NationStates Jolt Archive

Nuclear Weapon Prototype explodes killing all inside the Delta Star City Foxtrot Research Lab.

Today, soon after the announcment of the completion of "Achilles", the bomb exploded killing all 140 staff members inside. Radiation has spread throuhout the areas within 2 miles of the lab. As of now, all city services and military units are attempting to stop the radiation from leaking into the city water system. General Stalis has requested assistance from neighboring nations with this statement.

"While Nilt is a pride-filled country, a notion alone cannot stand alone on pride. Therefore we formally wish to request aid from any one who can provide it."

-----------------------
*Community of Bariloche, San Carlos, 1515hs GMT-3*

- Headquarters of the FNB (Fuerza Nuclear Barilochense - Barilochense Nuclear Force):

An messanger runs inside the office of Daniel Ferroni, the Force General in Chief office. "Sir, we have detected a low level nuclear explosion in Nilt, with high radiation emission" -the messanger stops to breathe- "it was suspected to be a Briefcase-Bomb, but it was fairly distant from the nearest city and a communicate from the Nilt government was emitted some time ago, but we only got it now" -the messanger gives the communicate to the General-. "Thank you corporal" - said Ferroni - "the President will know right away".

- Office of President Pablo Bernal:

"I see" -said Bernal after being told of the situation- "I'll send a message to Nilt, meanwhile prepare the NBQ team for departure".
-----------------------

Message to the govenrment of Nilt:

The Community of Bariloche has received the news of the accident, we would like to send our NBQ team, experts in nuclear radiation situations, with the best equipment we can afford (and that is bery good equipment), they will take all the risks necesary to help all people in danger. If you give access to our team, they can be there and working in less than three hours.

We also expect you to enter in dialogue with us and our allies, we could help your development of a nuclear force without taking this kind of risks.

Respectfully,
Pablo Bernal
President
Community of Bariloche

General Stalis sat in his chair in front of a window in the capitol city. His head was pressed against the glass as his five stars shimmered in the light, his mind raced with thought. Just then a young 1st Sgt. came in.

"Sir, we have a message from Bariloche", he said in a deep, though childish voice.

Stalis looked up and turns. The Sgt. hands him a paper with a message on it from Bariloche. Without hesitation, Stalis read through it.

"Praise him. Sgt. Send this message."

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

Message to the Government of Bariloche

The Dominion wishes to thank you to the fullest extent. We will allow the NBQ teams complete and unrestricted access through our country in addition to any thing else you need us to do. As for you helping us with our nuclear arms, we appreciate that and graciously accept it.

Finally, we are more than happy to enter dialogue with you and your allies.

Once again, Thank you.

Respectfully
General Juan Stalis
Dominion of Nilt

President Wonka was reclining in his favorite chair when the aide burst in. "Dammit, Fred!" cried the President, "I'm gonna have to put you in the kitchen peeling potatoes if you keep doing that. The aide, looking slightly abashed, closed the door more gently and walked over to the chair, "I have bad news, sir."
"What is it THIS time?"
"Nilt just had a nuclear disaster involving a failed bomb."
"Damnit, didn't we tell them not to mess around with that until they got the uranium right?" The president sighed. "Send in the Second SOERS division."
"Yes, sir"

OOC: Info on SOERS (special Ops Emergency Relief Squad):

50 paramedics (20 doctors, 30 assistants)
20 marines

equipment: paramedics have all necessary supplies to deal with nuclear, biological, or chemical disasters, all in a IBDS unit. marines have standard issue equipment and weaponry, plus biochem suits and decontamination equipment.

Transported by an upgraded C-240 transport, they are able to get almost anywhere in an hour or two.

bump

Message to the government of Nilt:
The NBQ team arrived to the lab area in the XX-XX "XXXX" at 1730hs GMT-3, one hundred medics and paramedics set temporary camps with full instalations with decontamination and medical facilities, while fifty engineers are studying the area for meassures directed to stop the radiation threat. If necesary, we can send military personel at your discretion.

Without anything else,
Gregorio DeMarco
Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Relations

[Message filtered by Bariloche's High Command]

Stalis had just arrived in Delta Star City. He had military personell quaratine the 3 miles around ground zero. Suddenly, a Sgt. runs up to him.

"Sir! It's urgent!"

He slips him a note and Stalis quickly reads it.

"...My god...we need to warn the world."

SPEECH TO ALL NATIONS.

"Ladies and gentleman of the world...you may have heard of the Delta Star City Nuclear Disaster. We have determined the cause. Ladies and gentlemen, it was sabatage by a terrorist cell residing in our nation. I assure you all, I will not rest until these criminals ARE BOUGHT TO JUSTICE! These terrorist are an extremist group left over from before my rise to power and they call themselves Spider Fox. They are very dangerous ladies and gentlemen...and it is believe they may have a small surplus of CS nerve gas. We have'nt got a description of them yet, but dammit, we will try! Until then, we need patience. And to all the other countries, begin chemical warfare drills, once more I repeat, PRACTICE CHEMICAL WARFARE DRILLS! We do not yet know enough to take action against these terrorist. Thank you."

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

Message to Bariloche

We have confirmed their arrival. Due to the current terrorist threat, I have assigned 200 marines including my elite guard to protect the medics, engineers, and medical facilities. If you need to, you have my fulled expressed permission to assign military personell.

With respect,
General Juan Stalis
Dominion of Nilt

Meanwhile, the SOERS team has finally set up a temporary care facility in the city and is preparing to do a city-wide sweep for harmful levels of radioactivity. Luckily, no area is too badly effected other than the immediate precinity of the explosion. Minor cases trickle in from the outskirts, but those were easily handled by the assistants, while the highly-trained doctors started among the severely hurt and severely irradiated in the area surrounding the blast. Quickly meeting with the head of Bariloche's teams, they work out a jurisdiction system that would play to each team's strengths. Setting up camp on the north side of the blast area, the doctors get down to business with their typical high efficiency. The team's religious specialist, who is also a certified rabbi, walks among the victims, giving them hope and promising to give messages to family members. His assistant follows behind, writing down the requests and their intended recipients to ensure delivery. A special team consisting of 5 paramedics and 5 marines heads down to the main pipeline and sets up a special Geiger counter, then sits down to wait and pray.

The Nomadic Peoples of Pacific Northwesteria grieve for your losses, and wishes to provide some help in your hunt for the people involved. 4 DD-1 A high-altitude precision bombers and 4 DD-1 B high-altitude Mach 4.5 spy planes have taken off from their bases in Pacific Northwesteria. They have been refuled mid-air, and are en route. These spy planes should be able to find the terrorists, and, with you permission, our bombers will take out any targets that you agree are hostile. The planes will, of course, turn back if you so request. Godspeed.
-President Zwimbala, Pacific Northwesteria

The Nomadic Peoples of Pacific Northwesteria grieve for your losses, and wishes to provide some help in your hunt for the people involved. 4 DD-1 A high-altitude precision bombers and 4 DD-1 B high-altitude Mach 4.5 spy planes have taken off from their bases in Pacific Northwesteria. They have been refuled mid-air, and are en route. These spy planes should be able to find the terrorists, and, with you permission, our bombers will take out any targets that you agree are hostile. The planes will, of course, turn back if you so request. Godspeed.
-President Zwimbala, Pacific Northwesteria

The Nomadic Peoples of Pacific Northwesteria grieve for your losses, and wishes to provide some help in your hunt for the people involved. 4 DD-1 A high-altitude precision bombers and 4 DD-1 B high-altitude Mach 4.5 spy planes have taken off from their bases in Pacific Northwesteria. They have been refuled mid-air, and are en route. These spy planes should be able to find the terrorists, and, with you permission, our bombers will take out any targets that you agree are hostile. The planes will, of course, turn back if you so request. Godspeed.
-President Zwimbala, Pacific Northwesteria

The Government of the Empire of Ganchelkas has decided to send $20,000,000 worth of humanitarian aid to your nation. We also offer you the use of N.E.R.D. (Nuclear Emergency Rescue Department), please let us know if they can enter your nation.

TELEX from the Ministry of Defence, Yakabako
---
1700 Zulu, 18 March

The Commonwealth of Yakabako has despatched 5 (five) CH-47D Chinooks and 1 (one) C130J to assist with the relief effort and to provide transport for any evacuees. Please inform your air defence systems of the filed flight plan (attached).

Hospitals in Yaka City have been placed on amber alert and will treat casualties at your request.

Ralph Levine
Chief Liason Officer,
MoD
---

"I am here at ground zero to address every nation that has helped us so far. I wish to thank you for helping us in our time of need. I grant permission to all countries who wish to send in military personell to do so. We will never forget everything you've done. Also, we were able to identify a suspect in the bombing. His name is Diaz Nilt, the former dictator of our nation. It is our belief he may attempt to target one of our neighbors. Intell informs us it may be the foreign aid personell that was sent over. Therefor, I am assigning ever more security to all of their teams to protect them. If I must, I will join a security team as well."

Our spy planes have found something that appears to be the makings of a car bomb, in sector 1005 of Nilt. Close-up photographs of the people in the area are being sent to your government databases for analysis. There are currently 12 JDAM guided missiles locked on to buildings in the area that may be weapon construction sites. We await your "go".
Although our first act was to try to prevent another catastrophe from occuring, Pacific Northwesteria has not forgotten those who have already been wounded in the attack. We are therefore sending $100M in safe food and water (in case of contamination) as well as prefabricated shelters and fresh medical supplies. *supplies sent*. Let us hope that this horror is never repeated, and that the wounds of the present will heal.

Stalis takes a look at the photographs. "Mmmm...I hope the missiles are accurate...we give the go ahead. After wards, I'll have 12 specials ops teams move in to neutralize any other threats in the wreakage."

bump

Stalis takes a look at the photographs. "Mmmm...I hope the missiles are accurate...we give the go ahead. After wards, I'll have 12 specials ops teams move in to neutralize any other threats in the wreakage."

The DD-1 As fire their missiles from high altitude, and they follow their GPS guidance down to the surface. All of the buildings are hit, although one of them is hit less than planned.... one of the missiles went astray. It landed harmlessly in the middle of a field. The suspected secret bomb making plant, as well as the assembled truck bomb, were neutralized. The special ops move in.

OOC: It's ur decision whether or not we were right about them being terrorists. Just an idea. But it's ur special ops, so it's ur call what they find.

Missed building

Special Ops Team, Codename: Gold Raven

The five member team, lead by 1st Lt. Dursk enters the building, all five members keeping their MP-5s raised ready to fire at anything that moves. Slowly they make thier way through the building. Suddenly, a gunshot is heard. The team drops and returns fire.

"HQ, this is Raven! Under fire! Repeat Under fire!", yells Dursk.

"Roger. Return fire. Shoot to kill."

"Roger that. Raven out"

Suddenly, the team opens up in a hail of bullets. Screams are heard as extremist in urban BDU's drop. When the smoke clears, all that can be seen are bodies. The team makes their way to a storage tank that should have the CS gas in it. Nothing.

"Hell! HQ!! THE PACKAGE IS GONE!!"

----
Meanwhile
---
Stalis was speaking with each foreign team in his NBC suit. Just then an aid runs up.

"Sir, teams report gas is gone."

Stalis gets a nervous look in his eyes.

Address to all nations.

"Ladies and gentleman. I have bad news. Spider Fox does have a chemical agent capable of blanketing more than 1 miles of any city. The weapon is a agent know as Chlorine. Yes, the stuff in pools. Anyway, they have enough to pose a major threat to all countries. We strongly urge all countries to be prepared for the worst if we are unable to stop them."

bump

[code:1:581f89747a]To the government of Nilt:
The people of Bariloche is very concerned about the situation in Nilt, you can expect full cooperation from the government of Bariloche for any armed attack necesary against the terrorist forces, but our personel will work only under Nilt's flag, no armed unit will oficially be under Bariloche's orders. We are sending a FIGT team (Fuerza de Inflitración y Guerra Tecnológica - Infiltration and Technological Warfare Force) leaded by Juan Ignacio Pereira (one of our most both young and experienced special force's commanders), twenty people strong, able of working under any climate condition both in field and urban locations, with capabilities of stealth or open combat. They will arrive within the next 4 (four) hours. If you could provide a landing field for this team away from any civilian population, it would be appreciated.

We also are able of providing the services of 25~30 DIM agents (División de Inteligencia Militar - Military Intelligence Division) of the ABI (Agencia Barilochense de Inteligencia - Barilochense Intelligence Agency), if authorized, they will arrive within the next 24 (twenty four) hours in civilian planes arriving from different countries, with the appropiate documentation provided by your government. They will inmediately search for opportunities of infiltrating the terrorists or finding information of their location and/or suppliers if there are any.[/code:1:581f89747a]

Secret OOC:
If the intelligence agents find something or not is mostly up to you, you OOC-TG me the info they find and I'll post their actions.

