NationStates Jolt Archive

(If interested, see the OOC thread here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=480827).)

On the tarmac, Capital North R.A.B.
12 miles north of Duntovostok, captial of ChevyRocks
1100 hours

"So was he right, or what?!?!" Captain Daniel Steele asked the Vice President, Joseph Derekson.
"Yeah, I'd say so!!!" replied Derekson.

The Chevrokian President, Ragnar Johanson, had always told Joe about how loud the early Terminator bombers in Republic Air Force service were. Even with the thick headsets and sound deadening sheets on the inside of the fuselage, there was no mistaking the ear-shattering roar of the six conta-rotating turboprops and the scream of the four turbofans. To be fair, the plane was a pretty old design, but the CCRAF still used them for massive low-altitude strikes. Some people had even nicknamed them the "Peacemaker," back from the days when they were the prime strategic nuclear bomber of the Air Force. They'd make peace all right, the peace of a graveyard.

The V.P. was onboard today for a public-relations tour. A tour, because the Johanson administration wanted people to know there was a reason for still having strategic bombers. Especially because of the isolationist movement. There were people were angry at the government's involvement in foreign issues, namely the Beltway-Gilabad War. Kept thinking it would only hurt the country and cause the deaths of innocent people. There was even talk of them forming a political party, and running for the presidency. They were, of course, allowed to do so under the laws of the country. But there were other problems, more radical groups forming as well; violent isolationists. Inciting riots in Minneapolis, Walker, and even in the capital, Duntovostok.

Think about that later, the V.P. thought. Gotta look good for the press too. Rare as it was, there were a few members of various national news agencies onboard for today's flight. The flight itself would take off at Dunstovostok, fly south-west to CARA's Minot Testing Range for some practice bomb runs, then coming back to Duntovostok.

"Everybody better have their hearing protection on!!" Captain Steele yelled to the crew and passengers. The mammoth bomber had taxied out to the runway, and was ready for take off. Steele cycled up the ten engines, creating a sound the President described as "a Top Fuel dragster crashing into a turbine-powered thresher." Even though the brakes were applied, the bomber named Straight Flush was sliding forward, the huge power overcoming the locked brakes and dragging the tires. Steele released the brakes, and the huge plane accelerated down the runway and started its takeoff roll.

National Aviation Authority
Regional Command Center, District Four, based in Jamestown
1140 hours

"Terminator Three-Six-Five, prepare for course change, come right to course two-seven-zero."
"Roger, District Four, changing to course two-seven-zero," Captain Steele replied.
"Alright Three-Six-Five, after course change, decrease altitude to one-zero thousand feet, maintain speed."

Reed Sorensen was guiding in the bomber until they reached the military's jurisdiction at the Minot Testing Range.

"Roger, Four, decreasing altitude to one-zero thousand."
"Alright, Three-Six-Five, prepare to switch over to Minot command."

Silence.

"Three-Six-Five, do you copy?"

The big display still showed the dot where the bomber was. Then a few seconds later, it disappeared.

"Three-Six-Five, do you copy?"

Again, silence.

"Mr. Wagner, we've got a problem here, sir."
"What is it, son?"
"Sir, we've lost all contact with Terminator Three-Six-Five. No radio communication, no tracking. Nothing."
"Where was their last position?"
"Ahh.....fifty miles, due east of the Minot Testing Range. About twenty-five miles north of the M-25, sir."
"Try contacting them, once more."
"Yes, sir. Terminator Three-Six-Five, are you there? Do you copy?"

Silence.

"I can't raise them sir."
"Shit." Wagner paced about. "Call up the Republic Air Force, tell them the situation."



On the tarmac, Jamestown Air Field
Home base, 343rd Fighter Interceptor Squadron
1150 hrs

"All Jamestown traffic, hold positions. All inbound traffic, remain in the flight pattern. All aircraft taxiing, stop and hold your positions."

The message was plain and clear. It was needed too, two of the Air Force's F-50B Spectre fighters were taxiing fast out to the runway, and there was no time for any civil aircraft to get in the way.

"Jamestown tower, Spectre One taking off."
"Jamestown tower, Spectre Two taking off."

