Azazia
20-09-2005, 05:44
Pristine, eh lad?
Who would have ever thought we’d see an island with bloody trees on it? In a fucking forest no less.
Corporal Leander whistled through his teeth and took a breath of clean air – not air deemed to be relatively clean of toxic pollutants and industrial byproducts, but an air not yet rooted in the pollution accompanying industrialization. For kilometers he saw nothing but grassland, with only the distant outlines of rigid mountain cliffs dimmed by the effects of atmospheric perspective. To his east, Leander spotted the small amphibious warfare ship at anchor off the coast with the little landing craft situated below a rise in a wide, sweeping harbour covered with clear, transparent waters and warm white sand. Among him were a few privates, also members of the Royal Marines, who had been dispatched along with the initial surveyors who would be calling this island home for the next few months if not years of their lives.
Erik DeBoer stretched his toned arms out, high above his head, taking in a deep breath just like Corporal Leander. DeBoer had been assigned the position of lead surveyor for this newest acquisition by His Majesty’s Government. In a red leather folder clutched high above his head were satellite photographs of the newest colony in the United Kingdom. Not particularly large, measuring a mere 40,000 km², the island would provide growing room for several million enterprising citizens wishing to try their hand at building a new utopia, a new commercial jewel in the crown, a rebirth of a culture rudely shocked at the horrors of war brought to its own backyard. And as DeBoer took his long fingers to pry open the folder, he read with pride the name of the new colony, Atlantis, with the eponymous colonial capital and its twin – also along the coast – named Phoenix.
The initial landing party had found very little worth writing home about – economically speaking – as the island had few natural resources worth any value, at least relatively close to the surface. However, of some interest was the thick jungle to the west of the prime cities of the new colony, a jungle that could very well be hiding lodes of minerals or families of flora and fauna that might fetch a handsome price on the home market. But DeBoer’s first priority was the establishment of shelter for the colony’s first inhabitants. With the surveyors had landed a battalion of Royal Marines under the command of Brigadier Alexei Sevnik, nominally in charge of the entire colonization effort. .
Sevnik, a rather rotund soldier accustomed to warfare – having returned from duty in Novikov – now found his soldiering skills being put aside in the interest of colony building. With a well-trimmed black mustache, Sevnik smiled as he watched his men hauling crate after crate of rations, tools, machinery, and diesel fuel for the machinery from the cargo flights of the air-cushioned landing craft tasked with offloading his supplies. To Sevnik, the idea of building a new colony was laughable as the United Kingdom had just acquired a massive new piece of real-estate in Novikov. Yet, he now had a moment in history in which he could personally stamp his own legacy onto the history of Atlantis, a name he found odd solely for its connection with a horrific destruction brought upon by avarice and decadence. There was little official work for Sevnik to do as his deputies had been ordered to supervise the unloading process and while the surveyors did their final surveys for the final location of the base camp that would, in time, become the center of the new city of Atlantis.
The following morning, Sevnik gripped his sidearm tightly, listening to the strange cooing of birds and growls, moans, and howls from carnivores inhabiting the jungle but stalking prey on the grassland where Sevnik’s whole team had dug foxholes and laid out tents. Owing to his military background, several sentries stood guard against small mammalian herbivores that jumped and frolicked amongst the tents as they had not yet been fully made aware of the true dangers of the savage beast called man. And so despite the heavy machine guns and rocket launchers and anti-aircraft missile batteries, despite the temporary radar station and communications trailer, Sevnik rose from his sleeping bag at first light having not slept well at all.
Meanwhile, in another tent closer to the shore, DeBoer awoke to the soft sounds of the waves breaking upon the sand – a noise which awoke him most slowly. Unknowingly he found himself walking towards the showering facility installed for officers and surveyors, the remaining men only showering upon their return to the offshore amphibious ship. He found waiting in line Brigadier Sevnik with heavy bags under his eyes.
Didn’t sleep well, Brigadier?
Nyet, Mr. DeBoer. The two stood in awkward silence as DeBoer ran through potential conversations in his head and as Sevnik contemplated the number of times he had been awoken to find the enemy pressing his flank and the utter lack of sense this new island made. Finally, Sevnik brought the silence to an end.
So what have we got to do in order to make this place a reality?
Quite a lot, sir. First will be the creation of housing and shelter, which will require raw materials – for which I have a plan.
Go on.
Well, sir, DeBoer handed the brigadier a towel as two adjacent stalls became available for their use. Turning the water on, DeBoer continued his conversation, albeit at a louder volume. Well, sir, the jungle has sufficient lumber for an initial supply of building materials while the mountains to the north can likely offer us a quarry for useable rocks, boulders, and stone. The key will be to establishing a lumber yard at the periphery of the forest and a quarry near the mountains, both of which can supply us with the resources required to build you and your men proper barracks, and my own staff our own living places.
That’s all well and good, Mr. DeBoer, but how do you plan on getting those chopped trees here to Atlantis.
Excellent question, sir. Through rails. Onboard the ship we have dozens of kilometers of spare rails from which we can connect these two resource centres to the capital city. I envision that for now, a modestly powerful engine would suffice, though in the future, as residences crop up around these mining and cutting towns, we will need to purchase and then import high-speed trains. This of course does not include the development of a reliable, and reusable port system that will facilitate the arrival of resources and the export of our finished products.
Sounds ambitious…
Sir, I’d expect nothing less from the United Kingdom.
