NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC:

This RP is derived from a post in my national celebration thread concerning how Schultaria Prime's seemingly inevitable overpopulation problem will threaten the nation. click here for more details. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8172050&postcount=13)

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IC:

In the wee ours of the morning, a sleek black automobile bearing the emblem of the Central Directorate made several discrete journeys to the offices of the Interior Ministry, Schultarian Intelligence Directorate, Schultarian Defense Forces, and The National Assembly. At each building a rather tall man in a full length black overcoat delivered an unsuspecting box of office supplies and left without much incident. Each package had specific instructions not to be opened until after 10 in the morning by the head of each organization, which every department faithfully followed. Within each box of sundry office equipment a small lead encased holopad was stashed covertly, its contents mysterious and critical to national security.

Activated, each holopad opened up a small screen with a prerecorded message from the three Directors of Schultaria Prime.

"We thank you for practicing discretion in your handling of this information; any and all suggestions within this message are specifically just that: suggestions. However, given recent reports from the Ministry of the Interior, we feel that perhaps it might be time for us to adapt our government to better address several important issues. None of the information in this holopad is to be discussed with anyone; however, you can expect to receive a call from us requesting your presence for a general audit. At that time, you and whoever else is privy to this information will be gathered for a more serious meeting."

The screed transformed from a three dimensional image of the Directors to a flat surface with scrolling text. Each person who read the following passage was sworn to the utmost secrecy.

USSSP CEN-DIR: DATPAK (SP1) [TIMESTP 16-02 115SDC]

-SENSITIVE FILE: LEVEL 10 SECURITY CLEARANCE-

United Socialist States of Schultaria Prime Office of the Central Directorate

-Subject Reply: The Problems of Overpopulation in Schultaria Prime

Five days ago we received a level ten message from the Ministry of the Interior stating the dire situation of our nation given its current population growth. Within the message several startling predictions were made, most of which we have no reason to doubt their clarity or their objectivity. After making several reviews of the message and its predictions confirmed by numerous reputable experts in the fields of Schultarian sociology and economics we, the three Directors of Schultaria Prime, have come to the following set of conclusions.

1. Given the current state of technological research and development in our nation, Schultaria Prime will be able to handle approximately an additional three hundred and fifty to four hundred million individuals comfortably without need for significant importation of staple goods or services.

2. Given the current status of population growth in Schultaria Prime, this expected population surge will happen over the course of six decades, give or take five years. At that point our state will lack the necessary resources to provide enough staple nutritional goods such as basic cereal grains and protein producing legumes for the population at large.

3. Given the current data on population distribution in Schultaria Prime, our nation has an exceedingly large population in urban areas. Over sixty percent live in the four megalopolises of Myrle, Tarannu, Edgen, and Schultaria Prime while another twenty percent compose the lesser urban areas surrounding the nation. With exceedingly high population density, attempts to improve urban sprawl and renovate derelict buildings can potentially cause severe disruption in our national economy.

4. Given the current predictions based from both the Interior Ministry and our independent research, the physical island of Schultaria Prime will cease to provide the proper resources for our nation in less than sixty years. At such time, the government currently in charge of Schultarian affairs will fall into ever increasing amounts of debt while enormous trade deficits whittle away at what little chance our nation has of remaining as an independent international entity. From our most conservative predictions, the Nation of Schultaria Prime can exist for little more than eighty years as a cohesive political structure without vast improvements in several critical regions.

To counter such conclusions, we have considered the following options as possible necessities for our nation. Please note that this, as well as any other information already stated, is merely suggestion at the moment. The time to develop these plans into conceivable doctrine will be discussed at a later date, and will more than likely involve the contributions of many critical Schultarian agencies. In the interim since we’ve received this report, the following ideas have been discussed at length by the Central Directorate.

Massive reinvestment in generic civilian research and development with aims to develop significant improvements in agricultural production and energy generation while at the same time expanding the University of Schultaria Prime System’s campuses to increase research productivity. Also, consider the development of land reclamation and/or artificial hydroponics to make up for the lack of arable land currently required by Schultaria Prime.


Develop and further amiable relations with local and international allies who possess mutual interests in developing Schultarian prosperity in the long term; at the same time, increase funding for the Schultarian diplomatic corps to initiate dialogue with nations that can provide our nation with economic and material surplus should we face a resource crisis.


Approve the newest civilian Designwerks project (SEMBU-3) to help alleviate the problems of urban mal-development by developing more space efficient and aesthetically pleasing underground urban areas. In addition, the possibility of relocating some 40% of the population to underground urban atriums might be a feasible alternative to maintenance-intensive urban sprawl.


Complete negotiations with the Nation of Islandia Schultaria, thereby incorporating their material resources with ours to be shared equally and prosperously. In addition, their economic clout can provide adequately for their own population with little assistance from our own revenue structures.


Consider the possibility of massive purchases or arable land throughout the world on behalf of the Nation of Schultaria Prime in exchange for equal amounts of goods, services, or physical currency. This land will be subject to local taxation, but it will provide the USSSP with the arable resources necessary to feed our nation in the short term. At the present moment, we have discussed the need to purchase at least 37,600 square kilometers of land to feed approximately six hundred and fifty million people.


Should all other options fail diplomatically, develop the necessary military-industrial complex necessary to engage in trans-national colonialism. Currently our defense forces are in no feasible shape to conduct operations well past several months of engagement, but this option should be considered as a possible last resort in this impending crisis.

The nation, and its people above all else, are paramount to our survival; destroy the people, and Schultaria is destroyed as well.

Office of the Central Directorate: Schultaria Prime, Schultaria Prime

Turning on a video monitor behind his desk, Elliot Schultz began to slowly pace around his large open office while his face blossomed with ever deepening shades of blood red. His eyes, despite their bloodshot appearance from lack of sleep and heavy doses of self-medicated caffeine, darted about the room casting piercing blows to the psyches of the dozen guests assembled in his office chamber. Despite gathering some of the most important and well respected members of the Schultarian political establishment, the Central Director had no desire to defer or engage in pleasantries. Despite all of his attempts to keep his emotions under the facade of well mannered patience and sagely cautiousness, Elliot could not contain his insufferable rage.

Speaking in low vicious tones, the Central Director growled at his staff, "I would like to know exactly how many of you here would like to walk out of this room alive. Do any of you know why I've called you here today?"

The twelve politicos, two of which were Elliot's direct subordinate directors, nodded no in a hurried, frightened manner. To say that these people were fearful of the Central Director's anger would be a grave understatement; while he fumbled around with several data crystals, the tension in the room grew electric. Despite the positions they carried, they literally twitched and shook as the Central Director got ever more flustered with each passing second. Elliot began to breathe heavily and then eventually sweat under the heat of his own anger, but all for good reason in his mind. After spending five torturous minutes trying to find the proper multimedia crystal, Elliot placed it in a cube shaped holder underneath the video screen.

"No talk," were the only two words to pour out of his mouth before the lights dimmed. Much to his demeanor, no one so much as dared do speak a word while the screen crackled to life.

-----

"Today on Hifex we are discussing the latest reports from the Schultarian Ministry of the Interior describing the state of the nation as 'tenuous' and 'overextended' by some of the administration's closest advisors. This report, now less than two years old, has been called 'a sign of blatant hubris and government miscalculation' by the Conservative Sooltar Indaata Party and has prompted a wave of scrambling action within various government agencies to ascertain how this report leaked to the public. While we still know very little about the actual text of the report, it has been described as 'precarious' and 'damning' by some major Schultarian policy experts; many individuals who have had the time to read the report in full have stated that this document is perhaps a sign of some larger government action to repress information from the gen..."

-----

Before the last few seconds of the video could be replayed Central Director Schultz, mentally distressed and psychologically drained, picked up his office chair and threw it at the massive screen. A shower of sparks, smoke, and ozone filled the room as the remnants of the meeting fled the office for fear of their lives. Physically oblivious to the damage he inflicted, Elliot berated his fleeing contemporaries.

"You had best find where that leak came from or none of you will live to see the dawn! And as god as my witness I will fulfill that promise!"

