself carried a small binder detailing the strategy by which he would deploy the faithful in his particular state to ensure a landslide victory – and the sums of donations he could raise by speaking for the fusion candidacy at different rallies.

“Let me be entirely frank,” Miriel’s words of greeting weren’t usual for her, nor particularly polite, “If you want to be my running mate, you must want to be president…”

"Let me be entirely frank as well. You have repeatedly stated you do not wish to be President of the United States. While I am offended by this, I still believe you to be the best candidate for the job. And myself, second-best. As such, the best way to ensure that Allanea will have the optimal leadership when and if you leave – and I still think you should not – is to, of course, ensure I will be President after you. And of course there's the usual human desire to ascend the ladder of power."

“I’m really not. I don’t want power, and I never have, that’s why I don’t have some fancy and shiny position back home. And it’s certainly not why I’m here. The only reason I’m insisting on elections and so on is because I’m convinced that the previous system was such a total mess. I don’t want to stay here, and I most certainly don’t want to rule anyone. It’s not my job. I’m not a stand-in for the Menelmacari, or any such thing, I’m only here because Kazansky had some terrible and juvenile obsession with me…”

The Senator smiles suddenly. "How old are you, your Majesty? I apologize for asking, but it seems you are far more naive and young then our Founder. But it is good. You can run Allanea better then anybody else- and... don't you like the place, just a bit? You should see the real Allanea. Not what you see on television in your nation, not what you can see from behind the guards' rifles - the real nation. The bars and the parties and the factories and the real people who live here. Maybe you'll want to stay with us, after all."

“Old,” she said, “And I’ve seen enough of life to know that I don’t want to be the one making life and death decisions for… billions. This is, perhaps unfairly, one of the most unpopular nations in existence, and has regular wars where millions of people die. I don’t want that on my conscience, and I certainly can’t influence the place enough to prevent it. Do you really want that kind of power? I know many who do, of course, but truly, considering it, why?

“It’s not my place to tell other people where they should fight, what they should die for, who they should revere… And yet that’s what’s asked of me…”

"You're the President of the United States. Give the order, and the military will fold to a peaceful, defensive-order status. Give the order, and the navy will sink it's cruisers outside Liberty-Bay. Or, contrarily, give the order, and turn Iesus Christi into a pile of ashes, with it's stormtroopers begging the Field Marshal of Allanea for mercy that does not come. You can save Allanea - you can't perhaps reshape it's hearts and minds ,but you can influence it's executive branch - order it about - prevent those wars you speak of - anything you want within it's power."

"You can save billions of lives - change the world for the better, at least for us Allaneans. I realize you cannot possibly respect us as much as you respect the Menelmacari, but we're really not Gungans either - no offense to any Gungans you may have on your staff. To refuse the opportunity would be... childish. Though... no offense, your Majesty, you may be millenia old, but you're still a child. Even though you're older then Allanea itself."

“And what would any of that achieve? It’d just get you killed by all the people you’ve pissed off over the years. Honestly now. I might be able to do that, but it doesn’t mean I’m qualified to do it. I’m not even a bloody ‘Allanean.’”

"Oh we won't be stomped. We can fire three-quarters of the Army and still have enough firepower to hold the bad guys off until the dozens and dozens of allies we have turn up. We don't need all of these expensive tanks to protect Allanean liberty. Everybody know that. And as for your qualifications... I'm familiar with your insights on politics and history. You're more qualified to run a country then anybody else I know."

"And look - we all know you didn't go to the StosselCon because you like tea. For a 'non-Allanean', it was a briliant ide and a briliant PR move. If you wanted to prove that you're one of us, you sure did."

"You've been doing good so far - don't you chicken out on us now."

"Pardon my rough expression, Your Majesty."

"Could you please leave..." she said.

The Senator leaves, indeed. He doesn't care much - he's been skipped on appointments before and he knows when the loss is his fault, anyway.

Deciding to take advantage of what might be, at best, a temporary opportunity to resolve the issue of the island of Heregos, Ambassador Katalyn was instructed to seek an appointment with the President, which she did via way of letter.

To: Her Imperial Highness, Lady Miriel nos Fëanor, President of the United States of Allanea

Your Highness,

RE: Allanean settlers on the island of Heregos

I write to seek a meeting with Your Highness to discuss the matter of an illegal settlement on the island of Heregos in the Pantocratorian Archipelago.

As you may be aware, Pantocratoria has long reserved the right to approve or reject of settlements being established on the islands in close proximity to the Pantocratorian mainland. While Pantocratoria does not occupy some of these islands, the Imperial Government must be fully satisfied that a given settlement on the islands of the Pantocratorian Archipelago does not pose a risk or inconvenience to Pantocratoria, its people, or its national security.

Some time ago, a group of Allanean freemen established a settlement on the island of Heregos, just near Pantocratorian territorial waters. It is our understanding that this settlement was not authorised nor approved by the United States Government. We have since prevented further settlers from arriving but have not removed those settlers who are on Heregos at this time, although Pantocratoria reserves the right to do so.

