NationStates Jolt Archive

3:45 A.M. (+10 GMT) – Raptorian west coastline, Raptorian Air and Infantry Base: “Domanzan” – The sky traffic control worker looked onto his radar, everything was in place. He glanced up at the tarmac, sipping a bit of his coffee. Way too early in the morning for him, he’d only been working for 4 hours, just making sure all the drop ships get off smoothly. He was told everything, debriefed alongside some of the pilots in the operation. Apparently, a small chunk of the Raptorian First National Army and the Air Invasion fleet was going down to Antarctica… Why? Oil, oil for money. The Raptorian government was kind of strapped for cash recently, and oil wasn’t one of the island’s natural resources, so they outsourced. This “invasion” fleet was really unnecessary, there was little foreign military activity in the tundra anyway, it would be much simpler to send a bunch of engineers to settle some outposts there, and just mine until the land’s dry as a bone.

He took yet another sip of his strong coffee as a chill ripped down his spine. The mere thought of Antarctica and the freezing cold wasn’t pleasant. The sliding chrome door popped open behind him as an air Marshall stepped in. “ ‘ey, Kavorkian? How are things from up here?” The armed man said. “Fine fine,” Kavorkian said while flipping a few switches. “We’re green across the board.”
“Excellent, how’s the fuel lay out?”
“Optimum, enough to make it down there and then some.”
“Great. And all the soldiers are prepped?”
The control worker spun around in his chair to face the Marshall. “You know that’s not my job,” Kavorkian stated, tenting his fingers. “But, from up here, they look ready.” The Marshall nodded and walked off.

Kavorkian looked down at the tarmac one last time, he saw soldiers pile into the small personnel troopships, and some into the much larger cargo planes. He tapped the intercom button. “Systems are optimal.” He fed into the microphone, which blasted his voice on the loudspeaker. “Fuel is nominal. Weapons are online. Weather is clear, visibility: 90%. Don’t freeze out there boys, good luck.” He gave the ‘thumbs up’ sign to a tarmac controller on the ground, and he then lead the first planes off into the dark night sky.

OOC: Basically, this is just an RP about colonizing the Antarctic tundra, and taking as much oil as possible back to the Raptorian Federation. This is a serious, in character RP. Basically, anyone whose nation is located (or has colonies) in Antarctica, just say so, and we’ll work something out. Thanks all, happy Role Playing!

(Feel free to TG me for questions, or post here.)

Bump.

Yet another bump.

Bump...?

Um, anyone?

Come on... Please?

OOC: I would join, but little time...for the meanwhile..bump

Charlie Thomson was in charge of a research outpost in Antarctica. He watch as a group of men drill and take out a ice sample. The outpost was located on the Ross Ice Shelf.

OOC: Finally some action... Sorry about the whining, I just never get any response for my RP's. Thanks comrades.

Bump, anyone gonna make a move on this?

OOC:I'm not much an Antartic Type of person, but it seems such a waste to see an RP like this go down the drain....And I LOVE character RP's soo....

BIC:

It was a cold, wet, night, Wolfpack Commander Fragol Lindral thought, as he piloted his submarine slowly through the southern Indian Ocean. Submarines surrounded him, forming the wolfpack that he comanded, fully. He gazed through the cold winter-like air at the icey landmass through his periscope...then stopped. Their base was nowhere in sight.

"I think we're lost." he radioed to the other submarine captains, whose groans of audible dispair were plain. Then he stopped them. "Wait!" he radioed, "I think I see something other than ice! We should check it out!" And the submarine wolfpack slowly guided itself towards the Raptorian Federation fleet....

OOC:I'm not much an Antartic Type of person, but it seems such a waste to see an RP like this go down the drain....And I LOVE character RP's soo....

OOC: Yeah, same here, I just kinda wanted to do something a bit out of the ordinary.
IC:

The first Raptorian Troop Ships landed on the ice with a slight "thunk". One soldier made a blatant remark. "FUCK it's cold out here!" A slightly more hardened soldier placed next to him sighed and said, "We are in the Antarctic after all, besides, your Environment Suit has a temperature control on it." While the two bantered away at one another, soldiers were unloading from other troop ships. A sergeant leaned over the two bickering men's shoulders and barked, "You two ladies gonna' stop your bitching and move your asses?" The two stopped mid sentence and hopped off the troopship.

The Sergeant had been in the army for 2 years, but never actually saw any combat action. (Aside from basic training.) All Raptorians are said to have been born with a certain lust for blood and war. The Sergeant, Redact, walked towards the cockpit. "How's the LZ look for the other ships?" "Fairly good," the pilot started. "Nothing but flat ice, a few bumps, but nothing we can't handl... Wait, what's this?" The Radar had a group of small, flashing, yellow blips. Redact stared at the blips, and quickly asked, "What's that?"
"I dunno, it's not Raptorian, but we don't have a track on it. It appears to be a mass of something, it's moving in this direction..."
"Could it be hostile?"
"Possibly, but I doubt it's anything more than a whale, or a group of penguins or something."
"Feh." Redact spat as he left the cockpit and stepped onto the cold, hard ground. The thought of a hostile fleet thrilled him... But he wasn't certain if his men could take that. Either way, there was some fighting to do.

OOC: Right now, there's about 30 Troopships on and around the LZ, a total of 450 troops on the ground, as well as 6 Attack Helecoptors overhead.

The HMS Beagle sailed the southern Pacific Ocean on hydrographic survey missions, charting the depths of the ocean floor for accurate submarine navigation. Commander James Bellimore enjoyed the extended missions the Royal Navy handed out. The young officer hailed from the colder northern islands of the Commonwealth and so was quite accustomed to the frigid continental air mass that blew across the decks of his ship. He had studied at the prestigious Commonwealth University, wanting to become a geographer before his funding ran dry. Until his parents spent it all. And then he joined the Royal Navy in order to secure enough money to complete his education, and when he did he joined the Royal Navy’s officer corps and they put his knowledge to work on the survey vessels of the Commonwealth.

The current mission didn’t particularly bother him that much; he at least understood the need for the mission. With the Commonwealth’s recent expansion further and further south, it was becoming more and more necessary to accurately map the soundings for the waters near the Antarctic continent. With the accompanying ship Bellvue, which was operated by the Office of Royal Navy Intelligence (ORNI), Bellimore was hoping for a successful mission to expand the Commonwealth if not secure its southern borders.

A short while ago, the Bellvue, which was supposedly a support ship – though Bellimore knew its real role as an electronic surveillance ship – had managed to collect data and telemetry on an overflight of what were apparently transport aircraft. In addition, the latest satellite intel from the Ministry of Defence showed foreign troops on the continent. Accordingly, the Beagle and Bellvue were being tasked with making contact and gathering intelligence on these foreigners. Any base on the continent, given its potential for untapped resources, was to be considered potentially hostile to the national security of the Commonwealth.

Bellimore turned to his navigation officer, “Lieutenant, make course for Antarctica, we’ve got some surveying to do.”

OOC: Bump, and Azazia, I'll make a post pertaining to your forces when they come closer to my position, same goes for Yafor 2.

OOC:Ok. Troops Numbers: 24 submarines(a wolfpack) and 3 AA Cruisers(to guide the wolfpack to the base)

BIC:

Wolfpack Commander Fragol Lindral gazed out of his periscope again, fear clouding his finely tuned senses. He was trapped now, with these strange ships near him. What was he to do? His other Submarine Commanders looked to him for guidance, but.....

He had to radio these ships, it was his only hope. If he could make communications, there was the chance for diplomacy, always a welcome idea. And, of course, with someone with Wolfpack Commander Lindral's skill at diplomacy, he could wrap these people up and serve them on a pleter, or so he hoped.

Slowly he pressed a button, a bright red dot on his panel. His hand hovered above it for second, while he debated his decision once more, but it descended. Fear clamped his heart as he decided what to do. Then the button raored to life.

"Yaofrite Wolfpack #4 to Unknown Flotilla, do you read me?"

Redact and the pilot jumped at the sound of another voice...

Yaofrite Wolfpack #4 to Unknown Flotilla, do you read me?

The two men looked at eachother and then pressed the COM button.

"Yes, we copy. This is Raptorian Troopship #341, state the nature of your business." the pilot tried to speak as calmly as he could.

Bellimore glanced around the tight and cramped bridge. The men and women on board were all young, more scientists than warriors, but that made sense for a science ship. And yet, the presence of foreign cruisers and troops – not to mention the possibility of submarines, satellites were occasionally picking up small disturbances that could be explained as subs. The further south the Beagle traveled, the more he didn’t like the situation.

He had already changed the bridge lights to red, preparing the two ships under his command for his immediate combat. Laughable combat admittedly, with only two twenty-millimeter guns at his disposable. Well that and the small arms locker. But the Royal Navy never surrendered.

Unless they were geographers.

Bellimore glanced again around the bridge. He caught the communications officer looking at him, “Lieutenant, what is it?”

“It’s the Bellvue, sir. They’ve picked up a communication from a wolfpack flotilla. They’re apparently attempting to communicate some unknown flotilla. They’ve also picked up transmissions from the foreign troops, identifying themselves as troopships. Captain Rickson reports the two parties as belonging to the states of Yafor and the Raptorian Federation.”

Bellimore sighed. That confirmed MoD’s suspicions of sub activity. “Alright, Velmore… send out on open frequencies a communication to all parties in the area.”

Velmore pushed a few buttons, threw some switches, and clicked enter on his computer. “Go ahead, Commander.”

Bellimore picked up his small radio, and depressed the transmit switch. “To all forces operating in the immediate vicinity. This is His Majesty’s Ship Beagle, hailing from the Commonwealth of Azazia, and His Majesty’s Ship Bellvue. We are sailing in international waters conducting hydrographic and sounding research for the waters off the Antarctic continent.” He switched off the transmit key, “Velmore, get word to HQ, request at least a bloody frigate out this way. I don’t like where this could be going.”

