NationStates Jolt Archive

0000 Hours, Zamyatin Time
Doctrinal Mandate
Author: Benefactorium Highest Council
Speaker: F-1062

“Numerals, you have for so long taken your happiness for granted. Whilst you know the full joys of Living Discipline and the guiding light of the Benefactorium, the rest of the world still lies in darkness. They have laws, but this is but a pale reflection of our glorious Law, as the Moon feebly reflects the Sun. Why are they deprived? Are we so selfish? So self-righteous?

No, Numerals, No! It is our own advancement that has heretofore prevented us from assisting them. We are so fully adapted to Discipline, so fully saturated with that natural state, that we know to accept it – but they are not so fortunate. They have become corrupted by the global pandemic of liberty. Were we to try and cure them all at once, they would vomit it back up and sink worse into their disease. It has always been the aim of the Benefactorium to ensure the supremacy of Law, not only here, but everywhere, but we have not always known how to accomplish it.

But finally, the day of Law’s ascendancy over Chaos is at hand. We have created the Archus Axioms, a book which shall break down our Living Discipline, our Rule of Logic into tenets easily digestible by those who have been weakened by the Plague. Now, in Central, in the Great Airport, one thousand men wait with this book in hand, to journey out into the darkness.

They shall descend into the filthiest sewage pits of humanity, and purge it clean with the antiseptic Archus Axioms. They shall bear the Benefactorium across the face of all the Earth. They shall copy the Axioms, and instruct disciples in its disciplines, and they too shall spread the Axioms. It shall be a worldwide revolution, not under the false banner of Freedom, but under the banner of the One True Cause, that which fully ennobles the human spirit: Law.”

One by one, the planes begin to depart. It is a steady dripping of the antiseptic fluid – the steady departure of the planes, each bearing its cargo of one man and one book to a different nation. The great mission of Zamyat begins.

Benefactorium Foreign Council
Author: Subcommittee 3-C

The following is broadcast by all Zamyatin aircraft approaching foreign airspace, in a reasonably understandable translation from Zamyatin to the official language of the nation they are approaching:

“Attention [NATION], this is Zamyatin craft [SERIAL NUMBER]. We are low on fuel and request permission to land in your nearest airfield. We are unarmed and friendly – we only request permission to land as soon as possible.”

This is Theao aircontrol. There is a landing strip at (co-ordinates) you may land there for refueling. Any devation shall be meet with leathal force. Also any disenmbarkment without official permission shall be meet with leathal force.

Zamyat craft, you are authorized to land at Shen field for refueling and customs, all persons now aboard will be required to undergo a thorough search of their belongings for illicit substances. If you do not comply you and your aircaft will be detained until such time as you either comply with the search or your government expedites your return.

This is Theao aircontrol. There is a landing strip at (co-ordinates) you may land there for refueling. Any devation shall be meet with leathal force. Also any disenmbarkment without official permission shall be meet with leathal force.

Cold sweat begins to issue in torrents from S-1171's forehead as he guides the tiny plane, loaded with barely enough fuel to make the journey from Zamyat to Theao with its cargo, towards the air strip. The training is deep in his muscles, and he makes the minute adjustments to the plane's guidance without having to rely on the mind currently grinding against itself in paradox.

On the one hand, if he gets off the plane and attempts his mission, he has little reason to doubt that the people of Theao will make good on their threat. Then again, if he does not, he has less reason to believe that the Benefactorium will make good on its own threats.

Failure to comply yields reprimand.

I will land. Then I will think.

Zamyat aircraft, this is Alpha Control One-Two-Seven. You have permission to land on strip four at (coordinates), there you may re-fuel and re-supply, but you must be prepared to be boarded. Do you copy?

As the small plane touched down four members of the airport security force prepare in case of a violation or trouble.
"Man that pilot is wack, theres no way any competent pilot should have been able to run out of fuel if they were flying on those tiny planes. So unless they were caught in a major storm or somesuch that pilot should be striped of licence and property."
"You said it sarge."


"This is Air traffic control please provide the necessary fuel type. Also if any people need to medical aid please inform us so we may deploy a medical team."

Inside Republic Airspace

The Radar technician stared at the screen and called over the Commander of the Radar Station in Dowland City.

'Commander, we have an unidentified aircraft requesting an emergency landing at our main airfield.'

The Commander frowned. How could such a small aircraft get lost so far from its own airspace? Still, it was only courtesy to allow the aircraft to land...with proper precautions, of course.

'Alert the Departmant of Defense of this at once. Allow the plane to land at Alpha-One, but scramble the Reaction Teams, seal off the entire airstrip and place us on Amber Alert.'

In the Kingdom of Romandeos, at a civilian airfield near to the northern coast, a seasoned old Radio-Telephone Operator picked up the signal from the plane.

"Boss," he said, calling over his shoulder to his supervisor, "I'm getting a signal here from an aircraft identified as Zamyatin craft [SERIAL NUMER] saying it's low on fuel and requests landing clearance."

His supervisor walked over to him at once.

"Have they transmitted again?" he asked.

"No, sir, just once," the RTO responded.

"Very well," his supervisor said, "Let them land on one of our secondary strips, then seal that strip off with Airport Security. I'm going to call the National Police in on this one. They might want to know about this."

"Right, sir."