The Imperial Government's preferred solution would be for the United States to demonstrate a sense of responsibility for the actions of its citizens, especially insofar as respecting the sovereignty of other nations is concerned, and assist Pantocratoria in the peaceful removal of the settlers from Heregos. Whereas the Imperial Government has little to offer the settlers, and can only threaten to remove them by force if necessary, the Allanean Government may be able to offer the settlers enticements to return to the United States. As the settlers are civilians, we naturally wish to pursue as peaceful a course of action as possible, and believe that Allanea can and should assist us in that.

I would appreciate it if you could take the time to discuss the matter with me at your earliest possible convenience. The leader of these colonists is one Norris Masterson, and we would be happy to facilitate communications between Your Highness or any agent of the United States Government and Monsieur Masterson, at your request.

I have the honour to remain, Mademoiselle, Your Imperial Highness' most humble and obedient servant.



Isabelle Katalyn

His Most Catholic and Imperial Majesty's Ambassador to the United States of Allanea

Miriel frowned a little as she read over the Pantocratorian missive. She leaned back in the chair and glanced around the rounded office that had been Kazansky's. It was fairly bare at the moment, as upon taking up residence she had nearly entirely cleaned the office out, leaving only the bookshelves, the desk, the chair, and the big oval rug that she simply had yet to replace. What was there - a House Fëanor banner, some various objets d'art, a number of her books - were something of a mess, as her belongings had over the past few days done little but migrate in and out of the shipping crates still scattered about as she mulled over whether or not she should even be here.

She waved a hand towards what appeared at first glance to be a small, sinuous abstract sculpture of silver and glowing crystal on the desk; it was in fact the Menelmacari analog to a desktop computer. The crystals inside the device glowed and pulsed with the flows of light along nanoscopic optronic quantum circuitry too fine to perceive even for an elf, and a holographic display snapped to life above the desk, gently curved in both dimensions so that every point of it was equidistant from her eyes. She leaned back in the chair, and began to dictate a response.

"Compose message, text only. Recipient, Pantocratorian Ambassador Katalyn. Begin dictation..."

She frowned, pausing, and emptied into one hand the small velvet bag with the gold-and-jet daggerstar coins that had been struck from the metal that had been Kazansky's weapons. All but one were placed in a neat stack on the desk, while Miriel let the last dance along her fingertips in a fidgety display of a mix of magic and sleight-of-hand. Finally she began again to speak.

"It was with interest that I read your recent missive regarding Heregos. I am as you must know keenly interested in reversing the reputation with which Allanea has been painted thanks to the actions of... my predecessor's administration. I share your desire for a peaceful and lasting resolution to the Heregos issue, and will gladly meet with you at your earliest discretion.

"Sincerely, Her Imperial Highness Aranel Miriel Aduniel Celebtiriel nos Fëanor."

In the meanwhile, the Alllanean Royal Navy has coughed up a single young man – Captain Abdullah Smith. While the Allanean Royal Navy does not have uniform duty, Smith had walked to the White House in the nearest thing he had to a uniform – the gray cadet uniform of the paramilitary boarding school that raised him – the Robert Edward Lee Military Academy. Like any Academy graduate, Smith had a deep distaste of the lack of discipline of the Allanean Navy, and it's disregard of things like uniforms and badges. Personally, he believed that external discipline was not merely a trifle, but a conduit to discipline internal, which is the necessity to any victory. His education under Sakkran officers only re-established this belief.

Physically, Captain Smith looked as if he had just walked out of the graduation ceremony of his academy – he was young-looking as befits of a long-time user of juvenats. It was customary in Allanea to try and look as if you're sixteen, and Captain Abdullah Smith could afford it. The only thing that made the difference between him and a regular sixteen-year-old were the Navy ranks attached to his suit and the cyberlink plugs in the back of his head, denoting a Porcupine Pilot – one of the most honored positions in the Allanean Navy.

And so it was this young man that scheduled an appointment – through his countless connections – with Miriel.

As he entered the Oval Office, he saluted and stood to attention.

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

Most Allaneans would smile benevolently at best at Abdullah's attention to manner at circumstance. He hoped this elven lady would understand.

"I have brought these… sketches to your attention."

"A Captain Smith to see you, my Lady," came the introduction over the comm as Miriel finished with her message to the Pantocratorian ambassador. She frowned, squirming a little in the chair - it was designed for a human more than a foot shorter than her, not an elf, so the support on the back was all wrong. She'd have to replace it too, if she was going to stay.

"Send him in," she answered. She made a dismissive gesture at the computer, and the display vanished as the pilot came in. She looked him over, pleased at his evident discipline, and tried to puzzle him out. He evidently had at least some Middle Eastern heritage, which belied his surname. It wouldn't be until she pulled up his service record after the meeting that she would discover that came from his mother's side. She gave him the benevolent smile he probably expected - that at least came naturally to her, even if he was Allanean - and she returned his greetings. "Oh? Sketches?" she wonders. Well, it was a diversion from the usual, at least.

The Pantocratorian Ambassador's (armoured) car was a large, black Peacock Motors luxury model, although despite the brand, it wasn't imported. Peacock Motors had moved a large part of its manufacturing off shore to Allanea to take advantage of lower corporate taxation and lax labour laws. The move had been deeply unpopular back in Pantocratoria, of course, but at the end of the day there was still only one real Pantocratorian automobile brand, and it enjoyed such dominance in the domestic market that the public outrage didn't translate into a consumer backlash big enough to convince Peacock that it had made the wrong move. The Ambassador's car, then, was deceptively Pantocratorian - every part of it but the leather interior and the small Pantocratorian flag on the bonnet had been manufactured in the United States of Allanea. It pulled up outside the White House at the arranged time, and the Ambassador and her aide were soon inside and ferried off to see the person ambiguously referred to in official Pantocratorian diplomatic correspondence as "the Allanean Head of State".

