NationStates Jolt Archive

Guild Submarine Arbiter

'Up scope!'
'Aye, sir!'
The white-uniformed watch officer stepped up to the instrument panel, deftly flicking the switches to send the periscope tube whirring up through the roof.
'Scope up, commander; radar coming online.'
'Status?'
'Preliminary sweep is clear sir.'

'Let's have a look.' The figure seated centrally gestured at the blank viewing screen.
The boat's captain bowed to the figure. 'As you command Maestro...On screen!'

The blackened surface crackled into life, revealing a breathtaking vista of ocean slowly being stained red by the setting sun.

'Wonderful...' breathed the Maestro, 'how peaceful it looks. Very well captain, you may proceed.'
'At your command! Diving control, stop all engines, surface the boat...coms, spread the word!'

Minutes later,the offshore waters from Tauranga to Invercargill were filled with steel shapes waking from their watery slumber...

Guild Drone Submarine Goliath, 0305


"Tasking received from flag sir."
The commander tore the thin printout from the gloved hands of the waiting ensign.
"Very well...diving controls, surface the boat. Air Officer!"
"Sir!"
"Your target is Christchurch Airport. The fifteen minutes begins now."
"Aye, commander! get those drones in the air!"

********
O310

A loose gaggle of dart-like objects swept off the sea and other the beach, closely hugging the rolling terrain of the Canterbury plains. Cutting through the night air, fast and low, they sped towards the glow of lights on the northern horizon, taking care to skirt any settlements along the way. When after a few minutes the mass of illumination that was Christchurch dominated the ninety degree arc before them, they abruptly changed course and swept inland in a wide circle to the west.

0318

The drones cleared the final miles towards the airfield, still flying low. As the seconds counted down, they popped up over the perimeter fence and into the bright lights of the airfield.

The formation immediately disintegrated, a pair of drones skimming low across each of the main runways to disgorge their cargo of mini-durandal cratering munitions. Another pair swept up towards the control centres, their anti-radiation missiles streaking aware to airburst in the face of the fragile radar equipment; the fragmentation blast also serving to shatter power cables and equipment throughout the control centre. A final group of aircraft hit the main fuel storage facility, concrete piercing rounds puncging straight into their oily heart to send a spear of flame shooting into the morning darkness.

The trickle of seconds stopped cleanly at the twentieth minute.

EOE WESTPAC Headquarters, Noumea, New Caledonia

"Admiral, sombody's bombing Christchurch."

Admiral Robert Fortmain sighed heavily. "Well, it was bound to happen, sooner or later. Any idea who?"

Commander Dysart shook her head. "Sorry Admiral. Preliminary data suggests a sub-launched preparatory bombardment."

"Anything from ES or SatCom?"

"Not so far, sir."

"SSIN the report to Kaligrad, and put a couple of BF-6Rs up at the edge of New Zealand airspace." The Admiral keyed a series of options up on his console display. "Get Poitier out to sea with her escorts, and tell Admiral Georges on Malmedy to get her battlegroup turned around ASAP. If someone's getting frisky in our backyard, we may need some more firepower."

He hit several keys in succession, then spoke to the two grim faces that appeared on his display. "Good morning. Have you seen the reports from Christchurch?"

General Harriet Gonzalez, CinC WESTAIRPAC, nodded. Battle Commander Piotr Vladislaw, Ground Forces Commander for EOE's western Pacific units, only grunted. Admiral Fortmain quickly briefed both officers on his dispositions to date, then said, "Per standing instructions from Marshall King, I am now at your orders, Battle Commander Vladislaw."

General Gonzalez echoed the Admiral's words. "Sir, WESTAIRPAC is also at your disposal."

General Vladislaw cleared his throat. "Order TRINITY-3 throughout WESTPAC. Tell our friends to north of incident. I go now to contact Mikalgard." His image blanked out, follwoed immediately by General Gonzalez'.

Admiral Fortmain keyed the display off and hit the general alarm key. "All stations, Battle Commander Vladislaw is now CinCPAC. Go to TRINITY-3."

All across the western Pacific, dark grey warships suddenly lit up the atmosphere with electromagnetic energy; aircraft on isolated islands rolled out of revetments and roared into the sky; and hundreds of thousands of soldiers grabbed extra magazines for their weapons and moved to defensive positions. The South Pacific was the Dominion's back yard, and anyone engaging in military adventures there was playing a very dangerous game.

Near Christchurch, South Island

Like monstrous whales, a collection of steel shapes rose from the inky offshore waters. Before them, the rolling coastline opened up to the north and south, with flares of light flickering from the direction of Christchurch airfield.

Heavy pressure doors began to open on the superstructures of half-submerged vessels, allowing the sea to sweep into their cavernous yawning mouths; at last smaller shapes began to emerge from within, as if the host vessels were regurgitating them.

The swarm of small craft collected around the larger submarines like ducklings about their mother, before at last they swept off in the direction of the flickering lights to the south west.

***

The boats bounced across the night-time waters of Pegasus Bay, swinging east to aim for a landfall to the north of the mass of lighting that was Christchurch. At length, the mouth of the Waimakariri river rose came into view, a gaping gap in the line of the coast. Taking care to keep the river to their right, the leading vessels herded their charges to the southern bank, racing through the rapidly shallowing waters...

The forward vessels burst ashore, engines still surging; as if by clockwork the serried ranks of black-clad infantry swept over the bows of the beached vessels an on to solid ground. Small teams split off to rapidly secure the higher ground beyond the alnding site, as the second wave broke upon the shore...

***

Guild Submarine Arbiter

The communications officer quickly scanned the printout before turning to address his superior. "Maestro, General Hamilton reports lead elements of 1st Brigade ashore at Waimakariri; no opposition encountered. Brigadiers Eraclaire and Dagobel report initial success at Dunedin and Invercargill. No word as yet from Colonel Bashianus at Westport."
The seated figure of the Maestro slowly laced and unlaced his long fingers. "Excellent..."

Im from Australia and we would be happy belt the crap out of those Kiwi Twits.
Unless ,ofcourse, they want to become a state, which we all know they secretly want to.

OOC: Why, exactly, are you mounting a full-scale invasion of New Zealand, and more specifically, Christchurch?

I lived in Christchurh for 11 years, and unless you like skiing, there is NOTHING of even remote strategic or economic value anywhere near the city. (US Antarctic Programme notwithstanding)

Incidentally, Christchurch International Airport is actually nowhere near the sea, and if a bunch of farmers with pump action shotguns, Lee-Enfield rifles, and semi-auto .22s can beat off your invasion forces near Westport, you have serious problems...

