NationStates Jolt Archive

((OOC note: this is a continuation of an earlier thread involving Azeri terrorism. here's the link for background info:
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=339479&page=1&pp=15))

Over the border into Russia, Agent Thomas Edemskoi ran. He mounted the Azeri ridge and beheld McQuaid, flames burning behind the ever present rayban sunglasses. Back there lay failure. Four dead bodies, Azeri terrorists all. He had failed to protect them, to deliver their leader, Asaf Mammad, to safety, and now they were dead by a sniper's bullets. Bloody revenge had been his, however. The killer lay bleeding in the Azeri sand, not a kilometer away, his face, hands, arms deformed by an artist's switchblade strokes. The killer would live, but face a life as a hideous monster, a witness to his own deformity. This provided Edemskoi only temporary satisfaction. More blood would be spilled for the lost cause. Far more. The dead terrorist's mission, through his death, had become Edemskoi's. The country that he beheld at this moment was the target. The black McQuaid lands, soon to be blood red in the rising sun, would all fall victim to an Intelligence Agent's revenge. Lost honor would be restored in the coming days through the chaos that he would spread.

The documents Edemskoi had taken off of Asaf turned out to be lists of all Azeri Brotherhood members operating within the McQuaid borders. There was a small cell located in a city only a few miles from Edemskoi's current location. By dawn, the operative had reached Rustayi. The address listed on the wrinkled piece of paper was a grocery store in the heart of the city. Edemskoi entered.

The man at the counter asked if he could help the dark figure who entered his store.

"My name is Asaf Mammad," Edemskoi told the man. The man looked skeptical at the mention of the leader's name. He had not seen the man, but always expected him to be Azeri. This man appeared to be of western descent.

The westerner spoke:

"O Mankind, We created you from a single pair of a male and a female and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know each other. Verily the most honored of you in the sight of God is he who is the most righteous of you"

He recited the verse that acted as a password in the brotherhood in perfect Arabic. A look of shock crossed the clerk's face.

"So you are he! Please, come this way, brother."

The clerk led Edemskoi into the back room of the store, and up a flight of steps into a spacious living area. Several Azeris were gathered in a sitting area speaking in their native tongue. The clerk bowed Edemskoi through, into the heart of the terror cell's operations. He introduced the Generian as their illustrious leader.

Only one of the Azeris in the room had ever actually met Asaf Mammad in person, and he knew instantly that this man was not he, but he also remembered his instructions. Asaf had told every leader of every cell, that if he should fall, then the man who claimed his identity was his chosen successor. The old man who knew the truth looked at the tall foreigner, finally deciding that he would do as Asaf's replacement. He joined the other Azeris in bowing to their leader. It was in this way that Thomas Edemskoi, a Generian intelligence agent, came to be the leader of an Azeri terrorist organization.

Later that evening, after the stories of daring escape had been told, the old man approached Edemskoi, to ask he agent for the truth. Edemskoi kept his silence for several seconds, and then related the real story to the man. He told of the destruction of the terror camps, of their escape by helicopter, of the long trek through the mountains, and finally of the demise of the Azeri high command, and his subsequent revenge. The old man looked at the floor in silence, a single tear falling from his eye for the cause that seemed so far gone.

"So I suppose it is a lost cause now. A westerner has replaced our leader, our bases are gone, and as we speak foreigners are carving up our illustrious land to be divided among themselves. How can we have failed so miserably?"

Edemskoi replied to the man, comfortingly:
"But it is not lost, brother. I have come to this land to make sure it is not lost. Our Emperor is an Azeri, and he will not suffer to see his homeland raped by these savages. There are still many cells alive in this land, and, with the Empire's help, we have the means to strike a blow so deep into McQuaid that they will never be able to speak of Azerbaijan again, much less occupy it."

"Then what is your proposal, stranger?"

"Tonight I will contact Generia, and tell them of my plans. The Emperor will approve, I guarantee you. They will send our supplies, and we will get to work in bringing an end to this nation."

--00--

In the Generian Intelligence Bureau building, Ivan Cac recieved a direct call from his presumed dead agent.

"Asaf is dead, the cells in Azerbaijan are crushed, and McQuaid will soon declare an end to hostilities in the region," Edemskoi reported to his superior.
"There is good news, however. The sleeper cells in McQuaid are still operational. If we act now we can cripple McQuaid before they know what happened."