Headquarters of the Sooltar Indaata Conservative Party: Myrle, Schultaria Prime

Porter Altunis couldn't help but smile at the news reports streaming out of the capital; even though he knew that most people would care less about the actual report, the bitter expatriate of Islandia Schultaria would do everything he could to take full advantage of this sudden political windfall. The fact that his target was the lifelong political enemy of Islandia Schultaria and the golden grandson of the nation's founding father made him salivate with delight. "It's time to make Mr. Schultz sweat in public and pay for the damage his grandfather caused to my family," he schemed to himself with a particularly devilish grin on his face. Eventually the frenzied media fervor would die down and business would return to usual, but no self-respecting businessman would ever pass up an opportunity to make quick profit off of someone else's misfortune.

Especially when the misfortune was intentionally designed...

As other members of the Schultarian conservative party pulled out cigars and brandy to toast this sliver of good fortune, Altunis retired to a small conference room located on the second floor of the old Heritage Building. Ornately laden with deeply carved and richly lacquered oak and mahogany trim, the room spoke volumes about the history of Schultaria's past. A past, in his mind, that needed to be avenged; a past that saw the glory of a market free from the restrictions of social welfare and the birth of the greatest Schultarian industrialists. Touching the smooth polished surface of the windowsill at the far end of the room, Porter couldn't help but overlook the former financial district of Myrle. Outside this window he saw his enemy, a people who destroyed everything he loved about Sooltaria; a nation where he and his family would have had their rightful place amongst the upper classes of the plutocracy, but instead were removed from the nation like so much offal from a goose.

"There will be no peace between us Mr. Schultz. I can assure you of that."

Number Sixteen Old Tern Avenue - The Gray Axe Inn: Myrle, Schultaria Prime

Porter was pacing around the cramped and over furnished lobby while the dim wall lighting cast a warm familiar candle like glow against the read and gold leaf wallpaper. As dozens of tourists and weary business travelers wandered in and out of the entryway Altunis tried his best to play incognito; he did this more to deceive himself than the rest of the faceless mob. A man who had known nothing but lavish and secluded surroundings, this inn wasn't the most comfortable place for Altunis, but he put up a tolerant front while he made a quick phone call to his office. The call was not important in itself, except to arouse a rather inconspicuous looking traveler in a thick woolen suit.

Sitting in a couch across from Porter, he pulled out his personal e-paper and sharply cleared his throat. Drawing the ire of Altunis, he smiled and asked innocently, "Are the bonds a good investment this quarter?"

Tucking his personal phone away he let loose a large and deep sigh of relief, "Boy I'm glad to see you. How's the 'mining' operation coming along? Are we ready to take this little venture global?" Tensing in anticipation, his fingers dug deep into the plush blue cloth of the chair, "Well, are we?"

The traveler, sweating and anxious, hunched over as he drew closer to his anxious quarry; struggling to hold back any outward signs of desperation, he nodded in agreement. Although he knew he was telling the truth, Porter was not blind to the body language of his contact. Nearly two decades in the ranks of upper management of his family's Islandian electronics corporation had made him an especially ardent judge of sycophants; he knew a bad offer when he saw it, and he wasn't about to take any chances. Checking the surroundings to his satisfaction, he pulled up to the moderately nervous traveler and replied politely, "It's good that we are prepared, but I notice you are holding something back. Please, it would be bad form to go about this if I don't know all the angles." Seeing nobody else in the room, save for the clerk, he sat in the couch beside the contact, "You can tell me, no one else will know."

"Okay," he said as his whole body began to tense, "we are ready to go ahead and begin with the next stage of our plan, but the top has become wise to us."

"Exactly how high are we talking," retorted Altunis with a devilish grin spreading across his face.

"All the way Mr. Altunis. All the way to the Directorate; if they find out it could mean death not only to our livelihoods but perhaps the party and... the sovereignty of Sooltaria."

"We'll see about that my dear friend," Porter answered as he fell back in the plush cushions of the couch, "we'll see..."

ooc: Tag, and once again I feel inferior to your excellent roleplaying. May the aWen Corp., so invested in Schultarian economics, begin a slight and removed involvement?

OOC:

(Smiles) Thank you for the compliment Lindim!

You may by all means join, but just make sure not to get your fingers too deep in the fire because this could potentially get ugly; even I don't exactly know where this story will take me as I'm writing it.

For now, it'll just be a short post. It's time to set up the pieces to play the game.

-----

Office of the Central Directorate - Three Days Later

Following the tirade which nearly destroyed his office, Elliot had taken great pains to cloister himself from the eyes of his closest advisors and the media; although he had personally written and published several press releases and offered a chance for a personal interview to the Hifex state run news corporation since his breakdown, he was physical wreck. Whenever he wasn't consumed with the developing stories of government conspiracy or taking copious amounts of stimulants to keep himself awake, relapses into violent depression were commonplace. Even when his friends and colleagues were capable of getting through to the despondent head of state, his voice sounded withdrawn and weakened with a sickly timbre, but that was a ruse carefully built by the Director to deceive his allies. He was by no means sick; definitely weakened by his lack of sleep and proper eating habits, but still very lucid... and plotting.

Like his grandfather, he knew the value of a good diversion to draw on his personal political reserves. While he hated to admit that this news story was just about the worst fiasco in his administration, he was by no means worried to think in such terms. "Compared to the incompetence of poor old Harlen Damien, I've been a damn saint to the nation," he whispered as his mind, a torrent of rage and deceitful tact, plotted moves to counter unseen enemies, "I give this nation my industry and my selflessness only to have some little selfish clerk want a chance in the spotlight. Well you'll have it, but it'll be more painful than you realize."

+tag+ Well written SP. You have me interested.

OOC: I know you suggested to get involved lightly, but knowing how involved aWen was, I couldn't resist. I've tried keeping everything as realistic and controlled as possible. If you don't like it, let me know and deleted it shall be.

IC: Edreni's blouse was old; some of the seams were loosening, their gray tendrils peaking out from behind the faded black collar. Her jeans had knees worn white, the denim bearing the marks of uncounted washings. The wallpaper of her office had stopped clinging to the concrete and peeled backwards. Outside on her office door a simple sign hung, cheap plastic colored to give the unconvincing impression of stained wood. In simple, neat letters, three centimeters tall, her name and title read: "Edreni - aWen Press Liason."

She was a joke. The massive aWen Corporation, a sprawling capitaliztic company that had ties in every major industry, was invested in the Schultarian Designwerks Internationale so heavily that it sent the big brass to liason with the Socialist government. With such an important, if rather juxtaposed partnership, the aWen Board of Directors wasn't going to let a little, unimportant person like Edreni make any deals. And with the Schultarian Hifex so state-run, it wasn't like she had any thing to reveal or deal with.

So Edreni sat, and whittled away her hours typing long stories, filling up hard drive after hard drive on her computer with fantastic stories about water spirits and princesses and dashing pirates and all the like of exciting business she had never known, nor ever will.

Edreni's fingers were dashing away at her keyboard, the noisy chatter of the keys filling up the omnipresent silence of her office in the aWen Corp Schultarian offices. She was writing the epic conclusion to her three part narrative of the robot pirate of the future, his gunslinging feats and anti-heroic aura single-handedly taking down the corrupt Intergalactic Police Chief. And now, as he dueled wtih the evil officer, the robot pirate drew out his-

"Today on Hifex we are discussing the latest reports from the Schultarian Ministry of the Interior describing the state of the nation as 'tenuous' and 'overextended' by some of the administration's closest advisors. This report, now less than two years old, has been called 'a sign of blatant hubris and government miscalculation' by the Conservative Sooltar Indaata Party and has prompted a wave of scrambling action within various government agencies to ascertain how this report leaked to the public. While we still know very little about the actual text of the report, it has been described as 'precarious' and 'damning' by some major Schultarian policy experts; many individuals who have had the time to read the report in full have stated that this document is perhaps a sign of some larger government action to repress information from the gen..." the Hifex reporter on the television set droned on, but Edreni's ears had snapped shut, her fingers frozen as the opening statement ran through her mind.

She came from a free and capitaliztic society. There, a report like this was mundane and expected, even rather benign. But on a state-run news channel in a Socialist state, the implications were profound. Leak? Government easing up on oversight? Drunk reporter?

WIth a sigh and a shrug, Edreni went back to work and wrapped up her story, the climax culminating in an epic scene where the robot pirate sacrificed himself for a human lover, and defeated the evil policeman in the process. Edreni clicked "Save," closed the word processor, and had just begun to scan her email when-

A sudden slam echoed as her office door crashed into the door stopper and flew back into the waiting hand that opened it. A tall, lanky junior officer from the company stepped in, his eyes alight and a grin shining through his forcibly stoic face. He was dressed in the black, surrealist suit favored by Lindimese businessmen today, and it annoyed Edreni. He spoke before she could tell him off, though. "You saw the report right? The senior staff is down the hall, emergency meeting. Follow me."

