NationStates Jolt Archive

The MadderMikian Silencer class submarine enters the North Atlantic. The crew is a mixture of aging, retired mercenary submariners from across the region mixed with young, eager, green MadderMikians. The Captain is Mike Paul Jones highly respected MadderMikian. The XO, Navigator and Engineer is Ret. ADM Cook from Manarth.
Radioman "Captain, we have a FLASH message from Central Command."
CAPT Jones "Have you decoded it?"
Radioman "Yessir, it reads Operation: No Blubber - Commences What does that mean?"
CAPT Jones "I was afraid of this, the Prime Minister Mike Oldsmobile has a new consort and she is an idealistic 22 year old. She has been complaining about whaling and wants the Prime Minister to do something about it. This No Blubber intent is to sink a whaler to bring world-wide attention to the problem."


OOC: The purpose of this thread is submarine/ASW warfare leading to negotiations. I am looking for a small 200 to 400 million pop nation, to chase me about. I have one Silencer class submarine look here: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=118505&highlight= Scroll down. One or two nations, one or two battle fleets of 2-5 FFGs 2-3 DD (Spruance) 1-2 DDG Ticonderoga, maybe a carrier, if a carrier then one SSN, land based P3 Orions or if a carrier - Vikings. Modern Tech. Oh yeah you have to have at least one whaler.

OOC: The focus of this thread is changing, thus the rename: LETI/LOTI nations are automatically invited others, ask.

Main Teepee International News
Chief Howling Wolf announced the recent commissioning of the ICOS Great Spirit a mighty whaling vessel. Chief Howling Wolf went on to say whale hunting is a right granted to the Adirondack Bark Eater Tribe by the Great Spirit himself. This is the way of our people for 20,000 years and it will be the way of our people for the next 20,000 years. In his words "Our braves test their manhood via the hunt, our squaws by preparing for the Spring Equinox, carving the whale on the ice floes of the Arctic Ocean." The Adirondack Bark Eater Tribe holds a traditional feast on the Spring Equinox of whale blubber and buffalo killed by spears.

The big submarine was cruising easily beneath the waves. The ship was rigged for red. The Captain, Mike Paul Jones, was one of those sub COs that liked to rig for red at night and white light during the day. He felt it gave a sense of routine to the crew. Sonar was tracking some faint contacts probably biological in nature. The towed array was out and the XO was having the crew practice "Clearing the Baffles" checking to see if anyone was following them. He was using long sweeping ess curves to check behind him. He turned the Con over to the young LT, Mike McDonald and went to visit the Captain in his cabin.
XO "Captain we aren't really going to sink a whaler are we?"
Capt "We have to do something to get the Prime Minister off our backs. He has a spy of sorts onboard. His sister's, cousin's, son is that 3rd class sonarman. You know the redhead, the only one with promise. Don't fret we will think of something to mitigate this mess."
With that the captain poured each a tumbler of the finest of Council of Clans single malt whiskey.

The Indian Casino Operator whaling vessel the ICOS Great Spirit enters the boundary area between the North Atlantic and the Arctic Oceans. It begins the search for whales. The entire warship force of Indian Casino Operator; 2 Spruance class destroyers and 2 Perry class frigates spread out in the general area. The AOE Sacromento class replenishment ship is in the Main harbor of Indian Casino Operator stocking up on fuel, supplies, ammo, and foodstuffs. It will join the fleet soon. If everything is timed right the one supply ship should be able to shuttle back and forth keeping the mighty navy afloat as long as necessary to protect the whaling industry.

OOC: While Nimzonia is only a small nation, it is located in the North Atlantic (compare to iceland), and whale hunting, particularly of pilot whales, is a big industry. Though we haven't got the resources to chase you around the north atlantic, we'd be likely to join in any outcry over the sinking of a whaler. Mind if I join in? :)

OOC: While Nimzonia is only a small nation, it is located in the North Atlantic (compare to iceland), and whale hunting, particularly of pilot whales, is a big industry. Though we haven't got the resources to chase you around the north atlantic, we'd be likely to join in any outcry over the sinking of a whaler. Mind if I join in? :)

OOC: Absolutely, join in we'll see where it goes.

IC: The MadderMikian Silencer class submarine the MMS New Ohio comes up to 100 feet. ADM Cook "Sonar any new contacts?"
Sonar "I have two different biologics and there is one contact that has just changed course to intercept one of the bios."

CAPT Jones "LT put us on an intercept course."
LT McDonald "Aye Sir, Come right to 090"
Helm "Come right to 090"
...
Helm "Heading 090 sir"
LT McDonald "Very Well"

Nimzonia Network News (NNN) broadcast:

In the Republic today, port towns were preparing for the whaling season. Though disheartened that recent legislation has reduced the hunting season from nine to six months, whalers were nonetheless getting into the spirit of things today, relaying tales and anecdotes of previous seasons in waterfront pubs across the southern seaboard. Pilot whales and Minke whales are expected to be the main targets of our whalers this year, after the beluga whale was put on the endangered list.

Despite the legislation reducing the length of the whaling season, animal rights activists are still unhappy with the state of affairs, and coastguard and naval units will be on the lookout for potential trouble-makers.

"We'll mostly be patrolling off the southern and eastern shore, where most of the major whaling ports are." Commodore Olaf Jakobsson, in charge of security for the whaling season, told Triple-N "Keeping an eye out for activists who may be trying to disrupt whaling operations, by ramming whalers or boarding them and damaging their equipment. We'll also be making sure that the whalers themselves are following government guidelines; this season the Beluga whale has been declared off-limits, until populations have recovered, so we'll be making sure no vessels are illegally hunting belugas."

A total of eighteen activists were arrested during last year's season, of which twelve were foreign nationals.

The ICOS Great Spirit is in search of whales. One of the crew members, Bald Mangy Dog, is complaining to his brother Deer With Broken Leg.
BMD "Why are we up in this freezing ocean looking for some big fish?"
DWBL "We are going to become Braves, my little brother, if we can keep this rust bucket afloat long enough."
BMD "Chief Howling Wolf always buys the cheap stuff. For a few stinking wooden nickels more he could have gotten a new ship."
From the top of the mast comes a cry "Thar she blows!"
BMD "Well here we go, hunting an innocent whale with a harpoon cannon and dragging it back to the ship to be carved into McBlubber sandwitches."
DWBL "Oh that is where you are wrong little brother. We hunt the old fashioned way with spears, row boats and bravado."
BMD "WHAT!"
DWBL "Into the boat lad we've got whales to catch."

CAPT Jones "LT McDonald bring us up to periscope depth"
LT McDonald "Aye sir, bring us to periscope depth. Diving officer bring us to 60 feet."
Diving Officer "Depth 60 feet aye, sir."
...
Diving Officer "Depth is 60 feet sir"
LT McDonald "Very Well"
CAPT Jones "Up scope"
The CAPT makes a 360 degree sweep switches to high power and captures the whaling vessel on video. He orders the scope down and he and ADM (ret) Cook view the scene shot through the scope.
CAPT Jones "It looks like they are whaling all right. What flag is that? ADM (ret) Cook " It is the Slot Machine flag of the Indian Casino Operator."
CAPT Jones "What are they doin?"
ADM (ret) Cook "I think they are going to go whaling the old fashioned way with long boats and hand thrown harpoons."
CAPT Jones "The ship is a rust bucket its a wonder its still afloat."
Sonar "CAPT I have four contacts about 20 miles out."
CAPT Jones "Do you have a make on them?
Sonar "Not yet but at least one of them is military, early indications are a Perry class Frigate."
CAPT Jones "Operation No Blubber only says to stop the whaling it doesn't say sink the ship. Load an exercise torpedo in tube one."
LT McDonald gives the command to the torpedo room and the sounds of a torpedo being loaded are heard in the forward parts of the submarine.

The Nimzonian Gunboat RNS Calm Horizons, on patrol in the North Atlantic, near the eastern limit of Nimzonian territorial waters:

Captain Thorstvedt took the binoculars offered by the midshipman, and peered towards the horizon, where a small dark shape was barely visible against the harsh blue of the atlantic.

"I see it." he confirmed, "But I can't make out the flag. Doesn't look too big; if it's Greenpeace come to chain themselves to our anchors, I think we should be able to handle them."

"Course change, sir?" the midshipman enquired enthusiastically, eager to see some action.

"No, hold position here." Thorstvedt ordered calmly, passing the binoculars back, "They're still in international waters. We'll keep an eye on them from here."

CAPT Jones "Set the exercise torpedo to run just under the surface this is a small target. Do we have a firing solution?"
LT McDonald "Aye sir but it would be better if you did one last periscope check."
CAPT Jones "No, we have to learn how to do this completely subsurface."
LT McDonald "We have a good solution sir"
CAPT Jones "Launch torpedo from torpedo tube one"
LT McDonald "Launching torpedo from torpedo tube one."
With a blast of air the torpedo is shot out of the tube and comes to life.
Sonar "Live torpedo! moving away from us. another small craft about 4 miles out bearing 270 relative.

LT McDonald "Very well"
....
After a short period of time sonar reports a metallic clank.
CAPT Jones "Up scope"
Capt Jones does a quick 360 and then homes in on the whaling vessel. He records the activity and then turns to 270 relative and spots what seems to be a coastal patrol craft. He turns to LT McDonald and says dive, take us to 325 feet and take us away from the whaling vessel. Increase speed to full make sure we don't cavitate.

The Nimzonian Whaler Drunken Viking is conducting its whaling operations in international waters.

The captain, or rather, patriarch of the family-crewed vessel Drunken Viking had also spotted the ICO whaler out at sea. He peered through his rusty old telescope, while simultaneously puffing on his pipe.

"Hmmm... 'tis a mighty humpback whale those indians are going after!"

"A humpback?" mused the next most senior member, the captain's younger brother, "Don't get too many of them up here... Not since McDonalds came to Nimzonia."

"Hah!" the captain exclaimed, "They're going after it in rowing boats! The crazies! Step on the gas, Sven - We'll take that catch off them, no problem! We'll be the toast of Neumenholm!"

"Aye aye!" came the junior whaler's assent, and the engines sputtered into life, sending the Drunken Viking on its way to intercept the humpback.

-----

On the bridge of the RNS Calm Horizons, captain Thorstvedt had a troubled expression, as he peered through his binoculars.

"Now what are they up to?" he asked, to nobody in particular, as he watched the Nimzonian whaler head off towards the horizon. He let out a sigh. "We'd best keep an eye on them. Helmsman, new heading, bearing 230 relative."

The small gunship turned, to shadow the Drunken Viking. Things were about to get interesting in the North Atlantic...

On the ICOS Great Spirit a huge torpedo slams into the side of the whaler. The rust thinned hull does little to stop its onrush and the exercise topedo penetrates four feet into the main freezer hold. It starts to fill up quickly. The captain runs to the hold and spots the torpedo, the gushing sea water and tells the radioman to send out an SOS. He then calls abandon ship as the little vessel starts to list badly to port. Bald Mangy Dog had just harpooned a humpback whale and was getting ready for the ride of his life when he looked back at the ICOS Great Spirit and noticed it listing severly to port.

The Drunken Viking skimmed across the surface of the freezing waters, heading for the sighted Humpback. The captain's brother set his eyes on the target, as he manned the harpoon cannon on the ship's bow.

"What the..." muttered the captain, still peering through his telescope, "They're sinking! Not surprising, by the look of it; that ship's seen more winters than Barbra Streisand!"

"We'd better go help them, then!" called Sven, from the helm.

"What, and lose the catch of a life time?" said the captain's brother, incredulously, "No way! That beauty's ours! If they're still afloat once we've got that baby onboard, then we'll pick them up!"

The Drunken Viking continued to bear down on the lumbering whale.

----

The RNS Calm Horizons was also heading towards the scene.

"Sir!" came a shout from the communications officer, "I'm picking up an SOS, from an Indian Casino Operator whaling vessel!"

"Aye," said captain Thorstvedt, watching the listing Great Spirit through his binoculars, "I can see for myself. I don't know what our boys are up to, but if they're responsible for that ICO ship going down, there'll be hell to pay!"

"Orders?" came a junior officer's voice.

"Set a course to intercept; we'll set about pulling them out the water now - we can clean up the mess later."

The ICOS Fleet enroute to the contested area receives the SOS.
Comodore Angry Coyote signals the fleet to proceed to the sinking vessel at flank speed. The ICOS Wolf Spruance class destroyer (Flagship) and the ICOS Bear Spruance class destroyer set all four gas turbines on full power the ships surge ahead. The ICOS Hawk Perry frigate and the ICOS Falcon Perry frigate respond in kind with the two gas turbine engines and the variable pitch props jump to flank speed with their characteristic list. Comodore Angry Coyote sends a signal to stop all active sonar, it is useless at this speed and he doesn't want to kill anyone in the water.

Meanwhile the line to the humpback whale was played out. Luckily Bald Mangy Dog had tied it off to the post in the front of the little skiff. The skiff took off like a dragster. Bald Mangy Dog was on a Nantucket Sleigh Ride.

Hey im a bit late seing this topic. im up for being a sorta middle guy i dont realy whale but if you want i can make an exception what do you say?

Hey im a bit late seing this topic. im up for being a sorta middle guy i dont realy whale but if you want i can make an exception what do you say?

OOC: If it is alright with Nimzonia maybe you could come in as a Greenpeace (Looking at your nation name) He and the Indians could both harrass you, put more spice into the mix.

OOC: All okay with me.

The Drunken Viking closed in on the fleeing humpback whale. The captain puffed on his pipe, watching the antics of Bald Mangy Dog, "Huh... He's got it... but I don't know what he thinks he's going to do when it stops, now that his ship's going down. We'd be doing him a favour to take it off him!"

The Nimzonian whaler came up alongside the indian skiff, engines at full power to keep up with the whale.

"Hold her steady, Sven!" barked the captain, before turning back to his brother on the harpoon cannon, "Fire!"

There was a crack of released gas, and a harpoon hurtled out into the whale, lodging in the great creature's blubbery flesh. Now it was towing two boats. Chuckling to himself, the captain tilted his hat to Bald Mangy Dog, and took a swig from his whiskey flask. Nobody onboard was paying attention to the military vessels converging on the scene.

-----

The RNS Calm Horizons slowed as it approached the distressed Great Spirit.

"Get ready to pull them onboard" ordered captain Thorstvedt, "They'll only have a few minutes in these cold waters, before they get in trouble."

"Sir!" called the radar operator, "Picking up a group of military vessels, ICO frigates and destroyers."

Thorstvedt nodded, "Tell them we're offering assistance, if required."

"Indian Casino Operator fleet, this is RNS Calm Horizons. We are receiving an SOS from an ICO whaling vessel, and are standing by to assist."

From: Commodore Angry Coyote ICOS Wolf
To: RNS Calm Horizons
Subj: Rescue assistance
Assistance welcomed, survivability extremely short in these waters. Will transfer all ICOS citizens after rescue operations complete. The tribe thanks you for your assistance.
COMO Coyote

"Quickly!" shouted captain Thorstvedt over the clamour on deck, as the RNS Calm Horizons' marine section deployed their boats from the gunship's stern. "You only have minutes!"

"Captain!" called a junior officer, "A Sea Hawk helicopter is being diverted from patrol, to help locate survivors."

captain Thorstvedt nodded, but was already alerted to the Sea Hawk's arrival by the clatter of rotors somewhere overhead. The stutter of speedboat engines from below indicated that the rescue teams were on their way.

"Right, let's get this mess cleaned up."

The ICOS Wolf and ICOSBear each launch SH 60 Seahawk Helicopters to bring in as many survivors as possible. The ICOS Hawk Moves towards the Drunken Viking the CO, Commander Sly Wolverine spots the little skiff with Bald Mangy Dog attached to the humpback whale that is attached to the Drunken Viking CDR Sly Wolverine hasn't had whale blubber in years. It looks like Bald Mangy Dog is owed a mighty fine chunk of that whale. There will be an early Equinox celebration aboard the ICOS Hawk. He hails the captain of the Drunken Viking staking his claim to 1/4 of the whale based upon Bald Mangy Dog's harpoon.

-Double post-

On the Drunken Viking, the captain's jaw dropped as he saw the ICO warship cruising alongside them, causing him to loose his pipe overboard.

"I told you guys this was a bad idea!" wailed a junior member of the crew, "They've got big friends!"

"Shut up!" snapped the captain, "Prepare to get us the hell out of here!"

"Wait," came the voice of Beardy Bjorn, the radio operator, "They're saying they want to claim a quarter of the whale."

"What?" said the captain, glancing back at the warship for a moment, "They're letting us keep three quarters of it? What are you waiting for - say yes!"

"Huh." muttered the captain's brother, at the harpoon cannon, "Still think we'll be the toast of Neumenholm with three quarters of a humpback?"

-----

Captain Thorstvedt watched with satisfaction, as the marines helped ICO survivors out of the water, and into the boats. The Seahawks hovered overhead, ensuring that survivors were quickly located and pulled out of the chilly sea.

"Commodore Jakobsson wants an update, captain." the radioman called from his station, "He wants to know why the whaler sank, and if there's a threat to our own shipping."

"Hmmm..." captain Thorstvedt watched the rapidly submerging Great Spirit for a moment, "It looks like it just wasn't seaworthy. Tell the Commodore I'll have more information once all the survivors are picked up."

Onboard the ICOS Hawk Bald Mangy Dog is hauled aboard and all hands not on watch or duty begin rigging a makshift crane and reel their quarter of the whale aboard. Young braves can be seen mule hauling huge chunks of blubber down to the reefers. Each brave can be seen with a silly grin and a slab of raw blubber hanging out of his mouth. This is the finest feast that can be delivered to the tribesmen.
After all of the survivors have been accounted for and the transfers between the RNS Calm Horizons and the ICOS Wolf Commodore Angry Coyote sends the helicopters to the Hawk to redistribute the blubber so each ship gets a share.
Commodore Angry Coyote sits down in the flag mess and invites the captain of the Great Spirit in to share some blubber. Angry Coyote was about to lecture the captain about keeping his ship in fine sailing order when the captain of the Great Spirit tells him about the torpedo.
"WHAT!" Angry Coyote lives up to his name and starts throwing things at the poor steward. "Did you see any markings on the torpedo?" He asked.
The captain replied "Yes sir, it said Exercise Torpedo - Property of MadderMike- Return for $100 Reward..

From: Captain Hofmar Thorstvedt, RNS Calm Horizons
To: Commodore Angry Coyote ICOS Wolf
Subj: Sinking

We request information regarding the causes of the sinking of Indian Casino Operator whaling vessel. We wish to ascertain if there is a threat to Nimzonian shipping.

CAPT Thorstvedt.

Commodore Angry Coyote calms down a bit and tells the signalman to signal CAPT Thorstvedt of the RNS Calm Horizons via flashing light. He says "Send this: IOCS Great Spirit appears to have been sunk by an exercise torpedo fired from unknown vessel (break) Possible submarine (break) Early indications are it was from MadderMike (break) Suggest you clear the area ASAP (break) It is our intention to hunt this dog down and get an explanation (break) Commodore Coyote (end transmission)

Captain Thorstvedt read the paper handed to him by the signalman, with a grave expression on his face.

"A torpedo... Encrypt this and relay it to Commodore Jakobsson. Now, let's get the hell out of here! new bearing 170 relative!"

The gunship turned, and began to cruise back towards Nimzonian territorial waters.

-----

Around half an hour later, a Nimzonian Seahawk helicopter, with signalling module fitted, approached the ICO fleet, and began transmitting a response via flashing light.

From Commodore Olaf Jakobsson, RNS Republic (break)
To Commodore Angry Coyote ICOS Wolf (break)
We wish to aid in neutralising hostile submarine operating close to Nimzonian waters (break) Naval and air force units ready to deploy (break) Do you comply? (message end)

ICOS Wolf replies via flashing light "All assistance is welcomed (break) coordinate with ICOS Wolf (break) Wolf and Bear will be using trailing wire in addition to hull mounted sonar (break) radio frequencies for coordination are as follows ......(break) Standard battle spread (break) you take position number five (break) We are going active now (break) standard signal flag protocol (break) (end transmission)

The battle fleet spreads out and the four ICOS ships begin active sonar pinging. A seahawk from each Destroyer flies out in front of the fleet. Commodore Angry Coyote signals on the command frequency If this is MadderMike then those cowards are probably headed to the St Lawrence Seaway. Push the choppers out in that direction. Load MK37 torpedoes into the standby choppers"

The crew of the MadderMikian Silencer class submarine Schizophrenia are congratulating themselves for stopping the whaling without killing anyone, when sonar exclaims in a loud voice "Active sonar, four of them."
Capt Jones "Dive take her to 400 feet and as soon as we get there flank speed. Where are the layers?"
Sonar reports "Two layers a weak one at 350 feet and a strong one at 150."

OOC: Mind if I join in, I'm not a sea nation but will be using other assets. Plus I will join the sub in hunting whalers.

The Type 22 Broadsword class frigate RNS Republic moved out from its patrol route, to take up position in the battle spread. Having tested the frequencies successfuly, Commodore Jakobsson contacted the ICOS Wolf with further information.

"Frigates Republic and Vigilant, as well as Destroyers Tempest, Riptide and Tundra moving into position on your flank. Five P-3C Orion anti-submarine warfare aircraft will also be assissting. Submarines Valnir and Naajir recalled from exercises in the Labrador Sea, will attempt to intercept."

Jakobsson watched a pair of Seahawk helicopters cruise past, to take vanguard positions ahead of the fleet, as the Nimzonian task force lit up their sonar. The hunt was on.

OOC: Mind if I join in, I'm not a sea nation but will be using other assets. Plus I will join the sub in hunting whalers.

OOC: How will you have a presence in the North Atlantic, with no sea assets?

OOC: EB-52 Megafortress', has strategic range and is more stealthy then the B-2. It can flit in and out between refuels and rearms.

OOC: Mind if I join in, I'm not a sea nation but will be using other assets. Plus I will join the sub in hunting whalers.

OOC: Thanks for asking, this is really a sea battle the whalers were just the set up. There are two other invites out so we are pretty full. We wanted to keep this small enough to manage. Keep a look out I'm sure there will be more.

IC: Capt Jones of the MMS Schizophrenia ponders his plight. The Indians are going to think we're headed for the St Lawrence. If we go north we might get under the ice cap it is still far reaching now. We may be able to catch an ice floe. What to do.

On the coordinating frequency Commodore Angry Wolf welcomes the additional resources. He recommends Commodore Jakobsson take his flagship and two of the Nimzonian destroyers and one of her frigates and we will attach the ICOS Hawk to coordinate between our fleets. Head north in case the submarine tries to hide in the ice cap. Commodore Jakobsson will command the second task force. Rules of engagement: To force these cowards into the open and apologize. If fired upon take all necessary actions to defend yourselves. Spread the P3s out to get the maximum coverage.


OOC: what type of subs are the Valnir and Naajir?

Commodore Jakobsson signalled his assent to Commodore Coyote, and relayed instructions to the task force.

RNS Republic, RNS Riptide, RNS Tundra, and ICOS Hawk will head north, with two P-3Cs. The RNS Vigilant and RNS Tempest, and the remaining P-3Cs will assist Commodore Coyote in the atlantic. RNS Valnir and RNS Naajir will head south and attempt to reach the St Lawrence Seaway before the enemy.

OOC: Naajir and Valnir are Narhvalen class light patrol submarines. Commissioned in the early 70s, and upgraded in 1992 with more modern sensors, weaponry and fire control. They are reaching the end of their operational lifespan, and will probably be replaced within the next 5 years. They displace 450-500 tons, have a top submerged speed of 18 knots, and have 8 21-inch torpedo tubes.

Capt Jones decides to first go north, he knows the Indians are brave and expect everyone else to be less courageous. They will be looking for him to head for cover.
Sonar "More active sonars sir and we are picking up possible submarines from the active echos."
Capt Jones "Crap (or words to that effect), we are about as deep as we can go with all of these hangers and air lock systems. Engineering what is our status."
ADM (ret) Cook acting Engineer pushes LTJG Mike Rickover forward and says "Tell him, give him a full report. You can't rely on my being here forever."
LTJG Rickover "We are running at 75% capacity we are at flank speed about 21.5 knots. The reactor numbers are all within specs. We have only 20 days of water chemicals left."
Capt Jones "WHAT! why the short supply of chemicals?"
LTJG Rickover "Sir, when we last went into refit we only loaded food and whiskey and a few spare parts."

Commodore Angry Coyote sends the Nimzonian P3s out in front of his task force. The helicopters are stationed between the P3s and the task force. Commodore Angry Coyote positions the RNS Vigilant in the center and has her remain passive only. The ICOS Falcon signals possible submarine contact bearing 000 approximately 40 miles out, very weak signal the sonar signal is being bent many times. Commodore Angry Coyote sends the possible location to Commodore Jakobsson, His task force is closer. Commodore Angry Coyote sends the backup helo from the ICOS Wolf out to investigate. The P3s are dropping sonobouys the helos are using "dippers" ICOS Wolf and RNS Vigilant are running passive. Commodore Angry Coyote asks if RNS Vigilant has trailing wire to be more sensitive.

OOC: I'm getting confused as to whether I'm dealing with Commodore Coyote or Commodore Wolf... :wink:

The captain of the RNS Vigilant responded, negative, the Vigilant doesn't. However, the Nimzonian destroyers have recently been fitted with trailing wire, and the RNS Tempest could take Vigilant's place in the centre.

Commodore Jakobsson acknowledges, and has the two destroyers attached to his squadron move ahead on the flank, deploying their trailing wire antennae. He also sends the RNS Republic's Lynx helicopter, armed with depth charges, ahead to investigate the possible contact.

RNS Valnir and Naajir are also detecting faint echoes that could possibly be a submarine. They divert from their course towards the St Lawrence Seaway, and attempt to get into a position south of the contact, to close down its possible escape routes. The two small crews go to battle stations, should the enemy sub try to fight its way out.

OOC: It took me 12 tries to get that posted and I still hosed it. :oops:

IC:Commodore Angry Coyote on the ICOS Wolf agrees to the switch in position of the RNS Vigilant and the RNS Tempest. Commodore Angry Coyote examines the latest satellite weather reports and sends a message to Commodore Jakobsson [code:1:f8ca996dc9]The edge of the ice pack is about 150 miles North-North-West of your position if your P3s have enough fuel send them to the edge of the pack and work back to your task force. I am closing any southern escape route. We will snare this coward in our trap![/code:1:f8ca996dc9]

Commodore Angry Coyote spreads his task force out wider and shuttles all of the Indian Casino Operator helos back to their ships to make sure they are full of fuel. He sends messages to the RNS Vigilant and the RNS Tempest to do the same.

Commodore Jakobsson reviewed the current situation, and responded:

[code:1:66fcff2def]Confirmed, P3s have fuel for a couple of hours yet, and are easily in range of Sentry Isle air bases. Be advised that Valnir and Naajir are closing from the south-west.[/code:1:66fcff2def]

Jakobsson watched one of the P3s drone past overhead, heading for the edge of the ice, and took a cigar from his pocket. He placed it in the corner of his mouth, and turned the silver lighter over in his hand. They're not caught yet.. He put the lighter back in his pocket, and proceeded to stand behind the sonar-operator's shoulder, more to make sure the officer wasn't becoming careless, than anything else. Only a matter of time...

Capt Jones confers with ADM(ret) Cook. "The ice pack is about 7 1/2 hours away. If they are smart they will send the P3s up there to ambush us."
ADM Cook "Lets look at the facts 1. We apparently sunk a whaler with an exercise torpedo, we can always claim they wandered into our exercise area. 2. It seems as if we have two nations chasing us. That is the only way those P3s could have gotten here. 3. By the sonar signals there are two task forces after us and possibly two submarines. 4. If they continue with the active sonar they are restricted to about 12 knots. We can out run them. "
ADM Cook thinks some more and suggests "I think we make it look like we are heading for the ice and make a sweeping turn to the east and go as deep as we dare. Things are going to get confusing for the surface ships as they are about 30 nautical miles apart at the edges of the two forces. The sonar signals will bend in the deep ocean and reappear at the surface and reflect off the surface and surface ships. Some of the signal returns some goes further out. If we make our turn then they won't notice. Then the only problem is the two subs. If they are diesel electric we can out run them. "
Capt Jones "Lets do it."

Petty Officer 1st Class Snarling Lynx is observing data comming in to his sonar display on the ICOS Bear's Seahawk. His brother Lazy Seal was on the ICOS Great Spirit. He wants revenge. He spots what appears to be a submarine contact moving south-south-east. Without a command order and without loading search orders to the torpedo he overrides all safety interrupts and launches a MK37 homing torpedo.

Commodore Angry Coyote gets the message from the command center that ICOS Bear's number two Seahawk has launched a torpedo. He is steaming, angry, and red faced. He calls the helo back and sends a flash message back to Chief Howling Wolf explaining what has happend and that the MadderMike sub would be within its rights to consider this an act of war. He copies Commodore Jakobsson on the message.

When the helo lands, Commodore Angry Coyote throws Petty Officer 1st Class Snarling Lynx in the brig.

Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia sonar shouts out "Torpedo in the water."
Capt Jones "Where, what heading, how deep."
Sonar "Bearing 340 true."
Capt Jones "I need the rest NOW!"
Sonar "Working on it sir."
Capt Jones "Come right to 100."
--------------
Sonar "Torpedo 1 is at 60 feet and holding, it is moving on a course of 013."
---------------
Sonar "Torpedo 1 is active and moving fast. It is moving on a course of 350.
Capt Jones "It must have picked up a surface ship. I think they shot at themselves. Whoever shot that didn't have a clue, it should have dropped down here and started searching. Plus it was too far away. If they shoot again we will shoot back if necessary."

The RNS Tempest, in the centre of the task force, had finished deploying its trailing wire.

The mood on the bridge was fairly calm.

There was a call from the sonar operator, "New contact, bearing..." the report was abruptly interrupted by a new one - the bridge exploded into a flurry of activity:

"TORPEDO, TORPEDO, TORPEDO!"

"Hard Right Rudder!"

"All hands brace for impact!"

The officers on the bridge threw themselves flat against their stations, as an explosion sounded, and the deck heaved upwards, scattering pens, unattended caps and papers, and the captain's coffee mug. There was a second shudder through the ship, as it crashed back against the surface of the ocean, and then began to list, ominous creaking sounds coming from abaft.

"Report!" the captain clambered back to his feet, ignoring the fresh coffee stain on his white turtleneck.

After a moment, came the reply, "Alpha Torpedo, hit amidships, no more contacts... We're taking on water!"

The ship lurched again, and began to list more noticeably. The captain realised his ship was going down, and turned to the comms officer, "Send out the SOS, then abandon ship! ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP!"

----

The light destroyer, RNS Tempest slowly began to tip onto her starboard side, dead in the water from a single torpedo hit. Helicopters began to circle overhead, to locate the survivors.

