NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: the facts: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=10908142#post10908142 )

A dust cloud was blowing down the quiet narrow boulevard that ran parallel to the busy main street in the Garouvian capital city of Garubakh. The thick, dry mud caught in the crevices around doors, and covered the windows of parked cars. It swirled and spiraled and danced about, unceasing as the cool wind propelled it. It caked the clothes of children and the odd adult who strolled under the late afternoon sun, and covered the desk of an old scholar who had left his second story window open. It invaded like a conquering army, without care or politesse, simply doing as the wind’s mighty yet gentle hand commanded.

On the roof of a four story apartment building, dating from the early 60s, and never having been truly and fully occupied, a young man watched the spectacle of dust as it came towards him. He held his breath as it swept below, some making its way up to twirl about him, flitting in and out of his nostrils and dirtying a pair of dark sunglasses. As it passed, he removed the glasses and wiped them on an old, though well-kept pair of slacks, before placing them in his jacket pocket. He turned and made his way back to the stairwell under the calm of the cool and quiet sky.

He descended into the dark humidity of the edifice, making his way to the second floor, and coming out into a hallway that had seen better days, but which still managed to show a bit of charm and pride in its decadent decay. He walked towards the sole open door, and stepped into his apartment. A young woman bent over a sink, scrubbing dust out of a glass. She glanced back at him as he entered.

“This dust is absurd. I’ve washed this same glass three times.”

The man walked over towards a couch and sat down.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.”

The woman rolled her eyes.

“They’ve been saying that for the past two weeks.”

“Maybe they’ll be right this time.”

She scowled and muttered.

“We’ve been saying that for the past two years..”

The man smiled and got to his feet, walking over to the sink to put his arms around the woman.

“Now, now. They’re trying.”

“Fuck it. I’m tired of hearing about how they’re trying. It’s been months and the old men are still sitting around arguing format instead of getting the power on and the water flowing and an election held.”

He kissed her on the cheek.

“That’s not true. My boss, secretary Kiskof told me today that Aljiev himself signed off on a bill of a dozen articles for the new government. Things will be up and running in no time.”

Shouts echoed in the street, overlaid against the groaning roar of a motor. The man peered through the window in front of the sink as a heavy truck rumbled down the street, kicking up a monstrous cloud of dust. A handful of soldiers jogged behind the truck as others watched, laughing, chatting, joking in the back under the green canvas roof. The truck passed and the noise faded, leaving the cloud of dust to cake the kitchen window near completely. The woman cursed quietly to herself and went back to her scrubbing. The man kissed her again on the cheek and walked back over to the kitchen table.

“They want me back in ten minutes, so I’m going to head out.”

The woman did not break from her scrubbing.

“What time will you be home?”

“Early. Just have to put the finishing touches on a few of Kiskof’s letters.”

He reached down to grab a briefcase from the table. Beside it lay a copy of the bible, a small crucifix laid with care on top. He paid little attention. His wife was a Christian. He was not.

He picked up the briefcase and turned towards the door. The woman broke from her scrubbing and sauntered over to him, putting her arms around him with a wide smile. He kissed her.

“Come home soon.”

He smiled and walked out of the door, closing it carefully behind him.

He walked down the stairs to the lobby, past the lethargic security guard at the front desk. A television was replaying the broadcast from a local station, one of few that were up and running.

“Interim leader Robert Aljiev issued his long awaited statement today requesting international aid. Reactions were split, as protests continue in Garubakh..”

The man nodded to the security guard, who replied dazedly.

“Afternoon, Ilham.”

“Afternoon.”

The television trailed off as the man stepped out into the street. He rounded the corner of the block, and began the four blocks walk to the main street that divided the capital in half, running from the old national assembly building to the ancient palace of the Garouvian kings. A few people were out here and there, strolling, shopping, heading to and from work. A pair of men in filthy, dark blue police uniforms leaned against a Toyota pickup truck, submachine guns slung across their chests, lightly fingering the triggers as they chatted and watched the easy street.

A man stood hailing a cab, one of which passed by at full tilt without braking, spraying dust in his now-perturbed face. The man kept walking, passing a row of shops, until he reached the junction at main street. It was a different world entirely. Traffic flowed between police cordons and military blockades as men and women rushed haphazardly in every direction. He took a minute to lean against a wall, fishing around in his pocket for a cigarette. Finding one, he placed it between his lips and struck an match against the back of the book, touching it to the tip and breathing deeply. He exhaled, letting a ring of smoke wreath his forehead in the afternoon heat as he replaced the book of matches. The same cab from before had halted in front of a police blockade, and the driver was arguing frantically with one of the officers. He had a strange accent. Something from the east of the nation, but the man could not place it.

The man was becoming agitated, and the officer was now shouting as well, gesturing for him to turn around, apparently. The driver scowled and suddenly the officer’s eyes seemed to widen. He reached for his weapon, and the two behind him did likewise, but a pistol appeared from the driver’s window, and the officer’s chest exploded with three puffs of red mist. He fell backwards, rigid, as the cabs back doors opened. Two men wielding assault rifles fired on the officers as a hail of bullets ripped through the windshield, killing the driver. One of the officer’s fell as the other dived behind a concrete barricade.

Ilham had hit the pavement, and scrambled towards the door to a café. He pulled it open, turning just in time to see a small round mass rolling under the car. He dived inside as an explosion ripped behind him. He covered his ears, recovering a few seconds later to look through the window. The car was on fire, a few officers poking around the wreckage. Two bodies lay on either side.

He got to his feet. A café patron walked up beside him.

“Who were those guys?”

Ilham shook his head dazedly.

“No idea.”

“Hard to tell anymore, isn’t it? Probably the muslims again.”

Ilham glanced over at the man, who continued watching the burning vehicle. Dusting himself off, Ilham stepped out the door, and continued cautiously down the street, past the scene where officers were forcing back a gathering crowd of spectators. At the end of the street, the national assembly building glinted a perfect tan. It was a short walk, five minutes or so.

He reached the wrought iron gates and stood at the end of a short line. He was diverted to a second, which moved more quickly. A pair of soldiers wearing the badge of the new constitutional committee asked him to empty his pockets, which he did. He showed them his identification card, displaying his status as an employee, and stepped through the metal detector. Replacing his wallet and other belongings he made his way up the steps, still a bit stupefied by the events of five-minutes ago, but not altogether dazed. One would think it would be easier to adjust with the frequency, but it still left everyone a little shocked when something like that happened, especially with all the security in the city these days.

He stepped into the high-ceilinged main hall, through another set of metal detectors.

“Ilham!”

He turned to see his boss Abraham Kiskof walking quickly across the floor towards him. He extended a hand as he reached him, and Ilham shook it.

“Thanks for coming. This won’t take long, I promise. It’s Friday. Everyone just wants to go home after this week.”

“It’s no problem, so long as you’re still paying me.”

Kiskof chuckled.

“Depends on how much money they’re putting back in my budget. Aljiev’s a good man, but sometimes he’s a hell of a cheapskate.”

Ilham smiled.

“Let’s get to it.”

The two marched towards the large marble staircase that looked like it belonged more in an opera house than a government building.

“Everyone’s real stirred up about Aljiev’s request.”

“For foreign aid?”