HMS Audacious
Southern Indian Ocean

Commander Franklin Pierce studied the satellite imagery he had received, it showed two survey vessels stuck around a whole slew of foreign military forces. And although there were no reported hostile activities so far, the Ministry had ordered the Audacious detached from the Victory battle group to make full speed to the two ships. It would take two or three days, so he hoped that if shots were fired, they’d wait long enough for his frigate to get there.

Wolfpack Commander Fragol Lindral grinned wickedly; he was the one who was supposed to be here.

"We are passing to our colonies. Please leave, as you are in the nieghboring vicinity. Take your expedition elsewhere, for this will be no berth." he radioed.

"Hm, sounds hostile." Redact said. "Let's not jump the gun here..." The pilot quivered as he hit the COM button. "We were unaware that these are under foreign control, these territories were not marked prior to our departure, and we refuse to relocate." He released the COM button and just sighed, "Oh fuckit..." He entered a new COM Code, and pressed the button once more. "HQ, this is Raptorian Troopship #341, do you read?"
"Yes, we read. Continue."
"We're being approached by hostile subs, we request aerial and naval support ASAP."
"Will do, hang tight guys."
As he released the COM button once more, he nodded towards Redact, who quickly ran out to the temporary camp.

"Men, grab your guns, and get the shelters up pronto, we've got foes in the waters." His soldiers scattered to erect tents and bonfires.

Wolfpack Commander Fragol Lindral realized what he had done and replied.

"Let's not be too hasty here...you may legally gain the territory with a little money involved..."

OOC:I'm ok with a battle, just not an all-out war.

Damnit, Bellimore cursed to himself. “Damnit, Velmore. Encrypted channel to the Bellvue, now!”

Bellimore waited while his communications officer connected the two ships in a direct line of sight heavily encrypted channel. The advantages of highly sophisticated ELINT vessels… Bellimore sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Captain Rickson, it’s James. I’m sure you monitored that last transmission.”

“Indeed. I’d recommend staying put. Until they prove to us that we are within their territorial waters. Being in ‘neighbouring vicinity’ is a bullshit excuse to shoot two unarmed science vessels. Do that and they’ll piss of a whole lot of maritime-based free-seas nations. They probably think, and rightly so, that you are a simpleton onboard a backwater nation’s survey vessel. That and we’re not attempting to berth.”

Bellimore fumed, he knew that Rickson was the superior officer, and so could tell him he was a mere simpleton – but hell, he was also a member of the Royal Navy. And the bloody commander of this ship. “Alright, well I sent out a request to HQ for some backup, they’ve dispatched the Audacious and its on its way, ETA is about two days. Standby, I’m about to reply.” Bellimore switched off that communications device and switched on the open frequency communications to the Yaforite submarines.

“Yaforite commander, the Royal Navy is not impeding your transit to your colonies. Furthermore, being in international waters we are not required to take our expedition elsewhere. We are conducting scientific research of the underwater sea mounts and will not leave until our work is complete.” Bellimore switched off the transmit key and turned to face his bridge crew.

“Now we see if these Yaforites are civilised peoples or barbaric savages. Will they shoot unarmed vessels?” There was no reason for Bellimore to voice his concerns to his crew, but they were all in this together, scared no doubt, but together.

Wolfpack Commander Fragol Lindral grit his teeth. If he had his way, he would have shot them but...

"You may stay. Or at least, for a while."

This was not going well, Wolfpack Commander Fragol Lindral reflected again. He hadn't done anything right, in and sort of way, and he knew he was going to pay. There was one way out.

Silently, the 24 submarines and 3 AA Cruisers, slipped away into the gathering darkness, towards the colony of Yafor 2.

OOC:I'm ok with a battle, just not an all-out war.
OOC: Same.
IC:
The Pilot sighed, he didn't want to spill blood, but he knew the Raptorians never negotiate when it came to money. "We refuse to take monitary negotiations."

All of a sudden, 2 more blips appeared on the radar... Unarmed Vessles, hostility unknown. "Oh shit, here we go again..." "Attention unknown vessles, identify yourselves."

OOC:I left. You could track me to my colony, which would be a cool RP, but do that in a bit.

OOC:I left. You could track me to my colony, which would be a cool RP, but do that in a bit.
OOC: Okay, I'll hold off on that for now.

“What the bloody hell is going on, goddamnit!”

“Commander?”

Bellimore sighed, more hostile threats to deal with. This was supposed to be a simple 60 day deployment, not a twenty day deployment cut short by a firefight. “Velmore, is it just me or are all these bloody idiots with guns becoming a royal pain in our arse?”

“Aye, sir. I say we just blow ‘em all to ‘ell with our massive guns.”

At that Bellimore had to laugh for a few seconds, Velmore was able to make him laugh – if nothing else. “Alright then, comrade. Make ready the open frequency communications. Once again, since the bloody fools couldn’t hear us the first time.” Bellimore watched Velmore nod, and then pressed the transmit key. “Raptorian vessels, this is His Majesty’s Ships Beagle and Bellvue performing scientific research on the continental shelves and ocean deeps of the Antarctic continent, as well as atmospheric research for the maritime boundaries of the continent.” Bellimore toggled off the transmit key and sat down in his small command chair. He glanced over at the chief on duty, “Chief, I need some tea.”

"I copy. You're unarmed, correct?"

Bellimore once again turned on the transmit key, “The Beagle and the Bellvue are both armed with one twenty-millimeter gun for self-defence. Given the nature of your deployed forces, I am sure you will find we are not a significant threat to your operation. However, I do warn you that any attempt to fire upon His Majesty’s Ships will be considered an act of war. Normally I’d not be so hostile, but this region seems to be increasingly hostile in nature.”

The pilot smiled. "Don't worry comrade, we won't fire unless you do, or if you interfere with our operations in the area. If you need any thing, you may stop by our camp, you sound like a well rounded fellow."

James Bellimore didn’t like to be questioned, especially in front of his men and women and so when Rickson had said on an open channel that he was a simpleton, it wasn’t too well appreciated. Consequently, he had taken the small port side launch over to Rickson’s boat, which looked like a medium tonnage freighter and climbed onboard in order to speak in person with the captain.

The Bellvue was one of the many intelligence gathering ships operated by the Royal Navy. She drifted around the world’s oceans listening to international chatter, observing war games, finding what bands of the EM spectrum that foreign navies operated on. She was designed to give the Commonwealth Royal Navy a decisive advantage when it came to open warfare. In addition, she carried extensive electronic warfare equipment, including large high powered jammers that would flood the EM spectrum with noise preventing their use. And so she accompanied the Beagle on this mission to accumulate data on forces that might operate down this far south.

Of course Commander Bellimore knew all this as mission commander, although if it weren’t for this mission he would have known the Bellvue as merely an accompanying stores ship, for she did indeed carry enough stores to extend the mission to the full 60 days. But all that equipment made the ship cramped, and Bellimore found this out firsthand when he came onboard, the compartments were crammed with computers and boxes of non-perishables. One of the cargo holds was refrigerated and carried meats and fruits for the crews of the two vessels.

When he found Rickson, he remained unimpressed with the short, dark-haired officer. Despite the fact that Rickson was obviously reviewing some piece of data, Bellimore spoke up, “Captain, I believe we need a word.”

Rickson eyes shot a harsh glare at the young commander. The fool didn’t know who or what he was messing with. They had stumbled into some sort of hostile zone, and here he was pissing himself over some triviality. Unfortunately, the mission required him to cede his authority of rank to Bellimore since Bellimore was technically a line officer, unlike himself, a mere staff officer from the ORNI. “What do you want, commander?” he said with just enough emphasis to be borderline insubordinate.

“I think we should do this in private.”

“My cabin then. XO, you have the bridge.” Rickson led Bellimore through the tight corridors aft of the bridge. They clambered down a stairwell before Rickson spoke, “And what is this all about?”

“It’s about,” Bellimore responded as they turned a corner into a more spacious corridor for the ship’s officers, “the disrespect you showed me in the middle of that confrontation. I may not be your direct superior, but I am in command of this mission. And I will not have you challenging my orders, or my character, in volatile situations. My crew depends on me being the absolute ruler, and they need to see that absoluteness in my orders or they will falter. And if they falter, we all die.”

Rickson opened the door to his cabin and gestured for Bellimore to enter, “Commander, you are merely that a commander. On a bloody hydrographic survey vessel. You don’t even command a goddamn patrol boat. Just a survey ship. I on the other hand, have been in command of two frigates in my service life, and the XO on a destroyer. Have you ever seen combat?” To which Bellimore shook his head, “That’s what I thought, Commander. I have. It’s not pretty, but in combat you need combat-capable officers. You are not, I am. It’s that simple. Now, this mission is to conduct a survey of the damn sea mounts, is it not?”

Why… why yes.” Bellimore stammered, becoming acutely aware that Rickson was the one actually in charge of not only this situation, but the mission.

“Well, I have my own orders, to conduct intelligence gathering operations on foreign vessels and forces when possible. Now, we got some useful information from that Yaforite wolfpack, and some from those Raptorian folks, but now we have the opportunity to do more. What I would suggest, Commander, is that you take up that offer of stopping over and allow me to do my job, and gain some intelligence of the Raptorians. Is that clear?”

Bellimore nodded.

“Good, now you are going to return to the Beagle and request that these two ships stop by for… make some shit up about exchanging climatic data or whatever the hell it is you do on that boat of yours. In the meantime, we will simply collect and record their EM emissions and then analyze them for the betterment of the Commonwealth’s national security. Is that clear?”

Again, Bellimore nodded.

“Then let’s get you back to your ship.”

