NationStates Jolt Archive

Official Message from the President of Allanea

Dear Aumanii friends!

For many years, Allanea retained good relations with the Co-Prosperity Sphere of Auman. Aumanii eat our food. Aumanii drill sergeants used to help train our troops. Figures like Balthasar Marduk and other Aumanii dignitaries are still respected and honored in the United States of Allanea – in fact, one of my personal vessels is known as the SS Balthasar Marduk. Even though there are sometimes rifts in our relationship, it is important to remember that the United States of Allanea respects the heritage of Auman as a great nation.

For indeed, the Aumanii are a great civilization. The Aumanii soldiers are valiant, and the Aumanii women are beautiful. Aumanii beer is among the best in the Known Worlds, and Aumanii blades are renowned for their quality among soldiers, hunters, and pioneers alike. The flying street-bridges of Vascilia City, her proud corporate towers and the sleek, sharp lines of your famous Gorgons are beautiful examples of what a free nation can accomplish with but the barest effort.

I have been in the past, and remain in the present, a supporter of the Aumanii nation and its endeavours. Yet it appears that, apart from ordinary trade relations, our two societies have allowed our relationship to lapse in certain respects.

This is an error. I would like to make up for it, with your permission. I would like to invite the current leadership of the Co-Prosperity Sphere to visit the United States of Allanea, where they will be given the full honors of state and witness the hospitality of Allanea's people – but more importantly, where we will discuss a renewed treaty of friendship – and perhaps, even alliance – between our two great nations.

This alliance will be composed of two parts – public and secret, and will outline cooperation between the free people of Allanea and the great nation of Auman in matters of diplomacy, security, intelligence, economics and national defense.

I will be pleased and honored to see the leadership of the Co-Prosperity Sphere in Liberty-City.

May God continue to bless your Great Nation.
And may God Continue to Bless Allanea.

Alexander Kazansky,

President of the United States of Allanea, General-Secretary of the Confederacy of Sovereign States, CEO of the Confederate Banking Company and Kazansky Heavy Industries, Sword of Liberty, Liberator of Torontonias, Count of Centreville, Chief Advisor to the Greater Prussian Throne and formerly Emperor of Greater Prussia.

Navarrone was leaning heavily on the arm of his chair. The sharp hiss inside the aircraft was punctuating the fact that he hadn't had a smoke in sixteen hours. He glanced to his right at a beautiful, blonde, middle aged woman and grimaced slightly. He started rubbing at his stubble, irritated by the woman's incessant small talk. She rubbed his thigh the way a teenaged girl does with her boyfriend at the movie theater. He rolled his eyes and swatted her hand away. He glanced at his watch and sighed, before looking down at one of Liberty City's slums.

'We are now flying over the headquarters of the Demented Schooling Corporation, built over the remains of the Pilonese Kidney'

Navarrone smiled at the latest announcement made by the co-pilot, he grinned like a Jackal. 'Rosiro may have been a jackass, but he did know what asses deserved to be kicked.' Navarrone thought with a glimmer in his eye. 'Those were the days, no real problems for anyone aside from those God damned Orcs... What the fuck did I do to deserve this...' Navarrone looked to his right, deep into the eyes of the woman who was apparently asking him a question. He didn't bother listening and simply said 'That's great.' The woman looked disappointed and started reading one of the in-flight magazines.

The plane looped over the ocean on its approach to LCAX, Liberty City's airport. Navarrone saw a giant brass gentleman waving at him. He gave him an exuberant thumbs up and closed the blinder on the portal while digging in his pocket for a pack of smokes. He put a cigarette in his mouth and was about to light it until a flight attendant tapped a no smoking sign. Navarrone glared and resented his fiscal conservatism, he refused to take government aircraft or ride in first class. A baby started to scream like a harpy and Navarrone fixed his glare on the attendant before defiantly, brazenly, lighting his cigarette. People started to complain, mostly non-Allanean liberal types, but he didn't care.

'Sheikh, you're not supposed to smoke here!' Said the woman, visibly shocked. 'I'm the military dictator of twelve billion people, for fuck sake! And who the hell made you one to talk, Ladelle?' Retorted Sheikh Navarrone, before taking a deep drag from his smoke and blowing it back into Ladelle's face.

'No smoking, sir.' Spat the frustrated flight attendant. 'Fine...' Returned the disgruntled Navarrone, butting it on his forearm. The attendant's eyes bulged, she didn't know his arm was artificial. Sheikh looked at his arm and laughed 'Don't worry, lady...' Navarrone banged his arm against the head of the chair in front of him, 'It ain't real.'

