NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: This is a closed/invite only RP intended for OMP member nations only. If you want to read this thread, please use the Jolt subscription features to subscribe to it. If you're not an OMP member and you want in, please TG me.]

One last time, old gal. One last time for posterity's sake.

Fleet Admiral Marcus Patinkin walked the pier where the Freedom-class pocket superdreadnaught ISS Praetonia was docked. He ran his right hand slowly through his gray hair and looked up at the behemoth that served as the co-flagship of the Sarzonian Navy along with the ISS Isselmere, another ship of the same class as the Praetonia.

Patinkin knew that the Navy couldn't have two flagships and he realised the current political climate was such that relations between Sarzonia and Isselmere-Nieland were slightly strained. Granted, the strain was relatively minor and could be fixed by something as simple as a government change, but still, it was enough for symbolism's sake to make a difference. Coincidentally, the ISS Isselmere was in drydock undergoing repairs and gave way to the ISS Praetonia to serve as the nation's flagship.

However, he knew the grand dame's time was drawing near, as was his own. He knew that as soon as his pendant slinked down the old Praetonia's flagpole and he and it made their way to the bridge of the new ISS Praetonia, that his career would end with it.

All this time, he thought. And now it's mere hours away from simply being Marcus. He shook his head. He knew that he couldn't simply be Marcus. He was considered the greatest national hero in Sarzonia, almost more revered than President Mike Sarzo himself. He would be a shoo-in for the Presidency as long as Senior Vice President for Internal Affairs Nicole Lewis wasn't running against him. That is, if Sarzo had any designs about giving up the Gray House.

But those thoughts slipped into the recesses of his mind as he looked up one more time at the Praetonia. He quickly turned away, but it was too late as his eyes became blurred with tears.

Meanwhile, Admiral Stephen Marcus looked up at the shiny new ship at the harbor in Portland. His mission was going to be different, but the emotions for him were no less intense. He was about to watch a man he came to respect as a mentor ride off into the sunset along with a ship he once commanded. Even though he and Patinkin weren't the closest of friends, it was still a bittersweet moment for him. He was suddenly going to be given the ceremonial title of Fleet Admiral which gave him the responsibilities that Patinkin so ably handled for years.

The new ship gleamed in the setting sun like the smile of a friendly stranger. Marcus knew the ship would not be a stranger to him much longer. But the feelings would probably stay strange for the time being.

[Tag. I plan for a really big send-off to the Admiral.]

Fleet Admiral Sir Geoff Kirkssen took in a deep breath as he stood upon the aft deck of the HNS Custos Morum, one of the new Fiat Voluntas Tua Class SuperCruisers. It was his first time at sea commanding a squadron of ships for more than six years. His position as Royal Navy Chief of Staff demanded his full attention, and that attention was focused around Hamptonshire City. He desperately longed to get back on the water and command warships but his country required him to sit at a desk, not in a captain's chair. Now he was aboard one of the Royal Navy's most powerful "cruisers" escorted by a two dozen ships. Within a few days his armada would grow to include an aging but still powerful Patrick Henry Class dreadnaught and a brand new Admiral Leahy Class Heavy Command Cruiser.

It's nice to be out on the water again he thought to himself as he leaned over the railing. I would have liked to see some action, but I suppose this is the next best thing.

Admiral Kirkssen's force was steadily cruising toward Sarzonia, not in anger but in friendship. Not more than three days ago President Sarzo sent a request to the Royal Navy. He invited Hamptonshire to participate in the changing of the flag ceremony. At first Hamptonian participation was to be limited to a single cruiser and a few midlevel dignitaries.

However, as with all things, as the bureaucracy got involved the entire project grew exponentially. Now Admiral Kirkssen and Lord Rosecrans themeselves were coming. With the two men were to come four ships to provide an Honor Guard. The HNS Thomas Paine, the flagship of the Hamptonian fleet that engaged the RSTF, the HNS Hispaniola, named in honor of the battlecruiser sunk in the aforementioned battle, and the HNS Custos Morum were being brought by Kirkssen. Lord Rosecrans would personally command the newly commissioned HNS Primogenitor, along with a sizeable escort force. She would come along the ISS Praetonia and give her her final send off.

For now such ceremony was far back in the mind of the Fleet Admiral. He was just enjoying the feel of the salt air in his hair again.


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


Portshire Royal Navy Yards

At the far end of the dock the giant super dreadnaught, Primogenitor, readied to leave for her two week long cruise to Sarzonia. It would be the massive ship's first mission as part of the Royal Navy and Lord Rosecran's first time in command for the better part of a decade. No cost and no chances were being spared for this journey, two Combined Fleets, a full third of the current active Royal Navy, was to escort the Primogenitor to her destination. On top of that already fierce guard the fourteen Leviathan Class Battleships and two Fiat Voluntas Tua SuperCruisers of the Flying Battle Squadron were to surround the flagship. The massive formation of steel and titanium would be a like a mountain floating in the sea.

There was one last element that would add to the grandeur and scope of this operation, an element that no one, save the Commander-General, knew about. The suprise was quietly brought aboard the ship just before it launched. When the time came, that one last element would be more important and striking than a thousand dreadnaughts. It would be a fitting way to see off a Sarzonian living legend.

Marcus stepped aboard the new warship for the first time in the early hours of the afternoon. The fleet was on its way and as soon as it arrived, the new ISS Praetonia would leave the dock for the first time on anything other than a shakedown cruise. At her full maximum speed of 39.2 knots, she could traverse the distance from Portland to Nicksia in just over a day, but she was due into the harbour in Nicksia in two weeks. That meant the ship didn't have to tax its Pebblebed nuclear reactors beyond reason, and it meant Marcus would have a chance to ready himself mentally.