"Your Imperial Highness," the Ambassador began, bowing upon her introduction to Miriel. "I've not yet had the pleasure. I am Isabelle Katalyn, His Majesty's Ambassador to the United States, at Your Highness' service. This is my aide, Georges Percival."

"Your Highness." Percival said in a severe tone of voice, bowing.

“Yes, your Majesty. You know that the Royal Navy does not have uniforms for it's staff, save by for a series of badges to denote rank. I have a few ideas as to how to remedy that. If you allow me...”

Smith had presented to Miriel a series of sketches presenting an idea for comfortable – and yet rather respectable looking uniform. “You see, your Majesty, the same design is comfortable enough to work as both shipboard wear and parade dress – of course the parade dress set would have to be cleaner and neater and newer then the shipboard uniform, but otherwise it's going to be the same. I was inspired by some ancient Russian design (http://www.russianwarrior.com/Images/68no5navt.jpg), but I made it dark blue instead of black and I replaced the gold with silver. Otherwise it's the same – although it'd be much, much more comfortable then the original, and the horrible golden buttons will be removed altogether. Something much more modest, and then yet much more respectable, Your Royal Majesty.”

“Alternatively, I also have a black-and-silver design.”

“Do not mistake me, your Majesty. This is not about the looks of the Allanean Navy – it is an issue of -” the captain blushes slightly - “national security. I want the men aboard the big carrier ships to identify with the Navy, not with their local fursuit club. It makes me feel so much more secure when I deploy in my Porcupine – no offense meant, your Majesty.”

“I hope this fits within your ideas of reform in the Royal Armed Forces.|”

By all accounts, the country was getting better.

The economy was getting better – the currency market has stabilized, unemployment a was in freefall – thanks to both the increased military ranks, and the various policies of the Queen, with her public works and infrastructure projects, as well as increased demand for Allanean goods abroad and the help of We Buy It, Inc.

The nation's self-assurance was returning – with renewed relations with several nations, a rebuilding military, and a new diplomatic service, people were even more proud to be Allanean then they usually were.

Even the environment was getting better, as geothermal taps replaced aging combustion plants and nuclear reactors, and millions of people moved out to Julia.

One man, however, was not getting better.

Perhaps it was Doctor Blindermann's treatment, or perhaps the dweomerite shackles, or both, but Kazansky had never recuperated full from his ordeal. Now, he was getting rapidly worth. In the morning of March, 19th, he was discovered unconscious in his jailhouse bed.

Doctors failed to diagnose the exact illness.

He spent the entire day shifting between complete unconsciousness and horrible moments of fever, coughing blood and unseemly convulsions. He could not talk clearly, and it was not certain whether he was aware of his surroundings.

By the second day, a court order was procured to move him to house arrest – not that anybody knew if it would make any difference. By the third day, it was clear it wasn’t – and nobody knew what actually would.

After the Election

Even despite Kazansky's illness, Miriel had won her first election - though at only 50% of the popular vote, rather then the expected enormous landslide. Nobody has known why this was – and Miriel's advisors didn't care either. "We won," – they told her, "that's all that matters."

The economy continued to improve, and perhaps – so said the analysts – would begin to approach it's pre-Phoenix Collapse values in a few years. The military increased it's ranks. Every policy introduced by Miriel met with a resounding success – and yet, a feeling of strange gloom set down on the city.

It penetrated to the very halls of Her Majesty's cabinet – where Victoria was often absent now, returning with her eyes red and her face tired.

It went to the DREAD chambers, where Reijiro was equally absent, and when he was in, was irritable and tired-looking, seeming to spend more time cleaning his glasses then actually working.

It went to the Liberty-City Cathedral, where now more people then ever assembled, feeling, strangely, even more unsure of themselves and the future then they did when the Allanean Pi appeared to lose all value.

It went to the very skies above Liberty-City – that became gray and cloud, coating the city in a white blanket of snow.

In the meanwhile, one group of people in Allanea was completely – and blissfully – unaffected by the gloom of the capital – the inhabitants of the Omeldor domes. About sixty million Allaneans resided there – and from where they sat, all was good. The economic crisis did not reach them at all – but now, the sensation of total gloom that was slowly spreading, like a cancer, from the capital, had begun to affect them.

Candles lit in churches, and people flew to the banners of Christ, Jehova, or even Sirithil. Television hosts began to wear black suits - and the Allanean flags that, in days past, decorated every building, we now becoming less and less popular. Something was up. Or, more correctly, something was down – not the economy, that was on the rise, and not military recruitment – but the entire nation.

Katalyn began even as she was sitting down. "The Imperial Government is relieved that the United States finally have a President willing to discuss the matter of Heregos in a meaningful fashion, Your Highness," the Pantocratorian Ambassador began after the customary exchange of pleasantries, seeking to bring things quickly to the point. "Previous administrations have, at best, had the Secretary of State express sympathy for Pantocratoria's position, whilst taking no real action."

