NationStates Jolt Archive

[Well, it's time to start another period of massive militarization. What makes this particular cycle of military build-up special is that it's for my upcoming third billion. As such, the launching of six brand new and very special ships will happen tomorrow to start this cycle off with a bang.]

Emperor Alexander I Larsen stood on the deck of the massive Imperial Navy ship. Well, massive was an understatement and it wasn't yet entirely complete and it wasn't technically commissioned, although after spending several hundred billion on each of the six ships in the class there wasn't any question that it and its sisters would be.

Alexander heard footsteps reverberating from the deck behind him and turned to see his daughter, heir to the Imperial Throne and Fourth Sea Lord in the Imperial Navy. It was odd to see her deckside -she was usually found in the commandeered Fleet Command Center of the HIMS Gehenna directing the installation of the weapons systems of all six Gehenna class ships- and the surprise must have shown because Sakura smiled faintly and handed him several papers only saying, "For you, Daddy."

Alexander smiled at the endearment and began reading the printed messages, "Budget Reform Act passed almost unanimously in both Houses of the Senate, that's good. Concordia disbanded and our assets re-.... Jesus, I had totally forgotten about throwing that much money at them and for nothing at that. Good on both counts, that alliance was a waste of time and resources, about the only thing it was good for was keeping money in reserve for us."

"Well, getting that money back was not an entirely good thing. It's not like we can put that money back into the economy, at least not directly, without completely devaluing our currency. I don't think our dear subjects would be happy to know that their yearly salary is only good for buying a week's worth of food. No, we're going to have to spend it on projects that would have a primary effect of improving the economy. For example, an expansion of the military, the navy in particular, would create several million jobs." The not-quite-innocent smile only increased the hilarity of Sakura's last sentence.

The Emperor shook his head in mock disappointment, "What has the Navy done to my little girl? All she dreams about is large warships to pound the Imperium's enemies into dust and getting more of them, damn the monetary and resource cost. Seriously, I was going to okay the expansion of the military eventually, whether or not the BRA passed or not, but since it did and we now have 10 trillion being dumped into our lap, I say we go on an early shopping spree. But first things first, we're going to launch these babies tomorrow and then all of our enemies are going to know we're playing for keeps from now on."


[Any allied nations can assume that they've been invited to send dignitaries to the event on a condition of Non-Disclosure.]

~TAG~

IC post forthcoming.

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A tall, muscular man, his face still graced with youthful, boyish looks, paced through the Presidential Palace, his footsteps reverberating in the abandoned network of hallways. Embracing the handle of a small metal briefcase with his left hand, he suddenly dashed against a young man, immaculately dressed, his distinctive wiry hair bouncing up and down as he walked.

Both mumbling an apology, the two men, well familiar with each other, continued side by side to a large oakwood door, embellished with symbolic wood engravings. The taller man knocked, turned the latch and strode in, followed by his younger collegue.

Inside, Khaled Rashid Brahim deeply inhaled the smell of nicotine, a Cuban cigar visible between the thumb and index finger of his left hand.

"Farid, Abdullah, what a pleasant suprise seeing you here,"

Wondering why the President always had to turn these meetings into some kind of exercise for his repetition meetings, as they met the President every week in this same office, Abdullah, his broad shoulders stiff and his back erected, pulled one of the blue plush chairs and sank down in one. His young collegue, Farid, did the same, pressing a pair of blueframed reading glasses onto his formidable, hawk-like nose.

"The pleasure is all ours, Mr. President,"

Abdullah groaned, swinging his metal briefcase onto the Presidential desk and clicking it open.

"We have an invitation recieved from Scandinavian States for attending the launch of their new battleships, so I'd like to suggest we send someone over to retain relations, as maybe it would be a nice event to see if we can strike some deals on some military stuff or open trading relations with some nation, stuff like that,"

Farid added, staring thoughtlessly at the decorations on the domed ceiling.