The crew assembled into place and Commodore Katie Patinkin, daughter of the retiring Fleet Admiral stood at attention at the centre of the bridge.

"Admiral on the bridge."

Marcus raised his right hand at about shoulder level with a small grin.

"No need for that Commodore," he said with a smile. "I'm sure your daddy would love to see you in that chair, at least until I get back from his ISS Praetonia."

"But sir, I --" Katie said haltingly. Marcus walked over to her and spoke with a soothing tone of voice that demonstrated his respect for her and for her proud surname.

"Katie, you've earned the right to sit there. Until this ship becomes the flagship of the Navy, she is yours to command. I think your father would be proud to see his daughter sitting in that chair. Actually, I think we can give him a chance to sit there one last time before he officially gives up his commission." He walked slowly to her and almost whispered. "Trust me, Katie. Besides, you look great in that chair. And what would the ISS Praetonia be without a Patinkin in command?" He broke out into a wide grin. "Carry on, Commodore. I'll be in my quarters." He turned and walked off the bridge as Patinkin shook her head slightly.

"Sir, we've just received word from the fleet. We're ready to get underway."

"Very well," Patinkin said. "Helm, take us out."

"Aye, sir."

The engines of the sleek new ISS Praetonia started the slow hum that turned into a steady roar and the great ship slowly eased out of its dock and toward its place with the rest of the fleet for the journey to Nicksia.

Sarzo was flipping through some papers that Becky Davis, the Executive Administrative Assistant to the President, brought him. It looked like the run of the mill information about various initiatives in several states that came from the governor's offices. He rolled his eyes at the latest report from Endymion. They kept sending him information about issues that were long-established as states issues, and he didn't like the idea of wasting the paper to send him the reports.

His eyes started to glaze over and he set the papers aside to take a quick break, but Davis pulled out one paper.

"Mr. President, could you look at this one?"

"Becky, I need a break."

"This one's really important."

"Oh, all right," Sarzo said with exasperation building in his voice. He took it from Davis and looked at it.

"Patinkin's retiring and the Freedom-class Praetonia is going to be replaced by the Independence-class Praetonia?"

"That's right, Mike. And they want you there to see Patinkin and the old ship off. And here's the kicker, they want you to wear a naval uniform."

"What?! I don't even have a naval uniform. My title as commander in chief is ceremonial for the most part anyway. Why should I wear a uniform in front of the people who really know what they're doing with naval matters?"

"This is a direct quote from Kath," Davis said. Kath was Vice President for Naval Operations Kathy Bunhall, who was in charge of overseeing the navy for Sarzonia and had been for a long time. "As the man whose vision led the Incorporated Sarzonian Navy to its position among the forefront of the world's navies, the ISN would like nothing better than to see the President in uniform."

"So where am I going to get a naval uniform? The five and dime?"

"They're sending one over to you custom tailored to your measurements."

"Sounds like the navy types think of everything."

"They get it from you, sir," she said with a laugh.

Sarzo chuckled in spite of himself. He saw his First Partner Jay Tyler bring in the naval uniform with a grin on his face. Sarzonia One was also on the runway near the Gray House.

"Guess it's showtime," Sarzo said. He and Tyler strode toward the plane.

Tag

OOC: If you're not in OMP or I didn't specifically invite you to the RP, I'm going to have to ask you again NOT to post on this thread. Use the Jolt forum subsciption tool to subscribe to this thread if you want to read it.

OMP, please start posting in here. I don't want to end up being the only one RPing this out.

[I'll get to it when I can... sorry...]

Ugly was probably the most pleasant term anyone could have found for the Black Dragon, even accounting for her rather snazzy all-black, radar-attenuating paintwork. The carrier was a mere three hundred and ninety-two metres in length, smaller than the Navy’s largest battleships, yet accommodated one hundred and thirty-five aircraft in her capacious belly, all of which were now devoid of armament but very much ready to fly. The ship’s two hundred and ninety-seven thousand tonnes were barely being affected by the wind and waves, which were in any case unusually calm for the time of year.

Perhaps it’s an omen of things to come, pondered Rear Admiral Ayumi Sakamoto, staring along the water from the carrier’s island. Perhaps the peace in which we have found ourselves of late is permanent. In which case, I’m out of a job. He cracked a wry smile and went back to thinking about what he would say when the little group reached Sarzonia, since he expected to have to say something or other; of course, if all went to plan, nobody would care about what he said anyway. Around the carrier, her small escort group kept a relaxed watch for hostile submarines and aircraft. Sakamoto kept track of them languidly, needing minimal effort to do so, for he was used to commanding a battlegroup of twenty ships, not the mere seven he now had in his charge. In a way, it was rather a step-down, but this was an important little diplomatic jaunt, and he had been selected to do it, so maybe it wasn’t such a come-down after all… I’m rambling again. Concentrate! Sakamoto sighed, turned his eyes from the inviting vista, and went back to the speech that he would probably waste his time in delivering, ignoring the slight shudder as four TS-3 interceptors lifted off into the clouds.

"Hmm, better than I expected," Marcus said to no one in particular while he gazed out from his spot on the observation deck as the Independence-class (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=408829) pocket superdreadnaught knifed through the waters on its way to Nicksia. He looked at the latest information about the ceremony that was to take place. A delegation from Hamptonshire was already on its way there, while Don'tPissUsOff was also sending representatives.