“Yeah. Some of them are afraid to show weakness. A lot just don’t want anyone meddling, not now. But with everything that’s going on, I don’t think a little extra security would be such a bad idea.”

Ilham nodded.

“You’re telling me. You heard the commotion?”

Kiskof looked over, his expression perplexed.

“Commotion?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hear the shooting. Some guys attacked the checkpoint at the end of the street.”

“Damnit. I guess I just don’t pay that much attention these days. You were there?”

“Yeah, about 20 yards away.”

“Christ. You’re not hurt are you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Alright. I’ll make sure they put a few more cops on detail around here.”

Ilham nodded. The two walked down a side hall to a guarded door. The soldier saluted and the two passed into a spacious office. A pair of individuals sat typing on computers. Ilham and Kiskof walked through a door at the back into a smaller, more private office space. The secretary of security for the constitutional Committee walked over to the open window and leaned out, inhaling deeply as his secretary, Ilham, took a seat at his own desk, bringing up a pair of documents, Kiskof’s dispatches. The Secretary spoke.

“They’re so close, Ilham. So goddamn close, but they just can’t agree on anything. If they’d knock off the squabbling, we could have a government by next Friday.”

He turned from the window, and leaned against the sill, his large form blocked a great deal of the window light.

“I’m worried about it. Every day they blow something up, no matter how many cops I put on detail or how many troops I throw at them. If they break the cordon, the whole committee’s going to be thrown into a shambles, and then the whole country is screwed. Honest to God, I hope Aljiev’s right. I hope he knows what he’s doing, because a lot of people don’t think he is or does, and if the people lose faith in the constitution before it’s even written, well then, we’re up shit creek, and it’s our own damn fault for burning our paddles.”

Ilham was silent. Kiskof sighed and walked over to take a seat in a leather armchair under an old photograph of President Margaryan and Robert Aljiev, back from the days before the war. A much younger, thinner Kiskof was visible in the background, behind Aljiev’s chair, dressed in a neat, clean green military uniform, the flag of Garouvia embroidered on the front of his cap and on his shirtsleeve.

-------------

Channel 2 Local News, Garubakh

“The President’s request for international aid to quell the developing security crisis throughout the nation has met with both high praise and stark opposition from members of the Constitutional Committee. Arguments on this issue from both sides drowned out anything pertinent to the constitution itself in the national assembly today as deliberations continued throughout the day and night, the committee members not dispersing until well past midnight.

Interim Leader Rober Aljiev listened carefully to both sides, before making a final defense of his proposal, which was made unilaterally without a vote of council, something that unnerved many who feel that in the past weeks the interim leader has overstepped his bounds in the interest of preventing disruptive attacks in the capital and throughout the nation. Aljiev, however, consistently claims that his measures are solely in the interest of ensuring a constitution can be finished and ratified within a five-month deadline period he himself set last month.

In related news, the violent skirmishes that began last Wednesday between rebellious elements of the Center For Islamic Unity Party and the Christian Democratic Liberation Alliance continued in the eastern province of Syuinrik, culminating in the seizure of a local mosque in the town of Baku by CDLA by factionalist militia elements. National police and military units have tried unsuccessfully since the start of the skirmishing to quell the violence in this region, which holds a reputation for lawlessness and ethno-religious tension. Interim Governor General Ahmed Mejlis has protested for some time the slow response of the Constitutional Committee to provide adequate manpower and equipment to perform the daunting task of stabilization, and has even hinted at the possibility of taking matters fully into his own hands, something that would constitute an act of succession and high treason against the Committee, which holds the place of the central government.”

-------------



[I]Members of the International Community,

As you may or may not have been made aware, the nation of Garouvia has in the past months, following the declaration of ceasefire that ended a 6 year civil war, undertaken the daunting task of forming a democratic government and writing and ratifying a legal constitution. While we feel that our intellects and will are more than strong and capable enough to undertake the task, destabilizing forces composed of rogue elements of the previous warring factions have taken it upon themselves to see that we are unsuccessful.

In the past months I have used all of my available resources to quell the violence and stabilize the region to allow for us to more easily and quickly complete our constitution and form our government, however, the violence has continued, and a greater public outcry is reaching the ears of the Constitutional Committee in charge of both interim management of the nation of Garouvia and the completion of the constitution.

It is therefore that I appeal to the nations of the world who would have a free and democratic Garouvia to lend us support in whatever way possible, be it through the deployment of security elements, foreign financial aid, or simply knowledgeable consultation. The decision to appeal to you will no doubt find dissent amid some members of the committee, as I have taken it upon myself to issue the appeal without a vote, however I believe that the benefits of foreign aid will manifest themselves in the future if the call if answered.

I thank you most humbly,
Garouvian Interim Leader Robert Aljiev

(OOC: I'm sort of looking to enter with a bang, through an interesting RP. I'm looking for any form of aid anyone is willing to send. Peacekeeping details, foreign journalists, diplomats, consultants, even black market arms dealers and military consultants would be interesting to have.

I've spent most of my time developing the Constitutional Committee, so leaving the development of the other factions up in the air. If you have ideas, run with them. Support who you want, start a revolution, aid the rebirth of democracy. It's all good. The outcome really depends on the RP. Have fun. I hope this turns out alright. If you have questions, feel free to post out of character in this thread.)

We are willing to send 10,000 peacekeepers, as well as to sell tear gas, truncheons, riot hoses and other non-lethal munitions.

---Empress Chandra

We are willing to send 10,000 peacekeepers, as well as to sell tear gas, truncheons, riot hoses and other non-lethal munitions.

---Empress Chandra

[Response From the Provisional Foreign Ministry, Garubakh, Garuvia]

Interim Leader Aljiev thanks you for your offers, and is quite willing to accept both. Deployment of peacekeepers flying the Aesonian flag is a welcome event, and Provisional Defense Minister General Hussein Garuvanski has authorized their activation in the eastern provinces of Syuinrik, Aramvir, and Kotiayk. With regard to the purchase of non-lethal weaponry, the provisional defense authority has decided to inquire about the going price of tear gas grenades.

Again, you have our thanks.

OOC: For the price, since I really have no idea, I took the price per gram, figured about fifty grams per grenade, and slapped on twenty bucks for the delivery system.

IC: The current price of tear gas grenades set by Aesonic Arms is $105 dollars per grenade. Peacekeepers are currently headed towards your country via jet.
***
Marcus finished cleaning his gun, and set it across his lap. He leaned back in his seat. Very nice. This had been a civilian jet once, before becoming an army transport claim, and, through the various favors owed to him, Marcus had netted his squad first class seats. Outside, Marcus could see the city.

"Looks, dusty," commented the man sitting next to him. "Glad we got these battlesuits." The battlesuits, the design purchased from Pythogria, covered up the entire body, leaving none of it exposed to the dust storms that would be brewing down there. Even more importantly, they were pretty good at stopping bullets.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, and Enlisted Soldiers," spoke the pilot over the intercom, "I'm going to have to ask you to fasten your seatbelts. We're beginning our descent." He then spoke into his intercom, "This is Flight 223, requesting permission to land."

OOC: Sounds fine enough.

IC:

[Response, Provisional Defense Ministry, Garubakh, Garuvia]

The price sounds reasonable enough. By the authority of the Constitutional Committee, we will purchase a total of 10,000 units for 1.05 million United States dollars. The funds in question will be transferred to the appropriate accounts immediately.