"A pleasure to get a chance to sit down with you, madam ambassador Katalyn." Miriel smiles, leaning back in the chair a little, and then letting it rock back upright almost immediately - she had, momentarily, forgotten it wasn't yet replaced. "It is, naturally, the wish of my administration to have amenable relations with Pantocratoria and as many other nations as are willing. Except sans the insanity of my predecessor." She reaches over and picks up Katalyn's letter, perusing it briefly, then glances back up at her. "Have you any suggestions for a resolution?"

"We have by now stemmed the tide of would-be settlers, as a result of an on-going naval operation to prevent further immigration to Heregos," Katalyn explained. "The Imperial Government has threatened to remove the settlers and deport them, but any such operation will be undertaken by the military, and we've been concerned about the potential for civilian casualties, given how heavily armed the settlers are. It seems that any attempt by Pantocratoria to forceably remove the settlers will end with civilian casualties…"

Miriel simply nods at this, and frowns, but listens, since it seems Katalyn has more.

"The Cabinet believes that if Allanean personnel were involved in such an operation, the settlers… might… be less likely to resist with force." Katalyn offered. "There is also the possibility that serious engagement with Masterson and his followers on the part of the Allanean Government with a view to convincing them to leave the Archipelago might prove more fruitful. Unfortunately, they're becoming fairly established, and will become more recalcitrant every day."

Miriel nods. "I can understand your situation. Now, if I read this right, Pantocratoria reserves the right to claim these islands, am I right?"
"It does, but it also reserves the right to approve or reject other nations establishing settlements on the unoccupied islands." Katalyn replied. "It's a position which dates back to some of the earliest treaties between the natives of the archipelago and Pantocratoria."

Miriel sighs, and ponders briefly. "Your letter spoke of enticements. Unfortunately, miss Katalyn, there is only so much I can do. Allaneans have historically gone out of their way to emasculate their governments as much as possible, which in many areas is not a bad policy, but which can be troublesome in others. So in many ways, my hands are tied. Much as in your situation, I cannot force those people off Heregos, not without using the army. So… what enticements did you have in mind?"

"Perhaps some arrangement could be made with the settlers which addressed the reason for their emigration, whatever that may be? Presumably they left Allanea dissatisfied with it in some fashion, perhaps their concerns could be addressed," Katalyn suggested. "Masterson claimed the settlers were fleeing poverty in Allanea when he was interviewed on Pantocratorian television, for instance."

"That is a possibility, and one we will look into. I hope it is as simple as that. Still, in repatriating the settlers there will be costs; and there will be costs these settlers have incurred in settling in the first place. If it was poverty they fled, those are costs I suspect they can well not afford. Another limit Allanea's constitution places on me is where I can spend the already limited public purse… and enacting Pantocratorian policy isn't one of them. Here is my thinking:" Miriel abruptly pauses, then continues. "Before I continue. How extensive is this archipelago? Is there another, relatively nearby, island to which the people might be relocated that would not be… discomforting to His Majesty's government? Or would be, at least, less so?"

"There are other unoccupied islands," Katalyn answered, bristling a little bit as she straightened up in her chair somewhat for reasons which were not necessarily entirely apparent. "None of them would be suitable, however."
The elf shrugs. "All right. It was just a thought. Now, here's my thinking. If it is truly poverty they are fleeing, then money should do the trick. Allanea's eminent domain laws are… restrictive. But nothing prevents me, as a…" She pauses, looking for the word. She isn't actually a citizen, after all. "…private entity, from purchasing the land myself, and covering the costs of these people's repatriation. Then Pantocratoria can claim the island with the intention of putting… I don't know, a radar station or something… on it. Pantocratoria purchases the land from me at the same value I paid. Since there's no profit, there's no conflict of interest."

"From whom would Your Highness be purchasing the land? It has no owner," Katalyn replied, somewhat confused.

"From the settlers, madam Ambassador. They style themselves the owners, and using Allanean history as a precedent, would be widely seen as such here. The transaction would both honor Allanean traditions and satisfy the needs of both our governments. In return, I will see to it Congress passes a statute that forbids Allanean freemen from founding autonomous settlements of this nature in territories claimed or held under reservation by foreign states. As for those that refuse to sell – there will be some, there always are – Pantocratoria would be exercising its right to claim the island and as such could remove the remaining settlers as needed, or request that Allanea do so. With most of them removed, at very least the possibility of bloodshed is drastically reduced, if not eliminated entirely. There is after all safety in numbers, and by extension, lack of it in lack of them."

"It wouldn't be possible, mademoiselle, for the Imperial Government to recognize the legitimacy of such a transaction," the ambassador answered, shaking her head. "The settlers are not the owners, whether they claim to be the owners or not, and have no right to sell the land to Your Highness. We can't recognise that they do have such a right, either. It would establish a disagreeable precedent."

"It would not. By establishing even a token installation in the archipelago, you establish your sovereignty in the region as well. Further it would be henceforth illegal in Allanea to found such settlements unless there is no foreign lien whatsoever on the territory in question. I am sure we have gotten further today than you have gotten with any previous administration, and sometimes a little pragmatism is required to settle these issues in a manner that gets everyone what they want."

"You want them out. I want them out. They want, if their grievance was poverty, assets, and being Allaneans, not to be herded about like cattle by men with larger guns than theirs. I want to end this matter but the limitations of Allanean government necessitate that it be ended creatively."