Excerpted from the Missionary Manual for the Great Mission:

"The Missionary should not be surprised to encounter extreme xenophobia when beginning his mission. You must keep in mind that the people you shall be meeting will not expect your arrival - much as you would not expect another Numeral to barge into your room during your Sleeping Hours and lecture you on the tenets of Liberty. They do not expect your arrival, but simultaneously, they need it. Speak softly and cautiously to the xenophobes, and do not arouse their wrath. Appeal to the instincts of law which they already possess and build upon them in securing safe entry..."

S-1171 dabs his moist forehead with the sleeve of his uniform, already stained from gray to sopping black with moisture. The Theaol runway is only a kilometer ahead of him now, a last kilometer sparing him from decision. His choice is death at the hands of Theaol police, or torture and denumeralization at the hands of the Benefactorium, and he is not entirely sure which is worse. Or, perhaps a third choice.

He could attempt to follow the mission, as the manual says, softly and cautiously, building upon their instinctual laws. He lifts the craft's microphone to his lips in one quivering hand and sends a message back to Theaol Air Control:

"Greetings, Theao Air Control. This is Es-Eleven-Seven-One piloting Zamyatin Craft Two-Eight-Niner, moving in for final approach. This is an unarmed civilian craft, there is no need for such a hostile response. I am one kilometer out, and will land at the appropriate runway, over."

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

Within a few hundred kilometers of Zamyat, the story is played out much the same way - with pilots greeted by orders to land, prepare for boarding, and submit to national security forces. It is all followed, to the letter, as the pilots carefully try to avoid incident. The searchers will easily find the entire cargo - the pilot, perhaps passengers, and a three-hundred page book of poems: the Archus Axioms.

OOC:
On the planes - like I said, small craft, 1-3 passengers, and for the most part, only one.

AirCon "We apologise for the harsh measures but recently we where hit by a terrorist attack which has nessictated a major increase in security. Also any aircraft without a registered flight plan are considered as hostile until proven otherwise."

AirCon "We apologise for the harsh measures but recently we where hit by a terrorist attack which has nessictated a major increase in security. Also any aircraft without a registered flight plan are considered as hostile until proven otherwise."

S-1171 relaxes a little. The thudding of heart against ribcage subsides to a gentle pulsing. At least there is Order and Reason behind their threats, a System which codifies their behavior. thirty meters remain between him and the ground.

Twenty... ten... five... four... three... two... one...

The bump of landing gear against pavement always catches him off guard, just a quarter of a second later than he expects it. The plane comes to a stop, blowing out a parachute to slow its landing quickly. With the last of its momentum bled away, S-1171 again lifts the microphone to his mouth and says:

"This is Es-Eleven-Seven-One of Zamyat Two-Eight-Niner. I am on the ground and standing by for further orders."

As the small plane landed at the air-strip, the pilot and passengers were asked, firmly but politely by the guards meeting the plane to step out and be searched. Finding nothing but normal equipment and a small religious text, the guards relaxed and called for the airport to go back to Condition Green.

A diplomatic representative came to meet the pilot and passengers and apologised for the inconvenience; security had tightened up as the result of a surge in military funding a few months ago. The the representative politely enquired what the nature of the pilots visit to the country was

OOC:Is this open? If so...
IC:As the Zamyatian plane entered Red Tidean airspace, he was greeted with a full sqaudron of MIG-35s. Their pilots had their eyes trained on the man. "Attention un-identified aircraft. This is the 1002nd Air Superiority Sqaudron. You are not cleared for entry into Red Tidean airspace. Transmitting path to Mereeka Airbase. We will escort you there. Any attempt to deviate will result in being shot down."

OOC: Are the planes carrying like, a few boxes of these books or just one, or just one copy or what?

"All crew please exit the craft. If any there are any other passengers please say so. If any one is in need of medical attention please say so. We will be conducting a full sweep of the plane prior to take off. Any contraband will be confiscated."

OOC Stuff:

OOC: Are the planes carrying like, a few boxes of these books or just one, or just one copy or what?

One per Missionary, which usually just means one.

OOC:Is this open? If so...

Only to the first thousand people who respond. ;)

...a small religious text...

Just to clarify for everyone, that is sort of what the Archus Axioms are like - a religious text deifying Law and machinery.

.::IC::.


"All crew please exit the craft. If any there are any other passengers please say so. If any one is in need of medical attention please say so. We will be conducting a full sweep of the plane prior to take off. Any contraband will be confiscated."

I must not leave, I must not leave. For the time being, he is safe. The plane is free of what is usually considered contraband, possessing only one man and one idea, defined so simply in the Archus Axioms. But S-1171 is not stupid, he can read between the lines, and he knows that the Theaol have no intention of letting him stay on the ground any longer than absolutely necessary to get him off it, and if he submits to this... well... there won't a particularly warm reception awaiting him in Zamyat.

An idea strikes him as he sees Theaol police approaching the plane from across the runway. "This is Zamyat Flight Two-Eight-Niner to AirCon, I am on the runway, I am alone and I am in need of medical attention." Cutting the transmission, he strikes his skull three times on the flight panel, leaving himself bleeding and bruised, and with one thought ringing in his dimming consciousness:

"Stupid... stupid... stupid..."

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

Attention un-identified aircraft. This is the 1002nd Air Superiority Sqaudron. You are not cleared for entry into Red Tidean airspace. Transmitting path to Mereeka Airbase. We will escort you there. Any attempt to deviate will result in being shot down.