----

Thomas Idrim scowled as he heard the transmission.

"There's the first of them. Foreign rats. Think we can't solve our own problems. It's that damn Aljiev's fault."

"Oh will you shut the fuck up? They're hear to help. God knows you're not doing anything to set things right. Sitting on your ass in an air-traffic controller's tower."

Idrim spit on the floor and spoke into the microphone.

"flight 223, you have permission to land. Proceed to runway 3. It's all clear."

On the edge of the runway a caravan of trucks and civilian cars, mostly imported sedans, waited, policemen, enlisted soldiers, military officers, and diplomatic attaches standing around awaiting the arrival of the first wave of the foreign deployment.

A tall, thin man in a green officer's uniform and a pair of RayBan sunglasses checked his watch.

"They're just beginning their descent sir," spoke a soldier standing at his right. The officer nodded.

Your money has been recieved. Expect arrival of the shipments within a few weeks.
***
The plane taxied to a halt. As soon as it stopped moving, three doors on each side opened up, and rope ladders were dropped down. The troops began moving out efficently. The first man down the ladder, Gladius, the highest ranking officer in the Aesonic forces, strode forwards, looking about for someone here to meet them.

OOC: Got to go now.

The enlisted men composing the Garouvian military reception snapped to attention, and offered salutes as the thin officer strode forward to meet the first of the foreign peacekeepers. He saluted quickly and extended a hand. His tone was cool, but receptive.

"I'm Colonel Aram Markhasyan, here on behalf of General Hussein Garuvanski. The Garouvian Provisional Authority welcomes you on his behalf and that of Robert Aljiev."

“Down!”

The rush of air came on, screaming like an old demon, delicately carrying the shell as if it were an egg. It collided with the earth and detonated, forcing a cascade of pebbles and displaced mud, which fell heavily on the back of the young man’s head, the bodies of his compatriots, and the windshield of the car.

He peeked out from behind his hands, and got to his knees.

“Anyone hit?”

He heard a groan and turned to see another man struggling into a sitting position, his back against the door of the dust covered vehicle. He turned again and saw two more men lying prone, checking themselves for injuries. The emblem of the Syuinrik provincial police force was almost completely obscured by the dust which turned their navy blue jackets a dark, dark brown.

Inhaling heavily he scanned the ground, locating his weapon, a 9mm pistol, and picking it up. He replaced it in the holster at his hip. In the distance he heard a dull thump.

“Shit, more mortars. Scatter!”

The men broke in all directions. He dived into an alley behind him on the narrow, dusty street in the middle of this narrow, dusty town. The explosion hit behind him, one street over. Heaving a sigh of relief, he emerged from his hiding place and quickly made his way back to the car, a makeshift police vehicle, the logos hastily painted on the side.

“Come on!”

The other three men trotted back over as he opened the trunk, revealing a gunrack loaded with five riot shotguns. He took the first and stepped back.

“Sergeant, what’s our plan?”

“Stop those mortars, what else?”

He loaded a few shells into the weapon and started towards an alley that cut through to the next street. The others looked apprehensively as they took their weapons, then took off after the sergeant, loading their weapons as they went.

He kept his head down, moving quickly without running. He reached the end of the alley and peered through. The street was empty, police barricades at either side, a burning car in the center.

“Sarge, are you sure this is such a good idea? Shouldn’t we call for backup?”

“We are the backup, Samvel. There’s no officer’s for a dozen blocks. By the time they got here, the place’d be shelled to bits.”

The subordinate swallowed hard, gripping his shotgun more tightly.

The sergeant broke suddenly for the other side of the street. The others, caught off guard, sprinted after him. The dull thud sounded in the distance, and just as they reached the other side, a shell slammed into the mouth of the alley they had just broken from.

The sergeant took a moment to recuperate, pressing his back against the wall of townhouse.

“There’s a spotter on the roof of a house one street over. Someone’ll have to distract him so I can go around and get a good shot. Volunteers?”

The men looked at each other.

“Sam, go around to the next street.”

“Me? Sarge, wh-“

“Go.”

He swallowed heavily once more and broke towards the end of the block, rounding the corner.

“You two stay here.”

The thud sounded again as the sergeant broke the opposite direction. He turned the corner and scanned the rooftops. Sure enough, on the flat roof of a townhome he caught a glimpse of the top of a man’s head. Staying out of view, he calculated the range. It was a narrow street, and the house was only about 5 or 6 yards from him. An explosion at the other end of the street shattered his thinking. He heard a shout and looked to see the younger officer breaking for the other end of the street, terrified. He nearly chuckled.

He took aim at the top of the roof with the shotgun, fingering the trigger as he searched for his target, but at the last minute thought better of it. Looking behind him, his face twisted into contemplation. Samvel was pressed against the wall of a house two down from the wall in question, looking frantically about. Spying the sergeant, he led a plea with his eyes.

The sergeant motioned towards the house. Samvel’s eyes widened. Rolling his, the sergeant recklessly broke from cover, charging for the door of the home. Samvel reluctantly followed.

With action-movie bravado, he smashed his foot against the door, and it gave way. An utterly shocked man scrambled up from where he had been sitting on a living room couch. The sergeant watched his hand flitting for a pistol on the coffee table. He raised his shotgun and fired, blowing him, and the couch over backwards. Samvel charged through the door at this moment, and instantly took a step back. The sergeant looked back at him.

“What are you waiting for? Come on.”

They rushed the stairs, spiraling up towards the third floor. They came out and saw an open window leading to a balcony from which the roof could be accessed. The sergeant moved towards it, and peeked his head out, looking up. Nothing.

He climbed out onto the balcony, and, dropping the shotgun, grasped the top of the roof, pulling himself up. The spotter was distracted, scanning the streets. As he began to pull his legs up over the edge, however, he turned, his eyes surprised. He was a middle-aged man, his hair black but graying, his mouth covered by a bandanna to keep the dust out. He dived for a rifle a few feet away. The sergeant, summoning all of his strength, swung himself over the ledge, and rolled towards his adversary, grappling his arm as it reached the gun.

The man kicked him in the ribs, causing him to double over, and brought the rifle to his shoulder. However, his eyes looked up, and the muzzle moved towards the ledge. The sergeant turned his head just in time to see Samvel’s explode, his fingers fall limp, and the thud of his body on the balcony audible.

He whirled on the ground, and brought his fist into the groin of the man with the rifle. The gun fell from his hands as he doubled over, and the policeman leapt to his feet, grabbing his adversary about the throat and forcing him over to the ledge. Looking into the pain-filled eyes, he grimaced, and with a single sturdy motion, hurled him over the edge to the street below.

Name: Sergeant Ramiz Garubakhr

Age: 24

For exemplary courage in the face of danger, going above and beyond the call of duty, this man is hereby presented with the Margaryan National Medal of Merit for services rendered on the day of January 2nd, 2007...

Ramiz read the letter with a scowl before crumpling it up and tossing it into the trashcan at the edge of the desk he stood in front of. A large man seated at the desk in front of him, a police emblem visible on his blue cap, watched without expression.

"I probably would have done the same thing."

Ramiz turned his scowl on him. The big man sighed.

"The only reason you're not out on the street without a paycheck right now is because of that letter. You can kiss Mejlis's ass for that one."

