NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This takes place in the aftermath of this thread here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=423535

Prime Minister Taunja Lockeheart of the Kingdom of Romandeos had been sailing on the immense Nanticoke-Class heavy carrier HMRS King Darryl Ureno I for ten hours hoping her boss, His Royal Majesty King Christian Woodburne I, would arrive. He was already a little more than an hour late, and she was starting to worry about him. She was sitting in a little room reserved for guests (She had refused to take the Fleet Admiral’s Quarters) with hot coffee from the Fleet Admiral’s own supply and a chicken sandwich waiting for some kind of news on the present situation, no matter what it was.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door to her quarters.

“Yes?” she called out. The door slid open and the Navy rating serving as her guard poked his head in and saluted.

“My apologies for the disturbance, Ma’am, but we have the casualty reports,” he said.

“Do you?” Lockeheart said, perking up at once.

“It isn’t good, Ma’am,” he replied. “His Majesty is dead.”

“WHAT!?!” Lockeheart exclaimed, sitting up straight, almost spilling her coffee.

“Reports say his chopper crashed shortly after setting out, Ma’am,” he said.

“I…I see,” Lockeheart said, her brown-eyed gaze dropping to the deck.

“I’m afraid there is worse news, Ma’am,” the young sailor reported.

“What could possibly be worse than what you just told me?” Lockeheart replied. “Do you have any idea how much this will demoralize the people?”

“First Sea Lord Admiral Jamie Linda and Commandant Admiral Kurt Russom are dead,” he answered simply.

“…Shit,” Lockeheart declared. “That is bad. What of the First Surface Marshall?”

“General Carlock is alive and heading our way,” was the reply.

“So you’re telling me that only one Branch Chief is still alive?”

“It looks that way, Ma’am.”

“Is there anything else?” Lockeheart asked.

“It seems the whole Cabinet and at least part of Parliament survived, Ma’am, and so did a large portion of the military’s leadership cadre, but overall, casualties are still pretty bad.”

Lockeheart cursed again.

“You may go,” she told the young man. “Make sure to inform me if anything happens.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, then saluted and left.

Lockeheart hung her head and returned to her coffee.

____________


"Welcome to back PRA News. For weeks, a deadly virus has been rampaging across the country of Romandeos, leaving tens of thousands dead. The disease seems to have first broken out in the cities of Tasmardonia, Japova, Segonas, Austras, and Tranis nearly simultaneously. The epidemic seems to have been largely contained in these areas, although it has claimed many government officials, including two of the military Branch Chiefs, First Sea Lord Admiral Jamie Linda and Commandant Admiral Kurt Russom. It is also rumored that the Romandean monarch has also succumbed to the disease, along with Prime Minister Lockeheart. These rumors have not been confirmed as of yet, as both have been quarantined since the outbreak."

____________


Leaning back in his chair, the Director smiled. The weapon had functioned marvelously, his agents had given their lives to deploy the devices in the most efficient method possible. With thousands dead, Romandeos would be in chaos, a fitting punishment for the foolish ingrates. Walking out of his office, he turned to his secretary.

"Bill, cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day. I feel like celebrating."

Prime Minister Lockeheart walked into the ready room of the carrier in a huff, clutching a little white piece of paper in her hands and reading it to herself in silence.

“Ten-SHUN!” roared the voice of First Surface Marshall General Selena Carlock, and the half dozen or so people in the room stood up and snapped to attention. Lockeheart looked like she could have a heart attack from shock for a moment before she recomposed.

“Be seated, everybody,” she said, and everyone sat down again. Lockeheart looked about, identifying everybody before speaking again.

First was General Selena Carlock, who had called the room to attention. Commanding the Royal Army was a tough job, and the now only slightly aging Carlock was very good at it if Lockeheart was any judge. Her piercing gray-eyed stare could shake people to the Core like nothing else Lockeheart had ever witnessed before. She had lost two of her daughters in the peak times of the plague, leaving her with only one child. She was probably hurting like heck right now and wanted to find those responsible for it.