Edreni was astounded that in such a company with a buecracy that a meeting would be convened so quickly. I mean, sure, she guessed that the Hifex report could have some vague effect on the company, but what was this all about? She grabbed her suede jacket and followed the young college student down the stark white halls. There were inspirational posters hung at random intervals, and Edreni always couldn't help but read them.

DEDICATION

"Obviously, we want a stable Schultaria, but if this is a leak, that suggests perhaps more favorable capitaliztic elements coming into play, which we may want to ally with. However, we don't want to alieneate Elliot, because stock..." the junior company officer droned on, waving his arms around as he spoke to Edreni- no, into his hands-free cellphone.

TRUST

HONESTY.

He stopped in front of door, a black metal door that Edreni recognized as the most secure room she had ever knwon of. Tap-proof, bomb-shelter walls, electronically secured, and utterly private, this was where the original aWen-Designwerks partnership was negotiated.

She stepped in warily, eyeing the grave men in grave suits that lined the grave marble conference table with grave looks, as a man stood gravely at the head of the table.

Edreni giggled nervously, and took the last empty seat, shivering even beneath her jacket. The junior officer, looking cartoonish in his all black outfit, shut the door and the room was encased in a tomb of silence. The standing man, his grey hair combed back and his blue tie meticulously made, broke it.

"You've heard the report," he nearly growled. It was not a question. "Then most of you know what this meeting is about."

Edreni glanced about and was slightly relieved that others seemed as confused as she was. She found the courage to shake her head.

The man at the front- Edreni remembered he was Lieat, a Corporate Intelligence manager- continued. "The news report could not have been deliberate. Hifex has never made such a negative, and probably accurate, news item about its government in its history. The danger, or opportunity for us lies in this 'leak's' source." Edreni heard excited whispering at "opportunity," but Lieat shut them up with a glare. "The leak may have been capitaliztic elements within the government, which has obvious benefits for our company, perhaps even expanded operations. It could be saboteurs from a rival company, though which one I could not name. This would have a negative impact on us. Or," Lieat said, sucking in his breath for some strange reason, "it could be the Protectorate."

There was a pause, and suddenly blue folders with red lettering over the front were being passed around the table.

TOP SECRET - YOUR EYES ONLY

"Now, we could be overreacting to a disgruntled official's revenge, but just in case..." the man's voice filtered out as Edreni flipped through a folder of press statements and positions for various situations and possibilities. The last catergory simply read: "WAR."

Edreni shivered again. The aWen Corp. had a revenue that was larger than some GDPs. It had its own private army, navy, and air force. What did they know that she didn't?

Or was the Board of Directors just crazy and paranoid over a little incident?

Schultarian Intelligence Directorate Headquarters - Internal Division (SID - 2): Schultaria Prime, Schultaria Prime

While most of the agents and students of class 015 were off on their mandatory lunch break discussing petty gossip or complaining about the beef soup in the cafeteria Vonno Cotomai, a young trainee with the SID's Intranet Intercept squad, decided to celebrate his impending graduation as a full officer in the relative comfort and privacy of his cubicle. In the warm glow of the flex monitor that dominated his cubicle walls he activated a small virtual scenery program given to him by his supervisor, a gift to commemorate the five years since his admission into the SID's rigorous training school. As the walls of his workspace melded into lush greenery and vivid blue of the Edgen coastline, a pang of homesickness tugged at the back of his mind; for five years he had been unable to tell his family much about what was happening, even when we was capable of traveling home, but he felt the price was worth it.

The pride he got from doing his job felt absolutely divine, though unfortunately the action was few and far between in recent weeks. Vonno longed for the days of basic training when he felt as though the action was grueling, but at least constant. Training under the same conditions as the Otkron, his mental and physical toughness rivaled the best special forces in Schultaria, and he loved every minute. "Damn aptitude tests," he grumbled in his mind while feasting on his specially ordered hummus sandwich, "If they hadn't found out about my computer skills I could have been with SID-8 on some covert op right now. God I'm a fool." Sucking down the crumbs of pita covering his desk, he turned off the image program and dawdled around waiting for his coworkers to return from their break. Before his peers and superiors had even considered returning back to their posts, a hideously loud and booming klaxon blurted out from the public address system. Its tone and key could only signify one event...

Incursion Alarm

Cotomai wasn't one to jump to conclusions or panicked actions, but the Directorate's automated programs patrolling the many trillions of bytes passing through the dense and seemingly convoluted patchwork of routers and data stations had intercepted a rather sophisticated data miner in the SID's archives. As if by instinct, he pressed the general alarm to rouse his more experienced colleagues to action while he continued to analyze and interpret the damage. While he kept an eye on protecting the nation's most sensitive files from becoming virus fodder, the precise timing and teamwork of his division came out in full force. Behind his cubicle, the supervisor took full control of the situation and began damage control.

"Vonno, situation report!"

"Sir, we appear to have a data miner in central archive core. It appears to be a hybrid sir; pretty advanced mode of entry but searching for specific data on pretty rigid algorithms."

Wiping his brow, the supervisor began briskly jogging about from cubicle group to cubicle group, his portable headset in permanent contact with the entire mass of activity. "Detection team, analysis on the miner's potential targets?"

"Scans are incomplete sir, but it appears to be looking for regional information on the State of Prime but in a random fashion. No real specific targets, although it should become clearer once we've isolated the pro..."

The entire room, primary generators and all, disconnected before the last portion of the Detection team's statements could be received. Awash in the golden yellow glow of emergency lighting, the I.I. team made backups of all their files before securing their workstations. Grimacing, the supervisor pressed his headset close to his left ear before urging his somewhat confused team of operatives to quiet down and await his speech. "It appears that our division was specifically attacked by this malevolent program but, fortunately, both the data miner and its damage were contained by G group in SID-8. However, before they terminated the operation, they found that the program had not transmitted any information to the outside. A tracer program has been transmitted and, once we are back online, we should be able to trace the course of this attempt at theft and destruction of Schultarian property. Alert your support teams; this could be a potential on-site ops mission."

Vonno smiled, "I hope my graduation might come a little sooner; this opportunity is just too rich to pass up!"

OOC: Nice writing style and a disturbing turn of events in SP, if a little at odds with the facts in the real world which show that birth rates in developed countries are dropping below replacement levels and that's mainly down to urbanisation where children are a liability not an asset like in a rural environment.

I shall read in anticipation.

Apartment 205-01 - The Michael Schultz Omniverse Building: Schultaria Prime, Schultaria Prime

Still feigning illness Elliot retired from his office several hours early to relax at his home, or at least that was what the media fed to the general public. Of course he had decided to take leave of his duties, much to the delight of the exhausted train of assistants and bureaucrats who dared to venture inside the Central Director's office, but that did not mean he was incapacitated. Much the opposite, Central Director Schultz wanted to play the ruse for all it was worth; milking any camera time he could in order to patch up the nasty little fires springing up from his administration, his sympathy routine proved to be quite the media darling. Four days after the Hifex report had spread to nearly a billion and a half screens on live news, most information regarding the investigation had been relegated to page fifteen or less. In most people's minds the investigation surrounding the news report would be a standard affair involving an Assembly subcommittee prattling on for a few months while nothing got done, but for the Central Director this pretext was all the ammunition he needed to finish his grandfather's political grudges.

All of that was still in the future; for now, Elliot was content just to have a quiet moment alone in the family's well established, though seldom used, urban apartment in Schultaria Prime. It wasn't anything spectacular, save for the breathtaking vista of the cityscape from the two hundred and fifth floor, but in terms of furnishing and size the place was a rather modest abode for a family of four. Sighing, he unfastened the overcoat of his black pinstripe suit and sank deeply in the plushy padded green felt of his favorite lounging chair. After literally living in his office for the last two weeks, this was a wonderful reprieve from the tensions of work.

Until the phone rang...

Groggy and slightly perturbed, he picked up the phone with a good deal of reservation. Before he could even speak or even have the common courtesy to say hello, the receiver rattled with the excited worry of his intelligence minister. Tired and slightly distant, the first half minute of the conversation was almost complete gibberish to the Director's ears while various ministers were clamoring to have their audience with the weary head of state. Impatient, Elliot barked back, "If you would most kindly shut up I would like to know in ten words or less just what in the great name of my grandfather is going on!"