HMS Beagle

Commander Bellimore toggled on the transmit key, “Raptorian troopship, this is HMS Beagle, perhaps you would allow us to stop on over so we could exchange climatic data and enjoy a nice communal meal. I’m sure we have data that you will find useful since we’ve been out here for weeks, and I’m sure you have more concise data on the weather and climate of the actual continent itself. That and I’m personally dying to have a nice warm meal outside of this cramped mess hall. So what say you?”

The pilot, relaxed, was accually suprised by this offer, he didn't expect them to take it up. He tapped the COM button. "Why sure, stop on by. Sorry to say though, we havn't set up a full encampment, so it won't be 100% luxury, but we do have a lot of food ready." He released the COM button. and turned on the drop ship's loudspeaker, "Attention all Raptorian troops, we're having some guests over for dinner. Be on your best behavior, and keep your guns ready, we don't know if we can trust these foriegners." The soldiers outside began to hurry creating camp.

The HMS Beagle was in and of itself, not a terribly impressive vessel. She measured a mere 92 meters in length, and although she sported a lean, clean shape, certainly stealthy in some aspects, she had only a bow mounted rapid fire gun, which was rather light in construction and yet would have appeared better suited on a patrol craft. The extended forecastle maintained simple hatches, which sealed the compartments for the various sensors and pieces of delicate equipment that measured the depth, contours, and even water and soil content of the ocean bottoms. The angled superstructure was quite short, and the most forward section sported a tall pyramidal structure, which housed all the complex antennae. Further aft were a collection of more antennae and domes and open ended domes which were left open to the atmosphere, in order to better collect data on the atmosphere. Short aft section sported two large cranes and launches, and in a center well several submersible probes that were designed to operate at extreme depths and collect information on the consistency of the ocean bottom. And of course, from the main pyramid mast flew the flag and naval ensign of the Commonwealth.

Normally, Bellimore would have ordered the off-duty crew to stand at attention on the deck, as if arriving in a foreign port, however, the sub-zero temperatures made him reconsider that traditional sign of respect. From the enclosed bridge, he glanced over at the far more bulky and squared profile of the Bellvue. Of course she had been designed as a cargo vessel, which need not be stealthy or ready for combat in His Majesty’s Royal Navy, but nonetheless, it too bore the same model of gun on its forecastle and flew the same flag from its mast.

Generally, Bellimore preferred the tropical port cities, where he came in and stepped off into a lush tropical environment where everything was relax and chill. Unfortunately, this new port of call was the ultimate in chill, it was more freezing than anything else. However, the Commonwealth had the ability to now make friends with a nation that was potentially tapping resources it too wanted. Of course the whole diplomacy thing was way out of his league, typically it was only commodores on up that received diplomatic training, and he was a mere commander. But if the time arose, he would make known the Commonwealth’s views on Antarctica. But that was getting ahead of himself. For now he merely needed to fret the Beagle managing itself through the ice-laden waters without poking a giant hole through the hull.

The tiny Emirate of Alexonium had no interest in the region, but had economic interests in the Antarctic Territories. A small plane bearing the distinctive crescent and star, along with a cannabis insignia flew by, surveying the area. It did not take any interest in the below activities, but did listen in for the heck of it.

Corporal Dashimair Kozovian walked out of what looked like a larger, and certainly warmer tent in a large wool coat complete with a hood. Even though this meeting was a sign of diplomacy, he still wore his Berretta inside of his breast holster. He walked towards the ship and stood waiting for the Commander to disembark.

(Inside a Survelence Tent)

"Sir," A private started. "Yes?" Redact asked as he walked over to the skinny man operating the radar equiptment. "We've just picked up a signal of an aircraft overhead. Shall I hail it?"
"No, wait for them to say something, and if they come near us again, we warn them, third time, we blow them out of the sky."

HMS Bellvue

“Captain, something on long-range air search,” blared the speaker.

Rickson walked over to the LCD, where he tapped the few buttons necessary for him to see what the radar operator saw in the other room. Indeed, a small single aircraft of unknown origin was approaching the Azazian and Raptorian dinner. “Reset targeting data for new aircraft, designate India-33. I want everything we can on that plane. RCS, EM, thermal, hell I want audio during the overflight.”

The exterior of the ship changed little as the ship continued in towards the Raptorian forces, the only thing visible – though only to the trained eye – was the redirection of several small antenna arrays in the direction of the aircraft. Shortly after the plane flew over, the Bellvue had recorded everything they possibly could about that aircraft.

The pilot, one Alrek Erikson, was in a bit of a silly mood. He transmitted over both parties' frequencies: "Hehe, you look like ants!" and proceeded on his surveillance mission of the nearby area. He did not shut off the transmission, and proceeded to play a few of his Bob Marley CDs. :p

HMS Bellvue

Rickson stared at his communications officer, “He said what?”

“That we look like… well, ants, sir. Then he proceeded to put on some sort of music, I don’t know what it is. It seems, to be frank, sir… well… rather shoddy work by a surveillance aircraft.”

“I agree, comrade. Hell, if we had missiles onboard I’d love to be able to let them see we had them targeted. They certainly aren’t Commonwealth material. That’s for damn sure.”

OOC: I'm out for the night, see ya'll tomorrow.

Alrek was still flying around, surveying the material, playing Bob Marley, and of course cracking dirty jokes over multiple frequencies.

The Alexonium Air Force is pretty laid back, but takes care of business enough as far as the Emir is concerned.

"I'm pulling down to stretch my legs...over!"

The plane did an abrupt but skillful landing about 200 meters from the Bellvue so that Alrek might not wind up with a cramp.

Bump.

Bump?

**well, are you going to do anything???*

OOC: Well, I'm waiting for you to approch, I dunno.

Alrek got outside his plane and walked around a bit, taking a look at the surroundings. It was only his third flight, but he already handled the thing like it was a guinea pig.

"Cold enough" he said as he adjusted his parka. "Good thing I'm wearing my own underneath; it's as if the air force can't afford to give me a decent one."

A private ran up to Redact. "Sir, our scouts have seen an individual exit the aircraft in question."
"Well? Elaborate."
"We don't know much more, he doesn't look like too much of a threat, should I send a squad out to make contact?"
"No, we wait for him to come to us."
"Yessir." And with that, the private ran back to his squad, bragging about his girl back home.

Alrek knew he had at least another hour or two until he had to go back to base, and since he wasn't so fond of his commander he certainly enjoyed getting away. His tour ends in 2 days, and he knew it would take longer than that to find out that he was stalling.

He took out a lawn chair he had stashed away, set it up in the snow, sat back, and relaxed while observing the penguins.

Bumpzor.

[[I'm not attacking...are you?]]

OOC: No, you havn't intruded on our land yet, so there's no point in a fight.

[[Well, I'm not starting a freakin' war]]

Alrek kept minding his own business while playing Bob Marley on the radio.

He got a message over one of his officer's frequencies: "Have you gotten the info regarding the military activity?"

"Yes...if you have the coordinates to the copter, the Raptorians are about 200 meters from here, and the boat is nearby...about 1-2 kilometers. Anything else?"

"Nope...what song is that playing in the background by the way?"

"'Get up, stand up' by Bob Marley"

"Good taste in music. Odinsdatter out."

HMS Beagle

Commander James Bellimore rummaged through his cramped closet and dug out his heavy parka, which he placed over his thick, black, woolen overcoat. With the possibility of an onset of frostbite, he was taking every possible precaution. Losing the ability to command his vessel was not among his top list of things to do on this cruise.

Rickson had informed him of the meddlesome fly-over by some as of yet unidentified aircraft. Apparently, the Bellvue had been busy translating unencrypted communications, and the UFO was apparently here to measure what they were considering “military activity”. Both he and Rickson had concluded that both the Raptorians and the two Commonwealth vessels could be in danger, and he had every intention of bringing this up with the Raptorian commander. But for now he merely proceeded out to the enclosed walkway which extended from the starboard hull of the vessel.

Bellimore pulled out a pair of sunglasses to keep down the glare from the bright sun on the highly reflective surfaces, and looked towards the actual dock and found the Raptorian base. A glance behind him showed that he was indeed alone on this mission of first contact, and he certainly hoped it would go well. If not, Rickson gained control of the two vessels.

The Corporal observed the man as he left the walkway onto dry (but cold) land. Armed Raptorian troops surrounded the walkway with their safties off, they were on full alert, never could be too safe. Kozovian heartly shook Bellimore's while giving the almost too friendly greeting, "Hello! Welcome comrade!" As he lead them too what looked like the Corporal's tent. "It's not much, but it's home." The Corporal doned as he and Bellimore entered the makeshift command center. (Still followed by troops, but they did not enter alongside their officer, they merely stood guard outside of the tent.)

"I suppose you have much to talk about, so please, let us continue..."

OOC: Just as a note, I've got a Carrier, 2 Frigates, and 1 Destroyer out in the ocean, the Carrier is withen striking distance of the camp and surrounding area... Just in case. I just wanted to mention this if things get ugly, so no one would scream, "OMFG! GODMOD!"

Alrek got another radio, this time wanting him to stay where he is and establish a small base for the time being. If anyone asks, he is to say his machine is broken, but not to accept a ride at all costs. He wanted to sit around anyway, so he just decided to lay down on the lawn chair, and let the radio wake him up should he receive further orders.

Raptorian Command Center

“Believe me, I know all about not having much. As I’m sure you can see, I command a mere survey vessel – while it’s true we have more spacious accommodations than most, it’s still a warship, at least by its employers mind.” Bellimore glanced about the command center, taking in all the sights of a foreign power – he really had not seen much of foreign militaries, or countries, outside of his random ports of call.

“But, straight to the business I see. Indeed, I’m sure you’re aware of that reconnaissance plane that landed… well not far from here, I don’t know exactly the distance, but I of course am merely wondering what their intentions are; for being at the end of the world it might take a good while for people to notice we’re missing.” Bellimore smiled, trying to lighten the mood, which he had realized from all the armed men was quite tense.