"Do you understand what you're saying, agent?" replied Cac. "If they find out we had our hand in this uprising, we'll have a war on our hands! I'm going to send a team to extract you. This operation is over."

"Don't you understand? the timing is perfect. They won't expect anything! We can hiot them now, hit them hard, and no one will be the wiser! We can take revenge for the trouble they have brought this empire in the past."

"So what are you suggesting we do, agent," Cac said sarcastically.

"A nuclear attack. Right on their capital."

"Are you completely insane," Cac screamed, checking his voice when others turned to stare into his office. "Are you insane? A nuclear attack? We would be fricasseed by the international community."

"Trust me. They have no idea we have anything to do with this at all. Just send the materials, and we can constuct a device right here, in a short time. We can have Tblisi in flames in no time at all."

Cac, thought about it.

"I'll talk to the Emperor."

He did so, and recieved an instant approval to do whatever Edemskoi suggested. The plan was set in motion. The next day, agents from Generia began smuggling in the materials needed to build a small nuclear device. The Azeris and Edemskoi worked hard too, bringing every surviving member of the brotherhood to work on constuction. In two weeks time, their task was completed.

Transport posed a problem, a suitcase being out of the question, due to the devices size. It was finally decided to smuggle the device in a car. An old Lincoln towncar was modified to hold the device, utilizing trunk and backseat space to hide the cargo. Using simple cell phone bomb technology, it would be detonated by a phone call.

The day that the attack was planned, a low level member of the Azeri Brotherhood drove the vehicle into downtown Tblisi from Rustayi, parking it in the street in front of a statue of an old Georgian leader. The man left the downtown area, but was forced to remain in the city to make the call. As the hours ticked away, the men held their breath, for the moment of truth to arrive. The terrorist made the call at exactly 11 AM. As he dialed the last number he prayed. Nothing happened. He dialed again, and then once more. Still nothing happened. The device would not pick up the signal. He would have to move closer. When he reached an area directly in view of the vehicle, he found soldiers prying at the locks. The terrorist held his breath and dialed. A blinding flash, and the man was vaporized, along with downtown Tblisi. Their attack had been executed.

Edemskoi watched the flash from the top of a building in Rustayi. When it was over, he headed to a parked car outside, and began his frantic flight to the Black Sea,

bumping for my own use

Roger houston, thats a [tag]

Emperor Vladimir Kreschnev II watched the chaos on the International evening news, and felt a sliver of satisfaction pierce his heart. The people ran screaming through the streets. There were so many bodies, more later when the radiation poisoned victims began to appear. Edemskoi, Kreschnev's fist in the foreign lands, had done well for the Empire today. As he watched the replay of some home video footage of the explosion, he pictured his father's face, grinning in the clouds of dust and ash. He would be proud in the afterlife for the work that his son had carried out today. For all the strife McQuaide had caused Generia in the past, they were now paying for it in their crimson streets. For all of the times Generians had had to defend their own homes from foreign threats, McQuaid citizens were now paying for it with their homes, with their lives, and with their children's lives. For all of the Azeris who were living now under the foreign yoke, they could watch this and know that liberation would come soon, and the oppressors would feel the sting of the saber across their necks. In the darkness of his office, a grim smile crossed Leon Bahadori's face, as he mouthed the words:

"Bear witness."

bump

((OOC: A little more extreme than I thought. Tough cookies for me, though. This post will be retroactive, covering actions taken prior to the blast as well as some reaction.))



McQuaide Joint Operations Center, New Dublin, 18 hours to detonation

Ever since their first intervention into Generic Empire territory, the JOC maintained a permanent Generic Empire intelligence workroom in a hallway adjoining the crisis center. Intelligence analysts working the ‘GE Desk’ were the best of the Commonwealth, often with field intelligence gathering experience in the troublesome country. After the interception of the Generian satellite code from Azerbaijan, the GE Desk had been working nonstop to decrypt the message and gather any additional intelligence about Generian intent in the region. At one particular desk with the innocuous placard “Geography and Government Infrastructure,” analysts were updating the targeting packages for a full range of contingencies calling for strikes against Generia up to full scale war.

The GE Desk’s watch officer’s phone rang, a higher, longer ring indicating a secure call. “Generic Empire desk, special agent Anderson… You’re kidding… You’re sure the bundle came from Russia? Same frequency as the first? Same satellite? Gotcha. Will do.”

