NationStates Jolt Archive

Sacha lay with Ludvik crumpled around him. Their flesh erupted randomly from those folds of white cloth, pale-blue and dusted with snow. Sacha’s lips were corpse colored.

Cairo had never been so cold. Cold sky, cold earth, and cold ocean.

Warmth-- like mother’s milk, like that lover’s embrace after too much time lived out at opposite ends of the earth. Warmth, like fresh blood’s warmth. It seeped over the horizon gilt with fire, that pale-blue sun now the color of once-upon-a-time gold.

Sacha awoke.

"Ludvik, wake up."

Sacha ran the back of his hand gently over Ludvik's cheek, now warm.

"Arc, please send a message to everyone on my dossier. There should be a stored file. . . I can't recall the file name though."

Arc was an AI with a cool, feminine voice which reverberated through the palace.

"File name, critical event. Location, private desktop. Send?"

"Yes, please."

"I'm sorry, the requested file path could not be activated. Troubleshooting now."

"Thank you. . ."

Ludvik smiled in sleep as Sacha traced his jaw with lithe fingers.

"I'm sorry, the requested file path is inoperable."

"Why?"

"Satellites associated with this communication path can not be activated. According to history gathered by myself, government communication satellites have been inoperable for nearly three-hundred years."

Sacha looked up from Ludvik.

Neoclassical, as was the style of the empire. White stone columns jutting up three stories into the vaulted ceiling above, a fresco depicting the obligatory greco-roman gods. Beyond the columns were gardens, resplendent with colored flowers and tropical trees. Neoclassical structures, clean, strong, loomed in the distance. Doves lay with wings splay only inches away.

Sacha strained.

"Is that an error? Nearly three-hundred years?"

"No."

Cold-hearted, emotionless artificial intelligence.

"Where am I?"

"The garden rotunda."

"What is that?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't remember what this is. I know Ludvik, and I know you, Arc. I don't know. . . What. . ."

Sacha wrapped himself around Ludvik's shoulders.

"Why are those doves dead."

"They're not dead"

"They seem dead."

"As did you."

"What?"

The two Tactical Groups that had been part of the forces that were originally destined to secure the Squall Straits, but had now been seconded to the Alconian Regent, veered due South at the Command of Tollan and Supreme Republican Commander Adan Ring. Along with them turned two of the Atlas Transports, carrying a full Division of Panthers and their equipment.

The Tactical Groups Jormund Elvers and Enver Pasha formed a defensive arc around the transports and the Orion fighters from the Tollan Carriers buzzed around the fleet like nervous bees.

"Fodmodmadtol?" Asked Admiral Idrun "Fodmodmadtol? Why are we heading there?" He asked the communications leftenant in disbelief, suspecting that he was the butt of some pratical joke.

"Pirates Admiral, apparently using Fodmodmadtol as a base with the absence of any authority, Sir. Command General Erdogan has ordered the detour. We are to secure the coast and any ports that are in a state of chaos."

He pulled the orders off the laser printer and handed them to the Admiral, who perused them and shrugged.

"Very well, all full ahead."

By the next morning the ships were in sight of the coast of the notoriously unruly, sometimes oppressive and often marginally sane lands of the United Empire of Fodmodmadtol. They were bearing down with no great speed, cautiously approaching their drwosy neighbor.

"For nearly three hundred years you've lain with Ludvik on the floor, there, as you are, as if dead."

"Oh. Why?"

Eerie, how calm Sacha could be.

"I can tell you only as much as I know, and that's severely limited."

"Well, I'd like to know what you know."

"Nearly three-hundred years ago, two-thousand and six, the Cairo electrical grid became inoperable."

"And?"

"That is all I know. I am not allowed access to outside information systems without authorization."

"Um, consider yourself authorized to perform any function deemed necessary Arc."

"Thank you. Please hold. . ."

Ludvik remained sleeping. Sacha gasped as something sputtered from behind; the doves.

". . .I have compiled a synopsis from outside sources. Shall I continue?"

"Please."

"Cairo's sector nine consumed an inexorable amount of energy to power a device not named in the sector's server. Thas is from the Cario Power Authority and Sector Nine Server, Kanotu. From this device, however, no memorable function was executed. That is from Kanotu. Following this power surge thousands of devices from across the nation recorded strange phenomenon, mostly medical and research devices. That is from The Institute of Body, Westie. May I patch through Westie?"