OOC: Why, exactly, are you mounting a full-scale invasion of New Zealand, and more specifically, Christchurch?

That kind of depends on whether you want the IC line or the OOC truth...

IC: The Guild have determined that New Zealand would make an excellent base for our operations in the southern Pacific theatre, and hence we mean to take it whilst at the same time gaining valuable experience into the staging of amphibious operations.

OOC: I need some RL territory for future purposes, and just about the only place worth taking that hasn't already been is NZ...

I lived in Christchurh for 11 years, and unless you like skiing, there is NOTHING of even remote strategic or economic value anywhere near the city. (US Antarctic Programme notwithstanding)

It is still the major urban centre on South Island, and so at some point it needs to be secured. I originally intended a simultaneous invasion of the north as well, but things were changed following an OOC discussion with TEO

Incidentally, Christchurch International Airport is actually nowhere near the sea, and if a bunch of farmers with pump action shotguns, Lee-Enfield rifles, and semi-auto .22s can beat off your invasion forces near Westport, you have serious problems...

I know about the airfield; I merely stated that teh fires could be seen from the sea (yes, my knowledge of local geography is rusty, but I imagined it was a safe bet that massive plumes of flaming aviation fuel being pumped into the night sky might be visible quite a way off)

As to the other point, you have really lost me here...ah I think I see- you are taking the absence of contact with Colonel Bashianus to infer the defeat of that force...?

Oh well, perhaps I should clarify the situation:

***

Guild Submarine Arbiter

"Maestro, report from Colonel Bashianus: 'Forces ashore, have encountered sporadic opposition from enraged local militias which have been successfully dispersed with neglible loss. Large stocks of archaic weaponry have been seized...'"

***

Western Elizabeth: can't really comment on that!

In the Defense of New Zealand the Dr_Twist Government has Ordered the Mobilization of Forces to Australia to begin an Assault on Alloy Run.

Will post in more detail later.

Dr_Twist.

The Warlord keyed open his direct link to his Malefic Master. "Your Omniferocity, we have reports of an unknow force attacking New Zealand."

A magnificently-gloved hand reached out of the shadows and touched several keys on the Master Control Console, calling up the relevant data. "What is your proposed plan of action?"

"I believe that we can take advantage of the situation and occupy at least part of the archipelago."

"I disagree. Our resources are already heavily involved elsewhere."

"My Lord, this is similar to the situation that brought us New Caledonia."

"Which was finally conquered at the cost of twleve thousand dead New Caledonians and a three-year guerilla war which cost half a billion credits to put down. The Dominion does not repeat unprofitable mistakes."

"I bow to your wisdom, my Lord. What should we do?"

"Contact the New Zealand authorities in Wellington and offer our services in their defense ... after these newcomers have finished occupying South island"

The Warlord pondered this. "Doesn't that mean EOE will be spending money with little concrete return?"

"Not at all. There are more than three million people in New Zealand- most of whom live on North Island. A military conquest would be prohibitively expensive. We will guarantee the Kiwis' security- on North island. This will allow your Economic Penetration and External Security Departments easy access to the island. We will establish joint basing agreements with them- for their defense of course."

The Warlord bowed low. "I will contact the Wellington authorities once the unknown forces are close to consolidating their hold on South Island."

"See about contacting these unknowns as well. I dislike surprises."

The Warlord keyed open his direct link to his Malefic Master. "Your Omniferocity, we have reports of an unknow force attacking New Zealand."

A magnificently-gloved hand reached out of the shadows and touched several keys on the Master Control Console, calling up the relevant data. "What is your proposed plan of action?"

"I believe that we can take advantage of the situation and occupy at least part of the archipelago."

"I disagree. Our resources are already heavily involved elsewhere."

"My Lord, this is similar to the situation that brought us New Caledonia."

"Which was finally conquered at the cost of twleve thousand dead New Caledonians and a three-year guerilla war which cost half a billion credits to put down. The Dominion does not repeat unprofitable mistakes."

"I bow to your wisdom, my Lord. What should we do?"

"Contact the New Zealand authorities in Wellington and offer our services in their defense ... after these newcomers have finished occupying South island"

The Warlord pondered this. "Doesn't that mean EOE will be spending money with little concrete return?"

"Not at all. There are more than three million people in New Zealand- most of whom live on North Island. A military conquest would be prohibitively expensive. We will guarantee the Kiwis' security- on North island. This will allow your Economic Penetration and External Security Departments easy access to the island. We will establish joint basing agreements with them- for their defense of course."

The Warlord bowed low. "I will contact the Wellington authorities once the unknown forces are close to consolidating their hold on South Island."

"See about contacting these unknowns as well. I dislike surprises."

NZ is more than 4 million now your statement is still correct
but yeah defend the homeland

OOC: Fair enough.

Just bear in mind that Christchurch International Airport is NOT an Airfield. It's a full size International Airport, and is one of only two airports in the entire country capable of taking the C-5B galaxy and the Antonov Cargo plane (Jean Batten International in Auckland is the other one).

There is also an old RNZAF base in Christchurch, at Wigram. I'm pretty sure the entire RNZAF force at Wigram consists of two UH-1D Iroquois helicopters, and any flying aircraft in the RNZAF Musuem there. Not exactly the sort of thing to inspire Fear in an invading army... :D

IC: Port Moresby, Roycelandian New Guinea

"Sir, Alloy Run just invaded New Zealand!" the young aide announced to the Officer of the Watch at the Communications Centre.

"Bugger." The Officer picked up the phone and made some calls.

"New Zealand has almost zero strategic value, but we don't want people thinking we're soft on Regional Security. Commander Sword wants some Dreadnoughts sent there, as well as the IRAS Terrordactyl Airship Carrier. Get on with it."

"Right away, Sir..."

The Dr_Twist Government will give Nations Access to airports and Naval Ports in Australia for the Use for an assault on New Zealand!

Fleet Marshall King was not a happy Supreme Commander. "All right, Piotr. What do you have available for New Zealand?"

Battle Commander Vladislaw was none too happy about things himself, but remained professional. "Poitier and Malmedy battelgroups are holding position two hundred kilometers north of islands. Is most I can spare and still protect New Caledonia."

Marshall King checked her SSIN display and nodded wearily. "We're stretched a little thin right now, Piotr, but I've managed to rob Peter and Paul both, and you'll be getting a strike force in about ninety hours."