-edited-
Changed the post to "comply to the NSForum standarts" :lol:

"Tell me what went wrong", says President Zwambala of Pacific Northwesteria. "Our bombers destroyed that camp. There was no way for them to know what was happening. They must have been planning to move the gas beforehand. This probably means an attack is imminent. Suggestions!!!"
"Well, sir" put in the Minister of the Armed Forces, "I would suggest sending four of out DD-1 s back to base, 2 of the As and 2 of the Bs. They could refuel and rearm. The other 4 should continue to sweep the area. As this is looking like a longer-term ordeal, we should have our planes working in shifts. That way, there will be 2 bombers and 2 spy planes over Nilt at all times, and if they do have inside information, they won't be able to catch us with nothing in the air."
"Nothing else?" replied the president. "ok, then... it's times like these I wish we had more long-distance planes. Very well. Implement your plan."

The 4 planes that had been involved in the previous incident fly back to bases in Pacific Northwesteria to refuel and rearm, and will be back in the air in a few hours. At most times there will be 8 planes ready over Nilt, however, at some times (such as now) there will only be 4. Already enough to take out any discreet terrorist base.
The spy planes, at their phenomenal speeds and incredibly high altitude, have concluded their initial sweep of the nation of Nilt. Dozens of photographs of possible trouble spots, all unanalyzed, are sent via secure channel to the government of Nilt. Nilt is invited to analyze as soon as they are able, and to keep us informed on the situation.

OOC: Nice job on the RP :)
This is going to be interesting.

As each special ops team reported in, Stalis continued to become more and more worried.

Suddenly a radio transmission comes in.

"SIR! We have several terrorist boats! Including a tanker! All enroute to Bariloche"

Stalis bit his lower lips.

"Then scramble our aircraft! NOW!"

"Aye sir!"

Stalis thought. They may have two more tankers with the gas. He could only pray they'd be found.

Meanwhile at Ground Zero.

Each squad kept an eye on the foreign teams. Suddenly a gunshot is heard.

"GET DOWN!", yells a Captain just before a bullet slices through his abdomen killing him immediatly.

The team returns fire not quite sure just where the attackers are.

OOC:
Got a mole buddy? :lol:
I won't be taking too much casualties for this, I'm using it only as training, so don't over-act it.
Just in case you need to know, I only have west-facing shores (south of a pseudo-South America facing a pseudo-Pacific :wink:, don't want any troubles with the "claiming-nuts" as I call them).

IC:

[In open-to-the-public comm system]
-----------------------------------------
To the government of Nilt:

Several ships has been informed to be in-route to our shores having departed from your nation. Our early-response system was already active because, as you are experiencing in now, the terrorist activity is frightening now days. We expect confirmation from you on this ships origin and purpouse.

We have ships in the final area of our territorial waters. The 1st fleet of the Defense Force is composed by 2 carriers (the NB-018 and 019), 4 FPE class Frigates (NB-006 to NB-009) and 8 CPE class Corvettes (NB-010 to NB-017). Along with it we have two self-managed SEA class nuclear attack subs (the NBS-002 and 003) and land-based aircraft very well capable of reaching out even to international waters.
-----------------------------------------

[Message encrypted along with the public message]
[code:1:4a8f629d17]Some information has been adquired about the terrorists, we have to stablish safe contact between the barilochense government and the Nilt High Command. No information will be issued through any channels until safety of the comms has been assured[/code:1:4a8f629d17]

Secret OOC:
Give me info about the terrorist objectives and motives, that's what the adquired info will be for now.

bump

OOC:I didnt really feel like reading all the posts, though I noticed nuclear weapons and chlorine. Is the problem still that terrorists have chlorine and nuclear weapons?

OOC:They have three tankers with chlorine. We have found one so far. As for nukes, they have none left.

======From The Office of The Unreal Soldier======

It has come to our attention that a terrorist group has seized large tankers of Chlorine, and are believed to have plans of using the Chlorine as a chemical weapon.

Being well familiar with terrorist attacks on the homeland, I am offering the use of Sentinel, the security system of our most advanced technology center Black Mesa. Sentinel is equipped with SecuriSat, an extremely advanced network of sensory equipment, capable of finding small amounts of chemicals and radioactive material to a very close proximity. It is capable of finding a liter of the specified chemical or material to within a 3 meter range. It has proven itself over and over during the nuclear assault on my country, in which it located several suitcased nuclear weapons in various underground facilities.

We offer this to your nation to stop this threat.

OOC:

Nilt: What did you bump the thread for? You and the previously involved nations are probably the only ones that will post.

Come on, let's get into it, I'm sure Pacific Northwesteria and some others will come when things start happening.

IC:

------------------------------------
Message to the government of The Unreal Soldiers:
The terrorists have not attacked yet and are probably not going to make small-scale attacks, they have the chlorine in tankers and large-scale use of it is expected.
------------------------------------

At the conclusion of a joint military training exercise that involved sea maneuvers, Some of the LeberMac forces had indeed discovered trace amounts of chlorine in sea routes passing through LeberMac territorial waters.

Lying in the SpyMac region, which is situated in the South Atlantic between Nilt in the Atlantean Oceania and Bariloche in Argentina, The Dominion of LeberMac grows increasingly concerned with the possibility that terrorists have illegally used some of its outlying islands as bases while the bulk of the military forces were preoccupied with staving off an invasion from it's interior nation neighbor, MacForLand.

Our condolences for your tragic loss. The Dominion recognizes the international tragedy of the nuclear accident in Nilt, and has shipped several crates of Macintosh "puck" mice to the afflicted city. The center rolling balls of the puck mice are quite adept at absorbing radioactive particles, and they should help alleviate the residual effects of the explosion. When the puck mice have absorbed as much radiation as possible, the Dominion of LeberMac requests that we be allowed to take back the radioactive puck mice for our own uses.

The Dominion of LeberMac does not have great numbers of military forces, but it DOES have several teams of very well-trained special ops commandos. These commandos are en-route to these outlying islands where the chemical traces have been discovered.

OOC: Will they find anything? Or will they be too late?

OOC:
hahaha... mice balls hahaha... :lol: good one d_:D_b

bump

OOC: thank goodness... I thought this thread was dead...

IC: The Minister of the Armed Forces of Pacific Northwesteria was pacing in his office. A young colonel rushed in, with urgent news in a red seal. Ripping it open, the Minister's jaw dropped. "They escaped with some of the gas? This can't be! We must intervene immediately!" He made an emergency visit to the office of the President. "Sir, you are needed in the situation room." With that they walked briskly together to the sit room, and as the President walked in, the assembled generals and admirals stood up. After being told to sit, they apprised the President of the situation, and gave their suggestions. "Go!", said the President. "And godspeed". Five minutes later, with its crews still sleepy, the 1st Fleet fanned out to try to trap the terrorist ships in their net. The Fleet contained the following ships:

4 Mackensen Class Battleships
6 Thunder Child Class Battleships
3 Orion Class
5 Defiance Class Frigates
4 Skjold Class
3 Infusion Class carrier (100 planes)
2 Lunar Class carriers (110 planes)
310 MiG-29 Fulcrum (naval) carrier fighters
210 Su-33 fighter-bombers (naval)
10 Sea Wolf Class Subs
220 Air Cushioned Landing Craft (able to carry Leopard 2A5 and T-90DD1)
10 Leopard 2A5 Improved Tank
100 T-90DD1 Tanks

Some of the llanding craft had tanks loaded up, and some carried supplies, tank crews and special ops trained to sneak up to enemy ships and plant explosives.
These ships formed a wide, radar-interlocking semicircle around the coastline of Nilt. The terrorists would NOT get away. Search planes were in the air, scouting ahead for trouble. Meanwhile, the President ordered all available DD-1s to be over Nilt. "Refueling be damned", said the President, "If we don't have all 4 DD-1As and all 4 DD-1Bs (high altitude, high speed bombers/ surveillance) over Nilt RIGHT NOW, all may be lost."
The DD-1B surveillance planes completed another pass over the country of Nilt, and again forwarded the images to Nilt high command. The net was tightening. It was only a matter of time.

OOC:
PN: Isn't it a little too much to stop a few ships and a tanker? I posted my forces as being the 1st Defense fleet, they are always there and it's their job to defend the territorial waters. Assigning such a force to this, it's kind of unrealistic.

SECRET COMMUNIQUE
ATTENTION: PACIFIC WESTERIA, BARILOCHE, NILT

MESSAGE FOLLOWS...

The Dominion of LeberMac's special ops teams arrived on-station last night, surveying some of the many islands dotting the coastline of the Dominion's territorial waters.

At last report, the chemical agent detector patches carried by the team members have been acting like a trail of bread crumbs, leading towards a grouping of small islands nearest to Nilt, approximately 300 nautical miles from their coastline, apparently just outside the incredibly massive blockade maintained by the Armed Forces of Pacific Northwesteria.

Observations from the forward units of the special ops platoon indicated a large number of Zodiac fast boats and several ocean-worthy hydrofoils clustered around a remote part of one of these islands. Activity was observed between the hydrofoils and some kind of base inside the island. Specifically, weaponized canisters were seen being removed from the hydrofoils and loaded onto the Zodiac fast attack craft, as well as transported into the island's interior.

At night fell on Sunday, March 28, the Hydrofoils (presumably emptied of their cargo) disembarked and left the island on a east-northeast heading, ostensibly for another rezevendous with the tanker ships.

As of this moment, The Dominion of LeberMac has transmitted the last known coordinates and headings of the hydrofoils to the massive fleet that Pacific Northwesteria has mobilized between this terrorist base of operations and the coast of Nilt. With the massive firepower of the fleet, these blockade runners should not get far, and may in fact lead the interception fleet to the location of the two remaining tankers.

Activity at the terrorist island stronghold as of 21:00 hours was negligible, initial ground forces estimate put the terrorist troop strength at around 500. No overt defensive measures have been observed, although this island is well known in archaeological circles as Lord Sardukar's Battlement, after a defeated former king from the SpyMac mainland who was driven here by united tribal armies around 2,000 years ago. Legend has it that although the ultra-paranoid king's forces never returned from the isle, his treacherous traps and snares still litter the island, making it extremely treacherous.

Available SpyMac forces in the region:
Three advanced special ops squads (3 X 4 men each, 12 men total)
Three silent Zodiac boats for island-to-island transportation
One UH-60 Blackhawk helocopter with surface radar capability, unarmed.

Location of SpyMac forces:
Adjacent island due south from the terrorist island, approximately .5 km away, the straits between the islands are calm during the day but due to tidal action they become quite treacherous at night.

The Dominion also hereby requests the aid of any and all special ops/ranger/espionage forces at the disposal of Bariloche, Nilt, and Pacific Westeria in a joint assault on this compound.

The Dominion furthermore also requests that Pacific Northwesteria allow the rezevendous between the hydrofoils and the tankers to occur, preferring capture to outright destruction of these ships, in order to allow interrogation of the terrorists who have apparently been able to operate within Dominion-controlled territory.

END COMMUNIQUE

(OOC: Should we get some terrorist nation to come in and play the part of the terrorists?)

OOC: All the terrorist nations around here seem to be "LONG LIVE THE JIHAD, EVERYONE SHALL DIE!!!" and not really serious RPers. Did anyone want to take up my offer?

======From The Office of The Unreal Soldier======
I am offering the use of Sentinel, the security system of our most advanced technology center Black Mesa. Sentinel is equipped with SecuriSat, an extremely advanced network of sensory equipment, capable of finding small amounts of chemicals and radioactive material to a very close proximity. It is capable of finding a liter of the specified chemical or material to within a 3 meter range.

URGENT MESSAGE FROM DOMINION OF LEBERMAC COMMAND
ATTENTION:THE OFFICE OF THE UNREAL SOLDIER

We are aware of the vaunted Sentinel system, which your nation has used to defend itself from several NBC attacks. If you are offering the use of this detection system, the Dominion of Lebermac hereby requests that you train its sensors on the island located in the far northeastern quadrant of our coastal island chain. We suspect that indeed several terrorists have co-opted our security forces and have set up a chlorine gas chemical weapons facility on or about this island. If you can pinpoint the location of the facility, we have special ops teams in place to take action.

Additionally, we are aware of massive forces from the nations of PACIFIC WESTERIA, BARILOCHE, and NILT who are currently searching for two remaining seagoing tankers filled with the same chlorine gas. Unfortunately, due to the incredibly robust deployment of forces from PACIFIC WESTERIA, the sheer number of air and surface contacts may not allow the Sentinel system to accurately pinpoint the location of these tankers. It is rumored that one could actually WALK from The Dominion of LeberMac to the shores of Nilt without getting your feet wet, the forces are so thick in the area.

END MESSAGE

Stalis could only stand in the Command Tent near ground zero. Another signal came in.

"Sir! The second tanker has just launched. Heading fast for our island province of Neo-Nilt."

"DAMN! They have few defenses...Private, prep my chopper for takeoff. I'm taking personal command of the fleet."

"Sir?"