"Please do. . ."

"Hello."

"Westie, I'd like a summary of data recorded after the power surge incident you and Arc have been exchanging information over."

"Labs one through sixteen, research facilities designed to support life independent of the outside environment, activated emergency beacons due to study-death. No one responded. Environmentally-independent animal life died in each facility. I did not activate my own beacon as it was not my priority. However, the institute's hospital server also activated its emergency beacon due to overwhelming life-loss calls sent from devices monitoring individual patients. No one responded."

Sacha watched the doves fall over their wings before standing up. Research facilities failing is nothing new, an entire hospital failing is unacceptable.

"Were the families notified?"

"A message was sent to every family with a relative within our hospital. They were rescinded minutes ago."

"Why was that?"

"The patients believed to be dead are no longer dead. My supervisor is terminating my connection now."

Pop, click.

Ludvik awoke.

"Sacha?"

"Hey baby. . ."

Smile, soft and sweet.

Lost without the sentry, the waif was now fully awake, aware, and suddenly angry. Not even the slightest frustration would present itself when the waif talked, or in anything the waif did. Immune to anger after too many years of treachery.

It was fuel now.

"What is Sector Nine?"

"Land of Exile's."

Memories started returning now, the garden, the palace, the island, and now the exiles.

"The device, where is it."

"Sector Nine, Manor Seven."

That fuel ignited, in a contorted wretch and hallowed scream.

"NOKONA."

The Tactical Groups bore down on Fodmodmadtol, they targeted the largest port. Not yet in an attack formation Admiral Idrun stood and looked up at the screens in Fire Control that began picking out anything moving and monitoring communications.

"Comm, hail the port, see what Port Authority is in control. I know there were some reported 'terrorist' actions along this coast, but that was unreliable information, from the government of that Foddian gentleman that once addressed their parliament naked."

The Comm Leftenant nodded and opened on all naval channels. "This is Naval Guard Tactical Group Jormund Elvers, Port Authority please respond. We have reports of possible pirate activity in these waters and a general condition of lawlessness. We are here to investigate, Port Authority, please respond."

The message was repeated several time as Fire Control pored over the satellite images, selecting targets and possible landing sites for the Naval Guard Marines to set up beach heads for the Panthers.

The Tactical Groups slowed as they neared the port.

"All slow, one quarter, all stations on General Alert. Let the Panthers know to get ready, prep Colonel Vedric and his Marines." The Admirals orders were relayed.

"Huh. That's interesting."

"What?"

"Fodmodmadtol just came back on-air."

"...You can't be serious. They've been offline for... God knows how long, I'd need a history book. Special said it was... empty."

"Take a look at this. Search queries, relayed through a few of the international nodes still connected. Queries that came from inside Fod."

"...Well. There's an obvious thing to do, then."

"Call and offer assistance?"

"No. Something took Fod off the air for three hundred years. Not a peep, not a sign of life. No timefreeze, no genocides, just... everyone vanished. Now someone's back."

"And?"

"We're going to go find out what took them off the air, and take it for ourselves. For God's sake, man, can't you see? In the wrong hands, whatever caused this could wreak havoc."

"And we're not 'the wrong hands'?"

"Better than any alternative that I can think of."

"Yes, sir."

"Get me Dispatch. We need to move quickly."

Suns so strange lingered in the Klatch

All of Fod wasn't ever living in that strange enough sea, but enough of them did. A small rocky island caught between white-washed waves was home to the Klatch sector, a contingent of thousands whose only duty was vaguely defined in a government code deeply buried in red-tape:

To be Klatch.

And so they were.

And they kept their secrets, of which there were many.

"This is Razr, the Suffolk Port System server. No one is available to respond, may I be of assistance?"

Another interrupted, this one more hostile.

"You are operating in a military capacity, this information has been passed to higher authorities."

Pop, click.

"How did this happen- Who let this happen- Where is she?! FUCKING, TELL ME WHERE SHE IS."

"Sacha. . . Calm down."