"Fuck that. I know what happened, and I know I should be out on the street. If the bastard is going to try to keep me from getting fired by giving me an award, then I'm handing in my resignation."

"Ramiz, you little motherfucker. We're understaffed as it is. So you fucked up and your man got killed. It happens. If we lose any more officers, alot more people are going to get killed. Look on the bright side. Your boy's already dead. Don't condemn this whole fucking division because of your fucking conscience."

Ramiz's look would have withered the plants on the windowsill, had they not already been withered from lack of water. The large man went on.

"This city's a hellhole. We both know that. If we could, the whole precinct'd be back home in Garubakh with our families. However, we all also know that we're here on orders, and this job pays alot better than anything else we can get these days. Without us, this city would be in the hands of the Christians, or the Muslims, or the Anarchists, or the Communists, and a hell of a lot of innocent people would be dead. Better we take the hit, because you and I both know that no one in this building is innocent."

He was right. Every one of them was a veteran of the war, mostly UCAD recruits. The things Ramiz had seen before his 19th birthday would have withered an old man.

"Fine, but next time make sure there's some fucking backup. I'm tired of the dirty jobs, Kuzkov."

"We all are. Doesn't change the fact that there just aren't enough of us to spread 'em out. Just go home and get some rest. I'll call you in a few hours."

Tag for interest.

<Encrypted Transmission>

From: His Royal Highness King James XI
To: Garouvian Interim Leader, Robert Aljiev

Sir,

In response to your recent request for International aid to help contend witht eh problems imposed upon your recovering nation by seperatist and anti-democratic elements, I am prepared to offer a three-stage agreement, henceforth known as the Garouvian Democratic Aid Package, or Gee-dap, to assist your nation in its goals. Firstly, a sum of $5 billion US will be granted ot your nation as a gift, with no repayments necessary. Secondly, members of the SCD, or Serious Crimes Directorate, will be available to assist and train your own apparently fledgling police force in tracking down and prosecuting rebellious elements inside your own country.

Thirdly, I am prepared to authorise full conventionally armed elements of the McLeodian Armed Forces to assist my own SCD officers and your Police and Armed Forces in hunting down and destroying hostile threats and camps within your country. This will be a scalable force, initially consisting of elements of the 5th Logistical Support Army, and a small detachment from each of the main Special Forces groups under my command, along with reconnaisance support from the 95th Recon Squadron of the RAF.

If this plan is agreeable to you, the money can be transferred immediately, and the first human elements will arrive by the end of the week.

Regards,

HRH King James XI

IC:The Red Tide Goverment took its typical isolationist stance on the issues developing in Garouvia. The Tech-Com Corporation was busy looking into more interesting places. But there were those shadowy characters in organized crime for whom Civil War is a blessing. The Red Tide Mafia took sharp interest in the degrading security situation.

It was basic math... in the metaphorical sense. Civil War=need for arms and ammo, Need for arms and ammo=$$$ for those who dealt in such items. And the poor security made it even better... they could easily smuggle weapons in. The nation probably didnt even have much of a Navy to stop weapons from being smuggled in at discrete locations. Commercial sattelite photos of the Garouvia were purchased, they were looking for flat, ungaurded, uninhabited beaches along the Garouvia coast line. Once a suitable smuggling spot was found, possible clients would be located.

OOC: Who are the factions that would be interested in purchasing weapons from the Mafia?

The Red Tide Mafia sells Russian Equipment that, in Real Life, are modern but are outdated on NS. They also have acess to tons of Kraven Weaponry.

(OOC: I'm going to be heading out for the evening, so I'll issue my responses a bit later tonight.)

Errik stood at the roadblock, looking out over the street. Why there was a roadblock here didn't matter. He hadn't asked. He had his orders, and that was that.

Errik rubbed the dust off of his goggles. Goddamn country can't have seen rain for a couple of months, he thought, Wonder how they're coping for food.

Most of the rest of his squad was behind him, on the other side of the roadblock. Though most of them carried assault rifles like his, there were four men manning two machine guns, two each, and one man with an antitank weapon. Nothing was being left to chance here.

Which explained why it was only most of the rest of the squad behind him. Somewhere in the buildings on either side of him was the sharpshooter. Maybe he was on a roof, maybe looking out a window. No one knew for sure. That way the couldn't glance towards him and give away his position. The buildings were a much a haven for enemy snipers as they were for allies.

Errik wiped the dust off again, looking up the street and waiting for the attack, that, if the stories were true, was only a matter of time.

Bekhaeran institute and academy of teh Chimera trains up elite soldiers available for hire, otherwise knwon as mercenaries who swear two oaths, to never fight the Bekhaeran race or nation and to stay comitted to their job

we are willing to send 1000 of these mercs who range from scientist to soldier

any information please respond

ministry of defence, Bekhaera

colonel sand

OOC: You have potential Garouvia as one of the better role-players on NS, I can sense it due to the amount of effort you gave. IC post to come/may come later.

OOC: I'm impressed, anyways. And slightly ashamed of my inferior RPing. But I'm working on it!

Official Communiqué of the Van Luxemburgian Government

Democracy is, and always has been, an aimpoint of our government, and beloved nation. We therefore have been carefully watching the situation in the nation known as Garouvia, and have decided to send a small Compagnie of the Groothertogelijke Marechaussee, otherwise known as Military Police in other militaries around the world. They will be assisted by a small helicopter detachement from the Van Luxemburgian Army, aswell as a taskforce consisting of 50 Police Officers, leaving as volunteers to Garouvia. The taskforces will be sent together with their vehicles. We have took the freedom to include a small ORBAT.

Taskforce de la Securité Garouvienne

Groothertogelijke Marechaussee
(144 men)
144 SIG-Sauer P250 pistols
144 rubber truncheons
12 Benelli Nova shotguns
144 Pepperspray dispensers, including a 5 liter refilling tank
288 handcuffs
12 Eagle IV 4x4's (MP version, unarmed, model 2003, Olivegreen)
24 Mercedes-Benz 290GD (Model 1989, Olivegreen coloured, Armoured to B7)
5 Renault Kerax (Olivegreen, armoured, model 2005)

Helicopter Detachement
5 NH-90 helicopters, Olive Green coloured (Model 2006)
2 EC135 helicopters, Black (Model 2002)
6 Eurocopter Ecureuil AS350, Police colours (Model 1997)

Police
38 Police Officers
12 TCT Counter-Terrorism Officers (operatives)
2 Maserati Quattroporte (Model 2005)
1 Vandenbrink Carver (Model 2004)
5 Alfa Romeo 159 (Model 2006)
3 Renault Espace (Model 2006)
6 BMW 3-Series E90 (Model 2006)

Airforce:
4 Airbus A400M
3 Antonov 124 (Chartered, Civil)
1 Antonov 225 (Chartered, Civil)

The 4 Airbuses will be permanently parked at the designated airport, while the others will make several ferry flights to bring all equipment to Garouvia. We however making a few remarks with this letter. Firstly, we would like to have a Base of Operation (BoO), preferably an airport large enough to land the aircraft, as the home of our forces in Garouvia. Second, we would like to state that our taskforce will be operating directly under Van Luxemburgian command, and indirectly under Garouvian command. Which means, that all orders by Garouvia must be made to the Ministry of Defence in Luxembourg, Van Luxemburg, or directly to the base in case of emergency. We keep a security margin of 20 minutes for departs, for the time to make calls to our MoD. Third, we would like to make clear that the Van Luxemburgian Ministry of Defence is currently busy with budget cuts, and that we do not have the money, nor the availability, to send more than the given Airbus aircraft and chartered Antonovs. Further transport from the base will be done by the 4 Airbuses, and the Taskforce will try to operate as independent as possible. We also would like to make clear that all of the vehicles we have sent have been armoured to level B6, except when mentioned. We have made the decision to send no heavy military equipment, as we see these weapons are not needed in Garouvia, as the current situation is not handled as a Civil War.
We however hope we can be of service to Garouvia, and that we can make a difference in the continuing unrests.

