NationStates Jolt Archive

The Policy of Truth

OOC:
A long time ago, in my first RP, a small incident happened in which my Minister of War was killed in a “Terrorist Attack.” Well, this is the true story regarding the attack, why it happened and the effects it had. Now, where you come into this is the mafia involvement and other things, which will be further developed next post. I have to get to class right now, my college instructors aren’t to kindly when you’re late.

IC:

October 21, 2003

The rain poured down hard on the small coastal airstrip. Above the tropical Yucatán Peninsula, the night sky and thick cloud cover obscured any evidence of a moon. However, not even the driving rain and terrible weather could deter General Teraztlán Zazanilli, the chief of the military of the struggling Aztec Confederacy from completing his mission. It was no secret that he was against the newly elected Premier, the twenty-three year old idealist socialist Quetzalcoatl Nochtli, or his administration. However, what the administration was pushing forth could only be considered treason, and the General had to stop it.

The General’s black car pulled in quietly on to the airstrip, stopping next to the plane. It was an old plane, similar to a DC-3, but still decent. Quickly, the General got out of the car and was handed an umbrella. His olive green military uniform was faded, showing its age and the economic problems besieging the Confederacy. On his arm, five beat up chevrons showed his rank – leader of the ANL military.

“General,” his viceroy said, “You know after this, you can’t come back until after the coup.”

“It’s a risk I have to take.” The General solemnly resigned, plainly and without emotion.

With a group of folders tucked under his arm, he boarded onto the plane, leaving behind his career, his life and his family. Most considered him a radical in any case, even his wife and his own son supported the new socialist junta. Not Teraztlán, no way would he support power hungry socialists.

The plane door closed and the rattle of the turning engines increased. The plane slowly ascended into the air and into the rain clouds, hoping to escape undetected.

Below, back at the airstrip, three green military trucks pull into the airstrip, fully load loaded with JWIs – the newly formed Jaguar Warrior Infantrymen. Physically intimidating and well armed and protected with armor, the JWI’s could easily defeat the General’s supporters at the airstrip. Quickly, the General’s supporters pulled out their small TK-9/Ds and took aim.

“PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS!” Yelled out the lead JWI.

“No chance in hell!” Yelled out the Viceroy, as the sound of pistol rounds rung throughout the stormy air.

The sharp drill of the newly developed TZ-38 assault rifles bullets quickly defeated the small insurgency of supporters, either killing them or injuring them.

Meanwhile, in the airplane, the General sat back, unaware of his impending defeat. He finally felt at ease, not worried about being killed or captured. He pulled out his old fashioned TK-37/6 revolver on the seat next to him, in case he needed quick access to it.

Suddenly, the plane lurched forward and began to fly upwards. Teraztlán began to get a sensation of being upside down. The percussion of an explosion rocked the plane as the noise reverberated throughout the metal plane.

The general grabbed the intercom of the plane and yelled out “What the hell was that?”

“Incoming missiles!” A frantic voice screamed. Suddenly, the plane lurched forward again, fire engulfing the back of it. The plane quickly began to descend, the tail section ablaze. Teraztlán looked behind him, seeing the aft of the plane. It was almost completely gone, only shreds of metal and electric wires dotted t he back. Suddenly, the cabin jolted again, with such ferocity that the plane completely fell apart as it crashed into the turbulent sea.

=~=~=~=
In Rotovia

It was the first international meeting for the Premier and his Viceroy Coyotepec Xoxoctic. The occasion was the Third World Solidarity Conference, and the ANL was certainly third world. Although things were improving, the previous administrations had practically ruined the fledgling country’s economy. The young, twenty-three year old Premier sat quietly, listening to the other delegates. Far from his mind was the internal turbulences of his nation. However, his thoughts would soon be disrupted by a certain situation.

An aide came by and leaned next to the Premier. Quietly, he said, “Sir, the military is reporting that Operation: Internal Security has been completed. The plane was completely destroyed, along with the documents.”

The Premier made a sorrowful sigh, “Understood, I’ll make the announcement in a second.”

October 31, 2005

From the east, the glorious sun rose. Its warmth and radiance spread across the land known as the Socialist Republic of the Aztec National League. Long gone were the days of the Confederation - the old red and white flag of the Confederacy had long since been replaced by the Aztec Soviet flag (http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y50/Spectrechris/ANLFlag.gif). The government, now highly centralized is exponentially larger than the former. However, most striking was the economic prosperity that the ANL had. The market, the invisible hand that was supposed to regulate itself had nearly torn apart the nation. Although the economy grew slowly, it still was one of the most powerful in the world.

At the Zazanilli residence in the outskirts of Tenochitilán, the capital of Aztlán, Chief Warrior-General Tlanextic Zazanilli, stood before a mirror, preparing to brief the Premier. His crisp and pressed olive green NKVD-like military contrasted heavily with that of his father’s. Quietly, he put on his overcoat and cap, adjusting it to perfection.

He quietly walked over to his desk and gathered his neatly organized files. It was a big day for the military, as they would consider launching a new class of vessel. Although he knew the Premier would probably approve, he wanted to give the best appearance possible. After gathering his files, he looked over his shoulder towards the mantle of his very European like home. Above the mantle was a portrait of his father, who he so greatly admired. Sighing, he turned around and walked out to the porch where a car was waiting.

The car was typical of Aztec government cars and most Aztec cars in general. The car had sleek, elegant lines. Its obsidian black paint gleamed in the weakening fall sunlight. The whine of the distinctive rotary engine was a common sound of ANL cars, as most cars in the ANL were oddly enough, rotary powered. He quietly got into the front seat, next to his trusted driver.