'I know who you are and I don't believe you're capable of running a shoe store, let alone a country. Jackass.' Said the attendant before storming off. Navarrone laughed even harder, thinking to himself that he'll never take public transit, of any kind, ever again.

'Please turn off all electronic devices for the duration of the flight.' The same flight attendant announced over the intercom.

'Thank God.'

----

The plane touched down at Liberty City Inter-planetary Space Port, or "Le Cocks" as Sheikh dubbed it upon reading his ticket. Upon entering the terminal, the Aumanii dictator's senses were assaulted by his surroundings. The brightly lit terminal, the shuffle of footsteps, the tingling of sleeping feet and the excited shouts of the Sheikh Navarrone fan club all contributed to his intense jet lag to leave him feeling intensely uncomfortable.

'OH MY GOD, IT'S HIM!' Shouted an overweight man with a scraggly neckbeard. Navarrone looked over the collection of assorted nerds, legitimate enthusiasts of history, mall ninjas and real gun enthusiasts. Navarrone had written a few articles for an Allanean gun magazine about Aumanii firearms and training techniques, but did so under a false name... Somehow, the fan club figured out it was him. Sheikh lit another smoke and as he was looking away he something smash only a few feet away from him. He looked towards the sound and quickly returned his glare to the crowd, which was held back by a gate manned by Allanean police officers.

'Did one of you guys just throw a beer bottle at me?!' Yelled Sheikh, unsure of what was going on.

'I WANTED YOU TO DRINK IT!' Shouted an anonymous voice. 'What the hell man, you could have just handed it to me.' Navarrone walked up to the elated crowd and the fan handed him a full beer and they drank together for a moment while the rest asked him questions and offered items for him to sign. 'Alright guys, I got to go. It was nice talking to you all.' Said Navarrone, waving to the crowd before sauntering off in search of...

OOC:

This is where Boris starts posting.

...the Allanean meeting team, which, quite likely, was far more spectacular than what Sheikh expected. Twenty-four troops, in black parade uniforms, snapped to 'shoulder arms' in unison as their officer approached Sheikh.

“GREETINGS, OVERLORD NAVARRONE, SIR! WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES, SIR!” - the 24 troops barked out in a tone that would have made even an Aumanii drill sergeant proud. The officer, in turn, saluted Navarrone.

“Welcome to Allanea, Overlord Navarrone. Here is your car.”

The car was an elongated limousine, over fifteen meters long. As the doors opened upwards, without a single sound, a handsome lady – wearing nothing but a tiny pink skirt and a matching pink tube top – was seen within.

“This is Captain Maria Robertson - “ - the officer explained - “She is with Special Operations command – but apart from being able to snap a man's neck with her bare hands, she is also... a professional entertainer, if you will.”


The woman nodded, speaking with a throaty voice. “That is correct. I am your head bodyguard, Overlord Navarrone – and I am also in charge of your escort team. I will also provide you with any... explanations and entertainment necessary as we proceed through the city. Oh, do come into the car, Overlord Navarrone. I'm a long-time fan of yours, you know...”

When Navarrone entered the car, he would discover that it packed a small fridge stacked with the most excellent Greater Prussian and Allanean beers, and even several bottles of excellent microbreweries.

“Your needs have been anticipated, Overlord,” - Maria smiled, batting her eyelids in seeming innocence as she handed Navarrone a high-quality cigar. “Here. It is from our freshly-conquered Orderite colonies. You may say what you will of the people there – but they do cut a mean leaf.”

*

As the convoy began moving, the troops loaded up into their own vehicles . As it turned out, Navarrone had in fact been given a convoy of honor – three armored fighting vehicles, painted black, with troops in parade uniforms riding on top of them in tank-desant fashion, bayonets gleaming in the light of the setting sun.

Even before the convoy moved out of LCAX, additional vehicles joined in – two tanks, several open-topped hovertrucks full of troops, and two gravitic gunships – about the equivalent of an attack helicopter, redone for the era of faster-than-light travel. The weaponry – though all practical – had not been painted in camouflage, but in black parade paint, with campaign markings and honor badges shining upon every soldier's chest and upon te turret of every vehicle. The people chosen to escort Navarrone to his destination had been decorated combat veterans, just like Navarrone himself.