“Anyways, I thought you should know why we are down here just so nobody goes trigger happy and a whole boat load of bad things go down.” Bellimore walked around the room a little bit, trying to calm himself down. Despite all the protocol about naval vessel commanding officers being able to conduct limited diplomatic contact… he was a damn geographer!

“The Commonwealth of Azazia, like most nations, has begun to realize the crunch of limited oil resources around the globe and is attempting to… shall we say procure, fields and territories where the government will be able to collect the necessary natural resources. It’s for that reason my two ships have been dispatched, a surveying mission for the potential sea lanes that would give our tankers and freighters access to relatively stable harbours around the continent.

“I bring this up because I like to think that two nations can come to peaceful solutions about their differences, and well… my government has made known its intention to conduct resource exploitation on this continent. For that reason, I feel it might be a good idea to start talking about potential ways to alleviate any future… disagreements about land and fields and who owns what. I just don’t want to have to come back here someday to find our two nations leaving hundreds of young men behind to have their corpses freeze.

ooc: I have one FFG en route, and then in the SE Indian Ocean I have one light carrier, 4 DDGs, and 3 more FFGs... in the central Indian Ocean I have 1 assault ship, 4 CGNs, 4 DDGs, 4 FFGs, 2 SSNs, and 2 SSGNs... me too, just kinda putting that out there ahead of time

About an hour passed, and Alrek was awaken by three loud beeps.

"A message from the Emirate of Alexonium" it blared
"Embargoes have been levied against us because of our enlightened beleifs and due to jealousy and ignorant outrage at the freedoms we afford the people of our land! We also wish to announce the election results:

Sumoi Alliance: 6%
Labour: 13%
Socialist: 31%
Workers' Alliance: 23%
Liberal: 21%
Union of Merchants: 16%
All precincts reporting.

Even though many nations seek to cripple us by denying us their goods, the Emir says that anything they can make we could make too.

End transmission."
Three more beeps were broadcasted, and finally the radio was silent. Alrek was also getting a bit cold despite the fact that he seemed to have more goose down on his person than all the geese in Europe. He decided to set up shop in the back of the helicopter with a heater, though it was notorious for going through fuel.

"Yes, we realize there is a UFO out there. We payed no heed to it, it's a single person, probably on a land survey mission. We won't bother him if he doesn't bother us." The Corporal started. "Now, yes, on to land. The Raptorian Federation really doesn't look to expand its borders, it just need the extra reasources. And I can safely say, on behalf of my nation, we're not looking for any kind of military conflict here." He glanced toward the door. "And sorry about my troops... Better safe than sorry, eh?" The Corporal stood up.

"Now, if you wish, I can patch you through to HQ to discuss land ownership. Shall we?"

While Alrek was sleeping in the small compartment, squished inbetween supplies and such, the radio fell down and went to another frequency, this time a training program used for war-games that are going on off the coast of Alexonium. "ATTACK! ATTACK NOW!" It blared.

He replied on the radio: "SIR! THAT WOULD AMOUNT TO A DECLARATION OF WAR!"

The sergant replied on the radio: "YOU DUMBASS, WE'RE ALREADY /AT/ WAR WITH THEM!"

Alrek then replied: "Good enough for me; Ericson out." He got out, wondering how in the hell he would be able to attack an entire fleet being grossly outnumbered.

(Survelance Tent)
Another private was moitoring radio chatter, when he picked up the War-Game signal. "...Sir?" Redact walked over. "What is it?"
"We've just intercepted a signal..."
"Well?"
"It appears the UFO is hostile, and they're attacking... Something."
The Sergeant stood is shock for a second, while finally asking, "How bad is it?"
"I dunno sir," The private started. "He sounded frantic, but scouts indicate there isn't any gunfire or armor in the area."
"Understood, send 5 Moto Scouts out, fully armed. I want to see what's going on..."
"Shall I alert the Corporal?"
"No, wait until shots are fired, best not alert the other Commander..."
"Yessir."
And with that, the scouts were silently informed of their mission, they hoped on their bikes, and raced out to meet this hostile.

OOC: Moto Scouts are basically just troops in 3 wheeled motocycles. Here's a Picture. (Armored and Unarmored, it's the Middle one.) (http://www.christianpiccolo.com/assets/images/onemanvehclr.jpg)

Alrek saw the biked patrols, and knew it would be impossible to win against them being that he was outnumbered. In a situation like this, he decided it would be best to surrender.
"ALREK ERIKSON OF ALEXONIUM, PILOT, #319. I SURRENDER, AND REQUEST THE PROVISIONS AFFORDED TO PRISONERS OF WAR UNDER THE GENEVA CONVENTIONS." he yelled with his hands in the air.

Meanwhile back in headquarters:
"No word from Erikson, Lieutenant."
"The radio probably broke, corporal. Don't worry."

One private slowed in front of the plane, and stood up, with his rifle pointed at him. There was no expression on the exterior, (Raptorian Soldiers where full NBC masks, and their whole bodies are hidden beneath armor.) but under his helmet, he smiled. "We don't abide by the Geneva Convention." He lowered his rifle and clicked on the safety. "Don't worry men, he's harmless." The other men unmounted their bikes and walked up to the man. The same Private, Private Yevon Helman, spoke again, "We won't harm you comrade, and we won't take anything from your plane here, but naturally... We will have to search it, and if dangerous materials are found, we will detain and you and your cargo... Do you have anything to confess?"

"I...I...I only signed up for 1...month to see what it was like, and I needed the money to pay off debt! There is nothing dangerous in there as far as I know, so don't worry about it. But I don't know why my orders changed from reconoisance to battle all the sudden especially when all I have is the rifle inside the copter, second compartment to the left by the way..." Alrek spurt out. Finally, the shock caught up to him, and he passed out. That or the emergency heater had a bit too much carbon monoxide for its own good.

Helman looked down at body, "Medic." He said fairly calmly, it wasn't really that much of a shock, the Raptorian look was a little intimidating. Two soldiers walked out. "Nothing, the rifle is unloaded, there's a clip or two for it, no threat." Helman looked at him again and lifed his limp body into the cockpit chair. Alright men, move out. As they were all walking out, Helman looked back and said, "Heh, sorry comrade." And walked off.

[[he may have been more scared about what would happen to him if he was not under the protection of the Geneva Conventions...]]

The sergant, meanwhile, was listening on the other end, couldn't beleive what he was hearing, and after checking in with his subordinantes concluded that since Alexonium abides by the Geneva convention, though not an member of the UN, there was a change of frequency involved, and that he was really talking to a pilot assigned to recon. He cursed the loudest blue streak ever herad in the base, amusingly enough forgetting to turn off the radio while doing so. He then knew what had to be done: to avoid international incident, he had to get on the phone with the Emir at once.

"Heh-loo Whoo ees thees?" The Emir asked the sergant.
"Sergent Farouk-Aziz, 2nd division. We have a bit of an incident on our hands...it seems like we accidently told a pilot assigned to Recon in an area with Raptorian forces to open fire..."
"WHOT THEE HELL?! IF WEE GOH TO WAR OHVER THEES, I WEEL HAHVE YOU CLEANEENG LAHVOOREETOREES!"
"Yessir...I also heard that he suddenly stopped talking and that there was a bunch of scuffling. We must act quickly to avoid international incident!"
"Way ahehd, I ahm cooling the ambaaseedor."

The Emir placed an emergency call to the Raptorians, knowing that time was of the essence.

Alrek, meanwhile, was only kept alive due to the fact that he hardly missed a meal and that he was well insulated, as his body was not producing any body heat worth anything, and he was hardly breathing. Many attemps were made to contact him through the radio, which was in the back of the helicopter and thus not easy to hear.

OOC: Are you calling my Antartic base? Or Raptorian Ice Claw Operations HQ?

HQ; the Emir probably doesn't have internal numbers or frequencies available.

OOC: Okay.
IC:

The COM beeped a few times, back about 3 miles from the air base where this all started. The Commander pressed down the COM button, "Yesss?" He answered in a dark and brooding voice.

"Thees ees the Emir of Alexonium; I hahf been alerted to an eenceedehnt thaht mei ahmont to an accideentahl aakt of war. I moost speak to head of comahnd eemeedeeahtelee." Before becoming Emir of Alexonium, he was Dutch, thus explaining the accent.

"This is the head. Speak the nature of your call, elaborate on this 'act of war'."

"Well..." The Emir softened his tone but didn't change the accent: "a recon pilot from what our transmissions indicate was not 200 meters from some of your forces in Antarctica, and got a message to attack. This transmission was intended for the war games that are going on off the northern coast, and was put by accidnet on the pilot's frequency. We heard that he surrendered, but only heard a bunch of scuffling. This may have set off something, and don't know if you have launched any forces to Alexonium as a response to any preceived threat. All I know is that the pilot does not deserve anything bad as a result of this mix-up, and we request that you keep an eye on him until we ensure his safe return to Alexonium."

****
BUMP
****
:mp5:

Raptorian Command

Bellimore walked over with the colonel to the machines that would whisk his words to the government of the Raptorian Federation. Sometimes it still surprised him that a little, fragile creature such as man could build something similarly tiny, and then use it to communicate with some thousands of kilometers away. He finally looked over at the colonel, “Although you know, I am merely a commander, I’m sure that later on they should be talking to an actual diplomat.”

HMS Bellvue

The radio-intercepts provided Rickson with all the information he needed to know. In Alexonium either someone had been ready to – and practically did – declare war on a foreign state, which was itself a rather ludicrous concept; or the idiot who was flying that bloody plane was such the idiot that he regarded those bombing/missile targets and their firing codes as fact without any sort of verification. All in all, Rickson was becoming more convinced of the apparent rampant militarism of Alexonium – that or their blind stupidity… he was sure of neither one being greater than the other right then.