"This is going to be quite the spectacle," Katie said as she walked into the room with her shift on the bridge having finished. She walked deliberately toward Marcus, getting a chance finally to appreciate the ship for the marvelous piece of work she was told it was. The Independence-class was a niche ship, she knew, just like its predecessor class. But while the Freedom-class (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=345131) pocket superdreadnaught was a joint project undertaken by a nascent Portland Iron Works along with an already established Imperial Praetonian shipyards, the Independence was a ship widely seen throughout Sarzonia as the crowning glory for a Portland Iron Works shipyard company that rocketed to prominence in the shipyard construction business.

The company singlehandedly turned ship building from an occasional project to provide some stopgap reinforcements for the Incorporated Sarzonian Navy into the single dominant industry in Sarzonia. Even the country's longstanding strength in book publishing circles quickly took a back seat to the Portland Iron Works. The Navy eventually decided to go local for most, if not all, of its ship designs. Thus, it was clear that the Independence was not just a new fangled ship, it was a symbol of Sarzonian vitality. And Steve Marcus was commanding it into a new era of the country's glorious maritime history.

Marcus took a quick, but probing look at Katie, wondering what was going through the mind of a woman who was developing a reputation as a talented commander in her own right, but who was going to watch her father, the man who earned legendary status throughout Sarzonia, end his tenure as a commissioned officer in the Navy. He knew the Navy was her livelihood and he knew that her emotions had to be swirling around inside her studied reserve. Even though this was Fleet Admiral Marcus David Patinkin, the most decorated military officer in all of Sarzonia, this was still Daddy saying goodbye to the sea.

For her part, Katie was doing her best to hold things in. She hated it when her father saw her cry, no matter how many times he reassured her that it was okay at times. She was hell-bent on playing the part of the disciplined naval officer and not just daddy's little girl.

"Admiral, Commodore," we should be approaching the rendevous soon," Commander Harvey Essex said. "I thought you needed to know."

"Thank you, Commander," both flag officers said in unison. After Essex left, they turned to each other and shared a laugh. Each one knew the other's laugh was a nervous one, but they didnt' have to say it.

Fleet Admial Honor Harrington, Duchess of St. Ives, looked out over the ocean and sighed. She would have preferred nothing more than to make the trip to Sarzonia alone, but she also knew the Imperium's enemies were numerous and stupid enough to try to take down a Gehenna if the oportunity presented itself, never mind the horrendous losses they would suffer in trying. So, as a consequence, she had been forced to bring along her entire fleet

Just as they were nearing Sarzonian waters her Fleet Comms Officer dragged her into the Flag Deck and handed her a headset. She quickly adjusted the mike and announced, "Attention, this is Fleet Admiral Honor Harrington, commander of the 4th Expeditionary Fleet, Imperial Navy. Requesting permission to enter Sarzonian territorial waters."

Bunhall sat down in an unfamiliar chair for her: The controller's chair. Normally, the officer assigned to grant or deny permission to enter Sarzonian waters would have sat in the chair the Vice President for Naval Operations was occuping, but with the nature of the ceremony, the Cabinet didn't want to take any chances that an underling would botch things.

"Fleet Admiral Harrington, this is Vice President for Naval Operations Kathy Bunhall, permission to enter is granted. Welcome to Sarzonia."

She looked back and smiled weakly at Sarzo.

"Did I get that right?"

"Fine with me," Sarzo said with a smirk that suggested that it didn't matter. The new Praetonia was on its way and the ceremony was close to beginning. He pictured Patinkin nervously pacing the bridge of the old Praetonia. Even though the man had been on death's doorstep and had come through alive, the prospect of ending his career made him uncomfortable.

Speaking of uncomfortable, Sarzo grumbled as he stepped out of a closet wearing a full dress uniform. He grimaced as he looked at himself in a mirror wearing a seven star admiral's uniform that befitted his ceremonial title as Commander in Chief of all armed forces. Still, he had never worn a military uniform until now. And with good reason.

"Sir, other delegations are arriving," Bunhall said after granting permission to the other fleets to arrive in Nicksia.

"Understood. Looks like we're going to have our party ready or not."

Their Serene Highnesses Duke Robert and Duchess Sophie of Andvari chatted amongst themselves, lamenting the situation in the UKIN. The present government was sending the United Kingdom in entirely the wrong direction, forsaking her ancient allies as well as the policies of the former leader of the Labour Party. It was only their son's constitutional authority as commander-in-chief of the Defence Forces that allowed this flotilla to venture to Sarzonia over the objections of Prime Minister Blakeney. The Government, however, was experiencing its own problems. King Henry V was due to make his Throne Speech today repudiating much of the government's policies and guiding the UKIN back to her true course with a firm hand. Similarly the former royal couple hoped that their visit to their allies would prove that the old ties were as firm as ever. At least we stayed consistently true to Jimnam, Duke Robert thought.

On the bridge of the Cernunnos-class flagship, Her Royal Highness Commodore Princess Catherine, flag captain to the Home Fleet Group, carefully and quietly observed her officers and sailors at work, silently remarking how efficient they were. On the bridge's starboard wing, the Flag Lieutenant, Lieutenant Commander Anthony Carstairs, supervised a petty officer instructing a midshipman in the old tradition of light signals. Commodore Bevan Asbury aboard the flagship group's King Robert VI-class battleship must have been enjoying the young man's plight as the larger vessel fired off a steady stream of encouraging uncoded messages via his port-side bridge searchlight. Since her visit to witness the opening of the Woodstock Pact's headquarters in the Sarzonian capital she had been uneasy. Now that she was carrying what she hoped would be a more welcome gift, her unease had mostly vanished. What will the Sarzonians think once they discover the names of these ships, she pondered. The chuckle that followed caused a few heads to rise briefly from sensor displays and turn from digital tactical maps.