"Do it! I'm not a general for just standing around. I'm going to the RNS Helix. Our flagship. Also, inform The Unreal Soldier that we'd like to invest in the system they offered us."

bump

OOC: Sorry for the delay, had to work after school

Several hours ago Sentinel was activated to its highest setting, and has been focusing on the coordinates for the islands in which the terrorists are believed to be hiding.

The most current chemical solutions have shown a rather high concentration of Chlorine on a particular island. However, we ask that a large percentage of the aircraft be removed from the zone surrounding these islands, as their exhaust and heat create a haze which may affect our findings. My technicians do advise that ground forces be readied to invade, however, as above average readings have been found.

Perhaps most importantly is the finding of 2 sea vessels currently in a shallow cove on the northside of a cliff. It has been confirmed that these two vessels contain Chlorine, and one seems to have taken some sort of damage or may be punctured, as it is leaking. The location coordinates of this cove are being sent to all nations involved in this conflict so they may be recovered. It seems that they are currently holding these or preparing something on the island for them.

Updates will be posted immediately.

The Unreal Soldier

Operation Thunderclap begins...

The transmitter squaked, and Major Amarillo snatched it with his free hand, keeping the binocs in his other hand trained on the island across the straits.
"Signet this is Touchstone. Signet this is Touchstone. Authenticate and prepare for coded transmission. Challenge is Joliet. Authenticate."
Amarillo handed off the binocs to Sgt. Pressley with a look of frustration as he fumbled in the cold and the dark for his authentication sheet. Three days in the elements on a bleak island cliff face with only seagulls and his squad members for company, waiting for orders. Ah, this was the life.
Yet another pair of Mig-29's from Westeria screeched overhead in their relentless search pattern as he keyed the mike in response, "Touchstone this is Signet. I Authenticate Formosa. Formosa. Confirm." Not like those savages have the technology to break this quantum fractal encryption, but you never know..., Amarillo thought to himself while the dull whine of the trailing Mig's approach doppler-swiched to a low moan as it sped overhead and away from them to the southwest. He'd put in over twenty years in the Dominion's special ops program, and one of the things you never did was underestimate your adversary. With the black market between terrorist nations nowadays, there's no telling what kind of technology a well-funded extremist group could get its hands on...
The fading roar of the Mig's afterburner was interrupted by the transmitter's squak again, "Touchstone confirms. Signet you are to designate multiple targets on south side of objective for airburst high-yield explosive. Prepare for coordinated designation event - at 22:00 hours, approximately 23 hours ETA."
Jesus Christ, Amarillo wondered, What the hell's over there that's got the whole world so worked up? He gave the signal to round up the remaining two squads, they were going to need all three laser designators in order to hit The Zodiacs, the docks, and the base, which was farther inland.
"Roger Touchstone. Signet confirms laser designation tasking. Who's delivering the package? Over." Amarillo knew full well that the Dominion's forces didn't have any aircraft capable of carrying the "Daisy-Cutter" fuel-air explosive devices, which meant that one of the other nations involved was probably raring to go, more than willing to test out its expensive hardware on Dominion Territory. He shook his head, envisioning the destruction these weapons would wreak on the island. On the plus side, perhaps they'd wipe out a few of the damn seagulls.
"Signet, package delivery is at this point undetermined and on a need-to-know basis. Maintain radio silence until next communication window. Touchstone out."
Figures, Amarillo mused. Just enough rope to hang myself with. He motioned Pressley over with a gesture, and instructed him to begin moving the three squads into their concealment positions for the laser-designation duty that was to come. He didn't like the fact that the Dominion was relying on outside help for this operation, but with the regional threat level jacked sky-high with the disappearance of those other two tankers, he would welcome all the help he could get. He wondered if the other nations would help out with the cleanup as well; going in to perform the BDA with only 12 team members was risky, even if they WERE all advanced special ops. He decided to concentrate on the task at hand, and began to plan out the concealment positions and the watch rotations.

OOC: Who's delivering the bombs? Are the two tankers docked on the north side of the same island or on another island, closer to Nilt? Where are the hydrofoils?

The Terrorists...

O'Connor slid out of the Zodiac, sure that his team had made it across the straits without being seen. The leftist fools and their allies were making more noise than progress, and the constant overflights had masked their crossing. He'd chosen to land on the southern side and make his way across to his destination inland.

They gathered weapons from their drypacks and discarded their neoprene wetsuits in favor of fatigues and greasepaint. Their trap had been sprung, and although they had lost one of the tankers, the other two were being slowly offloaded, the deadly canisters were being filled, and soon Bariloche would see the error of their free-thinking ways. The hordes of Zodiac boats would easily slip through the larger and slower ships of the 1st fleet of Bariloche's defense force and make their attack on the pathetic leftist population centers. Each Zodiac was specially equipped with chemical-warhead surface-to-surface Harpoon-style missiles; many of the fast-attack boats would be destroyed in glory, sacrificing themselves for the cause against the college-state. All it would take would be one or two boats to slip through the net, and thousands would perish in righteous pain. O'Connor smiled at the thought. It would be glorious.

As his recon team of 8 terrorists made its way up the beach after hiding the Zodiac, O'Connor reflected on his good fortune on being chosen to lead this mission. He feared and admired the great leader of his cause, who was never seen and never questioned. When he was personally asked to cross the treacherous straits with his team to the southern island and set up an observation outpost, he agreed without thought: such was his conditioning. The cliff face on the smaller southern island made the perfect vantage point to keep watch on the new base on the larger island across the straits. The great leader was wise to have sent him here.

O'Connor lead his team north, across the small island, up the sloping cliffs to his destination. It was going to be a hard march across difficult terrain, but the words of the great leader spurred him onward in his righteous mission. They should be there within the day. Little did he know that another team would already occupy his vantage point, plotting the destruction of his great leader...

This is an OOC post:
1) Wow, wait a sec, did you agree with Nilt to RP the terrorists? If you didn't, then please back off.

2) Nilt hasn't still explained any reasons on how the terrorists could know of the military help Bariloche was giving (even if I asked him too), they only know I gave humanitarian help as PN did at the beginning.

3) Missiles? All they've got is a tanker with CHLORINE, with appropiate equipment it's harmless.

Until Nilt starts RPing and everything is clarified I won't move a finger and this situation is freezed in time for me.

OOC: Okay, waiting for Nilt... I'll go along with whatever he(she) wants to do. I'm sure that I can still write my way out of this one...

Stalic was trying to figure out some.

"Private...how the hell did the terrorist figure out we were getting help from Bariloche?"

"I don't know sir...Perhaps an inside man.."

"Hm...makes sense. Who do you think it might be?"

"...Sir, I've never really trusted the Minister of Defense., Duke Disal."

Stalis nodded. "He has been acting rather odd...Private...I want you to place him under arrest. Get information from him. With torture if needed."

"Torture sir?"

"Yeah...we never took part in the Geneva convention. This isn't conventional war anyway. Any betrayal shall be met with pain.", said Stalis, a broader look on his face.

"Aye sir."

Stalis turned his attention back to ground zero as a tear ran down his face.

"All those souls..."

"Wait... now they're saying that we sent TOO MUCH?" shouted President Zwimbala of Pacific Northwesteria. "Uh, yessir", said the Minister of the Armed Forces, reddening noticably. "It appears that our overreaction has caused a sensor problem. I suggest we scale down our force, and keep it as a reserve on the targeted coastlines in case the first line of blockade is breached. We should also decrease the number of planes in the air... have them ready and fueled, but on the carriers." "Very well", said the President. Withdraw the following forces to form a second line of defense:
2 Mackensen Class Battleships
4 Thunder Child Class Battleships
4 Skjold Class
1 Infusion Class carrier
1 Lunar Class stealth carrier
6 Sea Wolf Class Submarines
200 ACLCs, with the tanks and heavy firepower (the special ops landing craft remain in the area, undetected)

This revises the forces in the blockade to:
2 Mackensen Class Battleships
2 Thunder Child Class Battleships
3 Orion Class
5 Defiance Class Frigates
2 Infusion Class carriers
1 Lunar Class carrer
4 Sea Wolf Class Subs
20 ACLC with special ops and supplies

There will be 20 MiG-29s and 20 Su-33s in the air at all times, with additional planes ready to launch. 4 DD-1 B advanced high-altitude recon planes move to examine every inch of the island with chlorine. 4 DD-1 A high-altitude heavy precision bombers move into position to home JDAMs in to the laser tags of the special ops. The noose begins to close on the terrorists.

The view from the craggy cliff had been unchanged for over a week, and there had been no word from "Touchstone" regarding their bombing package. Ahh, the life of a soldier, thought Major Amarillo, long stretches of boredom punctuated by brief bursts of sheer terror. A thin smile crossed his face as the long-range orbital radar feed from Sentinel displayed the forces of Pacific Northwesteria breaking off their hyperaggressive search pattern and splitting their forces into a more sensible "defense-in-depth" formation. At least the constant overflights wouldn't keep him awake during rack time anymore.

A quick resupply from their nearest military base (70 miles over water to the mainland) had lifted their spirits, but waiting on an objective made soldiers sloppy, and he knew it. If no word was received by the Dominion of LeberMac from any of the higer-ups at Nilt, his mission would most likely be scrubbed and he'd have come within a hair's breadth of taking out a terrorist base only to be extracted due to the lethargic diplomatic process. "Politicians", he spat. Give me men of action, not words.

"Sorry, didn't copy that, sir." chimed in Pressley, his second.
"Nothing, Pressley," replied Amarillo, "What's the PN fleet doing now?"
"Looks like a partial withdrawl to a defense-in-depth position, sir. About half the surface combatants heading towards Bariloche in a defensive sweep, and the other half realigning to cover the existing search area."
Amarillo cocked an eyebrow, "What about the subs and those special ops landing craft?"
"Haven't been able to get a fix on the subs, but we didn't see the special ops landing craft bug out with the others, so I assume they're still around somewhere," Pressley guessed.
"Damn right they're out there," said Amarillo, biting his lower lip in thought, which Pressley knew was a sure sign that the Major was plotting something. "Pressley, get Touchstone on the horn and find me a secure channel to diplomatic corps."
Pressley wavered slightly -diplomatic?- and then understood. Opportunity waits for no man. With each passing day their chance of surprising the terrorists in the island opposite them decreased, while their enemies only weaponized more and more chlorine. It was time to act, time to take risks, time for reckoning.
He picked up the secure connection and broadcast a satellite signal to the Dominion's military comm center, breaking communication silence.

"What was that?" hissed O'Connor as his comms specialist jumped as if surprised by the detection of the sudden strong signal.
The young comms specialist, relatively untrained with his high-tech gear, shrugged his shoulders, ignored the squak, and continued to set up his gear for communication with the island across the strait, when he noticed O'Connor striding toward him.
"Fool!" screamed O'Connor as he hit the youngster across the cheekbone with the butt of his rifle, knocking him to the ground easily. "Who else could be broadcasting from the island? Do you not think that others might be watching us as well?"
The comms specialist tried to reply, "Sir, I beg you, please, the signal was merely static, there was no message--", but was cut off with a look that told him that more words were futile.
"It doesn't matter WHAT was being broadcast," O'Connor said in a venomous tone, "All that matters is that there was a BROADCAST. Get your ass off the ground and see if you can at least pinpoint for me the location of this signal."
The cowed specialist scuffled to his feet and began fiddling with the knobs and dials, in an all-too apparent way displaying his lack of knowledge of the expensive system.
Like pearls before swine... O'Connor mused. He shook his head slowly and turned his thoughts towards the unexpected signal. There is someone else on this island, he thought, Someone who most likely now knows of our plans, and perhaps of our capabilities. He had to notify his great leader, but how? Certainly if there were forces from Nilt or Bariloche or Pacific Northwesteria he would have seen them land, but what about the Dominion? Heh, he realized, That was the answer. Forces from the Dominion were already on this island, spying on his great leader's stronghold, aware only too late that their own lands had been used as a base for international terrorism. That explained the static signal - The Dominion's forces used quantum-fractal-encryption that was virtually unbreakable, which would sound like mere static if intercepted. He knew what he must do.
He would eliminate these LeberMac interlopers, these Dominion spies. He would hunt them down like dogs and he would be rewarded by the great leader, he was sure. Taking two of his best men, he hoisted the 6 RPG's (two each should be enough) and made his way to the north side of the island, the only logical observation point across the straits. He bade the rest of his team stay behind and out of sight until he returned. This was not a job for amateurs.

SECRET

URGENT COMMUNIQUE TO FOLLOWING PARTIES:
NILT, BARILOCHE, PACIFIC NORTHWESTERIA

MESSAGE FOLLOWS...

Terrorist activity has been detected on islands of the Dominion of LeberMac, nearest the nation of Nilt. Due to recent border exercises, our military forces are currently not in position to strike. Advanced special operations teams from the Dominion are in the area, and have had the terrorist base of operations under observation for several days.