A breathless voice replied, "Sir... the SID... it's been attacked... almost shut down."

Hearing the news, Elliot clamped down on his jaw so hard that he nearly bit and severed his lower lip. Hands twitching and fueled by rage he replied with all the caution and sagacity he would draw while his anger began to fuel the boilers of hate churning in his head. "Tell Directors Haarvekord and Covey that I want a holomeeting with them in forty five minutes with all the SID chiefs. If there are any breaking events, please contact me through my data pad's secure line. Are we clear?"

"Crystal sir."

When he finally heard the other end of the line disconnect, the Central Director flew into a despotic rage inside the confines of the apartment's kitchen. Ripping the phone off of its wall mount, he flung the disconnected headset clear across the room where it embedded itself in the plaster wall of the living area. Frustrated, he disheveled the room in a uncontrollable tirade; leaving the floor and counters covered in shards of plastic, ceramic, and glass. All but exhausted, he retired to the shower to distract and relax himself from the situation at hand.

The shower was a welcome relief to the frayed nerves and frenetic worry that consumed Elliot; streams of warm, pure, tendrils of water massaged the Central Director's aching muscles and distracted his consciousness enough to half heartedly go through the motions of cleaning himself. Of course no amount of physical comfort was able to completely segregate his tortured thoughts, but he did enjoy the privacy that a good bathing brought. In a life constantly under the public magnifying glass, Elliot both thrived and felt crushed by the weight of his political burden; even after twenty five years and a universally favorable public reputation, he still pined for the days of his anonymous college years.

Lathering and rinsing his hair for the third time, he shut off the shower and slowly toweled himself in the privacy of the master bedroom. Save for a few shards of light piercing the bent blinds, the room was darkened in an ethereal maroon glow. While rest of the capital, nearly a thousand meters below the floor of his house, was still consumed in the functions of normal life, Elliot put on his padded red bathrobe and slipped in between the covers of his king sized bed. From the far wall a casual voice replied with almost mechanical accuracy, "Thirty seconds to holoconference Mr. Schultz."

Almost on cue the bedroom vaporized into thin air, replaced by the ornate and aesthetically designed master conference room of the Central Directorate. Through the wonders of the nation's holographic technology, the room was rendered in every accurate detail down to the nearest half millimeter; as Elliot waited patiently for Directors Haarvekord and Covey, he couldn't help but be impressed with the technology that made this possible. "Any more real and I'd swear that I'd never have to leave the house," he commented to himself as he adjusted his posture, now thoroughly relaxed, "Better make sure to approve the Eldaimovey holography budget for this year. This stuff is just too impressive to say no." When Joan Covey and Sarnow Haarvekord finally took their seats, Elliot nodded and waived his hand to the technician on the other end of the conference. A few seconds of minor discoloration and temporary static, and the line had been secured.

Unwilling to just discuss petty details the Central Director was forthcoming, but sounded obviously more in control of his emotions. "Joan, Sarnow, I would just like to apologize beforehand about my actions over the last few days. What I have said and done is more a product of my own inability to keep my emotions in check rather than any actual threat, but all things aside I am still worried about the situation at hand. First off, what can you tell me about the attack on the SID?"

Breathing heavily, Joan replied with some trepidation, "It looks as though this was a local job, but thankfully not an inside one. Agents from the Intranet Interception Agency haven't been able to ascertain just what the attack was looking for, but they have been able to pinpoint the attack came from somewhere within the city of Myrle."

Haarvekord interjected, "Perhaps we should be careful about exactly how far we take this investigation. Although the news reports around the Overpopulation memo are on the downswing, we shouldn't do anything too drastic to give the media even more license to turn the screws on us."

"Duly noted, but I want to make sure that it does get fully investigated," responded Elliot, "the timing of this attack leaves too many questions unanswered a lot of conspiracies open to scrutiny. Once the SID is remotely confident to begin more 'personalized' operations, I want to make sure any legal roadblocks are out of the way well before then. Notify the Constitutional Court of our request, and make sure that our documentation is as thorough as possible; if we can do it, let's try to limit the damage to what has already been affected. Agreed?"

Both directors nodded respectfully, and the holographic projection of the conference slowly faded back into the reality of Elliot's bedroom. After nearly one hundred hours without rest, the Central Director was enveloped completely by his bed and promptly fell into a fitful sleep.

OOC: Lord, Elliot, this is quite the flurry of posts from you! Another corporate decision will be posted tomorrow... if I can keep up. :)

Four Hundred Ninety West 217th Street: Myrle, Schultaria Prime

Amidst the rather ordinary and plain looking glass box skyscrapers, the McKittridge Building stood out like a willow tree in the middle of a field. It was a lasting testament to the city's past and meticulously maintained, all the way from the solid brass cornerstone to the gilded figurines gracefully overlooking the peak of the tower's vaulted top. At forty five stories it was the smallest building in a twelve block radius, but its imposing black granite pillars and white marble overlays harkened back to the days of the Mesopotamian Ziggurat and Roman Forum but with a distinctly Victorian flair. Indeed everything about the building, including its residents, remained a permanent anachronism to the dynamic and perpetually changing world of the Schultarian Socialist Democracy.

One didn't have to look too far to see the kinds of people that would call such an austere place home. Wearing oppressively complicated suits and dresses covered by equally bulky coats, they openly defy the Schultarian culture by living and socializing in the fashions and traditions of the past. Most refuse to work and instead live off the vast fortunes their grand and great grandfathers reaped in the waning days of the Sooltarian corporate oligarchy. Eternally wealthy and without anything to occupy their waking hours, many of the tenants spend most of their days discussing politics or holding small support meetings for their conservative allies around the city. For the most part the city and national government left them alone, save for the occasional building inspection or property tax assessment; for Porter, this building was a perfect base of operations.

"Lazy minds awake and deep pockets unfurled," he thought, quoting the Schultarian economist Joachim Fering, "equal chances to take to rule the world." Altunis, although the polls in Schultaria never showed it, proved himself to be the avid politician and quite the charmer amongst the wealthy residents of the McKittridge Oligarchs, and for good reason. Acutely aware of the vast, untapped, capital of this seemingly endless family wealth, Porter had made it his mission to use it to better the Conservative movement, and him, in the process of creating a new Schultarian government. With equal parts charisma and rabid animosity, he was often invited to speak as a representative of the Sooltar Indaata at formal functions. Today was one of those days.

Stepping into the windowless ballroom on floor thirty six to speak in front of three hundred of his closest supporters, he delivered his usual rousing speech. A speech, as some newspapers would later call, that "spelled the war cry to action for all Conservative elements in Schultaria Prime."

"Today, dear guests and beloved friends, I do believe that we are approaching a brand new and wonderful day where we can once again be free of the national yoke. Today the great Sooltar Indaata Party has seen its opportunity to bring back the glory of the past, and we shall not look back in seizing what is most deservedly hours."

He paused for a second while the cheers and applause from the crowd subsided, and then continued seemingly undeterred.

"While we have waited patiently for decades to see the return of our way of life here, we've seen our beloved nation fall from the economic institutions we loved so dearly. For years we hoped that one day Sooltaria, the last remnants of the life we once had, would again grow strong and be able to best this government and buy back our history. Unfortunately, though cruel fate and poor management by the blasted fools of the Smith family, the once great nation of Sooltaria has become all but a mere peasant to the Schultarian juggernaut. Even the nation's name, itself a source of strength and proud corporate power, has been all but erased. Where once the pride that was Sooltaria stood, a weak and anarchic 'Islandia Schultaria' now replaces our proud heritage; this can not be the fate of something so beautiful!"

The members of the audience began to hiss at the mention of Islandia Schultaria; many still had family members who had lost almost all of their property and wealth in the transfer while others just simply had deep seeded hatred of the Schultz family. None of this really mattered to Porter; after all, the more negative emotion he could generate the more he could exploit.

"Fear not my friends, for we are on the verge of a great breakthrough! Four days ago, through sources loyal to the Sooltar Indaata, we struck our first serious blow to the socialist establishment. And what are they doing now? Why they're reeling like a wounded animal, licking their cuts and retreating into the corner! In fact, as we speak, even more loyal supporters of this establishment are beginning to systematically strike at the government exposing them for the power hungry jackals that they are! However I, we, need your help to make sure our fight is not in vain..."