The vehicles moved at incredible speeds, but Liberty-City was large, after all. As they moved on, Maria entertained Navarrone – sometimes by explaining to him the various city landmarks, like the statues of various heroes or the triumphal arches cast out of East Congarese submarines, and sometimes by waving her.. assets while pouring him more of the excellent beers.

'Oh, I see... So I suppose this one is your grandfather? He is? Impressive.' Navarrone talked with Maria in a playful fashion for the duration of the ride. Ladelle sat near the driver of the limo, arms crossed, glaring at the two of them.

'She's younger, firmer and prettier than I am. I will fucking kill that bitch.' Ladelle struggled with fearsome thoughts as they tore through the city streets. Ladelle Tradisha was 42 years old and desperately in love with Sheikh Navarrone. Through attrition she became the head master of Special Unit 2, Auman's most secretive and effective espionage unit. The similarities between the two women were only distinguishable by age, and the fact that Ladelle was batshit crazy. Navarrone was the only assignment she had failed to carry out and his ability to defeat her in combat is what drives her passion for him.

Maria leaned in to talk in Sheikh's ear.

'Who is that woman, Sheikh?' She said. Navarrone glanced over and cooly said 'No one.'

Ladelle's eyes narrowed into impossibly thin slits when she heard this. This was going to be a painful ride.

As the vehicle passed by the famous landmarks of Liberty-City, the goal of the journey became obvious. It was Minas-Faerie, the Tower of Freedom – the high-rise spire built on the very shore of Liberty-Harbor itself.

Once upon a time, the Tower had been built on the very edge of the city, but eventually, Liberty-City grew to cover almost the entire continent, enveloping Kazansky's palace from every direction. He did not mind – Allaneans favored small family homes over high-rises, so even with urban sprawl in full force, the President would be allowed a most excellent view to the city.

As Sheikh arrived, it was Maria's mission to escort him to one of the smaller dining rooms. In the room (almost a small hall), a long, white table had already been set up. At one end, Alexander Kazansky was sitting in a large, throne-like chair, his feet thrown up on the table. On the other, a similar (though a bit more modest) chair was prepared for the guest of honor, and ordinary chairs to the sides have been prepared for a variety of young Allaneans of both sexes, men and women from Kazansky's entourage and a dozen of young girls brought in to amuse the foreign guest by their very presence. At least two thirds of them have been drawn in advance from the memebership of th various Navarrone Fan Clubs that had sprung up in Allanea. From the high windows of the hall, a beautiful view opened to the Harbor, on which the sun was only beginning to set, painting the statues of the Five Founders of Allanea in gold yet once more.

“Ah, hello, Sheikh,” - grinned Kazansky, pointing to several bottles of vodka on the table. - “We've all been waiting for you to strat the party. Here, this is peisachovka – excuisite-quality vodka, invented by the Jews of Old Poland. Seventy percent alcohol, if you can believe that, and made from potatoes of all things – and yet probably one of the best vodkas of the known multiverse. You should try it before we get started.”

'If I wanted to drink nail polish, I'd drink nail polish.' Scorned Navarrone in his internal monologue. 'Sounds like a plan.' Navarrone said, ignoring his real opinion of Vodka in order to be a good guest. 'May I have a seat, Alex?' Asked the Overlord. Kazansky nodded and gave a courteous wave of the hand.

'It's good to see you haven't jumped on the wagon like everyone else in this God forsaken galaxy. King Valos hasn't had a drop since we went camping on Arcturus. Of course, the poor bastard didn't realize he was drinking Aumanii beer... He was expecting much lower alcohol percentages.' Navarrone laughed, taking up a bottle of Vodka before having a seat. He admired the bottle before cracking the lid. 'We fought a lake monster, it's how I got my new arm.' Said Navarrone.

He took a long swig of the Vodka, wiped his lips and gave a breath of satisfaction. 'Not bad, Kazansky. So, what's new in the galaxy? We've been busy.'

“In short? Madness and degradation -or creative chaos. Whatever you choose to make of it. Greater Prussia just got out of a crisis of succession, and I am not much pleased to note that someone had the bright idea of bringing in a Pantocratorian to be in charge of it all – a Pantocratorian of all things! The ESUS is a sad hive of domestic infighting and inactivity. The Mekkantans are rumored to be buildings a superstructure, conquering races left and right, and Chronosia is said to be kidnapping entire villages for their... strange needs. Happily, not in Allanea quite yet.”