Vladislaw's eyebrow rose a fraction. "Was my understanding that only Home Squadrons are available."

The Marshall keyed several commands into her console and SSINed the data to her subordinate. "Here's what I've set up. 16th Fleet is on the way back from the Gulf of Mexico. They'll relieve Task Force Kanaka at the Galapagos in about thirty hours. Kanaka is ready to steam, and they'll pull out as soon as the 16th is within 12 hours. Thirty hours later, the 24th Fleet, 11th Maritime Support Group, 30th Assault Group, and the 100th Interdiction Squadron will steam west from Forlorn Hope. They'll start forming up at Phase Line Creosote by tomorrow morning, and should be ready to depart in two days."

Shaking his head, Vladislaw quickly looked over the fleet dispositions. "Risky, but acceptable. What of the 99th and 312th Air Wings?"

Marshall King sighed. "Piotr, you already have two Air Wings and an additional Bomb Group. I'm sending the 203rd Airmobile, but other than that, you'll have to manage with what you have in-theater. You aren't supposed to be invading North Island, just helping the Kiwis protect it."

Vladislaw grunted. "Have Wellington authorities agreed to accept help?"

The Marshall smiled grimly. "We haven't asked 'em yet. Once the Alloy Run forces are close to consolidating South Island, we'll politely offer our support."

OOC: I am a RL New Zealander and heh, I can tell you that you shouldn't have too much of a problem taking this country. In fact, you have probably sent too much IMO. Our airforce is near non-existent (really it only contatins Orion and Hercules transports) and our navy is fairly small, mostly confined to coastal patrol for customs and the fishery department. If you get any resistance, it would be through guerrilla warfare inland - that is were our army specializes.

Anyway if you need anyone to RP the defending side, I would be happy to offer my help.

And just one last thing, if you were going to take anywhere I would highly suggest Wellinton. Just storm the Beehive and the country would fall apart, honestly.

God Defend New Zealand!

OOC: As JRV says, it's not that hard to take over New Zealand. The Prime Minister (Helen "Allan" Clarke, as the joke goes) isn't very popular, the Army's training is geared around guerrilla warfare and waiting for the Australians or the US to show up, and unless scenery, sheep, and skifields have become important military objectives, there's really not a lot of value in the country.

However, one in four people in New Zealand own a firearm, so you're quite likely to run into resistance from farmers and people in the cities, quite a large number of whom will have SLRs, SKS, and other Semi-Auto rifles, not to mention all the Lee-Enfields, Mausers, hunting rifles, and shotguns that people have- when I lived in NZ, every single person I knew had a family member with either a Lee-Enfield, Mauser, pump-action shotgun, or other high-powered rifle.

And don't forget you'll have the Maoris wanting their land back as well... all in all, you're probably better off either scrubbing the operation, or at least paying for everyone to move to Australia... :D

OOC

I wouldn't underestimate the NZ army with it's contingent of suicide Sheep.

:p

<OOC>
The items listed in your posts are the reasons EOE is not going to invade New Zealand: the victory wouldn't really be worth the cost. The Dominion is going to help the Wellington authorities (such as they are) hold on to North Island. EOE military aircraft and ships will be stationed there to protect North Island from further attacks (incidentally giving the Dominion more surveillance coverage around the soutwest Pacific).

We now return you to the RP already in progress.

TEO

OOC: apologies for my absence- thanks to TEo & all for keeping this going in the meantime ;)

***

Guild Submarine Arbiter

"Maestro, communications reports a significant increase in traffic in the South Pacific."
"Faster perhaps, but not entirely unexpected. Is the vicinity still clear?"
"The scope is clear Maestro."
"Wonderful. I want the deployments completed within twelve hours; by the time anyone else gets here I want this fleet underwater."
"At your command!"

***

Headquarters of 1st Brigade, near Christchurch

A small body of battledress-clad officers hunched over the laminated surfaces of a large scale maps of the Canterbury area.
"Our spearheads have entered the city here and here," stated a bulky soldier gesturing furiously across a plan of Christchurch, "there has been sporadic resistance from a handful of military and police personnel but nothing the boys couldn't deal with if wrapped in clingfilm. The city will be secured by 0900 as planned."
"We're about to give the locals a little relief from the usual rush hour traffic, " quipped a second man, his face half obscured by shadows."
"What is the next objective general?" questioned a third individual, and at his words the remaining pairs of eyes descended upon the only woman present at the gathering.
General Hamilton studdied the charts intently for a few moments before replying. "Half of the Brigade digs in around Christchurch, the rest pushed overland to meet up with 2nd Brigade at Dunedin."
"That's a considerable distance commander..." mumbled one of the men before judgement managed to clamp his mouth shut.
Hamilton fixed the errant officer with a sour glare. "Then your task will be to round suitable transport: buses, trucks, anything that moves. I want the 1st battalion on the road by 1200..."

***

3rd Brigade HQ, Invercargill

"Elements of 2nd Battalion are still clearing out a few minor pockets of disorder; a group of police are holed up in the main station, and some civilians having changed themselves in front of the town offices."
"Well, crack on with it, but see that Knowles doesn't crack down too hard. The last thing we need is dead civilians stirring up mass outrage."
"Any other instructions boss?"
"Yes. Tell Knowles to keep the lid tight on this place- I don't want to here a squeak out of Invercargill with most of the Brigade halfway to Queenstown."
"I'll pass that on to the colonel sir..."

***

East of Westport

The convoy of trucks slowed and pulled to the side of the road. A fresh faced lieutenant jumped out of the passenger seat of the foremost vehicle, and sprinted round to the rear set of wheels.
After a moment he was joined by the sergeant, still shaking his head at the folly of jumping out of a stationary vehicle in hostile terrain. The trouble with this job was that it seemed too easy; opposition had been virtually nil. It wasn't hard to let one's guard down.
The lieutenant called him over. "Just a puncture, well need to get it sorted though..."
"A puncture sir?" The sergeant felt his shoulders tense, even though the countryside was as quiet as a tomb. If it was an ambush, then whoever was staging it was taking a damned long time to spring things.
"Nothing sinister sarg, looks like we picked up an old nail or something."
Where did they get these young officers from..."Even so sir, we'd best keep moving." He whistled, and waved for the second truck to pull up. "If we squeeze a bit we can redistribute the crew in the other vehicles and get on."
"Yes, certainly, see to it..."
It was going to be a long haul thought the sergeant to himself, but he needed to kep sharp. The lieutenant might be wet behind the ears, but he knew his job all right. They had to stick to schedule.

