NationStates Jolt Archive

"Brothers and sisters. I speak to you this day on urgent matters, ones that have been overlooked and grudgingly tolerated by most for some time now. During the last two years, the Brotherhood had agreed to a ceasefire. All you people of Gaeltach were tired of the violence, and in respect for our fellow brethren, we had laid down our weapons to engage the Sovereigness and her puppets in a battle of wit and words. But despite all our agreements, certain promises have not been upheld. True children of Gaeltach are persecuted in every corner of this country for voicing their opinion, but none so harshly as in the Northern Province.

"Through talks with Sean Kearny it was agreed that his henchmen would leave us in peace, and in return the Brotherhood would organize no attacks on Gaeltach's good order, a promise we have faithfully upheld.

"Through talks with Sovereigness Kelly, we had reached an agreement that her appointments for the War Office and Director of Internal Affairs would come under a vote of sorts by the Gaelic people. Despite overwhelming public favor for the Gaelic candidates, she appointed her own kin, furthering the rule and occupation of foreigners in our glorious nation.

"So I come to you today to announce that the Brotherhood will no longer remain idle in this bastardization of Gaeltach. I call on the Gaels to arise, all you Brothers within Gaeltach and outside her borders alike. The time is now. Saol gan aiféala."

A few moments of static, and the television resumed its normal broadcast. The man on the screen had been masked in a balaclava, but behind him flew the ancient flag of Gaeltach, one that hadn't flown since the Kelly line assumed power generations ago. Beside it flew the green banner of the Brotherhood of Gaels, one of many rebel bands that had been inactive for quite some time now.

Provincial Councilman Sean Kearny stared dumbly at the screen beside his command deputy. Did that really just happen? The Brotherhood had been restless lately, and some trouble was expected after Siobhan's new appointments took office, but he hadn't expected anything so... bold. And so futile.

"Mr. Kearny, Sovereigness Kelly is on the line. She wants to speak with you."

Sean sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I'll be right there. Aaron, get the Guard moving on this. I know that bastard was broadcasting from my Province. Find him, and bring him in."

Aaron Fixley, Northern Province command deputy, began making the appropriate calls without delay as Sean mentally prepared himself for the verbal abuse he was about to endure.

Driskoll Cillian sat stiffly in his alloted seat, watching the Brotherhood's broadcast silently. He had a right to be present (perk of being the Regional Commander of the Northern province), but he still had an overwhelming sense of being in over his head. In local meetings he could wipe away his uneasiness by barking orders and looking moody. He liked being moody. When he talked, people listened.

Now he was surrounded by people who had fancier titles and often forgot his name.

Sat in the chair, he kept his right hand in his jacket pocket. Inside it he gently tore to pieces a page of official-looking paper. If anyone had been paying attention to him, it would have looked like he was pissing himself. Given his red face and sweaty brow, it wasn't much of a leap of imagination.

The broadcast finished and the council looked at each other solemnly. Cillian glanced around, in case he was supposed to speak at this point. The amassed stony faces didn't suggest he did. He stayed silent and concluded he was in way over his head for the fiftieth time that minute.

One look at Cillian summed up much of how the Council felt in response to this grand gesture. They had watched the broadcast in silence, anticipating the scramble that would shortly take place in a few select government offices.

"I dunno, Dan. Do ya really think it was a good idea? I mean.. we aren't ready for it. Don't ya think a public address might invite unwanted pressure?"

"Don't ye worry yerself over that, none. We're prepared."

"Long" Dan FitzKenny was the leader of the Brotherhood. He had spent his childhood in the North, but these days travelled constantly. He was on the run, more than not. This Province was the origin and stronghold of rebellion due to it's geographic and genetic makeup, and therefore an ideal setting for the release of this latest scheme. Much of the region were descendants of O'Byrne, one of the two families sleighted by the trickery and false Kingship of the Kelly line, and sentiment still ran deep in these lonesome hills. It was the O'Byrne bloodline and its allies which prominantly made up the Brotherhood of Gaels. They were second only to the O'Neill's as the oldest family, with roots stretching far back into the mists of time.