----

"Dammit!" a furious Commodore Jakobsson hurled the unlit cigar across the bridge of the RNS Republic, causing his XO to duck out of its path, "Contact Commodore Coyote! I want to know what the hell is going on out there!"

Commodore Coyote watched the whole scene play out with a deep sense of remorse inside. He quickly orders all helicopters into search and rescue mode. Hoping the attacked submarine didn't choose this moment to retaliate. He orders all active sonars turned off. He sadly drafts an encoded message to Chief Howling Wolf explaining what happened. He drafts a message to Commodore Jakobsson and the people of Nimzonia. [code:1:27e3990442] It is with deepest regret Commodore Angry Coyote accepts full responsibility for the tragedy befallen the RNS Tempest . A Board of Inquiry will be set up to determine accountability and further actions. It is an ancient Adirondack Bark Eater Tribe custom that this Board of Inquiry be a tribunal with two members of the griveing tribe (Nation) and one member of the Adirondack Bark Eater Tribe to determine cause and punishment if required. [/code:1:27e3990442]

After careful examination Commodore Coyote determines the RNS Tempest might be saved. He order the IOCS Bear to pull along side and secure the RNS Tempest .

Capt Jones is listening intently to the sonar playback. He says "It sounds like that torpedo hit one of their ships. Bring us up to periscope depth."


As soon as the sub comes to periscope depth Capt Jones calls out "Up scope" he does a quick 360 and finds a light destroyer listing badly to starboard. She tips completely onto her side. "I don't think they can save her. There is a lot of men in the water. We have 3 helicopters on board we could save some of those poor souls."
ADM (ret) Cook "Are you nuts they tried to kill us."
Capt Jones "I don't think they meant to fire. It wasn't set up right to get us. Raise the radio mast and sent a message to the Senior Officer afloat offering assistance. Surface and prepare to launch the helos."
ADM (ret) Cook "You are crazy."
Capt Jones "Most of us MadderMikians are."
The big sub surfaces and the crew prepares to launch helos huge hanger doors open and elevators bring the helos up one by one as they launch. one RAH-66 Commache, and 2 MH-60 Nighthawk special operations helicopters lift into the air.

Commodore Angry Coyote is pacing the bridge of the ICOS Wolf a radioman approaches "Sir, the Bear is saying the RNS Tempest is listing too much to try to tie up."
Commodore Angry Coyote curses and throws his coffee mug. The crew insisted he use a plastic cup due to all of the broken glass from previous fits of pique. The lookout reports "Submarine surfacing to port." Commodore Angry Coyote "What the hell else can go wrong."
Radio "The sub IDed herself as the MMS Schizophrenia and is requesting permission to assist in the rescue operation."
Commodore Angry Coyote moves to the port bridge wing and looks on with amazement as the submarine missile deck converts to a helo platform and one by one 3 helos take off. He says "Tell them ok and to bring survivors to the ICOS Bear. That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my 28 years at sea."

Four Nimzonian Seahawk and Lynx choppers already hovered over the gently sumberging hulk of the RNS Tempest. The frigate RNS Vigilant accompanied ICOS Bear, drawing up alongside the dying ship to help take on board survivors. As well as crew, some 230 individuals, the Tempest had been on coastal patrol duty, and the ship's two marine sections, a further sixteen men, were also adrift, and waiting for rescue.
----
Commodore Jakobsson, frustrated at his remoteness from the unfolding scene, was nonetheless relieved and pleasantly surprised to recieve the offer of assistance from the MadderMikian sub, and quickly responded, with details about how many souls are potentially in need of saving. He'll leave dealing with the sinking of the Great Spirit to Commodore Coyote. After a few moments, he went and retrieved his cigar from where he had hurled it. Of course, there was nothing to celebrate now. He sighed, and tucked it back in his pocket.
----
Shortly afterwards, a communique from Nimzonian Fleet Marshall Bjornolf Folkvadr, was transmitted to Commodore Coyote.
[code:1:7a1e08b0bc]We will observe Adirondack Bark Eater Tribe custom in dealing with this matter; responsibility and punishment will be determined once the inquiry is complete. If it is acceptable, myself and Commodore Jakobsson, will represent Nimzonia in the tribunal -- Fleet Marshal Folkvadr, Nimzonian Naval Command.[/code:1:7a1e08b0bc]

Commodore Angry Wolf was getting many messages from the Main Teepee Casino, effectively the government offices of Indian Casino Operator. [code:1:aedf573233]Why are you punishing a sailor for sinking a ship. He is a brave warrier. s/Chief Howling Wolf[/code:1:aedf573233]

A second message: [code:1:aedf573233]Sub Chief Eagle Eyes has explained the ship was a friendly ship assisting us. This brave should face the ultimate punishment -- To stop a stampeding herd of buffalo wearing a loincloth and using a flint knife. s/Chief Howling Wolf[/code:1:aedf573233]

A third message: [code:1:aedf573233]You are relieved of your command. Assign Capt (sel) Sly Arctic Fox commanding officer of the IOCS Hawk to the tribunal. s/Chief Howling Wolf [/code:1:aedf573233]
Commodore Angry Wolf thought well that is it a fine naval career down the tubes.

Another message: [code:1:aedf573233]Your last official duty is to contact those cowardly MadderMikians and get payment for the ICOS Great Spirit. s/Chief Howling Wolf[/code:1:aedf573233]

Commodore Angry Coyote drafts a message to Fleet Marshall Bjornolf Folkvadr: Chief Howling Wolf recommends Capt (select) Sly Arctic Fox to be the Indian Casino Operator member of the tribunal. Give him details of the location and he will fly there. Petty Officer 1st Class Snarling Lynx is being transfered to the ICOS Hawk in chains and will accompany Capt (select) Sly Arctic Fox to stand trial. The pilot LT Smoldering Fire and co-pilot LTJG Stinging Rain of the helicopter in question will also accompany Capt (select) Sly Arctic Fox.
Commodore Angry Coyote drafts a message to the MMS Schizophrenia One of your "exercise" torpedos sunk the ICOS Great Spirit. Chief Howling Wolf demands payment of $6 million USD to replace it and compensate the lost crew's families. I understand that your navy is still hiring mercenaries I need a job. s/Commodore Angry Coyote

Fleet Marshall Folkvadr responds promptly.
[code:1:0792d6481d]The tribunal shall take place at the naval offices in Port Odea, once the RNS Tempest survivors have been brought in. Once the rescue operation is complete, and the MadderMikian submarine has been dealt with, you may transfer Capt (sel) Sly Fox and the others to Commodore Jakobsson's flagship, which will be returning to Port Odea immediately afterwards.[/code:1:0792d6481d]

Commodore Angry Coyote transfers his command to the Squadron Chief of Staff, Capt Broken Tooth Walrus. Capt Broken Tooth Walrus reluctantly takes command from Commodore Coyote. His first order of business is to ensure the safety and rescue of the sailors from the RNS Tempest. He has a strong urge to open fire on the MMS Schizophrenia but they are helping with the rescue. Commodore Walrus signals Commodore Jakobsson announcing the change of command. The helicopters are continuing the search but no new survivors are found.

Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia Capt Jones sends a message to Commodore Coyote [code:1:234dc654fd]It looks like you have the rescue operation well in hand we were glad to be of assistance. Prime Minister for Life Mike Oldsmobile has approved the reparations and will wire the money to Chief Howling Wolf. If you are free from your Indian Casino Operator military duties ADM Dewey Chief of Naval Operations for MadderMike has authorized hiring you. If you accept, a new Arsenal ship is awaiting your command off the coast of Scotland. It is doing shake down trials with units of the First and Third Fleets. The rapid build up of the MadderMikian Navy has left a few command deficiencies.[/code:1:234dc654fd]
The MMS Schizophrenia recalls her helos and they land on the back of the submarine, are folded up and drop down into the hull via elevators. The landing platform is consolidated via some mechanical method and the huge hanger doors are closed and sealed. The big submarine starts forward with the prop wash like an outboard motor. In less than one minute she submerges and is gone, the only trace of her is the eddys left from the propeller.

Rescued 20 sailors and one marine, delivered to the ICOS Wolf

Prime Minister for Life, Mike Oldsmobile is stomping around in his office. "Once again I am surrounded by idiots. Operation No Blubber was going along fine until those morons used a torpedo with our name on it."
He turns to Mike Bond Minister of Information and Intellegence and says "How are our Hydrogen Fuel Cell Submarines coming along?'
Mike Bond "Clydebank Shipyards have finished two of them and they are in acceptance trials now."
Mike Oldsmobile "Great when they are fully outfitted I want to talk to their Captains. We will get this right this time. I don't want to pay for anymore whalers, I want them to be DESTROYED."

Once the rescue operation was completed, and the RNS Tempest survivors were returned to Nimzonian ships, a head count was taken. Commodore Jakobsson read the report, with a grave expression on his face. 11 sailors lost with the ship. He skimmed over the list of names.

Sub-Lieutenant Hagen Saeter
Senior Computer Chief Nils Kristmann
Petty Officer 1/c Olaf Skjelding
Petty Officer 3/c Piers Ljosland
Petty Officer 3/c Haki Ronnqvist
Seaman 1/c Max Olson
Seaman 1/c Urik Ellingsgard
Seaman 1/c Jakob Brahe
Seaman 1/c Leif Viken
Seaman 2/c Simon Van Eyke
Seaman 2/c Pedr Ersson

Jakobsson sighed and laid the report aside. The losses could have been much, much worse than eleven, but it was still a sad day for the Nimzonian Navy, that was for sure. After a few moments, he drafted a message to Commodore Walrus.
[code:1:6e65bc2923]All survivors have now been pulled from the water. Altogether 11 souls lost. If issues with MadderMike have been resolved, the Nimzonian squadron will return to its patrol duties. RNS Republic will be heading back to Port Odea to begin the inquiry. The tribunal will require written testimony from ex-Commodore Angry Coyote, as well as the commanding officer of ICOS Bear. We will need to understand fully the sequence of events leading up to the firing of the torpedo that sank RNS Tempest, before accountability can be determined. Fleet Marshall Folkvadr wants this matter dealt with as soon as possible.[/code:1:6e65bc2923]

Commodore Walrus sends two messages to Commodore Jakobsson [code:1:77a5fc986c]Statement from Ex-Commodore Coyote: Upon receiving conformation from the Combat Information Center of the ICOS Wolf of a highly probable submarine contact all available ASW helicopters were deployed. The back-up helo from ICOS Bear was carring 2 live MK-37 homing torpedoes. Initial investigations conclude Petty Officer 1st Class Snarling Lynx took it upon himself and with no orders to do so launched one of the MK-37 torpedoes. This torpedo locked onto the RNS Tempest and detonated causing an internal explosion resulting in the loss of the RNS Tempest and the 11 brave souls. s/Ex-Commodore Angry Coyote.[/code:1:77a5fc986c]

The second message:[code:1:77a5fc986c]Statement from Commander Spotted Mink: Petty Officer 1st Class Snarling Lynx was never authorized to launch a torpedo from the ICOS Bear's Seahawk helicopter. Ships logs indicate there was no verbal nor electronic fire order. Inspection of the Seahawk helicopter in question determined the safety interlocks on the launch tube of the helicopter were disabled. It was further determined the safety fail safe interlocks were re-wired to include switches to make it easier to override the command system. The maintenance history of the helicopter show its last overhaul was done in the Amalgamated Autos and Aircraft Repair depot in MadderMike all other helicopters are being inspected and will be restored to original specs if necessary. s/Commander Spotted Mink[/code:1:77a5fc986c]

Message from Commodore Walrus to Commodore Jakobsson [code:1:1ff29fcb30]It seems as if those cowards from MadderMike keep showing up to cause us trouble. Chief Howling Wolf has confirmed they paid retribution for the loss of the ICOS Great Spirit. They are off the hook for now. Chief Howling Wolf has confirmed his is sending two more Perry Class Frigates to assist in protecting our whaling interests. He sends his deepest regrets for the loss of the 11 brave sailors and has vowed to collect the next two days receipts from the Casinos and forward the money to the families of the lost sailors. s/Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus[/code:1:1ff29fcb30]

Turning the RNS Republic back towards Nimzonian waters, Commodore Jakobsson quickly drafted a response to Commodore Walrus.
[code:1:a2f9059463]Nimzonia thanks Chief Howling Wolf for his compassion. Judging from the testimonies of ex-Commodore Coyote and Commander Mink, it would appear that this will be an open-and-shut case. I hope to return shortly, and ensure that the rest of the whaling season goes off without any hold-ups. Captain Naustvik of RNS Vigilant is being placed in command of the Nimzonian squadron while I attend the tribunal in Port Odea. The frigate RNS Ragnarok is also being attached to the task force. I have my suspicions about the intent of the MMS Schizophrenia, but if they paid reparations, then, as you say, they are off the hook for now.[/code:1:a2f9059463]
----
Shortly afterwards, a missive was sent from the Nimzonian Foreign Office to Chief Howling Wolf:

Greetings from the Republic of Nimzonia. The families of the lost sailors of RNS Tempest have been notified of your generous donation, and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you on their behalf. The Tempest is Nimzonia's first maritime loss since the second world war, and as such, has come as a particularly heavy blow to our proud naval forces. A memorial to the ship and its lost crew will be erected on Sentry Isle in the Nimzonian Sea. We would be honoured if an Indian Casino Operator party would attend the dedication.

The recent operation in the North Atlantic, and the unfortunate accident that occurred, has thrown into light the need to establish a more cohesive method of ensuring the security of our whaling assets. Though it would appear that the incident with MMS Schizophrenia was an accident, there are nonetheless manifold threats to whaling activities from environmental and animal rights pressure groups, and therefore I would like to propose the establishment of a treaty asserting the whaling rights of our two nations in the North Atlantic, and the formation of an official joint task force to provide security and peace of mind to Nimzonian and Indian civilians conducting whaling operations in these waters.

I eagerly await your response

Dr Erik Mennstein
Nimzonian Foreign Secretary

Chief Howling Wolf responds to Dr Erik Mennstein, Nimzonian Foreign Secretary Indian Casino Operator would be honored to attend the memorial to the RNS Tempest and its lost crew on Sentry Isle in the Nimzonian Sea. I am unable to attend due to health reasons but my grandson Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes will attend in my stead. As Sub-Chief he is responsible for all war parties, your equivilent to Minister of Defense. He will be accompanied by Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus. Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes is authorized to enter into peacekeeping and security agreements for Indian Casino Operator. The official party will be Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes, his two most senior squaws, Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus and his most senior squaw and two protocol lackeys of the grade sub-sub-chief lackey. Although the two lackeys are sworn to secrecy and confidentiality they were trained in MadderMike and will not be present at any negotiations. Chief Howling Wolf is looking forward to closer relations between our two great nations and would like to meet General Paulus Jaarinen when his health improves.

[code:1:d8e74a7551] Secret coded message to Commodore Viscous Wolverine onboard the ASW Carrier ICOS Cougar: I expect we will be working closer with the Nimzonians soon. Our spies in Clydebank Shipyards have indicated that two of the MadderMikian hydrogen fuel cell submarines based upon the German design are in acceptance trials and will soon be headed out. I don't trust them. Move your entire task force to the edge of the Ice Cap to the east of Jan Mayan Island. We have two ICOS whalers the ICOS Morning Mist and the Blood Run operating in that area. [/code:1:d8e74a7551]

Chief Howling Wolf responds to Dr Erik Mennstein, Nimzonian Foreign Secretary Indian Casino Operator would be honored to attend the memorial to the RNS Tempest and its lost crew on Sentry Isle in the Nimzonian Sea. I am unable to attend due to health reasons but my grandson Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes will attend in my stead. As Sub-Chief he is responsible for all war parties, your equivilent to Minister of Defense. He will be accompanied by Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus. Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes is authorized to enter into peacekeeping and security agreements for Indian Casino Operator. The official party will be Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes, his two most senior squaws, Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus and his most senior squaw and two protocol lackeys of the grade sub-sub-chief lackey. Although the two lackeys are sworn to secrecy and confidentiality they were trained in MadderMike and will not be present at any negotiations. Chief Howling Wolf is looking forward to closer relations between our two great nations and would like to meet General Paulus Jaarinen when his health improves.

[code:1:f89f19e192] Secret coded message to Commodore Viscous Wolverine onboard the ASW Carrier ICOS Cougar: I expect we will be working closer with the Nimzonians soon. Our spies in Clydebank Shipyards have indicated that two of the MadderMikian hydrogen fuel cell submarines based upon the German design are in acceptance trials and will soon be headed out. I don't trust them. Move your entire task force to the edge of the Ice Cap to the east of Jan Mayan Island. We have two ICOS whalers the ICOS Morning Mist and the Blood Run operating in that area. [/code:1:f89f19e192]

In the subterranean offices of Prime Minister for Life Mike Oldsmobile a delegation from Blue Peace a confrontational animal rights group petition the Prime Minister for some under the table assistance. Normally Mike would have them shot on sight but his new girl friend is enamored by their idealistic vision of the world.
Blue Peace Leader Martin Shone "We are so pleased you agreed to meet with us, sir."
Mike Oldsmobile "Get on with it what is your bottom line."
Martin Shone "We would like $2 million to purchase a ship we could use to harrass the whaling nations of the North Atlantic."
Mike Oldsmobile "That is a lot of money I have an old but seaworthy coastal supply ship. It is 208 feet long and has a draft of 18 feet. It will require a crew of at least 10 to operate it in the North Atlantic. "
Martin Shone "That would be excellent. We could mount many Zodiacs and harrass the whalers. When can we have it?"
Mike Oldsmobile "Right now it is at dock 3 in Michaelgrad Harborpalace. I will arrange the proper paperwork for your crew to take ownership."

OOC POST

I may have been sloppy with my geography - I'll take this moment to clarify the location of Nimzonia in the North atlantic, with this nifty map:

http://data.photodump.com/Nimzo/NSMap3.jpg

Just pretend all the posts I made previously mentioning something happening off the coast of Nimzonia were referring to the North-east coast.

Sentry Isle is the small island in the South West of Nimzonia, and the Nimzonian Sea is the tiny sea between Sentry Isle and the Nimzonian mainland. Port Odea isn't marked, but its location is just below the I in Nimzonia.

When I was making the map, I cropped off half the key, and didn't notice: The line going through Nimzonia and Iceland indicates that areas to the north of it have an average temperature of 10 degrees celsius (50F) or less, in the warmest months of the year.

Hope that clears up a few issues, while still falling within the bounds of reality.

The Nimzonian Foreign office responds promptly:

"This is good news. The ceremony will be a simple and respectful affair, with military honours, sheduled one week from now. If you wish, negotiations of a treaty will begin immediately afterwards. Suites for the Indian Casino Operator diplomatic party will be prepared in Koenberg at once.

General Jaarinen wishes a speedy recovery, and suggests the possibility of a state visit in the near future."

Dr Erik Mennstein
Nimzonian Foreign Secretary

----

The next evening, RNS Republic pulled into her berth at Port Odea. Commodore Jakobsson and his chief of staff watched the growing crowd of journalists on the dockside.

"Ugh, look at them, the vultures..." Jakobsson grumbled, "I'm not in the mood to make a comment. Have the duty captain get rid of them; tell them I'll call a press conference in the morning or something."

"Aye, sir."

Jakobsson leaned forward against the railing, watching his breath steam on the chilly air. Play your cards right, he thought, and you might not go the same way as Commodore Coyote.

-----

Martin Shone took possession of the rusty coastal freighter and noted the excellent construction. The rust was mostly superficial and didn't affect the seaworthyness of the craft. He gathered the party of 45 volunteers, idealists and young men trying to impress the idealistic young lasses. Martin Shone addressed the group extolling them to save the whales from the excesses of the whaling nations. He expounded and stretched the truth, painting a picture of human-like whales. He was very good at this and he knew it. He got the team fired up and they began to scrape the hull and repaint it the bright blue of Blue Peace. They attached the flag of convenience, Clydebank Shipyards. As they made their way out through the Welland Canal, Lake Ontario and up the St Lawrence Seaway they stopped at friendly nations and purchased supplies, clothing, zodiaks, outboard motors and other gear. All the time Martin Shone making speeches, appearing on TV and asking for donations. Martin Shone was idealistic but he really loved money. His unspoken goal was to retire to one of those Billionaire Compounds in the hills of MadderMike.
OOC: That is almost exactly where I pictured you. It will make it tricky getting by you and Greenland or Iceland.

"Come in."

Commodore Jakobsson stepped inside Fleet Marshall Folkvadr's office in Port Odea, white cap under one arm, and closed the door behind him. The Fleet Marshall, a heavyset balding man in his fifties, was standing by the window, gazing out over the harbour below. Jakobsson stood quietly, awaiting Folkvadr's attention.

After a few moments, the Fleet Marshall turned to face him, "Ah, Commodore Jakobsson. Do sit down. Would you care for a drink? I'm afraid I only have Bourbon... damn cutthroat liquor companies..."

Jakobsson blinked, "Er... Bourbon will be fine, sir. Thank you." he set himself down in the seat in front of the Fleet Marshall's desk.

Folkvadr sat down in the plush chair behind the desk, and poured them both a drink.

"It was godawful luck losing the Tempest this early in the season." the Fleet Marshall grumbled, pushing a glass of bourbon towards Jakobsson, "Right in the middle of our re-organisation of Guardian Fleet. The destroyer Strongarm was mothballed last month - she could have shored up the gap left by Tempest, but it'll take weeks to re-equip her now."

Jakobsson took a sip of the bourbon, to avoid having to speak for a few moments. Then he let out a sigh, "I suppose I must accept responsibility for the loss of the Tempest. I shouldn't have placed her and the Vigilant under the command of a foreign officer."

The Fleet Marshall chuckled slightly, and shook his head, "It wasn't your fault, Olaf. I, myself, wouldn't lay the blame on ex-Commodore Coyote, either. As I understand it, it was a rash, unauthorised action by a hot-headed petty officer. In fact, from what I've heard, you've done a very good job of conducting security operations thus far - we may even have a profitable alliance with the Indians, thanks to your efforts."

The Fleet Marshall stood, and wandered over to the filing cabinet in the corner of his office. The administrative branch was always trying to convince him to use a computer, but he couldn't be bothered with the abominable contraptions. If it wasn't for computers, he always said, then he wouldn't have to go round with an ugly great barcode tattooed on his face.

"Sending out the RNS Ragnarok is just a stop-gap measure. I intend to put the new Guardian Fleet assets and command chain into effect three months earlier than planned. I know the expansion left us with some command deficiencies that were holding up the commissioning of the new units, but I think I've found the man for the job."

Jakobsson sat in silence, occasionally swirling the contents of his glass, and watching the Fleet Marshall rummage in his filing cabinet.

"Ah, here we are." Folkvadr pulled a dossier from the cabinet, and laid it on his desk, dropping back into his chair with a slight grunt, "As you may know from the meetings last year, Guardian fleet will essentially be split into three task groups. The first and second coastal patrol groups, led by Rear-Admiral Aagheim and Rear-Admiral Meyer. This incident with the MadderMikian submarine has, I believe, justified the commissioning of the third task group, the Anti-submarine warfare group, which will be led by Rear-Admiral Jakobsson."

The Fleet Marshall smirked, pushing the dossier towards the new Rear-Admiral Jakobsson, "Congratulations, and welcome to the Admiralty."

Jakobsson glanced wide-eyed at the dossier for a moment, regarding the title "Guardian Fleet: ASW group".

"Thank you, sir!" he blurted, having expected his rank to go the other way.

"Your new Flagship will be the Invincible-class carrier RNS Overlord. I'm going to give the Republic to Commander Svenoy, because I'm fed up with him kissing my ass trying to impress me the whole time. Maybe if I give him a ship, he'll shut up and get some work done."

Jakobsson flicked through the dossier briefly, not really reading it, but taking an initial glance at its contents - specs for his new task group.

"Sir... I don't know what to say. Are you sure I'm the man for the job?"

"Olaf," chuckled the Fleet Marshall, "I'm quite sure. There's nobody else, if that makes you feel any better. Now, I have a few things to prepare for the tribunal, and I'm sure you have things to attend to."

The Fleet Marshall stood again, and extended a hand. Jakobsson quickly picked himself up, and shook the offered hand.

"Very well, dismissed." the Fleet Marshall smiled, "Don't let it go to your head, Rear-Admiral."

Jakobsson saluted, and turned for the door, trying not to let it go to his head, but it didn't stop him from feeling just slightly dazed. Commander Svenoy, Jakobsson's XO, was waiting outside.

"How did it go, sir?" Svenoy asked, "Did he let you off, or should I be referring to you as ensign now?"

"No, Commander," Jakobsson said, with mock aloofness, "You should be referring to me as Rear-Admiral."

Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes and his entourage arrive at the capital city of Koenberg to meet up with Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus. Sub Chief Eagle Eyes is nervous as this is his first visit as an official representative of his country. His grandfather, Chief Howling Wolf was old fashioned in his views of the world but he was an astute judge of men. Eagle Eyes was eager to meet with Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus. Broken Tooth was one of the few men he knew that would speak of Eagle Eyes' father in other than those hushed tones of reverence. Many times Eagle Eyes had asked his grandfather about his dad but the only answer he ever got was "When you are old enough." His only knowledge of his father had come from Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus. It would be good to see his father's brother once again.
Although this was a very somber occasion and there was much work to be done it would be good to meet with people who shared the common heritage of whaling. Eagle Eyes had spent his teenage years on various whalers and knew the true numbers of whales harvested and had a good estimate of the whale population. He knew the likes of Martin Shone and how he twisted the statistics and ignored the traditions of countries like his and Nimzonia to further his own agenda. It would be good to talk to the Nimzonians and hopefully come to an agreement on protecting their common interests.

Koenberg, city of frost, bustling metropolis of the north, currently enjoying its warmer months, sometimes up to twelve degrees C, bathed in the pale light of the boreal sun twenty hours a day. The sprawling suburbs and industrial estates spread ever outwards from the quaint winding streets and centuries old architecture of the Old Town, at its epicentre. On the cliff overlooking the harbour to the north, is the imposing bulk of the Neimens Castle, built in the 12th century, and one of Nimzonia's oldest standing buildings, with its flag at half-mast out of respect for the loss of the RNS Tempest. On the south side of the bay, stand the gleaming skyscrapers of the modern business district, and to the east, the carefully and picturesquely designed, and discretely guarded Government District.

General Jaarinen himself, along with the foreign secretary and defence minister, are among the party that greets the Indian Casino Operator delegates as they arrive at the International Airport. The High Skald is not present - after hearing that the Indians take somewhat punitive measures against poets, he locked himself in his mountain condo and refused to come out.

General Jaarinen stands out among Nimzonians, not just as the immaculately dressed and regal military leader, but as the only member of the population who doesn't have a barcode tattooed to his face. In his sixties, tall and thin, with sharp features and a shock of white hair, General Jaarinen stands apart from the two ministers, who are both stocky bearded men. He bids the Indian delegates welcome, and leads them to the motorcade of Limousines that will carry them to the diplomatic suites in Luther Square.

The schedule seems to be such that the next few days will be spent acquainting each other with one another's national customs and traditions, and outlining what both parties would like to acheive from diplomatic relations. Then, the party will board the presidential yacht to be taken to Sentry Isle for the dedication of the memorial. After that, a return to Koenberg, and the foreign secretary and defence minister will get down to the nitty-gritty of a possible whaling treaty.

-----

Coded message from Fleet Marshal Folkvadr to Rear-Admiral Carl Fredriksson, commander of 1st and 2nd submarine elements, 1st Battle Strike Group, Fleet Hydra.
[code:1:9e3e379090]I'm inclined to agree with Rear-Admiral Jakobsson that the intentions of MMS Schizophrenia may not have been entirely honourable. I want you to take your submarine elements on 'exercises' under the ice cap north of Jan Mayen. Keep an eye out for any MadderMikian activity, and be ready for action in case we have another sub hunt on our hands. [/code:1:9e3e379090]

-----

Martin Shone is enjoying the cruise of the newly christened Blue Peace II. He spends his time mostly in the wardroom enchanting the young idealistic girls of the crew. The slimy Captain likes young women almost as much as he likes money. He has at least plotted a course wide of Nimzonia remembering the previous encounter with the Blue Peace I. The straight between Nimzonia and Greenland is about 100 miles wide and he keeps much closer to Greenland. He is a very charismatic speaker and has fostered many friendships among the liberal government workers of many nations. They provide him with satellite images of possible whaling areas and even some classified images of the Nimzonian fleet and the Indian Casino Operator fleets. He is particularly concerned about a missing Indian Casino Operator task force. He knows the Indians and some of their tactics but the Nimzonians outside of one incident, he is unsure of. He does know that this time his ship is big enough that no one is going to ram it and cause it to sink without causing a lot of damage to the ramming ship. It should eliminate that tactic but the Indians are still unpredictable. The missing Indian carrier task force could be a ways east of Jan Mayen, the images from there were unclear due to extensive cloud cover. His friends couldn't help him with submarines but they seldom are sent to deal with a political protests. He has made sure his video equipment can transmit to satellites and to various news outlets in case things get ugly.

Meanwhile, in Port Odea, the tribunal was getting under way. The first session was being started in the somewhat pretentiously named 'High Seas Court', which was slightly overelaborate for a room where troublesome sailors are hastily dealt with by a kangaroo court. Today, however, it had been done up to look at least somewhat respectable, with wood panelling on the walls, and coffee stains and cigar burns cleaned or varnished off the surfaces.

Fleet Marshall Folkvadr had set himself in the throne-like judge's seat, partly because it was the most impressive chair available, and partly becasue he wanted to be the one doing any actual adjudicating. All other witnesses and members of the tribunal had to make do with the row of plastic chairs set out before it.

The Fleet Marshall cleared his throat importantly, "Very well, gentlemen. Let's begin, and hopefully we can get this over with by lunch time. We've heard the testimonies from ex-Commodore Coyote, and Commander Spotted Mink. Rear-Admiral Jakobsson, if you please."

Jakobsson stood, "I'm afraid I don't have much to add, Fleet Marshall. The task force was split into two groups - Mine, which was covering potential escape routes to the north, and ex-Commodore Coyote's, which was covering escape routes to the south. I had placed RNS Tempest and RNS Vigilant under ex-Commodore Coyote's command. The Vigilant was initially placed in the centre, but then it was recommended that the Vigilant exchange positions with RNS Tempest. RNS Tempest had just finished deploying her trailing wire, when the torpedo hit, square amidships. As I understand it, the majority of the fatalities were in the Electronic Fire-Control Room, where the torpedo hit." He glanced up to Folkvadr, "That's all, sir."