Sacha glanced to Ludvik and immediately softened, almost ashamed. He knelt back down and hugged Ludvik close. Ludvik smiled.

"I'm sorry."

"You'll be fine."

"An Ilek-vaad force operating in military capacity has been identified off the coast of Suffolk, Klatch sector. Also, we have around four-hundred million incoming transmissions."

Ludvik looked curiously to the ceiling.

"Thanks Arc."

"This is Razr, the Suffolk Port System server. No one is available to respond, may I be of assistance?"

Another interrupted, this one more hostile.

"You are operating in a military capacity, this information has been passed to higher authorities."

Pop, click.


The Comm Officer looked up "Some sort of AI responding Sir.............. wait, no two.................."

Admiral Idrun nods "Put me on." The Comm Officer nods and them the Admiral addresses the apparent computer "This is Admiral Idrun of the Naval Guard of the Free Republic of Ilek-Vaad. We have noted an increase in pirate activity harming shipping lanes near here. I have been ordered to shut down any such operations and eliminate any bases that may exist on shore."

He pauses looking over the satellite feeds on the Fire Control screens "I am not seeing any Foddian naval assets? What is the situation?"

*****

Meanwhile aboard the Atlas transports the Panthers were eagerly gearing up, the transports were not the most comfortable accommodations and they are eager to get boots on ground.

General Throan Collins readied his men, pacing impatiently at the entrance top the mustering deck.

One of the Deck Bosses sat nearby and looked around "We're slowing............"

General Collins grimaced " We should be building up steam to disembark, what is the hold up?"

He was getting impatient, he didn't like ships, no matter how big they are. It made him want to shoot things.

The Deck Boss shrugged "They must have found someone to talk to."

Razr again.

"I'm sorry, no automated systems are authorized to discuss that information. Ranking officers can not be reached."

Another.

"Hello, I am Rubicon, an automated Suffolk Guard server. Having ascertained information from several automated systems it has come to my attention that you are within military capacity within Suffolk territorial waters. I advise you to immediately vacate your forces or action will be taken. Contact the Commander of the Suffolk Guard, Matthew Page, immediately. You are being supplied with communication details."

Oh, the horror of machines.

Razr again.

"I'm sorry, no automated systems are authorized to discuss that information. Ranking officers can not be reached."

Another.

"Hello, I am Rubicon, an automated Suffolk Guard server. Having ascertained information from several automated systems it has come to my attention that you are within military capacity within Suffolk territorial waters. I advise you to immediately vacate your forces or action will be taken. Contact the Commander of the Suffolk Guard, Matthew Page, immediately. You are being supplied with communication details."

Oh, the horror of machines.

Admiral Idrun looked at the Comm Officer and then responded.

"Rubicon, I am aware that I am in Suffolk Territorial waters in a military capacity, That is because there are no Foddian military assets present. Suffolk is at this time unguarded and possibly being used as an open base for piracy. I will try and contact Matthew Page, but until I have some answers we are going to proceed and secure the port facilities."

He nodded and the Comm Officer attempted to contact Matthew Page.

The Admiral returned to his seat "Resume deployments, get the Atlases in place for unloading, advise General Collins of 'Rubicon's' missive and let him decide how he will deal with it."

The Jaguar Arsenal Cruiser escorts began fanning out to secure the port, with Trident and Wolfhound submarine support, the air umbrella stayed and place and the Fire Control operators diligently watched for resistance.

The Atlas transports headed for the largest dock in view, if there were none large enough, they identified suitable areas to beach themselves.

Rocky beaches guarded by rocky crags jutting out from the white-wash. The pier was much more habitable, a concrete slag tucked away in the bay. Flashing white lights bobbing in the water marked the path. It wasn't a trading port, or military port, it was barely a port. Only one building adorning that concrete slag; a small, weathered brick building.

Automated sirens screamed across the island.

All lay still.

General Collins looked over the plan of the port that had been forwarded to him by Fire Control, he decided on a three pronged landing. Naval Marines would land by air, while one of the atlases moved to the concrete quay and another drilled up onto shore about a mile and a half down the coast.

The sloping flat from of the Atlas' (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=7648769&postcount=27) hull was heavily armoured and designed to smash through submerged dragons teeth , reefs and other obstacles. A craggy shore was nothing new to these behemoths.