"I am not sure I agree, with all respect, that the solution you propose is particularly pragmatic from the Pantocratorian perspective," Katalyn replied. "If we recognised that the settlement was legitimate by effectively buying the island from the settlers, then we would be opening the flood gates. Establishing a precedent by which the Pantocratorian Empire could be extorted by a group settling on an island in the archipelago and refusing to leave until we bought the island from them."

"You simply change the policy, madam ambassador. Perhaps, 'No new settlements in the archipelago, period. Found one, and we flatten you.' You cannot deny that the ambiguity of your current policy is at least partly to blame here. 'We don't claim the island, but we reserve the right to approve'? Miss Katalyn, I assure you that you want to deal with me on this. I am Menelmacari by birth, and Menelmacari to the core of my being. These people are in many ways alien to me. But if I'm forced to offend their peculiarities, then I will not be their leader for long, and instead they will put in another nuke-happy cowboy who will invite you over, give you tea, and then tell you where you can stuff your claims. You want to deal with me. Please, don't make me do something that's going to make them elect someone else."

"The policy, ambiguous or not, has been in place for a century, and it is a good one," Katalyn replied, having expected that sooner or later she'd have to defend it. "A policy more nuanced than flattening settlements allows us to review applications for settlement and approve those which we deem to be in our national interest. We are not unilaterally opposed to settlements, but we do vigorously assert our right to ensure that new settlements are in our national interest. There is nothing about the policy which the Imperial Government believes needs to be changed, except that it must be more quickly and energetically enforced in the future so that things don't get so out of control before we properly secure the island."

The Aranel pursed her lips, pausing briefly. "All right. Here's another suggestion."

The Ambassador's aide looked noticeably relieved as Miriel began her next suggestion.

"You may or may not be familiar with my great-grandmother's various offworld colonization projects, particularly the claim and terraforming of Eärendil, which I believe your people know as Venus. When Menelmacar landed on Eärendil, it initially claimed the entire planet. Outright. There was no ambiguity, and no question who were the world's lords and masters. On Heregos there is no owner and now we have a dispute. On Eärendil there was no dispute. Those that wished to settle would apply beforehand, and would purchase from Menelmacar a share of the planet which would be requested and reviewed ahead of time. My suggestion is to follow Lady Sirithil's lead. Claim outright the entire archipelago that remains empty, in the name of His Imperial Majesty or what-have-you. There would be an owner: The Imperial Government of Pantocratoria. And thus, no question of who to deal with if one wishes to settle there."

"I will be sure to pass that advice onto the Cabinet, Your Highness," the Ambassador replied.

"Your Highness, begging your pardon, but am I correct in understanding that you are suggesting that the Imperial Government do this in tandem with the buyback scheme you just proposed?" asked Percival, the ambassador's aide.

"Very perceptive, Percival," Miriel answers with a smile. "We have our peaceful resolution, Allanea enacts a law preventing its freemen from doing this again - at least on other people's claims - and Pantocratoria has a new settlement policy that achieves its aims while preventing a bad precedent."

Despite returning Miriel's smile, Percival's body language indicated that he had some sort of grave concern. He exchanged a glance with Katalyn.

"Your Highness," the Ambassador began. She gave a nervous pause. "I wonder whether you've an overall figure in mind already for the settlers' compensation?"

"Not as of yet. Your concern I presume is whether the number will spiral out of control and become a grievous expense to Pantocratoria, am I right?"

"That would be a factor the Cabinet would have to consider, yes, mademoiselle," the Ambassador replied.

"I will look into the matter, and perhaps talk with some of the settlers. Rest assured that I will do whatever I can to keep the number down. If it comes down to it, I'll resell it to the Allanean government at my cost – which still avoids eminent domain, obviously – and they can sell it to you and eat the loss. I just want this resolved. In any event, I am confident that the costs will be more than offset by Pantocratoria's being able to cease its naval blockade. But it would be of great help if I can, at least, get an agreement-in-principle on this plan, provided Pantocratorian costs are kept down."

"I'm afraid that I don't think that will be possible today, Your Highness," Katalyn replied apologetically. "But I feel this meeting has been very productive, and I know that the Imperial Government is pleased that you share their enthusiasm to resolve this issue peacefully."

"All right. If you could contact your government and get their agreement, it will add weight when I deal with the settlers."

"I will, of course, be in touch with them as soon as possible," the Ambassador smiled and nodded. "Thank you so much for your time, Your Highness. I very much appreciate it."

Miriel nods. "Thank you kindly for coming. I hope this works out."

Eventually, from the deep bowels of the Allanean Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a reply came for the Tiburonese:

We won't be selling Neo-Dallas. Now, New Florida... that's a different fish. Do you have any nice place for us to relocate the settlers?

And so in the meanwhile, as the Interstellar Strategic Missile program was decomissioned, the Partisan Tank divisions folded, and the DREAD funding reduced by over a trillion – over which Reijiro Techno was, of course, downright livid – Allanea's military was undergoing an increase. The Allanean Queen had promised a 37% military personnel increase, and this increase would be granted.