The Fleet Marshall nodded, and Jakobsson returned to his seat. Folkvadr then turned his attention to the Indian members of the tribunal; Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox, Petty officer 1/c Snarling Lynx, who was in chains and flanked by guards, and the two helicopter pilots

All of the Indian Casino Operator Naval personnel were wearing full dress blues as it was before April 1st, the traditional change into whites. Each of the officers wore a highly ornamental tomahawk in the manner most naval officers wore the ceremonial sword. Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox begins by addressing the court. "It is my distinct pleasure to be a member of this tribunal. This is an age old tradition of our tribe and has settled many disputes and offered many punishments. My first question is addressed to Petty Officer 1/c Snarling Lynx, What were your intentions the day you decided in your infinite stupidity to take it upon yourself to arm and fire a torpedo?"
Petty Officer 1/c Snarling Lynx belligerently answers "I was defending the honor of my brother. I fully intended to sink that stinking submarine. You can't prove it was my torpedo that sunk that Nimzonian ship. Those sneaky MadderMikians did it." He turns to Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox, "You were onboard the ship when my brother was unfairly kicked out of the Navy just because he attacked an officer with a knife." He continues with his diatribe "You officers are always trying to hold the enlisted man down, you and those Nimzonian admirals sitting up there in your fancy chairs. I don't care if I did sink that ship." With that and even in his chains he lunged at Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox. LT Smoldering Fire slams Petty Officer 1/c Snarling Lynx on the side of his head using the back of the ceremonial and apparently quite useful tomahawk. Petty Officer 1/c Snarling Lynx staggers to the floor and begins cursing everyone and their family heritage.
Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox "I don't think we need anymore testimony. Indian Casino Operator's representative turns over the finding of guilty to the Senior member of the tribunal with the recommendation of Severe and Harsh punishment."

OOC: Sorry I got a little carried away. Feel free to grill anyone you wish.

OOC: I thought it was kinda funny. Especially the Nimzonian admirals in their fancy chairs.

The Fleet Marshall scowled at the cursing Petty officer for a long moment, before nodding to Captain (select) Arctic Fox.

"Thank you Captain. I think we've heard enough. This confirms what we've heard from other sources, and I see no reason to drag this issue out any further."

He turned his scowl back to Snarling Lynx.

"Petty officer first class Snarling Lynx. This tribunal finds you guilty of insubordination, incompetence, dereliction of duty and deliberate gross negligence leading to the destruction of a valuable Guardian Fleet asset, and the loss of eleven lives. That you show no remorse for the eleven sailors who died because of your unauthorised actions adds further insult to injury. The harshest punishment a Nimzonian Naval tribunal can give out is death by hanging, but that is reserved solely for treason, desertion during wartime, and spying. Short of this, an offending sailor will receive a dishonourable discharge from the armed forces, and be subject to a prison sentence and extensive hard labour. However, you are not a Nimzonian sailor, and therefore I reccomend that you be sentenced according to Indian Casino Operator Naval law, by the harshest means allowable. It is my hope that your ill-considered actions will not damage diplomatic relations between our two countries."

The fleet Marshall glances to the other members of the tribunal, "Do I hear any objections to this verdict?"

Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox addresses the tribunal and Petty Officer 1/c Snarling Lynx "As a Captain (select) I am not authorized to dole out the death penalty no matter how well deserved. As you all know fresh air and the outdoors are the most important aspects of our quality of life. Therefore I sentence you Petty Officer 1/c Snarling Lynx to a dishonorable discharge and 20 years hard labor deep in the coal mines of Indian Casino Operator. If the periodic methane gas explosions nor the alarmingly frequent floodings don't get you surely the black lung will."
Petty Officer 1/c Snarling Lynx actually snarled back and with a quick motion grabbed LT Smoldering Fire's tomahawk and started towards Sly Arctic Fox. "*&^**&&%%**& you and your family I'll kill you." Sly Arctic Fox with a smooth fluid motion drew his ceremonial tomahawk. Continuing with an efficient, effective motion born of years of practice, threw the tomahawk at Snarling Lynx burying the hatchet end deep in his forehead. He calmly walked over to Snarling Lynx pulled out the tomahawk and carefully wiped it on the dead mans uniform. "I guess in some cases I am authorized to hand out the death penalty."

Fleet Marshall Folkvadr and Rear-Admiral Jakobsson watched the prisoner slump to the floor with an axe buried in his forehead, and re-holstered the pistols they had drawn. Fleet Marshall Folkvadr cleared his throat.

"Well... I can't say that happens too often during a military tribunal. Not since the eighties, I believe." he shook his head, "I suppose that takes care of the sentencing, anyway. I will leave it to Indian Casino Operator tribunals to consider how a man of such dangerously unstable temperament was put in control of a sophisticated weapons platform. Nimzonia does not hold ex-Commodore Angry Coyote accountable for the actions of this man, or the loss of our destroyer, nor shall we be demanding that the ICO government pay to replace RNS Tempest. However, I would advise that, should our navies be working more closely together in future, that all personnel be screened to weed out black sheep like Snarling Lynx."

The Fleet Marshall glanced down at the corpse again, "We will, however, hold you accountable for the mess on our floor, and request that it be cleaned up immediately."

Onboard the recently refitted MMS Schizophrenia Capt Jones is trying some Nimzonian Vodka he picked up in Scotland while getting more supplies, food and changing out some of his crew. He notes to ADM (ret) Cook "This is really pretty good stuff. Do you think we will find our target today?"
ADM (ret) Cook "I don't know we still are a long ways from the prime Nimzonian whaling grounds."
Capt Cook "Well we aren't too far from one of the Indian's hunting grounds maybe they will show up there first."

The submarine lurks in the northern part of the strait between Nimzonia and Iceland. Cruising at 3 knots the sub is almost undetectable.

LT Rickover "Captain what is this other ship we are looking for? We are far enough out now you can tell us."

Capt Jones "Well I suppose you can know. We are looking for the latest Blue Peace ship. We are going to sink it as soon as it starts harrassing the whaling community. Then it will look like either the Nimzonians or the Indians have attacked them. The international outrage will put their whaling industry in mothballs."

ADM (ret) Cook starts to chuckle and comments "That is brilliant who thought of that one?"

Capt Jones "Why Mike Oldsmobile of course. He hates those idiot Blue Peacers and this way he can kill two birds with one stone so to speak."

Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox spots two seamen from the ICOS Hawk and calls them over. "Clean up this mess lads and then you can have a 24 hour liberty call."
Seaman Dirty Owl and Seaman Crafty Raven "Aye Aye Sir!"
They gather up mops, buckets, soap and water and begin to swab down the bloody floor.
Seaman Dirty Owl "I told you the old man was tough."
Seaman Crafty Raven "No question about that. Did you see how fast he pulled out the tomahawk?"
Seaman Dirty Owl "Did you hear the Nimzonian brass? He said this happened a lot in the '80s."
Seaman Crafty Raven "Yeah we usually miss the action."
Seaman Dirty Owl "This time we were there. No one will be able to top us at the bars tonight."
Seaman Crafty Raven "You know what this means? We will be going through a ton of psychological exams."
Seaman Dirty Owl "Yeah but not for 24 hours!"

A few days later, General Jaarinen arrived at his namesake city, Jaarinenberg on Sentry Isle, with the ICO entourage, and was driven out to the naval memorial site by the coast. Fleet Marshall Folkvadr and Rear-Admiral Jakobsson were also in attendance, along with the survivors of the Tempest, various other naval personnel, and a small group of widows, mothers and other relatives of the lost sailors. Captain (select) Sly Arctic Fox and his men were also invited. The Tempest's marine section fired a salute, as the memorial was officially dedicated.

The memorial consisted of a tall marble slab, upon which was engraved the names of the lost sailors, and the ship's coat of arms. Mounted on top of the slab was the Tempest's anchor, recently recovered from the wreck by a navy salvage vessel.

After a flyover by navy FA-18s, General Jaarinen made a small speech, commending the bravery of the Tempest's crew, and declaring that the new class of Anti-Submarine Warfare frigates being laid down in the Port Odea naval yards, would be designated the Tempest class, and the first of the class will continue the name and tradition of RNS Tempest.

Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes directs his honor guard to shoot a flaming arrow in a high arc into the sea. He says in a measured and respectful voice "Though the sea will extinguish the flame of this arrow the spirit of those honored will live on. The people gathered here will not forget the bravery and the sacrifice of the men honored this day."

On board the MMSSchizophrenia the CO, Capt Jones decides the Blue Peace II is probably going to enter the Greenland Sea using the Greenland-Nimzonia narrows. He begins a slow crossing of the northern reaches of Nimzonian territorial waters careful to stay in international waters and to keep enough water under the keel for evasive maneuvering. Sonar reports lots of little contacts mostly fishing boats and maybe a coastal patrol boat, nothing big, nothing fast, and more importantly nothing that sounds like whales. The captain reminds sonar to keep an ear out for submarines, two MadderMikian hydrogen fuel cell subs are supposed to arrive to assist and those two submarines tagging along with the Nimzonian task force are around somewhere. Capt Jones is skeptical if the two fuel cell subs will make it this far on their maiden voyages. He is convinced he is alone in this, and in the wrong type of sub. He knows MadderMike has at least two Seawolf class subs and 3 Los Angeles Class subs along with five or six Sturgeon class SSNs (he couldn't remember if one had been decommissioned). All better suited for hunter killer duty. He also knows Mike Oldsmobile prefers to keep those assets close to home. He also knows he and his crew of mostly mercenaries are expendable -- to Oldsmobile not to him. Oh well he didn't get to rise through the ranks of the MadderMike Navy by being a fool, he didn't intend to start. Back to the book he "borrowed" from the library while getting supplies Jane's Directory on the Nimzonian Navy and her most senior officers

After the dedication, General Jaarinen thanked Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes for his attendance, and invited him back to Koenberg, where negotiation of a treaty to support mutual whaling interests in the north atlantic could begin in earnest.

Fleet Marshall Folkvadr and Rear-Admiral Jakobsson walked together down the hill from the memorial site, wrapped in long coats to protect against the chilly wind blowing in from Greenland.

"I have informed Admiral Engstrand and Vice-Admiral Koss of the change of schedule." said the Fleet Marshall, "Of course, they're not happy with me meddling in affairs at their command levels, but I don't care." he chuckled, "When we get back to Port Odea, I want you to take your task force into the arctic north of iceland. You'll be there to conduct trials with the new command chain and such, but that's all an official pretext; I want you to keep an eye out for MadderMikian subs. I'll eat my hat if they didn't notice a whole task force in their 'exercise area'. Submarine elements of fleet Hydra are operating under the ice cap, if you need them."

----

The RNS Calm Horizons was still on patrol in the arctic, but nothing anywhere near as interesting as the sinking of ICOS Great Spirit had happened since.

That is, until a vessel appeared on the horizon, coming out of the Greenland Strait. Captain Thorstvedt ordered the helmsman to bring the ship closer for a better look...

"Blue peace!" the captain muttered, "I thought we saw those cretins off the last time! Tell comm-" he paused, "Who's in charge again?"

"Rear-Admiral Meyer, sir!" a junior officer responded.

"Right, well, tell the Rear-Admiral that Blue Peace have come back for more, and they've got a bigger ship this time."

After a few moments, the radioman came back, "Rear-Admiral Meyer says to shadow them, sir. Breath down their necks, and let them see our marines standing on deck."

"Ah." captain Thorstvedt smiled, "Well, bring us alongside her, then. Have the Sergeant bring his men up on deck. We'll observe standard procedure on this one - if they start causing trouble, accuse them of piracy and board them."

-----

OOC: As OOC info, in case it becomes important later, I'll state Nimzonia's submarine forces also. There are six Narvhalen class small coastal patrol subs (including Valnir and Naajir) on duty around the Nimzonian coast, and in the Nimzonian sea, and another one that is currently mothballed. Rear-Admiral Fredriksson's group, which is heading north, consists of 2 Los Angeles and 3 Seawolf subs, but they're heading away from the current area of interest in the Greenland strait. There are another 2 Los Angeles and 3 Seawolf subs docked at Port Odea, but they aren't at a great level of readiness.

Martin Shone was enjoying an afternoon frolic when a shout arose from the bridge "Nimzonian patrol craft to starboard!" He rushed out onto the main deck to see a small military ship approaching. He picked up a bull horn and announced to the crew of the Blue Peace II that the Nimzonian navy was approaching. He told them to be calm and to break out the cameras. He had his crew prepare the uplink to the satellite news feed just in case.

God it's cold out here, he thought, next time I am going after nuclear tests in a warm climate. He wasn't worried about ramming this time. His ship was twice the size of the coastal patrol craft.

He was a consummate showman and set the cameras up to show him standing on the deck with the Nimzonian craft in the background. He starts off the news feed "As you can see the whaling countries come out to threaten us the moment we come close to their country. We have done nothing but sail this beautiful blue vessel of peace in international waters. As you can see behind me the Nimzonian navy has sent a war ship filled with angry marines to intimidate anyone trying to peacefully settle the woeful destruction of these sentient creatures."

To make things look good for the cameras he has some of the young female crewmembers lift their blouses up to show the marines (Off Camera of course). This has the desired effect of causing the marines to hoot and holler. To the camera's eye and the news feed it looks like the marines are taking a menacing posture.

Eighty miles to the east the MMS Schizophrenia is at periscope depth and they are trailing a communications floating antenna. After the official transmissions are received the CO allows the crew to watch some news from one of the satellite news services. He watches the live feed coming in about the Blue Peace II.

Capt Jones "There is that slime ball. Do any of you guys see any landmarks?"
Petty officer 3/c Mike Hunley "No sir, but that wavy haired guy said he was in international waters to the north and west of Nimzonia."

Capt Jones "Perfect, dive to 350 feet and lets get a move on." He marks a spot on the navagation display with his finger and says here is where we can intercept them.

Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes assures General Jaarinen he is anxious to get a treaty in place soon "There are many countries that would like to deny our common heritage."

Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes agrees to meet in Koenberg, he leaves the details of the time and place up to the General's and his staff. Eagle Eyes enjoys the brisk breeze and the cold washing against his face. It brings fond memories of whaling adventures.

As the Tribe did in the past and as the Tribe does now, all whaling is done with small wooden boats, hand harpoons and brave adventuresome young men. Modern refrigerated whaling ships take the men to the whales and the whale blubber and meat to the Indians. He explains this to the General saying that with all of the modern diversions the young braves of the Adirondak Bark Eater tribe are losing a sense of tradition, whaling is their birthright and one of the few ways left to the Indians to connect with nature.

"We must act to preserve this tradition, our two countries cannot allow ourselves to be intimidated into losing our ancestry." Eagle Eyes says with a determined somberness.

General Jaarinen suggests that the treaty be negotiated as soon as possible, since the whaling season is already well underway. He declares his intention to return to Koenberg at once, and invites the ICO party to accompany him there on his yacht, a majestic and not overly affluent vessel, designed to provide comfort yet also make it perfectly clear that its owner is a military man.

He explains that, centuries ago, the whaling territories were a proving ground for young viking warriors, and the art of longboat making has not been lost to the Nimzonians. While most of the current whaling fleet consists of modern vessels with harpoon cannons, a number of companies still use sail-and-oar driven longboats, though most of these are fitted with harpoon cannons.

"Nimzonia has a lot of old whaling families, who provide many fine sailors to our naval forces." He tells Sub-chief Eagle Eyes, "As well as landing fine whales for our food suppliers; the northern climate prevents the growing of most crops, and we have few quality pastures. Nimzonia relies on the sea for much of its food requirement."

----

On board the RNS Calm Horizons, Captain Thorstvedt frowned, and threw a half-finished banana-and-potato chip sandwich out the window of the bridge at the Marine sergeant on the deck below.

"Sergeant! Keep your men under control! They're filming us, you idiot!"

The Sergeant barked an order, and the marines reluctantly ceased their hollering.

"That's better." Captain Thorstvedt turned back to the helmsman, "Keep us right alongside her. They won't put us off that easily." then, after a moments thought, "And get our surveillance cameras on them - two can play at this game, and we'll need some evidence to justify it, if we sink them later."

----

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson stood on the flight deck of his new flagship, RNS Overlord, as it cruised along the south coast of Nimzonia with its frigate and destroyer escort, heading for the Iceland strait.

The aircraft complement was mostly Sea Hawk helicopters, but there were also a few Harrier FA2s, in case he needed them. Most of the other commanders in the task force, he hadn't worked with before, so there was still a certain amount of team-building work to be done. He reviewed the list of ships and commanders.

1st ASW group, Guardian Fleet
Commander: Rear-Admiral Olaf Jakobsson (RNS Overlord)

Carrier element
Commander: Flag Commodore Paulus Myhre (RNS Overlord)
RNS Overlord (invincible class ASW carrier)
RNS General Jaarinen (Leahy class guided-missile cruiser)

Destroyer element
Commander: Commodore Aaron Brovik (RNS Warspite)
RNS Warspite (Sheffield class destroyer)
RNS Imperious (Sheffield class destroyer)
RNS Glaive (Sheffield class destroyer)
RNS Typhoon (Sheffield class destroyer)

Frigate element
Commander: Commodore Sven Kippe (RNS Mount Krogius)
RNS Mount Krogius (Type 22 Broadsword class frigate)
RNS Kelsey (Type 22 Broadsword class frigate)
RNS Khorlingasbad (Type 22 Broadsword class frigate)
RNS Darkwind (Type 22 Broadsword class frigate)
RNS Frost (Type 22 Broadsword class frigate)

Of course, he didn't have all his ships with him yet. Kelsey and Khorlingasbad, as well as the destroyer Glaive were still in Port Odea, and wouldn't be ready to sail for a few days yet. They would escort the supply ship RNS Able up to the task group next week.

------

OOC: I just thought I'd mention, for future reference, RNS Calm Horizons is about 170 feet in length, and has 8 marines.

Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes agrees to accompany General Jaarinen on his yacht. He sets forth some of the Indian Casino Operator desires for a mutual assistance treaty. [code:1:58663ec776] Each country respects the other country's right to conduct whale harvesting in the North Atlantic.
Each country will come to the aid of the other when whaling interests of the other are threated. This aid may be in the form of military, financial political or any combination of these.
Due to the extreme distances the Indian Casino Operator fleet has to travel to protect the whaling interests of Indian Casino Operator, Indian Casino Operator is requesting limited use of military facilites, primarily naval bases. For this privilage Indian Casino Operator is prepared to pay one billion USD per year.
In light of the RNS Tempest incident all shared naval assets will be under the command of a suitable Nimzonian commander until an acceptable Indian Casino Operator commander is able to share these duties.
Indian Casino Operator will maintain one ASW strike force with at least light carrier, a CG, up to 3 DDGs 1 or 2 FFGs, fast combat supply ship and usually 1 Los Angeles class submarine (Our only one).
With our two fast combat supply ships operating out of Nimzonia we will be able to continuously supply two sizable battle fleets.
Indian Casino Operator will notify in advance all submarine traffic traversing either the Greenland Strait or the Iceland Strait. [/code:1:58663ec776]

The MMS Schizophrenia is racing towards the intercept point at almost 20 knots. Capt Jones slows the ship down and deploys the trailing wire. Almost immediately sonar picks up a contact.

Sonar "Capt it is a really funny signal almost like two different ships in the same spot."
Capt Jones studies the display and coordinates and decides to maneuver to a position behind the odd signal. As the sub gets closer the onboard array begins to decipher the signals and it is apparent there are two ships very close to each other.

Capt Jones decides to try a "cowboy" stunt and comes beneath the two ships. He puts the periscope up and surveys the hulls of the ships above him. One is very obviously a freighter and the other looks to be a coastal patrol craft a pretty big one at that. Not quite as big as a US Coast Guard Medium cutter but close.

The Captain slowly eases out from underneath the two ships and takes up position about two miles aft and to the port side of the freighter. He is pretty sure it is the Blue Peace II and is waiting for it to interrupt whaling operations. By his estimate they are about 60-70 miles from the closest Nimzonian whaling area. At about 8 knots they will be there in about 8 hours.

At dusk when the sea state is calmer Capt Jones takes the MMS Schizophrenia up to periscope depth and takes a quick peek. Sure enough it is the Blue Peace II and unbelievably close is the Nimzonian Patrol Vessel.

"This is going to be a piece of cake. Everyone will assume it is the Nimzonians attacking the Blue Peace II." said the Captain to no one in particular.

General Jaarinen and his defence minister review the proposal, and seem fairly pleased with the overall concept. Indian Casino Operator vessels can have access to Port Odea while the treaty is in effect.

Currently, the Nimzonian Navy is undergoing a major organisational shift, but when it is complete, Nimzonian waters and whaling territories will be managed by three task groups, collectively known as Guardian Fleet, and commanded by Vice-Admiral Koss as part of the Homeland Defence Force. There are two patrol groups, consisting mostly of patrol gunboats, a handful of destroyers, and deisel-electric patrol subs. These two groups monitor the Greenland and Iceland straits, and the Nimzonian Sea. The third group is an ASW carrier force, commanded by Rear-Admiral Jakobsson, which will be deployed to the Arctic during the whaling season.

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson is suggested as commander of the joint task force in the arctic, until such time as a suitable Indian Casino Operator commander is found.

An advisor leans over and whispers something to General Jaarinen, and his expression darkens. He goes on to explain about how environmental pressure groups have already forced Nimzonians to prohibit the hunting of certain whale species, such as Belugas, and limit the harvesting of others, until surveys demonstrate their populations to be recovering. He turns the subject over to Sub-Chief Eagle-Eyes, to hear whether the Indians have any similar restrictions.

"I suspect groups such as Blue Peace corrupt the figures regarding whale populations, to further their agendas," he tells Eagle-Eyes, "I'd like to propose the founding of our own scientific commission to monitor whale populations and such, to get a more accurate assessment of the situation."

The whaling vessel Drunken Viking was back at work in the arctic. Apparently 3/4 of a Humpback wasn't enough to win any significant trophy, although it afforded them supplies for their next trip. The captain had even brought his youngest grandson along, to introduce yet another member of the family to the centuries old sailing tradition.

The Patriarch-Captain stood on the forward deck with the short and stocky twelve year-old, whose features were mostly concealed by excessive amounts of winter clothing, presumably at the behest of some overbearing mother. It wasn't all that necessary; Nimzonians are a hardy breed, used to living in arctic temperatures, and are the kind of people who sit on the beach in northern Scotland in their T-shirts, and wonder why everyone gives them funny looks from behind their scarves and hats. This time, though the captain had given into his daughter-in-law's demands, with a tired "Yes, Helga", and had thus far ensured that the kid was wearing enough to make an Eskimo look underdressed. A bit overkill, perhaps, but he wanted to make sure there was absolutely no chance he'd be subjected to an invective from his daugher-in-law on their return. He remembered his first whaling adventure, when he'd returned to Neumenholm with pneumonia and frostbite; it was all part of the experience! He'd argued briefly, but Helga weighed twice as much as he did, and, if rumours were true, could arm-wrestle a bear.

They had sighted a pod of Minke whales earlier, but he had decided to let them go; he wanted to catch something bigger. Currently, the henpecked captain was relaying grand tales of whaling adventures past, about the mighty sperm whale that ate his first ship, and other such yarns of questionable authenticity. Eventually, the tales turned to recent harrassment by animal rights groups.

"Blue Peace!" the Captain spat, as one of the more confrontational groups came to mind, "Those idiots! Who are they to attack our traditions!?"

Predictably, the boy asked, "So... what do we do if Blue Peace show up?"

"Your cousin Sven's gonna moon them." said the captain, "If that doesn't get rid of them... well, we don't keep baseball bats and crowbars onboard for nothing!"

Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia sonar reports; "We have another vessel a long ways off. Hard to say what or exactly where yet, it seems to match the signature of the Nimzonian whaler sir"

Capt Jones "Keep on it this might get interesting."

Sonar "We have two big groups of biological signals, sir. My guess is whales."

Sonar "Another vessel approaching from the north. It is small and moving slow. No match on the signature."

Capt Jones takes the MMS Schizophrenia on a series of long lazy ess curves to clear baffles and to get a better picture of the drama topside.

Sonar "We have a better view now sir."

Capt Jones studies the sonar displays and compares them to the chart of known whaling areas. He calculates the Blue Peace II and its Nimzonian escort are headed into prime Nimzonian haddock fishing grounds. He figures the whaling areas to be to the North North East of this area.

"That idiot Martin Shone can't even find whalers!" He turns his attention to the probable whaler arriving from the South South West and realizes the Blue Peace II will probably follow her if they spot the whaler.

He and ADM (ret) Cook come up with a plan. They ease up to periscope depth and raise the VHF antenna. The two of them take turns in what seems to be chattering between chase boats and a whaler. They are only familiar with the Indian Casino Operator dialect but that should be enough to peak the Blue Peace's interest.

Captain Shining Lake of the ICOS Great Spirit II is making his way off the tip of Greenland heading for the Greenland/Nimzonia Strait. He is talking to his brother Stinking Foot, Captain of the ICOS Fair Weather on HF radio. The ICOS Fair Weather is an Indian Casino Operator whaling vessel smaller than the original Great Spirit. She is heading South from the whaling triangle between Iceland, Jan Mayen and Cape Brewster, Greenland. Captain Stinking Foot had heard there was some Minke Whales to the south and was going to try and catch a few.

----------------
Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes agrees to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson as the leader of the combined ASW task force. He signs the treaty in blood from a slice in his thumb. He cautions General Jaarinen to wait until it is dry due to all of the new "White Man's" diseases and apologizes for the stereotype carefully explaining that the Nimzonians are not included in the standard Indian curse.

He listened to the proposal to have an international scientific study of whales and their current numbers. He liked the idea and agreed. The University of Main Tepee has several cetacean experts and he will contact the Chancellor of the University to appoint the most prestegious professors to the Indian Casino Operator contingent of the International Panel.

OOC:Main Tepee is the captial city of Indian Casino Operator, it is also the name of the largest Casino in Main Tepee and the top 20 floors of the casino are the main government offices of Indian Casino Operator.

General Jaarinen concludes the signing of the treaty, not seeming particularly bothered about the "White man" remark. He comments that it would make things easier in future if Nimzonia and Indian Casino Operator exchaged embassies. An embassy could be prepared in the Republikstaad, in Luther Square, if the Indians can find an ambassador willing to put up with Koenberg weather.

As is the traditional way of sealing a treaty in Nimzonia, the participants drink a toast of traditionally brewed Nimzonian mead, in skull tankards. The tankards are actually just metal shaped to look like skulls; General Jaarinen explains that the practice of actually drinking out of the skulls of vanquished enemies was outlawed in the 11th century, when the church got its claws into Nimzonia. The church has since left, mostly because General Jaarinen started taxing it, but even so, the General feels that reverting to the ancient practice would likely damage Nimzonia's reputation as a civilised nation. The tankards are still trophies, however - made from material recovered from the hull of a German U-boat, sunk by Nimzonian torpedo bombers in 1944.

----

OOC: I want to see what Martin Shone does, before I post the whalers or the RNS Calm Horizons again.

Martin Shone is eyeing the RNS Calm Horizons trying to think of a way to embarass the Nimzonian Captain when his radioman comes out on deck.

Radioman "Mr Shone, there is some radio traffic that sounds like whalers and their chase boats. I did a quick radio direction finding and they seem to be behind us."

Martin Shone "Beautiful!" He then goes up to the pilot house and takes the helm. He eases the Blue Peace II just a little bit closer to the RNS Calm Horizons. As he does so the complicated eddy currents between the two vessels acts like a vacuum drawing them closer together. He watches as the helmsman of the RNS Calm Horizons struggles to keep the ships from colliding. He chuckles to himself and then eases the Blue Peace II away from the Calm Horizons. As soon as he is clear he makes a quick swing to the south and his gaze shifts from the radar repeater to the horizon and back again.

OOC: Is it ok if he harrasses and chases the Drunken Viking?

OOC: Sure. That's what they're there for :)

Captain Thorstvedt steadied himself against the wall, as the RNS Calm Horizons heaved in the water. He glanced out the window, as the Blue Peace II turned away to the south.

He patted the helmsman on the shoulder, "That's it, keep her steady. Don't let those Blue Peace idiots out of our sight. They might be smug with their cameras on us, but the moment they start actually endangering our shipping, and we'll be justified in turning their pretty blue boat into swiss cheese."

"What, Edam?" said the Helmsman, who was a bit dull-witted.

"No, you fool, Edam is dutch!" Thorstvedt shook his head, "I'm talking about the one with the holes in!"

RNS Calm Horizons resumed its shadowing of the Blue Peace ship, a certain amount of cheesy discussion continuing on the bridge.

-----

Onboard the Drunken Viking, the youngest crew-member was being subjected to further dubious anecdotes, this time from his cousins, the aforementioned Sven, and Beardy Bjorn, the radioman.

"Sometimes, you get giant squids in these waters." declared Sven, who was eighteen, tall, and pimply, "Sometimes they get caught in fishing nets. They've got eyes as big as your head!"

"Aye," agreed Beardy Bjorn, who justified his nickname by sporting a ferocious red beard, "And tentacles eighty feet long, with poisonous hooks in - They wrap them round whales, you see, and then they've got this huge beak," he made a pincer-like gesture with his hand, presumably in case the youngster couldn't picture a beak by himself. He shrugged, "Then the whale's a goner."

"I heard," said Sven, in a lower voice, after a quick furtive glance around, in case any giant squids might be eavesdropping, "Sometimes, they mistake a ship for a whale, if it's the right size, and Skrrrsh!" he made an expansive grasping gesture with his hands, "They wrap their tentacles round it, and drag it down into the icy depths, crew and all..."

"Yeah, yeah..." said the youngster, whose name was Ragnar, wearing a somewhat incredulous expression, "That only happens in B-movies."

"No, no, it's true!" insisted Sven, somewhat disappointed that Ragnar wasn't taking the bait, "Sometimes they even-"

At that moment, another miscellaneous cousin stepped into the cabin where the three of them were talking, and made enthusiastic beckoning gestures, "Get up on deck, lads! We've just spotted a big blue off to starboard! Hey, Ragnar, you too - Grandad wants you to be the one to hook it!"

They hurried up on deck where Captain Grandad was already waiting, puffing on his pipe, and watching the huge blue whale breaking the surface some distance away. The Drunken Viking began to head after it, the crew oblivious to the encroaching Blue Peace II

Martin Shone, soon spots the Drunking Viking, he turns the helm over to the previous occupant and runs to the bridge wing. There he uncovers the binoculars mounted on a stantion and peers at the Drunking Viking. He then spots the blue whale pod.

Martin Shone grabs a bullhorn and addresses the crew milling around on the deck. "Set the cameras up, they are going after blue whales. They are still on the endangered list. We can show the world how barbaric these whalers are. Set up two cameras one that can quick to the satellite and another so we can edit the video to show the worst side of this gruesome business."