"It's just a waiting game now." The man who chimed in was Johnny Teag, second in command to Long Dan. His stoic gaze rolled over to the regional commander in their midst. "Things will be worst for you, Driskoll, with Kearny breathing down our necks. We've arranged several new safe houses high in the heather, should you need them. I'd wager political retaliation before the end of the day. Are you ready?"

Driskoll had been scratching the side of his thumb in silence when the seniors were speaking. When he was addressed directly, he flinched and scraped off a chunk of skin. The jolt of pain further addled his panic-striken mind. His mouth attempted to form a reply, while his brain screamed We're dead.

"Well, uh... up in the North we're... uh... well, we're ready, aren't we? I mean..." He tried to regain his composure, found no sympathy in the faces surrounding him, and failed. "...that's to say, we're ready based on... what we think they'll do. If they do when we think they'll... do, then we're ready. I think."

He glanced around the room, smiled idiotically and let out a nervous giggle.

Long Dan, normally a hard man, nonetheless had an ability for compassion he chose to display from time to time. Teag looked thoroughly annoyed, and Dan suspected the two of them would have to talk later, but for now, he adopted a disarming posture and a soft tone.

"Driskoll. Breathe, man. We didn't grant you command by accident. If you can't get ahold of yerself, this is doomed to fail. Now let's go over it again."

He sat back and took a healthy belt of stout before continuing.

"We need to get a solid core of 20-25 trustworthy men in each Province before making our move. The government will bolster our ranks for us. Just wait. In the North, we've already a dependable lot, but first we need to even the playing field."

Dan paused here to narrow the commentary, and focused on Cillian's role in it.

"There's a shipment coming in tonight via rail. You're to meet the train at midnight in Treal. Your men have exactly half an hour to unload the 'medical supplies' and transport them to the arms dump. Teag's men will meet you at the dump site."

Driskoll took a deep breath, rallied his thoughts and then replied.

"If I get the men I need, we can have the crates moved and dumped in well under half an hour." He was impressed; that sounded good even to himself. "As far as our position in the North is concerned, we've got solid enough support to have us ready for nearly anything.

"Our lads will do what you need us to. Uh, sir."

"You have your own ranks to choose from. I can't get you any more than that by tonight."

Long Dan finished his drink and eyed the other men in the room almost fondly. That telltale glint was present in his gaze, and elicted something of a grin from Teag.

"It's time to pick up your weapons once again. We've done well today me boys. Brace yourselves for tomorrow. You all know what to be lookin' for. Keep me informed on the fallout."

And with that, he and Teag left through the back. In well timed intervals, the others left one by one from various entrances.

Several hours, a dozen cups of coffee, and enough Aspirin to kill a horse later, Councilman Kearny's office was abuzz with activity. The Sovereigness had not been pleased. Sean flinched inwardly remembering the conversation.

"Tell me, Sean. Why is it that yours is the only Province where we're still having this sort of trouble? The O'Byrnes and their ilk have splinter cells in nearly every county of this nation, and yet the other Provinces have the trouble contained. Pacified, I dare say."

He'd wanted to scream in frustration. The Sovereigness had brought it upon herself, but she did have a point about his ability to handle the rebels. Aaron Fixley chose precisely that moment to present his report.

"Sir. I've spoken with the Guard."

Judging by the look on Aaron's face, Sean felt another headache coming on. He sank into his chair and rubbed his temple, gesturing for his deputy to continue.

"They have no solid leads sir."

"No leads! You really expect me to believe a group of bastard rebels seized one of my broadcast stations and no one reported it?!"

Aaron was remarkably calm, given the situation. "Well this is the Northern Province, sir. But that's not quite what happened. The broadcast was taped in advance."

Sean could feel the veins in his temple pulsing, but remained quiet.

"Apparantly one of the station managers was.. er.. sympathetic to their cause and arranged for the tape to be played. It went out across all channels, and there is suggestion it may have left our borders as well. The manager in question was a Brendan O'Casey, and he's disappeared."