E-3333 casts another casual glance at the altimeter, trying to shake off the wriggling feeling in the back of her throat, like a worm knotting itself in response to her edged nerves. The idea of going to an alien culture, knowing little but language and laws, to convert them to the Purity of Order known only in Zamyat, was enough cause for tension. But this? Outright hostility? She takes calming breaths, taps the dials on the flight panel to let off some of the rising terror in her gullet. She knows that every second of delay will only cause the trigger-fingers of the pilots in the approaching fighters to itch further, but it is still all she can do to unknot the throat-worm long enough to say: "This is E-Thirty-Three-Thirty-Three, flight Zero-Zero-Four - acknowledge message - are unarmed - civilian - complying."

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

0100 Hours, Zamyatin Time
Benefactorium Foreign Council Meeting

There is one common feature to the Foreign Council - bags. The weight of this long and sleepless night has pooled in the flesh just under their eyes, causing it to swell and darken with exhaustion. An hour ago, the planes of the Great Mission had begun to launch, within twelve, all those slated for the First Wave will have landed, and it will not be long after that that the nations of the world will realize the approaching craft, off-course and forced to land unintentionally in their airfields is not off-course nor forced to land unintentionally, but directed by their home State. And what then? J-0821, leader of the Foreign Council, takes the podium and with a voice cracking with exhaustion, says, "Well... how in Hell do we explain this?"

"This is Zamyat Flight Two-Eight-Niner to AirCon, I am on the runway, I am alone and I am in need of medical attention."

"Med team, apperantly there is an injured pilot on the Zamyatian flight. Please go deal with it."


As the security team opens the hatch on the plane the ambulance arrives and the medical team get the Zamyatian out and put him in the ambulance to take to the hospital. While this is happening the contraband/bomb squad are examining the plane, they don't find anything other than a few books which having looked at the cover put them back.


ooc: if Zamyatian is incorrect term for citezen of Zamyat please say so
also i was sort of expecting him to stab himself not try to bash his head in

OOC:

ooc: if Zamyatian is incorrect term for citezen of Zamyat please say so
also i was sort of expecting him to stab himself not try to bash his head in

The term is Zamyatin, actually. I expected him to stab himself too, but I figured that he probably didn't have a whole lot of sharp, pointy things in the cockpit and you're probably more likely to hurt yourself in a cockpit bashing your head against something during rough turbulence than getting stabbed. Regardless, I was pretty surprised when it happened. These things happen to me.

.::IC::.

White... Cold... S-1171 feels the stiff gurney and the sterile prodding of paramedics, swimming in a sea of icy pain. His head thunders, roars! A concussion? Probably. Inconceivable: that someone could cause so much pain to themselves. He had hoped that maybe some primal instinct for self-preservation would spare him, but no. The will of the State was strong, so strong even so far away from its source, that it grabbed him all the harder and thrust him in the panel into black... white... cold... fingers... cold... "Books..." he whispers, "books..."

Red Tidean pilots were not known for their icthy trigger fingers... only for their loyalty, fanaticism, and ruthless efficiency. The SU-47s escorted them past the capitols airport. The runways had been turned into smoking craters from multiple cruise missile strikes. Not a single electric light was on in the city. The result of the nuclear power plants in western Red Tide being destroyed. Mereeka airbase was abuzz however... the SU-47s hung around and waited for the small plane to land before landing on seperate runways. When the plane taxied onto the tarmac, a sqaud of Red Tiden soldiers(10 men), breathing behind their metallic gasmasks and peering through their glowing red goggles(intimidation purpose only). They raised their XM-100 Assualt Rifles as they approached the plane. Ready for anything.

"I am coming out of the craft now," says E-3333, warily watching the ten soldiers, their red eyes eerily peering out of the unlit night. She leaves the Axioms on her seat, and slowly opens the hatch. Whatever the soldiers are expecting, it probably isn't a frail woman of no more than five feet, her head devoid of hair save eyebrows. She raises her hands slowly in what she hoped would be a universal gesture of submission and said in broken Red Tidean "My how the chowder flies."

OOC:The airbase has lights... it has its own generator. Also Red Tideans are predominantly Russian.
IC:
The soldiers didnt even flinch or respond to her. They simply walked right past her and into the plane... All except one who approachedn her and said, first in Russian, then in English, "Captain 04432... Alpha Sqaudron, Charlie company, 3rd infantry battalion, 3rd infantry regiment, 4th infantry division... your name?" He said without emotion.

"Don't worry" the paramedic said as they restrained the paitent to the gurney (the ambulance stretcher). "Any non-contraband will be brought to the hospitel." As the Zamyatin was sedatied, the contraband/bomb squad having investigated the plane and not finding any illegal/banned/restricted substances on the plane and having been informed that the Zamyatin would be there for awhile packed up his gear for transport to the hospital.

E-3333 repeated the soldiers words in her mind, breaking them down, slowing them down into manageable, comprehensible bits. Then slowly, mechanically, she gives her response in Russian: "I am E Thirty-Three-Thirty-Three, I am a citizen of the Dominion of Zamyat, I am unarmed, I am not hostile." She only hopes the words make sense to the trooper.

The soldier nodded and then said, "We will be searching your plane anyways... just to determine you are not a spy or anything." Then a soldier emerged from the plane, saluted, and said, "All we found was this book, Captain." He said handing it over the soldier began flipped through the pages nonchalantly... not even looking at them, just checking to see if it had any secret containers. When satisfied he handed the book to the women and said, "You can find the immigration registration over there." He said pointing to a terminal.