Raptorian Ice Claw Operations HQ

"Yes, I see... From what my scouts indicate, all they did was search the plane for any dangerous items, and all they found was a simple rifle and some ammo. Now, as far as I know, they did not poorly treat the pilot in any way, and I will send the troops back to his location to keep an eye on him, if that's what you want?" There was a pause, and a few low-pitched beeps. "Hold on, I've got another call coming through..." He depressed the 2nd COM button. "Da?"
"Sir, it's Corporal Dashimair Kozovian, head of ground ops in Ice Claw."
"Ah, yes, greetings, what do you need?"
"Not as much as need sir. I've got a Commander from Azazia here. He insists that he needs a diplomat, but you may talk to him if you wish."
"I do, put him on, and have him give me the COM Frequency to an Azazian Diplomat."
"Will do sir."

The Emir waited to be put back on the line, and when returning from on hold, said. "That will work...I'll do what I can to calm the situation down, apparently one of my officers went public about this incident. I've contracted a nearby merchant ship to pick up Alrek and the aircraft within 72 hours. Trouble is...we have reports of a storm ariving within 36 hours."

He clicked the other COM button. "Understood, contact me for further information. Raptoria out." He turned off that channel and waited to speak to the commander.

Alrek, about 1 hour after he went out-cold, was still unconcious. His face was beginning to get cold, but the rest of him was ok with the exception of his right leg which was twisted when he hit the ground. The wind, meanwhile, was picking up...

The same soldier as before knocked on the plane hatch. "Anyone in there?" He knocked again, nothing. He swung open the door with his rifle pointed inward, and he saw him where he had left him; on the chair. "You alright comrade?" No answer. As he walked up, he noticed he was still out cold. "We need a medic here..." He grabbed some medical supplies handed off to him, but really only used a heat pad on his arm. The heat pads basically were like nicotine patches for heat, they let a warm sensastion enter the applied area, and then spread through the body.

They just walked to the exit and guarded the ship until further orders.

Charlie Thomson got a sudden gift. While doing a regular ice collection, oil spayed out of the hole. He radioed for the protection team, the 4th Recon Regiment of the Republic Army. They arrived and waited for the icebreaker Alexander Romanov to arrive with oiling supplies.

Alrek was beginning to come around after another hour, and woke up. He recognized this was his helicopter, but was still a bit woozy in the head, so he didn't bother piloting it. The wind was still picking up, and the helicopter wasn't exactly the sturdiest thing on earth. He tried getting up so that he could go to the better-insulated back of helicopter, but when he tried getting up, his leg acted up. It was all he could do not to yell out in pain and he sat back down knowing he probably wouldn't be able to get back there in one piece.

Raptorian Survelence Tent

"Sirs?" The same private as always iquires.
"What is it?" Redact and the Corporal ask in unicin as Redact walks over to a screen with a large red and orange blob is pulsing. "It's an oil spike..." The private answers. "A large one, on the Ross Ice Shelf."
"Alright, I want drones out there, NOW!"
"Yessir." He tapped in to the Carrier off the coast and calls a survelance run.

Outside the Helicoptor
The soldiers rush in at the sound of the scream. They help him up and carry him to the nearest bed.

Alrek, though not knowing where he was going, knew that there was nothing he could do about the situation even though he was a bit scared. He knew that there were no weapons in the copter save the rifle, so he knew that they knew he was not a threat.

T3h Ub3r BUMP!

The Colonel in charge of the protection sees the UAVs flying, Charlie sees them too. "Great, now the idoits are going to come." he said to himself.

On the Raptorian Aircraft Carrier: "Rod of Power", Control Center

The younger man sat at the computer console, blips, whirrs, beeps, and clicks surrounded him. Directly in front of him were 2 screens, one RADAR, and one was live feed from the UAV's. The Radar picked up many small blips, and the live feed showed movement on the ground, along with buildings. "Sir, ground conformation. We've got them located." The young sailor said. "Good good..." A slightly older man said, while looking at his maps. "Coordinates?"
"North 32, South 5."
"Alright, keep the scouts overhead, we'll watch them for a while."
"Aye Captain."

Bum ba da dum bum bum bum BA BUMP!

Oi vey bump.

The Emir again tried to reach the Raptorian head of command: "Hello, it's the Emir. Any word yet on the status of the pilot? I need to teach those dramatizing bastards in the media a lesson by going on the air and giving an account of what /really/ happened, and I need some word from you on the status of the pilot."

"Troops radioed in, he's still alive, out cold, but alive."

"Sounds good; see what you guys can do to bring him around. The cargo vessel is on its way. The coast guard is sparse enough, we couldn't spare a ship."

Meanwhile, Alrek was coming around. The nearest bed was inside a tent on the Raptorian base, where he awoke. His leg still hurt, but he wasn't complaining. He just laid down and tried going back to sleep.

The Alexander Romanov arrives with the oil drilling supplies and a entire drilling crew. The men start buliding the drilling station.

As he moaned a few times with the slight pain, he opened his eyes to be staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. "Don't move comrade." Redact said morbidly. "Sorry, standard procedure." A man dressed in a Medic's Armor walked over and handed Redact a needle. "Go back to bed." As he injected the needle, he mumbled. "No one will have to know." The drug injected was Ivendian D, which is a strong anesthetic that causes almost instant unconsciousness, and short-term memory loss.

See, in Raptoria, it was standard to drug unauthorized personnel on a Raptorian Military Base. It wasn't anything personal, but you know.

Alrek woke up after about 6 hours. "Man that felt good..." he said as he stretched his arms. He wasn't very worried about the helicopter, but he was a bit worried about his leg. The drug was having a bit of fun with his head, as his vision was a bit blurry, but it went away after about 5 minutes.

Redact walked back in, looking suprised. "Wow, you're up early." He pulled and cocked his pistol. "I want you to know, this is nothing personal, but you cannot speak to anyone at this camp but me. I'll be guarding this tent. Feel free to walk around if you're up to it, but I'm authorized to put a bullet in your head if you attempt to escape." He smiled. "It's for your own good, we've treated you best we can, I'm only following guidelines."

"It's ok; protocol is protocol" Alrek replied. "It's been awhile since I slept on a decent bed nor have I slept as well, the wind isn't freezing my nose off like it was, and don't worry, I couldn't escape even if I wanted to." he said, pointing to his leg. "In all due honesty, I'm just a skinny little factory manager who got laid off and wanted to fly something. I only got through basic training because the guy had to meet quota." he said laughing. "Couldn't do a single push-up"

"Heh." Redact chuckled unimpressed, he was suspisious of Alrek's Niceness, he seemed to be trying to work him. "Yes, I understand." He leaned back in his simple wooden chair.

Alrek noticed how the guy seemed to be on to him: "I'm not joking; it's better in here than it was out there. I only have one request: my belly's talking to me. There were some provisions in the helicopter, but I can't get over there. Other than that, everything's as good as it's getting anytime soon."

"You won't be going anywhere." He pressed a key on the computer. "Food is on the way, hope you like Instant Noodles."

"Oh yes, eat 'im all the time since I can't cook." Alrek said as he took of his parka. He just had a white shirt on, with nothing hidden as far as anyone could tell. "I'm probably going to be here for awhile, especially if the morons in the Legislature decided to pick yet another fight, so we might as well have some fun. I have a portable chess set in the inside pocket of my parka. Do you play?"

He smiled. "Sure, I warn you, I havn't played in ages."

He took out the portable chess set, and slowly emptied the compartments making no sudden moves. "There are no weapons on my person, and even if there were, I'm outnumbered at least 100 to 1 with a /major/ tactical disadvantage. Don't worry." he said as he set the pieces up. "I was never good at this game, but I'm trying to get better."

He smiled once more and glanced at his gun, just in case, he seemed way too prepared and smooth for a detainee of sorts. "I'll go easy..." He finally said.

Alrek set up the white pieces on Redact's side, and the black ones on his side. "White moves first." he said.

Redact moved his pawn right above his knight forward 1.

Alrek moved the pawn in front of the king forward 2 spaces, as that is how he usually played it.

He moved his bishop in place where the pawn was.

This is a bump, a bump and nothing else.

[[the bishop cannot move to the space because it is still blocked]]

[R] [N] [B]

--- [p] [p]

[p]

OOC: Agh, my brains, my chess fried brains...

It's ok, you can say they played, your guy won, and that Alrek didn't ever try doing anything.

OOC: You sure? It could just be because I'm exhausted...

OOC: Is it a little late to join?

Whichever you want is fine with me; I'm flexible

OOC: Is it a little late to join?

OOC: Nope not at all.

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

OOC: Maybe we could just RP a bit of dialouge between the characters rather than just the chess moves themselves?

That works.

OOC: Nope not at all.


OOC: Ok, just checking. Are your guys in the station?

OOC: It seems they are...

IC:

About two miles from the base thirteen dropships land. All of the dropships exept for one had tools and parts for a base. The single Dropship with humans, well close to human, life forms inside was called "Irowin". Soon after the ships landed the base recieved a message.

That works.
OOC: Okay.
IC: With his hand moving to put the king in check, he shivered a bit... Something was wrong... But... What? "SIR!" A soldier came running in.
"What is it Duncan?"
"Dropships, I dunno if they're friendly, but they're a mere 2 miles from us!"
Redact whisted, 2 miles was so very close. "Send out a few troops on Moto's, and one Light Tank... Let's let them know who we are."
"Yessir, the troops will be mobilizied ASAP!"
The soldier darted outside as the alarm sounded, troops scrambled to get in position. Redact stood up and nodded towards his new friend. "I'll have to leave the game for another time..." He said as he picked up his rifle. "I trust that you won't try anything? Otherwise, we'll shread you with hot lead." He chuckled and began rally the troops.

OOC: I'm not attacking, just making eye to eye contact. I'm sending 9 men on Moto's, and 1 Light Battle Tank, the rest are staying at base.