TAG... i'll post later cuz i've got things to do that need doing.

Sorry.

"It's a glorious day." Lord Rosecrans said to his chief aide, Lt. Cmdr. Stephen Dion. The commander smiled as he handed the Commander-General his cup of coffee. The view from the bridge high atop the Primogenitor was magnificant, the ocean was a calm deep blue and all around mighty ships of the Royal Navy cut through the water.

"It is a brilliant day, Your Lordship. I hope Admiral Kirkssen's task force is enjoying similar good fortune."

"We both know the Admiral would love to be caught up in a storm," Rosecrans said as he sipped his hot coffee, "anything to keep him at sea a bit longer."

As Lord Rosecrans drank his coffee and surveyed the open ocean in front of him Commander Dion patiently stood behind his mentor. He wanted to know why fully a third of the Royal Navy was escorting the Primogenitor to Sarzonia. He knew the official line was "The Combined Fleets are there to protect the Primogenitor as part of standard operating protocol". Dion could understand sending a hundred or so warships, but sending 2500 and fourteen Leviathan Class Battleships to surround the super dreadnaught was too much for just simple "standard operating protocol".

The Commander cleared his throat, "My Lord, may I ask a question?"

"Of course. Proceed."

"Sir, I know what's been said to the press but I wonder- Why are so many warships escorting us? I know we have a "special package" on board but what could possibly warrant using a third of the Royal Navy as protection? I mean, what, are we going to war?"

Lord Rosecrans put down his cup and turned in his chair to face his young aide. With a smirk and a wink Lord Rosecrans quietly said "Anything's possible."

The massive hulk of metals and other materials alike proceeded, as its beautiful hull did everything but ruthlessly cutting and crushing through the pool of ocean waves, its salty contents sliding on the rough surfaces of the paint and radar wave-absorbing materials. Though the tradition for both the Omzian Navy and beyond is a show of massive firepower through the use of battleships, both the political and military figures of Omzian bureaucracy nevertheless decided to dispatch a massive show of airpower instead. Airpower, though may seem insignificant as a naval weapon, was no less of a beast than the massive barrels of a battleship gun and the projectile that it fires; however, airpower also has its own unique characteristics, as a newly formed formation of three F-14G Tomcat Plus flew over the massive carrier, its weapons laden and geared for action.

Thus, the massive Ocean type assault carrier of the Southern Fleet, ONCS Dominance, would instead take the role of the battleship as it proceeded above the deep waves, vibrant forms of ocean life passing nearby, yet unaware of the audacity and the presence of this vessel. Aircraft of different types dotted across the massive deck, as the sun's rays peered against the massive beds of missile-carrying cells, and as the cluster of chain guns and missile boxes tinkered around with the massive silhouette, with its beautiful curves and forms to distinct it from other vessels of a similar type. However, it was not something that should be taken lightly, as its vanguard and sentinels of escort vessels accompanied her, each having their own significance and influence, though not as much as the vessel itself.

Fleet Admiral Gagarin Logan, the head of the Omzian Southern Fleet's Operations Headquarters, was among the few important individuals stationed within the armoured shell of the carrier. Though his schedule was and still are littered with a mosaic of plans and upcoming events, he could not afford to not participate in such event. Though the presence of some other high-ranking leaders and admirals has more or less made an impression on his feelings and thoughts, this is the first time he would enter Sarzonia as one of the highest-ranking leaders of the Omzian Navy. An advocator of the use of battleships himself, he was born as a son of a mechanic, whom would soon rise in dominance as a cruiser captain, before fighting and winning the battle that led to the commissioning of the new series of Leviathan "dreadnaughts" within the Omzian Navy. Similarly, his interest in such types of vessels would not allow him to wander elsewhere, as his visit to this event would not only allow him to act as a representative for the Omzian nation, but also allowing him to catch a glimpse of the new vessel and getting to know about it.

Being accompanied by his aide, Commodore Hagare, he toured around the bridge, monitoring and enjoying the sight of the seamen, petty officers, and lieutenants alike, whom has been working hard on getting the weapon and control systems as flawless as possible. However, in order to accommodate him and make him more comfortable, they have been careful on not disturbing the Fleet Admiral's tour and enjoyment with endless streams of salutes, greetings, and slogans. "Amazing, huh?" the Commodore said as he let out a smile at the Fleet Admiral.

"Being on a carrier isn't so bad after all," the Fleet Admiral chuckled as he turned his head towards a lieutenant busily working with the maze of LCD and TV screens. "Commodore, can you inform the Captain to send a message to the Sarzonians?"

"Yes, sir!" the Commodore said.

Not long after, a message in an Omzian-accented English would break the blanket of silence over the radio waves. "This is Captain Barnare of the CVAN Twelve ONCS Dominance, leading the Assault Carrier Battle Group Number Twelve, enroute to port call and commissioning event within Sarzonia. Requesting acknowledgement of presence, and permission to enter territorial waters.

[OOC: Stevid, this thread is reserved for currently active OMP members who have been regular posters on the OMP fora or for specifically invited guests. I would advise you not to post here, as your application to rejoin the OMP has been rejected.]

[Stevid: Perhaps you took my reply to your application thread to mean that you are a member of the OMP? If you did, then you are sadly mistaken.]