Ping! The approaching vessel triggered a repeating chime in the air traffic monitoring station.

"Approaching vessel. Holographics indicates small vessel, likely Zamyatin."

"Telepathics?"

"TPs confirm. Small Zamyatin vessel. One occupant. Too far away or resistant to telepathic probe."

"Get Command."

The technician quickly punched up the number for the Commander. This sort of thing was extremely rare in Krioval, and it merited a direct order from Lord Dekker.

"This is Raijin," came the voice of the Commander. "What's going on?"

"Lord Raijin, we have a Zamyatin vessel approaching. Signals that it's low on fuel and needs an emergency landing. Unable to probe occupant."

"Bring it in, and get a team of medical and psionic specialists down there. If the Zamyatin is hurt, fix him up. And I want to know everything that he's been thinking for the past month - without harming or alarming him."

"Consider it done, Commander."

The technician pointed across the room. "You, Koro. Bring the ship in."

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

Koro signalled the Zamyatin ship. "This is Krioval Air and Space Control. You are granted permission to enter Kriovalian airspace. Please power down your ship when you come within two kilometers of Krioval. I'll bring your ship in. Don't worry," he chuckled lightly. "I'm one of the best at this. We advise that you remain within your ship, as you may be detained by Kriovalian security otherwise. We are sending a medical team to tend to you as well. Your embassy will be notified of your arrival. Is there anything else you require?"

This is Shen Air Traffic control, you cleared for emergency vecotor zero zero eight niner. if possible set auto landing system to four gamma gamma seven. Once on the ground will you have enough fuel for taxi or will you need an assist to fuel pumps? Please respond on channel five oh six niner. Over.

At the Temporary residence that the Zamyatan pilot was being kept, the pilot was about to be interrogated by a military atachee from the Department of Defense.

The interrogator, a Captain, walked into the dimly lit room and faced the pilot, who sat in on a small wodden chair, staring straight at him. Pulling up another chair, the Captain faced the pilot.

'What is your name?' the pilot asked

'I am asking the questions here. State your name and rank for the tape-recorder,' the Captain gestured to a tape-recorder in the background, 'and then tell me about the religious text we found in your plane'

The soldier nodded and then said, "We will be searching your plane anyways... just to determine you are not a spy or anything." Then a soldier emerged from the plane, saluted, and said, "All we found was this book, Captain." He said handing it over the soldier began flipped through the pages nonchalantly... not even looking at them, just checking to see if it had any secret containers. When satisfied he handed the book to the women and said, "You can find the immigration registration over there." He said pointing to a terminal.

The worms evaporate from E-3333's throat. She's in! A few signatures on a registration form and she'll be another face in the vast Red Tidean crowd - but a face with a mouth, and a mouth with a book, and a book with a purpose.
--------------------

This is Krioval Air and Space Control. You are granted permission to enter Kriovalian airspace. Please power down your ship when you come within two kilometers of Krioval. I'll bring your ship in. Don't worry," he chuckled lightly. "I'm one of the best at this. We advise that you remain within your ship, as you may be detained by Kriovalian security otherwise. We are sending a medical team to tend to you as well. Your embassy will be notified of your arrival. Is there anything else you require?

"Roger that, Control. This is Zamyatin flight four-four-six, you can scratch the medics, we're pretty healthy up here." I-0227 glanced back at Z-0019 dozing quietly on the passenger couch. "We are powering down and are under your control, take it away Krioval."
--------------------

This is Shen Air Traffic control, you cleared for emergency vecotor zero zero eight niner. if possible set auto landing system to four gamma gamma seven. Once on the ground will you have enough fuel for taxi or will you need an assist to fuel pumps? Please respond on channel five oh six niner. Over.

Y-9397
"Copy that Shen, we're running on fumes up here and request tow to the fuel pumps - look alive, we'll be coming in rough!"
--------------------

'I am asking the questions here. State your name and rank for the tape-recorder,' the Captain gestured to a tape-recorder in the background, 'and then tell me about the religious text we found in your plane'

T-2009 wrinkles his nose as the interrogator sends of a blast of garlic-laden air steaming up his nostrils. He notes an air of military pomp, notes captain's bars, decides to avoid delay or evasion, and gives his name "T-2009," rank "Missionary Class One," and description of the text. "Religious text? Oh... you mean the Axioms. Yes I see the similarities, sort of, it's sort of a guide to living, you see? Like, a guide to filtering out the chaotic factors which hamper productivity for most people, you see? It's all through a series of mental and physical exercises... it's all down there... in a poetic meter to make it easy to remember... it's really just the laws of my homeland, you understand, simplified into a rhyming form for the people who haven't been raised with it, you understand? It's like a diet for the mind... for the society as a whole really... it's quite fascinating if you care to hear..."

He cannot tell if the expression on the captain's face is one of bewilderment, boredom, or religious rapture.

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

OOC:
Theao - once this thread has quieted down, would you perhaps like to continue the story of S-1171 in a separate character RP?

ooc:sure just tell me when/link

The registration officer looked the exact same as his military counterparts. That is for the uniform. He was a inch shorter than the captain. He looked at the new immigrant, sizing her up. He pushed over a sheet and said, "Sign at the requested forums."