Before he could finish his speech, the crowd rose to its feet, every member pulling out their wallet to donate for the cause. All Porter could do was point and smile while the mob did the rest of the work. "Hello money, and hello power!"

OOC:

Writer's block is holding me back today, but I would like to BUMP the thread to increase coverage (and perhaps even allow for some people to hop in within reason).

OC: Err... You want me to leave? I've posted once, but it is impossible to keep up. I'll try to post another later today.

Porter Altunis' Personal Sedan: Myrle, Schultaria Prime

"I must say Geena that was one of the easiest sales in my life," beamed a jovial Porter as he stepped into his personal chauffer driven car, "You know I could probably sell them on just about anything, provided that it's against the Schultz family."

A slight chuckle and a smile came from the driver as they pulled away from the McKittridge; merging seamlessly into traffic Geena Wallen, Mr. Altunis' most trusted personal assistant and private taskmaster, set up her portable operations center in the rear of the car. While Porter was busy discussing travel arrangements and meeting dates with the chauffer, Wallen was busy processing the contribution reports from the Oligarchs. "Holy damn," she thought as the totals began to compound themselves, "my boss could raise an army with this kind of cash!" Of course all Altunis could hear was the rattle of Geena's data tablet... and a small gasp.

"Well, I see you're busy working on the finances," he mused with a toothy smile curling around his salivating mouth, "tell me, if you would be so kind, just how much money we are looking at right now?"

Eyes and mouth agape, Geena stuttered with absolute excitement; for years she had served faithfully under the Indaata through tough times and good, but never had she seen such a collection of such beautiful, divine, news in her life. Pulling out a small holodisc she affixed the smooth chrome bauble to the front of her personal tablet, and began to visualize several of the more "favorable" projections. Stuttering with excitement, she couldn't bring herself to say the words he wanted to hear.

"Well, out with it Geena! Just what do we have?"

Only one subdued and slightly exasperated word drifted out of her mouth.

"Billions"

OOC: The two messages listed below are the two aWen factions, and are directed to whom they are... listed for.

aWen Schultarian Offices

Edreni didn't so much walk down the hallway as fly down it; her feet seemed to be floating off the ground, and from the activity she could see around the aWen Corp. offices it didn't seem to apply just to her. Everyone, from the rich junior executive something-or-another to the lowliest mangerial secretary, an energy seemed to fill the air as nowhere before. A lull, akin to the eye of a typhoon, seemed to follow the meeting, but now a drive was behind every action, every phone call, every copy machine.

An older man, who seemed to fill his suit to the breaking point knocked Edreni into a motivation poster that lined the hall (TEAMWORK) as he rushed by, his tie flapping behind him like a dying fish. The similie appeared irrestible to Edreni, and she almost called after to him to deliver a reprimand when she saw his great bulk come to a dead stop before Ferrarin. The two entered a hushed but overtly important conversation, each gesturing furiously as they yelled without volume.

Ferrarin. The man was arguing with Ferrarin. Edreni began to slowly walk up the hallway towards them, trying to look nonchalant as she did so. The fact that the short, fat man with the grey beard had the audacity- well, position- to argue with Ferrarin, the Chief Designwerks Liason piqued her interest. She had never seen this man before, and he was undeniably important, so he must be from the HQ at Lindim. Which meant that aWen was really taking this seriously, though Edreni still wasn't sure what the big deal over the leak was-

"It's just before the release, though!"

Edreni slowed her walking as the pair's conversation floated in hearing range, though who was saying what still eluded her.

"I don't care, we have to jump ship. I've been smelling rot in the Schultarian-"

"If there is rot, it can wait. The palm tree lasts long, remember the old saying? We buy a load of Designwerks stock before our Sand Project goes public, ride the wave to the crest, and sell before any collapse of Schultaria happens."

Ferrarin shook his head emphatically. Edreni slowed her pace down even more, approaching them at a creep. They both seemed unaware of her.

"No, we can't wait. Whoever is doing this- I suspect capitalizt elements, somehow surviving in this Sea forsaken socialist country, won't want to work with a supporter of Elliot. I say we fuck Elliot, dig deeper into this, and take a short term fall for the long term success. We could be in a very good position with-"

The fat man exhaled so heavily that Edreni panicked for a moment, afraid he was having a heart attack. But no, it was just a sigh.

"Ferry, I want you to listen to me! Nothing's going to happen! There's a reason Elliot is where he is!"

"And there's a reason where he isn't! Certain Schultarian elements are in a position to acquire wealth that actually appears on our radar!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Listen, the Sand Project is going to take aWen beyond every other competitor. We're going far with this one, and I can't risk all the R&D we put into it, much less my position as CDO, for your paranoid... paranoias!"

Ferrarin barked a hoarse laugh. "Oh, so this is all for your position huh? Is that it? Fucking Chief Development Officer of the Fucking company for your Fucking mansion.? Is that all this is?"

The fat man roared a response so loud Edreni couldn't hear the individual words, and both stomped off down the hall in opposite directions, the fat man knocking over Edreni again.

Edreni just stared.

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

Communique to Designwerks Director
The aWen Corporation is interested to discussing future strategic paths for our partnership, particularly in the acquisition and distribution of liquid assets and shares. We thank you for your cooperation and look forward to a prosperous enterprise with you.

Dee
Deputy Designwerks Liason

Communique to Altunis's Secretary
A phone number for Mr. Altunis, who appears to be active in certain quarters. 244-731-1094.

-Ferrarin, of the aWen Corporation

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

Ferrarin's Offices

A smile was on his face, despite that stupid fat man. Ferrarin knew more than he had told, and was going to act on it. It was time Schultaria got rid of their oppresive Socialist government, and put in a new Capitalizt system. aWen was going to come out of this as a major player, not just in economics, but in world politics.

Be it financially or militarily, aWen would win, with his leadership.

Click. Ferrarin closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, letting the radio's litany of the stock market fill the air like the fragrance of so many flowers.

Office of the Central Directorate - Two Days Later

Fully rested and emotionally stabilized, Elliot returned to the business of running the nation under the guise of a full recovery. Although he hated that his press corps took such liberties in disguising his renowned family temper, he understood that in uncertain times discretion should take precedence over potential shortcomings. In the highly charged political atmosphere of Schultarian politics anything and anyone was fair game, and he knew how close the edge he had truly come; although the government and the media sprang away from the topic almost as soon as it was on air, he knew it could only be a prelude to something larger. It couldn't have been coincidence that the attacks on the SID and the leak from the Interior Ministry were somehow inexorably linked, but so far no one in the intelligence community had any stable leads.

Reclining in his high back chair, Elliot chatted calmly with Directors Covey and Haarvekord during their usual morning strategy session. Even though Elliot could just have easily scheduled the meeting through one of the hololines, he couldn’t get enough of the feeling that a live meeting produced. Letting out a stifled yawn he smiled lazily and placed his hands behind his head, a sign of contentment, while he listened to the morning's news through the filter of his subordinates. When the subject of the aWen proposal surfaced, the Central Director listened cautiously to the text of the letter. "They want WHAT? Surely they know how Designwerks is run, they couldn't be that ignorant to know that it's state property," were his first thoughts to the suggestion of acquiring Schultarian liquid assets, but they were not the first words he suggested.

After hearing the aWen offer in its full context, Elliot decided that the decision could not fall squarely on his shoulders. The subject of Designwerks' transformation of their export operations into Designwerks Internationale, even in local political circles, was a delicate matter. For the Central Directorate, as well as the nation at large, Designwerks was the largest physical manifestation of Schultarian government and industry; with nearly full dominance of every primary manufacturing, construction, and research sector, the economic livelihood of the nation depended on the independent wealth of the company. If they became too reliant on foreign capital or materials, the independence of Schultarian foreign policy, as well as the economic survival of some three hundred and eighty million employees, would be in serious jeopardy.

"Joan. Sarnow. As both Central Director and CEO of Designwerks, I want to know your ideas on the Lindimese proposal; what would be your course of action?"

Both Directors stared rather blankly at Elliot while they struggled to come up with a solution that would have the least potential impact on the well being of the nation at large. After about three minutes of tortured silence, Joan spoke up; "I feel that maybe we should just defer on the offer until we have a better realization of how D.I. will be fully established. After all, Designwerks Internationale has been drawing some particular interest from other supporting nations, most notably Ryloss, Greenmanbry, Sarzonia, Vastiva, and Nova Hope, and it's not as though we should neglect their investments as well."