Sakamoto held a pair of genuine Imperial Japanese Navy binoculars that had once stood on the bridge of the Yamashiro to his weary eyes, observing with no pleasure at all the various giant ships of their OMP allies. He knew that all of them dwarfed his carrier in destructive power and survivability, but he also knew that he could learn so much from them. He made a mental note to see if he could examine the ships in harbour more closely, especially the radar-absorbent materials on their hulls. After all, allies could very easily become enemies these days. Into his reverie intruded one of the warrant officers: the Sarzonians were requesting identification information, it seemed. Sakamoto chuckled; they probably weren't expecting the ship to be running with all of her electronics turned off except her navigation radars, and with TSF-1 fighters and TS-3S interceptors orbiting above her.

Sakamoto ordered the WO to give the Sarzonians the details they required,nodded curtly to the officer and proceeded below to don his dress uniform, his pitted, tanned and slightly wizened face locked into an expression or determined irritation which his comrades found inexplicable. As though they do not care that we are at the mercy of these people! His face twisted into a snarl as he slammed the door of his cabin closed, leaving the sentry outside to blow out his cheeks in surprise.

[OOC: I wanted to skip the whole "request permission to dock thing, but now that some of it's been RP'd, let's start getting down to the nitty gritty.]

"Are we ready?"

"Not yet, Mr. President. People are still getting in position."

"Damn it! This uniform's uncomfortable."

"You wanted to wear it, remember?"

Why did I fucking decide to put on a naval uniform, Sarzo grumbled. He looked at himself in the mirror. No matter how hard he tried, the look of a naval officer escaped him.

"Don't worry, Mike, you look great," Tyler said.

"I look like an overgrown kid going Trick-or-Treating."

"You do not!"

Sarzo took one last look in the mirror. He listened and heard a familiar guitar opening.

"Here goes everything," he said as he walked toward the transport that would take him to the old Praetonia.

**************************************

Patinkin sighed. This truly was it. No more navy for him.

"I guess this is time to give it one last whirl, huh," Patinkin said.

"You can always come back, Daddy," Katie said. He looked at her with a growing sadness that came from knowing in his heart of hearts that this was it. There would be no more missions, no more fleets to command, no more lives hanging in the balance of every command he gave from the bridge of the great old gal.

You can't go home again, he thought sadly. He heard the guitars play and he knew it was the point of no return. He walked slowly, as if he were a lemming on a death march. In a way, he was.

A part of me is going to die when I take this uniform off, Patinkin thought. Maybe I'll buy a boat or something.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia, Mr. Michael A. Sarzo." Patinkin watched languidly as Sarzo stepped to the platform in his naval uniform and pulled out a speech.

Lord Rosecrans, Fleet Admiral Kirkssen, Captain Rosecrans, and the rest of the primary Hamptonian delegation stood up and clapped when President Sarzo stepped foward. They had just arrived aboard the Praetonia, none of the men even had a chance to meet with any of the other foreigners aboard the warship.

Lord Rosecrans and the Fleet Admiral took in the sights. It was their first time in years at sea. This trip would be worth all the hastle, all the money, all the planning if for no other reason than that.



The Thomas Paine, Hispaniola, and Custos Morum formed up alongside the storied Sarzonian warship to form the Honor Guard that would take her to home. The Primogenitor would join after the President's speech. Lord Rosecrans wanted to be sure that its suprise would have maximum effect. So the new flagship of the Royal Navy waited, 5 miles away, for the signal from the Commander-General.

Admiral Harrington took off her Tyrian scarlet beret and stoof as President Sarzo entered. She was not, strictly speaking, required to render such an honor, but Sarzo was an allied head of state and it never heart to be polite. As it was, she was the only representative from the Imperium on the soon-to-be-decommissioned Sarzonian flagship, every other admiral and commodore was busy aboard their respective flagships, preparing for one of the largest 7-gun salutes in the history of the Imperium.


[Just a note, a 7-gun salute is roughly equivilant to the USN's 21-gun salute. I could go into why each navy's salutes are different, but that can be found easily enough online.]

http://kfox.gamehorizons.net/pacitaliaseal.jpg
Official Pacitalian Government Statement

Without a doubt, Fleet Admiral Marcus Patinkin was the greatest naval leader the Sarzonian people, and if I may be so bold, the Pacitalian people as well, have seen in the short history of Sarzonia, and again with boldness, I daresay I would not be surprised if we don't see another Patinkin for another couple of centuries. I mean that with the deepest honesty and respect.

This man, with his uncomparable intelligence and strategy formation, charisma, wit and undeniably superb leadership abilities was a solid rock in an equally solid, well-oiled and powerful Sarzonian naval machine. Without his leadership, the navy would not have seen the power and respect it enjoys today, both from Sarzonia's allies and from its friendlies, and if I again may be bold, even its enemies and those inside the nation itself. The Organisation of Maritime Powers probably would be less revered without Patinkin as a, now sadly, former key member of the group that both Pacitalians and Sarzonians of all ages, creeds and races respect and cherish their membership in.

Fleet Admiral Marcus Patinkin's courage, logic and quick-thinking saved the lives of countless Sarzonian sailors during the various conflicts of Sarzonian involvement, and his actions may have indirectly done the same for countless others in the Pacitalian Naval Forces and other national naval branches of the OMP during his long, uncomparably distinguished career as the leader of the naval branch of the Incorporated States.

The new Fleet Admiral has a lot to live up to, a big pair of shoes to fill indeed, but we are confident he can do a respectable and excellent job in his new position without letting the authority of such a placement affect his judgment or thinking away from the admiral's chair.