The forum said as followed:

Standard Immigration Forum

Name:

Country of Origin:

Citizenships:

Race:

Religion:

Reasons for immigration(EX:Buisness, war situation, wedding arrangement, etc.):

Items being brought with:

Identification Card Number(if applicable):

Do you swear to hereby follow al laws set in Red Tide? Y/N

Would you like to learn all laws of Red Tide? Y/N

Do you hereby swear loyalty to the Supreme Commander and Red Tide? Y/N

Time of stay in Red Tide:1 day-5 years, 6-10 years, 11-15 Years, 16-20 Years, Forseeable Future, Permenant

ANSWER ONLH IF HAVING ANSWERED PERMENANT IN ABOVE QUESTION!

Do you relize that Supreme Order 164 hereby forbids emmigration from nation if said emmigrant is either native born or marked 'permenant' on the immigration forum(punishment is classified)?

DO NOT WRITE BELOW THIS LINE!

Aproved: Y/N

Reason for rejection(if applicable):

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!

Standard Immigration Forum

Name: E-3333

Country of Origin: Dominion of Zamyat

Citizenships: Zamyatin

Race: ??? [E-3333 is not aware of the concept of race]

Religion: none

Reasons for immigration(EX:Buisness, war situation, wedding arrangement, etc.): State eviction

Items being brought with: Book (Archus Axioms), Zamyatin standard yuny (uniform)

Identification Card Number(if applicable):

Do you swear to hereby follow al laws set in Red Tide? YES

Would you like to learn all laws of Red Tide? YES

Do you hereby swear loyalty to the Supreme Commander and Red Tide? YES

Time of stay in Red Tide:1 day-5 years, 6-10 years, 11-15 Years, 16-20 Years, Forseeable Future, Permenant

ANSWER ONLH IF HAVING ANSWERED PERMENANT IN ABOVE QUESTION!

Do you relize that Supreme Order 164 hereby forbids emmigration from nation if said emmigrant is either native born or marked 'permenant' on the immigration forum(punishment is classified)?

DO NOT WRITE BELOW THIS LINE!

Aproved: Y/N

Reason for rejection(if applicable):

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!

OOC:State Eviction means exile... right?

IC:The registration officer took the sheet of paper and put it into a computer. There was a small beep a minute later as the computer finished and the sheet slid out. He looked at it and nodded, and pushed forward the sheet and another object. "It took longer than usual because of the question marks beyond race question. But you were approved." Sure enough was the words YES marked next to the approved question, the registration officer continued, "This is your immigration bot." He said motioning to the object, "You are too keep it with you at all times. Any attempt to disable or destroy the bot is punishble by a 250,000 dollar fine and possible forced enlistment into the militaru... of course thats for men. The busses is over there." he said motioning to a clearly marked buses window, then he finished, "Welcome to Red Tide. NEXT!"

"Roger that, Control. This is Zamyatin flight four-four-six, you can scratch the medics, we're pretty healthy up here." I-0227 glanced back at Z-0019 dozing quietly on the passenger couch. "We are powering down and are under your control, take it away Krioval."

"I'm glad to hear that, flight four-four-six. We will be sending a small group to meet you. Naturally, as an unscheduled arrival, there will be forms to fill out and a few people to talk to. It shouldn't take more than a few hours total. I've notified the Zamyatin embassy in Torokara of your situation, but I haven't received a response yet. Welcome to Krioval."

Koro cut the communications link and turned to the supervising officer. "There's more than one of them," he said simply.

"How is that possible? Telepathic scan revealed one. Don't tell me that you're telepathic too, Koro."

"Of course not. But the Zamyatin used the plural 'we'. That must mean..."

"Crap! Either they're naturally resistant or they're intentionally blocking. Makes a covert interrogation near impossible."

"Yeah, well, I doubt they'd be trying to start a war. They're too logical for that. Besides, there's been no unusual activity near their embassy."

Koro switched back on the commlink.

"Would it be possible to get your identities? We would be happy to forward them on to your Ambassador."

OOC:State Eviction means exile... right?

OOC: Yes, however, it is more of a temporary exile until they establish some sort of support base with the Archus Axioms
--------------------

"Would it be possible to get your identities? We would be happy to forward them on to your Ambassador."

"Certainly, this is I-Two-Twenty-Seven piloting, and I'm carrying one male with me, Zee Nineteen. He's all tuckered out right now but I'll wake him up when we're on the ground."

Official Zamyatin Embassy Response

"We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this unchartered flight has caused you. While we were expecting such a flight in the near future, we had also expected that the Benefactorium would inform us prior to launching it so that we could inform you of course. Of course, in bureaucratic morass, the mouth sometimes moves faster than the brain, and I'm sure I'll get the information letter from my higher-ups in the mail tomorrow."

"Certainly, this is I-Two-Twenty-Seven piloting, and I'm carrying one male with me, Zee Nineteen. He's all tuckered out right now but I'll wake him up when we're on the ground."

Koro acknowledged the response, and then went to work. Using a combination of electromagnetic beams and old-fashioned Kriovalian telekinesis, the young man maneuvered the craft to a stop on the runway. A moment later, Koro appeared within a few feet of the craft, along with a team of Kriovalian medical, telepathic, and diplomatic specialists.

Koro's ever-cheerful voice called to the ship. "You might want to wake Zee Nineteen now, I-Two-Twenty-Seven. We have a few things we would like to ask you, if possible."

