NationStates Jolt Archive

It had drizzled all day, the light grey sky would not stop crying, unloading its tears on a seemingly innocent land for the atrocities commited around the world at this exact moment; or so the foreign relations minister thought as he sat within the warm confines of his limousine. He looked out across the tarmac, riddled with puddles and potholes at the garrison of Azerbaijani infantry, milling around underneath an olive drab tent. Four soldiers stood outside wearing their heavy leather trenchcoats which were soaked. Their heavy brown boots stood in puddles as they stared across the tarmac, seemingly frozen. They made no movement except the occasional noticeable breath.

Preperations had been completed for the arrival of the Euroslavian delegation. Everything except the weather. It was forecasted to be sunny and moderately warm out. It turned out to be drizzling all day with temperatures well below normal, enough to allow you to see your breath as you breathe. As he sat there, these thoughts crossing his mind, he absent-mindedly watched a UAZ rip across the tarmac, barreling through a sizable puddle and sending up plumes of water, it tore off into the distance, its blue light flashing. He sighed and glanced up at the Soviet Azerbaijani flag, flapping in the moderate westward wind. Each time the wind would calm down, the flag would too, lying limply, water dripping from its edges. Whenever the wind gusted, it'd snap, creating the perfect image of the flag but only for a single microsecond before it was wrinkled again at the wind's mercy.

So far, his two-way radio sat silent, meaning air traffic control had not picked up a single contact for the last hour and a half. He glanced at his watch, they should be arriving soon...


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The city of Baku was in a grand mood despite the rather gloomy weather. The streets had been cleaned over the last week, garbage had been cleaned up and a few buildings had been cleaned up and repainted. The hotel the diplomats would be staying at was in grand shape, her newly redone interior could rival modern western hotels and it had the most modern of equipment, including newly purchased televisions, computers, etc. The conference center had also been updated with a brand new table, using wood imported from other nations. Leather high-back chairs surrounded the table and the Soviet Azerbaijani flag covered one wall. A large television screen sat in the corner and two projectors were mounted on the ceiling.


Once again, their was a heavy military presence around the airport, ready to defend it against hostile attack. Some two hundred infantry and a handful of armor vehicles guarded the diplomatic hotel with some nearby buildings being relieved of their duties to house special forces. Air defense batteries dotted the city and its outskirts, a true 'steel wall'.

A half-dozen MiG-29s, the most advanced fighter in Azerbaijani hands, were ready to escort the Euroslavian aircraft in, if needed.

Comrade Patrick Maloney himself would be attending the Conference with Soviet Azerbaijan. He felt that this conference was of much importance.

The Comrade, along with 4 guards prepared themselves for leaving the nation. Their private jet took off from Arcadian International Airport. On the way there, the Comrade had a discussion with the other guards about exactly what was expected.

"You know, this nation is quite young, but at the same time, they've got a lot of experience with them. We definitely cannot underestimate their potential in politics."

"You're right. There's something about this leader that makes me proud to even be in a meeting with him. I have a feeling that the international 'eye' will be on him and his nation, to see what his potential is." replied the Comrade.

It took a long time to arrive close to Soviet airspace. The Comrade actually decided to take a nap on the way there. A message was delivered to Soviet Air Command that a private jet would be arriving in their airspace within a few minutes, and would need an escort.

To: Soviet Air Command

We are arriving within your territory, and require escorts to lead us to where you want us to be. We will await your reply.

One of the air traffic controllers leaned back in his task chair, resting his feet up on the small desk near the radar console... He watched the green radar screen flicker repeatedly, the smears of pale green... His eyelids were heavy and he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he began to enter a light daydream. Just then, the radio across the room crackled, it was the Euroslavian jet requesting escorts to the airport. Someone answered the call, relaying that six MiG-29s would move in and escort them to the airport.

Immediately afterward, a tone sounded and the air controller flicked open his eyelids, glancing at the long range general radar. A green smudge appeared, a nearby computer confirmed the contact. He picked up a nearby two-way radio and spoke into the mic, "Contact with Euroslavians. ETA is fifteen minutes."


The six MiG-29s were in the air in just minutes, heading towards the Euroslavian jet's position. Soon enough, the jet was on the six fighters' radars and they quickly moved in. Three of the aircraft hung far off from the jet but the other three settled in near the Euroslavian jet. The first was out in front, a few hundred feet below the jet's altitude while the two others were off to the sides, roughly a half-mile out.


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As the foreign relations minister fell into a slight nap, the two-way crackled, jolting him back into the state of awareness. He quickly glanced around, a sick feeling in his stomache as though he was under attack. As the voice erupted from the radio he sighed in relief and picked up the radio, "Acknowledged."

Apparantly, the infantrymen had also received the radio transmission as they scurried into positions to accept the landing diplomats. A dozen or so of them jogged over to the terminal and lined up in three rows of three. Two of the other three stood sentinel by the main doors while the third, a sergeant, barked orders to the the rest.

The pilot of the private jet took notice of the 6 escort MiG-29's, giving him a breath of relief. He has always had a huge fear of being attacked in foreign territory and being responsible for a leader/diplomats death. Nevertheless, that fear was gone now as Soviet Azerbaijan has guaranteed that no plane would be shot down.

Comrade Patrick Maloney looked outside the window and seen an airport, that looked quite massive for such a small nation. He was even able to see little dots scurrying around the airport. It seemed like they were preparing everything for his visit. For once, the Comrade felt like the pope, or someone really important.