Respectfully Signed,

Minister of Defence Philippe Dermont

VAN LUXEMBURGIAN MINISTRY OF DEFENCE
RUE DE LA DÉFENCE 5-17
L-78912 BD
LUXEMBOURG
RÉGION DE LUXEMBOURG,
VAN LUXEMBURG

(OOC: Hey guys, thanks for the compliments. I didn't get home until very early this morning, so forgive me for not having a post up like I said. I'll get on it all now, and thanks again for the compliments. I appreciate it.)

(OOC: More to come.)

A whispered chatter in a dark, cool room. The fan overhead spun languidly, with a single blade.

“There, looks like about 9 of them.”

“Pokh..”

A silhouette moved against the narrow shaft of light coming in through the window, emanating from the dusty sky hanging over the Garubakh tenement district.

“We should never have come this far west.”

“Trust me,” said the silhouette as it shouldered a rifle, resting it on the windowsill, making itself small to prying eyes, “the guys back home have got it worse. Aljiev sent the majority of these dogs out to Syuinrik and the eastern provinces. This is an easy job. They don’t look for us here.”

The sun grew brighter as a dustcloud moved off of its blazing form, and a metallic object flashed on the chest of a masked man. It was a silver cross. The silhouette turned.

“Get rid of that thing, will you? It’s distracting.”

He turned back to the street. The cross-wearing man gripped the emblem tightly in his hand.

There was a heavy exhalation of breath, and then utter silence as the arms of the silhouette steadied and the crosshairs found their target.

“God, shake them to the bone..”

crack-

Against the still breeze, the shot echoed, resounded round the neighborhood, a single shot for a single Aesonian peacekeeper. It was followed by another and another. The rifle moved from place to place, the silhouetted figure never breaking to see if he had hit or killed. Time was too pressing.

-----------

beginning encryption process…
transmitting…

From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev
To: His Royal Highness King James XI

Your Royal Highness,

After extensive and careful revue of the so-titled Garouvian Democratic Aid Package (hereon to be referred to as Gee-Dap), I and other members of my close council have concluded that this offer is one which we cannot afford to refuse. Your generous monetary contribution will serve well in the reconstruction of Garouvian infrastructure and will assist greatly in strengthening security provisions to speed the completion of the constitution and the instatement of a true elected civil government.

Furthermore, the deployment of so-called SCD elements would be most appreciated by my interim government, as it has been the conclusion for some time among myself and other members of my council that the creation of a similar special police body is an absolute necessity in the interest of quelling the destabilizing elements running amok in our country. Any assistance that can be offered in this field, as well as training for regular officers would be most appreciative.

Lastly, the deployment of Mcleodian military elements to Garouvia will be fully authorized by my government. I will hand over direction and briefing regarding this last point, once your forces arrive in-country, to my Interim Secretary of Defense General Hussein Garuvanski, who will be able to provide concrete information regarding hostile elements. While this last may not be popular among the council or a large minority of the population, I believe that it is in the nation’s best interest.

I thank you personally for hearing my request and contributing so greatly to the cause of advancing peace, freedom, and democracy in Garouvia. We are a nation and a people that does not forget such great favors. Anything my government can do to accomodate McLeodian elements while they are operating within Garouvian borders, we will do. Again you have our thanks.

Humbly yours,
Robert Aljiev

terminating transmission…
transmission terminated-

--------

(OOC: The known major factions are as follows. All are always interested in arming themselves further, as ammunition and weapons seem to be in short supply for many of them. This should be helpful to you RT2. These will be updated as more information becomes available.)

Center For Islamic Unity Party:

Faction Leader: Unknown, suspected Iljaz Rasizade

Important Figures: Unknown

Details: Composed of radical Muslim elements, the CFIUP wants to see the Muslim minority rise to power, and is not afraid to use violence to achieve these aims. Along with the Garouvian Christian Democratic Liberation Movement, the CFIUP has been responsible for the overwhelming majority of terrorist actions in the past 6 months. Currently they are embroiled in a sort of turf war with the GCDLF in the eastern provinces of Syuinrik, Aramvir, and Kotiayk.

Garouvian Christian Democratic Liberation Front:

Faction Leader: Unknown

Important Figures: Unknown

Details: Created several months before the outbreak of civil war as a small civilian militia, the GCDLF grew rapidly, becoming one of the primary contenders for control of the capital during the 6 years of war. Despite the former leaders of the faction signing the ceasefire, within a week rebel elements had broken off, taken the name of the organization and resumed the fight. Although their eventual aim is to topple the government, at the moment the faction is embroiled in a turf war with the CFIUP in the eastern provinces of Syuinrik, Aramvir, and Kotiayk. They are suspected to have training camps both in and out of the country, and are better armed than the CFIUP, though with less available manpower.

Notes on the CFIUP and GCDLF:

These factions are the most active terrorist elements within the nation, though their war with each other has prevented them from taking massive steps against the government. However, inability to stop the fighting has led to a loss in confidence while recruit numbers in both factions swell. They play off of century-old tension between the Christian majority and muslim minority, though in the eastern provinces in which the turf war is occurring, the Christian population is the minority and the opposite is true for the muslim population. However, most of the provincial citizens simply want peace.

Veterans’ Front:

Faction Leader: General Albert Mikos

Important Figures: General Andranik Badalyan (faction representative at the Constitutional Committee)

Details: Unlike many of the others, the Veterans’ Front is neither illegal nor currently engaged in violent actions. They exist as a sort of military lobbyist group to preserve the interests of the officer corps. However, radical elements do exist, and General Mikos’s rhetoric has been known to unnerve people for its highly militaristic nature, which leads some to believe that the VF would not object to taking up arms and attempting a complete coup d’etat. They have access to the national armories, illegally and legally, but are looking to fill their private stores in the event of a “national emergency.”

The Communist Party Of Garouvia:

Faction Leader: Demek Mikiov

Important Figures: unknown

Details: since the fall of the communist government in 1973, this party has been outlawed. Making a brief resurgence during the first civil war, and another during the second, this faction is a quiet one, content to bide its time. It is a small faction, with only a few thousand active members, but it is currently on a recruiting drive and seeking armaments.

White Night:

Faction Leader: unknown

Important Figures: Unkown

Details: Presumed anarchist organization. Details unclear.