OOC: Well, can I RP to NZ Government?

OOC:

Since this RP is dragging in time and quality I'm going to wrap up things on South Island so as to conclude my business here. This is mostly my fault I must admit- I detest conquest RPs as a general rule; the characters I'm working with are the worst sort of 2D cutouts- if that- and I'm planning on completely overhauling AR in the near future to make it, dare I say it, potentially interesting. So please bear with me now in the expectation of better things to come ;) Anyway, that leaves the fate of North Island up to TEO et al...

Apologies for the forced sequence of events here, but lets be honest, this was never a compelling tale of heroism and determination...:p

JRV: The NZ government basically has to deal with TEO, seeing as they don't really have the strength to contest AR's hold on South Island. If you are still interested I'd get in touch with them.

IC:

Nelson, South Island

The triple sphere flag of the Guild slowly rose up the pole, eventually catching the wind to stream out over the last bastion of a free New Zealand on South Island. The day before advancing columns of Guild soldiers had streamed across the mountain roads into lakeside Queenstown, forestalling any attempt on the part of the locals to mount organised resistance from their mountain fastness.

Christchurch

News of the capitulation of Nelson, coming hard on the heels of the unexpected occupation of Queenstown, appeared to knock the stuffing out of the government officials held captive in the regional centres. With hope of assistance diminishing, one by one they fell prey to the alternating threats and sweet words of Guild negotiators.

At length, bitter at their perceived abandonment by the Wellington regime, representatives from Canterbury, Otago and Southland signed the Declaration of Christchurch, by which the said communities formerly renounced all ties to Wellington and placed themselves under the protection of the Guild. Over the course of the next day, the remaining regions of South Island one by one diserted their erstwhile allegiances and acceded to the so-called Union of Christchurch.

From: Eternal Arch-Villain Psychopompos, Minister for Pre-Subjugation External Affairs

To: New Zealand Foreign Ministry

Subject: Security

His Omniferocity's government is concerned about your government's lack of effective response to the attack by Alloy Run. Intelligence reports indicate that your enemy is preparing an assault on North Island. In the interests of peace, the Dominion is prepared to guarantee the security of North Island by providing a modern, effective defense.

With the approval of your government, Dominion armed forces will be deployed to strategic locations around North Island, and EOE naval assets will patrol the Cook Straits and the northern portion of the Tasman Sea.

In addition, Evil Overlord Enterprises will provide weapons systems to the New Zealand military, and experienced military personnel will train local forces in their use and upkeep.

His Omniferocity's government is unwilling to risk a full-scale invasion to reconquer South island, due to urgent prior military commitments elsewhere. The forces enroute are sufficient to defend North island, but not enough to embark on military offensives against an entrenched enemy.

EOE forces can begin deploying within 24 hours. We require only your permission to begin. Any advice on how best to deploy the Dominion's forces will be appreciated.

"Do you suppose we can trust them?"

Helen Clark, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, sighed deeply. "And how would I know that, Phillip?"

Deputy Prime Minister Cullen laughed sourly. "A better question would be, by whom would we rather be occupied?" he grumbled.

Defense Minister Mark Burton shook his head. "If the Overlord wanted to, he could simply gobble us up without so much as a by-your-leave, the way he did New Caledonia. At least he's asking permission, and he's offering to arm us as well."

Phil Goth, the Foreign Minister, echoed the Prime Minister's sigh. "I suppose the real question is, why didn't this happened sooner?"

Prime Minister Clark looked around the table at her Cabinet. "Do we have any choice at all? Mark?"

The Defense Minister was shaking his head again. "Even considering just North Island, there's too much territory to protect and only a few score thousand troops to defend it. Our armed forces are dedicated and will fight hard, but the military has been a budgetary whipping boy for too long for them to do more than die gallantly."

Janice Reilly, the Interior Minister, asked, "What about arming our people and waging guerrilla war in the hills?"

Mark Burton sighed heavily. "That hasn't helped the folks on South island much, has it?" He held up a placatory hand. "If Alloy Run does invade North island, we'll be forced to resort to that, but that is a truly desperate last chance, with little probability of success."

There was compassion in the Prime Minister's eyes as she looked at her Defense Minister. "So you're telling me that my only choice is which group of foreigners will be landing troops?"

"I'm sorry, but those are the grim facts."

Helen Clark bowed her head for a moment, then rose from her seat. "Very well. Patrick, contact the Evil overlord's Foreign Minister and accept the Dominion's assistance. Try and turn it into an alliance, if you can. Nicolas, get your people working on coordinating our forces with the Overlord's in the shortest time possible. Albert, I'll want to address the people tonight. See to it."

The Cabinet rose when the Prime Minister did. She looked each minister in the eye in turn. "Listen carefully, everyone. Make sure you all stay calm and confident when talking to the Press. We'll all be beset by the dratted creatures as soon as we set foot outside. Refer all inquiries to the Communications Ministry. We'll weather this storm yet."

[The minister of defence is Mark Burton]

"Oh, cheeky clarkie messed it up again."

OOC: lol, and the foreign minister is Phil Goth. Plus we don't have an Interior Ministry nor a Communications Ministry... and you forgot the Governor-General, who has some importance.

Reporters from the national and international media flock the press gallery in Parliament, waiting to shoot questions at the emerging ministers. Cameramen encircle the MP's, microphones are shoved in their faces, camera flashes flicker…

TVNZ Political Correspondent: "One News has reason to believe that NZ First leader Winston Peters was visiting Christchurch at the time of the take-over. Any word on him yet? Do you care?"

TV 3 Political Correspondent (pushing past the TVNZ guy): "Who is responsible?"

Radio NZ: "What is actually being down about this, this atrocity? Surely the New Zealand Government won't stand for it!?"

ABC New Zealand Correspondent: "The Australian people are asking, why should they care? Y'know, why should we care if New Zealand gets invaded? Is it of any real significance to us?
If we bailed you out, would you consider becoming part of the Commonwealth of Australia?"

The Roycelandian Government has also contacted what remains of the NZ Government, offering their support in liberating the South Island.

Already, a Roycelandian Expeditionary Force has landed on Stewart Island, pre-empting such a move by the Alloy Run and providing a base for further Roycelandian Operations in the area.