"Comrade, the plane will be landing within the next 4 minutes, I'd make sure your seat is buckled tight. It's going to be a rough landing because of the storm we got caught up in, especially for a small jet like this."

The Comrade looked at his guards with a face of worry, but at the same time, they all knew that they could trust the pilot with their lives. He wouldn't lead them in the wrong way.

The plane pushed for its landing. The wheels were then released, and it began to drop altitude. There was a lot of turbulence, but that was expected from the storm. Nothing severe went wrong, and landing was almost perfect, which impressed everyone on board. All that was left was to sto pat the right place, and prepare for departure.

A single man, wearing a flourescent yellow vest and goggles with two lighted hand-beacons stood on the tarmac, waving with the beacons. He motioned the aircraft to line up with a newly-painted yellow line which lead to a sectioned off holding area where two limousines waited. Air traffic control relayed the commands via radio the aircraft as well, directing it across the expansive tarmac area.

Borisk breathed in and straightened up in his seat, adjusting his collar and his tie, making sure the small lapel pin of the Soviet Azerbaijani flag was just perfect. He watched the small jet taxi towards his position, towards the cleaned, sectioned off area where his Zhivnod limousine sat. A canopy tent covered a walkway that led from where the jet would park towards the limousine. At the end stood two Soviet Azerbaijani Government Detail soldiers, dressed in full dress uniforms with dark brown dress wool service coats, each with the red government detail insignia on the lapel. Each had a perfectly maintained, oiled, blued, and laminated AK-74 firmly attached to their chests, brown service caps with the government detail symbol in the center covered their eyes.

Off to the side stood four technicians with a manually pushed/operated stairs, awaiting for the jet to park.

The jet finally came to a stop, and on the outside, men connected the stairs up to the jet, so everyone could get out safely. Two guards walked out of the plane and down the stairs, observing everything, and making sure that the Comrade was in no harm. After about 30 seconds of looking out into the distance, the Comrade was given the signal to walk down the stairs, with two other body guards behind him, also looking around, to make sure everything was safe.

The Comrade looked around and seen the Azerbaijanian troops in full uniform. It was quite empressive to see the custom clothing that they adopted, for their troops to wear, during important events. Every nation has something different about theirs, but these...they were unlike any the Comrade had seen before.

The landscape beyond the airport looked beautiful. It was comparable to the mountains of Southern Euroslavia. Finally, the Comrade focused on why he came here, and walked over to the limos, while greeting the waiting soldiers.

As the aircraft rolled to a stop and the ladder had been put in place, both of the soldiers held their weapon's forward grips tightly with their left hands and brought their right hands up to form a rigid salute. Upon recognition, the salutes were dropped and their right hands went back to their weapons' pistol grips. This was one thing that government detail soldiers had been taught, that other national leaders and emissaries were important people and they needed to be respected as their own leaders. All government detail soldiers had followed through with this, although more often now due to the fact they were emerging from isolationism.

After watching the two guards salute, the Minister of Foreign Relations, Borisk Turvochiedivinskiy, opened the door to his limousine and stepped out, giving his suit's jacket a quick tug to make it look proffessional. He quickly strolled towards the Euroslavian delegate before coming face to face with the man, "Comrade." He shook the man's hand with enough strength that he probably could've thrown the man down had he not been prepared. He placed his left hand on the Euroslavian delegate's upper arm and spoke, "Welcome to Soviet Azerbaijan. I am the Minister of Foreign Relations, Borisk Turvochiedivinskiy. You may call me Borisk." He gave a curt nod before continuing, "And what might your name be, comrade?"

"Thank you for the welcome. From what I've seen, your nation is beautiful. My name is Patrick Maloney. You can call me Pat, or Comrade. Whichever you feel like. I'm not picky." He chuckled for a bit, then became serious again.

"That's quite a strong handshake you have there. Either you're really nervous, or you've been working out." the Comrade began to laugh again, but realized that he was probably telling too many jokes.

I hope he doesn't get a bad impression of me and my nation just because I enjoy joking around...

"So what do you have planned for us?" the Comrade asked.

"Ah... Very well, comrade." He chuckled as well. He grinned after being told of his firm handshake, "Combination of both. Its not too often a formerly isolationist government's foreign affairs minister gets to meet foreign diplomats." He stepped back and motioned towards the limousine...

"I do believe that sergeant Erisku here will give us a ride to Baku Air Force Base where an executive helicopter will take us on an overview flight of Baku before landing at the base again and taking an executive jet to another city, its all listed in a folder in there with our designations, accomadations, etcetera, etcetera. "

He waited for the Euroslavian delegate to climb into the limousine before following himself. Inside, the two were alone unless the delegate had any aides or security he'd rather have along

The interior of the limousine was very nice, however, it did show its rather old age. It didn't have the luxuries of a modern limousine but it had two leather 'sofas' which were very comfortable to sit in. Oak paneling supplemented the dark brown of the leather. The interior was dark due to the thickened, bulletproof glass and tint and it was rather hard to identify anything outside more than 15 yards away. A central console housed two phones, each on seperate frequencies, flourescent lighting as well as incadescent lighting was present. A small 'bar' was off to the side which housed a small sink with four gallons of running, drinking water, a small refrigerator, drink holders, and a small padded cabinet which held glasses or bottles. Some things had been added to make it modern including a satellite phone as well as a satellite computer hook up for up to two computers as well an exceptional sound system.