No delays, no asking for takeoff permission. Something was up, and it overruled any civil air control regulations. The two big delta-winged fighters had their throttles firewalled, with afterburners on full, racing down the runway with a sense of urgency not usually seen. Then they leaped into the sky as if gravity were merely optional, banking toward the north-west.

Alongside the Old Minot Highway
10 miles south of Terminator 36-5's last known position
1200 hrs

Leepak Tupo was a happy man, so to say. As the leader of the National Focus Organization, and he wanted the government to stay out of foreign affairs. He had gotten absolutely furious when the Johanson administration sent Navy forces to the Gilabad area and engaged in combat.

"We did it, Sonny. Now they'll know the consequences when they get full of other nations problems."

He stopped the truck, an M1253 air-defense truck. Stolen. It had a rack of five MIM-120 SLAMRAAM surface-to-air missiles on the back...and one was missing.

He looked to the north, and he could easily see the huge, thick cloud of black smoke rising from the countryside. He got out, and walked to his black Mercedes sedan, which was parked at that very spot, as he had planned out.

"Come Sonny, get in my car. We will drive to the coast, and board the Hudsonliners. They're cruise ships, sailing out tonight. We're registered as attending an NFO organizational rally in Frobisher Bay tomorrow. Our whole organization is going. We'll wait until we're in international waters, then we'll eliminate the passengers and crew that are against our cause."
"No way, Lee. No way, I'm not gonna be a part of this any more. You said we were gonna do this peacefully."
"Well they don't understand peace, they only understand force. We have to make them understand."
"You never said we were gonna steal a SAM truck and shoot down the Vice President's plane!!!! Even if we got away to the ships, do you think they won't be looking for us?!?!"
"Hah, the military will never find us! Even with all their technology, they'll never pick us up. Besides, they don't know we've done anything, they have nothing on us."
"Are you crazy?! You've lost it. I'm not being a part of this anymore. I'm turning myself in, and I'm gonna tell them what you've done. It's what's right."
"Now Sonny, I can't have you doing that. You know too much."
"You've taken this too far!!"

Leepak pulled a .357 Magnum out of his coat, and put a single shot in Sonny's head. There was nobody to see anything. Even by this road, there was very little traffic.

Still, can't take any chances. Leepak dragged Sonny's body into the truck, and drove off the road to a nearby drainage canal. Just his luck, too, it had rained recently, and there was lots of water flowing through it. Just before it went over the edge, be bailed out of the truck. As he got up, he watched the truck sink fast, very fast, to the bottom.

He walked back to the road, climbed into his car, and drove away.

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Georgetown, capital of The Beltway
1205 hrs

"What a relief," President Ragnar Johanson was thinking. Indeed, a relief. They had been debating for some time what to do now that the Beltway-Gilabad War was over. The Gilabad represenative would not change his stance, then himself and the reps from The Beltway and Axinon had put forth proposals to prevent such things again. They finally reached an agreement, and now it was time for lunch. A nice, juicy steak, with a baked potato on the side.

One of the President's aides raced into the conference room and up to Johanson.

"M-M-Mr. President, there's a call for you."
"Who is it?"
"Defense Secretary Borgesov, it's urgent, sir."
"Very well." He stood up, and spoke "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I have some business to attend to."

He walked out to the room where the Chevrokian delegation had set up, and picked up the phone.

"What is it Erik?"
"Sir, it's the Vice President. His plane crashed today while they were on approach to Minot!"
"Crashed, in the country?"
"Yes sir. We don't know why, but we don't think anybody survived."
"Mother of god..." Johanson had to sit down.
"Sir, what should we do?"
"Find out what happened, and brief the nation."
"Yes, sir."



Press Room, The President's Palace
Duntovostok, capital of ChevyRocks
1300 hrs

"Good afternoon," the Press Secretary started. "Earlier today, Vice President Joseph Derekson was on a flight onboard a Terminator I bomber, to be conducting combat testing at Minot. I regret to inform, that the plane crashed just east of Minot, around an hour and twenty minutes ago. Little is known yet, but we do not believe there were any survivors. Also aboard were five servicemen of the Republic Air Force, as well as four members of the Associated Press. Their names are being withheld at the moment, pending notification of their families. At the present time, we have no leads, and are investigating why this terrible accident has occured. But life will go on as normal, business will continue to be conducted, and people should continue on with their lives. Thank you, that is all for now."