He now wishes he had disabled the RNS Calm Horizons when he had the chance. He was not done yet. He had his most trusted crew members ready a small zodiac. On the zodiac he loaded his secret weapon. It was a fishing net rigged with remote controled sea scooters used by scuba divers to maneuver around coral reefs. Attached to the net was various lengths of chain with grappeling hooks supported by floatation devices. The purpose of this conglomeration was to drive net/chain combination into the propeller of a whaler and entangle it with the chains. This time his target was the RNS Calm Horizons.

Martin Shone spoke "As soon as we start to harrass the whaler the RNS Calm Horizons will move in we will drop you on their blind side and you scoot around and set the trap. We will then harrass the whaler and with a ship the size of the Blue Peace II we will bump that whaler "accidently" and that will be the end of their whaling for a while. Then we move in and do a video story of the blue whales. The public outcry will be overwhelmingly against Nimzonia.

RNS Calm Horizons closed on the Blue Peace II again, coming alongside, and slightly in front of the other ship, ready to place itself between the Blue Peace ship and any whaler it would attempt to harrass. Captain Thorstvedt, like the majority of other Nimzonian captains, was perhaps slightly liberal in his interpretation of the phrase "Depredation on the High Seas", and thus any attempt to ram a Nimzonian warship would probably be met with an armed boarding party ready to clap the offending crew in irons and cart them back to Port Odea.

He turned to the radioman, "Send a message to our whalers in the area - warn them that Blue Peace are here to cause trouble again."

----

As the Drunken Viking closed in on the sighted Blue Whale, the Patriarch-captain was on the bow, where the harpoon cannon was mounted, instructing Ragnar in its use. Sven, Bjorn, and a few others crowded round, offering their own mostly contradictory advice.

"You want to pull that, and then turn it like-"

"No, you're doing it wrong - hold it on the other side..."

"Aim up and to the left slightly - the sights are busted..."

"Yeah, but mind out, it's got a hair trigger - those things aren't-"

Eventually the old man tired of their prattle and sent them away with a shout of "Get back to work, ye idle dogs!" He turned back, and continued his instruction, gently helping his grandson aim the harpoon, although with a target the size of the one he was being presented, he'd have to screw up pretty badly not to hit it.

"Grandad!" Beardy Bjorn returned after a few moments, "We just got a warning from the navy - Blue Peace are here! I think that's their ship off astern."

The captain waved him away, "Well, even Blue Peace aren't going to stop us making this catch. Go tell Sven it's show-time".

The trial over and the honor guard provided to Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes set to fly out later, the ICOS Wolf, Bear, Hawk and Falcon are steaming single file up the Nimzonia/Greenland Strait.

They are to hook up with the ASW Task force and then link up with Rear-Admiral Jakobsson. The four ICOS ships are to replace similar ships in the Indian task force. Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus will replace Commodore Brown Polar Bear and lead the ICO task group to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson's force. The task force far to the East of Jan Mayen consists of:
The ICOS Eagle a heavily modified America class CVA quite a bit smaller with 20 F14, 5 Viking ASW, 2 A6D tankers and 2 CH47s.
The ICOS Grizzly a Ticondaroga class CG with 2-24 cell VLS one 5 inch rapid fire naval rifle.
The ICOS Copperhead Spruance class DD
The ICOS Diamondback Spruance class DD
The ICOS Lynx Perry Class FFG
The ICOS Bobcat Perry Class FFG
The ICOS Travois Supply class AFS
The ICOS Northern Pike Los Angeles class SSN

Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia Capt Jones is keeping very busy trying to maneuver into a firing position and to find out what is going on on the surface to time the attack to blame anything on the Nimzonians.
-------
Martin Shone pulls the Blue Peace II[i] alongside the [i]Drunken Viking between the Drunken Viking and the pod of blue whales. He makes sure he adheres to the International Rules of the Road for vessels at sea. He is a bit close to the Drunken Viking but within his rights and effectively block the Drunken Viking from firing at the blue whales. What he doesn't see is the ICOS Fair Weather coming in from the north.

Martin Shone is waiting for the RNS Calm Horizons to close and then he will set the trap!

Captain Grandad emitted a curse, as the Blue Peace II cut in front of the Drunken Viking, obscuring their shot. Casting a glance to his grandson, he muttered, "See... Idiots, I tell you!" before turning to shout, "We're smaller than they are; we'll out maneouver them! Bring her around, lads!"

"But what if they film us?" a kinsman replied

"Then they'll preserve our trophy-winning catch for posterity. Whaling is our heritage, our birthright; we've got nothing to be ashamed of!"

Perhaps he spoke too soon; having found sufficient purchase atop the pilot house, Sven chose that moment to bare his pastey-white buttock cleavage at the unfortunate crew of Blue Peace II.

-----

Seeing the Drunken Viking swerve away from the larger Blue Peace vessel, Captain Thorstvedt ordered the helmsman to steer in between the two ships, to keep them apart. He had the marines wait on the aft deck, ready to launch their own zodiacs in case the situation called for a boarding party.

"Keep our cameras on them." the captain grumbled, "We'll have a version of events that hasn't been conveniently edited to make us look worse. If they keep up with this, I suspect we'll be needing it, too."

-----

RNS Overlord and her task force emerged from the Iceland strait. The fleet held position briefly, awaiting a rendezvous with the ICOS ships approaching from the Greenland strait.

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson stood out on the flight deck, with Flag Commodore Myhre. Although the novelty of being able to order commodores about had worn off some time ago, the Rear-Admiral occasionally glanced to his cuff, never ceasing to feel smug at the sight of two stars there, rather than one.

"Rear-Admiral Meyer tells me that Blue Peace is already hassling our whalers in the arctic." he commented to Myhre.

"Does he want our help?"

"Not yet." Jakobsson folded his arms, and stared off towards the eastern horizon, "But considering the trouble we had with them last time, I expect he might be needing our assistance sooner or later."

Martin Shone seeing the Drunken Viking veer off and the RNS Calm Horizons trying to split the two ships, turns slightly into the path of the RNS Calm Horizons. He orders the zodiac dropped off the opposite side and spots Sven mooning the crew from the pilot house of the Drunken Viking "Get that guy on film!" He shouts.

The zodiac with the net trap scoots at high speed around the stern of the Blue Peace II and lines up on the RNS Calm Horizons. As the crew of the Zodiac deploys the net trap and the contraption heads for the propeller of the RNS Calm Horizons, Martin Shone gets on the VHF ship to ship radio and starts to harangue both the RNS Calm Horizons and the Drunken Viking.

Martin Shone's invectives are directed at the ship handling abilities of each captain. This is sure to get them riled up and they might not see the little zodiac until it is too late.

---------------
Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia Capt Jones is frustrated with the close proximity of the three vessels. "I can't get a clear shot" Sonar "Captain more contacts to the south still 45 miles out, unknown type this far out. Capt Jones knows he is going to have to shoot soon.

Commodore Brown Polar Bear is leading the Indian Casino Operator ASW task force southeast towards the mouth of the Greenland/Nimzonian Strait. One of the A6D tankers crashes on landing approach. A huge fireball erupts on the flight deck of the ICOS Eagle suspending all flight ops. A fierce battle to contain the fire and limit the damage begins.

The air boss tells Commodore Brown Polar Bear there are two Vikings still up and they don't have enough fuel to fly to an airfield. Commodore Brown Polar Bear contacts Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus to see if they can land on the RNS Overlord he knows they won't be able to take off with the ramp but at least they will be able to save the planes.

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus sends a flash message to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson on the newly initiated command link explaining the problem. Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus is not sure if the RNS Overlord has arresting gear. He would hate to lose those planes.

The Blue Peacers might have got away unnoticed, if it weren't for the marines waiting on the rear deck of RNS Calm Horizons, ready to launch their own zodiacs. Private Prydz noticed the Blue Peace zodiac, as it moved away after deploying its secret weapon. He nudged Sergeant Krogstad, "Sarge - Blue peace zodiac, sneaking round astern... hey, there's something in the water..."

Just as the Sergeant turned to look, the contraption connected with the propellor of the patrol ship, with an audible clunk. The Marines clung to the nearest available stable object, as the tangled chains and nets locked the ship's rudder, causing it to swerve. A few seconds later, there was a screech of metal, as one of the propeller blades broke. The ship slowed to a halt.

When Captain Thorstvedt learned what had happened, he was furious. After listening to Martin Shone's diatribe, he was angry, but now he was livid.

"That does it! They've gone too far this time! Damage of government property! Tell Sergeant Krogstad to launch his zodiacs, and board that son of a bitch! We'll commandeer the vessel, and bring it back to Port Odea." he glanced towards the radio station, where Martin Shone's invectives were still pouring in, "And smash any communications equipment you find onboard!"

The marines checked their equipment, and climbed aboard their zodiacs, moving out and away from the stranded Calm Horizons, to follow the offending Blue Peacers back to their ship.

"Right, boys, listen up!" Sergeant Krogstad addressed his men, "Firstly, no fragging anyone without sufficient provocation..."

A couple of marines exchanged a grin - 'sufficient provocation' was a phrase very open to interpretation.

"Secondly, feel free to put the boot in. When a bunch of hippies pick an arse-kicking contest with the Nimzonian Navy, there's only going to be one winner!"

-----

In the radio room onboard the Drunken Viking, Beardy Bjorn chuckled to himself, as Martin Shone's berating voice emitted tinnily from the ancient radio set. Bjorn took a swig of whiskey, and belched loudly into the microphone.

After a string of obscure Nimzonian explectives, he switched to English, "Isn't there a tree somewhere you should be hugging, little man? You won't find many out here - the sea's for real men, not pussies like you!"

Out on the forward deck of the Drunken Viking, Ragnar was again sighting up a Blue Whale, this time with slightly more difficulty, although with Captain Grandad's encouragement, he was starting to get the hang of it.

"That's it..." the old man encouraged the youth, "Nice and easy... Those vandals won't take this catch off us, I'll promise you that... right, now fire!"

After a moment's hesitation, the boy pulled the trigger of the harpoon cannon, sending the long metal spear hurtling into the blubbery flank of the huge whale, which began to thrash mightily on the end of its tether.

"Hold on, lad!" the aged captain bellowed over the noise of sea, whale and ship, "This is the fun part!"

-----

Upon recieving the communication from the ICOS Eagle, Rear-Admiral Jakobsson let out a sigh. The Indians seemed to have the unluckiest navy in the world. He took the microphone from the radioman.

"Negative, RNS Overlord is a VTOL carrier, and our flight deck isn't wide enough to land Vikings. Are you certain that they cannot reach Northeastern Nimzonia? Kjorstvik Air Force Base, where we deploy our P3s from, is right by the coast."

Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia Capt Jones spots an opening. The Nimzonian patrol craft after a horrible noise, seems to be dead in the water. The whaler has moved away from the Blue Peace II.

"Load a MK16" Capt Jones orders.
"A MK16?" LT Rickover asks. "That is an old slow torpedo with no active components to hunt a target." he adds.

"I know" says Capt Jones "but it goes where you tell it and it has over 900 pounds of torpex explosives. It will break that blue monstrosity in half and she will go down quicker than a two dollar wh......"

"Hey" says LT Rickover "We all signed the Maddermikian Naval Executive order to clean up our language."

That little pipsqueak has to go, thought Capt Jones. He will find a way to transfer him to a carrier. Let him walk back and forth between the reactors all day.

The weapons officer announces "We have a solution sir."

"Very Well launch the MK 16" orders Capt Jones

"No active sonar, no wire guidance, no passive noise seeking, just hot, straight and normal." comments Capt Jones.
------------------------

The torpedo runs true and hits the Blue Peace II just aft of amidships with a huge explosion, the ship seems to lift out of the water. It cracks in half and the aft portion sinks in a matter of minutes. The forward section settles low into the water the watertight holds intact for now.

------------------------

Onboard the MMS Paranoia a hydrogen fuel cell submarine just exiting the Greenland/Nimzonian Strait the sonarman reports to the CO, Commander Mike Bligh "large explosion twenty miles out.

CDR Bligh "Make for that explosion site. I'll bet our friends in the MMS Schizophrenia are stirring up trouble. I hope we get there in time to help.

Onboard the MMS Paranoia the Ops officer LCDR Michelle Pretentious is reading the last bit of the message traffic. It seems as if the MMS Depression the sister ship to the MMS Paranoia is again having propulsion problems and is 300 miles behind the Paranoia.

CDR Bligh is reviewing all of the sonar signatures recently provided by the MMS Schizophrenia .

Sonar reports sounds like a hull breaking up and sinking.

CDR Bligh comes up for a periscope view and records the carnage in the video recorder. He spots the Drunken Viking and decides to add to the mix. He orders a wire guided MK 37 mod 2 torpedo loaded.

With the arrogance only a man named Bligh could muster he orders the torpedo launched with a fraction of the information one would normally use to attack any ship.

The MK 37 has long range and good speed. CDR Bligh himself uses the wire guidence system to maneuver the torpedo towards the Drunken Viking. The over confident Bligh misses his mark but not entirely. The MK 37 torpedo is designed to sink surface and subsurface ships but when it hits a harpooned blue whale the resulting explosion is spectacular.

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus transmitts the coordinates of Kjorstvik Air Force Base to the two Vikings. He sends a message to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson thanking him for the landing site location. It will be close they will be flying on fumes.
--------------
Stinking Foot, Captain of the ICOS Fair Weather is trying to figure out how to latch onto the blue whale the Drunken Viking has harpooned when it explodes in a shower of blubber, guts, krill and blood. He falls to the deck laughing. He gets on the VHF ship to ship radio and asks the captain of the Drunken Viking if he used enough explosives in his harpoon.

With the sinking of the Blue Peace II the RNS Calm Horizons[/i] dead in the water, for some reason and the blue whale in pieces, Stinking Foot realizes that anyone in the water is in trouble. The cold is one factor but the explosions and blood are going to attrack sharks.
-----
Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus is listening to the radio traffic and concludes something is amiss. He speculates if the MMS Schizophrenia is back. He sends a Flash message to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson stating his conclusions and that he is about 30 miles away from the scene and his small task force can get there in a little over an hour. As this region is under the joint contol of the Indian Casino Operator and Nimzonian mutual protection treaty Rear-Admiral Jakobsson is in charge. Broken Tooth Walrus asks if he is needed for rescue/search and destroy.

At Kjorstvik Air Force Base, crews hurriedly clear the runways, and get any valuable equipment that might be damaged by a crash under cover. The Wing Commander orders fire crews to stand ready. Once the Vikings have been landed, they can get the P3s fuelled and ready to join the task force.

-----

The two Nimzonian zodiacs were just approaching the stern of the Blue Peace II, as the torpedo struck. The forward of the two boats, and its four passengers, were engulfed by the ensuing explosion and flying debris; Private Prydz, in the second zodiac, was lucky just to lose his eyebrows, and recieve a dent to the helmet.

"Holy shit!" a marine exclaimed, "What the hell happened?"

"Damn eco-terrorists!" another cursed.

"Yeah - we should have expected that; blowing up their own ship just to spite us!"

"Where's the other boat? Did we lose the sergeant?"

Prydz steered the zodiac away from the turbulence around the sinking wreckage, "What are we going to do now? Is that sufficient provocation? They killed the sarge!"

"Their forward section is still afloat!" said Corporal Jaspersen, "Let's see if there are any of the bastards left - Lock and load, people; this time we'll be ready for their tricks!"

The marines readied their submachineguns, and Prydz steered the zodiac towards the remaining chunk of Blue Peace II

-----

Onboard the Drunken Viking, the Patriarch-Captain watched the Blue Peace II explode with a mildly bemused expression. Distracted by the inevitable jokes about Sven shooting lightning out of his arse, he barely hit the deck in time, as the whale exploded, showering the front of the ship with bone and other assorted organic shrapnel. The crumpled harpoon hurtled through the air, taking the cap off his head, and pinning it to the front of the pilot house.

Ragnar peeled a chunk of whale blubber off his face, "Uh... is that... meant to happen?"

Captain Grandad peered over, at the expanding cloud of red in the water, "No, it damn well isn't. What the hell is going on in this ocean today!?" he bellowed angrily, drumming his fists against the railing.

He turned, expression softening slightly at the sight of Ragnar standing there covered in whale guts, with a bewildered expression on what was visible of his face, "Fetch another harpoon lad; we'll catch one of the others before they get away! We're not going back until we've hooked a big blue, even if it looks like everything in the water's exploding today!"

-----

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson recieves a report from Rear-Admiral Meyer. He frowns and passes the information on to the Indian Casino Operator commanders.

"Nimzonian marines were attempting to board the Blue Peace II, when it exploded. Captain Thorstvedt's marines are looking for survivors, but I wouldn't give much for their chances. If MMS Schizophrenia is back, then they sunk the wrong ship. Apparently there was a second explosion, nearby, but no ships were hit."

He thinks about tactics for a few moments, and then adds:

"If MMS Schizophrenia is back, then we must make sure she has no escape routes. My task force is about twenty miles out from the trouble zone. Between us, we'll make sure that there's no chance she can sneak back down the Iceland or Greenland straits. If she tries to go around Iceland to the east, and back into the atlantic, Rear-Admiral Aagheim and Rear-Admiral Meyer's patrol groups should be able to head them off. If she tries to go north under the ice cap, there is a Nimzonian submarine group up there on 'exercises'. When your vikings have landed, we should be able to expect P3s from Kjorstvik. If the Schizophrenia is here, then she's not going anywhere."

Sonar on the MMS Schizophrenia reports another explosion and a new underwater contact. Capt Jones asks if another ship has gone down. Sonar reports it doesn't sound like it. He reports more ships inbound about 35 to 40 miles out.

Capt Jones "That underwater contact has to be CDR Bligh on the MMS Paranoia. He is a true idiot. He will get us all killed."

Capt Jones has loose orders to continue harrassing the whaling fleet but has standing orders to protect the MMS Schizophrenia and decides that order has precedence. Let Bligh sink or swim.

Capt Jones orders the sub deep and moving North-North-East to the huge sea mounts surrounding Jan Mayen. He will flirt with the territorial boundry of Norway to save his ship. He knows he will be able to hide in the forest of sea mounts.

CDR Bligh on the MMS Paranoia manages to amass even more arrogance and orders his "Special" Bligh designed warheads loaded on some more MK 37 Mod Bligh torpedos. He intends to sink everything in sight.

A few moments later, and another whale was thrashing about on the end of the Drunken Viking's harpoon.

A few mutterings were going around on deck, that those Blue Peace idiots had brought a load of explosives to sabotage their whaling operations, and had accidentally blown themselves up. Then Beardy Bjorn emerged from the radio room.

"The navy is saying to clear the area." he shouted to Captain Grandad, "They think there's a submarine here, attacking whalers."

The captain chuckled, "If there is, then they sunk the wrong ship! We're not losing this catch, though; tell them we've already harpooned a whale, and will clear the area when we've netted the bastard."

A few of the men on deck exchanged glances. Then the captain's brother stepped forward, "Come on, it's only a whale; there's a whole season ahead of-"

"If I say we'll catch this whale, we'll catch this whale!" the captain bellowed, "Bjorn; tell them. By Thor, We're not going home without one!" he glanced towards Ragnar, "Especially not on the lad's first trip. You hear me?"

There were mutters of "Aye", and the crew went back to their tasks. The captain rested a hand on his grandson's shoulder, and stared back out to sea. Helga's gonna kill me when she finds out about this, but it'll have been worth it!

About 2 miles out from the Kjorstvik Air Force Base the Vikings from ICOS Eagle approaches. The first one lines up on the runway and touches down just as her engines flame out. It rolls to a stop in front of the taxiway well clear of the runway.

The second Viking starts its approach when the engines die. It drops like a rock. The crew punch out and safely land a few hundred yards away. The Viking plunges into the rocky shrub covered area on the edge of the main runway. There is no fuel onboard to catch fire but the hydrolic fluid and various components do catch fire.
-----------------
On the ICOS Eagle the flames spread to an F14 parked amidships and the two 250 lb bombs explode killing 8 Damage Control fire fighters and injuring 10 others. The force of the explosions tear holes in the flight deck and destroy two more F14s on the hanger deck. The ICOS Grizzly and the ICOS Diamondback assist with the fire fighting and finally after 20 hours of fighting the conflagration get things under control.

The ICOS Eagle is listing slightly to port due to all of the water pumped on board to extinguish the fire. Her bilge pumps soon clear up the problem. Captain Dark Sky CO of the ICOS Eagle consults with Commodore Brown Polar Bear outlining the damage. All total 17 crewmen were killed 23 injured requiring a stay in sickbay and 49 others were treated and released. 3 F14s were destroyed and one A6D tanker. Two pilots were lost and one of the Vikings left in the air was destroyed.

The Eagle is seaworthy and can make about 15 knots. She will have to get to a repair facility Capt Sky recommends steaming to Port Odea for repairs. He also recommends taking the Diamondback and the Bobcat as escorts.

Onboard the MMS Paranoia CDR Bligh orders the ship up to periscope depth. He spots the Drunken Viking harpooning a blue whale. This time he gives the visual coordinates to colaborate the sensor data.

Bligh gives the order to fire the MK37Mod Bligh torpedo. As usual he rudely shoves the torpedoman at the wire guiding console aside and takes the controls himself. As soon as the torpedo leaves the launch tube, CDR Bligh is nudging the torpedo left, then right, up then down. In spite of his efforts the torpedo is headed directly towards the Drunken Viking.
--------------------
Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia Capt Jones has all auxiliary equipment shut off, depth at maximum and he is getting every joule of energy directed towards getting out of the area. Normally Capt Jones would stay and help the MMS Paranoia but Bligh is such an idiot he would probably sink the MMS Schizophrenia in his power hungry fervor.

Stinking Foot, Captain of the ICOS Fair Weather is maneuvering his little whaler around trying to pick up survivors to the sinking of the Blue Peace II and any one in the water from the RNS Calm Horizons. The crew of the ICOS Fair Weather cannot believe the Drunken Viking is hunting whales and not assisting in the rescue effort.

Stinking Foot again radios an urgent request for assistance. He describes that there are about 45 people on the forward half of the Blue Peace II and more in the water some in zodiac inflatables and some swimming.

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus orders the ICOS Bear and ICOS Wolf to launch Seahawks to assist in rescue operations. He radios to Stinking Foot that his task force is about 1/2 hour away and the helo's will be there in a matter of minutes.

OOC: Nimzonia is rated 105,344th in the world for Most Compassionate Citizens. :)


The RNS Overlord's twelve Seahawks were already heading into the area to deploy sonobouys, but upon hearing the message from Stinking Foot, Rear-Admiral Jakobsson declared the rescue of survivors a priority, and the choppers changed course for search and rescue operations over the wreck of Blue Peace II

In the water, the only men overboard from RNS Calm Horizons were the two marine zodiacs, and one of those was apparently MIA. They weren't too concerned with all the Blue Peacers in the water, but were still looking for a way of boarding the remaining chunk of the ship that was afloat, in order to lay the smack down on Martin Shone; Nimzonian marines were tenacious, if not too intelligent.

"Here comes the air cavalry!" a marine shouted, as the choppers came into view.

"Woo-hoo!" shouted another.

Private Prydz hauled a random Blue-Peacer out of the water, into the zodiac, and made angry gestures with his submachinegun in the unfortunate hippy's face.

"What do you mean by it, eh? Blowing up your own ship just so we can't board it and kick your asses? eh? eh?"

At that moment, a helicopter hovered low over the water beside them, and one of the crew leaned out, to shout over the noise of the rotors.

"Hey, guys! How many of ours are in the water?"

"Just us four!" the corporal yelled in response, "They blew up their ship just to spite us, and killed the sarge and the guys in the other zodiac! Give us a hand, and we'll show them not to mess with Nimzonia!"

"What?" the man in the helicopter looked confused, "What are you babbling on about? They're stupid, but they're not that stupid! The brass reckons there's a hostile submarine in the area. Get pulling survivors out of the water!"

The corporal looked back to the other three marines, and shrugged. Private Prydz thumped his fist against the air-filled side of the boat, "Dammit! Now we haven't even got an excuse to give these tree-huggers a proper kicking!"

-----

Onboard the Drunken Viking, a second harpoon had been put into the whale, to hopefully speed the process up. The captain had recieved the request from the ICOS Fair Weather, but had brushed it off with a vague "We're busy, maybe later" sort of response. He'd be damned before he gave any sort of aid to Blue Peace.

In his cabin, Uncle Borg was enjoying a bowl of fish soup, when he noticed a rippling start in the middle of the murky-grey liquid. He scratched his bushy grey beard, and looked up. Suddenly, there was a loud CLANG!! sound, and a huge round dent appeared in the wall, causing the ship to lurch suddenly, and causing Uncle Borg to suddenly recieve a face full of fish soup.

Up on deck, everyone heard the noise, and felt the ship rock, but when no further turbulence seemed to be forthcoming, curious looks were exchanged, and there was much shrugging of shoulders. "The sea's gone mad!" a crewman declared, and there were a few chuckles. Sven peered over the edge of the ship; there didn't seem to be anything to see, except a few bubbles rising to the surface. How odd.

Swimming near the Nimzonian zodiac was a bedraggled, cold Martin Shone "Help me! Help me! was all he was able to squeak out.

Onboard the MMS Paranoia sonar reports a metallic noise amid all of the outboard motor noise. The hapless sonarman reports that the torpedo hit but didn't detonate.

CDR Bligh is furious, red faced he shouts "That torpedo missed, it is stuck in the whale blubber, it didn't have a chance. I know it would explode if it hit the target. MY design is perfect." He is actually slobbering and spewing saliva around the control room. He orders yet another MK37 mod Bligh loaded.

The diligent if not too smart sonarman remarks that he hears the distinct sound of helicopters close to the surface.

CDR Bligh remarks "I DON"T GIVE A G** D*** about any rescue helicopters. Get the torpedo ready to fire!"

The torpedo control panel shows tube 3 ready to fire. CDR Bligh orders "FIRE" and launches another torpedo in the general direction of the Drunken Viking.

As usual CDR Bligh sits down at the wire guidance control panel and starts his up up down down left left sequence. The poor sonarman reports the torpedo has surfaced and splashed back down. The torpedo control reports the wire has been cut. Sonar reports the torpedo has gone active with rapid pinging looking for a target.

Private Prydz reached into the water, with the help of corporal Jasperssen, and hauled Martin Shone into the zodiac.

"Yeah, that's right, you come out here to harrass our ships, and then when it all goes tits up, you're suddenly all 'Help me! Help me!'. Hippy Scum."

The Corporal sneered, "Just you wait until we get back to the Calm Horizons. The captain's not too pleased with what you guys did to our ship."

The marines in the zodiac chuckled, as Prydz turned it around to head back to the ship.

-----

The whale harpooned by the Drunken Viking was starting to tire, and the crew were lowering a harness, to haul it onboard. Sven was sitting on top of the pilot house, keeping an eye out for trouble.

A short distance away, something broke the surface of the water, before splashing back down again. At first, Sven thought it might be a dolphin, but dolphins didn't usually come with propellors. A few seconds later, there was a loud Sklortch! sound, as the torpedo slapped into the harnessed whale, sending a second spray of blood and guts over the front of the ship.

The crew stared dumbly at the whale, which now appeared to have a large torpedo protruding from its rear. If it wasn't dead before, it certainly was now.

"I don't believe this!" the captain fumed, "Fate is set against us bringing in a blue whale!"

"Why hasn't it exploded?" a crewman asked.

"I don't know." the captain grumbled, "Tell Bjorn to radio the navy - tell them that some bastards keep torpedoing our whales. Give them a bearing, and wish them good hunting!"

"Aye!" a crewman hurried off to the radio room.

"So... are we going after another one?" the captain's brother was almost afraid to ask.

"Nah..." the captain shook his head, "It's getting dangerous out here, and I think I've had enough for this week. Take us back to land."

The captain turned round, wiping his face on his sleeve, and caught sight of Ragnar, still covered in blood and guts.

"I'm sorry we couldn't land a whale on your first trip, lad." he said after a while.

Ragnar shrugged, "That's alright... I can't wait to tell them this at school - No-one is going to top this for months!"

And so, the great tradition of ludicrously exaggerated tales of the sea, spreads to the next generation.

-----

On the bridge of RNS Overlord, an excited radioman gave a shout to Commodore Myhre.

"Sir! We just got a message from one of our whaling vessels - they claim to have been hit by a dud torpedo; their radioman says it apparently broke the surface before hitting them, so they've been able to give a reasonable guess at a bearing on the sub."

Commodore Myhre passed the information to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson, who then had it transmitted to any ICO vessels still in the area. He ordered any helicopters not required for search and rescue to head out in that direction, and drop their sonobuoys out there.

"Well," commented Jakobsson, "At least we know we're definitely dealing with a sub, and not the incompetence of Blue Peace."

He took a cigar from his pocket, and began to turn it between his fingers. This time, there would be no escape.
-----

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus radios back to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson His task force soon to be attached to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson's is 15 minutes away. He is dispatching the Seahawks from the ICOS Hawk and ICOS Falcon with sona-bouys and no torpedos. He states that Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes has dictated no torpedoes will be helicopter mounted until complete psychological profiles are done on all of the crew members. He asks if anyone is in the water as he wants to go active on his sonar and that could be detrimental to their health.

The Bear, Wolf, Hawk and Falcon are now in a battle spread the Wolf is the closest to the last known coordinates. The four ships slow to 12 knots and deploy trailing wires. The ICOS Bear also has a towed sled but it has never been used and Commodore Walrus decides to use proven technology.

Commodore Walrus checks each ship to make sure they have ASROCs ready to launch. Firing a torpedo at a civilian ship is an act of war and Commodore Walrus is reading the fine print of the Nimzonia - Indian Casino Operator Mutual Protection Treaty to make sure of his response. He is waiting for conformation from Rear-Admiral Jakobsson to arm the ASROC torpedos.

Onboard the MMS Paranoia the demoralized sonarman reports 4 new surface contacts. Big, possibly military. CDR Bligh yells at the sonarman "What kind, get on the signature files what is taking so long."

The sonarman wisely didn't say anything about no explosion from the last torpedo. The torpedoman on the weapons console was quiet also.

The sonarman felt obligated to tell the CO about the sonabouys hitting the water and pinging.

LCDR Michelle Pretentious, Ops officer for the MMS Paranoia wishes she was on the MMS Depression. Submarine tactics was her specialty at Post Graduate school and she knew it was just a matter of time before those surface ships started pinging in earnest. They were so close to MMS Paranoia it would take a miracle to save them. She took a short walk down to the torpedo room and asked how many of those "Bligh" specials were left.

The torpedomen said there were two more left. She asked what was wrong with them. They weren't sure but Bligh tinkered with the shape charge and the detonator. They thought he also screwed with the echo locator. She wondered if she would live if they shot her out of the torpedo tube.

The Nimzonian Frigates Mount Krogius, Frost and Darkwind under the command of Commodore Kippe move into position on the right flank of the ICO battle group, awaiting Rear-Admiral Jakobsson's order to begin active pinging.