All at once the Revenge Battleships (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=6792617&postcount=3) sprang to life , Marathon transports VTOL's leaped from ready decks loaded with Naval Guard Marines, the jets zipped in , hovering over the port and the Marines rappelled down zip lines into the part, on shoreward sides of any building or obstacles. They quickly moved for cover, reconnoitering the situation.

At the Quay the first Atlas pulled open and deployed it's side ramp and the engineers came off first, inspecting the structure, if it was safe the Scorpion LAV's (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=347434) began rumbling off, if not they began the task of reinforcing it.

Down the shore the other Atlas built up speed and slams itself onto the shore, quickly opening up it's nose and deploying it's main ramp, almost immediately Scorpion LAV's begin rumbling down the ramp.

Back at the quay General Collins walked down the ramp, looking over the engineers.

"Well? Lets get these men unloaded, if it's not safe for the Scorpions then I'll send the men down on foot, let's go!"

Back aboard the Battleship Jormund Elvers, Admiral Idrun continued to try and contact the elusive Mr. Matthew Page

To the North lay the Blessed Kingdom of Dyelli Beybi. Troublesome neighbour at the best of times. This was not the best of times.

Somewhere in the Blessed Kingdom

It was a bunker. There were many such bunkers in Dyelli Beybi, where men and women in field grey uniforms with blue piping met, smoked and looked at pictures or surveillance footage.

"Well isn't that nice." one man with a cigarette waved at the LCD screen they were staring at, "Ilek-Vaad is invading Fodmodmadtol."

"Are we upset about that?" someone asked, "Fodmodmadtol is a bit... odd. And their leader did rather offend us."

"On the other hand... they're a Federal State. We are duty bound to let the Federation know. And you know what Parliament will do."

This caused a period of pensive silence before one bright spark voiced what everyone else in the bunker was already thinking, "Well I mean obviously there are all kinds of things that could happen to a mail delivery."

A single siren droned across the quay. The weathered building perched by the water, a two-story brick manor, lay quiet.

Matthew twitched, curling his fingers amid disintegrating cobweb. Frost fell from his ears as he stretched backwards in his chair, which threatened to crumble beneath him with sinister creaking.

"Grim gable smith gurg burg. . ."

"Matthew?"

"Mur gom stuff ilk. . ."

"Matthew, aside from your prolonged absence we have a rather pressing matter on hand."

"B-B-B. . ."

"Bambi, sir."

"Bambi. . ."

Matthew blinked a few times, cleared his throat, tried reaching for the telephone but his arm fell short.

"An hostile military force identified as from Ilek-Vaad has landed."

"Murrr. . . Where?"

"Here."

"Oh."

Matthew grasped the desk and attempted to wrench himself upwards, failing miserably and falling to the floor.

"Are you alright, Matthew?"

"Bambi, cut that siren. I have one hell of a migraine. . . Uh. Run that program. . . That I need to run. . . I think it's dinner-bell. . ."

The siren cut.

"All personnel please report to the mess hall."

A white room. Wall projection: a flickering map, divided by grids. Sectors flicker and fill with fresh color as the satellite drifts overhead.

"The place is in suprisingly good shape, considering. Three hundred years... Do we have anyone who knows anything about them anymore?"

"As far as I know, they're all dead."

"Shall I get N-R on the line?"

"Don't bother. We'll try it our way first."

A moment of silence. A square of coastline fills in.

"What's that?"

Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. Fat, fist-sized pixels form the vague outline of a naval vessel - perhaps a carrier. The pixels shrink and jiggle a little as enhancement algorithms kick in, but there's not much to work with.

"Image is crap... Do we have a UAV in the area? No? Get me signals analysis, then. Let's see if we can pick up ground radio."

Quite a long pause. The rattle of plastic keys.

"Got something from fifteen minutes ago, sir."

A printout.

VOICE EXTRACTION ANALYSIS STANDARD MILITARY COMMS SAMPLE TAKEN SATELLITE DELTA FOUR: R.F.C.P FODMODMADTOL 21 KILOMETERS WEST 12 KILOMETERS SOUTH ESTIMATED

////...al Guard of th..//..lic..//..k-Vaad. W..//..e activity ha..//..ear here. I ha..//..own any such opera..//..ate any ba..//..t may exist..//..or..///

"Pattern matches?"