We have a firing solution. We request that aerial support be called in that can utilize our laser designators for accurate aiming, as we have designated three targets on the terrorist island. Target Charlie is a dock area where chlorine gas is offloaded for processing. Target Epsilon is a landing area where fast attack boats are being fitted with short-range surface-to-surface missile launchers (SSM's), launchers we think capable of utilizing special weaponized chlorine warheads. Target Zeta is the base of operations and manufacturing plant where we believe the chlorine is temporarily stored before being loaded onto the Zodiac fast attack boats.

We request that any nation able to carry out a fast-strike conventional bombardment of those positions reply to the Dominion of LeberMac of its capability and the amount of time it would take to complete such a mission. We specifically request that 15,000-pound high-yield fuel-air explosive bombs, "daisy-cutters", be used, capable of being laser-guided to their target, no atomics please. If necessary, the Dominion will supply three laser-guiding devices that can attach to normal "dumb" munitions. Any special ops troops that can be spared to storm the island after the strike to perform mop-up operations and a battle damage assessment would also be appreciated, as our forces in the area are slim.

In addition, there are still rumored to be two tanker ships and several hydrofoils operating in the area. With the reduced forces of Pacific Northwesteria, the Sentinel detection system should be able to exactly pinpoint the terrorist-controlled ships for a quick elimination strike by either Nilt or Pacific Northwesteria.

We await the orders of Supreme General Stalis of the Nation of Nilt, who must still be reeling from the effects of the nuclear "accident." The Dominion of LeberMac will defer to the general in all matters regarding this current crisis.

END COMMUNIQUE

Bariloche starts deploying the forces of the Naval Guard with General Feodor Sergev of the Navy in charge. The fast and highly maneuverable crafts are extremely efficient at delaying and destroying small targets. Supplies ships (including tankers) and small diesel/cell attack subs are to support them for short-timed but deep-reaching and continual opperations into international waters.

Secret OOC:
LeberMac: My intel guys are still in Nilt and there are local connections (most likely they are ALL locals) so, if you're going to role them you've got to send me intel info to me for RPing the findings. BTW, encryption is of no importance if Nilt have moles in their forces.

To everyone: Nilt turned into a Corrupt Dictatorship, don't expect me to help their government at all. I'm even thinking on helping overthrow the government from the inside, if the government of Bariloche finds out about their actions RPing, of course. The people is all that matters to Bariloche politics and legitimation rules.

One more thing, no one get offended, but if I find that one or more nations involved are puppets of Nilt, you'll pay. So... if you are and don't want any IGNORING punishment, talk now and be forgiven.

IC:
Public statement by Pablo Bernal, President of the Community of Bariloche; 8th April 1400hs GMT-3, Llao Llao:

The reports of our inteligence agency and of our temporal allies in the situation regarding the terrorist attacks in Nilt are alarming. It has been stablished that forces of these terrorists are planning targetting our nation with a chemical attack, we do not understand this, since the terrorists have not stated their intentions nor the government of Nilt has explined the local situation that leaded to this.

We expect the terrorists to reach us and the rest of the involved nations to explain their actions. The government of Bariloche will most certainly be open to discuss their cause. But as far as we know, the attacks in Nilt were unprovoked and the government of Nilt would have dialogued with this organization if their cause was legitimate.

We will not allow that such an organization, which holds as its cause only to have power over a sovereign people's nation using terror and murder as its tools, to harm our population, or anyone else for that matter. If the situation gets worse, we will not hesitate to call on our brother allies of the Legion of Defense, which are sure to give us all the aid needed.

That is all for now, good luck, and godspeed to our nation's forces in the seas.

"Excellent!", shouted Admiral Michaels. "Finally, some ACTION! No more waiting." He took a moment to gather his thoughts and plan the maneuver, and then began giving out rapid-fire orders. "Sergeant Major... get the birds in the air. 80 MiGs and 100 Su-s. NOW! And redirect our heavy bombers to get in position. All this must be coordinated. See if we can interface with the laser-guidance systems in the area. Given a few minutes, we should be able to adapt. As for surface ships, we can only spare 1 Thunderchild for bombardment. We must maintain the security net, or all will be lost. As soon as the forces are in range and we have coordinates, let me know immediately." The Admiral would take pleasure in the simultaneous explosion of 100 tons of warheads. "Oh, and based on information from LM, start moving our special forces craft towards the coast. Take it slow, now... run silent. And Major?" "Yes, Admiral?" "Tell them to lock and load." "Yessir, Admiral."

The LCD readout on Major Amarillo's multifunction GPS digital wristwatch slowly ticked the minutes by. The three squads of his team remained silent, enough so he could almost hear the heartbeat of the man next to him, which happened to be Sgt. Pressley. Pressley was motioning toward Amarillo's vest where he kept the satellite linkup.

The incoming message light was blinking.

SHIT thought Amarillo. He rolled onto his back, adjusted the antenna to aim the directional signal roughly at the patch of sky that the satellite should be in, and turned the mike on.

"... in Signet. Repeat, Signet this is Touchstone. Signet respond."
"Signet here" Amarillo whispered into the mike. He may as well have shouted to his team, they all adjusted their positions to see who was making all the racket.

"Signet, glad to hear you're awake. Touchstone challenge is Guideline, repeat Guideline."

"I authenticate Trigger. Trigger. So, Touchstone, what's the verdict? Do we have a 'go'?" Amarillo impatiently asked.

"Touchstone confirms authentication. Signet begin immediate laser designation of three primary targets. Air strike missions from external entity 'Willamette' are inbound, ETA 26 minutes. Approach vector is 035. Communication with lead strike aircraft on delta band rotating FM frequency 130 MHz. Prep for contaminants and wear NBC suits, aftermath chlorine chemical concentrations will be high. Signet confirm."

Willamette, thought Amarillo. That means someone over at Pacific Northwesteria's ready to come over and play. Good deal. They're probably as bored as we are.

"Signet confirms tasking. Beginning target designation now. Signet Out.", Amarillo gave the signal to his men to begin laser designation. He blinked once while looking far left, and through his enhanced multispectral contact lenses, he saw the laser beams reach out through the evening sky and shine bright lights of laser targeting data on the three objectives. He looked far right and blinked again, and his normal vision returned.
"All squads, all squads," Amarillo whispered into the mike, "designation test over. Don NBC gear, remain in position and re-designate in exactly 20 minutes from...now."

Amarillo switched communication mikes and keyed his frequency to 130 MHz. Let's see what PN's sending our way... He pulled up the Sentinel display and whistled.

The system displayed 80 MiG's, 100 SU-s, some heavy bombers and one of those scary Thunderchild battleships converging on the target position.Well, Amarillo mused, Pacific Northwesteria's never been one to UNDERestimate the level of force required... It was time to give the PN forces the heads-up. The strike and fighter aircraft needed their marching orders, the heavy bombers needed to know where to drop the "daisy-cutter" bombs, and the battleship needed a place to aim its shells and missiles. He let the interface software work to adapt the Dominion of LeberMac's audio feed to PN's, and began his introductions in his best airline captain's voice:
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is Major Amarillo and I'll be your tour guide this evening. If you happen to look out your bomb bay doors you'll see three, that's right THREE friendly laser designation targets set up by your allies at the Dominion of LeberMac. Remember to keep hands and arms inside your canopy at all times during this engagement, and remember that we in the Dominion know that you have a choice when choosing your laser designation team, and we thank you for choosing LeberMac..."
Ah, I LOVE messing with the flyboys... Amarilo chuckled to himself.
In 20 minutes, there was gonna be some serious fireworks going off. Amarillo finished the targeting briefing to the PN lead pilots (and battleship captain) and wriggled into his NBC suit. The suits were stuffy, bulky, and you couldn't hear a damn thing when you were in 'em.

**********************************************
OOC:
PN, you have a green light. Blast the f'ers, do your own BDA and you decide whether there's still any island left after you're done. ;)

Bariloche- Your special ops in the area may be needed before the night is over. Remember, we have terrorists sneaking up behind our Dominion advanced special ops team, and those laser-guided bombs that PN is dropping go wherever the lasers point...

And I have no idea if Nilt is reading this thread, even. That's why I'm concentrating on only RPing the stuff on my island(s). Hellooooo General Stalis? .......Bueller?......Bueller?

Admiral Michaels had just received the "go", and was working on his plan of battle. There were no enemy aircraft, or even naval vessels of any decent size, and so it was easy to get overconfident. But not this admiral.
The first to arrive over the island were 4 DD-1 Bs, taking one-foot resolution pics of every square mile of the island from 80,000 feet, in regular visual, infrared, EM emissions. The data was analyzed by computers, and particularly interesting snapshots were sent to the LM team on the ground. 20 heat sources, 200 yards behind them. The terrorists had obviously been hoping for the element of surprise, but now it was the special ops that had the advantage. Along with the photos came an offer for special ops/air support, if needed.
The terrorists in their base were stunned by what happened next. 180 aircraft, each firing 4 laser-guided missiles (thanks LM), simultaneously peppered the three designated targets. A few seconds earlier, the 4 DD-1 As dropped their daisy cutters. Right as the missiles were being launched, Admiral Michaels ordered his 16 22" guns to be fired, as well as his 9 5"ers. All ordinance landed within 2 seconds of each other, in a systematic spread, destroying the three buildings, as well as multiple basement floors below them. The ground shook violently, and the sound of the blasts were deafening. Special ops and terrorists alike were curled in the fetal position, covering their ears with whatever they had handy, despite their sound-proof suits. Some of them bleeding slightly from the ears, the special ops remembered their discipline, and took up positions waiting for the terrorists.
All of the terrorists still in or around the buildings were incinerated instantly. A massive cloud of chlorine gas erupted from one of them, and began spreading across the island, thrown in all directions by the concussive power of the daisy-cutters.
OOC: I'll let you rp your own special ops... you know about their training and weapons. Let me know when/if to join in... do your special ops guys have any experience calling down 22" shells?

IC:
All but 4 planes (3 MiGs, 1 Su) returned to their carriers. These four, together with the DD-1 Bs, provided air support and intel. The DD-1 As returned to their bases in Pacific Northwesteria to reload, refuel and rearm.
The thunderchild is still in the area, its 3-D radar system attempting to supplement the intel.
Admiral Michaels stood proudly aboard the bridge of the Thunderchild. Beaming at his officers, who had just had their first real action besides training, he marveled at the wonders of modern warfare. Hell, they hadn't even SEEN the enemy.

OOC:
My special ops team is still in Nilt; ready to go if needed, but over there. I'm talking about my spies, which by now should have gathered quite an amount of info.

And remember that no military activity will be recognized under Bariloche's flag.

Remind me to buy my nukes elsewhere.... :shock:

Dont buy nukes, buy our FAR-11 (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=138303) assault rifle!

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OOC:Meh. Sorry I haven't posted in a bit.

IC:

Stalis stood on the deck of the flagship Helix, an old Essex class carrier.

http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/images/h97000/h97340.jpg

Staring out over the water. He had heard of what happened to his governement. Corrupt. He only wish he could change it, but desperate times called for desperate measure.

"Ensign Dales.", he calls.

"Sir?"

"When this whole thing is over, I want to give full military access to all countries that have helped us. I want to give them permission to build as many bases as they desire."

"Aye sir."

Stalis continues looking over the water, the wind blowing in his face. He looks around to notice the escorts. All of his ships were aging like mad. Relics from World War II but they were very reliable.

7 Flash Deck Class Destroyers
http://www.digitalnavy.com/ren6.jpg

2 New Orleans class Cruisers
http://www.compass.dircon.co.uk/NewOrleans.JPG

1 Iowa Class Battleship
http://www2.mimer.no/~ivaknu01/shipimg/iowa.jpg

His fleet's air force was comprised of 40 Hellcats

http://www.warbirdalley.com/images/hellcat-01.jpg

bump

Admiral Michaels, looking across the waters at Nilt's aging Navy, felt his old memories coming back to him. These ships had served him well during the war, and he knew that they were well built. It was a bittersweet moment, because he knew that in real combat they would be obsolete. The hellcats, elite during the war in the Pacific, could now be shot down without the pilots even seeing the enemy plane. The naval vessels could all be destroyed from beyond the range of their radars. Their anti-aircraft fire would do nothing against a bomber flying at 70+ thousand feet. He prayed that Nilt would save these relics, and cherish their history, but not send men into battle to die on their flaming hulks. He hadn't heard from the LM special ops yet, and it worried him. Were they alright? He thought he'd send some recon to check. Meanwhile, he raised them on his polyfractal incripted radio. "Signet, come in. This is Willamette. Signet, come in. Hello? Anyone there? Bueller? Bueller?"

Admiral Michaels, looking across the waters at Nilt's aging Navy, felt his old memories coming back to him. These ships had served him well during the war, and he knew that they were well built. It was a bittersweet moment, because he knew that in real combat they would be obsolete. The hellcats, elite during the war in the Pacific, could now be shot down without the pilots even seeing the enemy plane. The naval vessels could all be destroyed from beyond the range of their radars. Their anti-aircraft fire would do nothing against a bomber flying at 70+ thousand feet. He prayed that Nilt would save these relics, and cherish their history, but not send men into battle to die on their flaming hulks. He hadn't heard from the LM special ops yet, and it worried him. Were they alright? He thought he'd send some recon to check. Meanwhile, he raised them on his polyfractal incripted radio. "Signet, come in. This is Willamette. Signet, come in. Hello? Anyone there? Bueller? Bueller?"