Next was Second Sea Lord Vice Admiral Phillip Millsaps, the man in command of Royal Navy operations since the death of the First Sea Lord. In stark contrast to Carlock, he was likely the most pathetic-looking person Lockeheart had ever seen in her life, wiry looking in the extreme, with a pair of thick-lens glasses that made him look like a librarian, but he had proven himself a good officer so far, hence his high rank.

Next to him was Deputy Commandant Vice-Admiral Arnold Hershberger, a very normal-looking individual of average height and size, with brown eyes, and hair to match. He was incredibly plain in every physical respect, and Lockeheart knew very little of him.

Next in line was Rear-Admiral Upper Half Kurt Schwanawede, the Fleet Admiral.

Behind the military officers was a pair of civilian press officials.

“Let’s get to business, people,” she said. “Talk to me.”

“Madame Prime Minister,” General Carlock started. “My people have taken some serious hits from this plague. I have lost a number of my senior officers, some of the line soldiers have also fallen ill, and many of my people in the field want martial law.”

“Is it bad enough for that in your opinion, General?” Lockeheart asked.

“It is, Ma’am, I think so,” Carlock replied.

“Admiral Millsaps?” Lockeheart asked.

“Aside from Admiral Linda himself and some of our senior staffers in the capital city, the Navy seems to be very lightly affected, what with most of our ships based overseas, and a lot of them already out at sea when the plague started.”

Lockeheart nodded, and her lips curved in an almost-smile.

“Admiral Hershberger?” she asked the Deputy Commandant.

“Basically, we’re similar to the Navy, only somewhat worse personel loss,” he answered.

“Right,” Lockeheart said. “Moving along, who are these people?” she pointed to the two individuals in the background.

“These are two press officials from the capital. Rumor has it you are dead, so we took the liberty of having someone come aboard to show the people you are alive,” Carlock said.

“Do you mean they want an interview?” Lockeheart asked.

“Essentially,” one of them said, earning a glare from Schwanawede.

“Let’s do it then,” Lockeheart said. “Let’s do it right now.”

***ONE HOUR LATER***

Lockeheart watched as the cameraman counted down the seconds to when they would be live and broadcasting. At his signal, she looked to the camera and began speaking.

“My fellow Romandeosians, as you all know by now, we have recently been struck by an illness known only as the Plague. Thousands have perished, and many more are homeless in the aftermath of this terrible sickness.

Perhaps you have heard the rumors that King Christian and myself are both dead. Well, it is likely obvious to you now that I am alive. However, sadly, His Majesty is, indeed, dead like the rumors say. He was on his way to arrange a meeting with me when his helicopter, likely struck by engine difficulties, crashed, killing all aboard.”

Lockeheart paused for a moment before continuing.

“Friends, this is not the end. Our Monarch is dead, as are thousands of our people, but the idea that the nation is finished is foolish. The majority of us remain alive, including many leaders of industry, politics and the military. We can and will overcome this terrible thing in the way our ancestors would expect us to do-with courage, strength, and determination, like they themselves would have done in our place.”

Pausing again, her eyes hardened, and then she continued.

“It has come to our attention that this plague is likely not entirely of natural origins, that a horrible, insidious foreign power seeks to do us harm. Rest assured that if this is true, and it very well could be, we will find and punish those responsible.

For the time being, however, we must tend to the home front. For the time being, we have little choice but to institute martial law in the whole of the Kingdom, no exceptions. Also, it has been decided to call up all Reserve forces at once to deal with this crisis.”

Lockeheart paused again.

“Fellow citizens, rest assured that these orders are simple temporary precautions meant to keep you safe, and normal law will be restored.”

Her eyes darkened once again, and she looked angry.

“If this plague is the work of a foreign power,” she said. “Do not kid yourselves, we shall keep looking until we find you, and then we will punish you.

Fellow citizens that is all I have to say at this time. Good night, and God bless you all.”