Elliot nodded, "That sounds like the most sensible course of action for the moment. If there's nothing else for now, I'll meet you in four hours for our lunch session."

-----

A Holomessage on Behalf of The State Industries of Schultaria Prime: Designwerks

"Hello, and I hope this message is well received by our Lindimese associates working towards the common good here in Schultaria Prime. As Central Executive Officer of the State Industries of Schultaria Prime and primary designer of Designwerks economic policy, we would like to notify you that we have received your communiqué and come to a general consensus that further, personalized, discussion would be not only preferred but essential given the gravity of the topics you wish to discuss. Please contact us as soon as possible to arrange such a meeting, and we will do our utmost to try and discuss strategies of mutual benefit."

Elliot M. Schultz
-CEO of The State Industries of Schultaria Prime: Designwerks
-Central Director of Schultaria Prime

Headquarters of the Sooltar Indaata Conservative Party

Porter sat in his small tenth floor office soaking in the scenic Myrle riverside vista outside the large panoramic plate windows of his office. Despite the raucous activity of his fellow party members down the hall, he was more concerned with watching the passing ferries and tourists than with business affairs. Such times of peace and quiet, especially in the last few days, were too few and far between for the ambitious Islanian immigrant, but he relished his breathers despite his rather public desire to show off his hard working ethic. Taking a few long puffs on his cigar, he snuffed it out in the glass ashtray beside his swivel chair reducing the proud and stout tobacco to a stub of smoldering embers. With a slight chuckle, he turned his desk and pondered over the pile of red hot ashes.

"... much like I'll do to you and your grandfather's precious ideas Elliot..."

The silence of his gloating was broken by the familiar voice of Geena, his trusted second in command.

"Porter, could I talk with you for a moment? I just want to go over the final numbers and discuss some minor contractual points," she said confiding in a casual, yet formal, melody, "You know how it is with financial transactions, just make sure to place your palm print on the screen and the McKittridge donations will all be taken care of. Oh, and we received a phone number from the aWen corporation; you know, the Lindimese capitalists."

"Ah yes, they have a local operation based in the nation right? Perhaps you would do the honor for me and call them about their business?"

Geena nodded curtly, "I'll make sure to contact them as soon as you finish up the necessary paperwork." Presenting the data tablet, she waited for Porter to finish reading the terms of the contract.

Altunis' eyebrows lifted as he took a look at the accounts. "Antartican and Yemini banks; just what exactly are we doing with this money," retorted the somewhat confused as slightly infuriated head of the Indaata, "This money is party funding it must stay here otherw..."

Geena cut him off in mid sentence and whispered to the point of hissing, "If this money was to suddenly just be placed in our usual national accounts, don't you think that the government would get just a little bit suspicious?" All Porter could do was nod; even though he disliked the nation's leadership, he didn't see it as a reason to break the law. However, in his heart of hearts, he knew that politics had to trump electoral law in this case. The generous donations made by the Oligarchs had to be secured; they would be too precious to the party's future and his personal vendetta.

Sighing, he reluctantly placed his hand flat on the screen while the tablet transferred the money to half a dozen accounts in Greenmanbry and Vastiva far from the prying eyes of the Schultarian electoral establishment. Of course this transfer wouldn't have been free; accounts of this magnitude had to be covered up by all means necessary. "Just how much did we have to bribe to keep these accounts under wraps," he said with a bemused curiosity.

"It was pretty steep, we had to make sure that the accounts were both untraceable and readily accessible by our sources," replied the taskmaster, "to do this we had to virtually bribe just about every bank manager and president. In terms of money, it cost us quite a bit; roughly 60 million merlons on both sides."

Porter nearly choked on his own tongue, "120 million? I hope that it was worth it! Just how much are we really talking about that would require this much secrecy?"

Geena smiled broadly, "You must have drugged them to get this kind of money. Even after the bribes we were able to squeeze about six and a half billion merlons from their wallets. Compared to your last fundraising efforts, that's about a hundred times more than average. You planning to start a revolution?"

"Perhaps Geena, perhaps... Maybe we should hear why the Lindimese have taken such an interest in the affairs of our little party all of a sudden."

-----

Phone message from Porter Altunis: Chairman of the Sooltar Indaata

"Hello Mr. Ferrarin, I just wanted to say that I have received your telephone number and have decided to take the time and say hello.

Given that your message was a bit brief and that you appear to be out at the moment I would like you to know that if you wish to contact me, my office is open for calls during regular business ours Monday through Friday. If you need the phone number, I'm sure that your secretarial staff would have all the relevant Indaata phone listings; otherwise, you can send me a message through electronic mail or my second in command, Geena Wallen.

Have a pleasant day Mr. Ferrarin, and I hope to hear from you soon."

“… and an additional sixty million as – and this is priceless – bribes from someone within Schultaria Prime. To keep the transactions completely quiet, no less.”

Arvald Durning rubbed his hands together - a habit which had cut his career as a poker player very short. If they knew where that money was really going, they’d be sheer panicked – but then again, the Schultarians haven’t paid any attention to the Vastivan taps in their nation for years. “Scholarly research”, magic words. Say them, and a Schultarian’s brain turns off.

As the CFO of the vast Vastivan Credit Union, Arvald regularly oversaw accounts in the hundreds of trillions – purchases of oil tankers, mining rights, copyright agreements, manufacturing contracts….

One point six trillion had been moved out of Vastivan observation, the better to allow it to be used for… more reasonable purchases. And yet, and yet, and yet… he chortled to himself. And yet those heathens of the Accounting Bureau do nothing, see nothing, know nothing… .

He considered the other folder on his desk, and nearly laughed aloud. The Grand Vizier himself had given Arvald the duty of reassembling the Schultarian “Designwerks” project from a half-birthed disaster waiting to happen, to something Vastiva could – at the very least – use to move the untold billions of tons of… contraband? Salvage?... from their deep bunkers to the world at large.

And at a profit, nothing less.

How much of Operation: Polar Thunder had already been diverted to “Operation Scaramanga” was locked away in a physically separated computer, locked away… and in plain sight.

The numbers were still beautiful.

He considered the figures the Schultarian’s had considered a ‘bribe’. At current exchange, just over forty million Polar Crowns – yet, with the Schultarian’s fingerprints all over it…

Oh, that was worth oh so much more. Locked in his desk was the conversion of Schultarian Merlons to United Nations Stable Dollars to Vastivan Polar Crowns – proof positive of whatever he said it was proof of, document after document after document…

He stifled a laugh with a glass of cold apple juice – crisp, clean, sharp.

Schultarian.

He laughed anyway.

==

The IDDG's intelligence agencies were not at all pleased with what they heard on Halifax. The news story was not published in Greenmanbry, and very few government figures were aware of the developments in the USSSP, but some powerful individuals, extremely intersted in the turn of events, were desperately trying to twist as many arms as possible to get more information about the broadcast.

In the Nubian Complex, the War Room was quiet. It was vacant save for two individuals resting comfortably in two chairs near the head of the table, talking quietly.

"Do we know anything else about this?"

"No. Nothing at all. The Schultarians are being very secretive about everything related to this story."

"So... we have one broadcast. Absolutely no info. What problems can a nation as capable as Schultaria Prime possibly face?"

"Well, they are concerned about overpopulation."

"What? I've read every damned paper and I did not come across any mention of that. Which intelligence report contains that piece of info?"

"Intelligence reports? Heh. It's in their public factbook. The whole world knows."

"Interesting. Can it be related to overpopulation?"

"Maybe. You never know. They do occupy a very small area of land, compared to us, and we're smaller than them. And they are not imperialists, so-"

"Are they trying to become imperialists?"

"I don't know. I guess so. At least, that's the only possible way Greenmanbry's administration would overcome a similar problem. We would capture a new territory and kill a few hundred thousand of our own idiots in the process."

"Can't we intercept and decode transmissions from their embassy to the mainland?"

"Honestly, Edgar, stop brooding over war plans and get out of your office once for Satan's sake! Their embassy is still a pile of rotting debris. They haven't fixed it, and we haven't got around to doing that for them yet. Besides, even if it was not a heap of ruined crap, we wouldn't be able to decode their transmissions. You know these people. They are so advanced even the Lord himself can't mess around with their technology. We can barely operate the satellites that we bought from them, let alone decode their messages!"

"Will we take this matter to Krekar, or the Chamber?"