Admiral Michaels, looking across the waters at Nilt's aging Navy, felt his old memories coming back to him. These ships had served him well during the war, and he knew that they were well built. It was a bittersweet moment, because he knew that in real combat they would be obsolete. The hellcats, elite during the war in the Pacific, could now be shot down without the pilots even seeing the enemy plane. The naval vessels could all be destroyed from beyond the range of their radars. Their anti-aircraft fire would do nothing against a bomber flying at 70+ thousand feet. He prayed that Nilt would save these relics, and cherish their history, but not send men into battle to die on their flaming hulks. He hadn't heard from the LM special ops yet, and it worried him. Were they alright? He thought he'd send some recon to check. Meanwhile, he raised them on his polyfractal incripted radio. "Signet, come in. This is Willamette. Signet, come in. Hello? Anyone there? Bueller? Bueller?"

OOC:bump.

This RP is turning out so much better than I expected :D

OOC: I know. I just wish people would start posting again...

Major Amarillo was flying through the air.

He tried to remember what had led to his sudden airborne condition, but his head felt like it had been filled with jello, and he was completely disoriented. He snapped his head around, noticed the ground approaching and landed awkwardly with a bone-splintering crack on his right side near a thicket outcrop, ripping his NBC suit to shreds, sending stabs of pain through his torso. He blacked out.

The concussion blast wave, at this near a distance (0.5 km), of the near-simultaneous detonation of 720 ground attack warheads, three fuel-air explosive "daisy cutters", and a full round of multiple 22" and 9" shells approximated a low-yield (~10 kiloton) nuclear device. The blast wave spread out across the straits like thunder, parting them like the red sea, and hit the opposing cliff on the southern island hard. The advanced special-ops forces, perched on their vantage points on the opposing cliff, could see that the blast wave was coming but had little time to react. The explosive force blew almost vertically up the cliff, catching many of the observation team members and sending them airborne, back toward the island's center. Most of the team was able to head away from the cliff face, away from the blast wave, before a large section of the cliff collapsed. Two members of Alpha squad, the nearest to the objective, were lost in the resulting landslide.

It was the smell more than the pain that woke him. Chlorine gas. Amarillo winced and rolled onto his left side. He was hurt badly, but he could sit up. His communications gear was smashed, but he still had his sidearm. He had no idea where he was on the island, but at least he was alive. Good news, bad news. He thought to himself. The thicket rustled near him, and he went for his sidearm as quickly as he could, spinning around to see the face of... Sgt. Pressley.

"Damn, Sir!," Pressley exclaimed in a much louder-than-necessary voice, "You OK?" Pressley had grabbed a wet cloth and was covering his face and eyes as much as possible, probably due to the toxins in the air, but they apparently had diminished enough to be relatively unharmful at this point, since Pressley was without his NBC gear.

"Pressley, what's the situation?" demanded Amarillo. He could barely hear his own voice.

"Well, the PN flyboys launched a HELL of a lot more ordnance than we anticipated, looks like they blew the entire northern island island to kingdom come. Blast wave took out part of our cliff face, and we lost Rivera and Essex in the landslide. Rest of our team is OK, couplea concussions, two broken legs. I linked up with the backup transmitter and we have helos inbound from the mainland for evac and medical," reported Pressley.

Amarillo tested his balance and found he was able to stand. He surveyed his belongings, and found that the shiny new Sentinel uplink control device from The Unreal Soldier was damaged beyond repair. Too bad, that; but it had managed to break his fall, the composite casing took a lot of the brunt. He'd send the bill to Pacific Northwesteria.

Amarillo draped one arm over Pressley and they began to walk down towards the extraction point, joining up with the other members of beta and gamma squads. Amarillo couldn't believe he'd lost men to this operation. He was sure that there would be inquiries, there always were when more than one nation got into the ballgame. For now, he was content to limp back to the rest of his team and congratulate them on a job well-done.

O'Connor's eyes stung and his ears were ringing like the bell choir back at St. Mary's parish. What in Christ's name was that? He thought. He remembered hearing the low rumble of what seemed like a giant thunderclap, and then the shock wave had come down on him and his team like a fury.

He had been in the middle of scaling part of the cliff face, intending to surprise the foolish Dominion spies by sneaking up literally right under their noses. O'Connor in the lead, with his two companions below him struggling to keep up on the difficult ascent. The blast wave had caught them, pinned them to the cliff face and then dashed their bodies against the surf and rocks one hundred feet below. They had died for the cause as martyrs, O'Connor reflected. He gave them little thought as he assessed his position:

He had obviously been blown into the air and towards the island's center, luckily landing in a patch of sandy soil; he was uninjured. One RPG was damaged beyond repair with a bent tube, but the grenade itself was salveagable. The other RPG was remarkably none the worse for wear, and his Kalishnikov rifle seemed to be in good order. He may have suffered a mild concussion, but he pocketed the grenade warhead from the damaged RPG, brushed himself off, and made his way back to a vantage point to survey the damage to his base.

What he saw shocked him, and he was not a man used to being shocked at violence.
The island's lagoon was gone. The docks and Zodiac landing platforms looked like they had been scooped out of the earth, the craters were so large. The entire island had been completely denuded of vegetation, nothing was left standing taller than a foot or so. He could see all the way into the interior of the island - where once Forest had hidden the base, now he could clearly see the base, or at least what was left of it. There could be only one explanation for this level of destruction: The Dominion of LeberMac bastards MUST have used nuclear weapons on his organization.

The wheels spun furiously in O'Connor's head. He hadn't seen any flash of light or mushroom cloud, but then again, he HAD been unconcious for a while. Being this close to any nuclear detonation, he should be dead; but he had been spared. Yes, spared by God to bring swift justice on those responsible. The radiation would of course soon kill him; O'Connor knew that being this close to a nuclear blast, radiation would kill him in hours, he probably had less than a day to live. He would indeed martyr himself this day, it was just a matter of how many enemies he could take with him.

A day to pay back the Dominion forces for their attack. He started to make his way back toward his landing craft and the remaining 5 members of his team, who he hoped had not abandoned him. There was still the matter of completing transactions with other terrorist organizations, and he needed to leave instructions - since he would not, it appeared, be able to make the trip himself. Their supplies of RDX and Chlorine gas may have been eliminated for now, but O'Connor would arrive at a predesignated rezevendous point and receive his instructions from the great leader, who, he was sure, had not been on the island when it blew.

Curious, it seemed that he heard the sounds of helicopters to his south. His ears HAD been affected by the explosion, it seemed unwise to trust them. However, helos meant that the remainder of his team could be detected if they had not hidden themselves well. He hastened his way towards the sound of the helicopters, clutching his RPG with an evil grin...

OOC:
I would assume that the folks on the northern island are, well, pretty much dead. Way to blast'em PN!

There's still sneaky O'Connor on the southern island with the 5 inept terrorists. My extraction point is between them, so O'Connor will have to go through the LZ to get back to his camp.

Up to you other guys (Mainly Bariloche & Nilt) as to what happens with this Duke Disal. But I've laid the groundwork for an international network of terrorist supplies with this RDX explosive thing. The target island will have residue not just from weaponized chlorine, but RDX (a high-explosive compound), which the terrorists were selling on the black market.

Admiral Michaels was looking through pictures from his spy planes, assessing the damage. He grinned... almost all of the terrorists had been wiped out, and their chemical weapons had been rendered useless. Then new pictures began coming in... the landslide... the injured special ops men... damn! he said to himself. I got a bit trigger-happy, didn't I? There's something to be said for doing a thorough job, but not when it compromises the position of your ally. Controlling his emotions with practiced precision, Michaels picked up his phone to call the head of the LM forces. The shaken man on the line confirmed the intel he had gotten... severe injuries, two deaths, possible danger from chlorine. "I assure you, this was unintentional. You are a valuable ally, and good, loyal special ops men are the best around. Your losses will be missed sorely, by your government AND mine. PN will of course pay for all medical treatment, damaged equipment, and an extra $1M bonus for each soldier for their bravery today. The families of the deceased will receive that money as well, of course, as well as the Pacific Northwesteria Star of Valor, the highest award given to foreign personell. I know that this will not erase our grave error, and can never bring back the lost souls from your squad, but it is the best we can do. If there is anything else we can do, just ask."
The LM commander was in too much pain to speak. He didn't need to. Old soldiers have a way of communicating without words.
"I know that it isn't the best time", continued Adm. Michaels, "but our IR surveillance is picking up at least 3 unidentified heat sources approaching your position. I don't think you can make it to evac in time. At this time, 10 helo gun ships are approaching your area. They will set up a high perimeter, and cover your evac. They are armed with 30 and 50 cal. machine guns, 2 of each on each bird, and they should be able to protect you for long enough for you to get out. Although one or two birds could easily take out 3 terrorists, we suspect that there may be more that we don't have intel on yet. I'm not taking any chances. I'm setting up a full perimeter around your men. If they come under heavy fire, and we can't hit them with our attack helos, we can strafe the area with a MiG. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly", said the commander, doubting highly that it would go so smoothly.

Things were looking up for Amarillo and Pressley- they had made it almost to the outer perimiter of the extraction point. Their disorientation had passed and the ringing in their ears had lessened. The trade winds had blown the trace amounts of airborne chlorine out to sea as night fell. One thing was for sure - the amount of dust in the atmosphere had made for quite a spectacular sunset. The sudden popping sound of automatic weapons fire told tham that they weren't out of the woods yet. NOW what... Amarillo thought as he noticed one of the squad commanders headed towards them. It looked like Jenner.

Captain Jenner of Gamma squad came bounding towards the injured Amarillo and Pressley, covered with extra gear, his weapon up and waving his arms wildly, signalling that they should drop to prone. All three men hit the dirt in time to have rounds impact the fallen tree in front of them, which made for good cover in the dark.

"Couldn't just have a nice trip home, could we, Jenner? Who's shooting at us now?" Amarillo grimaced with the air of a man sick of surprises.

"Howdy, boss. Nice to see you, too," Jenner countered as a few more rounds went wildly high of their position, "We've got about 5 badguys on a position overlooking our extraction zone. We picked them out about 30 minutes ago, but we wanted to make sure you made it back OK before we opened up on 'em. Since we had no idea where you were, we didn't want to risk any more casualties today through friendly fire." He handed both Amarillo and Pressley a spare set of night-vision goggles, and both got a a muzzle-flash suppressed H&K MP5 machine gun to replace the ones they'd lost in the explosion. Additionally, he handed Amarillo the spare comm uplink. "Willamette's been trying to get in contact with you. They've got forces in the area that can help, but I was hesitant to direct them in without knowing your location."

"Well, it was awful nice of you not to shoot me, Jenner." Amarillo said through a grin. Taking out a few unfriendlies would be merely light exercise after the day he'd already had. "Gimme the link, I've got one more favor to call in from Willamette. Jenner, have your team designate their firing position, we'll have one more go at this."

The terrorist encampment had plenty of ammo, but their behavior betrayed their lack of training. All five were blasting away with their Kalishnikovs, muzzle flashes giving away their exact position. Only the restraint of the special ops teams had spared their lives so far. They were so concentrated with laying down fire on the special ops extraction point, they barely heard the gunships from Pacific Northwesteria approaching. The invisible laser light was almost unnecessary, the terrorist target was illuminating itself so well. Through the night vision goggles, both groups of special ops could see the pile of terrorist equipment behind them, several drypacks of unknown material, and some comm gear, all stacked neatly. They made a perfect, tightly packed target.

The helos from Pacific Northwesteria swept in from the northeast over the beach, merely darker shadows against the deep violet sky. At the same time, the evac helos from the Dominion flew in from the south and began their extraction of the members of Alpha, Beta, and Gamms squads. They laid down covering fire as Amarillo, Jenner, and Pressley made it to the extraction point. A single team member of Gamma squad remained on the ground, steadfastly illuminating the terrorist units with the designator. The PN gunships were seconds away from obliterating the camp.

A streak of light came from the north, and the terrorist camp exploded in a brilliant fireball that briefly illuminated the surroundings as if it was daylight and made the night-vision goggles temporarily useless.

The gunships hadn't fired a single shot. "Signet, Signet, Report!" they screeched over unsecure channels in the confusion of the moment. "What happened? We haven't fired!"

"Willamette lead gunship, we have not fired. Repeat we have not engaged. Take evasive action for additional threats and begin target acquisition sweep. We're bugging out to the southwest." Amarillo ordered. Well, this certainly has been an interesting night.. he thought as the special ops team boarded the choppers and headed back to the mainland for medical attention and debriefing. Any other operations would have to wait for first light.