“Ok guys, we picked up another transmission as the first, intercepted by an ERIC we nudged over the region to cover the satellite the Generians used for their first transmission. Same crypt, same satellite. Courier from Space Command is coming down with it now. We’ll start with the precursors. Hopefully these guys have a standard handshake, or a standard carrier. Be ready for translating, people.”



McQuaide Joint Operations Center, New Dublin, 1 hour to detonation

“Ok, sir. Crypto department just called in. 30 percent of the conversation has been cracked, the rest is incompatible, we won’t crack it unless we catch another transmission. I just checked the translation myself, it’s good. They’re working with the Azeris, alright, and they did have a man on that helo that went down in Azerbaijan. He’s the one that cut up that spec ops shooter. We just now got some other stuff, a Rivet Joint was running a test run on some new radar detection gear, using Generia as a target, when she picked up other traffic, funny stuff. Routing orders, for a special transport. Haven’t had time to completely decrypt that yet. Actually transmitted a few days ago, apparently someone over at Air Force intel didn’t realize what he had ‘till today.”



McQuaide Joint Operations Center, New Dublin, 50 minutes to detonation

“Oh, shit!”

“Sir, they were ordering a delivery for a drop into the Caspian! Masked as a civilian transport, the works. It’s gotta be a black op!”

“Call the Prime Minister’s office, and Solomonov. They gotta know about this.”



Engels Park, Tbilisi, McQuaide

Tbilisi was the largest city of McQuaide. Although no longer the growing nation’s political capital, the city still was home to many corporations and older industries, and home to millions of citizens. At 11AM, there were nearly 500,000 citizens in the core of the city, working in office jobs or in the many automobile, farm machinery, and electronics factories in the downtown sector. Things had normalized somewhat after the attack nearly a month ago that killed 3,000 citizens. Security was still tight, but at least the downtown had been reopened for business.

The city had one thing going for it. The park square where the weapon was detonated sat in a small depression in the surrounding terrain, about 1 square mile in dimension. Almost imperceptible to the naked eye, this depression would be invaluable to thousands.

The soldiers were acting on urgent orders communicated throughout the entire McQuaide armed forces—there was urgent, credible intelligence that someone was attempting to attack McQuaide again. Each of the soldiers trying to open the car had been in the attack by Azeri terrorists last month, and each were determined not to let the same thing happen again.

A moment after the weapon detonated, the blast was affected by several things. The proximity to the large, metal statue of Engels propping a leg on a bench served to deflect energy around it, leaving approximately 15 degrees of the blast radius unexposed to radiation. This, and the fact that the park was in a shallow depression, meant that much of the rest surrounding city would not be exposed to the initial blast of radiation. The park itself, like the rest of the city, was built on a layer of ‘shield,’ the solid rock of the earth’s crust that occasionally rises to the surface. This would serve to reduce the fallout radiation. Finally, a jetstream pushing south meant one particularly ironic thing—the fallout that was generated would come to rest in the form of rain and dust over Azerbaijan, the nation that helped generate the attack.

The blast swept through the park in a fraction of a millisecond, before pushing through a bank of office buildings, an industrial park, and a neighborhood of Soviet-era row houses and apartment buildings. An imperfection in the bomb’s shell was actually advantageous for the terrorists—A column of blast energy was directed towards a different, more modern residential neighborhood, sending even greater forces there to collapse houses and apartments. All told, the blast registered at 23 kilotons—not a great yield compared to the strategic weapons of the day, but still enough to devastate the center of a city.

Thirty seconds after the blast, a low frequency rumble could still be heard as the atmosphere struggled to find equilibrium after the terrible blast. A mushroom cloud was beginning to form from a column of hot air, condensation, and debris rising into the upper atmosphere.



McQuaide Joint Operations Center, New Dublin, 20 minutes after detonation

The Prime Minister had been about to make a public appearance when the detonation was detected by a McQuaide recon satellite observing the Azerbaijani operations to the South. Ten minutes later, he was safe within the bomb-proof crisis center, listening to the conclusion of the briefing by the duty officer.

“We didn’t think they’d be able to strike us this soon, sir. But we think they traded speed for security, sir. There were a lot of transmissions back and forth, and we think that they may have left other telltales. By the end of the day, sir, we should have enough evidence for a case to be made to the international community, sir. But for now, know that my money’s on the Emperor being behind this.”