However, this post is about Patinkin's legacy, one Pacitalians alike are more than happy to honour in the highest regard possible.

Therefore, it is my pleasure and honour to offer this man, the decorated and universally-loved Fleet Admiral Marcus Patinkin of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia, the twenty-fourth Capostication of the Republic of Pacitalia, our most revered and highest-regarded award of achievement and uncomparable legacy, of service and bravery to one's nation, whether Pacitalia or an outside nation.

We are proud to give Mr. Patinkin this honour as his tenure ends as Sarzonian Fleet Admiral and hope that he, along with President Mike Sarzo and Senior Vice President of Internal Affairs Nicole Lewis, will attend the, as I daresay, long-overdue Capostication ceremony in Timiocato. A date suitable to the three aforementioned honourables will be affixed soon.

Thank you and I personally, and on behalf of my government and the Republic of Pacitalia, wish Marcus Patinkin the best of luck as this chapter of his life ends and a new one begins, with so many positive opportunities on the road ahead. Congratulations!

Sincerely with good faith,
Timothy Ell
Prime Minister of Pacitalia

OOC: Ell would have done everything in his power to attend, but he is down with the flu, so just pretend that Bandanaris already arrived and is sitting in the front row. :p

Sakamoto's eyes narrowed as they observed Sarzo enter. He looked at Patinkin, standing miserably some distance away, and cracked a smile. Regardless of his feeling of inferiority, he felt sympathy for the poor fellow as he stood there, waving goodbye to his command and with it many years of history. Polite inattentiveness took over his conscious mind for a while, allowing him to concentrate on his primary task of observing the other delegates. He had studiedly arrived late, allowing him to stand quietly at the rear, and his last-minute choice to wear his "proper" black Admiral's uniform, rather than the white cloth of his dress kit, allowed him to be a little less conspicuous, to watch them all the better. There was the Scandavian, confident in her enormous battle-wagons that floated sedately in the harbour; and there, the Hamptonians, no doubt planning something ostentatiously spectacular to prove their might at sea. In the front row, Sakamoto chanced to see a Pacitalian - who, curiously, was sitting in the front row, seemingly alone, and apparently observing, like him, the dignities of the ceremony, aware full well of its true purpose. Again his face snarled, his upper lip curling and his muscles clenching with anger. He choked the anger down, shoved it back into his fired soul, and held his tongue, concentrating instead upon staying in the relatively shadowed, dark recess at the back of the vast hall. The anger burned away within him, flames reaching up his back and into his brain, and worked steadily away, inflaming his mind to fury. All these arrogant faces, all staring at one another and passing around their polite, vapid pleasantries, and all looking down on us. On US! Fists clenched, Sakamoto preserved his air of polite, respectful calm as his mind turned its raging energy towards the task which he now felt was his calling. You, your pleasantries, your cosy little world that you have fashioned around you.

It will all burn. And with it, will you burn.

OOC: Apologies for the tone of this, but Sakamoto's part of me. He's my ego multiplied by about 5,000 and given an inferiority complex on top of all that. Expect him to be a major character in future RPs...but anyway, yeah, no ill-will Sarz, or any of ya.

Sarzo stared out past the podium for a moment before he caught himself in a brief daze. The enormity of the ceremony at hand was starting to get to him, even though he'd been part of so many other ceremonies in the past. This was different. This was Sarzonia saying Godspeed to her greatest hero, and her most distinguished symbol of Sarzonia's success on the high seas. This was in front of one of the largest collections of allies in her history.

"My fellow Sarzonians, distinguished friends, and members of the Incorporated Sarzonian Navy, today is a bittersweet day for us all. Today, we say goodbye in a sense to two of our greatest heroes, but then we inaugurate two more to succeed them, though in a real sense, they can never be truly replaced.

"Today, Fleet Admiral Marcus David Patinkin officially retires from the Incorporated Sarzonian Navy and enters the next phase of his life as a civilian. Before his retirement is made final, I would like to ask him to step up here."

Patinkin walks slowly toward Sarzo, and the two men surprised many of the Sarzonians in attendance with an impromptu hug. Sarzonians are not known for public displays of affection beyond a handshake, so the crowd started murmuring as Sarzo and Patinkin hugged for 15 seconds, a period that was an eternity to a reserved people.

Finally, the hug ended and Sarzo turned back to the podium.

"The seventh star in the ISN ranking system is normally reserved for the President during peacetime, and is given to the highest ranking and most capable officer in the navy during times of war. However, due to a long and distinguished career, it is my distinct pleasure to announce that before Marcus David Patinkin retires, I grant him the title of Admiral of the Navy, with all the priviledges appertaining thereto. When he retires, he shall receive a pension worthy of that rank."

Sarzo paused for dramatic effect as the sound of applause slowly built into a loud, warm roar. He saw Patinkin start to choke up, so he smiled and turned back to the podium again. Patinkin walked slowly to the podium with a look of shock on his face. He shook Sarzo's hand, then turned to the podium, opened his mouth to speak and, nothing.

He closed his mouth, smiled slowly, and waited. Then he tried again. Still nothing. Finally, on his third attempt, he was able to speak.

OOC: Does Patinkin accept the nomination?