The REF, which consists of approximately 2,000 Imperial Guardsmen, some helicopters, the dreadnought IRNS Glimmer Twins, two IAe Harrier Jump Jets, and two IAe Seafire fighter aircraft, as well as some C-47 Transport aircraft and a couple of Sunderland Flying Boats, has reported a "textbook deployment", with only a few casualties inflicted by farmers and hunters, before the Roycelandians explained they weren't invading, and they were on the Island to prevent an invasion by Alloy Run and anyone else who felt like having a crack at it.

So far, the town of Halfmoon Bay (AKA Oban) has been secured, with the local populace (all 600 of them ) free to go about their daily lives. None of the residents will have their firearms confiscated, and so far the Imperial Guard have reported no problems.

OOC: The closest thing NZ has to a Ministry of the Interior would be the Department of Internal Affairs, whose main job appears to consist of issuing passports to people.

I didn't think anyone would object too loudly to Roycelandia "securing" Stewart Island, as part of a longer military intervention programme. More troops will be deployed shortly, but I wanted to keep the initial deployment reasonably realistic. Bear in mind the troops have to secure the Island, and possibly make cross- Foveaux Strait strikes on Alloy Run troops, hence the aircraft and so on...

OOC- Alloy Run is now under new ownership (or more precisely old leadership: the RL colleague I gave it to some weeks ago has now handed it back in a strop, leaving me with the debris). For general information I'm the player behind Oshima and Izu, AKA Ringoku to those who've visited the Euro forums, AKA Antoku to members of the Unforgiven/New Commonwealth (who should be able to vouch that I did previously own Alloy Run as well).

I would ask you all to kindly bear with me while I sort things out.

<OOC>

The minister of defence is Mark Burton

OOC: lol, and the foreign minister is Phil Goth. Plus we don't have an Interior Ministry nor a Communications Ministry... and you forgot the Governor-General, who has some importance.

Mea maxima culpa. It was quite late, so I didn't bother doing more than a cursory bit of research via the CIA World Factbook. I just made up the names.

The exclusion of the Governor-General was deliberate, since she is the personal representative of Queen Elizabeth- who doesn't exist in NS.

Thanks for keeping me straight. I'll edit the post forthwith.

TEO

Battle Commander Piotr Vladislaw was tired, and his gruff Russian accent was more pronounced that usual. "Admiral, assessment of situation."

Rear Admiral Cartier, head of Military Intelligence, ran his hands through his thinning hair and employed a few choice expletives from his childhood. "General, why don't we just invade these idiots and have done with it? We'd really be doing them a favor."

"Bojemoi!" Vladislaw's fist thundered on the table to accompany the outburst. "Overlord says to assist New Zealand government with defense. This we will do. Begin briefing now."

Cartier called up a relief map of North Island. "Briefly, the place is a disaster area for our purposes. They have no infrastructure capable of rapidly moving reinforcements across the island, few usable airfields for heavy aircraft, and these thrice-damned mountains make matters even worse."

Brigadier General Taddeusz, commander of the 203rd Airmobile Division, looked at the map with a gleam in his eye. "It's lovely defensive terrain, though."

Cartier sighed. "Murphy's 3rd law of armed conflict, Jurgen. Make it tough for the enemy to get in, and it'll be impossible for you to get out."

Wing Commander al-Habashi, commanding the 312th Air Superiority Wing, grumbled, "I don't like the radar coverage, sir. We'll need at least two dozen radar sites around the island, and round-the clock aerial coverage as well. How soon until we get some airships in?"

"Am told 11th maritime Support Group has some on board." Vladislaw's accent failed to disguise the skepticism in his voice.

Al-Habashi keyed in some commands to her table console. A series of interlocking cones originating in the mountains overlaid the map in green. "With your permission sir, I'll put in a request for at least twenty. With twenty fully-equipped airship stations providing back-up for the fixed positions ..." More cones overlaid the map in blue. "... we'll have excellent coverage, without flying the STRs to pieces. Of course, air-defense will still be a stone bitch, no matter what we do."

Vice Admiral Delarossa leaned forward. "I think we could supplement the coverage with off-shore stations." Everyone looked at her in surprise. Navy officers rarely appeared interested in static defense. She grinned at them as she continued, "We can build off-shore platforms with fixed and airship radars."

Delarossa keyed in some commands, and a series of red dots appeared in the Cook Straits. The line of dots headed west around Cape Egmont and continued up the western side of the island as far as Auckland. "It will be expensive, but we can hire Kiwis to do most of the work- which ought to play well politically in Wellington. I think a total of nine stations should do the job."

Vladislaw leaned forward. "I like this plan. Send details to me today." He sat back. "What about improving local capability?"

Lieutenant General Moore, Executive Officer of XI Corps, cleared the map from the screen and called up the New Zealand military TO&E. "Just about anything we do will be an order-of-magnitude improvement, sir. Their Air Force is mainly designed for shipping-lane patrol work. We can bring in a squadron of export-version Corsarius air-superiority planes. They have short legs, but will work just fine as interceptors around Wellington and the Cook Straits. I think our best option for the Air Force would be several squadrons of attack helicopters, twice as many transports, and at least two squadrons of ground-attack birds. I'd like to give 'em Buccaneers."

Admiral Cartier ran some figures on his own display before interrupting. “General, you’re going to double the size of their Air Force.”

Moore grimaced. “Way I see it, we either conquer the place or do our best to make sure no one else can do it. Unless we’re planning on a decades-long massive military presence on North Island, we need to get the Kiwis into the 21st century militarily as fast as is practical.” He added a few more figures to the screen. “Army will remain fairly static in size, with a lot more reserves and slightly fewer regulars. Army command will be further decentralized, and each regional unit will have attached air- and air-defense- assets."

Admiral Delarossa looked at the figures. "What about their Navy?"

Shaking his head, Moore said, "The Kiwi Navy has mostly been a coastal patrol unit. I think that's a good idea, so the Navy will remain largely unchanged- just a little larger. Since they're going to be a defensive unit, anything with a lot of punch and short legs is the ticket: Patrol boats, diesel subs, missile ships, minelayers, and minesweepers."

Vladislaw nodded. "Da. With short-range Navy, Kiwis also cannot get into trouble with neighbors."

Admiral Cartier laughed along with the rest. "Now all we have to do is convince the Wellington government to go along with it."

Battle Commander Vladislaw waved the problem aside with a hairy hand. "Kiwis have little choice. Either bring military up to speed, or have thousands of Dominion troops on island for next hundred years. Will take decade to upgrade new Zealand military. Will be glad to see us go by then, I think."