The destroyer, RNS Typhoon was also moving into the area, to tow RNS Calm Horizons back to port, and take on board survivors of the Blue Peace II from the choppers and whaling vessels aiding in the rescue.

Eventually, Rear-Admiral Jakobsson recieved confirmation that there were no more survivors in the water, and that civillian ships were clearing the area at last, so he ordered all sonars to go active.

Contacting Commore Walrus and Commodore Kippe, he gave his final assessment of the situation, "This submarine, or submarines - there may be more than one, are responsible for the sinking of Blue Peace II, as well as three attempts to sink the whaler Drunken Viking. Damage to RNS Calm Horizons was caused by Blue Peace, and is unrelated. Combine that with the sinking of the Great Spirit, and it looks very much like MadderMike is engaging in submarine warfare against our whaling fleets. I believe we are within our rights to sink the offender, but I would prefer to force them to surface, and take prisoners. You have permission to arm ASROCs; Good hunting, gentlemen."

Flag Commodore Myhre looked over from across the bridge, "Our Seahawks are dropping their sonobuoys - we should get a pretty wide coverage of the area."

Jakobsson nodded, "Good. She's been in the fleet long enough - it's about time RNS Overlord served as something other than a big floating galley."

Onboard the MMS Schizophrenia sonar hears the first loud pings from the destroyers and frigates. The MMS Schizophrenia has been speeding away from the Blue Peace II incident for over 2 hours. She is 50 miles away and there are no ships nearby. Capt Jones feels for the crew of the MMS Paranoia he knows CDR Bligh and there is no way he will escape. Capt Jones isn't sure he could escape from the noose, but he knows he would do better than Bligh even though the Paranoia can dive deeper and for a while go faster. The Paranoia is very quiet Capt Jones has heard the sonar tapes and knows it is quiet. He wishes the best for the crew, not any well being for Bligh though.
---------
Onboard the MMS Paranoia CDR Bligh loads two more MK37 Mod Bligh torpedos and starts to pick out a target. Sonar identifies a Spruance class destroyer probably Indian Casino Operator in origin. CDR Bligh chuckles to himself that this is a target rich environment.

Never once in his lifetime has Bligh questioned his own ability. Never once has he lost any competition. Many were stolen from him due to biased referees, crooked umpires, bad side of the field but never his fault.

The torpedo launch console shows two torpedos ready. CDR Bligh decides to do one at a time.

The senior sonarman onboard the ICOS Bear Chief Ugly Calf was listening with headphones and thought he detected a very quiet submarine. He was matching signals when it seemed as if every ship in the world started to ping. He jumped up tore off the headphones and flipped on the automatic attenuator. "That was loud." Was all he could say when very clearly a subsurface contact appeared on the monitors in the AN/SQQ-89 SONAR SYSTEM console.

The built in data sharing network relayed the information to the other ICOS ships in the task group. Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus had two radiomen searching for the coordinating frequencies to notify the Nimzonian navy.

As soon as they found it they dialed in the frequecies and the network began to transmit data to the Mount Krogius, Frost and Darkwind.

Broken Tooth Walrus began tapping his ceremonial tomahawk on the arm of his commodore's chair. "Its time we scalped some white men."

Martin Shone, now that he was dried off and warming up in the crew's mess onboard the Calm Horizons demanded to know why the Calm Horizons sunk the Blue Peace II. He continued his harangue on the evils of whaling and being attacked on the high seas. Conspicuously absent was any concern about the remaining crew of the Blue Peace II. He demands to speak to the captain of the Calm Horizons again no concern at all about the missing Nimzonian Marines. He did quietly ask one of the crew members where he could get a cell phone to call the various news bureaus.

Captain Thorstvedt's first reaction upon finally meeting Martin Shone, is to shut the idiotic man up, by punching him in the head.

"Now listen carefully, you disrespectful little whelp!" the captain shouted, "You're lucky to be alive, so be quiet, and we can keep it that way. The largest weapon on this ship is a 30mm autocannon. If you think you can prove we blew your barely seaworthy rust-bucket in half with that, then more power to you. However, if I were you, I'd be more concerned about the consequences of your own actions - attacking and damaging a government ship; we're being towed back to Port, in case you hadn't noticed. I suggest you sit down and shut up, if you don't want to be thrown in the bilge for the rest of this trip."

-----

Onboard RNS Mount Krogius, Commodore Kippe looked over the sonarman's shoulder, at the blatant contact on the screen, "Their commander must be asleep at the conn. This is almost too easy."

On the bridge of the RNS Overlord, Flag Commodore Myhre was also recieving the group's sonar information. He contacted the Overlord's number six Seahawk, which was carrying Mk 35 depth charges.

"Either this is a decoy, or they want us to sink them. Stir the water with a depth charge; they must know we have them. Rear-Admiral Jakobsson wants to give them at least one chance to surrender."

Onboard the MMS Paranoia CDR Bligh is about to fire a torpedo when our hapless sonarman reports something in the water, just then the depth charge goes off. It is about 1,000 yards away from the MMS Paranoia. Men are knocked off their feet, anything not properly stowed is flying around the deck, and various pipes are leaking water, hydrolic fluid, or high pressure air. The crew, mostly veterans quickly control the leaks and properly stow the debris.

CDR Bligh is rubbing his hands together in glee. "If its a fight you want, a fight you will get. He pickes the nearest target and fires one of the "Bligh specials". As usual he jumps to the wire guided torpedo control panel and begins his overeager manipulation. He switches the torpedo to active, probably a bit close to his own ship.

LCDR Michelle Pretentious is now back on the bridge. She is beginning to think she should have taken her husband's surname when she got married. She knew she was being posted to CDR Bligh's command and thought the name Christian might put him over the edge. She sees a can of Hersheys Chocolate syrup rolling along the deck and picks it up. It is heavy in her hand. "This could prove useful." she thinks.

After confirming with Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus the CO of the ICOS Wolf retracts the trailing wire and deployes the AN/SLQ-25 NIXIE torpedo counter measures trailing decoy. It is about 1 1/2 nautical miles back when sonar picks up the torpedo fired from the submarine contact. Almost immediately the torpedo goes active.

"What a rube" the sonarman on the ICOS Wolf notes.

The AN/SLQ-25 NIXIE automatically picks up the sound of the active torpedo pinging and amplifies it and retransmitts the signal back to the torpedo.

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus apologizes to Rear-Admiral Jakobsson for not waiting for his ok to deploy the countermeasure trailing decoy but felt expediency was called for.

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson listened to the reports coming in from the various task-force units. He shook his head, "What kind of tinpot navy are we dealing with here? Their CO must be insane; I wouldn't trust him to swab the decks, let alone command a submarine."

He addressed the fleet, "They've had their chance to surrender, and spat it back in our faces. You are authorised to neutralise this threat by any and all means necessary; remember, there is no overkill - there is only 'open fire' and 'time to reload'."

He turned back to Flag-Commodore Myhre, "The Fleet Marshall was saying that we need to do something to justify our naval budget; if we use enough torpedoes to hit every hole twice, then they'll be getting their money's worth."

There was a round of laughter on the bridge, before Jakobsson continued, "No more chances; this time we blow them out of the water."

The Bligh special heads right for the countermeasures decoy. When it gets close the detonator is triggered and with a little fzzzpht the warhead falls off. CDR Bligh waiting to hear the explosion slams his fist down on the control panel. He hits the trigger mechanism designed to blow up errant wire guided torpedoes and for the first time one of his torpedoes actually makes an explosion. It bounces the decoy out of the water but does no real damage.

LCDR Michelle Pretentious is silently praying for one more depth charge and she will live up to her husband's namesake.

Unbelievably Bligh still has the submarine at periscope depth. It is sheer luck that positions the MMS Paranoia directly between the ICOS Wolf and the RMS Mount Krogius. At this close range (about 3,000 yards from either ship) firing an ASROC might not be a good idea.

Bligh is slumped over the torpedo control panel yelling into the sound powered phones to load another Bligh special. Torpedo is trying to explain there is no more Bligh specials and the one left in the number two tube is jammed and cannot be moved forward or backward.

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus watches the countermeasures decoy pop out of the water and realizes the submarine is playing for keeps. He gets the updates from combat and decides it would be a bad idea to fire an ASROC torpedo this close to the RMS Mount Krogius.

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus comments to Commander Sly Wolverine, the CO of the ICOS Wolf "I want to get this submarine before the Nimzonians. We have had some bad luck lately and I want them to know we are good sailors. "

***Michaelgrad Eyewitless News Broadcast***

Mike Squarejaw: "We interrupt this broadcast of the "Simpsons" to report a huge blast has occured in the heart of downtown Michaelgrad."

Michelle Blondgoodface: "Yes, Mike the first reports are that a four block section of downtown Michaelgrad suffered a catastrophic explosion causing the entire area to sink 7 stories underground. Our cameras are on their way to the scene."

Mike Squarejaw: "Reports from as far away as the Michael mountains have felt the blast and siesmographs have recorded this event on the Northern Coast. Where exactly in Michaelgrad did this occur, Michelle?"

Michelle Blondgoodface: "The area is around First Avenue and Kay Street, Mike. This area is a gathering point for homeless, crack addicts, prostitues and others. But the bigger news is that directly underneath this area is the MadderMikian government offices. The offices of the Prime Minister for Life Mike Oldsmobile and his senior staff."

Mike Squarejaw: "Didn't we do a story on those offices last month?"

Michelle Blondgoodface: "Yes we did. We did an exposé on the best spot for a terrorist to cripple the government. I believe we showed the exact spot to place a bomb to take out the Prime Minister."

Mike Squarejaw: "I remember now, didn't we show the security breaches and how to get around all of the security forces?"

Michelle Blondgoodface: "Exactly, it was a good piece."

Mike Squarejaw: "We will return you to the "Simpsons" and we will interrupt at the most inopportune time to give you more news and show you how handsome and pretty we are."

Commodore Kippe on the RNS Mount Krogius was still peering over the sonarman's shoulder, "Really, this has to be some kind of joke. All these ships we've got out here, for this guy? This isn't a job for the navy; someone should send the police out to arrest them. A vice squad, by the look of what their CO must be smoking."

The crew on the bridge waited expectantly for orders.

"Are the anti-torpedo countermeasures deployed?"

"Yes, sir."

Kippe strolled across the bridge, to look out the front window across the bow of the ship.

"Conn, change course to 40 degrees relative; we'll clear the area for the indians to use their ASROCs."

The conning officer nodded, and turned to the helm, "Right 10 degrees rudder, steady course zero-four-zero relative."

Kippe got on the radio to RNS Overlord and ICOS Bear, and confirmed the maneouver.

Two of the Overlord's Seahawks, still circling in the area, dropped another pair of depth charges, to keep the submarine busy, and distract them from the maneouvering of the surface ships.

The MMS Paranoia is rocked by two huge explosions nearby. The force of the concussions roll the submarine 25 degrees to port. Material, foodstuffs and other items even if properly stowed break free from their stowage points and fly around the interior of the MMS Paranoia. Various pipes break spewing fluids, high pressure air and hydraulic fluid around the sub. The crew is slipping and dodging high pressure air leaks trying to control the damage.

The hapless sonarman notices CDR Bligh lying on the deck of the control room quivering in some sort of spasm. He was apparently clobbered with a flying can of Hersheys Chocolate Syrup. The sonarman shouts to LCDR Michelle Pretentious that the Commanding Officer is incapacitated. In a loud voice LCDR Michelle Pretentious announces the CO is out of action and as the senior line officer present she has temporarily assumed command.

She quickly orders the sub to dive deep, come left 90 degrees and increase to flank speed. She orders the three remaining torpedo tubes loaded with MK 48 ADCAP torpedos. She orders several cans of oil, bits of rags and bubble wrap to be loaded into the trash ejector and has the stuff ejected with a large blast of air. She knows this won't fool them for long but she desperately needs some time.

She asks sonar if they recorded any subsurface density layers, temperature inversions anything to help them. Sonar reports that Bligh had all of the monitoring devices shut off to minimize noise. She hopes the can of syrup killed the idiot.

Commander Spotted Mink CO of ICOS Bear has been watching the RNS Mount Krogius turn and open the attack area. The ICOS Wolf has moved forward away from the most likely spot the enemy sub was lurking.

The senior sonarman onboard the ICOS Bear Chief Ugly Calf reports "Subsurface contact moving out and diving sir! Lots of cavitation, it is turning towards the east.

Commander Spotted Mink "The nearest friendly is 4,000 yards away. Set the MK 46 torpedo to run at 300 feet or more depth. Launch one torpedo at the best insertion point. "

A flash and roar from the ASROC launcher and the rocket is away. It splashes down right on target.

A few seconds later Chief Ugly Calf reports torpedo active, submarine contact moving fast.

***Michaelgrad Eyewitless News Broadcast***

Mike Squarejaw: "There have been no communications from the Office of the Prime Minister on this latest explosion tragedy."

Michelle Blondgoodface: "Well, Mike that might be because the government offices were blown up."

Mike Squarejaw: "This just in - There appears to be a high level meeting at the compound of Mike Frod CEO of Frod Motors. Witnesses report seeing Mike Kingnerd of Mike-O-Soft Software, Mike Hearst CEO of most of the MadderMike newspapers and three of the 5 major TV networks, Mike Comstock owner of the majority of gold, uranium, coal, and diamond mines in MadderMike and Clydebank Shipyards and Mike of Mike and Mike Shipping, owners of all the shipping interests in MadderMike. These are the remaining 5 co-Prime-Ministers of MadderMike."

Michelle Blondgoodface: "Yes, Mike these were the leaders Mike Oldsmobile pushed aside when he became Prime Minister for life. What do you think is going on?"

Mike Squarejaw: "We'll let you know at 11:00 so we can push the ratings up. Until then buy lots of beer."

The Nimzonian frigates come left again, slightly, as the subsurface contact dives and starts to move east. Rear-Admiral Jakobsson is concerned that the submarine may attempt to head east, and then turn south around Iceland, and escape into the atlantic, assuming it somehow manages to avoid all the firepower currently focused on it; he notes that, considering the odd behaviour previously displayed by the sub, it would appear that they are either supremely confident of their capability, or supremely stupid. He indicates to Commodore Walrus and Commodore Kippe his intention to move the southernmost flank of the task force forward, to deny the sub any potential for an escape to the south.

Sonar on the Paranoia reports torpedo in the water coming fast. LCDR Pretentious asks "Any ideas on layers to protect our A**?" Sonar reports possibility of one at 500 feet.

LCDR Pretentious " That is deeper than our supposed test depth. Well I would rather be crushed to death than shot out of the water. Take us to 480 and see what the torpedo does.

After what seems to be an eternity,
Sonar "Torpedo still active and is dropping depth to match us."

Dive Officer comming to 480 feet Ma'am"

LCDR Pretentious "Very well, drop two decoy flares and dive to 520 feet and come right 90 degrees. What is our speed?"

Chief of the Boat "27 Knots Ma'am"

LCDR Pretentious "Damn we need more speed. Tell engineering we need all she has."

Chief of the Boat "Aye Captain" When he says that the crew members in the control room note that the COB never called Bligh "Captain".

Five long minutes pass ---------

LCDR Pretentious "Sonar what is the torpedo doing?"

Sonar "It is still above 500 feet and is heading for the noisemakers."

Another explosion rocks the submarine but not nearly as bad as the depth charges.

LCDR Pretentious "Was that the torpedo?"

Sonar "Must be, there is no more active torpedo pinging. Still plenty of action from the surface and there are more sona-bouys than you can shake a stick at."

Commander Spotted Mink CO of ICOS Bear is consulting with the senior sonarman onboard the ICOS Bear Chief Ugly Calf. "What happened to the torpedo?" Chief Ugly Calf replies "It must have detonated on a decoy, sir."

CDR Spotted Mink says "I think someone else is driving that sub. They are doing things smarter. We have to neutralize it now, we can't count on dud torpedos forever." He gets on the comm link and suggests to Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus to request from Rear-Admiral Jakobsson that all seven ships fire ASROCs some at 300 feet some at 400 feet and some at 550 feet.

Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus reminds Commander Spotted Mink that Rear-Admiral Jakobsson gave the order to open fire. Commodore Broken Tooth Walrus reminds the Indian commanders of their orders." The Bear, the Wolf, the Hawk, and the Falcon each fire an ASROC at the last known sub location. Two are set for 300 feet and two at 500 feet. He asks the task command on the RNS Overlord,if there are any more depth charges left, one set at 500 feet will give the surface sonars a good picture of where that sub is.

OOC: Sorry I haven't posted in ages; getting on the forums has been a real nightmare lately.

-----

Flag Commodore Myhre reports that three of the Overlord's Seahawks are still carrying depth charges; one is heading back to the carrier to be re-equipped, and the rest are carrying torpedoes, and will wait for a clear contact. He comments, "I'd say we've got enough firepower out there to make plenty enough noise."

Myhre has one Seahawk drop a depth charge set to detonate at 500 feet, at the last known contact point for the submarine. The other two move a few hundred yards further east, and drop two depth charges each set at 450 and 550 feet.

OOC: Sorry I haven't posted in ages; getting on the forums has been a real nightmare lately.

OOC: I understand completely. I have been averaging 7 to 15 tries to get to the next action forums...search....so on.

IC: Onboard the MMS Paranoia LCDR Pretentious gets a report from sonar "Two torpedoes in the water." Followed by "Two more" She checks the visual displays and calculates the first set of torpedos will arrive in about 3 minutes. The second set about one minute after that.

LCDR Pretentious orders "Left full rudder, Drop two noisemakers, come up to 430 feet." As soon as she gets verbal conformation of her orders two depth charges detonate. Everyone not strapped in is knocked to the deck. pipes snap electrical junction boxes pop off the bulkheads with sparks flying. Steam, water, high pressure air, and hydraulic fluid leaks are everywhere. The crew is just trying to contain the leaks. Several crew members are burned or cut. The corpsman is patching them up as best as he can.

The Dive officer reports coming to 430 feet. Sonar reports the second two torpedoes are homing and are aimed directly at them. LCDR Pretentious orders "Right full rudder, drop two more noise makers. Come up to 100 feet."

The Engineering watch reports the hydrogen ion exchanger is getting hot. LCDR Pretentious asks how hot. The reply is "Red Hot, if you turn out the lights it glows." She asks what the manual says. The reply is "If this happens shut down immediately ." She replies "That is not an option, pour water over it and pray." She thinks to herself "At sometime or other all sailors find God."

OOC: More to follow.

***Main Teepee Network News***
Chancellor of the University of Main Tepee Dr. Pesky Gnat, has announced a substantial grant from the Main Teepee Casino to establish a Joint International Commission on the study of large marine mammals. The co-members of this Commission will be from the Nimzonian academic community.

The purpose of this commission is to determine as accurately and scientifically as possible the size, make-up and the reasonable harvest numbers for this natural renewable resource.

Dr. Whale Fluke, Professor of Cetacean Studies will head up the Academic Expedition and will set forth a scientific study to provide an unbiased census of the whale population. The government of Indian Casino Operator will provide three research ships and extended time on the Spyglass satellite. The main areas of study are the Norwegian Sea, Greenland Sea, Barents Sea and the North Atlantic. Baffin Bay and Kara Sea will be included if time permits.

The third depth charge goes off and it is almost directly under the MMS Paranoia. The crew is knocked to the deck once again and ominous sounds are coming from engineering. LCDR Pretentious asks sonar about the torpedoes.

Sonar responds "The two deep torpedoes are still tracking onto the noisemakers. The two up here are tracking us! We are cavitating severely."

LCDR Pretentious "Very well, rudder amidships and dive to 300 feet. Drop three noise makers 5 seconds apart."

Engineering reports the water on the hydrogen Ion exchanger is cooling it a bit but now an awful smell is eminating from the entire unit.

The active pinging from the combined task force and the sona-bouys is working on everyone's nerves. LCDR Pretentious looks at the tactical display and directs the helmsman to steer in the general direction of the nearest surface ship. She is hoping they are trailing torpedo decoys and that it might attract the hot torpedoes.

She does a quick mental calculation that they are going 27 knots, it is 6 nautical miles to the nearest surface ship, at 27 knots they cover about 900 yards a minute that would make it about 13 minutes to get to the decoy. Hopefully the torpedoes would have to cover much more distance recovering from the noisemakers.

She cursed Bligh, if that idiot had gone deep after he fired the dud torpedoes they might have had a chance. Her first command and she was probably going to be blown to smithereens, or worse to surrender.

Onboard the MMS Paranoia engineering reports they are on the EBA and there is black sickening smoke coming out of the hydrogen ion exchanger. LCDR Pretentious knows she needs only a couple of minutes until the surface ships torpedo decoys pick up the torpedoes and attract them to the decoys. It looks like either surrender, or fire one or two torpedoes and then get sunk.

Although she is couragous to a fault, now that she is acting Commanding Officer, the crew is her first concern. She knows what she is to do.

As soon as the decoys pick up the torpedoes and they turn towards the signal she orders engineering to shut down the hydrogen plant, switch to battery power, and surface. She has two sailors designated to climb out of the hatch and wave a white flag.

The safety of the crew will be bought at her expense.

The MMS Paranoia surfaces and the crew members scramble to the sail and fly a white flag. Engineering opens the rear hatch and begin to evacuate with huge clouds of billowing black acrid smoke pouring out of the rear hatch. Ten crewmen covered in soot are standing on the small after deck coughing uncontrollably.

LCDR Pretentious awaits her fate. Her only wish was to be able to fight a duel with the idiot Bligh. She knew she could outshoot him and out fence him if necessary.

Onboard RNS Mount Krogius, sonar recorded the detonation of the depth charges, and again reported the subsurface contact, this time heading back towards the task force, at flank speed.

"What are they doing now?" wondered Commodore Kippe, aloud.

The sonar chief shrugged, not realising that the question was rhetorical, and that Kippe was already making up his mind about what was going on, "Trying to take one of us down with them, I'd say."

"Yes," Kippe nodded, "That's what it looks like. But their behaviour has been very unorthodox."

He contacted the torpedo room, "Load two torpedoes, and stand by."

The sonar chief spoke up again, "They're reducing speed... and surfacing..."

Kippe scratched his head, and contacted the Mount Krogius' Seahawk, for confirmation.

"Yeah, they're surfacing alright," came the response, "Looks like they've got a fire or something, judging by the smoke - they're waving a white flag now."

"Surrendering?" Kippe pondered. With a shrug, he forwarded the information to RNS Overlord.

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson was suspicious, especially since the sub had had ample opportunity, not to mention ample justification, to surrender previously. He took the radio and warned the task force to be wary of any cheap shots the sub might have left, and asked for confirmation of the vessel's nationality and class.

OOC: Woohoo! I successfully evaded the forum monster that has been eating all my previous posts...

OOC: Glad you could make it, *whispers so as not to wake the angry forum Gods* the last two days things have been working better.

IC: Onboard the MMS Paranoia the black smoke billowing from the after hatch has picked up in intensity and now has obscured the after portion of the sub. LCDR Pretentious orders abandon ship and the few life rafts available are thrown into the water and begin to inflate.

The Paranoia shudders and a muffled explosion knocks the crewmembers on the aft of the sub into the water. Smoke is now coming out of the hatch on the sail. Sailors are jumping into the water and swimming for the life rafts. They are clinging onto the life rafts and drifting further away from the stricken sub.

A lone figure appears on the sail of the submarine. His head is covered in bandages and he has a rifle in his hands. He begins shooting at the RNS Mount Krogius, then he turns his attention to the swimming sailors and begins to shoot at them.

One of the swimming sailors looks at the sub and turns to LCDR Pretentious and says "Bligh, is he trying to get all of us killed?" LCDR Pretentious pulls a 10mm pistol out of her belt, dumps the water out of it and begins to shoot at Bligh. LCDR Pretentious is an expert shot and has won many competitions back home in MadderMike. It is difficult to get an accurate shot off when you are bouncing around clinging to a life raft but she manages to hit the sail close to Bligh twice. He ducks down into the interior of the sub.

A much larger explosion rocks the Paranoia, the wind is now blowing the smoke away from the after hatch and somehow it closes. Amazingly, and quite obviously the ballast tanks are vented and the sub begins to submerge, or sink it is hard to tell.

Onboard the ICOS Bear closest Indian Casino Operator ship to the sub, the CO Commander Spotted Mink is watching the unfolding drama on the Paranoia through the large binoculars mounted to the wing of the bridge. As soon as he sees the crazed, bandaged man shooting first at the RNS Mount Krogius. then at his own crew, he orders the 5" rapid-fire gun to target the sub. Commander Spotted Mink gives the order to fire at will. He hopes they don't hit any of the stranded crew members clinging to the life rafts but, he is willing to take the responsibility.

The gun begins to fire in a rhythm, and with deadly accuracy.

Two of the 5" shells rip holes in the sail of the MMS Paranoia just before she slips beneath the surface.

On board the Mount Krogius, Commodore Kippe watched in fascination as a few rounds pinged harmlessly off the frigate's hull. He took his elaborate brass telescope, and peered at the sub. Now the survivors seemed to be shooting at each other.

"If that sub isn't MadderMikian, then I'm the King of France." he said, and passed the telescope to the conning officer, who had a look.

"No wonder they were behaving so oddly, if that's what was going on onboard." The conning officer noted, "I'd heard rumours about MadderMike, but I thought that was all a stereotype."

"They're all like that, from what I hear." the Sonar chief spoke up, "Even little old ladies go down to the shops with rocket launchers in their handbags."

There were a few chuckles. The helmsman added, "Yeah, and children's playgrounds come complete with barbed wire and foxholes."

Kippe was about to order the Mount Krogius' Seahawk to return fire with its machinegun, but then he heard the steady hammering of the gun on the ICOS Bear, and decided any more would be overkill.

"She's going back under." commented the conning officer, who was still looking through Kippe's telescope. He handed it back, "All the crew appear to be in the water, though, so I wouldn't expect a threat."

Kippe collapsed the telescope, and put it back in its case, "Very well. Stand by to pick up the survivors. I can't wait to hear what they've got to say for themselves."

The crew-members of the ill fated MMS Paranoia were consoling LCDR Pretentious. Not because the sub caught fire, not because she lost the sub, not because they were swimming in freezing waters, but because they knew she was distraught that she didn't get Bligh. The comments ranged from "You were clinging on to the raft with one hand, shooting with the other", "Bligh didn't do any better and he had a rifle and much more stable platform"

The sonarman said "You did bounce a few rounds off the sail." the COB said "I think if you had another shot you would have gotten him." The chief torpedoman quipped "I was wondering what you were using when that 5" shell the Indians shot hit the sail, it was a thing of beauty."

The other crewmen chuckled at that one. LCDR Pretentious let a smile cross her face and added "Yeah, I was wondering myself what was going on."

"So there it is" she thought, "I finally get a command at sea, under suspicious circumstances, loose my ship not to enemy fire, and wind up swimming in the cold Norwegian sea. " As strange as it seems she takes comfort in the crew's attempts to confirm her shooting ability. To a MadderMikian that is the highest complement.

The Diving officer LTJG Mike Bubblehead sums up the crew's feelings "Ma'am if we get out of this alive I would be honored to serve in your next command."

The crew-members of the ill fated MMS Paranoia were consoling LCDR Pretentious. Not because the sub caught fire, not because she lost the sub, not because they were swimming in freezing waters, but because they knew she was distraught that she didn't get Bligh. The comments ranged from "You were clinging on to the raft with one hand, shooting with the other", "Bligh didn't do any better and he had a rifle and much more stable platform"

The sonarman said "You did bounce a few rounds off the sail." the COB said "I think if you had another shot you would have gotten him." The chief torpedoman quipped "I was wondering what you were using when that 5" shell the Indians shot hit the sail, it was a thing of beauty."

The other crewmen chuckled at that one. LCDR Pretentious let a smile cross her face and added "Yeah, I was wondering myself what was going on."

"So there it is" she thought, "I finally get a command at sea, under suspicious circumstances, loose my ship not to enemy fire, and wind up swimming in the cold Norwegian sea. " As strange as it seems she takes comfort in the crew's attempts to confirm her shooting ability. To a MadderMikian that is the highest complement.

The Diving officer LTJG Mike Bubblehead sums up the crew's feelings "Ma'am if we get out of this alive I would be honored to serve in your next command."

As the Nimzonian ships prepared to recieve survivors of the MMS Paranoia, marines were warned to keep searching any prisoners until they had found and confiscated at least two firearms. Commodore Kippe himself wouldn't be satisfied until they'd all been X-rayed, but you worked with what means you had.

Nimzonian Seahawks hovered over the survivors in the water, ready to pick them up. One emitted a loudspeaker message, "Survivors of hostile submarine, you may consider yourselves prisoners of war. Lay down any and all weapons you may posess, and prepare to be taken on board. Any resistence or perceived resistence will be met with lethal force. You have been warned."

OOC Post

I haven't got round to updating my region map, but I've made two largely featureless (and some would say, a waste of bandwidth) maps, of the two island provinces acquired by Nimzonia round about the end of March.

http://jupiter.walagata.com/w/fricasso/NS_Map4.jpg

http://jupiter.walagata.com/w/fricasso/Ns_map_5.jpg

Not much to say. Wodenreijk is a frozen rock with a small (5-10,000 pop) fishing community, and a naval base. Angelsreijk is a bit more populous, about 2-3 million people, with a reasonable military presence also, and is largely agricultural, being the furthest south of the Nimzonian provinces. Both islands are about 40,000 square km. (or at least, they should be).

After agreeing (as best as they could) to the demands being broadcast over the bullhorn the MadderMikian sailors were being hauled into the hovering Seahawk helicopters. The sailors as they were brought aboard dropped their various weapons on the deck of the bouncing helo.

There was a pile of 9mm, 10mm, some .44 magnums, a couple of Desert Eagles, a pair of matching pearl handled .45s, a balanced, ported, laser sighted 9mm, and amazingly enough a percussion cap muzzle loaded pistol about 2 feet long and weighing at least 9 pounds. This after rescuing only 5 sailors.

The sailors sitting glumly in the back of the seahawk began to talk to the Nimzonian sailor working the winch. "Hey you ought to get rid of that standard issue Smith and Wesson 9mm." "Yeah, those pearl handled .45s are worth $1,500 each." "No, No, go with the balanced and vented 9mm it has a competition barrel and the slide is titanium." "At least get the 10mm or the Desert Eagles."

In the Nimzonian - Greenland Straight

A convoy of 10 container ships with construction equipment, 3 arsenal ships, 2 Nimitz class carriers, 10 Spruance class destroyers, 7 Ticonderoga crusers, 2 Burke class cruisers, 2 Seawolf submarines, 4 LHAs, 5 Supply class fast replenishment ships all flying the MadderMike flag are moving north at 13 knots.