(OOC: At the time, nobody knows the plane was shot down except for the man who did it, and it will be many hours before the stolen-and-abandonded SAM truck is found, along with Sonny's body. Even more time until the black box of the bomber is recovered and analyzed.)

Along the drainage canal
10 miles south of Terminator 36-5's last known position
1600 hrs

12 year old Jake Reily was riding his new bike along the canal. He thought he had the coolest bike around; flame decals, chromed pegs, front and rear brakes. He was riding with his big brother Matt, who was 14 years old, because Jake wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone.

Suddenly, Jake gripped both brake handles and stopped.

"What is it, Jake?"
"There's a truck in the canal! Do you see it?!"
"Yeah, I see it! It looks like a military truck too."
"Look, Matt, there's somebody still inside!"
"Oh man, we better go het help!!"

They rode home fast. Bursting through the front door, Jake started yelling...

"Mom, Dad!! There's an army truck stuck in the canal. Somebody might be hurt!!"



Back at the canal
1700 hrs

Two recovery trucks and four cables later, the truck was finally pulled out of the canal. There were emergency vehicles all around; ambulances, town police, county police, state police...and military police.

Accident investigators and other police were looking around the truck.

"Well, he certainly didn't die because of the crash. I'd say he was shot in the head. Consistent with a very close range, probably point-blank shot."
"Can we identify him?"
"We'll have to go by dental records, it would be pretty hard otherwise, he's missing most of his face. Plus, he's got no ID or papers on him."

Several military officials approached, and pushed through to the truck.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?"
"This is government property, military. Your jurisdiction ends here."
"Well, at least let us stay around for a bit, we've got a civilian death here, so I think we'll have to work together."
"Very well."

One soldier opened a water-tight compartment, and plugged in a laptop computer. He quickly downloaded the information stored, and left.

"There's a problem here," the commanding military officer said. "This M1253 is missing one of it's missiles." He stopped for a moment, as if he were processing something in his mind quite important, then he thought out loud, "Oh, god damnit..."

Onboard S.S. Hudsonliner I, Ballroom
1800 hrs

"My fellow NFO members, we are beginning a journey." Leepak Tupo was addressing his clan. "A journey towards peace, and towards prosperity. My friends, the government gets involved in idiotic issues, problems occuring in other nations. Foreign wars. They send your sons and daughters off to other countries to die in battle, and do we benefit? No!! They're wasting our tax dollars and our children's lives!"

"Yeah!!!" The crowd cheered, as if they could do nothing else.

"But we will change that!! Perhaps not today, or tomorrow. But it will come. A day when we don't think about national defense, or the issues going on over the ocean, in other countries. A day when we only think about our nation, our people, and our lives!!"

"Yeah!!!"

"We can make a difference, and with you behind me, there will be changes in our great nation!! Allamahz!!!"

The last word was a cue. Leepak's audience was now completely under his control. Their conscious mind was overruled by the subconscious. This had been part of their initiation, they didn't know it, but they were leaving the room like an army in formation. They started walking up and down the decks of the ship, and on the decks of the other four Hudsonliners (they were watching Leepak's speech on video). They overwhelmed the crew members, and stormed into the bridge.

"I'm sorry gentlemen," Leepak told the captain and his mates, "but I'm taking control of this vessel."

Press Room, The President's Palace
Duntovostok, capital of ChevyRocks
1830 hrs

The Press Secretary's familiar face appeared again, and it wasn't at all cheerful. The press meeting, however, was changed. Something very important had occured, and this was being broadcast to anybody who could recieve it.

"Good evening. As many of you may know, just before noon today, the plane carrying Vice President Joseph Derekson crashed while on approach to Minot, with no survivors. While investigating the crash, we came across new leads and evidence, and we now have reason to believe that the Vice President's plane was shot down within the country, by some kind of terrorist group. Whether it is for political reasons, or otherwise, we are currently investigating. If there are any nations out there that would like to help us, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you."

George Clon sat at his desk, typing on his computer. A short time later, a highly encrypted message, of the type that made Enigma look like Pig Latin, was sent. It read as follows.

"Greetings, anarchists. It has come to my attention that you are moving against your government. Naturally, this will require that you have weaponry. We are willing to sell you these weapons. Simply inform us of what you need, and we will provide it to you for a reasonable price."