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

"We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience this unchartered flight has caused you. While we were expecting such a flight in the near future, we had also expected that the Benefactorium would inform us prior to launching it so that we could inform you of course. Of course, in bureaucratic morass, the mouth sometimes moves faster than the brain, and I'm sure I'll get the information letter from my higher-ups in the mail tomorrow."

Response of the KDT

We have just received word that your ship has safely arrived in Krioval. Naturally, we must take a few precautions to ensure that all is in order. Assuming all is as it should be, your citizens will either be transported to your embassy or cleared for entry.

Lord Jevo Telovar
Director, KDT

OOC: KDT = Krioval Diplomacy and Trade

Somewhere in an unnamed country, deep in a terrorist training camp;

Somebodies making a move boss.

What kind?

Dunno.

Whats it look like?

Nothin' I've ever seen. we get regular updates from intl atc in friendly nations right? mostly cross indexed for recent targets and expected inbounds, thats all done by computer and then we give it a quick run through to see if anybody in the news is coming in. So today I get a call from the guy who's doing the run through and he says that a bunch of the guys we get this stuff from have had unanounced visitors from this place called "Zamyat" all small planes, all reporting that their out of fuel and all pretty close together. So I think somebodies making a move.

Sounds good, get me some information on this 'Zamyat place' maybe contact them somehowsee what the government people ae like and that sort of stuff.

Righto Mr. G

Zamyat Craft, you are clear to land on runway five eight, an emergency crew and a tow will be standing by, please prepare your craft for search and have your passport ready for inspection upon landing. Over.

The Captain frowned as he fipped through the religious text the 'Missionary' had brought with him - The Axiom or something like that. It seemed rather more colourful than most religious texts he had seen in his life, but everything else seemed to be the same. Poems were at least a different approach though, interesting...

He shut the book and turned back to face the Missionary, who had been waiting patiently.

'Well, this doesn't seem to be an inflammatory text of any kind. I do not see any reason why you can't stay in the country. Tell me, what are your intentions now that you are here?'

"You might want to wake Zee Nineteen now, I-Two-Twenty-Seven. We have a few things we would like to ask you, if possible."

"Copy that," she says, then cuts the radio. She unbuckles herself from the seat, and ducks back to the passenger couch. A stream of unswallowed saliva is running from the corner of his mouth down the cover of his copy of the Axioms. "Zee!" she says, tugging his shoulder until his eyes crack a bit, "Zee, wake up! We'll be on the ground in thirty seconds, and they're gonna want to know what we're up to. Look alive, straighten up, and... please... wipe your mouth."

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


Zamyat Craft, you are clear to land on runway five eight, an emergency crew and a tow will be standing by, please prepare your craft for search and have your passport ready for inspection upon landing. Over.

"Roger that, Control, landing on runway five eight. We'll be ready for search when you are, over."
--------------------


'Well, this doesn't seem to be an inflammatory text of any kind. I do not see any reason why you can't stay in the country. Tell me, what are your intentions now that you are here?'

"I've got to get the message out, of course!" he says with a laugh. "Oh I'm not sure how yet, maybe I'll go door-to-door... or I could appear on one of those... what do you call them?" his eyes grasp at the word, and brighten as they find it "Infomercials! Yes... well, I'll probably have to scrounge some cash together for that... maybe I'll open up a small clinic or something first... you know, discussions every Wednesday and Saturday night or something like that - we could get a real following going here!"

The Captain had to turn away for fear of laughing openly in the poor mans face. This poor soul was obviously misguided and did not have a clue about the other religions in The Republic. They had a grip on the population and would not alow another to take even a small part of it. It would interesting to see how they dealt with this man.

Turning back to the Missionary,the Captain frowned. 'Your nation does not seem to have an embassy in our country. Is your government willing to exchange embassies, do you think?' he asked tentatively

'Your nation does not seem to have an embassy in our country. Is your government willing to exchange embassies, do you think?

"Erm... I suppose they would... it's not necessarily something I would know, but they usually are all for the embassies and such... you could contact them if you wish, I think it would be handled by the Benefactorium Foreign Council, I think that's their... you know... area."

Koro walked to the aircraft, attempting to get the Zamyatins' attention. Finally, he re-engaged the commlink. "So, I have some forms here to fill out. Pretty standard stuff, really. Fill these out and we'll do a quick search and interview, and I think we can have a temporary travel visa approved for you in about an hour or so. As for your vehicle, a search will not be required, as our scans don't indicate the presence of weapons or hazardous materials."

He paused to gauge the reaction of the visitors. "We can have the plane refueled shortly as well. If you're cleared to enter, I don't see a problem with your leaving when you'd like."

The Captain nodded at this and noted that he would have to find a way to contact those people. He got out of the chair and went through a door in the back of the room where a cadre of technicians were recording everything that happened in the room, watching through a one-way glass mirror.

The Captain picked up a phone and dialled. He waited a few seconds, then started speaking.

'Yes sir, this is me...yes sir, we have finished the interrogation...no sir, he appears to be harmless...I don't see why he shouldn't be granted a temporary visa for a while...yes sir, that goes without saying, I have two agents ready for a round the clock surveillance of him...I see...Thank-you Mr President.'

The Captain put the phone down and went back into the room with the Missionary. 'You have been granted a temporary visa in the country. I suggest you use it wisely.'