OOC: Okay.
IC: With his hand moving to put the king in check, he shivered a bit... Something was wrong... But... What? "SIR!" A soldier came running in.
"What is it Duncan?"
"Dropships, I dunno if they're friendly, but they're a mere 2 miles from us!"
Redact whisted, 2 miles was so very close. "Send out a few troops on Moto's, and one Light Tank... Let's let them know who we are."
"Yessir, the troops will be mobilizied ASAP!"
The soldier darted outside as the alarm sounded, troops scrambled to get in position. Redact stood up and nodded towards his new friend. "I'll have to leave the game for another time..." He said as he picked up his rifle. "I trust that you won't try anything? Otherwise, we'll shread you with hot lead." He chuckled and began rally the troops.

OOC: I'm not attacking, just making eye to eye contact. I'm sending 9 men on Moto's, and 1 Light Battle Tank, the rest are staying at base.

OOC: Okay.

IC:
Inside the Irowin.
"Sir we have picked up a small force headed in our direction. It consists of 9 men and 1 light battle tank. Should we call for the FFS Raptors and Viper-Zs to attack?"
"No. Let them come , but get those ships down here just incase. Place a radar blocking ship in the group to gaurd them."
"Yes sir!"

5 FFS Raptors,5 Viper-Zs and 1 Radar blocker enters the atmosphere above the dropships. 2 armed frieghters wait in high orbit watching the surface for any other troops.

On the Tundra, EST to Arrival: 20 minutes

The Moto bikes all seemed to form a V shape around the Tank, everyone knew eachother, they were mostly friends from boot camp, but some new faces were thrown in at the start of Ice Claw. Private Yauldoon and Private Zell were close comrades, and were always side by side. "Hey Zell!" Yauldoon called out from his side.
"What is it?" Zell yelled back over the wind and sound of motors.
"Who are we even contacting?!"
"Beats me, I just know they're unknown."
"Well fuck man, that really helps."
"... Ho...ly...SHIT!"
"What?"
"They've got high alt. fighters patrolling the skies, if we fuck up the diplomacy, we're as good as dead!"
"What about Naval support?"
"Too late for that now..."
"Just forget about it, and hope they're friendly."
And with that, the talking ceased as the unknown troops came into view...

The ten people onboard the Irowin were out front of the ships awaiting the men, one of the people was looking through a pair of binoculars while the rest just sat and waited.

On the patrol comms the pilots have been talking about the people sent from the base.

The ships set a position and watch while the ten people continue to wait.

The bikes slowed to a halt as each soldier took a look at what could possibly be their last. Tensions where high. Sergeant Uman was the Commander of the tank, and he was first to stand up. "Greetings unknown force! We represent the Raptorian Federation! Please state the nature of your buisness."

Ship/person placements:


[R][V][R][V][R]
[D] [D] [V][R][RB][R][V]
[D] [V]
[D][D] [D]
[D]
[D][D] [D] [D]
[D] {I}

[P][P][P][P]
[P][P][P][P]
[P]{L}{L}[p]

OOC: Correct my last posts about people, there are actually 12.
Key:
[p]=person
{L}=leaders
{I}=Irowin
[D]=Dropship
[r]=FFS Raptor
[v]=Viper-Z
[RB]=Radar blocker

The bikes slowed to a halt as each soldier took a look at what could possibly be their last. Tensions where high. Sergeant Uman was the Commander of the tank, and he was first to stand up. "Greetings unknown force! We represent the Raptorian Federation! Please state the nature of your buisness."

"Our nature of buisness," Leo said, "Is to build a base for our genetic research. It seems we may have landed too close to your base."
The man next to Leo blurted, "THEY DON'T NEED TO KNOW THAT!"
The women on the other side of Leo said back to the man, "Don't worry. They don't know the exact point of our DNA research."
Leo replied, "The research is as said by Acid is top seceret."

"Understood. Do you have any hostile intent?"

"Understood. Do you have any hostile intent?"

"No we do not," Leo said, "Our only point of location choice is because if something goes wrong we can destroy our base abd the remains would disapear. So, anymore questions?"

He looked at his men, who seemed to be much more at ease. "No, if our commander does, we will contact you through COM. Goodbye for now." And with that, they simply turned around and headed home.

Out of the back of the dropship marked as 003 4 F.A.R.Q.s equiped with construction tools walked out and begun constructing the base. The first piece to put up was the flag. It hung on a 100 foot pole. 1/4 of the pole was encased in concrete. The next thing up was the bunk house where the men would sleep.

As the tank and Motos returned to homebase, the tents were being torn down for a more permanent settlement. "We'll be here for a while, might as well make things more like home..." One man stated as he layed down some cement on a carved out area. The recon units reported their finds to Redact and the Corporal, and they put the base on 2nd alert just to be safe.

Redact returned to the tent where Alrek was, only to find...

Raptorian Ice Claw Operations HQ

All of a sudden Bellimore felt very out of place, talking with a foreign diplomat conducting… well some sort of diplomatic negotiations. But regardless of his own fears, this Corporal Kozovian had thrust him onto the stage and into the lights, and now the microphone was in front of him.

“Good day, sir. I am Commander James Bellimore of His Majesty’s Royal Navy of the Commonwealth of Azazia. I am here to speak to you regarding Commonwealth interests in the Antarctic, specifically in regards to our mutual interest in nationalizing Antarctic oil fields. Now, I don’t have any sort of ‘com frequency’ as you put it, for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; however, I’m sure that Ministry will be able to get in touch with you if you request official relations. The Ministry itself is located in our capital of Imperium, and once I return to my ship I’ll send word through my superiors that you wish to commence talks with them. At which point I’m sure they’ll send an official envoy to your nation.”

“Good day, sir. I am Commander James Bellimore of His Majesty’s Royal Navy of the Commonwealth of Azazia. I am here to speak to you regarding Commonwealth interests in the Antarctic, specifically in regards to our mutual interest in nationalizing Antarctic oil fields. Now, I don’t have any sort of ‘com frequency’ as you put it, for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; however, I’m sure that Ministry will be able to get in touch with you if you request official relations. The Ministry itself is located in our capital of Imperium, and once I return to my ship I’ll send word through my superiors that you wish to commence talks with them. At which point I’m sure they’ll send an official envoy to your nation.”

"Good good..." He spoke into the microphone. "I'll patch a message through to them ASAP. And please speak with them soon as well. If you need any assistance, feel free to ask our troops." He put the COM on hold and started preparing a message to the Azazian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

"Greetings friends.
We have spoken with a man by the name of Bellimore, and he suggested that I contact you immedately. I am the head of Ice Claw operations, hailing from the Raptorian Federation. I request a simple pact between our nations. Nothing fancy, simply put, an agreement not to have military conflict arise. I trust you are civilized enough to accept. I hope to speak with you soon. Goodbye for now.

-Zertan Vilvan, Head of Ice Claw Operations"

Bump

On the behalf of the Commonwealth, I am Herbert Bligh, the Undersecretary to the Minister of Foreign Affairs. I have indeed spoken to the Minister, who has conferred with the Prime Minister and Emperor and all three have agreed that a bilateral non-aggression pact between our two states would be mutually beneficial.

Herbert Bligh
Undersecretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs

The drilling station was finished and oil began to flow into the tanker, that followed the Romanov to the reseach station.

The drilling station was finished and oil began to flow into the tanker, that followed the Romanov to the reseach station.

The drones still flew overhead, watching the tanker's every move.

Bump...

Bumpity.

El Bumpo?

OOC:You wouldnt happen to mind if I jumped in now thats things seem to have (pardon the pun) chilled down, would you?

OOC: lol, no, not at all. By all means do join, I was just about to let this thing die anyway...

White, as far as the eye could see... was probably the only accurate way for a soldier to write home about Antartica. It was cold, much like their home in winter, and in the summer it was still cold...

Which was only a slight improvement over the almost constant muddy ground that made the home of these few soldiers nearly impossible for heavy vehicles to traverse 3/4ths of the year. A real pain for a military set on the doctrine of mechanized infantry... but none the less that boggy, cold and forbidding place was their home and they were here to defend it... why here you ask? quite simply Antartica though supriseingly fridgid was a neutral landmass well within range of heavy bombers, a frigthening thought to the small nation that all the advantages (and massive defensive restrictions) of their native soil could be cut down so simply by a cunning enemy with a bit of foresight, and a bit of insanity to attempt settling an airstrip in such a desolate place.

Never the less the military council was not about to let such an obvious flaw be their end, and such a small detachment of soldiers and the occasional researcher had been on the ice for coming on four years now crews rotating out every eight months or so, icebergs providing. The facility had kept itself busy doing extreme weather tests on the equipment they had been shipped, but when countries began building structures on the ice they had gotten abit worrysome. Was this the situation they had been sent here to prevent? It was hard to tell without directly encountering them, which was something they were not ready to do.

...and here overlooking the Raptorian camp lay two soldiers their white over parka's and StG.85 Assault Rifles wrapped in white camoflage tape to break up their outlines as they observed the camp in an attempt to determine the groups combat capabilities the 'lethal lollie' recticles and 3x magnification of the 'tigers eye II' weapon sights make this situation much mroe comfortable allowign them to observe but keep excellant eye relieve to prevent freezing to their weapons in the extreme cold during long hours of observation.

OOC:*beats TAA* no! bad FT puppet! back into the box with you!

OOC: sorry forum issues, keeps switching me to my FT puppet

At the base, all was quiet. The walls had been constructed, the bunks created, and the Control Center was up. Along the walls were constant guard towers, and the one entrance to the base was a large sliding metal door. The ground and walls were solid concrete, and the buildings were made of a wide range of metals. The troopships had long gone, and the base was left with tons of food and water, along with many tanks, scouts, moto's, and attack helicopters. To the casual passerby (as if there were any in the Antarctic.) It would look like a fair sized military outpost. But it was not; it was just a mining facility.