Who would have ever thought we’d see an island with bloody trees on it? In a fucking forest no less.
Corporal Leander whistled through his teeth and took a breath of clean air – not air deemed to be relatively clean of toxic pollutants and industrial byproducts, but an air not yet rooted in the pollution accompanying industrialization. For kilometers he saw nothing but grassland, with only the distant outlines of rigid mountain cliffs dimmed by the effects of atmospheric perspective. To his east, Leander spotted the small amphibious warfare ship at anchor off the coast with the little landing craft situated below a rise in a wide, sweeping harbour covered with clear, transparent waters and warm white sand. Among him were a few privates, also members of the Royal Marines, who had been dispatched along with the initial surveyors who would be calling this island home for the next few months if not years of their lives.
Erik DeBoer stretched his toned arms out, high above his head, taking in a deep breath just like Corporal Leander. DeBoer had been assigned the position of lead surveyor for this newest acquisition by His Majesty’s Government. In a red leather folder clutched high above his head were satellite photographs of the newest colony in the United Kingdom. Not particularly large, measuring a mere 40,000 km², the island would provide growing room for several million enterprising citizens wishing to try their hand at building a new utopia, a new commercial jewel in the crown, a rebirth of a culture rudely shocked at the horrors of war brought to its own backyard. And as DeBoer took his long fingers to pry open the folder, he read with pride the name of the new colony, Atlantis, with the eponymous colonial capital and its twin – also along the coast – named Phoenix.
The initial landing party had found very little worth writing home about – economically speaking – as the island had few natural resources worth any value, at least relatively close to the surface. However, of some interest was the thick jungle to the west of the prime cities of the new colony, a jungle that could very well be hiding lodes of minerals or families of flora and fauna that might fetch a handsome price on the home market. But DeBoer’s first priority was the establishment of shelter for the colony’s first inhabitants. With the surveyors had landed a battalion of Royal Marines under the command of Brigadier Alexei Sevnik, nominally in charge of the entire colonization effort. .
Sevnik, a rather rotund soldier accustomed to warfare – having returned from duty in Novikov – now found his soldiering skills being put aside in the interest of colony building. With a well-trimmed black mustache, Sevnik smiled as he watched his men hauling crate after crate of rations, tools, machinery, and diesel fuel for the machinery from the cargo flights of the air-cushioned landing craft tasked with offloading his supplies. To Sevnik, the idea of building a new colony was laughable as the United Kingdom had just acquired a massive new piece of real-estate in Novikov. Yet, he now had a moment in history in which he could personally stamp his own legacy onto the history of Atlantis, a name he found odd solely for its connection with a horrific destruction brought upon by avarice and decadence. There was little official work for Sevnik to do as his deputies had been ordered to supervise the unloading process and while the surveyors did their final surveys for the final location of the base camp that would, in time, become the center of the new city of Atlantis.
The following morning, Sevnik gripped his sidearm tightly, listening to the strange cooing of birds and growls, moans, and howls from carnivores inhabiting the jungle but stalking prey on the grassland where Sevnik’s whole team had dug foxholes and laid out tents. Owing to his military background, several sentries stood guard against small mammalian herbivores that jumped and frolicked amongst the tents as they had not yet been fully made aware of the true dangers of the savage beast called man. And so despite the heavy machine guns and rocket launchers and anti-aircraft missile batteries, despite the temporary radar station and communications trailer, Sevnik rose from his sleeping bag at first light having not slept well at all.
Meanwhile, in another tent closer to the shore, DeBoer awoke to the soft sounds of the waves breaking upon the sand – a noise which awoke him most slowly. Unknowingly he found himself walking towards the showering facility installed for officers and surveyors, the remaining men only showering upon their return to the offshore amphibious ship. He found waiting in line Brigadier Sevnik with heavy bags under his eyes.
Didn’t sleep well, Brigadier?
Nyet, Mr. DeBoer. The two stood in awkward silence as DeBoer ran through potential conversations in his head and as Sevnik contemplated the number of times he had been awoken to find the enemy pressing his flank and the utter lack of sense this new island made. Finally, Sevnik brought the silence to an end.
So what have we got to do in order to make this place a reality?
Quite a lot, sir. First will be the creation of housing and shelter, which will require raw materials – for which I have a plan.
Go on.
Well, sir, DeBoer handed the brigadier a towel as two adjacent stalls became available for their use. Turning the water on, DeBoer continued his conversation, albeit at a louder volume. Well, sir, the jungle has sufficient lumber for an initial supply of building materials while the mountains to the north can likely offer us a quarry for useable rocks, boulders, and stone. The key will be to establishing a lumber yard at the periphery of the forest and a quarry near the mountains, both of which can supply us with the resources required to build you and your men proper barracks, and my own staff our own living places.
That’s all well and good, Mr. DeBoer, but how do you plan on getting those chopped trees here to Atlantis.
Excellent question, sir. Through rails. Onboard the ship we have dozens of kilometers of spare rails from which we can connect these two resource centres to the capital city. I envision that for now, a modestly powerful engine would suffice, though in the future, as residences crop up around these mining and cutting towns, we will need to purchase and then import high-speed trains. This of course does not include the development of a reliable, and reusable port system that will facilitate the arrival of resources and the export of our finished products.
Sounds ambitious…
Sir, I’d expect nothing less from the United Kingdom.