Koro walked to the aircraft, attempting to get the Zamyatins' attention. Finally, he re-engaged the commlink. "So, I have some forms here to fill out. Pretty standard stuff, really. Fill these out and we'll do a quick search and interview, and I think we can have a temporary travel visa approved for you in about an hour or so. As for your vehicle, a search will not be required, as our scans don't indicate the presence of weapons or hazardous materials."

He paused to gauge the reaction of the visitors. "We can have the plane refueled shortly as well. If you're cleared to enter, I don't see a problem with your leaving when you'd like."

I-0227 nods and looks at Z-0019, whose eyes are thickly glazed with boredom. "Alright," she says, "we'll just get these filled out and then you can have your talk with us or whatever."

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

The Captain nodded at this and noted that he would have to find a way to contact those people. He got out of the chair and went through a door in the back of the room where a cadre of technicians were recording everything that happened in the room, watching through a one-way glass mirror.

The Captain picked up a phone and dialled. He waited a few seconds, then started speaking.

'Yes sir, this is me...yes sir, we have finished the interrogation...no sir, he appears to be harmless...I don't see why he shouldn't be granted a temporary visa for a while...yes sir, that goes without saying, I have two agents ready for a round the clock surveillance of him...I see...Thank-you Mr President.'

The Captain put the phone down and went back into the room with the Missionary. 'You have been granted a temporary visa in the country. I suggest you use it wisely.'

The Missionary vigorously thanks him, elated both to have successfully entered the country, and to be free of the Captain's garlic aura.

the small aircraft landed smoothly and came to a stop just short of where the emergency people were waiting. Quickly and precisely the tow crew hooked the small electric tow vehicle to the front wheel of the aircraft and began dragging it off the runway to make room for more incoming traffic. even before the plane was done being towed to the fuel area a Mondothian customs agent climbed up the side and opened the hatch, peering in, perhaps looking for anything overtly illicit or dangerous and seeing none of it, he said loudly over the roar of an incoming Airbus

"What's your name and intended destination?"

I-0227 nods and looks at Z-0019, whose eyes are thickly glazed with boredom. "Alright," she says, "we'll just get these filled out and then you can have your talk with us or whatever."

Koro and the other Kriovalians waited patiently as the Zamyatins filled out the forms. He handed them to the immigrations and customs officer and turned to the visitors. "We don't get so much air traffic in Krioval these days. Business or pleasure?"

With that, the Kriovalians gestured for I-0227 and Z-0019 to follow them tothe main customs and cargo inspection building. First, security guards performed a cursory search. Finding nothing deadly or forbidden (OOC: I hope), they led the Zamyatins to a conference room. "Is there anything you would like to tell us before we begin? It would very likely speed up this whole process." Koro smiled and pointed to some comfortable chairs. "Really, this is more a formality than anything else. But we would really like to know the purpose for your unannounced visit."

"What's your name and intended destination?"

The Zamyatin woman, tall, thin, with chiseled face and smooth, shaven scalp, looks blankly at the Mondothian customs agent. She had perhaps expected a bit more of a reception, or at least to exit the plane prior to being interrogated, deemed a harmless eccentric, and released into the public at large. She tries quickly to regain her composure, but is so shaken that she can only force out "My name - Y-9397 - Go to - destination -to go to - here?" She screws up her eyes as she tries to figure out whether her sentence makes sense even to her.

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

Koro and the other Kriovalians waited patiently as the Zamyatins filled out the forms. He handed them to the immigrations and customs officer and turned to the visitors. "We don't get so much air traffic in Krioval these days. Business or pleasure?"

With that, the Kriovalians gestured for I-0227 and Z-0019 to follow them tothe main customs and cargo inspection building. First, security guards performed a cursory search. Finding nothing deadly or forbidden (OOC: I hope), they led the Zamyatins to a conference room. "Is there anything you would like to tell us before we begin? It would very likely speed up this whole process." Koro smiled and pointed to some comfortable chairs. "Really, this is more a formality than anything else. But we would really like to know the purpose for your unannounced visit."

"Oh sure, sure... completely understandable," says Z-0019. "I understand completely your fully understandable position, completely... I do..."

"Still a bit sleepy?" asks I-0227 looking at her babbling comrade. "We are bringing in a new text to the embassy, replacing some workers who have become... irrational due to 'Chaos Sickness.' Nothing you'd be familiar with, mental disease peculiar to our society, really, nothing our technicians back home won't be able to handle. I believe a message was intended to have been sent..." She shrugs, mumbles, "Bureaucracy..."

OOC: Deadly or forbidden? Ha! You don't even know the meaning of the words, for your security guards have stumbled upon the most unstoppable designer superplague ever to er... plague... mankind! No, but seriously, they're not carrying anything, and if they were, it would be, at most, merely harmful or frowned-upon.

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

"Oh sure, sure... completely understandable," says Z-0019. "I understand completely your fully understandable position, completely... I do..."

"Still a bit sleepy?" asks I-0227 looking at her babbling comrade. "We are bringing in a new text to the embassy, replacing some workers who have become... irrational due to 'Chaos Sickness.' Nothing you'd be familiar with, mental disease peculiar to our society, really, nothing our technicians back home won't be able to handle. I believe a message was intended to have been sent..." She shrugs, mumbles, "Bureaucracy..."