The terrorist O'Connor saw what was happening from his vantage point. He had let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and was aware of both groups of special ops teams ahead of him in the darkness. Unfortunately, the rest of his terrorist recon group was stupidly engaging the enemy from a weak position. He shook his head. Amateurs. Martyrs in the making...

He knew what he must do. The plans, documents, and material could not fall into the hands of these enemy forces. Activating the subsonic emergency beacon that would alert the submarine, He shouldered the RPG and took careful, close aim at the neatly stacked drypacks behind his former team. He knew thay contained RDX, a high explosive that the great leader was selling to every organization on the planet with enough cash to buy it. He knew that the resulting explosion would not only easily obliterate his team, but destroy the comms device and perhaps temporarily blind the special ops teams' night vision. He could then make his escape. Of course, he had to worry about infrared tracking, but there was no helping that at the moment. He figured that with the radiation damage, he was a dead man already. But he must report back in somehow, and that meant that his duty to the cause was clear.

He callously squeezed the trigger of the RPG and extinguished the lives of his former comrades as PN choppers thundered overhead. He quickly made his way down to the beach and began to swim. The cold water was treacherous, but would mask his infrared signature well. His subsonic aural transmitter was low-tech enough to be completely overlooked by his current adversaries, and mistaken for whalesong by most sonar operators, save the one that should be waiting for him.

Indeed, the small diesel submarine surfaced briefly once he had made it out 100 yards or so into the surf. He was tired, cold, and hypothermia was setting in - he released the transmitter. A diver came out from inside the sub, roped him up, and the two were winched into the hatch. O'Connor landed on the floor of the sub, exhausted, cold water dripping from him as he lay gasping on the metal mesh floor. Footsteps approached. Metal-soled black boots clanked on steel grating and stopped inches from where his face lay.

"Tell me, my young subject," the familiar voice growled, "what exactly has occured here. I demand answers..."

O'Connor didn't need to look up to know who it was. He was going to have some embarrassing face-to-face explaining to do to his great leader, whom he knew did not accept failure.

The submarine submerges as suddenly as it surfaced, running silently on battery power, away from any threat forces.

OOC:
Okay, terrorists on a quiet submarine, most likely headed back to Nilt to re-group. Time for Bariloche to get some of his special ops in on the action.

My boys'll be back to do a BDA on both islands and look for clues.

Someone should find the remaining tankers.

OOC:
Wouldn't being in cold water make your heat sig stand out even more? It would increase the contrast. Anyway, you forget that I have several (rather good) destroyers in the area, and an old diesel sub can't go very deep. I have my recon planes in the air constantly, refueling in mid-air. I wouldn't have time to hit him before the sub submerged, but I'd know that he was in a sub, and the approximate location and bearing.

OOC:
Wouldn't being in cold water make your heat sig stand out even more? It would increase the contrast. Anyway, you forget that I have several (rather good) destroyers in the area, and an old diesel sub can't go very deep. I have my recon planes in the air constantly, refueling in mid-air. I wouldn't have time to hit him before the sub submerged, but I'd know that he was in a sub, and the approximate location and bearing.

Admiral Michaels was getting the call, from seven different places at once... it was jumbled... something about an explosion with an unknown cause. He instantly summoned the surveillance pics of the area, praising himself on his decision to monitor the area closely. He saw nothing at first, but then he got the IR scans. A sudden flash of heat... somewhere in the forest. There was a picture every 20 seconds, and as he watched on, he could see the figure, visible now under enhancement, moving towards the coast. Then, suddenly, another heat source appeared. Switching to the EM and visible band pictures, he instantly recongnized the heat source. It was an old Soviet sub, back from before the days of nuclear power. These were widely feared, before the days of the great nuclear beasts of the sea. There was one more photo of the sub, and then nothing. He picked up his phone. "Son, the is Admiral Michaels, do you copy?" "Yessir!" "we need sub-hunters in area 0026 ASAP. Tell them they're looking for a Kalgoyev Class submarine... they might have to look that one up. I remember back in my days at Annapolis, that was stada- anyways, sailor, on the double! Get the destroyers in the area as well. Anything with sonar. And get the DD-1 B black widows in the area, too, flying low and slow. Have them switch to high-res, high-sensitivity infrared imaging. If we're really lucky, they'll be near enough to the surface to warm the water slighly, leaving a trail. I'd send my attack subs, but there might be some friendly fire in all the confusion. Anyways, I'm rambling, sailor. You have your orders. Move!"
Midshipman Harroldson hadn't heard the last few sentences. He was already gone. He had come to know the admiral, and knew when all useful information had ceased to come out of him.
After escorting the evac helos back to their bases, the Pacific Northwesteria attack helos returned to their carriers. They had been informed of the situation, and, after refueling, they went out patrolling the waters. Their sonar wasn't the most powerful, but it was better than nothing, and the admiral made it clear that he wanted this sub caught before there was too large of a search radius... or too much water between us and them. All ships in the PN navy were put onto maximum submarine warfare alert. All the carriers and battleships had launched their mosquito anti-sub choppers, and sonar operators had glued their eyeballs to their displays. The hunt for the sub, playfully dubbed the "red october", had begun.
OOC: LM please RP the terrorists, and whether or not I find them. It's pressing my fairness. TG me for info on my forces in the area, if it matters (which it should).

"...Sir, I've never really trusted the Minister of Defense, Duke Disal..."

The Kalgoyev-class submarine had evaded the initial small "picket-line" set of patrols from Pacific Northwesteria and was now poised on a sandy, flat patch of seafloor, silent and brooding in the dark water of the far-south Atlantic. This class of submarines was similar to the old soviet-era Kilo class subs, which were notoriously hard to detect even with the most advanced sonar, and they gave off no engine noise when they ran on the internal batteries. The batteries did not last forever, however...

"It seems that your leadership qualities are not quite up to the level that I anticipated, Mr. O'Connor..." the cowled figure stated in the half-light of the sub's engine room, "..In fact, I might deem your misadventure in reconissance to be wholly botched. Can you... explain your actions, Mr. O'Connor?" His voice exuded calm authority, a reassuring speaking tone with a hint of restrained menace behind it. There was something about the voice that raised the hairs on the back of your neck, as if the voice FELT wrong.

O'Connor stood stiffly in his appropriated Captain's uniform. "I assure you O Great One," O'Connor offered, "there was NO other way. The forces arrayed against us were too great, we had been discovered, it was only a matter of time..."

"What do you know of TIME?" Hissed the great leader, "For you, perhaps TIME is a fleeting moment of unfortunate chance. The mere moments that it took you to unravel years of planning and decades of ambition seem to be but a trifle, excused with a quick apology. Hm?" The great leader whirled and faced O'Connor, their faces a fraction of an inch apart.

O'Connor felt the cold snap of the icy seawater return to him. Although this time the cold was creeping up from the inside.

"Yes, my young fighter. Do you see? Although it was indeed I who ordered you to the southern island, your true purpose was not reconaissance. Is it sinking in now? Yesss... I see that it is. You are to be my escape hatch. My patsy. You will die so that I may live, and plot my own ascencion yet again and further our cause. You will have an honored place in our record of martyrs."

Cutting the conversation short, blissfully unaware of the current situation, the XO of the sub came bumbling down the narrow access tunnel with another of the senior officers and two guards. "Good evening Minister... oh, hello... " he squinted at the nametag and the rank insignia... "Captain O'Connor. Sir. " He saluted. "Welcome aboard.", then addressed the Minister, "Sir, your transport has arrived to take you to the other ships in our wargames convoy. It will be docking soon, you should board as soon as possible, sir.", the XO said.
The docking hatch above them clanked, then three short taps before the inside hatch opened in a spray of cold mist. The smallish inside of a minisub could be seen through the hatch. The great leader grabbed ahold of the ladder and began to climb into the minisub, with his small security detachment.

"I stand relieved, Captain. I hereby give you command of this fine vessel, O'Connor", the fearless leader said with a grin, "May she serve you... as well as you have served me..."
He disappeared into the minisub with a flourish as the XO and his team saluted as O'Connor stood mute, and the 6-man minisub glided quietly off into the deep ocean to the east, towards a rezevendous with another vessel...

O'Connor watched the hatch close, sealing him inside what would surely be his own metal casket.

"Captain O'Connor?" the XO said, "Shouldn't we be resuming our military exercises? It was good of the Minister to temporarily take command in order to pick you up at your rezendevous point. However... we should be underway. The batteries are at 15% and we need to get back to the surface to recharge. Sir?"

O'Connor was numb, from the cold of the perilous seawater swim and from the icy steel shards of betrayal lodged in his back. He must find a way out of this. "XO, do we have communications?"

"Nosir. Our orders from military command were to operate under strict radio silence until contact had been made with our wargame partners, surely the Minister has briefed you?" the XO blubbered.

"No, and there's not much time," O'Connor told the XO. "Take us up to periscope depth as quietly as possible, mister. And get the communications system online, I need to send a message."

"But sir.." the XO protested

"DO IT. NOW!" O'Connor screamed. The officers scattered and O'Connor stormed up to the command center, announcing himself as he entered briskly, "I am Captain O'Connor and I have relieved the Minister as commander of this vessel." The men recognized him as wearing the uniform of a Captain in the Nilt Navy, and accepted his authority because they had been primed to expect a new captain by the Minister, their previous commanding officer. O'Connor had never served a day in the Nilt navy, but he was experienced enough to know how to get around a submarine; he didn't know much about commanding one, though. He glanced into the periscope and saw that several forces from Pacific Northwesteria were within visual range. Three of the surface ships were headed towards his position; his movement had alerted them to his presence. Damn, those PN guys sure do have nice hardware... There was no way out of this mess by fighting. He was sure the minister had seen to that.

"Comm, are you able to transmit yet?" O'Connor shouted over his shoulder.

"Sir, the comms system has been disabled! I can't get a signal out! There's no transmitter signal!" the comms officer shouted.

Of course not... O'Connor realized. The bastard's had this planned from the start. Suddenly they were pinged by active sonar, from a source above them. "Down periscope! Get us out of here! All ahead flank! Dive! Dive!"

The helmsman complied with O'Connor's order, turning the screws to 12 knots, their maximum potential under battery power, and pointing the nose of the ship towards the seafloor. The sub groaned and popped, combining with the cavitating props to create an inviting sonar signal.

"Crap!.. two, no... three, no... SIX Fish in the water!" the sonar operator screamed, "Sir! SIR! They're firing at us! What the hell?" The crew looked at O'Connor as if this was a bad dream, this was supposed to be a wargame scenario.

The warheads homed in faster than O'Connor had anticipated: there would be no escape. He had enough time to look around at the crew in the conn and say this: "Today indeed we are all martyrs for a greater cause of which most of you know nothing. This day our souls will enter heaven and indulge in a new world of pleasantries. Today we are now free..."

Then their current world exploded in a fury of multiple torpedo impacts and depth charges, indeed freeing them all from their lives, and sending them to their graves in the cold, dark depths of the far South Atlantic.

The minisub pulled alongside the Cruiser Jackson after transmitting the proper security clearances. The Minister of Defense crawled out with his security detail and greeted the captain of the Nilt naval vessel. The Jackson was the sister ship to the New Orleans, and was usually assigned to the Essex's carrier battle group. They were out on alert patrol, and had been expecting the Minister to arrive to make an inspection, although not in such a strange vehicle.

"Permission to come aboard..." the Minister requested.

"It's an honor to have you, sir." replied Rear Admiral Kilgore. He looked over their minisub and shrugged. Others had come aboard in stranger ways, but not many. He'd noticed strange behavior with "the Duke" (as they called him) before, The Minister of Defense was known as a secretive man, and he had many comings and goings as the Military commander of the great nation of Nilt.

"Admiral, we have a situation. I have intercepted intelligence from Pacific Northwesteria regarding the engagement of a submarine, possibly one used by terrorists." the Duke said.

"We have one of our subs in the area, the Majestic, sir. I'll see if I can raise them." The Rear Admiral gestured to his aide, who ran off to the comms room.

Majestic thought the Duke, not anymore...

"Sir, I can't raise the Majestic on any frequency, and she's not transmitting." the aide said.

The Rear Admiral cast a sideways glance at his superior, the Minister of Defense. "Could the Pacific Northwesteria fleet have attacked our vessel? Surely our allies could not have perpetrated such a dastardly act!"

Duke Disal's mood visibly darkened, "Shocking! I am flabbergasted! They have been reckless with their military in the past, just recently they killed two Special Operations officers of the Dominion of LeberMac with that ill-conceived airstrike. If they indeed have attacked one of our own ships, we cannot allow this aggression to stand. Aide! Get me a secure channel to the Nilt leadership council and to General Stalis... we must not allow ourselves to appear weak." The Duke allowed himself a secret smile. Perhaps this will work out to my advantage after all... he thought.