Inside the base, soldiers prepared their gear again, alongside lightly armed engineers to help find and construct oil pumps and pipelines.

Casual? perhaps not, but there were watching eyes, admitedly they had been late to the shindig but they were there. The pair of soldiers slowly crawled back from the ridge of snow and ice heading for a frozen treeline at the base and their hidden snowmobiles which would speed them back to their base of operations.

Icelia F.O.R.C.E. (Forward Operationg Recconiscience & Command Echalon)

30 kilometers South West of the Raptorian drilling station A rather nervous group of soldiers sat waiting inside the prefab structures built into the side of a large hill. The recon team had been away for almost twenty four hours collecting data, thier mission an important one, but beign that long out on the ice was alsways a dangerous mission without the added possibility of their capture, or execution. When the pair finally did return the entire camp seemed to jump back to life as the commanders rushed their cold comrades into a small heated office handing both of them a large cup of overheated coffee.

"Well?" and officer inquired curiously as he took a seat across from them.

both men hesitated for a few moments as they adjusted to the warmth of the office and wet their lips with the coffee, the snow in one fo the mens beard dripping into his coffe mug as he savored the steam from the cup.

"They are certianly well prepared, well armed, and easily four to six times our number..." the man with the beard spoke up in response.

"Are there any indications of their purpose here?" shot back the officer not flinching at the fact of easily being outnumbered more than five to one.

"Its hard to tell really, if they werent so well armed; tanks, helicopters, even brought their own prefab defensive structures... they could be here for any reason."

"Do you feel they could be a threat Corporal?"
"To us, or to the DPRM? sir?"
"either.." responded the officer nonchalantly.
"I feel sir that the instalation I observed was not of an offensive nature, seemingly constructed for mostly its own defense... whether or not this is nearely a stepping stone for the construction of larger base, I have no idea..."
"you didnt answer my question corporal.."
"...to us sir? Most likely, to Mekugi? at this time I would say no... atleast not from this instalation."

"Thank you men, you are dismissed" the two scouts left the commanders office and met up with the rest of the men to inform them of their experience out on the ice. meanwhile several other officers entered the commanders office waited while he made a decision. They all watched intently as the comander studied a map pinned to the wall next to his desk, he didnt turn around he simply spoke in a calm voice. " Sergeant Decker what do we still ahve in the arsenal?"

A scrawny man most likely no older than twenty five l stepped forward and and pulled out a list as he read it off to the other officers assembled"

"One Sturmgewehr Model eighty five per Enlisted Man and Officer
with Eight 30 round 6.5x39mm magazines
One P13 pistol per man...
with two 20 round magazines
Three M13 Fragmentary grenades per man...
One M13 smoke grenade per man...
Two M80 DFRAG's per man...
One MBT LAW per squad...
One SA-7 Grail SAM per squad
No Ammo is left for the SAWs or HMGs so those are essentially bunk...

...and Im sorry to say, but other than their bayonets thats it..."

The commander rubbed his temples as the list was read, they really were under equipped for what their intended mission was supposed to be. "Is there anything else? anything at all?"

Decker had become a bit nervous by this point "...um, well there are the tanks but we only have eight 75mm GHV rounds total... thats only four per veh--"

"I can count sergeant! " The comander angrilyinterupted, the stress beginning to show on his face. he leaned back into his chair with a sigh and thoguht for a few seconds "Well we know we have very little ammuntion, but they dont, for all we know we could just be a scouting force... I think gentleman we will go and find out what thier intentions are, though we may have to bluff our way into their acknowledgement."

The assembled officers saluted and exited quickly to begin prepping the men to meet their new neighbors.

Alrek proceeded to play chess and talk to the guard: "Your move; I need to zip the parkas back up, I'm getting a little cold." He zipped up the very bulky insulator and likewise zipped up the shell, as well as rubbed his hands together to keep them warm.

The Sergeant continued with the game, feeling uneasy about the surroundings.

Raptorian Command Center (Ice Base 1)

"Sir." A man radioed in from the Carrier. The Corporal picked up the microphone and spoke into it. "Go on Sailor."
"Our scouts have picked up a small force moving towards your position."
"Hostile?"
"Unknown, we can't even tell what they're driving with the visibility this low."
"We'll have to wait and see then, aye?"
"Aye sir. I'll keep you posted."
"Ice Base 1 Out."
He sighed. "Great, another fucking neighbor to greet..." He said silently.

The commander had left a platoon back at the base taking the remaining two platoons with him to atleast look thepart of someone not to be messed with... it was a falacy of course they were outnumbered and outgunned 5 to 1 with no air support on their side at all... Though that didnt seem to stop them as they got within about 5km of base the convoy split up one platoon of 27 men going heading north west mostly on foot to prevent detection while the second platoon rather comfortable int heir transport trucks escorted by the two tanks headed what could be considered 'the front door' or taking the wide open easily detectable way towards the 'new' base.

The second platoon was to take up postion where the previous scouts had observed the base, a long ridge of snow about 30 feet tall and about 300 feet long 100m from the base walls.

The first platoon with the commander would reach the base first and they stopped in full view about 500m from the base the vehicles stopping, as men on the transport trucks manned two machineguns with green ammo cans on the side but with no ammo, the visibility restrictions in their favor. One man well wrapped up in protective clothing hopped off the back of one of the trucks a pistol in his hand as he walked forward and just stood there in front of the vehicles waiting for some response from the outpost

A camera spotted the man standing outside of the base...

Raptorian Survelance Bunker

"Ho...ly... Shit." The private said as he hit the switch to put the base in Red Alert. He picked up the microphone and set the COM to the loudspeakers. "Red Alert, Red Alert. This is not a drill. Forces have been spotted outside of our walls, and appear to be hostile. Weapons online, get ready boys."

Redact darted from the small tent as he heard the alarm sound. He drew his pistol as he ran to the gates where men had already mobilized. They stood in a perfectly straight line, the front row on their knees behind a pile of sandbags, ready to unload their clips into the unknown forces.

Redact was the first out, he opened a small service door to the side, only to look at all the men and vehicles. He glared at the man standing with his pistol out. "Attention unknown forces. You are in breech of a Raptorian Land Base, and appear to be hostile. Put down your weapons or we will open fire!"

The infantry compartment at the rear of a karak light tank swung open as the commander walked toward the rear of the light tank a rather cozy and warm soldier inhabiting the fighting compartment handed him the handset for the Built in Public Address System as the commander took it and walked to the side so he could be visibly be seen by the group of armed soldiers, as the two trucks unloaded the soldier onto the white snow that could if they werent careful be red by days end.

"Correction..." responded the commander over the almost too loud PSA ssytem mounted tot he turret fo the vehicle, as the men took up two lines shoulder to shoulder on each side of the gorup of vehicles several of them fitting M13 & M80 Rifle grenades to the muzzles of their Automatic rifles and aiming the lethal anti-personal weapons at the largest clusters of infantry. They didnt intend to fire, but they werent about to be caught off guard.

"You are within the operational area of the the Democratic Peoples Republic of Mekugi Defensive Base Icelia, we ask that you put down you weapons and state your intentions... I also reccomednd you keep your birds earthbound unless you intend to escalate the situation."

The tone of voice was firm but not overtly threatening. As he finished speaking the unmistable sound of weapons cocking echoed from the snow ridge to the raptorians right side many of them with M80's already fit and aimed at the fuel tanks for the helicopters, the other aiming at targets of opurtunity rangeing from Machine gunners, to Offiers knowing the effect would at the very least be distracting if not alltogether lethal to the assembled 'enemy'

The soldiers on the ground looked around, seeing they weren't outnumbered, but Mekugi had them by the throat, unless...

Redact cocked his pistol. "Bravo on the planning. But you're forgetting one thing, I can call a tactical airstrike on you and your other troops. I'd rather not have that happen." A MBT pulled up behind the troops and had it's turret locked on the enemy soldiers. "My men will fight to the death, they fear not of pain or the end of life. They live to fight Raptoria." He shifted his position and raised his pistol. "Your move."

The commander smiled broadly before responding

"Assumption is the mother of all fuck ups... we can plainly view your capabilities... ours however are rather obfuscated dont you think?" The commander was enjoying this quite well. They were brave, stalwart and worthy opponents but even if he had every confidence in their ability to show just how effective even a tiny platton of sturmgrenadiers could be it really didnt seem worth it... afterall a true hostile force would have fired by now...

"...but it is a moot point, we are not here to start a fight, simply evaluate your intentions."

With the ridge squad providing cover just in case, the soldiers that had accompanied the commander lowered their weapons, and stood assembeled next to their vehicles. The cammander even madea show of putting his pistol back into its holster before showign his hands empty except for the com in his right hand which he brought it to his mouth to speak.

" So what of it? shall we simply stand around all day and pass propeganda and posturing back and forth? or would you care to have a drink and discuss what brings such a large force to such a cold and forbidding place..."

Redact still had his pistol pointed at the nearest foe. "Then what was this military show for? We would have gladly let you in." He grinned. "Drop your weapons and exit the vehicles slowly. You're coming with us."

The tanker leaves the drilling station and heads home. The soldiers begin patrols of the area, just case anybody wants to bug them.

The men wo had lowered their weapons raised them again with the obvious skill of a well trained force some fo them takign a knee tog eta better fireing position as one man from each of the trucks popped up from the protected back of the vehicle with a MBT LAW over their shoulders. the Mekugians had not intended for this to go this far but so be it.

The commander dropped the com and walked out ahead fot he troops about half way between the two forces if blood was to be spilled as his position dictated he was to lead by example, he was to die, he would die without fear.