The Director watched the broadcast, his temper slowly rising. Controlling himself, he downed his glass of wine, slamming it down on the bar. Noticing everyone go silent, he looked around, and noticed the blood flowing from his tightly clenched hand, the shattered stem of the wine glass cutting into his palm. Cursing softly, he walked briskly into the bathroom.

As he cleaned the glass from his wound, he brooded silently about the whole affair. I lose some of my best agents, decimate their population, and this is how the Romandeosians react? BASTARDS! I wanted them to beg, to cry on their knees, not this. One way or another, those bastards will get what's coming to them. I'll hear their sobs if its the last thing I do...

Regent-Elect Quetzal smiled as he looked through the bullet-proof glass. Below in the courtyard, the prototype of the new Anansi multiped was being tested. Via remote, an operator shot it around the courtyard, pushing it to move at top speed, and displaying its mobility. Dancing around a obstacle, it fired a quick burst from its weaponry, shredding a dummy target.

"So, what do you think, Mr. CEO?"

Quetzal's smile widened.

"These things are great! The Samurai should love these guys for patrol work. So, how far are they from production?"

"Probably about a year, sir. There's still several kinks to work out, and we need to work on the wireless signal. The range is currently only about a kilometer before it gets dangerously weak. Still, I guarantee they'll be on the streets by next December."

"Good work. Well, this seems to be all I need to see. Congrats, doc, you're keeping your funding for at least a few more years."

Shaking hands, the scientist and CEO parted. Walking out to his limo, Quetzal felt the buzz of his phone. Picking it up, he answered to hear the voice of his security chief.

"Mr. Regent, sir, we have a situation."

PM Lockeheart stood in the ready room of the HMRS King Darryl Ureno I looking down in disgust at a folder in her hands. It held the casualty reports, reports of some rioting, and intelligence reports concerning potential backers of the recent biological attacks.

“Madame Prime Minister?” asked Jamie Bladen, the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

“In a moment, Jamie,” she answered, holding up a hand. She was happy Bladen was alive in the aftermath of the attacks, as was the rest of the Cabinet. They were all skilled people in their fields of expertise, and having to pick replacements would have been troublesome in a turbulent time like the present. When she learned they were all alive, she decided that it would be best for them to meet with her aboard the Ureno.

“Minister Gassert,” she said, addressing Minister of Homeland Security Christian Gassert in a hushed, shaken tone. “These reports are accurate?”

“Exactly accurate, Madame Prime Minister,” the aging Minister replied.

“Then it was the Otagians,” she said. “Damn!”

She paused for a moment.

“Why did you not see this coming, Minister Gassert?” she asked. “Is that not your job?”

For a moment, Gassert looked a little shocked.

“Madame Prime Minister,” he said. “I do not think-“

“Never mind,” Lockeheart cut him off with a dismissive wave. “What matters now is that it is clear Romandeos has been the victim of a deliberate attack. We have to do something in response, and soon, or we invite further strikes.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound being a knock at the doorway.

“Come in,” Lockeheart called. The door opened, and a rating walked in, carrying a packet in one hand and an envelope in his other hand. He went up to Lockeheart with both items.

“Messages from the Parliament, Madame Prime Minister,” he stated.

Lockeheart took them and dismissed the rating. Opening the packet, she pulled out papers loaded down with more figures. This time it showed which of the Members of Parliament had not survived the plague. There were a lot of them.

“Parliament has lost over 50% of their Membership,” she announced to the room.

“Holy…” someone muttered.

“Damn right,” Lockeheart replied to whoever it was. She then opened the envelope. What it said had to be important, as it bore the official Seal of the Parliament.

“What does it say?” asked Minister of Defense Darren Ankney.

“It says the surviving Members of Parliament have held a vote on what to do now that the King has been killed,” Lockeheart informed the room.

“What have they decided, then?” Ankney asked.

“They have voted to grant me Emergency Powers and to appoint me as Regent,” she said.

Everybody present was clearly shocked. Emergency Powers meant Lockeheart could take immediate and total control of every aspect of the military and government.