Roycelandia's Imperial Armaments Corporation has also made contact with the NZ Government, offering to supply them with a variety of weapons and aircraft, including the Spitfire Fighter, AC-47 Gunship, and some Roycelandia-class Dreadnoughts for the Navy...

OOC- After suitable reflection, I have decided to continue Alloy Run's claim nothwithstanding the unwelcome attention. Since I don't know what was going on in the mind of my illustrious predecessor things might not gel completely with previous posts- AFAIC that just can't be helped. An early casualty is going to be the names of AR personnel (apart from the fact that they seem to be loosely based on an anime I've seen once, I can't keep track of them)

IC-

Sometimes disagreable things just need to be done for the greater good; and of that he was certain. The career of Lieutenant-General Karl August von Rabenstein-Goetz had never strayed far from the tightrope of controversy strung precariously above the gaping pit of infamy, yet never before had he seriously considered open mutiny. But the march of tiem brings new surprises, and on this day the scion of the former ruling house of the short-lived Empire of Monte Castello found himself encased within the alloy prison of a command submarine watching with slowly diminishing disbelief as his new masters frittered away a glittering opportunity with legendary incompetence.

A decapited body is an easy opponent; always strike for the head. But what had the follish Guild leader done? The bombardment of undefended Christchurch, followed by the mass landing of thousands of troops on South Island may no sense so long as the Wellington government went unmolested. Worse- a functioning regime, with the all-important air of legtimicay in teh face of unwarranted aggression was now serving as a beacon to attract all many of rival powers, eager to impose their own control over these islands.
If Wellington falls, so does the state. His strategy might have worked, had his new masters listened to the fruits of his years of service with the armed forces of three nations. Had not his unauthorised march on Madrid at the head of the Army of Galicia forced the various Spanish factions to the peace table? Yet the so-called Maestro, a vain and foolish dilletante playing at the soldier had chosen to go his own way- and the moment things started getting hot, the coward had ordered his offshore submarines to slip to the safe ocean depths, abandoning his army to fate.

Spurred on by the resolution of his thoughts, the general fastened his sidearm to his waist. Standing in his cabin, he posed briefly before the small shaving mirror, adjusting the decorations of four nations spread across his immaculate dress uniform. A man should always look the part when about to face destinyThe strip lighting of the cabin glinted off the Star of the Blue Cross Order, the order of a now defunct empire, but one still worn with pride. Satisfied at last, he quited the cabin, methodically snapping the door shut behind him.

Surprised faces greeted his emergence on the command deck; ignoring the curious expressions they wore, the general strode confidentally over to the centre of the chamber. The fop was there as expected, preening himself in that self-satisfied contempable way, with the unbearably smug air of a man who had just won the world through his own brilliance. At length he looked over at Rabenstein-Goetz with faintly amused eyes.
"The victory parade isn't today Corvino..."
The general's face twitched involuntarily at the sound of the Guild's name for him. Why they didn't use his given name, the title of a once-proud aristocratic lineage was unknown to him, although he suspected that snobbery came into it. The Maestro probably felt uncomfortable in the presence of a genuine blue-blood.
A couple of sycophants chortled behind the Maestro, who, the general noted, didn't even have the breeding to keep a straight face at his own joke. Or perhaps it was mererly the discipline he lacked.
When Rabenstein remained drawn up before him, the amused look faded and the bored expression resumed its place. "What is it general, I employ you to command men, not stand about decked out like a Christmas tree..."
"Then perhaps you should use the skills your money has purchased, Maestro..." The bizarre title was almost spat out through nearly clenched teeth.
"What is that supposed to mean?" The fop's features were morphing into a pattern Rabenstein assumed was supposed to indicate rage.
"It means, sir that I am no longer prepared to sit about on the botom of the ocean like a coward whilst the god-damned campaign slips through our fingers."
The maestro was out of his seat in an instant, his thin voice rising to a wail. "Are you questioning my command, mercenary?" The bridge had fallen deathly silent now, and the aides nearest to the sparring pair had abruptly retreated to one side.
Rabenstein-Goetz allowed a pleasant smile to cross his lips. "But of course not...why waste breath questioning something I mean I am about to take."
The expression of unrestrained rage on the Maestro's face was only just sliding into shocked disbelief when the first 9mm slug tore through his features, completely ruining his facial.

The general neatly reholstered his sidearm, noting that the Maestro's supposed aides had yet to even draw a weapon. By the looks on their faces, he estimated that they were just sufficiently aware to realise that affirmative action was no longer called for. Rabenstein neatly folded his hands together; the problem was removed, but a solution still needed to be forged.
"Warriors of Alloy Run, while we loiter here your countrymen are alone on a hostile shore, waiting for our enemies to close in. Do we mean to abandon them?"
After a few seconds, a murmoured 'no' broke out from the crowd of men.
"I have had the honour to command the forces of many nations, and I tell you now, without any doubt, that you, the brave fighting men and women of Alloy Run have the mettle to overthrow any who would overthrow you, provided you can summon up the will to win. Have you such a will?"
The cry of 'yes' was instant now, louder, and more confident, as if the officers and crew could already sense a change in the air. They were almost ready to act.
"I have nothing to prove, no need to fight this fight or even reason to remain with you. I am not native to your land, nor am I one of your own leaders, so I have no right to lead you. Yet if you wish it, I will fight alongside you to the best of my ability, so as to complete this campaign for the resounding glory of Alloy Run..."
This time the general never even got to pose his question; his words were drowned out with a riot of applause and affirmation. Gradually, a single phrase emerged from the cacaphony of emotion, rising along with the newly awakened spirit of the crew to ride a deafening crescendo of sound: Maestro Corvino, Maestro Corvino

Rabenstein cursed inwardly; knowing his luck he would never be rid of the damned appelation now. But it was time to go to work, perhaps he would be able to salvage something from the limp campaign after all.

He raised his voice to calm the overexcited hubbub. "Men, we have work to do that has already been delayed too long. "When is the next fleet comms scheduled?"
"Two hours, thirty six minutes," announced one of the former Maestro's toadies, swiftly adapting to the new circumstances even as he gingerly avoided his former master's fallen corpse.
"Good; gentlemen we have until then to reword our strategy. Diving control-"
"Sir, I mean Maestro!"
"In 156 minutes I want this tub on the roof; Comms will stand by until then."
"Aye, maestro."