“Oh, and I bought a new boat. A submarine, actually. It's called the Balthasar Marduk. I swapped out most of the missile launch platforms for more deck space, added in an indoor pool, and presto, awesome underwater yacht. There's even a small hangar for stuff like waterbikes.”

With that, Kazansky poured himself a drink and gulped it down with a single, rapid motion. “Ah, vodka. There's nothing like it if you want to get real drunk, real quick.” - the President noted, grabbing a sliver of smoked blue salmon from the table and swallowing it almost as rapidly.

Navarrone cleared his throat and pushed the bottle of vodka to the side. He looked over the participants of this meeting, noted the various fanboys and assorted, unneccessary, hangers on.

'I make 75,000 Tears of the Innocent a year. I drive an economy car to work every morning. And you are telling me about your new submarine? I paid for my own god damn ticket to come here, in coach. And you're telling me that the Chronosians are kidnapping people, poor people for sick fuck bullshit? You're telling me that I should be worried about these Mekkantans, rightfully so mind you, when you're sitting in a diamond encrusted throne drinking expensive, Jewish, Vodka? I don't even know what the fuck a Jew is. You've been showing off ever since I got here and it makes me sick, Kazansky. So let's cut the shit, get these nerds out of here and lets actually get down to business.'

Navarrone took a smoke and put it in his mouth. He looked at the pack for a moment before throwing it into the center of the table.

'This is the cheapest brand I can get. I make more than enough money to buy better as I'm a man of reasonable means. A fucking submarine named after Marduk? Are you fucking kidding me? This is insulting to me and, most of all, the families of the hundreds of thousands of his own citizens that he butchered. Marduk was a tyrant and I'm glad that I was involved in his assassination. Because clearly, you don't know a god damn thing about Aumanii history. You're jerking me off, Alexander. Fuck...'

He lit the cigarette and took a long, angry drag.

'There are some serious problems that I am starting to see with your administration. Not that you're oppressive or evil. You're callous and immature. These are terrible traits of a leader. You're living in the lap of luxury while your people live in a slum the size of a continent... Who needs a house this large? Seriously?'

Kazansky smiles benevolently. “Jerking you off? I would ask a pretty Girl Scout to do that. But as to your accusations... why, that's amusing. Not a single brick in this house is funded by the Allanean taxpayer. As a matter of fact, the Allanean taxpayer pays me not a dime of salary. True, I am wealthy – like many people, I invest, I own companies. I am a trustee of an international banking company that operates with dozens of trillions of dollars, and own another one that builds warships and cargo freighters for nations all over the world – including yours, runs airship lines, and does dozens of other things. I do not need your approval, or anybody else's for spending money that I earned myself”

“A slum the size of a continent? Our colonies are spread all over this planet, and this continent is not our only possession. Literally dozens of planetary systems are under our control outside Sol – some of them I bought off different governments with my own income and arranged for them to be colonized by the poorest of the poor, so they could improve their lot in life – and they went, and they did. But more importantly, this is not a slum – almost every person in this country enjoys a lifestyle that any reasonable man would call advanced and healthy.”


“Let me not mention here what I do with the rest ofmy money. (http://z12.invisionfree.com/Allanea/index.php?showtopic=71) Let's just say I have done some pretty nice things with it – ask the Torontonians why I am called a Liberator there, one day. Hell, I am sitting here and greeting you here – doing work for the country as it were, greeting a foreign leader – and the taxpayer ain't paying for the vodka.”

“That's not the point. The point is it's my money. The Allanean people did not buy this palace, and they did not buy this excellent vodka, I did. I don't owe them an answer on what I do with my money. That's why I helped build Allanea. That's why I was imprisoned, and tortured, for this country – in Melkorian prisons, and by Allanean traitors. Because I, and the people who worked with me over the years – we wanted a country where a person could get ahead with his labor and his ideas and his investments, and when he got ahead, he could pay for beer and trucks and hookers with his money, and nobody would care because it is his goddamn money and that he can be as callous and childish about it as he wants. Just earn your money fair and square and nobody will mind.”

“But come. I am sorry if I have offended you with this speech. Perhaps you would have... another beer?”

Navarrone held his tongue in regards to the massive conflict of interest that his ownership of multi-trillion dollar corporations represented. His installation as President-for-life was suspicious enough. Navarrone may have been the dictator of the military branch of Aumanii government, but he still had to report to a civilian government. 'I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Kazansky. The flight was a long one and I haven't slept well in several days. Let us discuss these troubling situations that you have previously mentioned.'