" We lower our weapons for the council, and God alone... prayerfully only in that order..." the commander smirked trying to show that at the very least there was no need for bloodshed, I suppose he could have been described like the smiling owner holding the leash to a rabid dog. "but that does not mean that we will not leave you in peace if you ask, but press us and we shall leave you in pieces... god help both of our men should it come to that."

The commander took another step arms to the side to show he was not reaching for a weapon nor makigna signal, though his actions were making his men slightly nervous, and rightly so, they could put up a fight -there was No doubt of that- but for how long? The commander was now close enough to to easily be heard by all the men who had been mustered.

"But there will be no need of that will there? All we ask is that you have a short talk with me, after all you say you fight for your nation, you do not realize whose doorstep you rest on do you? From your current position you are considered a possible threat to our home nation... to the homes of our families... all we want to know is that your not such a threat... are you?"

"We are not." Redact began, pistol still raised. "I apologise for this, but you startled the entire camp, I am following protocol. And if you try anything, we'll have no problem killing all of you. I too hope it doesn't come down to that." He lowered his pistol. "The Raptorians boast a godlike military, but we usually hope to avoid bloodshed. Do come inside, with your hands in the air." He walked inside with the Raptorian soldiers surrounding the Mekugi soldiers.

((OOC: Your men would have to cover the 500 feet from the base to the vehicles to surround the group with the tanks. Those on the ridge are closer but they have a terrain advantage, the only person easily enough to surround without haveing hail of rocket grenades rain down on the facility is the commander, and he has willingly approached your line. I may be a young nation but that dosent mean I haven't thought this through.))

The commander raised his hands with a shrug as both groups lowered their weapons and sort of meandered to the rear of the vehicles or took a seat on the protected side of the snow ridge, theyd done what they needed to do, and hopefully that would be all. It was all up to the commander now.

"lead the way..." the commander said as he followed Redact inside, the men outside being no real threat if not provoked, they were afterall just following orders.

OOC: Sorry, I confused... Alright, scratch the surround thing.
IC:

They entered the base, soldiers in a line around the two. Redact took him into an underground bunker. All was dark, a single light lit a crude table and two ordinary wooden chairs.

The commander stood next to the table and folded his hands across his chest, it reminded him alot of the same table that he played poker on on saturday nights back at their base, which was an interesting connection but slightly unsettling.

"My name..." The commander began without being prompted as he turned back to Redact bowing slightly " Is Field Commander William Delacroix, of the Peoples Progressive Army from the Democratic Peoples republic of Mekugi... and it seems weve stumbled upon each other at less than ideal times, but I musy ask why such a large, and well equipped force has come here, to hells refridgerator, there must be some reason you can share."

Redact turned to him. "I am Sergeant Levoski Redact. To answer your question..." He paused to wonder if he was allowed to say it, he finally decided on yes. "We're strapped for assets recently, Oil seemed a well way to rejuvenate our exports..."

"Oh?" responded Delacroix his curiosity raised. "Now that is something we may be able to help you with..." The commander smiled knowingly and took a seat in the chair nearest to him resting his left arm on the table. "...that is if we can come to some kind of an agreement..."

Redact raised an eyebrow, still standing. "What sort of agreement?"

"That would depend entirely on what you have to offer..." responded Delacroix almost deadpan, his face emotionless. "In the four years weve been in this cold place... well... lets just say you run out of things to do rather quickly.. so you try and find something else to do."

"I don't see what you're getting at..." Redact said cautiously.

"What im saying is that in our frequent geological surveys weve come across a few locations that you might find profitable beyond your wildest dreams... Do you understand?" Delacroix leaned forward resting his hands on his knees.

"We've till now just written it off as something we might need later, but for now we have neither the processing, nor the storage facilities for such activities in this place, and command has repeatedly told us not to bother ourselves. So.... should you be able to provide us with something that we can return to our government as an even trade we may be able to provide not only the locations but assistance setting up transport routes... to there and back again.

We havent been sitting in this wilderness for years and not learn something from it..."

Redact pondered. He wasn't authorized to made decisions like this... He finally said, "Perhaps you would like to speak to HQ?" as he walked out of the bunker and towards the Surveillance building.

"I think I'll leave that to you... we will be sure to keep our deal, all you have to do is talk to your HQ and see what you think would be a nice even exchange for 8 pristine, untapped crude oil sites... and give me a ring via Radio to this frequency..."

Delacroix reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper with a frequency written on it placeing it gently on the table.

"As for me and my men, its going to be dark soon, so we should be heading home before it gets too cold for our trucks and we are forced to march back..."

Delacroix stood up and zipped up his parka pulling the hood up over his head.

" if one of your men could show me the way out, it would be appreciated..."

Outside the enlisted men had spent most of the time sitting around the truck doing excercises and such to stay warm as they waited for their commander.

The soldiers outside showed him out to his men.

Redact looked at the paper, and walked up to the surveillance building. He sat down and tapped a few switches. "Venichuamn, deshivecat Ice Claw, Sergeant Redact edmauln az..." (Headquarters, operation Ice Claw, Sergeant Redact reporting in... He was speaking in ancient Raptorian; it was a language mixed of Russian and Original Raptorian.)
"Da? What is it Redact?"
"I've come in contact with a force that lives in the area. They promise to give us maps and transportation to a series of untapped oil recourses. They are asking for something in return."
"You going to bite it?"
"Yes, but first I need authorization... I was thinking along the lines of our Uranium or Pluto..."
"No..." The Commander sighed. "We need those. Perhaps the Ruby and Diamond exports we've recently been mining?"
"Right... I'll give you the Radio Frequency. Switch your console over to..."
"I know how to work this thing, I'm the one who taught you, remember?"
"Yessir..." Redact groaned. "Frequency: 147.25"
The Commander clicked a few buttons and typed in that Radio Frequency.

"Hello? I have an offer you can't refuse."

"Oh do you now?" responded the communications officer for the Icelia base, He had been given authorization by Delacroix to decide if what they were offering is fair or not, and waited patiently for them to continue.

"I have been informed by a man on the field, he says you have some oil feilds to give to us? If this is true, we are willing to offer a crate worth of mixed Rubies and Diamonds. They're worth almost millions in total. I see that as a fair offer, don't you?"

OOC: I'm out for the night.

The radio officer leaned back in his chair as he chewed on a ration bar as he considered the deal.

"What makes you think Diamonds and Rubies are of any value to us? Are we to give over a set of oil fields that will continue over years to produce value, yet we should settle for a one time payment? How would that be fair?

You come from a large nation, you have plenty of resources both geologically and technologically surely you have something that will give us the same equivalent investment that we are giving you through these fields."

Alexonium already had all the oil it needed for centuries, but had borrowed heavily against its reserves to build up a more sustainable high-technology economy. It would be quite worried if the price of petrol dropped, as its credit rating would too.

Meanwhile, the chess game had long wound down, Alrek was sleeping better than he had in weeks, and everything seemed to be fine on his end.

OOC:bump

The radio officer leaned back in his chair as he chewed on a ration bar as he considered the deal.

"What makes you think Diamonds and Rubies are of any value to us? Are we to give over a set of oil fields that will continue over years to produce value, yet we should settle for a one time payment? How would that be fair?

You come from a large nation, you have plenty of resources both geologically and technologically surely you have something that will give us the same equivalent investment that we are giving you through these fields."

He sighed. "What do you have in mind?"

OOC: Hey guys, I'm gonna be away for a few days, possibly til Sunday, and I've got no way to use the computer... So sorry, just wait for me to come back. Sorry.

OOC: I'm back with a big BUMP!

A merchant ship approached about 100 meters from the coast, and radioed on the Raptorian frequency:

"This is the A.L.X. Bluntroller...sorry, the crew voted on that name...anyway, we're here to pick up Alrek and get him back in oue piece. The Alexonium government gave us 500 joints to pick him up on our way back, so if you could send him our way, we'd appreciate it."

The message was forwarded to Redact's personal radio. He picked it up. "Da, I'll bring him now." He nodded to Alrek and sarcastically said, "Your carrage has arrived." He stood up and jumped in a small APC. He motioned Alrek to hop in.

Alrek got on the APC, but cringed as his leg hit the floor. He got over to the APC without much incident, but when they got to the ship, they wanted the copter as well. "We're under orders to bring the copter back too. They said the thing's worth at least 500'000 joints, and they said they would have our nuts if it didn't get back in one piece."

Redact sighed and said, "Alright. But Alrek comes along too. Do you think the ship will be able to carry the choper?"

The ship radioed back: "It's only about half the weight we are approved to carry. Unless Alrek gained about 40000 kilograms, we're fine on this end."

"Right, I'll drive Alrek down to it, he can fly that bucket well, right?"

"I heard the guy's a friggin' genius; one of the best in Alexonium. From what he heard, he's part of the national guard, not quite the army, but they just keep an eye on things." the captain replied. "But I also heard the guy's a freakin' pansy."

Redact chuckled and turned the APC in the direction of the chopper.

Alrek proceeded to thank Redact for putting up with him for the day, and asked if they could write eachother.

Redact smiled, it was the first time anyone asked something like that. He finally said, "I'll do you one better." and he pulls out a notepad and pencil to write down his Radio frequincy. Redact chuckled and said, "Call me." And then he drove off.

"415.32"

"Thanks, I will."

Alrek put the piece of paper inside his pocket, and zipped it shut. He always kept imporant things there, and was good about not loosing such things. He then got in the copter and made a slow but perfect landing onto the cargo vessel, and got out. He radioed Redact and the captain: "Everything is fine on this end; I'm ready to return."

Redact nodded. "Da, I'll catch you around comrade. I'd best be returning to the base. Say hello to everyone back home for me."

"I will comrade; take care." Alrek replied. The vessel took off, and Alrek went below deck to keep himself warm. "Let me know if I can send you anything from Alexonium; the sweaters made in the north of the country are pretty warm, and quite inexpensive."

Bumpage

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