As the crew returned to their stations with a new found efficiency, Rabenstein found himself gravitating toward the familair chair in the centre of the room, a piece of furniture which minutes ago had been an object of hatred. He suddenly felt a strong urge to sit, but he resisted. His place was at the ops table. Beisdes, reaching the chair would mean removing his predecessor.
"The heads of staff will join meet in the ops room" he announced stiffly, already heading in the direction. "Oh, one more thing: would someone see to it that his excellency is stowed somewhere more appropriate by the time I return..."

Flight Captain Miles Travis walked around the sleek aircraft one last time. He ran his gloved hands over the fuselage, then turned and faced the group of pilot-trainees. "All right, folks. You've all logged a dozen or so hours as trainees in the AS-12, and every one of you have flown thousands of hours in other aircraft. We've spent weeks in the classroom making sure you all have a thorough intellectual understanding of the aircraft's capabilities."

He swept the group with a hard gaze. "None of that will mean a damned thing once you get into the cockpit for your first solo flight this morning. The Corsarius is completely unlike the aircraft you've flown. Those of you who've flown transport aircraft will find that their reflexes are almost 100% wrong for the AS-12. All of you will probably have trouble with the AS-12's speed and maneuverability. The C-130 takes a lot of work to get it to turn or bank. The AS-12 requires finesse and a gentle touch on the stick."

Travis turned away from the trainees and keyed the overhead display unit to life. The number 36 appeared on the screen. Turning back to the group, Travis said, "There are thirty-six of you here today. You will all solo today, and will make many more flights over the next ten days." The number 7 appeared beneath the 36.

"That's how many of you will probably screw the pooch during the next ten days. There are only fifty-one AS-12s on North Island. You lot are expected to destroy seven of them. Every Corsarius you people destroy is one less to defend your country against Alloy Run- or some other aggressor."

He keyed the screen off. "My purpose in showing you these statistics is to make one last chance to puncture your swollen egos and keep the Interceptor Squadron intact. Respect the aircraft. Follow your instructions to the letter. Do not get intoxicated by being in total control of such a powerful machine. Any questions?"

Group Captain Mansfield looked around at his classmates, then asked, "What about call-signs?"

"Check your briefing packets. Call signs and radio freqs are set. Anything else?" No one spoke. "Very well. Go check out your birds."

Travis watched carefully as the trainee pilots moved out to the squadron's thirty-six AS-12s. Several of the would-be interceptor pilots ignored their ground crewmen and walked directly to the planes. Most of the rest gathered up the crew chief as they approached the planes. The prospective Commanding Officer of the Squadron, Group Captain Mansfield, went directly to his ground-crew chief and spent several minutes talking to her, then walked with her to inspect his plane. The New Zealand ground crews were still only half-way through the intensive training in the new Ground Crew Academy, so EOE personnel were performing the maintenance until locals were completely up to speed.

Wing Commander Alison Derlan stepped up beside her subordinate. "Well, Miles? How do you think they'll do?"

"I think we'll be lucky if we don't lose seven trainees in addition to the aircraft, boss." Travis grumped. "We're pushing them pretty hard."

"I think you're selling them short, Miles. Yourself, too. You've done fine job turning BUFF-drivers into fighter pilots."

The starter carts began whining as the pilots climbed into their cockpits. Travis shook his head. "They aren't fighter pilots yet, boss. If they make it to the end of the month, maybe I'll get optimistic."

Halfmoon Bay, Stewart Island

What had once been a tiny town of less than 600 people had turned into a small Air Harbour, with at least three Sunderland Flying Boats moored in the bay, and the local airstrip boasted half a dozen Spitfire fighters and a C-47 transport plane on the side of the runway.

Negotiations between Roycelandia and Alloy Run had apparently been underway for some time, and it looked like Stewart Island was going to become a Roycelandian Protectorate.

Christchurch's fate was still undecided, with rumours of a full-scale Roycelandian landing to "liberate" the city being denied by the Imperial Government, but possibly being true...

"Shaker-4, this is Kingfisher."

Flight Leftenant William 'Willy' Atkinson cursed inwardly and rolled the volume control on his flight helmet to a more comfortable level. "Shaker-4. Go ahead, Kingfisher."

Kingfisher, the EOE Master Warrant Leader in the airborne command post one hundred kilometers behind the fighter checked his display and grinned. "Shaker-4, we have an unknown aircraft on the deck at bearing 016 from your current heading. Target is five-zero kilometers from you, heading 033."

Atkinson swore as he keyed his radar panel to the remote data from the ST-22R airborne command post. This was supposed to be a routine training flight to map the many radar 'dead zones' for the air-defense network. The words of the Dominion Flight Instructor came to him as he eased his fighter to a slightly higher altitude. "There's no such thing as a ROUTINE flight, children. If you act as if every flight was a combat mission, you'll have a lot better chance of making it back to the base alive." The memory was little comfort.

"Kingfisher, Shaker-4. The radar picture is a bit fuzzy. I'll light the target up with my systems."

The Warrant Leader's voice on the crystal-clear communications circuit was firm and calm. "Negative, Shaker-4. Come right to 020 relative and drop to 5 klicks. I want you to get a visual first."

Atkinson snarled silently as he eased the sleek AS-12 around to the designated course and dropped several hundred meters. He checked the radar display, then began searching the indicated section of ocean visually. A stray thought brought his eyes back to the display. The target aircraft was moving at nearly one thousand KPH. The pilot eased the throttle out for a little more speed.

After a minute or so, Atkinson spotted the dark grey blur of the unknown aircraft against the green-blue of the Tasman Sea. "Kingfisher, Shaker-4. I have the Bogie on visual." He dialed up the magnification on the cockpit video display and examined the aircraft.

It was long and sleek, with a strange wing configuration. It had twin rudders, but they weren't in the usual place atop the engine housings. They were located on the sides of the plane, and were somewhat shorter than he'd expected. It was flying below one hundred meters at nearly the speed of sound according to the data from Kingfisher.

“Shaker-4, Kingfisher. Do you recognize the Bogie?”

“Negative Kingfisher. Bogie has no visible markings.”

“Roger that, Shaker-4. Light the Bogie up. Weapons tight.”

“Light him up, weapons tight, roger.” Atkinson’s mouth was dry as he toggled the AS-12’s missile radar to active.

The bogie reacted immediately. It rolled left and dove for the deck. By the time Atkinson got his AS-12 turned in pursuit, the bogie was almost directly beneath him and headed to Atkinson’s left. “Kingfisher, Shaker-4. Target is evading. Now heading 005 true on the deck.”