Fleet Admiral Logan noted the presence of both the Sarzonian government and the new Admiral of the Navy, as he stood up in sight of the individuals' entrances. Though only a stand was required for the leaders of an ally, he showed little hesitation for giving a salute, even though he was still recovering from the uncomfortableness that had resulted from the plane ride from the carrier. Admiring the elegant uniforms of other naval leaders, he once again reminded himself of the simplicity of his uniform - two shoulder rank insignias and a row of medal ribbons - though he too, remembered the necessarity of such being the leader of the Omzian Navy. Along with that however, a sense of comfort also leaked into his thoughts, as after so many years working only with Omzians, he was finally able to visit a foreign event, also attended by his allies and friends overseas and beyond. Though he still had reservations for this event, he was devoid of any sense of hostility, as a feeling of hospitality has welcomed him into the country as he conducted his third visit to Sarzonia just moments earlier.

Nevertheless, he spared no time for other things, and had his attention fixed on the drama on the two figures near the podium, only with a few casual blinkings for the sake of the moisture of his two dark eyes. Letting out a smile, he could almost feel the emotions between President Sarzo and Admiral of the Navy Patinkin, as such closeness and tightness of their relationship has astonished him as a fairly young, senior member of the Omzian Navy leadership. However, he could only congratulate both the President and Patinkin, for such rank - a seven-star rank - is not something that could be achieved so easily. Seven eh? Maybe I'll have to ask the president personally to create a seven-star rank sometimes later, he mused with a light thought.

OOC: Does Patinkin accept the nomination?[OOC: Of course! :D]

"I just want to take a moment to thank everyone for coming," Patinkin began slowly. "It's a tremendous honour to be here and stand before some of Sarzonia's and my closest friends and family today."

He chuckled nervously, then continued, "I'll have to admit the promotion came as a bit of a shock to me, you damn bastard," he said with a wry smile, looking at Sarzo as he spoke. Sarzo returned Patinkin's smile with one of his own. "And I am honoured, incredibly honoured, to accept the Capostication from our dear friends in Pacitalia. Reading those words from Prime Minister Ell was humbling, very humbling.

"It is both a glorious day for the ISN and for Sarzonia, and a sad day for us all. I don't like to say goodbye, just see ya later. I'll be keeping my eyes on you," he said with another nervous chuckle, doing his best to sound ominous as he caught the glance of Admiral Stephen Marcus. He stepped aside and Sarzo returned to the podium.

"Today is also the day that we bid goodbye to another dear old friend. He leaned back a couple of centimetres, then continued. "The ISS Praetonia has served this country with honour and distinction over her long career, first as the secondary flagship of the fleet, then as the flagship of the navy. During her time, she has seen many a battle and she has been the true vanguard of the ISN. So, it is with heavy hearts that we close a chapter of our navy's great history by sending the ISS Praetonia to autograph that chapter's end, both of hers and of the Freedom-class pocket superdreadnaught from the ISN's service.

"However, we also say hello to another friend, and one we hope will have her own distinguished career. The brand new Independence-class pocket superdreadnaught ISS Praetonia." Sarzo then pointed to a giant video display that showed the gleaming new warship as it steamed toward the rendevous point.

"The new ISS Praetonia is commanded by the man who will serve as our top sea dog with our distinguished friend's retirement. Admiral Stephen Marcus, I hereby name you Fleet Admiral with all the priviledges and repsonsibilities appertaining thereto, and I assign the new ISS Praetonia as the Nation's Flagship. This shall take effect upon the climax of the passing of the torch ceremony we have planned.

"Admiral Patinkin, would you do the honours?"

"Aye, sir." Patinkin turned to the bridge crew to utter one of his very last commands. "Take us out."

The grand dame's engines roared one last time as the ship began to leave the dock with flags flying on its way to meet her replacement.

HSH Duke Robert, HSH Duchess Sophia, and HRH Princess Catherine watched as the Praetonia left the dock. "She was a proud ship," Princess Catherine declared to her parents, "with a storied past." Even in her immaculate winter dress uniform, the solid golden band with loop at the jacket's cuffs and the golden braid and bobs of a senior staff officer and flag captain, she felt under-dressed in comparison to the great man on the podium. Even Sir Edward Auldenbruck, a fleet admiral and commander of the Home Fleet Group, seemed lacking in comparison with the man who had once been his equivalent in rank.

"He is a great man who will be sorely missed on the high seas," Duke Robert added.

"I'm simply glad he lived long enough to retire," Duchess Sophia replied. "After all the scrapes he's been in." The duke gingerly patted her arm as they carefully made their way back to their seats.

Princess Catherine made her way over to Fleet Admiral Auldenbruck. The tall man in his late-fifties, his dark brown hair greying from the politics that now dominated his lot, surveyed his contemporaries. "I envy him," the admiral announced. "Even after that last election tossed out Blakeney's wankers, I envy him." Despite his words, the princess didn't believe him, but followed his example in examining their fellow well-wishers.

It was a happy day, but both naval officers had learned to expect little from those...

[OOC: Apologies for the brevity.]

Duchess Harrington grinned as the boat got underway, she knew what we about to happen would be a big show for anybody who had never seen a Gehenna class, or any of the other battle-wagons, fire their guns. Turning slightly towards her battle line, she raised her arm and waived once. She could, very faintly, hear claxons and various captains over speaker saying, "General quarters, general quarters, general quarters. All persons man their stations and rig for air-tight operation. Prepare Sierra Foxtrot Sierra One coordinated salvo. I repeat, general quarters, general quarters..." and on it went for a full minute.

In the meantime the guns on her massive ships raised and the turrets slewed towards the Sarzonian flagship. It took the better part of three minutes to completely slew the turretto a perfect 45 degree angle on her flagship, but when it finally settled into place she did something that might have seemed odd, at the time, to the other people there. She stepped out of the crowed, walked towards the nearest railing, took off here beret, waved it over her head a couple of times, and in a sharp jerk brought it down.