The first step – already approved by Congress – was the raising of one hundred additional Mechanized Infantry divisions, supplied by the Kriegzimmer factories on Roanoke Island. It would be a nice start towards Miriel's campaign promises – but more then that, it would improve the state of the economy. Two million people were dropping off the proverbial unemployment rolls, and many more were finding jobs in the arms industry.

The newspapers were filled with pictures of the leading executives of various arms companies and captions like Doing Our Part and Captains Of Industry and the Queen of Allanea – Working Together For Freedom. Thousands of rifles, boots, IFV's and other equipment rolled off the assemply lines, and hundreds of thousands of workers were sucked into the Allanean Arms factories to aid in the production.

But this was not the only measure. Congress passed – at an amazing 75% majority – the Quenya Tax Rebate Act, specifically excluding all payments for Quenya lessons, tuition in Quenya-medium schools, and all educational supplies necessary for learning the language from the sales tax. While some – like Concord University professor Gary Atwater – saw it as a targeted tax break for Allanea's elven community, most Allaneans saw it as a restoration of the Allanean commitment to advancing private education and the Free Market that was, after all, the bastion of Allanean freedom.

The Administration's approval rating had teetered in it's downward plunge, and rose again to 61%.

But the nation was still cloaked in gloom, and more and more people were becoming concerned – Why was the economy not improving as fast as they expected? Why was Miriel insisting on leaving Allanea in four terms' time? Why was Kazansky ill? Was he poisoned?

A sense of insecurity seemed to ooze through the cracks. People prepared bug-out bags and survival equipment, demand for ammunition and reloading equipment rose, and more and more people moved out into the 'far boonies'. The White House was pelted with miriad of letters – msot of whom Miriel was not likely to read in person, but of whose number she was made aware anyway – asking the same questions over and over - what was wrong, who was going to fix it, why was Kazansky sick, and could she stay with them longer, please?

A stream of enormous, open-topped, Rolling Fortress Mark VII trucks moved down Liberty Lane, past the White House, and towards Liberty Harbor. There, massive ships stood at the ready, prepared to take the new Mechanized Infantry divisions towards Roanoke Island. There, at the capital of Allanea's military industry, the new Permanent Strategic Fort would be built.

The massive mega-bunker complex would not only house large amounts of infantry, but also naval support units and long-range artillery, aircraft launch pads and missile arrays. It would become the center of a complex defense system that would envelop Roanoke Island – and, politically, it would become a symbol of the rebuilding national economy – among other symbols thereof.

Another such symbol was the massive amount of Quenya teachers that the Quenya Tax Rebate Act had spawned. Suddenly, it seemed, at least for Allanea's Noldor population, unemployment had ended. Dozens of schools, publishing houses, and agencies began to look anew into the business opportunities available with the Quenya language. The bizarre Quenya boom had even reached out abroad, where Allanean headhunter companies placed full-page ads in newspapers, seeking for 'Quenya teachers, advantage for native speakers'.

In the meanwhile, suspicion was growing among the population – first spread by the Internet, then by tabloids, and finally, voiced by Liberty Times. Kazansky, they said, had been poisoned. Some said he was poisoned by the authorities in Merkaz, seeking to cover up some horrible misdeed. Dozens of people picketed the state's Attorney General's office and home, demanding investigation of the poisoning, cessation of all charges against Kazansky, and medical help paid for by the government of Merkaz.

Others attributed the crime to the late doctor Blindermann. In some states, members of the psychiatric profession had to fight duels – such was the growing mistrust of their practices. This had a positive effect, as well – in Kalandia, it caused the police to look into allegations of horrible abuse at a psychiatric clinic, and convictions were end result. But generally the response was negative, and eight doctors were killed in duels by the end of the month – and one was lynched in Aissur.

Yet others blamed an Edolian communist conspiracy, possibly designed to weaken the nation, to be followed up by a massive invasion. As such, people continued to stock up on ammunition, guns, and emergency supplies, and to fortify their homes. In Axackal proper, a Communism Condemnation Act was passed by the local legislature, and the car of the local Communist Party leader had spontaneously combusted.

There were even people that blamed it on the Federal government – together with 'high taxes', unemployment, and the usual chemtrail and black helicopter stuff. The statement from the Department of Justice that 'our helicopters aren't really black, they're dark blue' didn't really help much in that department.

Miriel's approval rating froze at a solid 60.5%., even as economic indicators continued to rise and unemployment continued to fall.

The only person who continued to be blissfully unaware of all this was Alexander Kazansky – he was too busy drifting in and out of a fever, coughing his soul out, and watching nurses throw visitors out of his room in his rare moments of lucidity.

In the meanwhile, a strange change has taken place in the White House. It was not clear who did it, but the assistants, the clerks, and absolutely everybody else in the building except the Cabinet members was replaced within several days. Now, the staff had an entirely new spirit to them.

First, where previously the place has been filled with loudly-dressed – or completely undressed – Allaneans, their replacements wore tasteful – if old-fashioned – and modest clothing. Instead of a red-haired secretary that wore a two-inch skirt and nothing underneath now sat a young Christian girl from Graham's Village, wearing a long beige dress and a silver cross. The male assistants were replaced by R. E. Lee Academy graduates that looked as if they had come right out of the Victorian era.

Second, the new people were much more polite – they bowed, they curtsied, they opened doors for ladies (all ladies, even Victoria Sheshet who wasn't much of a lady). They seemed to have memorized vast swaths of different etiquette codes, and followed them to the letter – and they knew enough Quenya to greet the Allanean Queen with accents that could have belonged to Vinyatirion residents.