"No. If they want help, let them seek it. They want to keep it secret, fine, none of our business."

The ring of a cellular phone broke the hushed conversation.

"Hello, Ison here... Very well, my Lord, Edgar and I will be with you as soon as possible."

==

Ahmed's eyes shifted nervously, meeting everyone else's, as he walked through the revolving doors that led him into the Nasr building, his bank's headquarters in the city of Sana'a. Are people watching me? Do they know about th- he stopped, his briefcase falling from his hand. He swung his neck furiously, in every direction, his forehead and palms drenched with sweat.

Someone is watching.

His instincts forced him to look to his left, and there, in the corner, was the bank's president, staring directly at him. W..Why is he here? When did he start leaving his office? He felt his body tense up as his legs started visibly shaking, no longer capable of holding his weight. He quickly knelt down to pick up his briefcase before walking briskly towards the elevators. He saw the doors of an elevator opening, and he darted towards it.

It was packed. Ahmed cursed under his breath. He waited for another elevator. As soon as another pair of doors opened, he rushed into the lift, resting one hand on the guard-rail while the second hit the "Close Door" button repeatedly. The sense of nervousness was so overwhelming that it only began to subside after he closed the doors to his office behind him. He threw his briefcase on the sofa and sat at his desk, his head in his hands, desperately trying to calm himself down.

The door slowly opened, and Ahmed looked up to find the bank's president blocking the only way out of the office. Rising from his chair, the middle-aged executive tried to compose himself, standing up straight to greet the man who far outranked anyone else in the building. Paying no heed to Ahmed's salaam, the president simply closed the door to the office and made himself comfortable in a leather armchair across from Ahmed's desk. A bald, stocky man in his late fifties, he did not speak for a while, making Ahmed all the more nervous.

The old man opened his mouth, and his words came out slowly but firmly, "This country..... is full..... of corrupt people." His eyes were fixed on the carpet, never looking up to witness Ahmed's reaction.

"From the bastards at the top.. to the bank executives.. to the officers in uniform.. to the laymen on the street. Corruption runs in the veins of Greenmanbry's population. Corruption..... that can make us do..... unthinkable things. Like devastating the lives of other people..... like undermining the stability of another nation, a close ally, even."

Ahmed, still standing behind his desk, was a nervous wreck by that point, so devastated and scared that he thought the quickening pace of his heartbeats was audible. How did he know? I was very careful throughout the entire ordeal. I followed their instructions. No one could have found out about this! There was a long pause which was once again broken by the firm voice of the bald man, "I can see that they got to you too.."

Too? Ahmed thought, involuntarily raising his eyebrows, What's he implying? Did he get money as well? Or did other executives get bribed along with me?

"I got a share," the president stood up, answering Ahmed's questions as if he read the executive's mind. Their eyes met for the first time. "And so did others in this bank..... And so did some powerful friends of mine." Ahmed was both surprised and relieved by the words of the bald man. "The money is safe. You handled the entire storing thing good. I believe you understand their terms." The president looked at the carpet once again, before turning and heading for the door.

"Sir. I have a question." Ahmed said, forcing the old man to stop and turn around.

"How far up the ladder did they manage to get? Does the gover-"

"Very far, son."

"What will happen?"

"I don't know. We're bankers, not politicians. We store their money. The government of Schultaria Prime can go to hell, for all I care."

==

Schultarian Intelligence Directorate Headquarters - Internal Division (SID - 2)

Almost immediately after the situation had been contained, the Central Archives and Intranet Intercept divisions had been closed down to all but the most senior agents and civilian advisors with the proper security clearance. Unfortunately for Vonno, he had neither qualification; in fact, he was still a week away from earning his full agency credentials. As the rest of his coworkers helped to patch up loose ends and pour over the terabytes of recorded data logs, he would be stuck spending his valuable working time in the cafeteria twiddling his thumbs and playing Voluchess* with himself. With no power to protest his inaction he would be forced to stay away for as long as the intelligence chiefs requested, and he had no willingness to challenge that decision. He knew the penalties for violating privacy laws in the SID, and all of them involved solutions more "permanent" than he cared to consider.

Meanwhile in the vast, darkened, underbelly of the Schultarian Intelligence Directorate leaders from three of the five agencies: SID-2, SID-5, and SID-8, met in a small workroom overlooking the Central Archives. As several dozen technicians were busy opening and inspecting the massive supercomputers for tampering, the three elderly agents sat behind a wide window overlooking the progress. Their presence masked by a nearly perfect holoprojection of the polished white walls of the SID's core, they were free to point out discrepancies in security in absolute private. Save for four electrical sockets, the door, and the hidden window the room was intentionally disconnected to the outside world. An ideal space, as far as the three were concerned, to contemplate strategy.

The head of the Internal Division was the first to cut the tense silence, his raspy and feeble voice melting into the air. "We should have seen this a long time ago, we were lucky that nothing was lost otherwise..."

"Otherwise we would all be politically dead now," the chief of SID-8 tersely responded, "You know the price of compromising the SID; immediate termination of everything: pension, birth records, citizenship, nothing short of complete dismissal of our lives. We were damn lucky G group was able to implant that tracer loop into the system otherwise we'd be blind to another attack."

"Of course, and thanks to your group we now have several leads," meekly replied the elderly gentleman from the Internal Division, "Our agents have finally pinned down the attack to three addresses, all of which will be targeted and searched before the break of dawn tomorrow."

The leader of SID-5 paid little attention to the bickering and boring discussion of her coworkers; as head of the "special projects" division, she held the ultimate trumps in the Schultarian intelligence community. Her reach extended well beyond the mental grasp of her colleagues and then some. From intercepting private foreign research and military communiqués from Schultaria to conducting black ops missions against agents from other SID divisions, SID-5 was the Government's be all to end all intelligence squad. And nearly all of them were members of the SAH**: trustworthy, selfless, and most of all dedicated to the cause of making sure Schultarian interests were in line with the people's survival and nothing less. It was seldom that she ever saw, let alone talked, to the other divisions for fear of compromise, but current events trumped any personal derision. Meanwhile, the two other directors finished their little chat and were beginning to discuss other matters of business.

"So, what do you think about the excess traffic to Vastiva? Seems a little suspicious to me..."

"I swear you local agents are too obsessed about data volume and not the content; our agents have analyzed it extensively. The only thing they're guilty of in this case would be overdue library fines; none of the data they have is of any extremely secretive strategic or private value, and most of the information is at least a generation behind Eldaimovey's current research. Hell, I'd personally deliver the entire archives in a nice little gilded data crystal myself if they asked for it!"

The three let out a small chuckle. "Well what's news from the fifth division," inquired the SID-8 director, "obviously you wouldn't have come unless there's the possibility of something more... sinister at hand."

Nodding she replied, "Of course, you always have to expect plans to be deeper than they really are until you get more information. Speaking of which, might I have your duty roster from two days ago for the SID-2 I.I. division?"

"Sure, anything to help put an end to this annoyance."

-----

In the cafeteria, a rather rugged looking man pulled up a chair next to Vonno while firmly in the middle of his round of Voluchess. Deep in thought, the would-be agent didn't notice he had a guest until after he made his move. "I'm sorry, I guess I just get too involved in the game," he bashfully replied with a small nervous laugh.

"Nothing to be ashamed of Mr. Cotomai, we all have our quirks."

Vonno was taken aback; he had never seen or met this man in his life, yet he knew his name without any ID. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met Mr..."

"My apologies, call me Jurgend; I know that we haven't met, but I can tell you that you've made quite the impression with certain members of the SID. I'm here to offer you a job with another division that can appreciate your multitalented abilities; one that you've always wanted."

"I'm listening..."

-----

** SAH: Sacred Architects of Humanity

*Voluchess: A modern Schultarian variant of chess which employs the standard rules and practices of normal chess along with three dimensional and time induced variances. The most notable difference would be the basic player units: unlike chess with pieces that only possess three static functions (capture / check / checkmate), this game places heavy importance of multi level combat, economy, and research though pieces that focus on specialized, non-combat, roles.

OOC:

Writer's block is once again rearing its ugly head; I spent the majority of my writing faculties in four hours worth of history final examinations, but I would like to BUMP the thread to allow for others to read the story thus far.