"Ilek-Vaad, sir. Naval Guard."

"Competitors?"

"Can't tell, sir. We need to get a UAV in there, see what exactly they're doing. We won't have another satellite overhead for the next nine hours."

"What kind of range are we talking here?"

"Correcting for the upwellings and additional terrain along that flight path recently... About nine, maybe ten thousand klicks. I can get a hypersonic insertion approval in about ten minutes. If you give me the go-ahead now we can have eyes there in an hour."

"How about military insertion time? How fast can we get a team in there?"

"No reliable teleport points or wormscape, sir. We can burn a Special team over there in two hours plus prep, minimum. Actual military deployment would take days, even if our Special kids can get a telepoint or wormscape path to stick."

"Well, get Special on the horn and tell them to get ready, then. After that, get our eyes in the air. And keep checking the comm lines... see if any of our old diplomatic channels are open. Archives says we pulled them out of the shit a few years before they went offline, so if this is a timeslip kind of event we should still have some goodwill on their end."

******

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

FODMODMADTOL

THIS IS A PRIORITY MESSAGE FROM KHRRCK GOVCENTRAL SPECIAL OPERATIONS DEPARTMENT

REQUEST INFORMATION AND EXPLANATION OF YOUR 300-YEAR DISAPPEARANCE AND SUDDEN REAPPEARANCE. WE ARE CONCERNED ABOUT A POSSIBLE REPEAT EVENT.

WE ARE DEPLOYING UNMANNED UAV DRONE AND SPECIAL OPERATIONS TEAM TO YOUR LOCAL LANDMASS. IF HOSTILE MANNED OR AUTOMATED RESISTANCE IS MET, APPROPRIATE PRECAUTIONS WILL BE TAKEN TO ENSURE THEIR SAFETY. OUR IFF CODE IS ATTACHED AND SHOULD STILL BE COMPATIBLE ASSUMING NO CHANGE IN YOUR STANDARD SYSTEMS.

IF WE RECEIVE NO RESPONSE WITHIN FIVE HOURS WE WILL ASSUME FODMODMADTOL IS OPERATING WITH NO GOVERNMENT OR IN A FRACTALLY COLLAPSED STATE AND WILL TAKE APPROPRIATE ACTION.

PLEASE REPLY.

"Krrr. . ."

A pretty blonde, exemplary secretary material. The pretty brunette and pretty redhead had yet to recover from their stupor. The pretty blonde was fighting it. She threw her arms at the keyboard and watched them jerk in her attempt to type.

"Khrrck. Khrrck. Khrrck."

Drool.

"Hey. . . Guy. . . Connect me to sender?"

"Emily, you're awake?" An AI.

"What?"

"The connection may take some time, it may lack optimal quality."

"Okay."

Drool.

Click. Connection attempted. Video, audio, all struggling to return to sender.

Khrrck.

OOC: This is a General Broadcast to Everyone just so you know

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

Any attempt to interfere with the interior politics of Fodmodmadtol, particularly any attempt to utilise military force without prior consent from Port Olympus will be treated as a declaration of war by the Federated Klatchian Coast.

Vaadian forces, withdraw immediately. This is the only warning that we will give. Klatch is ready to defend itself from foreign aggression.

Whatever the situation may have been regarding Fodmadmodtol, and frankly we are as confused as anyone else, it is still a Klatchian State, entitled to vote in Klatchian Parliament and is situated on land belonging to the Federated Klatchian Coast. As such it has been decided that it is within the authority of the KGN to police the area if it is revealed to be in a state of anarchy.

Regards,
Chief Constable Tudor,
Klatchian National Gendarmerie

"Arc can you connect me to The Exiles' Guard?"

"Hold on."

Ludvik sighed.

Pop. Click.

"-and you wouldn't believe it if you saw it. Everyone is just standing around frozen in place, cold skin, frost everywhere. A few people are wandering around but they're oblivious. It's me and a few guards, Wuri, Jacob and Payal. We're trying to connect to other guards but they're unresponsive-"

"Terry, calm down."