"Huh. Yeah. Well, basically, our laws make me ask you a few questions, like I said, mostly a formality. What I need to know is what brings you to Krioval, how long you'd like to stay, and what you will be doing here." Koro shrugged. The telepaths were good, though incomplete. The Zamyatins weren't here to kill or destroy, and while it appeared that there was some grand intrigue, as long as Kriovalians weren't being hurt, it paid to not probe too deeply.

OOC: Deadly or forbidden? Ha! You don't even know the meaning of the words, for your security guards have stumbled upon the most unstoppable designer superplague ever to er... plague... mankind! No, but seriously, they're not carrying anything, and if they were, it would be, at most, merely harmful or frowned-upon.

OOC: Another superplague? That's sooooooooooo last century. :p

Huh. Yeah. Well, basically, our laws make me ask you a few questions, like I said, mostly a formality. What I need to know is what brings you to Krioval, how long you'd like to stay, and what you will be doing here.

"A plane!" says Z-0019 brightly, cutting off the last consonant with a trickle of laughter which dies as he realizes that he laughs alone, "You get it... because you asked what brings us here... and I -oof!" He presses a hand against the rib bruised by I-0227's silencing elbow.

"I apologize... Koro, was it? Yes... I believe my compatriot was making a joke... we are not a funny people. We are here on business from the Benefactorium Foreign Council - the embassy staff has reported that two current employees have become dangerously irrational beyond the abilities of their reprimand technician to... rectify. We will be staying for two years, unless the Foreign Council decrees otherwise - and we are bringing with us this text," she points to the Axioms, "which is sort of a poetic PR book and self-help guide offering advice on how to better order and organize life. The embassy will probably begin distributing copies - or we may begin to market them, the Foreign Council should let them know what we're supposed to do... actually, the Foreign Council should have informed them of our pending arrival, and they should've informed you... I'll have to see what happened there."

Koro struggled not to laugh. And while his efforts were above and beyond the capability of most, the combination of the first one's "plane joke" and the second's difficulty in speaking in more than a single sentence nearly pushed him over the edge. To his credit, the Kriovalian never completely lost composure, but it was obvious that he found the interrogation to be almost farcical at this point.

"Right. Well, I'm pretty sure you're not terrorists or anything like that. Let me take a quick look at that book." He flipped through the pages quickly, trusting either the telepaths or the precognitives to detect anything out of the ordinary. When he had said the interview was a mere formality, Koro was being completely truthful. It wouldn't do to let nearly each international arrival know that their thoughts and plans were being probed by a team of psionics.

"No problems here either. You two are free to enter Krioval. Let me just stamp those documents there." Koro did so. "And let me know if you require transport for your colleagues at the embassy who will return home."

As the Zamyatins left, Koro silently counted to thirty-six. Confident that they were clear of the room, he burst into laughter. "A plane!" It took nearly two full minutes for the young man's outburst to subside to soft giggling. Then, taking a deep breath, he straightened his uniform and returned to his post. "The things we do in the name of national security," he muttered to himself, with the occasional chuckle escaping him.
----------------------
OOC: If you want to RP the Zamyatins in Krioval, that would be fine either here or on another thread. Let me know.

OOC: If you want to RP the Zamyatins in Krioval, that would be fine either here or on another thread. Let me know.

Another thread, perhaps. I'd rather just finish off this one with Mondoth and tie up any other loose ends before going on to RP the Zamyatins in the nations they've entered. If you have any ideas in mind for such an RP, TG me.

James, the Customs agent hanging half in and half out of Y-9397's plane, hung there for a few more seconds hoping to get something a little bit more... sensible, hearing nothing else that matches the descripton he leaps back out and signals to the fueler crew to stand down before running to the door marked "customs only" that is a virtualy ubiquitous feature of any Mondothian hangar in an international airport. On the other side is nothing special, a small heavily locked armory, two phones, two computers, a table and three chairs. James picks up the phone and hits a series of three numbers to contact his immediate superior.

"Ya?"

"I got a live one Ma'am, gave her name as a set of digits, Why Nine Three Seven or something, The interesting thing is that she came in on fumes and says that her intended destination is here and nobody filed a flight plan for a small plane from Zamyat or where ever to here. I think you should see if you can backtrack the plane, I'll do what can from this end but I think somebody needs to be nailed for negligence, If she'd hit a head wind she could be drifting to the bottom of the ocean from an empty tank."

"Allright, I'll see what I can do, Have the 'Boy's' go over the plane with a fine tooth comb, And give her the rundown, We've heard something about a lot of planes leaving that area, maybe political instability or something, see if she needs asylum or something."

"Yes Ma'am" and the connection was terminated

Y-9397 still sits in the cockpit of her plane, taking a series of deep breaths. She has never liked such unscripted interactions - things should fall into the usual order, that's what life is about: order triumphing over chaos. It was not about men barging in the plane's entry hatch, shouting fierce questions and demanding answers.

A tide of nausea rose to her throat; she forced it back, tightening her abdomen into a wall of steel until it receded into a lump of threatening bile twisted in her stomach. "Get a hold of yourself, Y, get a hold of yourself..." She closes her eyes, and begins a mantra: "Father One is Law, trust in Father One, Father One is Law, trust in Father One, He is wise, He is strong, He will protect me, He is wise, He is strong, He will..." The words press out the chaos in her mind and the bile in her gut, and she begins to form, in her head, the word-strings of conversations-to-be.

"He is wise, He is strong, He will protect me."

James was back

Uh, Y-9397, if you would please, come with me, We'd like to ask you a fw questions.