The Nationalist Faction

Faction Leader: unkown

Important Figures: unknown

Details: Details unclear

Aramvir Cartel:

Faction Leader: unknown

Important Figures: Shavarsh Mirzakhan (international business representative)

Details: The official Garouvian ‘mafia,’ the Aramvir cartel is responsible for most organized illegal activities throughout the nation. During the civil war, they were the leading armaments importers in the nation, and have established contacts throughout the world. Dealing in such things as human trafficking, the sex trade, the arms trade, and the narcotics trade, the Aramvir Cartel is perhaps one of the most sinister and unscrupulous organizations in the nation, and perhaps the world. Based in the province of Aramvir, this faction would be most likely to aid a potential arms faucet in establishing itself.

To: Colonel Sand, Bekhaerian Ministry of Defense
From: General Hussein Garuvanski

We of the Garouvian Interim Government thank you for making us aware of your services, and would like to inquire about the price of these mercenary services.

------------

To: Minister of Defense Philippe Dermont
From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev

We of the interim government and Constitutional Committee would first like to extend our thanks to your government for its answer to our request for aid. Regarding your deployments, we find them to be in order, and will take immediate preparations to receive your forces in Garouvia.

Secondly, regarding specific provisions for your deployment, we will provide you with unfettered access to the Syuinrik Provincial Airport to serve you as a base of operations. The airport exists within a 4 square mile secure zone, and is removed by a ten mile distance from the nearest major city, the provincial capital of Syuinbakhu, and so should already prove to be adequately secured and isolated to serve your purposes.

Regarding chain of command, the Garouvian Interim Government understands the necessity of direct Van-Luxembourgian command over Van-Luxembourgian forces, and will make sure we do not step on any toes. However, the Garouvian Interim Department of Defense under General Hussein Garuvanski will, if possible, remain in constant communication with the necessary Van-Luxembourgian authorities so as to ensure proper sharing of information and facilitate smooth, calculated operations. We would also like to be informed with details before any operations are undertaken, so as to be able to make provisions on our side and to prevent our respective elements from butting heads. In return, General Garuvanski will provide you with all relevant intelligence and up to the minute details on the status of hostile and friendly forces.

Regarding the type of units being deployed, the Garuvian Interim Government appreciates anything and everything that can be given, and we feel that the forces being deployed should be more than adequate at this time, and will certainly serve to aid us in quelling the unrest.

You have our most humble thanks,
Robert Aljiev

OOC: The following is based on the presumption that all nations(excluding those that are enemies) have flights coming to and from each other.

IC: The single AN-220 Passenger Liner touched down at an international airport inside Garouvia. The passengers on board began to exit. Including three seemingly seperate figures. Two tall, one in moderaten height. They got their bags checked through customs, no contraband was in them what-so-ever, and got a taxi to their hotel.

It wasnt a very magnificent hotel by any means, it had been rated just 2 or 3 stars, but it would do. The men checked in, immediatly, surveyed their rooms, and then unpacked. After that was done, two of the men, who were actually Red Tide Mafia Thugs, began to watch the local TV, while the third man, a Red Tide Mafia Of-Capo, basicilly a officer, got down to buisness. He wrote a letter to a member of the Aramvir Cartel that the Red Tide Mafia had actively searched for, this member was not a low ranking thug, but not a high ranking 'made man; either. Instead, he fell somewhere inbetween, he was the subordinate of one of his organisations 'Made Men', but was not one himself

The letter was written and mailed, it said the following:

"Dear [insert name here]

Tell your imediate superior to go to [insert random location here] at 2 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. We have a buisness proposition from our superiors that we think they would find beneficial to their buisness.

Signed: Sergei Valentinya"

The distinctive flick of a lighter sounded and a small flame illuminated the chin of an otherwise shrouded face. The hiss of an igniting cigarette and a thin intake of breath.

“The Red Tide Mafia is known for their commitment to good business.”

“We’ve never worked with them before..”

“Maybe we should have. They recently came into a surplus of Kraven gear. That could fetch a fortune in these parts.”

“There’s no money for that kind of stuff here, Shavarsh. Everyone is broke.”

A gray puff of smoke drifted over the top of the lighter. He clamped down the lid, and the room went black again.

“Not true. Quite the opposite. There’s a fortune floating around. The transfer lines have been glowing red hot these past weeks. Somehow, they’re making money, and we should be too. We know exactly what they want to spend that cash on, and here we are with a way to get it.”

“Your proposal?”

“I’m going to meet them. Personally.”

------

There were still parts of the Garubakh tenement district where life functioned normally, despite the near constant activities of the factionalists and the daily car bombing. The Garubakh café was fortunate enough to be located in one of these parts. It was also one of few tenement district restaurants that could claim to have never been bombed in the last 6 years. It was a small, old, family owned restaurant, not particularly well known, but with exceptionally good food in store for those who did know of it. On this day it also happened to be the site of a meeting of two particularly sinister characters.

Shavarsh Mirzakhan was neither Christian, nor Muslim, nor Jewish. He was simply very, very capitalist. He was a tall, thin man with a tall, thin countenance, and a temperate demeanor that seemed to surprise all that met him. He dressed well, in suits, ties, and imported shoes, and was rarely without a pair of sunglasses to keep out the whirling dust.

He stepped into the restaurant. It was quiet, almost empty. He was not unknown here. He paid the maitre d’ under the table to keep his meetings secret. That man directed him now to the back terrace with a glance. Shavarsh proceeded out the back door and took a seat at a table, secluded from the rest.

(OOC: More to come.)

A whispered chatter in a dark, cool room. The fan overhead spun languidly, with a single blade.

“There, looks like about 9 of them.”

“Pokh..”

A silhouette moved against the narrow shaft of light coming in through the window, emanating from the dusty sky hanging over the Garubakh tenement district.

“We should never have come this far west.”

“Trust me,” said the silhouette as it shouldered a rifle, resting it on the windowsill, making itself small to prying eyes, “the guys back home have got it worse. Aljiev sent the majority of these dogs out to Syuinrik and the eastern provinces. This is an easy job. They don’t look for us here.”

The sun grew brighter as a dustcloud moved off of its blazing form, and a metallic object flashed on the chest of a masked man. It was a silver cross. The silhouette turned.

“Get rid of that thing, will you? It’s distracting.”

He turned back to the street. The cross-wearing man gripped the emblem tightly in his hand.

There was a heavy exhalation of breath, and then utter silence as the arms of the silhouette steadied and the crosshairs found their target.

“God, shake them to the bone..”

crack-

Against the still breeze, the shot echoed, resounded round the neighborhood, a single shot for a single Aesonian peacekeeper. It was followed by another and another. The rifle moved from place to place, the silhouetted figure never breaking to see if he had hit or killed. Time was too pressing.

-----------

beginning encryption process…
transmitting…

From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev
To: His Royal Highness King James XI

Your Royal Highness,

After extensive and careful revue of the so-titled Garouvian Democratic Aid Package (hereon to be referred to as Gee-Dap), I and other members of my close council have concluded that this offer is one which we cannot afford to refuse. Your generous monetary contribution will serve well in the reconstruction of Garouvian infrastructure and will assist greatly in strengthening security provisions to speed the completion of the constitution and the instatement of a true elected civil government.

Furthermore, the deployment of so-called SCD elements would be most appreciated by my interim government, as it has been the conclusion for some time among myself and other members of my council that the creation of a similar special police body is an absolute necessity in the interest of quelling the destabilizing elements running amok in our country. Any assistance that can be offered in this field, as well as training for regular officers would be most appreciative.