"Well it's not as if he's a fucking magician's rabbit gone back into the hat now is he? Find him. I want the Brotherhood's known safe houses flushed out. Get the Guard over to Dungaven. And to Ballintrae. Any whisperings of rebellion in this Province needs be snuffed out immediately."

The broadcast from the Northern province had, indeed, left the Gaelic borders. Through an intricate system of satellites, aerials and broad scanning of transmissions that "sounded interesting", the message from the Brotherhood had found its way into the hands of Dregruk's special intelligence division. In the capital, Ghastopol, officers of up to the rank of SO-19 gathered around the recorded broadcast, making notes and raising their eyebrows in overly dramatic manners.

"It would appear that the situation in Gaeltach isn't as solid as they've had us believe," Muttered a lowly SO-11, who had developed a knack for stating the absolute obvious over the years.

"Get our man in Gaeltach on the line." Ordered Lieutenant Hodges, the most senior officer present.

"Do we even have a man in Gaeltach?" Asked an SO-17, rustling through files. He made an "Ah" sound and produced a tattered brown file, dotted with coffee stains and the occasional cigarette burn on its cover. "Andrew McCallum, SO-7. Field agent, been planted in the Northern province in Gaeltach for around... eight years now. Jeeze."

He passed the file over to Lieutenant Hodges, adding, "Last report from him claimed that he had been promoted to the Regional Commander of the North. Occasionally we send him orders to remind him he's working for us. Asking him to photograph a random building in a random city."

Hodges nodded, grinning. "It seems Agent McCallum will be getting far more important orders from now on. Demand a status report from him."

Two men sat in an unmarked car near a small and seemingly run-down farmstead on the outskirts of Ballyvaughn. The tiny town was mostly a farming community, but a shrinking one at that. Gradually the families here had given up trying to coax anything out of the land, and the children left the area with increasing frequency. The farming lifestyle was dying. Historically the town had been one of the poorest in the Province, and that only served to magnify the downfall of farming, and the flight of their children in attempts to provide better lives for themselves.

Brendan O'Casey had been one of the few who remained behind to inherit his father's land. However he'd long ago ceased to work any of it, save a small garden and a few animals his wife tended. Parked near the local post office, a natural gathering place, it was one of the few spots the car could blend in and not appear out of place. From here, they had a perfect view of Mrs. O'Casey feeding the chickens, milking the cows, going about her life. Brendan would return here eventually, and if he didn't, he'd find some way to get a message to his family.

Hours later, two young lads approached the house by foot, wearing the semi-uniform of a trenchcoat and a cap pulled low over the eyes. Their faces were known enough in law-enforcement circles as suspected members of the Brotherhood. With guns drawn, the two Provincial Guards left the vehicle, ordering the two to surrender. Then men of course fled into the house and fired at the Guards, who returned the courtesy. After a brief fire-fight, the Guards had their men in custody. One was wounded, shot in the arm.

The driver keyed up a radio and issued a status report to their station.

"Two suspects in custody, one wounded. One casualty, collateral."

Although they had not captured nor found any trace of Brendan, his wife would never get the message. Stone-faced, they left her dead in the yard and made for their station, where the rebels could be properly interrogated.

The broadcast ended and Kieran sat for a moment in silence, his fingers entwined in front of him. Today was suppose to be his night. Tonight marked the fifth aniversary of the death of his brother and his wife. But it looked like tonight would hold a different fate for him. He stood up from his chair and walked to his window. He took a swallow of his scotch, then slid the window open. He walked to the wall where his rifle was mounted and set the glass down on the table under it. Then he pulled the weapon off the wall and returned to the window. He shouldered the rifle, took aim, and fired. Off in the tree line, the bullet struck a target disguised as a bird's nest. His duty done, Kieran shut the window, returned the rifle to its mount, and left his house.

The nest-target had triggered a set of underground wires that rang bells in the homes of Kieran Canavan key advisors. Those that where home also headed left and headed for the keep.