"Hmm, naval combat exercises in the Gulf are taking place a few days after the launch of these battleships, so I suppose I could fly over to SS, and visit the troops as a morale booster on the way home,"

Abdullah voiced, lighting a cigar and taking a formidable gulp of whiskey at the same time.

"Yeah, that's really what they want, some uglyfaced ironhauler coming to "boost" morale,"

Farid chuckled.

"Do not tempt me, you civil weenie,"

"Or what? Oh, wait, I didn't address you properly, sir, Farid waiting for orders, sir!"

"Bastard, I bet you wouldn't sustain in normal Army life for more than a week, you pussycat,"

"I bet I can, in fact, I'd beat your PT times, I'm a marathon runner, remember?"

"Don't make me laugh, I will write this down as a memory jogger and when we both have holidays, I will remember, then I will drive you to boot camp and then we'll see if you can keep up with a normal load of grunts,"

"Did I sound that serious? It was ironical, you son of a bitch. Oh, and by the way, can you actually write? That's the first time I hear that,"

"You, little...."

"It think this is enough for the moment, fight this out later, gentlemen, both of you will fly over to SS, as you seem to nicely augment each other, for now shake each others hands, and promise to be friends until you are out of my sight, after that, I don't give a fuck whatever you two try to do to each other,"

Abdullah and Farid got up, shook hands, desperately trying to break each others fingers, and dashed out, furious.

Navy Chief John Newman received the invitation from the Imperium to join the festivities. Since President Mike Sarzo was en route from Praeton back to Woodstock to give the keynote address to celebrate Sarzonia's billionth citizen, he wouldn't be able to turn Sarzonia One around. Besides, Newman knew that Sarzo would whine about not sleeping in his own bed.

"Hey Kath, do you want to go to this thing," Newman asked Deputy Navy Chief Kathy Bunhall.

"Do I have to go," Bunhall asked. That was not an unusual question for Bunhall, as she hated ceremonial events such as balls or coronations or inaugurations. She was always complaining about how stuffy events like those were.

Newman knew this, but he figured he'd have too much work to do to leave his office. But, he saw the look in her eyes and realized that she was really not interested in dusting off her passport for the long flight to Scandavian States. She had nothing against the Scandavians, but she just didn't like the travel unless there was formal Navy business involved. This didn't have nearly enough of that for her tastes.

"Fine, I'll go," Newman said. "The department's in good enough hands with you since you ran the show while I was in the hospital."

Bunhall nodded. Newman was undergoing major psychiatric evaluation and treatment for his overexuberant reactions to purchases from the Royal Shipyards of Isselmere-Nieland Corporation, the Imperial Praetonian Shipyards, or Hybalt Industries. During that time, Bunhall ran the department nearly as well as Newman ever had. There were some authorizations that had to go to Newman's boss, Vice President for Defense Terrence Wilson, but other than that, she was very self-sufficient. Newman would go.

"Thank you for your confidence in me, John."

"Why wouldn't I be confident? You'll probably take my place before very long."

Newman went back to his office to pack his work-related materials, which he would take in a large briefcase that included his laptop. He also picked up his cell phone and grabbed his car keys from the bowl on his desk. He walked out to start the journey toward his car in the parking garage, having no idea just how prophetic he would eventually become.

President Zwimbala received the message with interest.
"New battleships, eh?"
"It appears so, sir"
"I suppose we should see them? Show our support?"
"Oh course sir, excellent idea sir"
"Right then, prepare my jet, have the secretary draft an acceptance to the invite and let's head out there"
"Of course, Mr. President"

Prime Minister Zyteslav thumbed through his messages that he had recieved overnight...

"PA Aleksandrov needs money... someone placed a five hundred million dollar bounty on my head... what's this?"

He withdrew one of the sheets, after reading over it he picked up his telephone and dialed up People's Admiral Aleksandrov, commander of all of Hattia's navy.

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

Aleksandrov cursed under his breath and hung up the telephone, he didn't like diplomatic meetings like this, and he had a tendency to say things that got him in trouble. He did, however, have great respect for the Scandavian military.