Overlord No. 4 Seahawk

The sailor mannng the winch shrugged, "New standard issue's supposed to be H&K USPs, but we haven't received ours yet."

The sailor collecting, unloading, and bagging the surrendered weapons nodded, "'s a good piece of kit, the USP. Not like it'd do you much good against a destroyer, though. Of course, I'd rather we went back to HP-35s - that was a real gun. Best 9mm ever made, if you ask me. The army still get to keep theirs. Bastards."

He picked up the pearl handled .45s, and whistled, "These are nice. 45s, though? We're going to be on 9mm for the next hundred thousand years, with all the ammo we've got lying around." He looked over the weapons again, before shoving them in the bag, "The commodore'll have these, I reckon."

Then he picked up the muzzle loader, and pulled a face, "What the hell is this supposed to be? I mean, come on, seriously, how did you manage to float carrying this thing?"


Greenland strait

A lone JAS-39 'Gripen' flew parallel to the Nimzonian coast, just outside of sea-sparrow range from the MadderMikian fleet. Not that it was supposed to be any kind of deterrent; just a simple reminder that the guard dog was awake, and watching. 'We know you're there', it seemed to say, 'Behave.'

Port Odea

Fleet Marshall Folkvadr reclined in his seat, looking at a report, while the young seaman who delivered it stood nearby waiting to be dismissed.

"I expect they're heading to Man Jayen." mused the Fleet Marshall, "General Jaarinen won't be best pleased. From what I hear, he was just about ready to carpet bomb Man Jayen for letting MadderMike into the arctic."

The sailor stood in silence, waiting to be dismissed. Folkvadr laid the report down on his desk.

"Oh well, we'll see what the diplomatic corps manages to come up with. Dismissed."

In Koenberg

The MadderMike Procouncil, Mike Sneer, the rough equivilent to the Ambassador to Nimzonia in the absence of an official embassy, was rushing to the Ministry of State building for Nimzonia for a meeting called by the assistant Minister of State for Nimzonia.

Sneer had spent his entire Foreign Service making life miserable for the politically appointed Ambassador to whatever MadderMikian embassy he was sent to. He was gratious to their faces but was always inciting the embassy staff, slowing work down, complaining how a career Foreign Service member should be the Ambassador not some political hack. He was popular among the staff members at the expense of the political appointee. Now he found himself in the reverse roll. By some quirk of fate Mike Oldsmobile had sent him to this frozen wasteland as the senior diplomat until an official embassy could be arranged. Sneer hated the cold, he had managed to finagle his way to some of the most beautiful places in the world.

He was sweating despite the brisk air, he didn't know for sure why he was summoned. He suspected it had to do with the news reports of the sinking of a rogue MadderMikian submarine accused of attempting to sink whalers and possibly sinking the Blue Peace II freighter. He now wishes he had paid attention when various Ambassadors had worked their way through this type of crisis. He had been so busy pointing out errors and lapses in manners, he hadn't watched the real business of the embassy.

He was sure of one thing, Government or no Government, failure in international affairs was harshly punished. If he screwed this up an easy retirement was a puff of smoke in a Nimzonian gale.

In the Greenland Strait

Two F18s from the Nimitz class carrier MMS Megalomania were being vectored to be between the Nimzonian JAS-39 Gripen and the fleet. Two more fighters, F35s from the MMS Oldsmobile were being directed in behind the JAS-39. All carefully within international airspace.

The two big carriers and some of the air screen ships picked up speed to launch more aircraft. Two tankers were launched, two more F18s and another E-2C Hawkeye. The three arsenal ships were at battle stations.

Port Odea

Fleet Marshall Folkvadr was reading the latest report from Rear-Admiral Jakobsson.

"Hah!" he exclaimed abruptly, making his secretary jump, "I thought they might try it again! Let's see how they wriggle their way out of this diplomatic mess, after the incident with the MMS Schizophrenia, and that transparent treaty with Man Jayen."

After a while, he decided it might be wise to keep his forces at a higher state of readiness; currently around half the Nimzonian navy was sitting around in dockside bars and brothels, and generally wasting the government's time.

He ordered Fleets Aether and Boreas moved to full readiness, and prepared to move out of port at a moment's notice. Fleets Corona, Dione and Eos were put on standby, and he had all personnel attached to fleets Glaucus, Hydra and Io recalled from leave.

Of course, he considered, there probably wouldn't be much call for that degree of force, but he wanted to play with his toys, dammit, and this was as close as he'd got to having a war with someone in ages.


Northern Nimzonia

Air bases and defence batteries were likewise put on standby, although no aircraft were launched.

Air Marshall Gothenstein didn't share Fleet Marshall Folkvadr's enthusiasm, and was pretty confident that the Maddermikian vessels wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything within striking range of the largest air force in the arctic. He chuckled to himself, as he likened the situation to pulling a sleeping Frost Giant's beard.


Koenberg

General Jaarinen had returned from his castle on the west coast, to attend some matters of state. With the news that a MadderMikian submarine had been sunk while attacking the fishing fleet, and that MadderMikian naval activity in the area was expected to increase, various senior ministers had been told to drop everything, and return to Koenberg.

Dr Mennstein, the foreign secretary, briefed the ministers on the current situation between MadderMike and Man Jayen.

"Mutual protection?" Scoffed the Vice President, "What manner of 'protection' can Man Jayen possibly provide MadderMike, and what assets does MadderMike need to protect in this region of the world?"

"I think we can all safely agree that the treaty is just an excuse for Man Jayen to slash their defense budget and gain a few other assorted economic bonuses, in return for giving MadderMike somewhere to hide their subs away when they've finished attacking our whalers." concluded General Jaarinen.

"This is outrageous!" the mister of defence grumbled, "That Man Jayen should make such a treaty with MadderMike, of all countries. Who do they need protection from? Us? They will if-"

General Jaarinen raised a hand to cut short the minister's rant, "We will deal with them later. Man Jayen is hardly a threat. Once the prisoners from the submarine have been... extensively interrogated, perhaps we shall learn more about the situation."

Dr Mennstein continued, "We cannot allow MadderMike a naval base in the arctic; it could destablise the whole region. They clearly have no legitimate reason to place forces here, and the recent incidents with MadderMikian submarines, and Indian Casino Operator and our whaling vessels, only serve to compound the crime. We should demand that the joint naval base near Jayen city be scrapped."

"And if they don't..." The minister of defence banged his fist on the table, "War! We can use this incident with the submarine as justification to occupy Man Jayen, and I'll be damned if MadderMike has the power projection to stop us!"

General Jaarinen raised his hand, "Patience. We will demand that they cease naval operations against our whaling fleet, and revoke their treaty with Man Jayen. I expect we can count on the support of the Indians in this, and the current... political complications in MadderMike and the LETI region should work to our advantage. Are there any objections?"

A few murmurs went around, but nobody disagreed.

"Good."

----
OOC: I haven't recalculated my military in ages, but given that Nimzonia has a pretty scary economy despite the fact that the government is a bit psychotic and steals everyone's money (I haven't had the option to lower taxes in ages) and tends to spend it on more weapons, I expect it's about 75-100% more potent than that of the USA.

In Koenberg

MadderMike Procouncil, Mike Sneer about to enter the offices of the assistant Minister of State for Nimzonia, when his cell phone rang. He was taken aback by this as he never gave out his number and always blocked it before he called anyone. Even his wife of 20 years didn't know the number.

Timidly he answers the phone "Hello."

The voice on the other end says "This is Mike Bond, Minister of Information and Intelligence, deny everything at first then suggest formalizing relations with Nimzonia. That way we can proceed with any clarifications." The phone went dead.

Sneer, was shaken, here he finally was getting to be a big time diplomat and slowly the realization struck him that he was ill prepared and uncharacteristicly for a MadderMikian, unarmed.

Koenberg

The Nimzonian assistant minister of state for foreign affairs, Gunar Lövborg, was being filled in on the details of the recent cabinet meeting, by Foreign Secretary Dr Mennstein. He was supplied with a map, which had been covered in doodles by the Defense secretary, and some bullet points which Mennstein had scrawled on a beer coaster after the cabinet had adjourned to a tavern.

"These here are our demands, and don't budge an inch." Mennstein asserted, and patted Lövborg on the back. Lövborg adjusted the half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, and examined the map. The Defense secretary had drawn a picture of Mike Oldsmobile getting blown up on it. Lövborg sighed, and wished he could get a transfer back to the Ministry of Entertainment.

Dr Mennstein stepped out of the office, and almost bumped into Mike Sneer in the corridor outside.

"Ah, you must be the MadderMike Procouncil." Mennstein stepped aside, "Go on in."

In Koenberg

MadderMike Procouncil, Mike Sneer recognized the Foreign Secretary, Dr Mennstein. He tried to remember, he thought there was a scandal in Mennstein's past, something to do with an Icelandic sheep and two under-age girls. "Oh well."

Mike thought to himself well they didn't keep him waiting that was a good sign wasn't it. Maybe it was the other way around. As he entered the office he spotted Gunar Lövborg, his face was familiar, Mike couldn't quite place it.

After the usual pleasantries Mike sat down and listened to Gunar explaining about MadderMike Naval Bases in Man Jayen, submarines, whaling vessels, and captured MadderMikian sailors. For the most part it was all news to Mike. He denied any knowledge of a MadderMike base on Man Jayen, which was easy for Mike he didn't even know where Man Jayen was. He also denied anything about attacking whaling vessels and any knowledge about naval maneuvers around Nimzonia. he requested the safe return of any MadderMikian sailors found in the Arctic Ocean. To rescue someone then to hold them as prisoners was the simply unheard of. He did suggest opening an embassy in Nimzonia and a Nimzonian embassy in MadderMike to help ease these tensions.

Then it struck him where he had seen Gunar Lövborg, it was in the mosh pit at a Lizard Tongue concert in Norway. Mike says "I know you, Lizard Tongue international tour, summer of '03, you were with the girl with the green hair and "I love Bluepeace" tattooed on her ...um you know. Was that your daughter?"

Lövborg blinked, hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat, "Uh... I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm sure you must be mistaken."

He shuffled some papers around on his desk distractedly, and then hastily tried to steer the issue back to more comfortable territory.

"Er... and you can't deny that MadderMike is constructing a joint naval base near Jayen city. Not only did Cheiftain Staffanson announce the treaty at a press conference, but we have satellite images of the installation, and sightings of a MadderMikian fleet delivering construction materials to the site."

Talking quickly, he continued to the subject of submarines, "You also can't deny that MadderMikian submarines have been active in the arctic whaling grounds - MMS Schizophrenia was responsible for the sinking of an ICO whaler, and the submarine recently sunk by the joint task force was clearly responsible for the sinking of the Blue Peace II, and the attempted sinking of a Nimzonian whaler."

"Moving to the issue of the captured sailors, whether we are holding them as prisoners of war, or on charges of piracy, depends very much on the level of responsibility your government is prepared to accept for their actions. Either way, they will not be released any time soon, unless the treaty with Man Jayen is declared void."

Lövborg adjusted his spectacles again, and hoped that enough blather would cover his tracks.

In Koenberg

Mike Sneer did remember something about a mutual protection treaty but didn't think it had anything to do with the Arctic he hated with a passion.

He cleared his throat and said "The incident with the Indian whaling vessel was as much their fault as it was MMS Schizophrenia's. That whaler strayed into our exercize area and was struck by a dummy torpedo. We can't help the fact the Indians don't keep their ships in tip-top condition. We did pay restitution for that little mishap.

It was helping Sneer in his arguments that he felt Lövborg was trying to speak from a position of authority. Something Sneer never liked and always tried to reverse positions. If he had noticed the discomfort Lövborg showed when Mike was talking about the Lizard Tongue concert he would have pressed it sooner.

Mike continued "I believe the Indians were the ones that sunk one of your frigates and furthermore the MMS Schizophrenia assisted in rescue operations." He was warming up to the task. The Bluepeace II blew up just as marines from your coastal patrol boat approached the peaceful demonstration. I don't think that was coincidence."

Lövborg didn't immediately speak up so Mike pressed on "The MMS Schizophrenia was in port at Jan Mayen for emergency repairs after getting permission from the Norwegians, at precisely that time, surely your satellite photos would show that." He continued hardly taking a breath, "There were so many ships in that area anyone of them could have fired torpedoes. In fact the lunatics from Bluepeace disabled your coastal patrol boat the Calm something."

"Our submarine surfaced in that area due to engine problems even your news feeds showed clouds of black smoke pouring out of the stricken submarine." Mike said warming up to the task. "We are just beginning to conduct under the ice expeditions with our submarines and we need the base at Man Jayen for scientific explorations." He found himself saying.

Mike knew he had a slight edge for the moment and decided to push for an embassy. "Our Regent has asked that we formalize relations and open respective embassies in our countries. We will be expecting the release of the submarine sailors immediately."

He then remembered his friend that went on the Lizard Tongue concert tour to do a story for VH9, but couldn't sell it because the band was still together and not one of them had committed suicide. Mike commented "I have a friend, Mike Adams, that did a video story of the Lizard Tongue Tour, I'm sure he has some shots of you and your daughter at the concert, I will give him a call to see what he can give me."

Mike sat back waiting for the verbal blast he knew should be coming from Gunar Lövborg.

Koenberg

Lövborg's brows shot together in a sharp frown, and he fumbled around with a cigarette and some matches.

"Stay on the topic at hand, Mr Sneer!" he all but snarled, "Are you saying that the Nimzonian navy is in the habit of blowing up its own marines? I find it no coincidence that the submarine was detected shortly after the sinking of Blue Peace II, when it then proceeded to fire upon a Nimzonian whaling vessel and an Indian warship. And make your mind up whether it was a 'peaceful demonstration' or whether they were lunatic saboteurs."

"As for the location of the MMS Schizophrenia at that time, it is irrelevent; it was clearly a different class of submarine that was sunk, while pursuing a suspiciously similar agenda. How many other submarines do you have stalking our whaling grounds? And for that matter, what was the Schizophrenia doing setting up a practice area in a known whaling ground, without any warning to local shipping? And how exactly did her commander fail to notice the presence of at least two whalers and five military vessels in the area?"

Gunar Lövborg had decided that Mike Sneer was a contemptible little snot, who needed to be dealt with quickly and aggressively, before he got any more rash ideas. He raised his voice slightly, and leaned forward.

"As I said previously, the captured sailors will be going nowhere. Their vessel was sunk by Nimzonian and Indian warships while attacking civilian vessels in the whaling grounds. We have even recovered an unexploded torpedo fired by the submarine from the whaling vessel that was attacked, and it was a model not in use by either the Nimzonian or Indian Casino Operator navies."

"Is the MMS Megalomania aiding in your scientific explorations? Or the MMS Oldsmobile? What kind of scientific expeditions require a carrier group? For what possible purpose does MadderMike need a carrier group in the arctic? There is nothing scientific about this naval base - it is simply a staging point for further agression against our whaling fleet. Or are you going to threaten some of our other assets as well? Against whom does MadderMike require the forward power projection of a carrier group in the arctic?"

Lövborg dismissed the request for an embassy, "What do we stand to gain from establishing an embassy in a country with no government? It will take too long for the political situation in MadderMike to resolve sufficiently for us to know who we are dealing with - we want this situation dealt with immediately." Lövborg pounded his fist on the table, "We demand the removal of MadderMikian naval forces from the arctic, cessation of hostilities against our whaling fleet, and cancellation of the mutual protection treaty with Man Jayen."


OOC: How much information have Nimzonian interrogators managed to prize out of the crew of MMS Paranoia?

At Kjorstvik Air Force Base

The MadderMikians have settled into the daily routine of prison life. The get up get a meal of fish soup, get interrogated, exercise, lunch of fish sticks, get interrogated, dinner of fish stew, then lockdown. The Nimzonian interrogators have heard the same story over and over. CDR Bligh was the CO, he didn't tell anyone what he was doing, he was an idiot each session was a broken record.

The interrogators tried to be nice guys and ask about families, life in MadderMike and all they heard was about guns, guns, and more guns. Finally one of the interrogators found out most of the MadderMikians lived underground, that the prison wasn't so bad, it was just like at home. He moved a few sailors into a greenhouse with 360 degree windows. He allowed them to exercize out in the fresh air in the open area of the drill grounds. He noticed they started to watch their backs, nervously eyeing every new arrival, every person walking by.

He then asked these few how they felt with their new quarters and freedoms. They replied how naked they felt out in the open with no weapons handy. They began to answer some questions about Bligh and the MMS Paranoia. They even acknowledged it was a new hydrogen fuel cell prototype submarine.

Kjorstvik air force base

The Nimzonian interrogators seem very interested in Bligh. They ask the prisoners why they feel he was an idiot, what he did, and what he didn't do. They ask what the mission objectives were, and how closely Bligh followed them. They ask about the torpedo that was recovered, intact, with the words "Bligh Special" painted on it. A lot of other questions about operating procedures, and other such points of interests are shuffled into the mix, in the hopes that getting the sailors to bust all the dirt on Bligh will cause them to let slip a few other things as well.

OOC:Trying to load one crappy map:

http://www.photodump.com/direct/ekimspellmage/Maddermike.jpg

In Koenberg

Sneer answers in his normal grating voice "The matter of the Bluepeace II while tragic for Bluepeace and sadly for your missing marines is no great loss, you can claim it was some invisible submarine and in these troubled times who is to know what truly happened. In all no one will miss the Bluepeace IIWe all saw your films of the Nimzonian coastal patrol vessel the Calm Horizons being attacked an put out of commission by the Bluepeacers"

He continues "The MMS Megalomania and the MMS Oldsmobile task forces is simply a matter of continuing training missions away from the powder keg of LETI, where any large movement of ships can be construed as an act of war."

"Our mutual protection treaty with Man Jayen , what you characterized as destablizing the region, in fact is quite the opposite. Your own newpapers are reporting that officials "High in the Nimzonian Government" are proposing bombing Man Jayen back to the stone age."

With that Sneer got up and excused himself with "I will convey your concerns to our government and we will get back to you."

As soon as Sneer was clear of the govenment buildings he called his friend the video photographer and had photos of Lövborg emailed to his house. He remembered reading a report on how corrupt the government of Nimzonia was and knew he could use that to his advantage.

MadderMikians who succeeded were either very smart, very lucky or usually both. Sneer wasn't that smart but lucky he was. His whole working career he worked at uncovering dirt on his own bosses, he now realized he could do the same on the Nimzonians and use it to further his and if it so happened his country's objectives.

In Koenberg

Sneer answers in his normal grating voice "The matter of the Bluepeace II while tragic for Bluepeace and sadly for your missing marines is no great loss, you can claim it was some invisible submarine and in these troubled times who is to know what truly happened. In all no one will miss the Bluepeace IIWe all saw your films of the Nimzonian coastal patrol vessel the Calm Horizons being attacked an put out of commission by the Bluepeacers"

He continues "The MMS Megalomania and the MMS Oldsmobile task forces is simply a matter of continuing training missions away from the powder keg of LETI, where any large movement of ships can be construed as an act of war."

"Our mutual protection treaty with Man Jayen , what you characterized as destablizing the region, in fact is quite the opposite. Your own newpapers are reporting that officials "High in the Nimzonian Government" are proposing bombing Man Jayen back to the stone age."

With that Sneer got up and excused himself with "I will convey your concerns to our government and we will get back to you."

As soon as Sneer was clear of the govenment buildings he called his friend the video photographer and had photos of Lövborg emailed to his house. He remembered reading a report on how corrupt the government of Nimzonia was and knew he could use that to his advantage.

MadderMikians who succeeded were either very smart, very lucky or usually both. Sneer wasn't that smart but lucky he was. His whole working career he worked at uncovering dirt on his own bosses, he now realized he could do the same on the Nimzonians and use it to further his and if it so happened his country's objectives.

Koenberg

Lövborg scowled at the door for a while, and stubbed out his cigarette. Then he picked up the phone and called his brother, who just happened to be the deputy head of Republic Intelligence.

"Aaron? Remember that trip to Norway last year?"

-----

As Mike Sneer headed off through the streets of Koenberg, there seemed to be a lot of large gentlemen in suits hanging around nonchalently. They watched him as he walked past them, and then muttered into their lapels. One man, sitting on a park bench, peered at Mike through eyeholes in his newspaper.

In Koenberg

Sneer walked down the chilly streets of Koenberg and and tried to use his cell phone. He cursed the interference and whacked it with his hand. That seemed to clear it up some but not enough. Oblivious to the large men in "Men-R-Us" off the shelf suits wandering about, he sat down on a park bench opposite the man observing him through the eye holes cut in the newspaper. Mike began to take his cell phone apart. While he was doing that a very attractive young lady in a very short skirt sat next to him and began feed the ever-present sea gulls.

Mike popped open the case to the cell phone and two small electronic bugs fell out, not recognizing them for what they were, he crushed them under foot cursing the Nimzonian crickets. As he put the phone together the young lady sitting next to him quickly stood up, belted the guy with the eye hole newspaper with her substantial purse, yelling "Pervert!" She then stomped off.

Mike muttered "tsk tsk" under his breath and checked his email with the cell phone. The tiny picture was what he expected and he forwarded it to the Arctic Blue Lips the ultra-liberal newspaper of Koenberg. It was akin to the New York Post only less respected. Thus it has a huge readership.

Mike sent the pictures to the society page editor thinking that Nimzonian government officials, as most government officials anywhere in the world, hate to have their photos in the news. Mike truly believed this was a photo of Lövborg and his daughter and was exposing him to unwanted notoriety and at a Lizard Tongue concert as well.

Mike got up and he and the entourage continued into a heated mall where Mike sat down to a Starblocks coffee and danish while reading a copy of the Arctic Blue Lips.

OOC: So as not to double post look here: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=115462&start=592

<tag>

*tag*

Koenberg, Offices of Martin Johanssen, Editor of Arctic Blue Lips

Martin was hanging upside down from the ceiling. This happened a lot, in his line of work, but the pay was worth it; at least, it was worth it on the days when he didn't have any bruises. At the other end of the office, a large man in a shabby trenchcoat, was setting a golf ball on a tee.

"General Jaarinen did not appreciate your pictures of his son at the Ambassadorial reception for Indian Casino Operator." the man stated in a husky voice, and accepted a golf club handed to him by another large, long coated man.

"Have you any idea why that might be?" the man asked, lining up a drive, aiming squarely at Martin's stomach.

"W-we didn't think there was anything wrong with those pictures!" wailed Martin, "They were just harmless coverage of the event! We even edited out the one of the Defence Secretary blowing his nose on the tableclo-"

THWOCK!

The man swung the golf club, hitting the ball straight at Martin. He tried to turn, and it bounced off his hip, and flew off out the window. There was already a collection of dented golf balls in the square outside.

"Now be careful." the man warned, as he reset the tee with a new ball on it, "One might think your paper was trying to discredit the President's son. Make him look uncultured."

Martin looked around blankly. Then, he half twisted himself around, to where his secretary was hiding behind her desk, "A-Astrid, do you have the photographs of the ICO reception, please?"

The secretary nervously fumbled around in a filing cabinet, before removing a clump of photographs, and shakily holding them in front of Martin's face. After a moment, she turned them upside down for him.

"Hmmm... I still can't see what..." He looked closer, "Oh, he's using the wrong fork for the third fish course?"

"We can't be having our beloved president's only son looking like an uncultured fool, because spies and anarchists have plotted to lay the table incorrectly, now can we?"

"Uh... uh..." Martin looked nervously at the golf ball on the tee, "I... I'm sure we can print an apology... perhaps warn people to watch out for culture saboteurs... um..."

"Now he's getting it!" the man with the golf club grinned, before turning to his lackey, "Untie the man, and give him a cigar!"

Just as the lackey was approaching Martin, the door burst open, as the assistant editor rushed in, a bunch of photos clutched in his hands.

"We just got a great new scoop!" he was already halfway through declaring, flourishing the photos of Lövborg, "You'll never believe thi-"

At this point, he finally took in the situation - the large men in trenchcoats, and the fact that Martin Johanssen was hanging upside down from the ceiling. He pulled a pained expression, and shuffled his feet. The two men in trenchcoats exchanged a look, and one of them began producing another length of rope from his coat.

Passers by in the square outside were stopping to watch, as yet more golf balls came flying out the window from the Arctic Blue Lips offices.

The next day, Arctic Blue Lips was back on the shelves, sporting a large advertisment for counter-espionage dinner sets.

In International Waters in the Norwegian Sea

For several days a small ship with a large antenna has been broadcasting top 40 music almost non-stop in the medium wave band. The few commercials have been fun commercials for Coke, Mountain Dew, and Cadbury's chocolates. Most of the ads have been promoting various things people can win by logging into web sites promising little cute prizes.

Today at the lunch hour a DJ starts his spiel "Today we are going to have fun with statistics. Did you know that 40% of the time General Jaarinen's son doesn't know which fork to use at state dinners? This is the same son General Jaarinen is pushing to be his replacement if he should retire. In other news an astonishing 38% of Nimzonian Government officials use their Government issued vehicles for personal uses 24% of the time. They fuel these vehicles at government fuel pumps an unbelievable 100% of the time."

He continues "Our sources say that 18% of high government officials travel to exotic foreign countries like Norway on government expense. We have photos of these officials at rock concerts! Now back to the top 40 hits for the Arctic and beyond.

Koenberg, General Jaarinen's Office

"We've located the source of the signal, to a ship in the Norwegian sea." Admiral Carlsen poked at the map of the arctic, which was spread out on the president's desk. "Now, if that ship suddenly disappears, the whole world will know who did it. We have two subs, RNS Rapid and RNS Lurker on standby in Angelsreijk, if destroying it becomes a necessity."

General Jaarinen nodded, and glared at the other officials present.

"Any suggestions?"

"Um..." the vice president shuffled his feet, "Perhaps this has... uh... damaged Otto's reputation too much... er... Maybe, one of your daughters could succeed you as... uh?"

General Jaarinen shook his head gravely, "No. They're all married to Oil barons and corporate chiefs, and I don't particularly want them getting too big for their boots. No, something will have to be done about Otto."

There was a brief pause, before the Minister of Information stepped forward, "General, perhaps we need to play them at their own game. This one ship can't compete with the entire media of Nimzonia. We can simply drown them out in a massive propaganda campaign."

The Defence Secretary added, "We should identify this ship's country of origin, and give them a taste of their own medicine. If we don't have any dirt on them, then we can make it up."

General Jaarinen nodded, "Very well. Begin the preparations. Meanwhile, I shall ensure that the same mistakes are not made again." he reached over and pressed the intercom switch on his desk. "Send Otto to my office, please."

The various ministers and military officers filed out. After a few more minutes, there was a knock, and Otto Jaarinen stepped into the office. The president regarded his seventeen year old son. Although he had inherited his father's regal features, he was somewhat absentminded, and generally scruffy. He was currently wearing a Koenberg Skullcrushers Hockey shirt, with miscellaneous stains on the front.

"Seven tries to get a son, and I ended up with you." the president said, sternly, "What am I going to do with you, Otto? Do you realise how much trouble your faux pas is causing us?" He looked again at the hockey jersey, with its stains, "How many times do I have to tell you to take care how you appear in public?"

Otto shrugged. The president raised a brow, "I didn't want to have to do this, but it looks like it's going to be necessary to salvage your reputation and mine. I'm enlisting you in the armed forces. Maybe they will be able to make a man of you."

Otto looked up, slightly wide eyed, "What? But..."

"And teach you some discipline as well." the General concluded.

-----

In the hallway outside, the officials of the ministry of information were discussing their plans.

"Nice one." the assistant minister remarked somewhat snidily, "How are we going to make Otto Jaarinen look like anything other than a scruffy lout?"

"All we need to do is focus on his good points." the minister said. He noticed the expresion of the others, "He does have some good points?"

"Er..."

-----

Next day, the airwaves were abuzz with the slogan, "Otto Jaarinen! He's not as bad as Kruschev!"

Capt Jones of the MMS Schizophrenia is easing the big sub down from Man Jayen towards the Nimzonian/Icelandic straight. His mission is two-fold; one to test the Nimzonian response to the sub traveling close to their waters, how long it would take for them to respond and; two find out what resources Nimzonia has around the little radio broadcast ship.


OOC: if you send the RNS Rapid and RNS Lurker out what kind of subs are they?

"Otto Jaarinen! He's not as bad as Kruschev!" :D :D

The borders of Nimzonian territorial waters are currently being patrolled rather aggressively, by diesel-electric coastal patrol subs. On one occasion, when the Schizophrenia comes too close for comfort, one of the subs begins to shadow her along the boundaries of international waters, like a watchdog straining at its leash.

In Angelsreijk, RNS Rapid and RNS Lurker, both Seawolf class nuclear submarines, move out of port together. The veteran crew of RNS Rapid, led by Rear-Admiral Ivan Persson, leads the mostly raw and untested crew of RNS Lurker north, to await further instructions in the Norwegian sea.

In Koenberg, General Jaarinen has wasted no time in enlisting his son in the armed forces, and Otto Jaarinen is now on the next troop ship out of Koenberg, heading out to join up with Fleet Dione, en route to the new LETIreijk province, where, among other things, a boot camp is being established to instruct the Nimzonian army in warfare in non-arctic climates. The ships carry all manner of alien equipment, such as mosquito nets.

On-board the MMS Schizophrenia

Capt Jones has the ship come up to periscope depth and run out the floating wire antenna. After they receive the burst radio transmission he takes the ship down to 300 feet.

Radioman First Class Mike Marconi "Flash Message sir, we have just decoded it" He brings the clipboard to the Capt and the Capt opens the metal flap on the clipboard and reads the message.

"Set depth to 400 feet, make turns for 20 knots we're going home folks." Announces the Capt.

On-board the MMS Depression(Sister ship to the Paranoia)

Having fixed their propulsion problems in Man Jayen the MMS Depression is now approaching the little radio ship. The amazingly quiet fuel cell propulsion allows the sub to track one of the diesel-electric coastal patrol subs for a while until it turned back to Nimzonian waters. Her mission is to find and track the Nimzonian submarines especially any new Seawolf or Virginia class submarines to capture sonar signature data. She slows until she is barely making headway and sets condition Quiet Running.

The third time in an hour, around midnight the MMS Schizophrenia comes to periscope depth. Capt Jones inspects the surrounding area and finds the ship has come up under a fog bank. He orders the sub to surface and the crew quickly open the hatches and prepare a helicopter for take-off. The ultra quiet chopper takes off with its sole passenger, Mike Boothe. Mike is a professional assassin, his job: To take out the leader of the official opposition party in Nimzonia. Even though this leader is merely a figure head appointed by General Jaarinen and who actually reports to General Jaarinen, the populace of Nimzonia thinks there is a real opposition party.

The helicopter lands briefly on an abandoned beach and drops Mike off with supplies, money and a collapsible TAC-50 with silencer. He is to take out the leader in a public place with plenty of witnessess. The goal is to galvanize the southern part of the country and create trouble for General Jaarinen.