Then there was the fact that the Allanean and Aumanii economies only link was the Pink Bunny Burger corporation, which chain of fast food restaraunts was never very popular in the nation, what with its 0% growth and fierce competition from local franchises. 'We're familiar with the Chronosians, their behaviour is troubling if not to be expected. What about the Mekantans, I've never heard of them before.'

Then there was the problem of Kazansky's lack of humility, which offended his conservative Aumanii sensibilities. His overt and perverse sexual behaviour and his apparent attempt at offering him sex via a Special Operations officer, which he believed was merely a hired prostitute. He believed, now especially, that Allanea's tourism ministry should change the national motto to "Welcome to Allanean, here's your complimentary soda and eleven year old."

However, he figured he should try his best to at least maintain a relatively friendly relationship with the Allaneans, because the alternatives only ever got worse.

Kazansky nodded. “The Mekkantans. Evil as all get-out. They eat souls. And stars. Their routine modus operandi, if you will, is to locate a low-technology civlization between the stars, isolate it from the rest of the multiverse, and then eat everybody. Slowly. Now... as you understand, my authority is limited. I cannot declare war without the authorization of Congress, and naturally nobody is going to authorize a war against an ESUS member state. However, my... information sources throughout the Union tell me the alliance is... fragile at this moment... should it collapse, there will be nothing between us and the ravenous maws of the Mekkantans but our Navy and infantry. It's going to be a free-for-all out there. Mekkantans, Facehuggerians, Chronosians, Kanuckistani, fuck knows who else... like turning the lights out in a subway system. It's gonna get real ugly. Real fast."

'The ESUS...' Navarrone never had much respect for the alliance. Since they brawled with the Shivans, their only real accomplishment was the non-spill coffee mug. 'That alliance has been an umbrella for a gang of tyrants for a very, very, long time. The only thing that kept those lunatics from raping the stars was the very existence of the organization. The idea of the ESUS breaking down terrifies me.'

“Exactly my point, Sheikh. I've never really liked the necessities that realpolitik imposed on us regarding the ESUS – remember, the word realpolitik just means 'ignore morality for the sake of power' – but truth be told, what comes in its place may yet be worse. Which brings me to my point: we must be ready.”

Navarrone looked around the room, noting the various adornments of it. 'Of course, what is there that can really be done? Nothing really. I have next to no intelligence on these nations, except that Chronosians tend to wallpaper things in flesh. I'd think that an intelligence pact between our nations would be lopsided... And I get the feeling, given the nature of the business, our briefings would be incomplete. Out of necessity, of course. What do you suggest we do, Alex? Beyond increasing trade and the occasional joint military excersize.'

“Oh, I mean something more complex – and more advanced – than the treaties nations normally sign. Mutual military cooperation in peacetime will be very important – troops cross-training on the ships and weapons from both countries, joint contingency plans for an emergency, this sort of stuff. Furthermore, I would like to secretly invest some CSS and Ringworld Foundation funds in the Aumanii banks, to be withdrawn in the case of a national emergency in Allanea.”

Navarrone didn't have much of a problem with what Kazansky suggested. But he was a naturally suspicious man, especially when it came to Allanean motives. 'Free market is the name of the game in Auman. You're free to invest what ever you please. I am unwilling to sign any agreements until I know exactly what you mean when it comes to contigency plans, joint military excersizes and "that sort of stuff". I also assume you would like closer trade relations as well? What do you want me to do, Mr. Kazansky? This language is all very vague.'

“Very well. The first thing I would like to do is to have a mutual defense clause. But in addition, I would like us to cooperate on contructing a network of deep-space observation buoys, intel bases, and so forth, to keep up on our knowledge of our... allies. Allies, yes. Furthermore, I would like to invite, say, fifty thousand officers and drill instructors into Allanea, where they will cross-train with our troops. Finally... I would like to secretly deposit, say, forty trillion dollars over ten years with Aumanii banks. This must be done with abject and foremost secrecy.”

'Naturally, the officer exchange would be reciprocal. And your intelligence services would divulge all of the information it collects in regards to this network of listening posts.' Navarrone was the leader of Special Unit 2, he's heard some terrible things in his time and knew enough that if he was going to trust another nation with his officer corps, he'd have to take some hostages of his own as well.