He finished putting on his uniform and fixed the wide hat on his head. The had was similar to those worn by Admirals in the Napoleonic era (Except for the sickle and hammer), showing the Hattian military's peculiar love of old traditions and whatnot.

He strapped on his pistol and sword, then made his way to the airport. It was just a short jump across the Haven Strait.

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

Near Scandavian Airspace


This is flight alpha-75A out of Leningrad, Hattia. We are carrying a
Hattian military dignitary to a ceremony in Scandavian States, requesting
landing permission

Settling into his office, the newly appointed Royal Navy Chief of Staff Sir Geoff Kirkssen (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v114/hamptonshire/Ernest_King.jpg) eagerly went around the room putting books in their place and papers in their drawers. Due to the appointment of Lord Rosecrans to the position of Defense Minister, Kirkssen was promoted from Fleet Vice Admiral to the rank of Fleet Admiral and by personal appointment by the Grand Duke, was made the new Royal Navy Chief of Staff. Almost as prestigous as his new position, the Grand Duke knighted him "Knight Grand Commander of the Order of St. Ignatius". While sorting his personnel journal, his Chief Adjunct knocked on the door.

"Admiral, do you have time for a visitor?" Commander Catron, his Chief Adjunct, asked while opening the door.

"I'm kind of busy right now. Take a message or send them to meet another member of the Admiralty." Kirkssen said while talking softly, so the visitor couldn't hear.

"Sir, I think you would very much like to see the visitor. He has..." the "visitor" grew impatient and just pushed the door open.

"You think you'd be happy to see the man who got you this job." Lord Rosecrans said while making his way past the Commander.

Seeing the Defense Minister, Kirkssen became slightly flustered. Motioning to one of the chairs in the room, the Admiral motioned to have the door shut.

"I'm sorry Phillip, things have just been so busy around here." Kirkssen said while offering Lord Rosecrans a drink.

"Well, that's what I'm here about. We've received an invitation from Scandavian States, Lord Easton, Crown Prince Cessar, and I feel that you should attend."

"I...don't know what to say." Fleet Admiral Kirkssen said before downing his drink, choking a little since he poured himself too much.

"You could thank me."

"Of course. It's just, well, I've only been Chief of Staff for a week. I need to set things up here."

"Geoff, the Royal Navy has been around for a thousand years and will continue to be around for a thousand more. Things can function without your presence, beside like it or not, you're now a diplomatic figure. You'll be representing the Royal Navy and the Grand Duke quite often. It's just your luck that your first mission will be relatively easy." Lord Rosecrans said while getting up and walking toward the door.

"When do I leave?" Kirkssen asked.

Putting his hat back on, Lord Rosecrans turned his head toward Admiral Kirkssen.

"Now."

"This is Canton Air Traffic Control, roger that Alpha-75A. Please begin approach to Runway 105. Oh, and by the way, the Imperial Navy will be sending some fighters to escort you to the airport, it's standard operating procedure for dignitary protection."

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The other dignitaries arriving in Canton (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v172/NSFlags/Capital%20Cities/Canton1.jpg) were greeted at their terminals and then whisked away to the Duchess of Canton's residence (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v172/NSFlags/Capital%20Buildings/Canton2.jpg), which also doubled as the Duchy of Canton's capitol building. There they were met by the Emperor, the Empress (aka the Duchess of Canton), and the Fourth Sea Lord, Fleet Admiral Princess Sakura Larsen. Prince Stefan would have been present if not for the neccessity of having at least one immediate member of the Royal Family in New Copenhagen to hold down the fort, so to speak.

The dignitaries were shown their individual sleeping quarters first, which were more spacious and luxurious than most hotel's "Presidential" suits, and then they were given a tour of the residential side of the palace. After that a brief tour was given of the administerial wing of the palace in case some member of the royal family could not be found in the living wings.

[I had hoped my allies would show up en masse for this little ceremony, but due to a lack of interest I'm going to cancel the RP.]