“Right,” she said to the silent room. “Let’s get to business. I want a list of major factories in the country capable of producing weapons in my hands by this evening. I want soldiers in the streets in every major city by six o’clock tomorrow morning. I want ships guarding in every major port as soon as possible and those not doing that to be patrolling the coasts in order to prevent further hostile actions against the country. Do you all understand?”

Nodding heads around the room answered her question.

“Very well,” she said. “In addition, there is to be a national curfew of ten o’clock at night in order to ease the burden on our troops. Anybody found out after that will be questioned in order to determine their reasons for being out, and will be subjected to ten lashes and at least twelve hours imprisonment, worse if they are found to have criminal intent.”

“You want our soldiers to whip people if they’re out after curfew?” Bladen exclaimed.

“Exactly, Jamie,” Lockeheart nodded. “If we are stern from the beginning, people are less likely to challenge us later on because they’ll know the punishments will only get worse.”

“I…I guess that makes sense,” Bladen said.

“Darn right it does,” Lockeheart said. “I also want a letter sent to the Otagians. Reports in here,” she tapped the folder she had been holding at the start of the meeting. “Show that it is likely they are responsible for the attacks. I want to request an envoy.”

Bladen nodded.

“Alright,” Lockeheart said. “We will meet again when you have seen to your tasks."


OOC: Otagia, I hope you don't mind me not actually writing out the note, but my wrists ache already from writing this.

The Regent sat down in the end seat at the long table, surrounded by his Board of Directors. Looking around, he noticed a single man missing. Putting that aside for now, he turned to business at hand.

"What have we got?"

The Chief of Security stood.

"What we have, sir, is a grade-A shitstorm. The actions of a PRA employee may very well have provoked a war with the nation of Romandeos."

"Shit. Who the hell was it?"

"The only man not here, sir. The Director of Creative Weapons."

"Oh holy hell... Creative Weapons is in charge of our Bio-Chem research and development, correct?"

"Correct, sir. It would appear that the Director took a Romandeosian comment on PRA's Biochem program personally. The evidence points to him using PRA:CW Tengu assassins to deliver a virus to Romandeos, and infect several cities. The virus was Generation disease..."

"Dear God... What the hell was the man thinking? Is he insane?"

"Most likely, Mr. Regent. Death tolls are in the hundreds of thousands, with roughly half of the Romandeosian Parliament and the King also claimed in the attack. This has lead to Martial Law being declared by the Prime Minister, who has also become aware of Pale Rider Arms involvement. Although she has sent a message stating her willingness to begin talks, we expect a formal declaration of war soon."

"Good lord... Mobilize the armed forces, and for the love of god, deny Otagian involvement, play it off as the work of a deranged official. Hell, that's what it is, but somehow I doubt they're going to buy it. Wire a response to her, tell her I accept the offer and will handle it personally. And call up a press conference. I have some damage control to do...

“Madame Prime Minister,” MFA Jamie Bladen said. “We have received word that Otagia is preparing to send in a diplomatic team, as per your request.”

“Good to hear, Jamie,” Lockeheart responded. The whole Cabinet had assembled again to look things over now that they had seen to their assigned tasks. “Now, how many soldiers in the Royal Army have responded to the call-ups?”

Minister of Defense Ankney looked at a piece of paper in front of him on the table.

“It seems that just about everybody who survived has reported in, Ma’am,” he said.

“How many did we lose?” Lockeheart asked.

“Reports are still coming in. The numbers are unclear right now,” Ankney said.

Lockeheart nodded.

“Minister Ankney,” she said. “I want you to have recruiting offices set up. Make enlisting in the Royal Armed Forces seem as appealing as possible.”

“That won’t be hard,” said Minister of Transport Darren Eager. “The people are so pissed it’ll be a miracle if we can keep people out of the Service!”

Lockeheart burst out laughing at that, along with most of the room.