Third – and most important – they seemed to have been dedicated to fulfilling the Queen's every tiny whim as if it was an honor to them to do so – they've fetched things, delivered messages, and made the most excellent tea – and since one of them was the young Baronet Mathew Stossel, the tea was excellent.

Strangely enough, it seemed as if everybody was bent on concealing from Miriel the reason this happened, and in fact, people pretended that the change never took place, that there was nothing special about the fact not a single assless fursuit would be found anywhere on the premises.

All seemed normal.

Suspiciously normal, even.

“Your highness, are you certain of this?” asked the new, sensible chief of staff, who had just stepped into the Oval Office.

“I've never been so sure of anything in my life,” the Aranel responded as she rolled up a banner and tucked it into a shipping crate. Miriel moved over to the bookshelf and gathered the books there, tucking them into the same box. “This isn't my place. I've given it a lot of thought.”

“Very well, my lady...” The man paused. “Will there be anything else then?”

“See that all this gets on my ship,” she answered softly, gesturing to the boxes arranged in neat rows. “And, uh, thank you for everything.”

The man blushed, but nodded. “I... wanted to let you know. Congress is ready for you.”

Miriel nodded, and ran her hands down her robes, straightening them. Her clothes were fine, but understated; Menelmacari robes in the style favored by her great-grandmother, but far simpler in decoration, black with silver embroidery along any hems and edges. She took a last glance around the room, again empty now, save for the packed boxes and that furniture which had been there when she arrived. It crossed her mind that it was probably a good thing she had never gotten around to replacing the chair.

---

It was only a brief time later that Miriel was shown to the podium at the center of the House chamber, which was, of course, utterly packed, as befitted a joint session of Congress. The boundless thousands of Congressmen and Senators filled the room, as did almost as many members of the Allanean and international press. She knew that pretty well every eye in Allanea would be on her for the next few minutes. Pushing this unnerving thought aside for a few moments, she took a breath, and a sip from a convenient glass of water, and began to speak.

“Freemen of Allanea,

“What I’m about to say to you will probably seem insulting. It is not an insult. I know a great number of you approve of me – and I know a number almost as large think that I’m not the best person for the job. And I also know that my desire to leave you seems unbelievable, insulting, as if I think you’re not worthy of me.

“I can understand. Governments like to rule, rulers like to rule, and monarchs love to reign. Therefore, because I do not – because I have systematically scaled back my personal power, and where possible, the power of the government in general – think you worth my time.

“This is untrue. If anyone deserves just, fair, enlightened and most importantly, self rule, it is you. That reasoning is not why I wish to leave. I have never liked power. This is the reason I am not a prefect of state in Menelmacar. This is the reason my long ago military career never reached past the rank equivalent to major. And this is why I do not wish to be President of Allanea.

“I know that many of you think more highly of me than that, and think that these qualities make me well suited to this role. But in truth, it is too big for me. No one is perfect – and in my case, one of these flaws is that I do not appreciate responsibility, and also appreciate it too keenly.

“I do not have it in me to order your young men and women – no matter how willing they are – to die for me. The idea of some child dying on a distant field somewhere with my name as a battlecry, or under a banner dedicated to me, is totally anathema to me.

“The idea of killing in my name – for me – of those whose crimes, be they many or few, have never inconvenienced me, is unconscionable.

“It is for this reason that I can no longer bear the awful weight of the title of Queen of Allanea, and abdicate from it forthwith.

“It is for this reason that I cannot in good faith accept the reelection to the office of President of Allanea that you have been kind enough to grant to me.

“I hold no ill will to you. I love you all. I have tried to be a guiding light in my brief time in these offices. But I cannot be. I am a sole tongue of flame, where a blazing inferno is needed.

“You do not need a monarch. And you do not need a presidency with the powers you have given it. You pride yourselves on your individuality, a sacred gift each of you have, wondrous beyond anything I or any other leader could ever hope to give or create.

“Let that be your new light. Where before, you have shed that light diffusely. Make it a laser. The illness of Kazansky has hung a pall of gloom over many of you. Let that laser destroy it. You do not need any immortal leader to revere. Power corrupts. Power has corrupted men, it has corrupted dogs, it has corrupted demons and it has corrupted ‘gods.’

“Do not tolerate anyone leading you, let no wan torch decide your path. You are not sheep. See by your own light, decide your own path, and go down it.

“If you still wish my humble counsel, as one light from the distance, then I would suggest without aggrandizement that you seriously consider evaluating the benefits to be drawn from other societies. There are many flaws with the systems of less libertarian nations. But it is blindness to insist that there are none with the Allanean system. Consider policies of universal health care and education, and consider laying aside the horrors of nuclear arms. Consider a more responsible Congress than one beholden to the whims of polls that change minute to minute. Consider engagement with other nations in the way they themselves interact – do not abase yourselves, and do not set out to offend. But most of all, in the use of weapons, give great thought to the lives – for the most part, endowed with the same sacred individuality as your own – that may be wasted when other options would suffice to help them.

“Just because the wicked hold something to be true does not mean that it is false. Do not even the most despicable peoples acknowledge the law of gravity? In the same way, do not dismiss the thought of outsiders and the value of their ideas because of fell deeds done by some. Systems different from your own work and provide life, liberty and happiness for countless trillions of beings.