Lastly, the deployment of Mcleodian military elements to Garouvia will be fully authorized by my government. I will hand over direction and briefing regarding this last point, once your forces arrive in-country, to my Interim Secretary of Defense General Hussein Garuvanski, who will be able to provide concrete information regarding hostile elements. While this last may not be popular among the council or a large minority of the population, I believe that it is in the nation’s best interest.

I thank you personally for hearing my request and contributing so greatly to the cause of advancing peace, freedom, and democracy in Garouvia. We are a nation and a people that does not forget such great favors. Anything my government can do to accomodate McLeodian elements while they are operating within Garouvian borders, we will do. Again you have our thanks.

Humbly yours,
Robert Aljiev

terminating transmission…
transmission terminated-

--------

(OOC: The known major factions are as follows. All are always interested in arming themselves further, as ammunition and weapons seem to be in short supply for many of them. This should be helpful to you RT2. These will be updated as more information becomes available.)

Center For Islamic Unity Party:

Faction Leader: Unknown, suspected Iljaz Rasizade

Important Figures: Unknown

Details: Composed of radical Muslim elements, the CFIUP wants to see the Muslim minority rise to power, and is not afraid to use violence to achieve these aims. Along with the Garouvian Christian Democratic Liberation Movement, the CFIUP has been responsible for the overwhelming majority of terrorist actions in the past 6 months. Currently they are embroiled in a sort of turf war with the GCDLF in the eastern provinces of Syuinrik, Aramvir, and Kotiayk.

Garouvian Christian Democratic Liberation Front:

Faction Leader: Unknown

Important Figures: Unknown

Details: Created several months before the outbreak of civil war as a small civilian militia, the GCDLF grew rapidly, becoming one of the primary contenders for control of the capital during the 6 years of war. Despite the former leaders of the faction signing the ceasefire, within a week rebel elements had broken off, taken the name of the organization and resumed the fight. Although their eventual aim is to topple the government, at the moment the faction is embroiled in a turf war with the CFIUP in the eastern provinces of Syuinrik, Aramvir, and Kotiayk. They are suspected to have training camps both in and out of the country, and are better armed than the CFIUP, though with less available manpower.

Notes on the CFIUP and GCDLF:

These factions are the most active terrorist elements within the nation, though their war with each other has prevented them from taking massive steps against the government. However, inability to stop the fighting has led to a loss in confidence while recruit numbers in both factions swell. They play off of century-old tension between the Christian majority and muslim minority, though in the eastern provinces in which the turf war is occurring, the Christian population is the minority and the opposite is true for the muslim population. However, most of the provincial citizens simply want peace.

Veterans’ Front:

Faction Leader: General Albert Mikos

Important Figures: General Andranik Badalyan (faction representative at the Constitutional Committee)

Details: Unlike many of the others, the Veterans’ Front is neither illegal nor currently engaged in violent actions. They exist as a sort of military lobbyist group to preserve the interests of the officer corps. However, radical elements do exist, and General Mikos’s rhetoric has been known to unnerve people for its highly militaristic nature, which leads some to believe that the VF would not object to taking up arms and attempting a complete coup d’etat. They have access to the national armories, illegally and legally, but are looking to fill their private stores in the event of a “national emergency.”

The Communist Party Of Garouvia:

Faction Leader: Demek Mikiov

Important Figures: unknown

Details: since the fall of the communist government in 1973, this party has been outlawed. Making a brief resurgence during the first civil war, and another during the second, this faction is a quiet one, content to bide its time. It is a small faction, with only a few thousand active members, but it is currently on a recruiting drive and seeking armaments.

White Night:

Faction Leader: unknown

Important Figures: Unkown

Details: Presumed anarchist organization. Details unclear.

The Nationalist Faction

Faction Leader: unkown

Important Figures: unknown

Details: Details unclear

Aramvir Cartel:

Faction Leader: unknown

Important Figures: Shavarsh Mirzakhan (international business representative)

Details: The official Garouvian ‘mafia,’ the Aramvir cartel is responsible for most organized illegal activities throughout the nation. During the civil war, they were the leading armaments importers in the nation, and have established contacts throughout the world. Dealing in such things as human trafficking, the sex trade, the arms trade, and the narcotics trade, the Aramvir Cartel is perhaps one of the most sinister and unscrupulous organizations in the nation, and perhaps the world. Based in the province of Aramvir, this faction would be most likely to aid a potential arms faucet in establishing itself.

OOC: Was that original attack against me?

There were three men at the table Shavarsh... two of which were sitting on the same side, keeping one eye on a black and white TV on the other side of the room, another on the third man. When Shavarsh approached the table, one of those two mens eye switched from the third man to him.

The third man was reading a menu... infront of him was a glass of vodka. The third man smiled and looked up as Shavarsh reached the table.

"I assume you are our contact." He said in English, with a noticable Russian accent, which Red Tideans pre-dominantly are(Red Tide had been colonised by Tsarist Russia, then became a forward pacific base of the Soviet Union until its fall). "Please," He continued, "Have a seat."

<Encrypted Transmission>

From: President Ryan Payton
To: Garouvian Interim Leader, Robert Aljiev

Upon hearing your request for International Aid, Myself and some High-Ranking members of the government of Cornbread Fanatics had decided to send you $10 Billion for the financial aid, and if requested, a small elite private military company to help with the security issues in your country and to train your military forces until requested to leave. You won't have to repay us for the donation, seeing as our country went through what is going on in your country long ago.

Sincerely,
Ryan Payton
President of Cornbread Fanatics

OOC: Was that original attack against me?

(OOC: Mhm, your men at the crossroads coming under sniper fire. If you had something else planned, I can delete that part.)

Shavarsh took a seat. As he did, a waiter deposited a second glass of vodka by his right hand. Shavarsh raised it to his lips and sipped.

“You mentioned a deal,” he said rather nonchalantly. “I’m interested.”

--------

beginning encryption process…
transmitting…

To: President Ryan Payton
From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev

After careful review of your offer, I have decided that it is indeed in the best interests of Garouvia to accept. You have our thanks for the donation, and we are certain that the deployment of military advisors will be most beneficial to the reconstruction of the Garouvian National Armed Forces.

With Humble Thanks,
Robert Aljiev

Terminating transmission…
-transmission terminated-

"Its quite simple." The Of-Capo said, "You have networks in a place with large buisness potential, we have products... lots of products. The demand for these products from various factions all over Garouvia is pretty high. All of them probably have money. What we lack, are proper connections and networks. So far we have had to smuggle things in through deserted coastlines. Thats worked all well and good, but we have more freighters then we do Zubr's."

The 'Zubr' was a slightly obsolete amphibious assault ship. The Red Tide Mafia owned a limited number(read:4 or 5) of them illegaly. They mainly used them to land and set up a base of operations in places that are in a civil war.

"What we need is ports for our freighter, which not only do we have more of, but can carry more products. You have acess to those ports." He leaned back and waited for the Cartel member to draw his own conclusions.

Shavarsh drained the glass.

“Sounds lucrative.”

He paused for a moment to think.

“My organization can solve your port problem with relative ease. It’s common knowledge that we own and operate over a dozen ports in the province of Aramvir, the gateway to the rest of the nation. We can lease you some of these ports for a fixed monthly sum, and you can come and go as you please. The local authorities don’t bother us, and won’t bother you if we tell them not to.”

