Far Tortuga
06-12-2004, 04:40
Boat engines rumbled to life, occasionally interspersed with the sound of automatic weapons fire in the distance. Muffled thuds of explosions could also be heard, with columns of smoke rising farther inland. The Colodians were coming.
Drake Mackan stood on the top deck of the Wild Goose, looking back over his home. His left hand rested on a 50 caliber machine gun recently mounted on the wood handrails, probably the first to be there since WW2. A former Coast Guard cadet scrambled up behind him, announcing that the ship was ready to go. Mackan sighed, looking over Newport one more time. “Cast off.”
The old minesweeper’s decks rumbled as the engines fired, churning up the water at the stern. Deckhands rushed along the dock casting off ropes before jumping onto the slowly-accelerating Wild Goose. Mackan went below, saluting a teenager who was scrambling up to replace him at the machine gun. As the boat sailed out of Newport Jetty he passed by rooms filled with John Wayne memorabilia, entering the dining room where his ‘generals’ waited. “Good evening gentleman. As your aware we are now under way, we have given up on the county. The captain informs me that we’ll be in Avalon in two hours, if we’re not sunk en route. How many did we get out?”
The man who was formerly in charge of the Newport Harbor shifted in his seat. “Aside from the Wild Goose, we got a fully-staffed and supplied Coast Guard cutter coming out behind us. Not exactly a warship, but at least we don’t have to install all the guns. We also have a few dozen small craft…” the man looked at one of his papers. “And two Catalina Flyers fully loaded. Altogether they’re transporting 400 of our men to Catalina and the other islands. Unfortunately sir,” the man took a deep breath. He hated delivering bad news. “We were unable to get much out of San Diego. Our men were overrun before they could get the ships underway, though a good amount of weapons have passed into Baja.”
Mackan nodded. “Well, at least some men got away, so we won’t be totally defenseless. How’d we make out on land Robert?” he asked the second man.”
“Not too badly, sir. Lost a couple hundred in rear-guard actions and desertion, but the vast majority are either crossing the Border or already south of it.” Robert was referring to rag-tag army assembled in an attempt to stop the Colodian invasion. But when faced with a two-pronged advance, the southern one alone consisting of 300,000 men, retreat and regrouping seemed much more prudent. Now the fledgling confederacy between the Southern Californian counties orchestrated by Mackan was crushed, and it’s leader escaping out to sea on an action hero’s old yacht.
*** *** *** *** ***
“They’ll hear me on this?” Mackan asked the station technician. He was in Avalon on Catalina island inside a radio building, preparing to broadcast a message to the main land. The thin man nodded eagerly, wringing his hands. “It certainly will, sir. Just try and keep it brief, we aren’t sure how long it can sustain this level of power.”
Mackan grunted, opening the door and entering the broadcasting room. Taking a seat at the console, he began as soon as the “on air” light flashed on: “Peoples of Southern California, I greet you tonight from the city of Avalon, free from Colodian tyranny. Although we fought valiantly, we were unable to hold back the imperial tide, and I am most sorrowful for it. However, I urge you not to give up hope! As you listen to this negotiations with the leaders of Baja California are coming to a successful conclusion, which will join the Channel Islands in the Southern California Republic. From this base we will hammer away at Colodian troops, never giving up hope until all of California is free of foreign tyranny! Take heart Californians, for no matter how long it takes, there will be an Independent California!”
OOC: This isn’t a de facto declaration of war Colodia, merely some rhetoric I threw in. Not that it couldn’t lead to a war, if you promise not to nuke me out of hand.
Drake Mackan stood on the top deck of the Wild Goose, looking back over his home. His left hand rested on a 50 caliber machine gun recently mounted on the wood handrails, probably the first to be there since WW2. A former Coast Guard cadet scrambled up behind him, announcing that the ship was ready to go. Mackan sighed, looking over Newport one more time. “Cast off.”
The old minesweeper’s decks rumbled as the engines fired, churning up the water at the stern. Deckhands rushed along the dock casting off ropes before jumping onto the slowly-accelerating Wild Goose. Mackan went below, saluting a teenager who was scrambling up to replace him at the machine gun. As the boat sailed out of Newport Jetty he passed by rooms filled with John Wayne memorabilia, entering the dining room where his ‘generals’ waited. “Good evening gentleman. As your aware we are now under way, we have given up on the county. The captain informs me that we’ll be in Avalon in two hours, if we’re not sunk en route. How many did we get out?”
The man who was formerly in charge of the Newport Harbor shifted in his seat. “Aside from the Wild Goose, we got a fully-staffed and supplied Coast Guard cutter coming out behind us. Not exactly a warship, but at least we don’t have to install all the guns. We also have a few dozen small craft…” the man looked at one of his papers. “And two Catalina Flyers fully loaded. Altogether they’re transporting 400 of our men to Catalina and the other islands. Unfortunately sir,” the man took a deep breath. He hated delivering bad news. “We were unable to get much out of San Diego. Our men were overrun before they could get the ships underway, though a good amount of weapons have passed into Baja.”
Mackan nodded. “Well, at least some men got away, so we won’t be totally defenseless. How’d we make out on land Robert?” he asked the second man.”
“Not too badly, sir. Lost a couple hundred in rear-guard actions and desertion, but the vast majority are either crossing the Border or already south of it.” Robert was referring to rag-tag army assembled in an attempt to stop the Colodian invasion. But when faced with a two-pronged advance, the southern one alone consisting of 300,000 men, retreat and regrouping seemed much more prudent. Now the fledgling confederacy between the Southern Californian counties orchestrated by Mackan was crushed, and it’s leader escaping out to sea on an action hero’s old yacht.
*** *** *** *** ***
“They’ll hear me on this?” Mackan asked the station technician. He was in Avalon on Catalina island inside a radio building, preparing to broadcast a message to the main land. The thin man nodded eagerly, wringing his hands. “It certainly will, sir. Just try and keep it brief, we aren’t sure how long it can sustain this level of power.”
Mackan grunted, opening the door and entering the broadcasting room. Taking a seat at the console, he began as soon as the “on air” light flashed on: “Peoples of Southern California, I greet you tonight from the city of Avalon, free from Colodian tyranny. Although we fought valiantly, we were unable to hold back the imperial tide, and I am most sorrowful for it. However, I urge you not to give up hope! As you listen to this negotiations with the leaders of Baja California are coming to a successful conclusion, which will join the Channel Islands in the Southern California Republic. From this base we will hammer away at Colodian troops, never giving up hope until all of California is free of foreign tyranny! Take heart Californians, for no matter how long it takes, there will be an Independent California!”
OOC: This isn’t a de facto declaration of war Colodia, merely some rhetoric I threw in. Not that it couldn’t lead to a war, if you promise not to nuke me out of hand.