Flightopia
11-04-2006, 07:39
On Board Kimbu Kargo Flight 2332
2157 Hours Flightopian Standard Time (FST)
Captain Bob Jaland was ready to land his 777. This flight had sucked. They were two hours late departing San Shawne due to the last minting loading of some unmarked container. But, it had documentation so it went on. The lights of Kimbu where gorgeous tonight though. He could see the section where his family’s apartment was. If the traffic didn’t come to a halt out of the airport he could get home in time to catch the late night shows with his wife and tuck his kids in. The massive city, the third largest in Flightopia, with a population of about 45 million was an oasis in this harsh dessert.
“Landing checklist please Jim,” Bob quipped to his first officer, Vasili Newcastle.
“Here you are.”
The items were read and completed just as the aircraft turned into the visual approach pattern at an altitude of 6,000 ft. Bob looked down and admired the softy lit pinnacle that was the city’s city hall. He looked at the clock, it read 2159, and he felt glad that the checklist had gone so fast, then there was a brillient flash. His world and that of 45 million people then became absolute nothingness.
On the Flightopian Airborne Crisis Command Center (FACCC)
8 Hours Later...
The past seven or so hours had been a modern-day nightmare for the Flightopian president, Hunter Alldredge. He was In the Presidential Apartment when there was a bright flash off to the west. It took a few minutes for him and the Presidential Guard to realize it was a nuclear blast. In no time he was rushed to a waiting chopper. 25 minutes later, after a flight over the now anarchic cipital city he was aboard the FACCC, a modidifed Airbus A380, along with the vice-president and 12 of his 15 cabinet members. He was currently in the joint conference room where the chairman of the FEDARA (Federal Emergency, Disaster, or Attack Response Administration), Kip Latem was giving a current sitrep. The numbers were not good. The city of Kimbu was gone. An area of about 28 miles around the blast zone was as flat and the desert floor and most comms in that area were gone, only satellites were able to peer into the horror. It was assumed that 90% of the population or greater were vaporized in the blast. Luckily the blast was an air-bust so fallout was rather low. At that the size of the bomb was not exactly known. At least greater then 50 megatons. As for a delivery system it was not an ICBM. It was at the time believed to have been a sucide aircraft. As Kip was finishing his report a red phone in the corner of the room rang. Secretary of Defense Frank Liteve Goth quickly swooped it up.
“Yes?” He crisply inquired. “What? Ok.”
Goth moved to one of the flatscreen TV on the wall showing new imagery, “Mr. President, gentlemen, I think you need to see this.” The image then became that of the Armed Republic News Network. The anchor was a young man talking with fear and animosity as his face showed signs of anger.
“If you are just joining us we have received a video tape from those claiming responsibility for the attack on our great nation.”
The shot then went to a crystal clear video with five men in all red with golden hoods standing in front of a Flightopian and Soviet flag.
The man in the center began to speak with a thunderous voce with a thick Russian accent, “My brothers, sadly I have to speak to you in the diluted pig language that has now become dominate our once great nation. You are all well aware of what we have done. But, we did it as patriots and comrades. We were once noble and proud servants of Soviet Russia. Now we have become capitalist pigs that rape and pillage the poor. No more. We have come to reunite ourselves with the glorious motherland and be proud communists once more! You have seen our awesome might. We shall wield it once more if the government does not disband and form and new government. We shall have a Duma and a new glorious Russian president. We are the New Dawn! Our time has come." The image then went to black.
The president in a fit of rage slammed his fist upon the table denting it and cutting his hand. Unaware of the pain he only uttered one sentence, “You find them Frank, and you slaughter them.”
The video had no doubt reached other nations Goth thought. Now they would see whom their true friends really were.
2157 Hours Flightopian Standard Time (FST)
Captain Bob Jaland was ready to land his 777. This flight had sucked. They were two hours late departing San Shawne due to the last minting loading of some unmarked container. But, it had documentation so it went on. The lights of Kimbu where gorgeous tonight though. He could see the section where his family’s apartment was. If the traffic didn’t come to a halt out of the airport he could get home in time to catch the late night shows with his wife and tuck his kids in. The massive city, the third largest in Flightopia, with a population of about 45 million was an oasis in this harsh dessert.
“Landing checklist please Jim,” Bob quipped to his first officer, Vasili Newcastle.
“Here you are.”
The items were read and completed just as the aircraft turned into the visual approach pattern at an altitude of 6,000 ft. Bob looked down and admired the softy lit pinnacle that was the city’s city hall. He looked at the clock, it read 2159, and he felt glad that the checklist had gone so fast, then there was a brillient flash. His world and that of 45 million people then became absolute nothingness.
On the Flightopian Airborne Crisis Command Center (FACCC)
8 Hours Later...
The past seven or so hours had been a modern-day nightmare for the Flightopian president, Hunter Alldredge. He was In the Presidential Apartment when there was a bright flash off to the west. It took a few minutes for him and the Presidential Guard to realize it was a nuclear blast. In no time he was rushed to a waiting chopper. 25 minutes later, after a flight over the now anarchic cipital city he was aboard the FACCC, a modidifed Airbus A380, along with the vice-president and 12 of his 15 cabinet members. He was currently in the joint conference room where the chairman of the FEDARA (Federal Emergency, Disaster, or Attack Response Administration), Kip Latem was giving a current sitrep. The numbers were not good. The city of Kimbu was gone. An area of about 28 miles around the blast zone was as flat and the desert floor and most comms in that area were gone, only satellites were able to peer into the horror. It was assumed that 90% of the population or greater were vaporized in the blast. Luckily the blast was an air-bust so fallout was rather low. At that the size of the bomb was not exactly known. At least greater then 50 megatons. As for a delivery system it was not an ICBM. It was at the time believed to have been a sucide aircraft. As Kip was finishing his report a red phone in the corner of the room rang. Secretary of Defense Frank Liteve Goth quickly swooped it up.
“Yes?” He crisply inquired. “What? Ok.”
Goth moved to one of the flatscreen TV on the wall showing new imagery, “Mr. President, gentlemen, I think you need to see this.” The image then became that of the Armed Republic News Network. The anchor was a young man talking with fear and animosity as his face showed signs of anger.
“If you are just joining us we have received a video tape from those claiming responsibility for the attack on our great nation.”
The shot then went to a crystal clear video with five men in all red with golden hoods standing in front of a Flightopian and Soviet flag.
The man in the center began to speak with a thunderous voce with a thick Russian accent, “My brothers, sadly I have to speak to you in the diluted pig language that has now become dominate our once great nation. You are all well aware of what we have done. But, we did it as patriots and comrades. We were once noble and proud servants of Soviet Russia. Now we have become capitalist pigs that rape and pillage the poor. No more. We have come to reunite ourselves with the glorious motherland and be proud communists once more! You have seen our awesome might. We shall wield it once more if the government does not disband and form and new government. We shall have a Duma and a new glorious Russian president. We are the New Dawn! Our time has come." The image then went to black.
The president in a fit of rage slammed his fist upon the table denting it and cutting his hand. Unaware of the pain he only uttered one sentence, “You find them Frank, and you slaughter them.”
The video had no doubt reached other nations Goth thought. Now they would see whom their true friends really were.