“Maybe so, Minister,” she said as she regained her composure. “We need to give the rage in the general population a main focus. The moment the general public figures out Otagia is responsible for the deaths, they’ll want us to attack the Otagians, and we will be forced into complying with their wishes if we all want to keep our jobs.”

“Do you mean to say conflict is inevitable?” asked Minister of Finances Hugh Plantz.

“I find that rather depressing,” said Minister of Agriculture Penelope Duncan.

“Depressing or not, it’s the way things are,” Lockeheart snapped. “All we can really do is hold things stable long enough for us to be ready when war does break out.”

Her statement was greeted with silence.

“What’s the word on the message we sent to Otagia?” Lockeheart asked.

“It seems they are willing to talk. Their Regent is going to handle it,” MFA Bladen said.

“Right,” Lockeheart said. “I have some internal matters to deal with. Is that lady from the Parliament I sent for here yet?”

“Michelle Jouvin?” Bladen asked, referring to a young Member of Parliament Lockeheart had asked to be brought out from the mainland to meet with her personally. “I’ll check.”

Lockeheart nodded her head and Bladen got up and exited. Moments later, he came back.

“She is aboard the ship, Madame Regent, and is heading here now.”

“Excellent,” Lockeheart said. “I have a special job for her to do.”

“What kind of job is that?” asked Minister Gassert.

“First of all, Minister Gassert,” Lockeheart said bluntly. “She will be replacing you.”

“…What?” Gassert asked. He seemed shaken by the sudden declaration.

“You’re fired, Minister,” Lockeheart clarified. “You failed in your sacred duties, and thus it is my decision that you must be replaced.”

“She has a point, Chris,” said Minister of Justice Lonnie Theberge.

“You’ll be joining him,” Lockeheart said, causing Theberge to look at her in shock.

“What? Why?”

“Because you have failed to bring any of the attackers to justice, we have no way to make it clear to the international community that Otagia launched this attack.” Lockeheart said.

“Madame Regent-” Minister Bladen began.

“Yes, that would be me,” Lockeheart cut him off. “And my decision has been made.”

“Is there anything else we should know about?” Minister Plantz asked.

“Yes,” Lockeheart said. “The rest of my intentions will be made clear once Jouvin arrives in just a few minutes. I have an important task for her to do.”

Maybe four minutes later, a Navy rating opened the door, and a young woman walked in.

“Madame Regent?” she asked, looking directly at Lockeheart.

“Please come in, Miss Jouvin,” Lockeheart said. “There is something we must discuss.”

Looking somewhat confused, Jouvin walked further into the room. She remained up-right in light of the fact that there were no chairs.

“Minister Gassert, Minister Theberge, please leave at once,” Lockeheart ordered.

Both men stood up after a moment and left in silence, leaving two chairs vacant.

“Pick a chair, Miss Jouvin,” Lockeheart said with a smile. Jouvin stood still for a moment like she was not sure what to do, but then she walked over to Minister Gassert’s chair and lowered into it.

“Now, Miss Jouvin,” Lockeheart said. “There is something we must discuss.”

OOC: I am going to post the formation of the MSS in another thread, Otagia. I’ll send the link to you once it is posted.

OOC: Blargh. Took me damn long enough to write this post. Sorry for the wait, I only hope you're still alive somewhere. I've also taken the liberty of jumping ahead to the talks.

IC:

The trio of Thunderbirds set down lightly on the landing pad, their jet engines spinning to a halt as the first Red Samurai stepped forth. Scanning the area, the Sergeant lowered his M22 and nodded to the Samurai closest to the the plane. Reaching up, the officer helped a slender, pale-skinned man from the VTOL, bowing respectfully as he did so. Nodding, the man smoothed his white trench coat and smiled at the Romandeosean official standing at the door.

"Sir, a pleasure to meet you. Would you please go and tell the Regent that RE Quetzal has arrived?"

OOC: I hate posting pics of characters, but I couldn't resist. Regent Elect Daniel Quetzal. (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v652/blaesa/Danieltux.jpg)