"But of course. In fact, the listening post system will be jointly staffed by our men, and a joint system of information-gathering will be prepared."

'Cool. I'll think about it Alex. Anyway, I think we've talked enough for today. Perhaps we can discuss this further in later sessions. I'll just be getting my coat...' Navarrone gathered his things, preparing to leave.

And so Navarrone was taken to his hotel room – or rather, a penthouse at the Slava Hotel, on the shore of Liberty-Harbor.

The penthouse was, of course, luxurious. It featured a 'gun room'computer-controlled media center that could pump video and news from streaming-video websites to a giant wall-sized screen. Disabled, the screen became a transparent glass wall with a door in it, through which the Harbor was visible. Far off in the distance, the statues of the Five Defenders were seen, gleaming in polished brass – Miriel nos Feanor, Savior of the Nation, Cameron Blake, the Hero-Admiral, Jay August the Martyr, Emperor Ian Paisley, the first King of Allanea, and a statue of Kazansky – erected during a period when he was imprisoned and removed from power, strangely enough.

There was also a drink cabinet full of drinks, drugs, and cigars, a dozen visiting cards from endorsed escort agencies (10% off for our clients!), rental agencies and tourist agencies – and of course, there was a massive bed, equipped with gravitic and a bunch of motors enabling it to fold into various positions. There was also a special cabinet filled with condoms and various obscure toys, sprays, and oils for someone who wanted to spend a really good time.

And of course, some would argue Maria Robertson was a walking, talking opportunity for such a good time.

As Navarrone walked down the elaborately decorated halls of Kazanky’s palace, he began to contemplate the nature of the dictator. The president-for-life was a man who never matured beyond his early twenties, yet was ageless. Apparently immortal, Kazansky constantly eluded one assassination after the other, but not always. The man-child had been killed more times than any leader in all the fractal realities, as far as Navarrone could recall. Kazansky had died and been reborn in thousands of possible dimensions, killed by all colors and creeds, been resurrected and banished again from his immortal coil only to come back again. In one such reality he had been blown up by attack helicopters, shot by a dwarf kill team and even beheaded by the Aumanii Special Unit all at the same time. Whether or not Kazansky was some how attuned to the various intermingling realities that played havoc with the continuity of the known universe was unknown. Navarrone himself was familiar with the concept of fractal reality, as theorized by foreign scientists. His nation, unknown to him, had been separated from a previous existence several years before with devastating and mysterious consequences. Navarrone sauntered down the hall, putting on a, class conscious, plaid jacket. He noted several picture frames with blurred images. Some had photographs of people he recognized, some with people he had heard of and others with people he felt in his gut didn’t belong to be pictured in this universe. Kazansky stood in the stream of a river with President Mike Kowalski, a man who, by all accounts, was long dead. Alexander hadn’t aged a day since then. Navarrone grimaced and continued on until he noticed another photograph…

’What the fuck…’ Navarrone fiddled with a wide pocket on his jacket, trying to find his digital camera. He grabbed hold of the device and snapped off a few frames. A photograph featured a familiar Aumanii skyline, that of Vascilia city. Two things threw Navarrone off, the first being the geography…

’It’s got to be falsified.’ The Aumanii dictator muttered to himself. Vascilia city, the one he was familiar with anyway, was in the shadow of the northern ridge of the Balaklav range, with not a desert within two thousand kilometers. But in this picture that he was looking at, Vascilia city was surrounded by flat, red, desert and was intersected by a canal filled with black water. Smoked filled the pristine skies of Cannakalle as far as the eye could see. The second thing that made Navarrone stammer was what had been engraved in a brass plate fixed to the picture frame.

’Vascilia city, Auman, Mars… May 13th, 2885.’ Navarrone read out loud.

'What...?' Sheikh was confused, clearly.

OOC:

Sorry if I took some liberty with your character, Boris… And ignoring your previous post, I just wanted to go another way with this. But the way I see it, you play with all kinds of people who ignore one another, we play with people that ignore you and with the complicated nature of Nationstates, I figured that Kazansky would have to be some sort of time traveling, universe bridging, space mystic… If I inadvertently made Kazansky cooler or lamer, I apologize.

"Sheikh?" - Maria approached him, looking concerned - "Is something wrong?"

Navarrone caught a glance of Maria over his shoulder. He was still caught up in what he was looking at. 'What is this, Maria?' Asked Navarrone.

"It is a photograph... taken in Vascilia City, on Mars. Surely you remember that."