The Nilt Minister of Defense, Duke Disal, the great leader of the underground terrorist movement, was plotting again. Later that same day, news footage from an unknown source was released showing the Pacific Northwesteria's attack on the Nilt submarine. Despite the pleas of the PN government relating to their certainty that THIS submarine was involved in the terrorist attacks, and that it had recently picked up a terrorist agent, the public was outraged. Using his political power, The Minister of Defense minimized the stories backing up Pacific Northwesteria's claim, and exaggerated the "warmongering" and "reckless, callous killers" aspects of the recent Pacific Northwesteria attack. Duke Disal appeared in public to be strongly supporting Nilt's nationalistic fervor, supporting every action to "defend our people from aggression, while our current leadership wrings its hands and stalls for time! I will defend Nilt to the end!"

It seemed his plan was working very well. But, unbeknownst to all, there were other interested parties operating within Nilt to track down the truth behind the failed nuclear test, the terrorist tankers, and the power consolidation of Duke Disal.

OOC: Bariloche, enter stage right.

OOC: Shouldn't we get Nilt back? Nilt should really be RPing Nilt, no LM... but as you're doing the terrorists, what you've done so far is OK

IC: Admiral Michaels had been summoned to a high-level meeting of the PN armed services, to be presided over by the commander in chief, President Zwimbala. There was only one problem: he was aboard a Thunder Child, in the middle of the ocean, and the President was in the capitol building. No stranger to extravagant entrances and exits, the Admiral was still shocked by the plan.
He was sitting in a glider-boat, near his beloved Thunder Child. He was racing across the water at forty knots, awaiting the arrival of a DD-1 A from above. Cutting engines and slowing almost to a stall, the pilot pulled up and snagged the glider-boat's tow cable. Luckily, it was slightly elastic. As if was, Adm. Michaels nearly passed out from the G's. Clearing his head, he attached his motorized rope-climber to the tow cable, and was propelled upward. Climbing into the bomb bay, Michaels gave the OK to the pilot. He accelerated as quickly as was safe to Mach 7, climbing rapidly.
He slowed once again an hour later, above the capital city of Pacific Northwesteria. Again almost stalling, the pilot opened the bomb bay doors, and out jumped the Admiral. Parachute opening at 1000 feet, he came to a rest on the front lawn of the Capitol. Sprinting into the President's private chambers, red in the face, he breathily asked: "what did I miss, Mr. President?"
Filled in on the situation by word of mouth, the only truly secure form of communication (the room had been swept repeatedly for bugs), Adm. Michaels was astonished. "They're accusing us of attacking their submarine? But that would be an act of war! Have they declared war?"
"No, Admiral, they haven't. However, that is hardly comforting, as declarations of war are a thing of the past for many countries. Not every nation is as formal and polite about it as Pacific Northwesteria."
"Of course, sir. How are we going to respond?"
Arguments began erupting in the room. Some shouted, "that sub was a terrorist sub! They claim it was theirs! They won't listen to our reasons! They must be a terrorist nation! INVADE!!!!!!!" some said, "We should apologize fully, withdraw all of our ships, and reimburse Nilt for their lost materials. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." Others, however, chose the middle path. "Gentlemen! Sorry, what was that? Oh, yeah... and women... the solution is clear. We can not appear weak, but we can not attack a friendly nation without provocation. Let them make the first move. Group all of our forces in the area, well outside of Nilt's national waters, but close enough to respond quickly if necessary. Form a defensive formation, with vulnerable ships such are aircraft carriers and troop transports in the center, surrounded by battleships and missile cruisers. Subs should be lurking below. On the perimeter, post all of our sub-hunters and early-detection ships. Put all fighters and bombers on standby. Air-refuel all the DD-1s. We might just have a fight on our hands."
This met with a general murmur of agreement, and the President followed his suggestions. He also directed PNI, as well as other intelligence agencies with names that can not be disclosed, to search for who had masterminded this whole deal. It had to be someone intelligent, someone on the inside. That submarine was destroyed far too easily, and it never sent a last distress call. It was bait. It was terrorist, but it was bait. The terrorists had intended this confrontation, there was no doubt.
After his commanders were dismissed, the President went over the reports of the sonar officers that were dominating his thought. Several described a small blip next to the sub, that disappeared soon afterwards in the noise of the impacting torpedoes. So this is what happened, he thought. The REAL person we're after was on that craft. The next step would be finding the closest ship in the area. Surely, he would have minimal range on that escape craft. There were no reports of anyone being taken aboard any of his ships... so it must have been Nilt. Nilt's ships were the only others in the area. So who would be accepted aboard a Nilt ship, no questions asked? It must have been someone high up. The thought made him shiver. Two hours later, a young aide came rushing into the room, carrying a top-secret report from Intelligence. It contained the same information that the President had just deduced. It was good to know that the entire Intelligence agency together was only a little bit behind his personal thoughts. He smiled. I got this job for a reason.
Standard overflights confirmed a small submarine being taken aboard a Nilt cruiser. The president ordered that cruiser to be tracked, and watched for any departures. The pictures began coming in of three figures landing in Nilt off of the cruiser. Damn, thought the president. They were all high-level, they were all shady. He needed help determining who it was. He set his own agencies on it, and also called for help from Bariloche. The time was running out.

This is an OOC post:
Because of reasons outside my control, I won't be able to RP my nations anymore. I'm sorry for any inconvenients this can cause.

Feel free to assume what my actions would be if needed for this RP in particular.

OOC: Ok, thanks for letting us know. BTW, can you RP for Bariloche, LM? And we need to get Nilt in as well. I can't RP them, cuz there's dialogue... and that would just be weird.

OOC: Ok, thanks for letting us know. BTW, can you RP for Bariloche, LM? And we need to get Nilt in as well. I can't RP them, cuz there's dialogue... and that would just be weird.

Major Amarillo watched the news channel as the reports streamed in regarding Pacific Northwesteria's buildup of forces near Nilt. Really, there could be no mistake about who would win any kind of military pissing contest. None of this made sense. The governments of both countries were engaged in a war of words, especially that Disal guy fron Nilt.

"Hey boss," Sgt. Pressley said as he approcahed the recovery cot where Amarillo lay. Pressley noticed Nilt's Minister of Defense on the tube, making more inflammatory statements. "Someone oughta duct-tape that guy's mouth shut."

Amarillo grunted in agreement. "Yah, someone will soon enough, I'm sure. So, am I free to go? Our team's got a return engagement back at the scene of the crime, Pressley. We'd better get a move on if we're ever gonna find anything."

"Yeah, the docs say you can leave anytime you feel up to it. Broken ribs and a concussion? Hell, I've gotten worse in bar fights." Pressley joked as he helped his superior up off the cot.

"Hell, Pressley, you've gotten worse from your wife!" Both men laughed as they made their way out of the medical bivouac and onto the tarmac, where the helo that Pressley had arranged for was waiting for them. The two piled in and prepped for the hour-long flight to the island where all of this started.

The helo made a quick recon sortie of the area, avoiding the smoke from the still-smoking crater of what used to be the northern island, not wanting to find any surprises, and the Dominion forces landed without incident at the scene of their most recent firefight.

"Pressley," shouted Amarillo over the whilring chopper blades, "Grab that sniffer gear and keep your eyes open. I don't need a repeat performance."

Pressley grabbed the sensitive equipment and gave the pilot the go-ahead for dustoff through his quantum-encrypted secure commlink. The helo would loiter above their position, scouting for any possible activity, and also relaying their converstaion back to the Dominion.

Both men made their way to the site of the terrorist's small base camp on the southern island, now a smoldering wreck. Amarillo cast his trained eye around the area as Pressley configured the sweeper device and dispatched the two specially-trained Aibo mechanical hounds that came with the sweeper unit.

Amarillo was donning his latex "crime scene" gloves when he noticed some paperwork fluttering nearby, and carefully stepped across the blast area to inspect it. The pages were singed, but apparently it was a short manual written by hand on the explosive properties of RDX, and how it could be used to create massive explosions as well as assist in the weaponizing of chlorine. He shook his head, wondering who had written it.

"Helloooo, jackpot!" Pressley shouted. "Sir, I've got something you should see! Residue all over the place of this stuff!"

"RDX?" Amarillo mentioned as he joined Pressley back at the blast site.

"Holy crap! Howdj'a guess that, Sir?" Pressley asked in astonishment.

Amarillo handed Pressley the handwritten explosives "how-to" manual. "Seems that the folks who were using our island were using it for distributing this RDX explosive. This information will probably be useful for evidence. Let's bag it and get some samples of the rest of this area. All of the involved parties will want to know what's going on here."

One of the Aibo dogs barked an alert that it had found something. Pressley configured the sniffer to take the samples, and both men walked up to the location on a hill to the north overlooking the battle scene.
The robot had found a discarded RPG tube, and an indentation in the ground indicating that someone had lain here in waiting. "Track it, boy" -Amarillo gave the subvocal command to the specially-trained Aibo, and the robotic canine made its way down the hill to the east, headed to the coast. The trail ended at the shoreline.

"Well, this proves that Pacific Northwesteria is telling the truth." Amarillo said. The same terrorist that destroyed his own comrades made his way down through here in the confusion and swam out to the waiting sub, just like they claim. Where's that dog?"

"There, Sir." Pressley gestured towards the surf. The Aibo was sniffing around the waves, pawing at what looked like a small cellular-phone. It dug it out of the sand and brought it back to the two men. It looked like a transmitter of some kind, made of hardened plastic. Pressley gingerly took the transmitter from the cyberhound and examined it. There was one switch. He looked at Amarillo.

"Hell, what have we got to lose, Pressley? Flip the switch!" Amarillo said.

Pressley keyed the switch and immediately the Aibo began to howl, startling the sergeant. Amarillo petted the dog and launched his diagnostic routine by scratching it just right behind the ear. The dog was receiving a strong subsonic signal from the device. "Okay, Pressley, shut it off." Amarillo said. Well, well. What would a strong subsonic signal be good for? Riiight... Signalling a submarine. In the ocean, this signal would carry for miles and most seamen wouldn't even notice it, thinking it was biological in origin.

"Allright, let's head out, Pressley." Amarillo gestured. They both made it back to the sniffer device, which had confirmed a strong presence of RDX. They took the data from that device, combined it with the Aibo's information and their humint notes, keyed it into their military-grade iBook, and called in the chopper.

Within minutes, they were airborne again and headed back to base, transmitting their data as they went.

Amarillo used the time to piece together his thoughts...So, we have terrorists operating on our territory with a good amount of resources and a supply of militray-grade RDX high explosive. We discover and eliminate their base along with their tankers & ships, but someone else was already on THIS island; we surprised them and they took THEMSELVES out to try to stop the information from falling into our hands. At least one terrorist made it away from the firefight and was able to summon a submarine with a low-tech device. Hours later, a Nilt submarine was sunk in the same area.

"Pressley", Amarillo said over the comm as the helicopter made its way over the brilliant blue ocean, "How rare is the RDX stuff? Can it be traced?"

"Oh, It's relatively rare, and yeah, the residue from RDX sticks around a long while. Even if you were just NEAR a sample of the stuff, it would register if you had a sensitive enough sniffer. You thinkin' somethin'?"

"Oh yeah, Pressley, oh yeah." Amarillo said. Then to the chopper pilot: "Pilot, can you raise Pacific Northwesteria on the horn? Get me Admiral Michaels, tell him there's something he needs to know NOW." Diplomatic channels be DAMNED. It was diplomatic channels which nearly lost their quarry in the first place, and diplomatic channels which were deepening the current crisis. If this really all WAS just a big mistake, Admiral Michaels would be just the person to put it right.

"And Pressley?" Amarillo said.

"Yessir?"

"Tell The Unreal Soldier folks that we're going to need Sentinel again. This time, I want the highest-res scans possible of Nilt, and this time, we're scanning for RDX."

The chopper streaked through the sky toward the shores of the Dominion with a renewed purpose: to stop a war and perhaps find the criminal mastermind who was orchestrating events.