USSSP INTL-DIR: DATPAK (SI091) [TIMESTP 17-05 116SDC]

-SENSITIVE FILE: LEVEL 10 SECURITY CLEARANCE-

United Socialist States of Schultaria Prime
Schultarian Intelligence Directorate - Internal Division (SID - 2)
Schultarian Intelligence Directorate - Special Projects (SID - 5)
Schultarian Intelligence Directorate - International Division (SID - 8)

-Subject Reply: Incursion Memorandum Review

This report, compiled by the interdependent agencies of SID divisions two, five, and eight, has been reviewed comprehensively by the central authorities responsible for each division. By the integrity of the Schultarian Intelligence Directorate and the stipulations of the Codes of Logical Disclosure, all information within this report is deemed suitable for free and full disclosure to all individuals with the above listed security clearance. Declassification of said materials rests solely within the bounds of the National Assembly; all intelligence reports at this level of classification are subject to retention, change, and/or alteration of any potential release by act of Assembly.

-In regards to physical evidence concerning the incursion:
Examination of various free floating and fixed data has been conducted on over 9.114*10^12 bytes of processed transfer signals with an error rate of 1 byte per 1.0485*10^16 bytes of exchanged information. All pertinent telecomm records, including signal volume summaries, server trace routes, and physical backups, which show significance to our investigation have been incorporated into our investigation. Most data involved concerns direct attempts to access the SID intranet and includes extensive amounts of information concerning traffic that either attempted to access the Intelligence Directorate or data expulsed to the general Schultarian telecommunications infrastructure from within our internal networks.

-This report represents the primary analysis as given our current understanding of the incursion from pre-detection to one hour prior the memorandum's publication.

-Analysis and detection of the invasive element:
Analysis conducted on the data suggests that the incursion was indeed targeted specifically at the Schultarian Intelligence Directorate (SID); all gathered records from other government agencies of the time surrounding the incursion show no evidence of forced data entry. From the trace routes provided by Section - Intranet Intercept: SID-2, the attack appeared as reliable mainframe data in concert with monthly central archive procedures. The assault was not identified as erroneous or alien by the primary telecomm defenses due to the ease and reliability of replication for the data miner in question. Entry logs from other government servers within the central government verify the data miner was present in every agency's databanks. However, this attack was only intended to activate upon verification of the SID's mainframe signature which was readily provided as per access protocols.


Detection of the intruder was possible despite the sophisticated replication routines and masking of the program's true nature. What exposed the code to alarms by the SID were the data miner's internal search and retrieve functions. These operations utilized older and outmoded data access protocols along with brute force password decryption analysis subroutines; from most preliminary interpretations of the virulent program's code, these particular sections appear to be three to seven generations removed from the program's advanced shell. Indications lead the SID to believe this portion of the attacking software was self manufactured or designed by the perpetrator. This evidence has been catalogued in the central electronic virus databank for further analysis to help assist in understanding the organizers of the attack.

-Nature of the attack and suggestions in potential courses of action:
From comprehensive examination of both the program's code and the detailed file paths provided by SID-2, analysts have been able to determine this attack was designed as a method of specific and precise data retrieval. Also, it intended to record, transmit, and corrupt any items considered pertinent to its mission; to preserve the data of the SID archives, the miner was detected and isolated well before it could initiate its recording cycle. Thanks to the efforts of Section - G Group: SID-8, the virulent program was forced to assimilate a hardware tracer program before it could return with falsified data.


The subject of the data miner's queries, based on the hard evidence of the program code, suggest a detailed investigation into the surveillance activities of the SID in the megalopolis of Myrle. Due in part to the pervasiveness of the G Group tracer programs, it appears the attackers also hold permanent operational presences within the subject city's surface urban core.


At this time, based on both the nature of the attack against the SID and the amount of evidence prepared to justify cause, we in the Schultarian Intelligence Directorate request that powers of seizure and investigation are granted to our institution as per the stipulations of the Konductus Thaologim. If approved, all procedures will be followed to insure a thorough, efficient, and constitutionally legal investigation.

-END MEMORANDUM-

The two masked and armored OPS-3 troopers swung into the office as a unit, firing their FNP90's to good effect.

SPI shells blew apart the computer monitors, holed windows, ate into shelved books and blasted apart the panelling of the small closet.

Miraculously, the fishtank was still intact at the end of the clips.

~Damn, we missed them.~
~Not by much~ The second raised a slightly damp finger. ~Coffee is still warm.~

~[crackle]PURSE, this is KEY. We missed them, but not by much. Building is sealed, but I doubt very much we'll catch them here.~
~Confirmed, KEY. Proceed on search pattern, we're sending a forensic team up.~
~Confirmed, PURSE. Out~ ~You want to go first?~
~RSP for it?~
~Deal~

OOC: I think, in the interests of keeping this story on a somewhat active timeline, I'll step over some of the lesser details and jump ahead in the storyline. For any participants, and I hope some might show up in the next few days, if you want to include background and you want to know some of the particulars leading up to this post please contact me as soon as possible.

-----

IC:

"Mention the term 'Right Wing' to an Architect... well, it's best not to dwell with such terrible ideas ."

-Themr Oligowvey: A Modern History of Schultarian Thought: (SDC 0 - 650)


-----

Headquarters of the Sooltar Indaata Conservative Party: Myrle, Schultaria Prime (Four Months After the SID Incursion)

Inside the austere and elegantly decorated party camp, Porter Altunis retired from the gala celebration downstairs to rest and relax. Secluding himself in his lushly furnished, yet modestly sized tenth floor office, he pulled out a bottle of Cognac and a cigar to toast the night. The last few weeks had been a wild rollercoaster for the Conservatives, but the efforts of Porter's unique style of charisma and management skill had brought his party untold wealth and clout. Though the news reports surrounding the current Directorate administration had already died out for newer and more pertinent stories, the Intaatans could count the damage inflicted. Best of all, it appeared to be enough to shake up things in the National Assembly; even with only one seat in the Schultarian government, Porter had led the charge to lead further humiliating investigation of the government's social activities.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't Mr. Schultz," he whispered to the wrinkled portrait of the Central Director, his hands in a firm clasp with those of Porter's father.

Meanwhile, three blocks away from the historic brick and mortar headquarters, Vonno Cotomai set up shop safely tucked away in a blue moving van nestled in a non-descript alley. Newly introduced into the world of SID-5, his orientation had been a rushed affair; even with his years of training in the worlds of SID-2 and 8, he was still very much the greenhorn of the organization. He had been plucked away from the rest of the Schultarian Intelligence Directorate just weeks before his graduation as a full agent, not that it mattered in this line of work, but somehow he still felt woefully incomplete. Of course, being a member of SID-5, his identity was deleted even before he knew his line of work; almost as soon as he decided to join, Vonno ceased to exist as a citizen of the Schultarian state. Like the rest of the members in his team they were ghosts to the outside world, their organization the stuff of speculation and conspiracy.

As Porter relaxed in his personal sanctum, little did he suspect the room had been "saturated" by members of the SID in several unrelated investigations. A dozen monitors tracked hundreds of pieces of information about the Conservative leader's private world, and all of this intently monitored by Cotomai; as the "tech man" of the squad he would probably never see any action, but that didn't matter to him. To the rest of the group, most of them perched on neighboring roofs adjacent to the party building, he was their lifeline... their eyes and ears. Nothing sounded more satisfying to the young technician than the job description, and he made sure to fit the bill to a t. Adjusting his headset, Vonno called for status check with the rest of the members of the company; only the team leader replied.

"Foundation stone has been laid, begin construction. Foundation stone has been laid, begin construction; we are at full commitment, maintain constant update."

OOC:

I would like to BUMP the thread to increase coverage (and perhaps even allow for some people to hop in within reason). Hopefully everyone who's read this so far is enjoying the storyline.

Pandora's Sparrow ~coughed~ once, sending a cloud of 0.3mm flechettes into her target's chest. Designed to penetrate the armor vests of most nations, the payload had no trouble at all with the suit, shirt, and - remarkably present - undershirt.

He stumbled, shocked, dropped the glass he had been holding, and died rather suddenly, his entire nervous system overwhelmed by far beyond lethal doses of crystalized anhydrotetrodotoxin 4-epitetrodotoxin.

She considered the body for a few minutes, considering. The datacube she'd gotten of his "talking" about the ends of his particular faction had been interesting... and certainly worth the precaution of drugging his drink beforehand with babblejuice.

Now she had a problem. How do you get rid of a body in Schultaria Prime - particularly without someone wondering if he's gone missing?