The helicopter returns to the MMS Schizophrenia, is folded up and brought inside the hull. The hatches close and the big sub drops below the surface and resumes full speed ahead.

OOC: If this doesn't suit you just kill him.

Norwegian Sea

During the early evening, the RNS Rapid deployed her antenna buoy to check for instructions on the submarine satellite. Rear-Admiral Persson frowned as he read the latest decoded communications, in the Fleet Marshall's eccentric hand.

"Since Otto Jaarinen is out of the country, and the media is reducing the effects of this radio ship to a minimum, we don't consider it a real threat at present. Until further notice, just loiter around or something."

Persson glanced at his second in command, Commander Eftevang. "Just loiter around or something? Am I in the Fleet Marshall's black books all of a sudden?"

Koenberg

David Hagen, leader of the endearingly incompetent Nimzonian Labour Party, which was currently the official opposition, after General Jaarinen had found their price to be considerably lower than that of the other parties, was preparing his speech for the Labour Party conference in Port Odea, in three days. Consistently making an idiot of himself in front of the cameras was having a dire effect on his dignity, but fortunately, was also having an overwhelmingly beneficial effect on his wallet. In a few years, General Jaarinen was going to set up a scandal where Hagen could escape to Brazil, with several million shivs worth of embezzled Labour Party funds. That should thoroughly disgrace the opposition, keep the Anchor party in power for at least another decade, and Hagen would be able to afford his own yacht. Everyone would be a winner! Except the public, of course, but someone has to lose out.

Hagen had become an expert at writing really bad speeches. He'd written some real crackers in the eighties and early nineties, when he had Dan Quayle for inspiration, but it'd dried up for most of the rest of the decade. How overjoyed he'd been, when George W arrived on the scene.

"Recession means that people's incomes, at the employer level, are going down, basically, relative to costs, people are getting laid off... man, this stuff is great!"

Sjudreijk coast

A lone army jeep moved slowly along the south coastal road, taking care not to skid on the ice patches that seemed to spring up overnight, before disappearing by morning.

Private Olsen and Private Schwein were not the intellectual cream of Nimzonia. They weren't sure if they were patrolling because there were fugitives trying to escape via the sea, or terrorists trying to infiltrate via the sea, but they were more or less clear on the fact that someone unwholesome was trying to get from one side of the coast to the other.

Private Schwein was sitting in the passenger seat, absently polishing his rifle. It was the shiniest rifle in the whole platoon, mostly because other soldiers actually did some work, instead of sitting around buffing up their rifle to a nice pretty sheen. Suddenly, his ears pricked up.

"Hey, Olsen, did you hear that?"

"Huh?" Olsen, who was driving, took the cigar out of his mouth, and glanced across at Schwein, who looked blankly at him.

"Olsen! Eyes on the road!"

The jeep skidded on some ice, and came to a stop. Schwein waved his hands at the other private.

"Stop the engine! I swear, I can hear somehting on the beach."

Olsen cut the engine, and cupped a hand to his ear.

"Bah, I can't hear jack. Let's go."

Schwein shook his head, "No, no, I can definitely hear something. A chopper, maybe. I'm going to check it out!" he grabbed a torch, and stepped out onto the beach. Olsen hurried out after him.

"I can't hear nothing!" he protested, "What do you expect to find? A whole invasion army? Come on, let's get out of here!"

"Fine! You go back, and I'll get a medal for capturing the terrorists single handed." declared Schwein, who wasn't very bright.

"Alright, alright, but just a quick look, eh?" Olsen switched on his own torch, and followed Schwein down onto the beach.


OOC: Go ahead and shoot these dumbasses. It's about time someone got assassinated on Nimzonian soil. I can see it happening a lot in the near future. :)

Sjudreijk coast

Mike Boothe was making his way up the beach towards the road when he heard the unmistakable sound of an army jeep approaching. He crouched down beside some lichen covered rocks and watched as two army privates stopped the jeep and started walking towards him. Technically Mike was supposed to carry only the TAC-50 but being MadderMikian he also had two S&W 9mm, a H&K 9mm, a Ruger Red Hawk 44 Magnum and his favorite the Colt Python 357 Magnum. The Colt was his favorite and it fit his hand like a glove. He drew the Colt and though it was a revolver it was deadly and he was extremely accurate while using it.

The two privates were yakking back and forth like two grandmothers talking about their grandchildren. Mike was pleased he didn't have to worry about them sneaking up on him. When they were about 25 feet away he popped up from behind the rock whistled to get their attention and with two amazingly fast shots sent the 357 hollow point bullets towards their heads.

They crumpled to the ground. Mike checked to see if they were both dead, they were, and he walked to the jeep. For a military vehicle it was astoundingly cluttered with newspapers, candy wrappers, empty soda cans, and various biker magazines with scantily clad female riders on the cover.

Mike looked around and as he seemed to be in the middle of nowhere decided to take the jeep for part of his journey. He picked up one of the discarded newspapers and saw an article about David Hagen, leader of the Nimzonian Labour Party. He was to give an important speech in Port Odea, in three days. Perfect, Mike thought, there will be tons of people there to witness the assassination. He checked out the TAC-50 which will be left at he scene of the crime and it was clearly marked Property of the Nimzonian Army, General Jaarinen's Personal Guard Detail, mfg date 3, 2002.

Sjudreijk coast, next morning

The army had cordoned off the beach by the time dawn came, and stepped up patrols along the south coast. After recovering the bodies of privates Olsen and Schwein, they were now searching for the stolen jeep. They couldn't be quite sure, but the fact that the vehicle had been stolen seemed to suggest that the two soldiers were killed by someone entering the country, rather than leaving it, although the possibility of it being some angry midnight bather who had been in the country all along hadn't been ruled out.

The use of 357 seemed to suggest a foreigner, since most people in Nimzonia preferred cheap and nasty little polymer-framed 9mm pieces of crap, or world war II surplus browning HPs, and most other calibers weren't available in licensed gun stores.

Nimzonia was starting to look like a country under seige, with all the armed patrols everywhere.


Port Odea

The stage was being set for the Labour Party conference, in the Seven Seas Hotel on the clifftop overlooking the harbour. A few decades ago, there had been another hotel on the clifftop, where the labour party used to hold its conferences, but years of erosion had caused it to fall into the sea, and now they had to make do with the Seven Seas hotel, which would probably fall off the cliff within ten years. Half of the beer garden was already missing.

The security buildup was already in progress, from armed police in the town below, to special counter terrorist operatives planted at various places in the hotel and grounds. Ostensibly, the security was there to protect the labour party members and followers from the various terrorist threats that the media was always brainwashing the population with, but more likely they were there to ensure that the labour party toed the line, and remind them who was boss.

On the road to Port Odea

Mike Boothe had long abandoned the army jeep by parking it in an abandoned shed next to an equally ramshackle house. He walked back to the little hamlet he had passed about a half mile back. He was going to hot wire a car for the trip to Port Odea when he spotted a tiny stake body truck behind a local greengrocer. It had the keys in it. The greengrocer should have been open by now, something must have happened or they were on vacation.

Mike dropped his gear behind the seat of the cheap imitation Japanese rust bucket and spotted a bottle of spirits. The liquid was a nasty brown concoction, with a title supposed to be in the Old Nimzonian/Icelandic tongue. As near as Mike could tell it was distilled from cow dung. He rinsed his mouth out with the vile stuff and made sure he spilled plenty on his shirt. He then spotted an Icelandic style sweater, well worn but fairly clean. He put on the sweater and spilled more of the drink on the sweater especially on the arm closest to the window in case he was stopped at a checkpoint.

With that done and with some faint radio station fading in and out on the little truck's radio he headed out towards Port Odea. The truck had 3 cylinders supposedly, but it pretty much ran on 2 and a half, blowing a noxious mixture of half burned fuel and scorched motor oil out the exhaust pipe.

Port Odea

On the roads outside Port Odea, there are large queues of vehicles going through the military checkpoints, which are still in place in the wake of the Quisling scandal. A big sign by the side of the road instructs drivers to have their IDs ready. At the front of the queue, bored soldiers glance at passports and driver's licenses, trying to keep the traffic going through as quickly as possible, while still doing their job.

Port Odea

Mike Boothe approached the check point almost gagging on the fumes from the cheap whiskey mixed with the smoke from the little sputtering engine. His papers signifying him as a naturalized Nimzonian citizen originally from Aberdeen Scotland were bent, with many rings from coffee cups placed upon it. The numbers and most of the important data was smudged. On the back of the little truck was a broken crate half filled with rotting vegetables of unknown origin.

He pulled alongside the bored soldiers and in an impossibly thick Scottish brogue said something like "How ye doin' lads, I'm on me way to the docks to pick up some greens." At least that might be what he said. Only God could be sure and even He might have a question or two.

Port Odea

The soldier who had approached Mike Boothe's vehicle stared blankly at him for a few seconds, as he completely failed to register anything Mike had just said. After a while, he cautiously examined Mike's papers, holding them carefully in case just merely touching them might cause him to catch typhoid or something.

"Hey, Sarge!", he turned and called to another soldier, who was reading a copy of Arctic Blue Lips, the cover of which featured a large picture of David Hagen, with the title 'Labour Party Conference '04'. The sergeant came over, and was handed the messy papers, and a muted conversation took place for a few seconds.

Then the sergeant came strolling over to the window of the truck, with that practiced gait common to many policemen, that seems to say 'Oh, you're in trouble now, Sonny Jim'. He leaned over to the window, and then pulled back abruptly, as though he had just been slapped in the face.

"Loki's balls, what the hell is that smell!?" he gasped, "Dunno what you've been drinking, pal, but it doesn't smell like it ought to be combined with driving, and er..." he waved a hand in front of his face, as some engine fumes started to drift his way, "When was the last time you had that vehicle serviced? Come on, out you get, and we'll-"

Just then he was interrupted by the other soldier tugging on his sleeve, "But Sarge, we don't want to have to search him! I mean, you got a face full of that smell - we'd have to search the vehicle too! He's just some yokel - blatantly not one of the fugitives, so what say we just let him through, and stop holding up the traffic?"

The sergeant glanced back up the road, where the traffic was thickening, and the air was filled with the sound of angry honkings. He took the smudged and coffee stained papers, and tossed them back through the window of the truck. "Alright, Hamish, I'm letting you through this once, but you get yourself some new papers I can actually read, and take better care of them in future, you got that? And get this truck seen to as well."

He stepped back, and waved Mike through, "Go on, clear off."

Port Odea

Mike Boothe drove the little truck down near the docks looking for a good place to hide and where he could purchase a shipment of vegetables as a cover. He ran across a group of angry merchants yelling at what appeared to be the ship's purser from a Nigerian freighter. The gist of the conversation was the disgraceful condition of the huge crates of fruits and vegetables. Mike determined from the bits an pieces of conversation that the ship's refrigerator had started to malfunction about 1/2 way through the journey. The middle of the crates were still in good shape but most of the outer portion would have to be thrown away.

Mike approached the purser and bought a large crate of oranges, a good portion of which were covered in green mold. The happy purser arranged for a forklift to put the crate on the little truck. Mike nursed the overloaded truck along until he spotted a cheap motel with a large chain-link fence surrounding the parking lot. There was a guard at the entrance watching Everybody likes the White Family on a battered TV. He waved Mike on, Mike parked the truck and went in to get a room.

With a little help from about $100 worth of Shivs he got a room overlooking the ocean and the Seven Seas Hotel. He drove the truck around to the back and parked it close to his room.

Mike explored the area around the back of the seedy motel and found a path that led up to the Seven Seas Hotel. As he neared the hotel he noticed the stadium seating being set up for David Hagen's speech. He had to find a place where he could assassinate Hagen, drop the gun, have the gun found by the crowd not the police, and still be able to escape.

He finally found the place, it was a rocky outcrop that had not yet fallen into the ocean, it had a clear shot to the podium and was clearly visable from the stadium. A few small trees had fallen in front of the outcrop which would screen the TAC-50 right up to the last minute. It would also be a perfect spot for a security man to set up surveillance. Well, Mike's silenced H&K 9mm would solve that problem if it arose. A short jump down led right to the path to Mike's motel.

Time to get some food, shower and rest until the speech tonight at 9:00pm. Mike thought Not the easiest job, but still a chance to get away, that was all he wanted.

At around 5:00pm, things started to get underway. The Labour Party faithful began filing in to take their seats, all carrying their 'David Hagen: It's not what he says, it's what he means!' placards, and those big foam hands that people in crowds always seem to have. There were introductory speeches from a few minor labour party members, and a few media personalities who supposedly supported the Labour Party. They were all a fairly sorry bunch, like washed up soap stars, and retired footballers who spent their free time sitting on the street with signs saying 'Will pundit for food'.

David Hagen's car arrived around 8:00pm, and he and a few of his lackeys disappeared into the Seven Seas VIP bar, to have a few drinks before the speech. Fortunately for Hagen, it would likely enhance his career, or at least, his pay off, if he turned up drunk and forgot what he was supposed to say.

Mike Boothe made his way up the path to the rocky outcrop carrying a small sign on a very stout stick, the TAC-50. Sure enough there was a security guard perched on the outcrop trying to get a cute delegate to join him. Mike, adorned with the smelly clothes from yesterday came up to the girl and spoke to her with halitosis so bad she swore later she could see a green cloud emanating from his mouth.

The girl disgusted with the offer he made her disappeared into the crowd. The security guard was displeased with Mike's actions and with an officious stance started to order him away from the spot. The phutt from the 9mm silenced H&K was hardly noticable, the supersonic crack of the projectile was unheard due to the crowd noise and the short distance it traveled to the forehead of the guard. Mike casually guided him to the ground in a sitting position, noted the the security team was too cheap to give him a radio.

Mike set up the TAC-50, unsilenced to futher advance the possibility of a crowd member finding it before the police. The stench and the unkempt appearance kept anyone else from approaching Mike.

David Hagen finally emerged from the Seven Seas hotel, slightly inebriated, but not so much that he'd forget his laboriously crafted speech, and began making his way through the crowd, shaking hands, accepting flowers from admiring, and clearly somewhat misguided fans, and shaking more hands. Eventually, he reached the edge of the stage, and a few other delegates and some of the previous speakers wandered over to chat with him a bit.

Just then, there was a rustle from behind Mike Boothe, and a man in a black balaclava, carrying a M21 sniper rifle, emerged from the bushes by the outcrop. When he saw Mike lying there, he hissed, in a thick Psyevdorusskiyan accent, "What the hell? Sergei gave this job to me! Who are you?" he waved a hand in front of his face, "And what is that smell?"

Even as he was about to further berate Mike, another man, wearing a suit and hat, and a white-on-white tie and shirt, approached carrying a light-50. He looked equally surprised to see Mike and the psyevdorusskiyan.

"Senile old fool!" hissed the Psyevdorusskiyan assassin, "He's gone and forgotten who he gave the job to!"

By this point, David Hagen was walking out onto the stage, waving to the crowd, who waved their giant foam hands back at him. Then, he launched into his speech, which was very bad indeed.

Mike looked at the two Psyevdorusskiyans, shook his head, wondered if he was going to get out of this alive, took careful aim at the chest of David Hagen, whispered to the two fools "Line up we only have a couple of minutes, he doesn't talk long."

With that said, he squeezed the trigger, a huge ear-splitting blast shook the immediate area. Mike had aimed at the center of poor David's chest. Even if he was wearing body armor, the massive 50 cal slug wasn't going to be detered. Mike waited to see if he was successful before bolting to his escape vehicle, the tiny overloaded truck.

The Psyevdorusskiyans were going to be a problem. This was supposed to be an inside job from General Jaarinen. Those two idiots could screw the works up. He caressed the 357 magnum Colt, dead men tell no tales he thought.

David Hagen concluded his speech with a fine non-sequitur, and the crowd went wild! He waved and grinned at them, and reached for his glass of water. As he raised it, there was a loud bang, and the glass shattered. He stared at it, slightly bemusedly, until his body realised that the slug had gone straight through him, and had tipped over the party treasurer's wheelchair. David Hagen dropped down dead, still with the slightly bemused look on his face.

As Mike Boothe bolted off towards his truck, the balaclava man stared after him in disbelief. He picked up the discarded TAC-50. "Hey, you can't just leave this here! Bodrozvachski zhaltziet, what kind of amateur are you?"

He glanced back at the crowd, who had passed through the screaming phase remarkably quickly, although a few were still shrieking at the top of their lungs, and were now in the monkey curiosity phase, and were starting to mill over towards the outcrop. Some security men were trying to fight their way to the front of the crowd also.

"Hey!" the Balaclava man shouted after Mike, and the two Psyevdorusskiyans began to run after him, still carrying the TAC-50. A few shouts from the security men seemed to suggest that they were hot on the trail too, not that the psyevdorusskiyans could have made themselves any more blatant.

Mike could not believe the two Psyevdorusskiyans yelling at him. Damn if they carry off the TAC-50 it might never be found. Idiots! He turned towards the two and pulled out the 357 Colt. He fired two quick shots, one at each of the Psyevdorusskiyans, both shots designed to take out a knee. That should slow those idiots down.

He hopped into the fruit truck and with gentle coaxing managed to get it started. With a belch of blue smoke the truck started moving towards the gate. By now there was a steady stream of police cars moving towards the Seven Seas Hotel. Interspersed among the police cars were military police vehicles. It was one of these that Mike crashed into with the little truck. The accident would have been just a fender bender had the crate of rotten oranges stayed in place. The crate slid almost in slow motion and tipped onto the MPs jeep. Green covered oranges were all over the road and filled the jeep up to the drivers knees.

The time for covertness was over, Mike pulled out the two S&W 9mms and opened fire on the the occupants of the jeep. This of course attracted more MPs and cops. The speed and agility of Mike was amazing as he picked a target, fired and moved on. When the S&W 9mms were empty he switched to the 44 magnum. When it was empty he switched to the H&K and then finally to the 357.

The two psyevdorusskiyans toppled over, cursing incoherently. The nearest security personnel were loathe to approach them, since they still had a few very large guns between them. There was also the fact that they were having enough trouble stopping the crowd from trampling them. Producing an endless stream of rich Psyevdorusskiyan curses, the balaclava man raised his M21 and started taking potshots at Mike's truck, as he was escaping, exploding oranges and smashing the wing mirrors. Meanwhile, the man in the suit and hat was fumbling around with an AK-47 which he had had slung over his shoulder.

Most of the attention was still on Mike, though, and after the first few cops and MPs had got shot, the rest were cowering in the footwells of their vehicles, or hiding behind car doors, occasionally sticking out a shotgun or glock to fire wildly in Mike's direction. There was the clatter of rotors as a helicopter approached, searchlight sweeping across the chaotic scene below trying to make sense of it.

"Throw down your weapons and surrender!" a voice demanded via the conference speaker system, "We er... have you surrounded!"

Mike took a look at the helicopter and as he was surrounded by a lot of mostly ineffective police he took careful aim at the fuel tank of the chopper and spent his last round. Disgusted with himself for not bringing more ammo, Mike took the contents of his pockets and threw them into the air. The various letters and memos were purportedly from an official in the General's private police force making payments to El Cosa Nazi for the "eradication" of unspecified Nimzonian leaders. The letters, bank deposit notes and other incriminating evidence were scattered into the wind from the chopper.

Mike was pleased to see not only the official news vans, but other international media grabbing some of the papers, video recording them and obviously uplinking to satellites. These guys obviously have worked in Nimzonia before, knowing full well the papers and probably the video tapes would be confiscated pending the "Official Report-Never-To-Come-Forth".

Mike then surrendered.

Port Odea

By now a few APCs were coming up from the town below, bringing troops to help with the situation, controlling the crowd and regaining some kind of order. Security from the hotel and some of the MPs were already herding the press away, particularly the foreign press, confiscating satellite equipment and any other devices that might allow reports to bypass the Nimzonian censors. Ownership of such equipment is typically banned in Nimzonia, except in the cases of government-approved institutions, on the rather flimsy grounds that it can be used for spying.

The moment Mike surrendered, he was immediately bundled by a mob of MPs and cops, who immediately set about extracting some measure of petty revenge with nightsticks, rifle butts, and doc martens. The two psyevdorusskiyans were hauled off as well, recieving the odd clout from an irate MP, before being shoved into the back of a military ambulance.

The only press members who were going unharrassed were reporters from the government controlled Triple-N and Republic News networks, who were already denouncing the assassination and subsequent chaos as the work of foreign militants, careful not to point their cameras at anything that might later seem suspicious, like the group of MPs and cops rendering Mike Boothe to a pulp before dragging him off to Silo One, which was basically Nimzonia's version of Abu Ghraib.


Koenberg

It was raining outside General Jaarinen's office lounge, and the occasional thunderclap and flash of lightning lit up the baroque architecture ominously. The General walked around the chessboard, opposite from the hunched figure of Sergei Petrenko. Eventually he stopped, leaned down to the board, and made a move. Thunder clapped again outside.

While Petrenko was making his move, a lackey came in from outside, and whispered to General Jaarinen. A few more whispered words were exchanged, and the lackey shuffled off again. Petrenko made his move, and looked up at the General.

"Trouble on the home front, comrade?"

General Jaarinen smirked slightly, "You could say that. The Honourable David Hagen appears to have been assassinated. I wonder what the poor man did to deserve such an unfortunate end."

Petrenko took a gulp of vodka from a nearby glass, "Who can say what enemies a man in a public position may make."

"Indeed." General Jaarinen muttered, and moved a knight, "You know, it's almost as if an old friend is trying to tell me something."

"Your friend must be very cryptic," said Petrenko, cryptically.

"Indeed." said the General, "I'd much rather he just told me these things straight. After all, David Hagen was as expendable as they come, but replacing him is an inconvenience. Why would an old friend want to inconvenience me? Which of my friends have I inconvenienced lately?"

"Perhaps someone who missed their opium plantations in the former Western Manarth?" hinted Petrenko, "There one day, and gone the next, with a big fat Nimzonian military base sitting in their place."

General Jaarinen rolled his eyes, "You could have told me sooner, and I might have put a stop to it. I've been in this game for over thirty years, and I still don't understand the Psyevdorusskiyan organitzya. Sometimes your rationale escapes me, Sergei."

"Just keeping you on your toes!" chuckled Petrenko, "Never mind. I'm sure reparations will be forthcoming."

"Of course, old friend." General Jaarinen nodded, "Sending three assassins, though. That was a bit overkill."

"Three?" Petrenko frowned, "I'm sure I only sent one. Oh well." he made an abrupt move with his queen, sending some unfortunate pawn clattering off under the couch, "Mate in four, Generalissimo."

At Kjorstvik Air Force Base prison, the ICOS Bear arrives pierside and Spotted Mink awaits the arrival of his high profile prisoner.

Kjorstvik air force base

A couple of burly guards escort Martin Shone up from the underground prison. He is dressed in standard prison issue blue jeans and white t-shirt, and the guards haven't bothered to give him a coat, despite the chilly weather. He has chains on his wrists and ankles, most likely for humiliation, than because the guards actually expect him to make some kind of jailbreak attempt. He also has a piece of duct tape over his mouth.

The Wing Commander of the base is also making his way down to the pier, and joins up with Martin Shone and his escort half way across the parade ground. He makes his way carefully down the icy steps to the pier, and offers Spotted Mink a handshake.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Here's your eco-terrorist. We'll be glad to see the back of him, I tell you. If you could just sign here..." he hands a clipboard to Spotted Mink, with standard prison transfer documents, already signed by the Wing Commander. He also hands over a roll of duct tape.

"Here, you'll need this too. I'd recommend taking it off only at feeding time."

Koenberg, early morning

As early as dawn, preparations were beginning for the arctic carnival. The police and army were already out, setting up security posts, and putting out roadblocks and diversions, to keep traffic off the parade route. Some vendors were already setting up for the day, and large chain-gangs of convicts were being used to shovel all the night's snow off the streets, where it would be shaped into snowmen and suchlike on the roadsides.

Some of the floats were beginning to line up, too, preparing for the start of the main parade at 12pm. There were a few sponsored by Nimzonian corporations, such as Saatovagen, Nimzonia's largest civilian and military vehicle manufacturer, and the various branches of the armed forces, which were like mobile recruitment centres. Other floats were a bit more traditional; there were various viking-related displays, for instance.

There were a few floats from Psyevdorusskiye, promoting aspects of psyevdorusskiyan culture, such as Dead Square Vodka. There was also a float from the Pharaoh Islands, featuring a large fiberglass Ice-Sphynx. TV crews were also arriving, trying to get the best spots before other networks showed up. Of course, Republic News and Triple-N always got the best spots. Everyone else had to make do with the scraps left over.

Martin Johanssen, editor of Arctic Blue Lips, was there already - he wasn't about to let some upstart newspaper get a better spot than his people. A light snow was falling, in the early morning twilight. He breathed out, "Ah... This year's going to be the best carnival ever!"

Koenberg Hilton, early morning

Red has already loaded his equipment into a float provided courtesy of "Bribes are Us", it is a bland float promoting increasing productivity in the coal mines of Nimzonia. If anyone cared they might think it unusual as convicts usually worked the mines. He is thinking he should have brought an assistant to help with the nine Scottish Soccer Hooligans/Assassins. Hopefully they have made it back to the Ice Block hotel and are getting ready for the parade.

The float Red and Karl of "Bribes are Us" picked out is the one preceding the ever popular "Viking Killing an Egyptian Pharoh". This float is a symbol of the Nimzonian claim to have had a flourshing civilization at least as long as the Egyptians. It is undoubtedly one of the most popular floats in the parade and as the Viking tribal name used is always the same as the current ruler, in this case -- General Jaarinen he is sure to acknowledge the float. No one pays any attention to the float just in front of the Viking float, this is where the assassination team will be located.

At a large uphill bend in the parade route

This is the spot the nine assassins are supposed to be located, many members of the parade crowd usually have to help push the floats up this slope. To ensure help will be required, Red and Karl ran water over much of the slope during the night. As the heavily loaded float passes this point the team will help push then slip inside the float to prearranged killing zones.

General Jaarinen was himself preparing for the parade. He had to be seen in his most opulent uniform, and with his most regal stature. It would be easier to look noble this time; this would be the first parade in fourteen years that he had attended without Otto by his side, exuding an aura of scruffiness. Truth be told, the General was looking forward to seeing his only son again; Otto's training record had been good, despite the best efforts of the boot camp instructors to draw reactions from him. No doubt he would survive the war. General Jaarinen was pretty sure Otto hated him right now, but it was all part of his plan. He recalled that his own father had done the same thing.

"How do I look?" he asked his valet, who was fussing around helping him with the more fiddly bits of the highly impractical decorative uniform.

"Very regal, sir." said the Valet, "Will sir be wearing the traditional horned helmet?"

"Oh no." said General Jaarinen, "I wouldn't be seen dead in that."

-----

The crowd began to build up from as early as 8 or 9am. Everyone wanted to get as close to the parade as possible, and the hotdog vendors were already making good money from those that had already arrived. People weren't eating the hotdogs, which were generally of dubious hygeine, but they liked to hold them and enjoy the warmth until they went cold.

The first float in the procession was traditionally the Viking Longboat, which passed out ale to the crowd as it went past. Other floats usually appeared in whatever order they turned up.

Red and Karl had done too good a job of icing down the street. It was getting increasingly difficult for the floats to make it up the hill. The department of public works had put some sand mixed with potash and salt to try to help out the result being the road was now more slippery.

Karl was prepared, He shouts "Hot Grog for everyone who helps get the floats up the hill." After that the floats began to move up the hill with ease. Karl somehow managed to find a 50 gallon drum full of hot grog and was passing out little cups of the vile liquid.

Red was herding the Hooligans into the float, one of them slipped and fell under the float and staggered back to the loading area missing even more teeth and with a large tire tread mark across his face. Red gave them all further instructions. The two sober members asked about escaping and Red assured them all they had to do was push the two large blue buttons and an instant fog bank would cover their exit. The blue buttons each controlled a large canister of nails with four pounds of C4 in the center. If the grenades, the Mini-mis didn't do the job the C4 would take out the entire viewing stand.

Despite the slight hold up at the slippery hill, which the carnival organisers refused to remove from the route on account of it being traditional, the parade went ahead reasonably smoothly. After a few hours, most of the crowd were drunk, and the procession occasionally had to stop, as intoxicated individuals were herded out of the way of the floats. As well as the floats, there were lots of people on foot; lots of viking rading parties with huge plaited beards, and groups of large fat women in metal bustiers, carrying oars and wearing winged helmets, singing soprano as they strode down the street. The rest of the traditional Nimzonian music seemed to consist of loud, discordant horns, which blasted at irregular intervals, while a few elderly skalds disgorged irregular poetry. The procession was going well.

Outside the Republikstaad, in Koenberg's government square, a tall stand had been set up to allow General Jaarinen and his staff a better view of the parade as it passed. A few of his daughters and their corporate kingpin husbands were up on the stand as well. The group of them stood there like peacocks in their resplendent outfits, awaiting the procession. General Jaarinen's personal bodyguard, the Varangian Guard, stood posted about the square, to keep the crowd a comfortable distance from the General's party, and generally to keep an eye out for troublemakers.

The float full of the hooligans lurched up the street. Hamus had long since fallen out and was about a mile behind the float. He had totally forgotten his mission as a huge buxom blond wearing a horned helmet had adopted him. She was remarkably efficient in keeping their leather tankards full of ale.

As the float approached the Republikstaad and the viewing stand the remaining members took their spots. As expected the crowd was watching the Viking float and totally ignoring the float teeming with assassins.

Ian and Sean opened fire with the grenade launchers, one of them was actually headed towards General Jaarinen. They loaded again and were joined by the mini-mi's opening fire. At first the crowd thought it was fireworks, firecrackers and the usual mayhem. James one of the sober members was taking careful aim at General Jaarinen and his party. He managed to empty two magazines of ammo in the General's direction.

James was ready to push the blue button to start the "smoke screen".

The first casualty on the viewing stand was the Defence Secretary, who recieved the majority of fragmentation from the first grenade, which exploded practically on top of him. As the hail of fire blasted into the stand, there was hardly anyone who wasn't hit, either by shrapnel or 5.56mm, at least three times.

General Jaarinen himself, standing in the centre of the viewing stand, was hit five times in the chest and abdomen by fragmentation, before a cluster of bodyguards threw themselves in the way. Still on his feet, the General was watching the scene with an expression of absolute unadulterated fury, as more of the Varangian guard tried to pull him away.

People were running in all directions, as they began to realise what was happening. This hindered the military police and civillian police tactical squads who were trying to get to the scene, as was the fact that General Tobiassen's hand picked officers were delaying them and sending them in the wrong directions. The Varangian guard in the Republikstaad area, most of whom were armed with submachineguns, were attempting to return fire and cover General Jaarinen's escape, although in the massive confusion, it was hard to see where the attack was coming from. A couple of the floats had caught fire, and been abandoned. A large keg had come loose from one of them, and was now rolling down the street, adding to the chaos.