It was only a short jaunt to the Premier’s adobe. An adobe was more typical in the ANL, more economical. After the short 15 minute ride, the car pulled into the Premier’s drive way, a non-descript road that leads you up a hill of various desert plants. The simple green iron gate protecting it was guarded by two visible JWIs…who knew how many JWIs were actually on the Premier’s residence.

The JWIs were even more intimidating then before. Considered to be the ANL’s most elite warriors, the JWIs went through the most extensive physical and weapons training. They were armed with the best weapons, the ANL’s newly developed TZ-140 and TK-45, and the 8” serrated double bladed hunting knife they used in close, hand to hand combat.

The lead JWI stepped up to the car window, “May I see your clearance.” The obsidian blade design tattooed into his brown forearm and the patch on his armored vest designated that he was part of the Obsidian Blade Order, the highest division of the JWIs. To be a warrior for the Obsidian Blade Order, you had to be the absolute best of the best, and 100% loyal to Aztlán. Although loyalty was naturally high amongst the troops and the population in general, the Obsidian Blade Order of the JWIs was the only division personally picked by the Premier to guard him. To a young JWI, it was the utmost honor.
Tlanextic reached over the driver’s shoulders and handed the JWI his ID card. As soon as the card was verified, the JWI saluted and said, “My Lord, you may proceed as requested.” (Ministers are usually referred to as Lords in the ANL.) With that the card was handed back and the iron gate slide open quietly.

The rotors in the engine buzzed with the addition of gasoline and the car was pushed by the rear wheels up the hill. The desert plants gave a feeling of desolation you feel in the desert. However, the desert plants soon gave way to Spanish style red tiles on the ground, and an old orange was revealed behind the curb.

The Minster of War stepped out of the car and walked into the adobe. It was strangely cool inside the dwelling, which was decorated with dark hard wood floors, plants and paintings. Tlanextic took a few steps forward, looking at one of the paintings- an ancient codex. Although being Aztec, he couldn’t read the people’s ancient language, he wasn’t given the opportunity to learn the language, nor did he have much reason to, English and Spanish was sufficient for the most part.

“Hello, General.” A woman’s voice said from behind him. The General turned around, a slender, young woman stood behind him.

“Ah, Angelica, how are you?” Asked the General

“Great, and yourself?”

“I’m alright.”

“Quetzalcoatl will be out in a second, in the interim, the Minister of the Navy is waiting in his office, I’ll take you there.”

Tlanextic nodded and followed Angelica through the adobe. He thought to himself, ‘Lucky bastard, that Quetzalcoatl. He was blessed with good looks and a powerful position and was able to get a nice wife.’ They walk through the patio to the back office, where Fleet Admiral Eric Thompson, leader of the Aztec Navy was sitting. They nodded to each other quietly. Although they have had tension and disagreements before, they also had a tremendous amount of respect for each other.

“So, ready to talk about the Excelsior?” Asked the Admiral.

“Whenever the Premier gets in.”

Premier Quetzalcoatl Nochtli walked into the room a few seconds after. Although the stress of his job hadn’t taken much impact on his looks, he had developed bags under his eyes from sleep deprivation and stress.

“So, let’s start talking.” The Premier said as he sat behind his desk.

SEVERAL HOURS LATER

The General said in a pleased tone, “So, I guess we’re done here. Glad to hear we have a new heavy battle cruiser to relieve the, uh, current class.”

Tense silence followed, they all knew that the Teraztlán class was named after his father who was killed in 2003. “Well, is there anything else we need to know about?” Quetzalcoatl asked.

They other two were silent.

“Well, let’s get back to our lives.”

The three got up and walked over to the door. Admiral Thompson’s uniform was similar to Tlanextic’s uniform, as were all ANL military dress uniforms. However, the Admiral’s uniform was black with red epilates, as opposed to the General’s green and red uniform.

“Sir,” the General asked Quetzalcoatl, “I need to talk to you about a personal affair.”

“Understood, take care Admiral.”

Tlanextic and Quetzalcoatl turned around and walked into a room. Ancient swords and shields decorated the wall. Along with the old weaponry was modern weaponry from the Aztec civil war in 1994-1996 and the resulting war between what was then the Mexican Union and the Aztec Confederacy. An assault rifle, pistols, a sweat stained and mud caked armored vest, a knife and other war related items.

“Memories,” Quetzalcoatl said, “Remember when we were just Aztecs, with no rights to reason. Remember fighting side by side against the Union?”

“Yes, vividly; hard to say those were the days, though.” Tlanextic said.

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“It’s my father, I know the papers and documents surrounding his death are kept in secret, but I want to know what happened to him, why he died and who killed him.”

Quetzalcoatl hated to lie, especially to his friends and people he owed his life to. But, this was politics, “I honestly haven’t looked at those papers, I don’t even know what was in them. The only person who does know unfortunately…”

“Yes, I know what that traitor did, and he got what he had coming to him.” Said Tlanextic. He remembered when in the ANL Civil War in 2004 when a prominent General betrayed the people and defected to what was then Communist Mississippi, could’ve killed millions of Aztecs if it hadn’t been for the efforts of two people.

“Well, sir, I just wanted to know if you knew. I guess I’ll take off then.”

They shook each other’s hands, feeling a tension between the two. This was unusual, they trusted each other completely, yet they both knew there was an unspoken truth.

Tlanextic walked out of the Premier’s adobe and got in the car. As the car began driving away, he thought to himself, ‘There has to be another way to know.’