Kingfisher’s voice was professionally steady and calm, which made the bad news seem worse, somehow. “Roger that, Shaker-4. We are vectoring Indigo Flight to assist. ETA six mikes. Be advised that we no longer have the bogie on our screens.”

“A hell of a way to tell me I’m on my bloody own!” Atkinson thought savagely to himself. He increased his fighter’s speed past mach one and sped after the bogie. The grey aircraft rolled completely over to the right and climbed sharply as Atkinson began to catch up.

Suddenly calm, Atkinson rolled left to keep the bogie in front of him. The strange aircraft kept turning to the right and flashed past the nose of Atkinson’s fighter. Cursing out loud, Atkinson rolled his AS-12 on its left wing and chopped his speed. His tone warning chirped at him for a moment as the bogie lifted its left wing and darted to the right inside Atkinson’s wild turn. Pushing the throttle forward, Atkinson turned right, only to find empty sky in front of him.

Knowing that the bogie was now hunting him, Atkinson pulled straight up and back in a classic Immelman turn. He was rewarded with a brief glimpse of the bogie as it flashed past his windscreen to the left while he was still inverted. Recovering and rolling right, Atkinson pointed the AS-12 at the water and hit his afterburners.

The fighter screamed through the air, leaving a sonic boom behind it. Atkinson hoped that the sudden maneuver and opening range would give him the few seconds he needed to get some range on the more agile bogie. At one thousand meters, he pulled the nose up and began climbing to the left, rolling his fighter to search for the strange aircraft- which should have been several kilometers behind him.

A sharp whistle sounded in his headphones as the AS-12 detected targeting radars which swept the fighter from close astern. Even though he knew it was a futile effort, Atkinson immediately lifted the fighter’s nose and reduced speed sharply as he turned to the right. His vision went grey for several seconds as the extreme maneuver drained blood from his brain despite the best efforts of his G-suit. The whistling tone grew louder, then peaked in a single, high-pitched tone that told him he was as good as dead.

A strange voice in his headphones startled him. “Shaker-4 is dead.”

Kingfisher responded at once. “Roger that, Zulu-3. Shaker-4, are you all right?”

The sudden absence of the radar-warning tone in Atkinson’s headphones shook him out of the profound state of mental shock he’d fallen into. “Zulu-3? Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Kingfisher’s voice had a trace of amusement in it. “Shaker-4, you have just participated in an unscheduled combat maneuvering test. Zulu-3 will escort you back to the barn for debriefing. Kingfisher, out.”

Atkinson numbly reduced speed and brought his AS-12 back to level flight. Zulu-3 moved gracefully ahead of him and waggled his wings. An hour later, he taxied to a halt next to the exotic aircraft whose pilot had bested him.

The angry tirade that had been stewing in his mind during the flight back to evaporated when Atkinson saw the bronze leaf of a Squadron Commander on the epaulets of the pilot standing by the strange aircraft. Looking around quickly, he noticed several copies of the strange aircraft in revetments near the hangars. He shook his head, puzzled, then submitted to the ministrations of the crew chief in unhooking himself from the aircraft.

"With all due respect, sir, you look like shit." The Chief technical Sergeant's voice held a note of concern. Atkinson nodded wearily.

"I'd say that was appropriate for a dead man, Sergeant."

Hiding a grin, Sergeant Laidlaw said, "Don't feel bad about getting smoked by the commander, sir. She's one of the Dominion's top aces, and was flying the new AS-15 Reaver."

"It's a damned fine aircraft. How do I get one?" Atkisnon asked as he started levering hiself out of the cockpit. Halfway out, he froze. "She?" he asked numbly. "I got run all over the sky by a woman?"

Holding out a hand to assist his pilot, the Sergeant nodded. "Damned straight, sir. Welcome to the 21st century."

Observers on the ground in Dunedin, Christchurch, Wellington, and Auckland would have been startled to see what appeared to be a WWII Spitfire fighter roaring overhead at twice the speed of sound. If anyone managed to look closely, they would have identified the aircraft as a Jetfire Mk IVb, made by the Imperial Aerospace factory in Torpedo Bay, Roycelandia.

More specifically, these particular Jetfires were in a Photo Reconaissance Configuration, with lots of SOTA electronic imaging equipment- obviously getting the lie of the land, in case the shooting started again...

Observers on the ground in Dunedin, Christchurch, Wellington, and Auckland would have been startled to see what appeared to be a WWII Spitfire fighter roaring overhead at twice the speed of sound. If anyone managed to look closely, they would have identified the aircraft as a Jetfire Mk IVb, made by the Imperial Aerospace factory in Torpedo Bay, Roycelandia.

More specifically, these particular Jetfires were in a Photo Reconaissance Configuration, with lots of SOTA electronic imaging equipment- obviously getting the lie of the land, in case the shooting started again...


<OOC>
Just make sure these planes got good pictures of the 3 aircraft carriers- with their associated battlegroups- which are providing air-defense for North Island.

And don't forget the tethered airships with multi-frequency radars and lidar detectors, as well as the mobile radar stations operated by the EOE military on high ground overlooking the air and sea approaches.

It would also be advisable to take good photos of the EOE Reaver and Corsarius fighter planes that would have escorted any such unauthorized intruder ... assuming your aircraft weren't blown out of the sky for ignoring air-traffic controller warnings about restricted airspace.

As you should be able to tell by my previous posts, the New Zealand Air Force is being upgraded by the EOE military. During this process, Dominion military personnel are actively defending North Island. Until permanent radar facilities are established, continuous patrols by airborne radar aircraft are being supplemented by mobile radar transmitters, airships with radar/lidar onboard, and Combat Air Patrols by fighter aircraft. Add all of this electronic activity to the detection capabilities of the EOE fleet protecting the island, and there is little likelihood of your aircraft approaching North Island airspace from any direction without being detected, challenged, and shot down if radio warnings were ignored.

The last thing you posted about contacts with the NZ government in Wellington stated only that negotiations with the government for supplying weapons systems were underway. In the absence of a post regarding an alliance between Roycelandia and New Zealand, your planes would not be given permission to overfly North Island.

If you wish to change your reconnaissance to high-altitude aircraft outside North Island airspace, you could get equivalent intelligence data without risking a war. If you wanted to fly over South island, you have the Dominion's blessing. For the moment, attempting to overfly North Island without explicit permission would be tantamount to suicide.


TEO

OOC: OK, instead of a low-level pass over the North Island, we'll make it a High-Altitude one.

I haven't heard from Alloy Run about the further developments in the area, though, so the low-level pass over Dunedin and Christchurch stays...