In response the seven ships of her line of battle fired one gun each. With powder-fired 16" guns, one could feel the shockwave of their firing from a half mile away, with her ships it was more like a dozen miles. She relished the feeling as the vibrations washed over her, and then her ships fired another perfectly coordinate salvo. She looked down at her crono and noted their timing was perfect as well, a neat and clean thirty seconds. Five more times her dreadnaughts and superdreadnaughts fired, each as precise as the first and second shots. Once they had finished and started moving their guns into the "safe" position, she turned to President Sarzo and Admiral Patinkin and gave a formal bow, as if to say the honor was hers.

"Hmm, they do have a flair for the dramatic, don't they," Patinkin said out loud as the seven gun salute came from the Scandavian ships. He sat down in the command chair on the bridge of the old Praetonia one last time and peered out at the impressive display of firepower.

"Sir, we're getting a visual on the new Praetonia," the helmsman, a longtime commander in the ISN who had come out of retirement for this one last brief cruise.

"Let's have a look," Patinkin said. He looked and saw the gleaming new ship come into view. She wasn't nearly as big as the behemoths like the Gehenna-class or the Constitution-class, but she cast an impressive figure in her own right. The new warship trained its own guns to prepare a 21 gun salute to the venerable old ship as part of the official ceremony.

Aboard the new ship, Admiral Marcus gave the order.

"Prepare the firing sequence Tribute One. Fire on my command. Now!"

The 25 inch guns on the new ship trained and fired, with each gun firing twice simultaneously, later followed by one gun from each of the triple turrets firing one last time. That would serve as the 21 gun salute for the new flagship of the Sarzonian navy.

"Bring her alongside," Patinkin said.

"Aye, sir."

Within minutes, the two Praetonias were virtually side by side. Patinkin looked up at his broad pendant that was his unique signal to the fleet where he planned his strategies. Directly above that was the Sarzonian flag in its simple navy blue and white elegance. Both flags would have to come down and a pendant would go up on the new Praetonia for the soon to be Fleet Admiral Stephen Marcus.

"Bring 'er down," Patinkin said with a professional formality that masked his swirl of emotions in giving the command that would be the official beginning of the end of his military service. The commodore's pendant, so named in spite of his promotions over the years, was the official name given to the flag that signified a Sarzonian force's flagship, was being lowered for the final time and it was all Patinkin could do to keep from bursting into tears.

Two crewmen neatly folded the pendant and presented it to Patinkin and a plank was set up for Patinkin to cross to officially pass the mantle of the navy's top commander to Marcus. Sarzo picked up a package quietly and walked behind Patinkin, even though the admiral insisted that Sarzo walk in front. The two men reached the new ship and saw Admiral Marcus standing there.

"Permission to come aboard," Patinkin and Sarzo said in unison.

"Permission granted," Marcus said. "Truly, today is the best of times and the worst of times, hmm?"

Patinkin nodded while Sarzo grimaced. He hated Dickens and didn't like the reference, but now wasn't the time to make a stink about it.

"Mr. President?"

"Admiral Stephen Marcus, with the retirement of Admiral of the Navy Marcus David Patinkin from the Incorporated Sarzonian Navy, I do hereby affirm your promotion to the rank of Fleet Admiral, with all the prerogatives that command of the Navy provide." Sarzo pulled out a small box and pinned the rank insignia onto Marcus's chest, then held out the larger box.

"This is the commodore's pendant that signifies your command of any fleet in the Incorporated Sarzonian Navy. This pendant shall be your signal that you are to be accorded the respect due to Sarzonia's highest-ranking and most skilled naval officer." He handed the box to Marcus, who opened it. He chuckled slightly. "Fight crazy with crazy" was emblazoned in the bottom centre of the flag, along with a sketch of the USS Constitution, which sat in the harbour at Nicksia's Naval Museum.

"You may lift your pendant and fly her in the wind," Sarzo said. With that, Marcus hoisted the pendant on the new Praetonia. Then, Patinkin pulled out his sword, formerly a sign of surrender, but this time, it would carry a much different meaning. He handed it to Patinkin.

"Let the record show that as of now, Fleet Admiral Stephen Marcus shall now be accorded the honour of the highest ranking military officer in Sarzonia. May you continue to ply the seas with all the skill of your forebearers."

With that, the old Praetonia fired her own 21 gun salute as she prepared to set her course for the Navy Museum.

"I hereby honour the legendary flagship of our past," Sarzo said. "She has had a long and distinguished career, not unlike our legendary admiral. Now, I declare her a national historic landmark and charge the Naval Museum and Curator David Hancock Porter with her upkeep so that she and her posterity may forever serve as a symbol of Sarzonia's pride on the high seas."

With that, the new Praetonia set its course to return to the harbour while th old Praetonia set sail for its new berth at the Navy Museum and for history.

The ship's engines accelerated slightly beneath his feet. Sakamoto looked at the dejected Patinkin and sighed. As much as he disliked feeling so small among these oceanic titans, he felt an enormous rush of sympathy for the poor man. After a moment's quick consideration, he shrugged his shoulders decisively and approached the unhappy Patinkin.

"Greetings, Admiral." He saluted snappishly, and gave the quick half-bow his father had taught him, all those years ago in Yokosuka. "Allow me to introduce myself: Admiral Ayumi Sakamoto of the Navy of the Republic of DPUO." He extended his white-gloved hand. "It is my pleasure to be here, though I should not wonder if you do not feel the same way."