Admiral Michaels was in the Presidential Suite, literally, watching the transmission come in. So, they had found a way to track the terrorists. Wouldn't it be ironic, he thought to himself, if it was the very explosives that they made that made them easy to find?
Quickly surveying the situation, Adm. Michaels ordered the fleet to back off a few more miles. Let them know that we don't mean them harm. Also, lull them into a sense of security. One thing was for sure: whichever of those three men was responsible, they had huge amounts of power. Also, they wouldn't act quite like their countrymen. Backing off would make him seem weak... but then again, who cares whether you seem weak, after you just did THAT to an island? All radar and sonar would be in active mode, and everything was set to go in case of emergency.
Admiral Michaels then called in Sergeant Major Cutler. Cutler was an expert in explosives, and was familiar with RDX. "Yes, it's fairly easy to detect. Of course, you DO need the right systems, but hey. What's new about technology nowadays? Everyone has the latest gear."
"Are you familiar with out DD-1 Bs, Major?", asked the Admiral.
"Well... do you want the official answer or the truthful one?"
"Come again?"
"Aww, hell... yes. I shouldn't, but I do. A sonic boom that big is hard to miss. I'm trained to find things, sir, and I found out what was breaking the windows of my house."
"Ok, then... do you think it could be rigged to detect RDX? I mean, very quickly."
"Well, I don't see why not... except for the whole 'quickly' part."
"What do you mean?"
"The detection programming is intricate. We'd need to test it. By the time it was ready... However, I've heard an aweful lot about a certain SENTINEL system. That might..."
"How did you find out about that? I was just briefed by LeberMac... it's top secret!"
"Admiral, let's just say that I'm good with computers."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm good with computers. As in, I read your confidential mail before you do. Change it if I like... but of course, I don't, sir. That would be treason."
Admiral Michaels didn't know whether to arrest Cutler or hug him.
"Ok," he continued, "what about that SENTINEL system?"
"It contains all of the necessary programming. It's part of what makes it so unique. If we could upload our surveillance data into the Unreal Soldier computers, they could analyze it for us. We could lend some processor power, should they need it. It was, after all, supposed to be high-res. Those boys don't have time to get the system over here before a war starts. But we can bring here to them."
"How did you know about... never mind. I'll get on it right away. Thank you for your help. And Major?"
"Yes Admiral?"
(yes, actual quote) "j00 |5 73|-| 1337 |-|4><0|2"
"Thank you sir"
The Unreal Soldier sitting at the SENTINEL console was woken abruptly by the urgent message. He immediately tied the Unreal Soldier processors, as well as the main governmental processors of Nilt, LeberMac and Pacific Northwesteria, into the SENTINEL server. Even at high altitude, high speed and high-res, the data could be processed as it came in. Results were overlaid onto a green-line-on-black map of the region, showing all RDX in red. This image was constantly refreshing as the planes moved, with several world leaders sitting on the edge of their seats.

OOC: Maybe I'm just making life hard for myself, but, consider the following:
1. Can Nilt see my planes? They're at 80,000 feet, and moving at around Mach 7.
2. If yes, can Nilt (and do they want to, considering the furor) launch missiles against them?
3. What about fighters? Any fighters?
4. Will it be viewed as an act of war?

If any of these turn out to be true, I look forward to justifying my actions.

OOC: Better get Nilt back in the game here...

OOC: LM Playing the terrorists out here...

"Your Grace, the representatives are here to see you." the butler said curtly, and ushered the visitors into the opulent palace study with an efficient flourish, closing the heavy oak doors behind them.

"Please, sit down gentlemen." Duke Disal murmured. "I believe that the worst is over, and that the result may yet turn out to be quite... profitable."

Vlad Skorstad of the Ariin sat comfortably in the plush leather seat and cast his cold blue eyes on the Duke. "Interesting. However, I have all that I need from you at the moment. We have not contracted for more... services. The unwelcome attention being given to your organization has perhaps indicated our own involvement in recent events in Eredron."

"Yes, yes! This activity is getting too much for us!" Count Grebbin sputtered as he nervously wrung his hands, pacing in front of his chair. "My own involvement is sure to be discovered once the Dominion of LeberMac finds out who REALLY owns those two islands! My front companies won't stand up to a determined Dominion government inquiry! I'll be ruined!"

"You mean ONE island, my nervous little Count." Skorstad chuckled. "Pacific Northwesteria has many powerful resources and is not a nation to be trifled with. You are lucky to have been absent from your post at the moment of attack. I find that mysteriously convenient."

"I'd have been blown to bits!" Grebbin howled and pointed a trembling, accusing finger at Duke Disal, "This is NOT what I signed on for, Disal! I find no profit in this war you are fomenting!"

"SIT DOWN, Grebbin." Disal shouted. Grebbin stopped his fumbling and seated himself timidly on the edge of the plush chair, facing Duke Disal, who waited until Grebbin was calmed before speaking again, "Now, we can all come out of this with improved fortunes as long as there is nothing to trace us to the RDX or the Chlorine or to the nuclear explosion."

"Besides the obvious use of the chemical itself, there is nothing to tie my organization to Nilt, or anything in this area, my good Duke," Skorstad said, "I can assure you that the product has already been used, and the affected governments are grasping at straws." As they should be, Vlad thought. Eredron's corrupt Capitalist Paradise would be brought down in the Quake, and once the people felt that their government could not protect them, the time would be ripe for Ariin independence.

"Yes, it seems that your operation has come off without a hitch, Mr. Skorstad." Disal mused. "My agents are satisfied with your security. Now, regarding your damaged property, Mr. Grebbin. I think it's time to sell those islands."

"What?" Grebbin snapped his head around. "I have tens of millions invested in that property! You can't just force me to..."

"Oh, but we can, Mr. Grebbin, and we will..." Disal said as two security guards entered the room and flanked Grebbin. He deliberately pushed the real estate transfer documents (pre-dated to two years ago) in front of Grebbin's nose and said one word: "Sign." Grebbin chose discretion as the better part of valor and signed the documents.

"Really, Mr. Grebbin, you should be more careful in future dealings. Oh, make no mistake, the money, all 26 million, will be in your account, and you'll find that all records show that the money has been there for about two years. Being Minister of Defense DOES have its privleges, and access to cyber-criminals who owe you favors is one of them. There will be no record that can recently tie you to the events unfolding here."

Disal stood up, concluding the meeting. "I trust each of you have methods of transport that will get you back to the airport?"

"I have my own methods, Minister, and I do not need transportation," Skorstad muttered, "but I believe that our good friend Mr. Grebbin may need a covert method of transportation to the airport."

"Yes! My limosuine is a diplomatic courtesy from Nilt! I will need an alternative method to get back to the Dominion of LeberMac and arrange my affairs, until this mess clears up. I think my driver is actually a spy, anyway."

Disal mentioned to his butler, "Jeffrey, could you discreetly arrange to take this gentleman to the airport? Oh, and be of help and take the wash to the cleaners..." Disal added.

Vlad Skorstad unfolded an electronic device and within minutes a helicopter appeared, landing on the Defense Minister's helipad. He entered and departed to parts unknown.

Jeffrey grimaced with the added errand and agreed with a muted "Of course, sir." Grebbin piled into the back seat, crouching down while the butler faithfully loaded the wash into the car for drycleaning, which included a water-soaked set of clothes that unbeknownst to any of them, exuded traces of RDX explosive...

Duke Disal watched the car pull away and stared out the large plate glass window in the study, plotting how best to eliminate Grebbin and how to make the next step in his play for power.

OOC: This thread ties in to the following terrorist incident:

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=138293

President Zwimbala of Pacific Northwesteria was staring at the reports in front of him. Noting the quick thinking and decisive action of Admiral Michaels, he decided to give him a free rein in the area. "Just don't invade anybody without telling me", he had said. The president smiled. It had been a long time since he had known an intelligent officer.
Admiral Michaels used his newfound power to augment his already impressive surveillance forces. One hour later, 6 more DD-1 Bs lifted off from Pacific Northwesteria, hot off the assembly lines of Doujin. Three hours later, all ten DD-1 B black widows were sweeping Nilt at maximum altitude. They were patched in to the Sentinel system, and scanning at maximum resolution for traces of RDX. Suddenly, a streak of RDX appeared under a fly-over. Michaels, determining the angle of the streak, called in another plane in the area (the one which shot the original photo would be long gone and unable to turn fast enough) to follow that line. With an intensified search grid of the area, the line became well-defined.
"Alert LeberMac", Michaels whispered to the comm lieutenant. "They'll want to know about this."
The line traced a path along major Nilt roadways from the mansion of Duke Disal to the airport.
"I want infrared imaging overlaid with RDX detection, CONSTANTLY, of the areas surrounding both the residence and the airport." ordered Michaels.
"We'll go in and get them."
A lone Pacific Northwesteria ACLC (air-cushioned landing craft) made its way silently to the shores of Nilt. Twelve special ops team members, in squads of 4, crept up onto the beach. They also brought three laser designators, five shoulder-mounted missile launchers, 4 super-rapid .50 cal. machine gun turrets, as well as a semi/fully automatic laser-sight rifle for each soldier. They each carried a well-concealed combat knife, strangling cord, and tiny semi-auto pistols. They hid their heavy weaponry in holes in the forest, separated by team. If they ran into trouble, they would be able to retreat to this point. The caches were placed in well-defended areas, creating an instant cordon defense formation. The team's spec. ops. black uniforms were also used to designate friend from foe... a hidden pebble in a chest pouch showed up as a friendly signature both from the air and on ground-based nightvision binoculars.
The team, after changing into plainclothes (baggy, of course... gotta hide that gear somewhere...) moved into the city, and took up positions outside the airport and the mansion. Two teams were assigned to the airport, because it was bigger and had the most recent RDX trace, and only one was assigned to the mansion. The teams staked out the area, and relayed their positions to high command.
The team at the airport could see nothing. There were too many people, too many vehicles, too much noise. They reported all's well every hour, and sat in wait.
The team at the mansion, however, had a different mission. Whether he was the head honcho or not, this Disal character was definitely involved. The four agents broke in through the rather primitive state-of-the-art security system in the back, silently lifted the latch, and slunk into the rear of the mansion. Using infrared sensors, with help from above, they quickly located Disal. He was in the lavish living room, pacing back and forth. Luckily for them, in a house this size, every room had several entrances and exits. Synchronized perfectly, three team members burst in one entrance, brandishing their pistols foolishly, and yelling for Disal to put his hands up. As he was turning in alarm, the fourth team member entered silently through a door behind Disal, and knocked him out from behind. No blood. No screams. No death. He would regain consiousness in a couple of hours. Meanwhile, they hog-tied him with cords, and smuggled him out of the house.
They maintained radio silence until they got back to their craft. However, they could see that they were stuck for a while... there were patrol boats in the harbor. They camped out in their respective weapons caches, maintaining contact with Admiral Michaels. They only hoped that either they could be evacuated by helo, or that damned boat would leave.

OOC: Nilt, I think, can't rejoin. I sent a TG (I THINK to Nilt) and Nilt said no-go. Said that you could RP what his/her logical actions would be.

Count Grebbin nibbled his fingernails as the butler Jeffrey drove him along the lumbering road on his way to the airport. Nervousness and impatience had driven him into a state of near-nmervous breakdown, to say nothing of the recent encounter with his two senior partners in the ever-so risky game of international terrorism. It was too much. "Faster...Faster...FASTER! Dammit, doesn't this pile of shit go any FASTER?" He blurted out at the driver, Jeffrey.

"Excuse me sir..." Jeffrey said with an air of practiced indifference, "but this is a BENTLEY, one of the finest automobiles made. We are going 120 miles an hour, and although this fine car can indeed go faster, doing so on current roadway conditions would prove unadvisable." Jeffrey flicked his wrist and took the next curve at 70 in a well-practiced sliding turn that belied his true identity. "And Sir?" Jeffrey said as he looked into the rearview mirror, "why don't you help yourself to a...refreshment. The passenger bar is fully stocked."

"'Bout time I get shown some true courtesy" Grebbin said as Jeffrey directed his gaze forward again. The cap to the Crown Royal came off easily and Grebbin messily poured himself a drink, his hands still shaking from the humiliation and the very real fear that pursued him. The liquor went down smooth and Grebbin felt his concerns subsiding. In fact, everything seemed to be subsiding. He realized too late that he had been drugged. He managed a feeble gasp of alarm and shock before he passed out on the rear bench of the Bentley as "Jeffrey" pulled into the rear airport entrance and was met by a contingent of Nilt troops, with General Stalis at the head.

The agent of Nilt , "Jeffrey" calmly got out of the vehicle and gave a crisp salute to the General. He was thankful that his surveillance of Disal was now over, it had been a long 2 years, but Stalis had been correct (as usual) in his suspicions.

"On behalf of the people of Nilt, I thank you, agent." Stalis said. "This criminal will be extradited to The Dominion of LeberMac where he will be dealt with harshly, I am sure." Armed MP guards dragged the limp body of Grebbin onto a plane and prepared to accompany him back to the Dominion.

The general turned to his aide and pulled up a Dominion of LeberMac special issue quantum communications device and monitored the commlink with the Dominion that had been recently set up. He keyed in an entry to the system, indicating that one target with the RDX was secured, evidence was being properly collected from the clothing of Duke Disal, tying him not only to the RDX but also the fabricated submarine sinking and the murder of hundreds if not thousands in a botched nuclear experiment gone horribly wrong. Stalis was sure the Pacific Northwesteria agents would be reporting in soon, he had recalled his forces from the standoff and his ships were returning home to port.

There was still the matter of dismantling the entire international explosives manufacturing infrastructure. Some stores of RDX had been found, but most were already missing, scattered to the four winds, too small for Sentinel to detect any longer. The cleanup for the original nuclear explosion was going well, and the lives lost in this incident would soon be memorialized in public.

The public was only now learning about the full nature of the events of the past three weeks. The public trial of Duke Disal would leave a scar on his government and leave a deep mistrust of government for decades to come.

OOC: nice conclusion, LM. I think this is dead now, though. R.I.P.