“I leave you now. Not in darkness, for my own light could never illuminate you all. All that is good about your condition and nation, the emancipation of many downtrodden beings, the love and passion and tender caresses and gross sensual gratifications, the freedom and the pride in it, the gun magazines and tea conventions, all of that is your own doing. You have done tremendous good, and you can do tremendous good. The setbacks many of you now feel and experience are waiflike shadows that you can obliterate before the next dawn.

“No, I leave you in the incalculable radiance of your own spirits.

“And if, even after this, any of you wish to remember me, I ask for no monuments, no military hardware, no holidays. Nothing so grandiose do I ask for, because the tiniest thing can be the most enduring, and the lightest platitude can be the most profound injunction: care for each other.

“Thank you, and may the Valar watch over Allanea.”

The commotion that was started by these simple, modest words, was difficult to describe, much less to explain. But eventually, it had died down, and a man has been pushed forward to speak – one of the few in the chamber that did not have his age artifically delayed, an old, wise-looking Senator from the Constitutionalist Party.

“Your Majesty – allow me to address you by your honorary title. After all, being Queen of Allanea isn't a job, it's just an honor. You have been granted by our founder, Alexander Kazansky, the title of Honorable Freeman. He knew – as now we know – that you understand, as deeply as any of us, what this nation is all about.”

“I will not ask you to remain with us, as it is pointless by now – you are a Free Allanean, as I am, and you have made up your mind. This is your right, and I would show the most rude, un-Allanean ingratitude if I try to press your opinion on the issue.”

“We cannot name ships or cities after you – after all, Fort-Miriel has been completed long before you set foot in the nation, and the SS Miriel nos Feanor is awaiting your orders in port. But, as a member of this Congress, I will ask you to keep the honorary titles we gave you – that of Queen, and – as of this moment, I suggest that the next President award you with the Congressional Medal of Freedom. If you will not accept the office, at least accept our gratitude.”

And then, the doors opened. About two hundred men in powered armor, their heads uncovered, walked into the crowd, and towards Miriel. Perhaps in some surprise, she would recognise among the some of her own staff – and others completely unfamiliar. And then they saluted her in crisp unison.

One of them spoke. “Your Highness, you know that Allanea has many different groups like ours... perhaps it'll help if you think of us as a militia, or a secret society of sorts. We have born your name as a battlecry and anthem long before we knew you would disapprove of it. We are sorry.”

“We are the private army of Field Marshal Kazansky – the Miriel Brigade. We're all that's left, really. It's our duty to the Field Marshal and Founder to aid you as he would have aided you – in small things and in great ones. And as such... there is a gift he would have wanted to give you.”

One of the men produced a long rifle case. “He knew you hunt... so, when he was in exile in Hattia, he made this for you.” - the man, physically even younger then the Field Marshal, handed Miriel the case. “It's probably way undergunned given your hunting habits, but... if you end up using it, remember Field Marshal Kazansky and the nation that he founded – the nation where we are all still grateful to you, even if you do choose to leave – as I know he would be grateful to you if he were here.”

“This is all. As the Miriel Brigade Acting Commander, I request the honor of escorting you to your craft.”

"I will consider, Senator," Miriel answered quietly as she descended from the dais. "But I will only even do that much if there's no power attached to it. I've been over why, and I continue to believe Allanea doesn't need a monarch, but I do thank you for the honor."

She continued down the aisle, shaking hands with whoever wished to do so, and she gracefully accepted the rifle case, and the offer of an escort to her ship - at least the latter would keep her from having to fight her way through a crush of adoring Allaneans and persistent reporters, and wouldn't last long anyway: if her orders had been followed, the relatively small gravitic vessel would have set down in the square outside the Capitol. Carefully, and bracketed by the soldiers, she made her way out of the chamber. It was not more than a few minutes before she was safely aboard her vessel, as it lifted off, rotating slightly as it rose, before vanishing into the clouds.

OOC: *Applause*

And so Allanean ploughed on. The new President's first speech included a promise for an early election (which he was, according to most commentators, assured to win), and, more importantly, a promise to continue all programs of the Miriel Plan – including the recruitment of one hundred more infantry divisions, the continuation of the QTRA, and the continuation of the diplomatic effort to improve relations with Tiburon 'as well as any other nation willing to negotiate with us'.

The feeling of gloom did not disspipate after Miriel's departure, and for a while, the stock market was stalled, but, after it was seen tht the new President did, in fact, follow the Miriel Plan, the economic growth resumed.

And, for the next few months, an array of presents was sent to Miriel from different organizations and people – each representing a different facet of Allanean life. There were packages of Stossel tea, there were elaborate weapons and thick, heavy books, there were even two cars – one donated by the Allanean Automobile Association, and the other by Allanean Arms – and even the deed to a small plot of land donated by the legislature of San Nereiana. Finally - arriving last, a very long time after the departure - there was a strange clasp for a cloak, made like an Allanean blue rose - made of sapphires and mithril. It had been made by Kazansky at some point or another, and in one of his short moments of lucidity, he had ordered it sent to Miriel.

With it, he sent two words only - as much as he could dictate before he, again, collapsed.

Thank you.

THE END