-no you don't understand, the local AI service is fucked up. Have you been outside? We can't secure the sector with everyone unresponsive. It's impossible to check everything-"

"Terry Arc is compiling a synopsis as we speak, you'll have it within minutes so please wait for that before taking any drastic action, I also recommend you sit down for it. But now I have order for you, alright?"

"-yeah yeah yeah, alright."

"Secure Nokona immediately. Top priority."

"Nokona? Manor seven?"

"Right."

"Give us five minutes."

Pop. Click.

"She's gone."

"Fuck."

CONSUL OF PEACE DECREE

All available personnel are to report to first position immediately. Due to a recent event, ordinary citizens may be confused and may pose a risk to public safety. Please direct them home and inform them that they should tune in to IRC-100 for further information.

General Collins had his orders. The message from the Klatchian Gendarmarie were tactfully ignored.

The Atlases carried out their docking procedures as the Naval Guard Marines took over the tops of seaside buildings and slowly began to move inland. The Atlas Transports began to disgorge LAV's full of heavily armed and armoured Jaguar Guardsmen.

It was all going suspiciously well. That what Naval Guard Marine Colonel Lolkema thought as his Marine team finished securing a rooftop, they then moved down into the building. Every thing was quiet, suspiciously so.

Honourless Vaadian dogs, you are in violation of the 'Accord for Peace Within The Klatchia'. Remove yourselves immediately.

Chief Constable Tudor,
Klatchian National Gendarmerie

The Reply was quick in coming:

Chief Constable Tudor,

Chief Constable Tudor the Accord For Peace Within the Klatchia applies to Vaadian forces operating in Federation territory. The Regent of The United Duchies of Alcona and Hubris has command of, and has dispatched our expedition to aid our Klatchian Neighbors in their hour of need.

I appreciate your concern and interest and will tread lightly, and act only to protect and secure Foddian interests in accordance with the wishes of The Regent.

General Throan Collins.


The Jaguar Army was going to milk their 'Seconded' status to the United Duchies for all it was worth.

"Fuck, we can't handle this. Not all of this, anyway."

"Nokona is long gone and the damage is done, forget about her for now. We have to concentrate on this foreign incursion. The data I've received is painting a rather grim portrait. . . Much worse than I expected. We have to counter immediately."

"No diplomatic channels available?"

"We have foreign cruisers parked off shore, and they've made landfall already."

"I'm going to the Duma, I have to address the nation. You're in charge of this, Ludvik. Solve it."

"Of course."

Ludvik bowed slightly to the Emperor with a small smile. The Emperor walked off down the corridor leading to the manor, talking to the AI in the walls. Ludvik whipped around and started towards the garages.

He flicked open his PDA.

"Rubicon, this is Consul Ludvik Novgol. Authorize me, code Delta Alpha Mike, one one two three five eight."

"You are authorized."

"Rubicon, activate Beta Foxtrot Echo."

"Done."

"Thank you Rubicon. Forward all communication requests directly to me."

He flicked it closed.

He looked up.

"Porsche. . . or Beamer. . ."

CONSUL OF PEACE DECREE

All available personnel are to report to first position immediately. Due to a recent event, ordinary citizens may be confused and may pose a risk to public safety. Please direct them home and inform them that they should tune in to IRC-100 for further information.


"What? Who sent it, what channel did we pick it up on?" General Collins was more and more confused by the situation " We only get some sort of computer response, and now this transmission? Isn't there anyone around to actually talk to?"

The Staff Seargent shrugged "Not as of yet sir, but the Marines and our men are moving into Suffolk proper now, we should be in contact with at least civilians?"

General Collins chuckles "You mean the confused citizenry? Great. Okay, tell everyone to take it slow and assume there are no hostiles yet. Sheesh."

His orders were relayed and the units of Panthers began crawling slowly into the city. The units dismounted and the heavy infantry moved alongside and ahead of the APC's slowly, securing every street corner and building they encountered methodically. The Naval Guard Marines hung back at the beach head, only a few Marine snipers moved up with them. The APC's turned on their blue and white flashers, giving plenty of notice where they were, they were trying not startle anyone.

The other units of Panthers that had come shore on the flanks of Suffolk likewise began moving very slowly inland, just keeping pace with the forces in the city proper.