A group of Varangians were trying to move General Jaarinen into the main Republikstaad building, where there was a well defended security office. However, the General was furiously shouting orders to other guards nearby, and ignoring the fact that he was bleeding heavily. After a few moments, shock or blood loss seemed to catch up with him, and he collapsed. He never recieved the letter from Letireijk reccomending Otto for the Crux de Valour.

The viewing stand had mostly been demolished, and there were dead bodyguards and Anchor Party officials scattered around everywhere, and some civilians and reporters who had been caught in the crossfire. The thunder of rotors was drawing nearer, as a couple of helicopters approached, doorgunners peering through the chaos to try and find the source of the attack. A Republic news helicopter had managed to get to the scene as well, and was getting in the way. The sounds of panic and confusion around the centre of Koenberg were deafening.

Inside the float James pushed the "Smoke Screen" blue button. The two canisters full of C4 and nails exploded sending hundreds of nails at high speed into the reviewing stand. The float was demolished, the only thing left was the smoldering, bent metal frame of the truck the float was constructed upon. None of the Scots inside survived. Pieces and parts of their weaponry was scattered into the retreating crowd. The tops of the canisters flew almost straight up about one hundred and fifty feet.

As it became apparent that something other than the parade was happening,Hamus quickly sobered up and suggested to the huge buxom blond wearing a horned helmet they should retire to her apartment until the excitement died down.

Red and Karl watching from the 15th floor of the Koenberg Hilton were finishing up their escape plans. They would be taking a fishing trawler out to the fishing grounds southeast of the Pharoh Islands where they would be picked up by Red's assistant.

OOC: Nice imagery :)

An hour later, the excitement still hadn't died down. The army was swarming all over Koenberg, maintaining order and discouraging the looting which had broken out after the chaos in the Republikstaad. A few medical stations had been set up near the parade route, to treat the walking wounded both from the initial attack, and from the chaos afterwards.

Field Marshall Helstag stepped out of his car, which had been allowed through the security cordon surrounding the Republikstaad area. He had been waiting in the officer's club at the Koenberg Artillery Depot, which was just downriver from the Republikstaad, at the entrance to the port district. Now he walked through the carnage, mentally ticking off those rivals who had so far been identified among the dead.

He identified the Vice president, the Foreign secretary, the Secretary of the interior and various junior ministers. There was a soggy red doily which was probably the Defense secretary. He pushed through the crowds of medics and army personnel surrounding the Republikstaad, trying to find General Jaarinen, but there wasn't any sign of him.

At the entrance to the main building, he encountered General Tobiassen, who saluted him.

"Where is the president?" Helstag asked.

"I have just recieved word from the Koenberg Central Hospital that our beloved leader has passed from this life to the next." Tobiassen responded.

Helstag suppressed a smirk, "Then our time has come."

With a final satisfied glance at the destruction outside the Republikstaad, Field Marshall Helstag strode inside, to begin preparing the new order.

In Michaelgrad

Em of Mike and Mike Shipping Secretary of State and Mike's concubine and the true leader of MadderMike, was watching the raw feed from the Republic News helicopter's uplink. I think there is going to be new leadership in Nimzonia. We should position ourselves to take advantage of this situation. I think the General's son is in the Lake Erie region. We must be careful and pick the right side in this. This could well lead to a civil war in Nimzonia, I have to keep Mike in the dark about this until I have a clearer picture.

She clicked the remote back to "Everyone Likes the White Family" just as Mike walked back into the well appointed Prime Minister's bedroom. Ten-thousand TV channels and Mike liked this drivel.

MadderMike had a few satellites of their own, mostly spy birds. MadderMike did enjoy very loose copyright laws allowing the "Theft" of signals from every satellite they could find.

Em made a mental note to talk to Mike Bond, Minister of Intelligence and Information, wherever he was, to see if he had anyone in Nimzonia.

RNS Overlord, on patrol in the Arctic circle

Since the sinking of the Paranoia and Blue Peace 2, not a great deal had been happening in the whaling grounds. The season was more or less over, although a few vessels still braved the dwindling temperatures, and Rear-Admiral Jakobsson's anti-submarine warfare group was ostensibly on maneouvers, although their real mission was to keep an eye on MadderMikian submarine activity near Man Jayen, and keep an eye out for the Psyevdorusskiyan submarine fleet; there were rumours that the Psyevdorusskiyans had recently acquired a new nuclear sub, although Nimzonian intelligence had yet to identify it.

Late afternoon, the Overlord task force received the news reports from Koenberg, and every crew member watched in stunned silence the devastation around the Republikstaad square. Later in the evening, a priority broadcast announced the death of General Jaarinen, and various senior cabinet members. Communication traffic between the ships of the task force went silent for several minutes. Then Rear-Admiral Jakobsson, on the advice of Commodore Kippe, had the crew of every ship sing the national anthem over the radio channels to lift their spirits a bit.

At about 11pm that evening, Jakobsson was sitting in his cabin with a bottle of Council of Clans malt whiskey, that his nephew, who was serving under admiral Wilhelmsson in LETIreijk, had sent him, when a junior officer brought him an urgent message from Fleet Marshall Folkvadr.

******
To: Rear-Admiral O. Jakobsson
From: Fleet Marshall B. Folkvadr
Olaf, no doubt you have seen the news. The Anchor party is no more, and I suspect foul play. Uncle Walrus has informed me that I and officers loyal to me are in danger; he has gone into hiding himself. I am taking what captains are still loyal, and heading for Wodenreijk. I suggest you do the same.
******

Jakobsson blinked, and re-read the message. Barely five minutes later, another message was brought to him.

******
To: Rear-Admiral O. Jakobsson
From: Fleet Marshall J. Thorbergsson
Your current operations are cancelled; return to Port Odea with your task force immediately.
******

Jakobsson frowned. So, something strange was going on after all. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, and tried to think.

In the Arctic 175 miles North-North West of the Nimzonian Coast

Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus is drinking coffee on the bridge of the ICOS Wolf watching waves break over the bow. There is no daylight now just an eerie glow at noontime. He was going to take his squadron into port in Nimzonia when news of the attack on the General was announced. He put his charges on hightened alert and decided to stay at sea.

With the IOCS Eagle back in Lake Ontario he had picked up the remainder of the Eagle's battle fleet. His squadron consisted of:

The ICOS Grizzly a Ticondaroga class CG with 2-24 cell VLS one 5 inch rapid fire naval rifle.
The ICOS Copperhead Spruance class DD
The ICOS Diamondback Spruance class DD
The ICOS Northern Pike Los Angeles class SSN
The ICOS Backpack AFS supply ship
The ICOS Wolf Spruance class destroyer (Flagship)
The ICOS Hawk Perry frigate
The ICOS Falcon Perry frigate

His men needed some shore leave and he was contemplating going to Reykavik, Iceland or even the Pharoh Islands.

Radar was reporting a large task force to the West, Probably Admiral Jakobsson thought Walrus. He was pretty sure the MadderMikians had left the area after the peace treaty.

"See if you can raise Admiral Jakobsson on the Nimzonian/ICO tactical frequency." Commodore Walrus called to radio. I want an insiders view of what is going on in Nimzonia.

RNS Overlord
Rear-Admiral Jakobsson weighed up the situation. The Nimzonian naval hierarchy contained only one Fleet Marshall, so the latest message, from a Fleet Marshall Thorbergsson, suggested that Bjornolf Folkvadr had been replaced already. As far as Jakobsson was aware, Folkvadr had always been a loyal officer, and he had never even heard of Thorbergsson, and he was pretty sure he knew the names of all the senior Admirals. This was leading him to agree with Folkvadr's last message.

He had been sitting in his cabin, brooding on the subject, for over half an hour, when another message from Thorbergsson was brought to him. It demanded a response, and threatened to remove him from command. Jakobsson was pretty sure that returning to port would result in him being removed from command anyway, if not worse. He stepped onto the bridge, and the officers waited expectantly for his order. Flag Commodore Myhre came over and stood next to him.

"Are we returning to port, Rear-Admiral?"

Jakobsson paused for a moment, and said, "No." There was a silence.

Myhre cleared his throat, "Then, what are our orders, sir?" He looked around at the others on the bridge. There weren't any dissenters yet, at least.

Jakobsson said, "We will head east, around the coast of Iceland, before turning west towards Wodenreijk. I have reason to believe that the new regime in Nimzonia is illegitimate. If I am wrong, I shall take full responsibility. Do I have your support?"

The bridge was silent. Then Myhre turned to the conning officer, "Come right forty degrees. We're heading east, around the coast of Iceland."

"Aye." said the Conning officer, and relayed the order to the helm.

Jakobsson said, "Tell the destroyers and frigates to form an air defence screen, and have the harriers fuelled and ready."

The bridge became a flurry of excited activity, as Jakobsson's orders were carried out. A message was sent to Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus, 'The political situation in Nimzonia is unstable. Reccomend you treat the new regime with the utmost caution.'

Shortly later, as the task force continued to head east, another message from Thorbergsson was recieved. 'Return to port at once, or measures will be taken.'

Jakobsson smiled bitterly, as he and Myhre examined the message, "Doesn't beat around the bush, does he? Tell him where he can stick his measures."

Myhre grinned, "With pleasure!"

Kjorstvik Air force base, 30 minutes later
At the air force base, two squadrons of JAS-39 fighters were being hastily prepared, and armed with RBS-15F anti-shipping missiles. Each fighter is equipped with two missiles.

24 pilots were cramped into the underground briefing room, listening to the new Wing Commander. Profiles of the Overlord task force were displayed via an overhead projector.

"According to satellite images, the traitors are heading east; we only have a brief window of opportunity, before they leave our strike range. Your main objective is the Overlord."

A pilot officer raised his hand, "What about the Indian Casino Operator ships?"

"Be careful to avoid attacking them." replied the Wing Commander, "We don't need any more enemies while there are rebels to deal with."

Message from Fleet Marshall Thorbergsson, to Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus
"Rear-Admiral Jakobsson has openly mutinied against Nimzonian naval command. Be warned that allying with him will be considered an act of war, and treated accordingly. The Nimzonian government is offering a bounty of 500 million USD, negotiable, to the ICO navy for assistance leading to the capture or sinking of the RNS Overlord task force."

Message from Fleet Marshall Thorbergsson, to Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus
"Rear-Admiral Jakobsson has openly mutinied against Nimzonian naval command. Be warned that allying with him will be considered an act of war, and treated accordingly. The Nimzonian government is offering a bounty of 500 million USD, negotiable, to the ICO navy for assistance leading to the capture or sinking of the RNS Overlord task force."

Broken Toothed Walrus read the message from Fleet Marshall Thorbergsson twice and walked into the flagship radio room. After making sure all the satellite links and scrambling techniques were in place he made the call to Chief Howling Wolf.

Sub-Chief Eagle Eyes was lamenting the fact that once again Chief Howling Wolf had taken a sabbatical and was living in the wilds with his latest wife, when the call from Commodore Walrus came in. This was not good news Nimzonia was a valuable ally. If Jakobsson was right then supporting the wrong side could be disastrous.

"Send this message to Fleet Marshall Thorbergsson **Indian Casino Operator does not wish to get involved with the internal affairs of Nimzonia. We are conducting peaceful operations in the arctic. We will not take any action against any Nimzonian warcraft either naval nor air unless fired upon. In light of this dangerous situation any approach of armed aircraft above Indian Casino Operator vessels will be considered a breech of this position and all efforts will be taken to protect Indian Casino Operator assets.***"

Eagle Eyes then tells Walrus to send the same message to Jakobsson with this added on **Acting Chief Eagle Eyes has the utmost respect for ADM Jakobsson and will assist in any attempt to allow them to escape short of outright war.**

When the messages were sent Commodore Walrus put his fleet on general quarters and put them in a very long line exactly between the Overlord Fleet and the coast of Nimzonia. They are going to have to fly a long ways to get around us. he noted to no one in particular.

Moments later, in the arctic circle
Shark squadron, the first squadron of 12 JAS-39s, was approaching the ICO line. Squadron Leader Mortensen noted the presence of a number of surface ships on his radar.

"Shark-two picking up surface contacts." reported his wingman, "The Overlord fleet?"

Mortensen examined his radar screen, "More likely, the Indian Casino Operator task force."

"They're right in our path." said Shark-two.

Mortensen ordered his squadron to pull off to the south, to avoid entering the task force's air space, while he reported the position of the surface contacts to the Wing Commander. The Wing Commander confirmed shortly afterwards that it was not the Overlord task force, and likely the ICO group. The Overlord fleet was already pushing the edge of the air-force's strike range, and going around would not be possible.

The Wing Commander quickly transmitted a message to Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus:
*****
ICO commander, your assets are deployed directly in the path of our arial strike force. Request permission for two squadrons of Nimzonian air-force JAS-39s to pass through your fleet's airspace.
*****

Barely a minute later, a second message was transmitted:
*****
This action is critical to Nimzonian homeland security, and may have ramifications for future relations with Indian Casino Operator.
*****

The Wing Commander quickly transmitted a message to Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus:
*****
ICO commander, your assets are deployed directly in the path of our arial strike force. Request permission for two squadrons of Nimzonian air-force JAS-39s to pass through your fleet's airspace.
*****

Barely a minute later, a second message was transmitted:
*****
This action is critical to Nimzonian homeland security, and may have ramifications for future relations with Indian Casino Operator.
*****

Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus replies
****
Request denied, in order for us to remain neutral in in this issue I must insist both sides remain clear of Indian Casino Operator operating space. If I allow anyone to overfly us in these most tense times then the other faction may in-fact take action against us. We are making the utmost speed to clear the area and still protect our slowest vessel.
*****

Walrus tells the fleet Combat Information Center to begin to actively track every plane in the sky, with a combat solution for each plane.

OOC: The ICOS Diamondback and Wolf have MK41VLS 8 cell launchers. the Copperhead has 8 cell Tomahawk launcher.

The Marquis de Shardé was sipping an ice cold vodka gimlet when his military advisor entered the room. The advisor was going on an on about the Nimzonian airforce and the Indians and the Nimzonian Navy. The Marquis asked if the missile defense system was active and working. After being assured that it was in-fact working; the Marquis turned his attention to the nearly naked nordic blond amazon and continued their game of strip chess.

Arctic circle
The second squadron of JAS-39s arrived, and began circling just outside the ICO task group's air space with the first. A tense few minutes passed. After that, the Wing Commander appeared to relent, and called the two squadrons back to base. His final message to Commodore Walrus was a curt, "We will respect your operating space."


Koenberg, the day after
On live television, outside the Republikstaad, the newly appointed President of Nimzonia, Emmanuel Helstag, addressed the nation. Alongside him were the senior members of his new government, General Tobiassen, and General Hanstveit.

"We have seen the passing of a great era," Helstag said to the crowd in the square, "and the passing of a great leader. But we must not allow the tragedy of General Jaarinen's death to mire us in sorrow and regret; Nimzonia is stronger now than it has ever been, and we stand on the threshold of a true golden age."

He paused for a moment, gauging the reaction of the crowd. They were hanging on his every word. A good start, he felt. He took a breath, and continued, "Yet before we can grasp our golden age, we must first lay the foundations upon which the tower of our achievement shall be set; we must draw together, and restore the order necessary for our destiny to become manifest!"

He looked around at them, and continued, "There are those who would take advantage of the chaos left in the wake of the attack on the Republikstaad, to bring disorder and anarchy to our land - rebels and traitors, those responsible for the assassination of our beloved General Jaarinen, who would steal our destiny from us!"

Helstag punched the air for emphasis, "How dare they!" There was a roar of approval from the crowd. Helstag smiled inwardly, and continued, "How dare they stand against the glory of Nimzonia! We must stand together and face this threat, and drive it from our homeland! Only then, can we seize the future for ourselves, and our children, and our children's children!"

The crowd were going with him; Helstag could almost feel the patriotism in the air, and it satisfied him that his takeover of the government was now fully complete. The crowd cheered wildly. A number of Helstag's henchmen, in civilian clothes, scattered through the crowd, began to sing the national anthem, and, fired up by the spirit of nationalism, the rest of the crowd began to sing too.

Coverage of the address, and the singing crowd, was all over the airwaves for the rest of the day.

RNS Overlord

The Overlord task force continued to head east. Harriers were kept on standby through the night, although the expected air attack never arrived. Rear-Admiral Jakobsson sent a reply to Commodore Broken Toothed Walrus.

*****
"My thanks to Acting Chief Eagle Eyes for his support. There will be dangerous days ahead; I hope for the sake of both our nations, that it does not come to outright war."
*****

OOC:

Previously, on 'Tensions in the arctic'

18 hours ago: The Argyle Stockings of Clydebank Shipyards: Clydebank shipyards settles in to the north and west of Norway just south of the Arctic Circle. Ian McTavish CEO of Clydebank Shipyards reiterates that his is a peaceful nation armed to the teeth, dedicated to the construction of ships of all types. We have repair facilities second to none and all are welcome to harbor here for refit and repairs.

18 hours ago: The Nordic Republic of Nimzonia: Rear-Admiral Olaf Jakobsson, heading east around the coast of Iceland, requests refuel and resupply, for the destroyers RNS Warspite and RNS Glaive, which don't have enough fuel to complete the trip through the atlantic to the port at Wodenreijk.

3 hours ago: The Argyle Stockings of Clydebank Shipyards: Sean Campbell director of port services agrees. His representative will meet the RNS Warspite and arrange payment; we have very flexible payment plans including exchanges for future ship orders. We are willing to gamble on various scenarios.

2 hours ago: The Nordic Republic of Nimzonia: Commodore Brovik, of the RNS Warspite, meets the Clydebank representative. He says that fuel is their primary concern, although RNS Glaive is having some mechanical problems, and, without access to proper funds, asks if they can pay with the fleet's munitions; torpedoes, surface-to-air missiles, air-to-air missiles, and even their Sea King helicopters, to cover the cost. Time is also of the essence; Brovik, and the rest of the fleet are just a little bit desperate.

35 minutes ago: The Argyle Stockings of Clydebank Shipyards: Sean Campbell looks over the inventory and states the payment of fuel and repairs paid by munitions is acceptable. He also replies that covered dry docks are available for extensive repairs and they avoid pesky satellite photos. Sean replies that a resupply ship could meet the needy ships to exchange "payments" the resupply ship would be escorted by the latest Aegis Cruisers as a precaution.

Now, this week's exciting episode...

IC:

RNS Overlord Task force

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson has the rest of the fleet form an ASW perimeter, while the transactions take place; the Nimzonian Navy still has nuclear submarines loitering in the area, and if the RNS Overlord were sunk, it would throw the rebel task force into disarray.

RNS Glaive and RNS Warspite separate from the fleet slightly, to await the resupply ship. Commodore Brovik informs Clydebank Shipyards that they are ready and waiting for resupply and refuelling.

near the RNS Overlord Task force
The CSS Haggis a heavily modified Supply class fast replenishment ship with an additional vertical replenishment station and six vice three Navy UH-46E Sea Knight helicopters and two UAVs, arrives on station. Accompanying the Haggis are six Aegis class cruisers and one Seawolf class submarine. The UAVs are sent out to the South and to the West.

The helos take off to arrange "payment", the refueling operations begin; one one side of the Haggis is the RNS Warspite on the other the RNS Glaive. The Helos begin to transfer parts and foodstuffs both dry and frozen to the other ships in the task force.

Fourty Minutes Later
The Southernmost UAV spots a very large carrier battle fleet first from the electro-magnetic emmissions then a visual on the horizon. Captain Angus MacIntyre CO of the Haggis radios back to base and receives conformation that it is a MadderMikian fleet headed to Man Jayen with a R&R stop at Clydebank. They should pose no threat but they are MadderMikians and they will pass to the west of the RNS Overlord Task force. He radios this information to Rear-Admiral Olaf Jakobsson.

The new government in Nimzonia was wasting no time in consolidating its position, organising what forces were loyal, and setting about eliminating the rogue threat.

The biggest problem by far, was the escape of ex Fleet Marshall Folkvadr, with over half of the navy's assets; although his supply of fuel and parts would run dry eventually, it still represented a significant threat until that time. The status of the forces in Letireijk was uncertain; Governor Lagerfelt appeared to be going slightly mad, what with all the nuclear confectionary being thrown around Lake Eerie.

The Army was mostly under Helstag's control, although a number of reserve units were 'unaccounted for'. The air force seemed to be mostly indifferent, so President Helstag had wasted no time in making pay rises and handing out bonuses, to secure their loyalty. The air force units stationed in Wodenreijk, were, of course, now under the command of Bjornolf Folkvadr, but they weren't a significant threat.

There was also the problem of General Jaarinen's intelligence network, which had so far successfully hidden all but a handful of the Quisling GELFs from him.

-----

President Helstag was keen to get the situation resolved, and gain allies, so he immediately set about putting bounties on the rebel naval units. He sent the following message to MadderMike, Man Jayen, Clydebank Shipyards, Indian Casino Operator, The Pharaoh Islands, Psyevdorusskiye, and any other countries operating in the arctic region:

*****
The Republic of Nimzonia seeks allies in exterminating a sizeable threat to the country's stability. A portion of the Nimzonian Navy is taking advantage of the current political instability to mount an illegal rebellion against the legitimate government. First, be advised, that any aid given to these rebels will be considered an act of war against Nimzonia, and acted upon as thus. Instead, we are offering sizeable bounties for the recapture or sinking of the following naval units: <List of ships, including the RNS Overlord task force>, for the capture or elimination of the following rebel personnel <List of rebels, including Olaf Jakobsson and Bjornolf Folkvadr>, and for help in the recapture of the Wodenreijk island military installation. These bounties are entirely open to negotiation.
*****

<<SNIP>>

*****
The Republic of Nimzonia seeks allies in exterminating a sizeable threat to the country's stability. A portion of the Nimzonian Navy is taking advantage of the current political instability to mount an illegal rebellion against the legitimate government. First, be advised, that any aid given to these rebels will be considered an act of war against Nimzonia, and acted upon as thus. Instead, we are offering sizeable bounties for the recapture or sinking of the following naval units: <List of ships, including the RNS Overlord task force>, for the capture or elimination of the following rebel personnel <List of rebels, including Olaf Jakobsson and Bjornolf Folkvadr>, and for help in the recapture of the Wodenreijk island military installation. These bounties are entirely open to negotiation.
*****

Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa commander of the huge MadderMikian Carrier battle fleet was reviewing the communiqué from the Republic of Nimzonia. Normally he would jump on this opportunity as most spoils of war were rewarded to the on-scene commander to divide. But this was a real problem, his three carriers were loaded to the gills with F4 Phantoms to be delivered to the Man Jayen airforce. These old venerable fighters would be eaten alive by modern airforces. Man Jayen wanted an airforce, MadderMike had a lot of old aircraft, Man Jayen would likely kill a lot of wanna-be pilots in training. The armada Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa was leading consisted of:
3 arsenal ships,
3 Nimitz class carriers,
MMS Megalomania
MMS Oldsmobile
MMS Nausea
10 Spruance class destroyers,
7 Ticonderoga crusers,
2 Burke class cruisers,
2 Seawolf submarines,
4 LHAs,
5 Supply class fast replenishment ships

The problem was the hanger decks were full of F4s the flight decks were loaded with F4s and the Arsenal ships were loaded with old standard missiles to be transfered to Man Jayen. They were sitting ducks if they engaged anyone.

Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa received the reports from the arsenal ships that a UAV was watching them. He put the fleet in a air defense spread and sent the destroyers out in a search pattern to find out what was going on.

The MMS Gastrointestinal Discomfort a Spruance class destroyer was the first to spot the task force. The unmistakable silhouette of the Haggis led the ship to report that the fleet was a Clydebank Shipyard fleet on maneuvers. Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa decided to give them plenty of room as Clydebank sold ships to anyone regardless of ship handling skill. To try to pass near them was inviting collisions.

Vice Admiral Phillippa sent the "Clydebank" ships a message:

***This is Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa of the MadderMike armada we are passing your fleet 80 miles to the west. Do not mistake us for renegade Nimzonian vessels we will retaliate if provoked. ***

Rear-Admiral Jakobsson had put the fleet on full alert, when the MadderMikian carrier group had come into the area. He was well aware of how mercenary the MadderMikian navy was, and they would be sure to jump on Helstag's contract.

Fortunately, the Overlord group was, for the time being, mistaken for Clydebank ships. He had the RNS Overlord and the RNS General Jaarinen, the two most distinctive ships in the group, move further from the MadderMikian armada, further behind the screens of non-descript frigates and destroyers.

Onboard the RNS Warspite, Commodore Brovik was getting restless. He paced up and down the bridge, and asked the Clydebank represantative how much longer it was going to take.

near the RNS Overlord Task force

Captain Angus MacIntyre CO of the Haggis was getting nervous about the huge MadderMikian fleet, knowing full well their unpredictability and their volatility. He makes sure the "payment" has been stowed, the tiger team sent to repair the RNS Glaive have returned and fueling has finished. The refuling team signals the two ships to break the fueling connections. The Haggis drops from formation and the entire Clydebank force turns and heads back to Clydebank Shipyards at 25 knots. The two UAVs are recovered and stowed.

Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa has his battle fleet accelerate to maximum speed. He turns towards Man Jayen. R&R at Clydebank will have to wait there are fish to fry. That renegade Nimzonian fleet has to be around some where. If necessary he will move towards the Wodenreijk island military installation. "There's money to be made!" he exclaims to the Captain of the MMS Megalomania the flag ship of the fleet.

Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa sends an urgent request to the MadderMikian Admiralty:
***Enemy fleet operating in the Arctic urgently require 270 F35 fighters for the carriers to meet at Man Jayen. Require 550 standard missle block IV to await our arrival in Man Jayen. Require 250 advanced harpoon missles. Require 6,000 troops ready for Arctic invasion. We have the LHAs to deploy the marines just no marines. ****

From the list of ships under Folkvadr's command, it can be discerned that he has ~100 combat ships, including 5 Nimitz-class carriers, giving him roughly 280 combat aircraft, a combination of F14s, and FA-18s. Some of his cruisers and destroyers already have battle damage from a skirmish with the air force in the Nimzonian Sea. His supply situation is thought to be fairly tenuous. The Wodenreijk air wing has 48 combat aircraft, JAS-39 Gripen multirole fighters. His ground forces include one batallion of army regulars stationed in Wodenreijk, as well as 12 batallions of marines (roughly 6500 troops). The island is speckled with SAM sites, and the sheer terrain favours the defenders, and makes bombardment from sea and air difficult. (OOC: Also, I'm determined there's going to be a canyon dogfight :D )

President Helstag's plan was, rather than to face them directly, blockade the island and starve them out. However, with MadderMikian re-inforcements, alongside the rest of the Nimzonian navy, there should be sufficient force to take the island quickly.

-----

Once the transfer of fuel and parts is complete, and payment sorted, Rear-Admiral Jakobsson plans his next move. He had resigned to waiting for the MadderMikian fleet to pass, but fortunately, they veered off abruptly in the direction of Man Jayen, allowing his group to break out into the atlantic. Hopefully, they could dodge Thorbergsson's submarines until they got around to Wodenreijk.


OOC: Otto will shortly be coming to Wodenreijk, where he will publicly announce his challenge to Helstag via satellite, and call for allies. Then I'll make a new thread.

http://jupiter.walagata.com/w/fricasso/NS_Map_6.jpg
Scale's a bit off - Wodenreijk should be a tad closer to greenland.

http://jupiter.walagata.com/w/fricasso/Ns_map_5.jpg

The island is a completely barren frozen wasteland, with jagged mountains all over the place. The only civilian community, Wodengard, is a small fishing town, with a high suicide rate.

In the Underground Admiralty Headquarters

ADM Dewey Chief of Naval Operations for MadderMike is reviewing the request from Vice Admiral Mike Pious Phillippa. If this fool wasn't my wife's brother I would ignore him. He thought. But Phillippa was his brother-in-law and he was second cousin to Mike of Mike and Mike Shipping the current Prime Minister of MadderMike.

With the tensions in LETI so high it was going to be hard to explain shifting valuable resources to the Arctic. But Mike of Mike and Mike Shipping liked Phillippa for whatever reasons.

ADM Dewey called in his advisors and the began the plans to move equipment, men and planes. Refueling stops, gathering all the necessary C5As, deciding which troops to send, caused the group to work through the night. In the early hours ADM Dewey sent the request and the plans for accomplishing it to Mike of Mike and Mike Shipping.

Wodenreijk

The rebels had been digging in for over a week, by this point. The marines and the small army garrison, had been trying to dig trenches and foxholes in the hard, frozen earth, and build fortifications to conceal their artillery pieces and machinegun positions.

The Erik Mennstein naval base, where the command centre was based, was located at one end of a huge fjord, surrounded by mountains on either side, which offered the area a measure of protection, and surface-to-air missile sites had been built on the high ground around the area back when the island was originally fortified.

The destroyer RNS Geist, had been so badly damaged that Bjornolf Folkvadr had desided that it wasn't worth the expenditure of parts to save it, and it had been run aground by the entrance to the fjord from the sea, and now served as an artillery platform. Beyond the naval base, a glacier valley continued across the island, into a long, high-walled network of canyons, which ran for fifty miles. His defence planners had identified the valley as a weakness, because enemy aircraft could drop into it and get a clear run at the base, so he had a large portion of his marines dug in along the canyon, with man-portable SAMS, and heavy machineguns.

The five aircraft carriers were positioned in the fjord itself, along with escorting frigates and corvettes for air-defence. These, along with the small airstrip in the canyon, were the island's main air bases. Beyond the narrow seaway into the fjord, the remaining frigates and destroyers, and a large portion of the nuclear submarines, were arrayed in a defensive spread, for air and submarine protection. Four minelayers were also at work around the island.

Folkvadr was confident that he could put up a determined defence from this position, for at least a few weeks in the face of an invasion. Of course, how long he coud hold out was limited by their ammunition supplies, which weren't exactly easy to replenish. Until he could get ahold of Otto Jaarinen, to put a reputable face on their rebellion, few military hardware suppliers were willing to deal with him.

"How about Clydebank Shipyards?" suggested Wing Commander Ivar Hendriksson, CO of the airforce bace, "They've recently set up in the arctic, and they deal with anyone."

Folkvadr agreed that it was a good idea. He had secured access to some of the navy's not-quite-legally-acquired bank accounts, and still had a few hundred million shivs or so to play with.

He sent a message to Clydebank shipyards, asking if they can supply fuel, parts, and weapons (especially surface-to-air missiles) to Wodenreijk urgently.

OOC: Link to the Nimzonian Civil War thread

Fire and Ice: The Nimzonian Civil War (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=378879)