He chuckled.

“Most of them are closet members of the factions you’d be doing business with anyway. You’ll be completely secure, and isolated enough to operate openly. Our organization will see to that. We’ll also see to it that you never have a short supply of buyers. For a reasonable commission we’ll make the introductions and get you into the networks, and then you’ll be free to move your merchandise to whichever parties are willing to pay. However, as the territories you will be operating in are dangerous, we’ll be putting a small tariff on every piece of cargo you move, to allow us to better ensure the security of the operation.”

He lit a cigarette.

“If this is reasonable to you, then we have a deal. I assure you that the profits you’ll be making will far outweigh the duties I have just explained.”

"That is perfectly reasonable." The Of-Capo said, he had suddenly become a bit suspicious... although he didnt show it. He had been told by his superiors to expect more to be demanded. But it sounded honest enough.

"Just a fair warning, we sometimes like to play factions off each other in order to keep the..." he quickly found the right words "... demand high as long as possible. It usually involves set-ups and framing attempts. No operations will be conducted against you of course. On that you have the word of the council of five."

The Council of Five were 5 of the 6 most senior members of the Red Tide Mafia. The top one was a figure known as 'The Boss', no-one knew where the Boss or the council of five was exactly, most studies by intellegince agencies point to somewhere in the Red Tide Capitol and also stated that the Council of Five and the Boss were most likely kept in close proximity.

Shavarsh nodded casually. He was aware of the nature of the so-called Council of Five. Their word was respected throughout the underworld.

"The longer this tension continues, the more money's in it for all of us. My superiors have assured me that so long as your operations are contained and do not interfere with our other, how should I say, more private enterprises, we will stay out of your way. Of that you have my word."

He moved to get up.

"Now, gentlemen, if that is all, I have been instructed to report to my superiors regarding the nature of this meeting, and will excuse myself from your company. I wish you luck in your coming endeavors and hope that it will prove profitable to all involved parties. With that, adieu."

He nodded to each of the men, and walked back into the restaurant.

The Of-Capo smiled inwardly to himself, realising he would have to report to his superiors. He got up, and so did the two thugs, he made a mental note to have them return the Glock 19s they rented(you could never be to careful). His flight out would be tomorrow. It would be another six weeks before the first freighter would be able to arrive, even earlier to get Mafia personnel to the ports.

To: The Federal Republic of Garouvia.
From: The People's Republic of Tauk.
We are distressed to hear of your country's plight, and while it is our understanding that financial aid and special police task forces have been set up, we propose to bring a more conventional form of order to Garouvia.

The People's Republic of Tauk offers to send an infantry division of 15,000 peacekeepers to help restore order to your nation's streets while those responsible are apprehended. We await your response.

General Alex Rosky, Defence Chief, The People's Republic of Tauk.

Garouvian Special Police Initiative Criminal Profile:

Name: Shavash Mirzakhan

Age: exact unknown, believed mid thirties

Criminal Record: numerous racketeering charges, all unproven, dismissed due to lack of evidence; key witnesses reported disappeared in each case

Affiliation: Aramvir Cartel

Contacts: Known to have many high level contacts both in his own organization, the Aramvir Cartel, and international high profile groups. Was recently rumored to be consorting with representatives from known international arms suppliers, the Red Tide Mafia.

Details: Is believed to be the foreign representative for the criminal organization known as the Aramvir Cartel. The Cartel is believed to be responsible for supplying many factions during the war with illegally obtained armaments, and has since expanded with the profits earned through this enterprise.

The Cartel is a known participant in human trafficking, kidnapping and ransoming, the sex trade, and an international mover of contraband ranging from illicit narcotics to arms.

The recent meeting observed in Garubakh by one of our informants between Mr. Mirzakhan and an unknown Red Tide Mafia affiliate is alarming, as it can be concluded that the Cartel is looking to allow the expansion of Red Tide Mafia operations into Garouvia for their own gain. Informants within the Cartel report little mention of the exact details of the agreement, leading us to believe that it is a clandestine matter being handled by unknown upper echelon elements.

While the exact nature of Mirzakhan’s role in this cannot be determined beyond his acting as a spokesman for the Cartel, we are continuing observation of the suspect until further evidence of his roles can be obtained. Details will be published as they are made available.

Status: Under Cautionary Surveillance

To: General Alex Rosky, Defence Chief, The People's Republic of Tauk
From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev

I am pleased by your offer of a more conventional deployment, as I feel that such added security would help curb the growing freedom with which the factionalist elements are allowed to operate. Coordination of this peacekeeping force with the special police forces, both Garouvian and international, would certainly be of great benefit to us in bringing order once more and allowing us to finish restoration of a true elected government. The necessary provisions will be made for the deployment, including the establishment of three bases of operation in three provinces: Garubakh, Aramvir, and Kotiayk. Specific terminals of the sizeable provincial airports of the respective provinces will be converted for your purposes. We thank you humbly for your support.

Yours in sincerity,
Robert Aljiev

The first shipment wouldnt be all that spectacular, nothing more then boxes of Ak-107s and 7.62mm ammunition. The crates they were in were labbelled 'Patatoes', and opening a crate would, indeed, reveal a large wall of patatoes. However, pull one select patatoe out and the entire wall would collapse to reveal the boxes of munitions. The weather worked for the Mafia, the drought would make the patatoes rot, therefore smelling awful. It was a method of discouraging inspectors. The freighters were registered with various shipping companies inside Red Tide that acted as fronts.

The reason the first shipment was so disappointing was because of the way the Red Tide Mafia worked, they would bring in small arms and ammunition first, then work their way up the weapons ladder as the conflict grew more intense.

(OOC: Yes, Lord of War was awesome...)

To: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev.
From: Alex Rosky, Defence Chief.

The peacekeeping units will be flown into the three provincial airports as quickly as possible, a small tactical helicopter squadron is also being transported to Garubakh and can be deployed in any of the surrounding provinces in case of an emergency.

The People's Republic of Tauk is glad to aid a fellow nation and hopes that with it's help, normality can be quickly restored to Garouvia. In the interests of furthering diplomatic relations, we request to form an embassy in the capital Garubakh when it is safe and convenient to do so.

Trustfully yours, Alex Rosky.

(OOC: Mhm, your men at the crossroads coming under sniper fire. If you had something else planned, I can delete that part.)

OOC: No, that's actually what I had in mind. I was just making sure it was me you were attacking before responding to it.

IC: Errik was raising his hand to wipe the dust away from his goggles again when the first shot rang out. That saved him. The bullet buried itself in his arm. Swearing vocally, Errik leapt over the roablock, and threw himself down behind it.

His men were doing likewise, but not fast enough to keep two from getting hit. Julio was hit in the neck, and was mercifully dead before he hit the ground. Marcus was hit in the shoulder, but his suit absorbed most of the bullet's force. One of the men at the machine gun had apparentally seen a muzzle flash, or at least he thought he had, for he was firing up at an area on one of the buildings, swinging the gun back and forth slightly to increase the probability of a hit.
***
Cassius, the sharpshooter, had also seen a muzzle flash, and was at the moment lining his sites up on one of the snipers. He aimed for the shadow's neck, and exhaled. Without his hand wavering, he fired, and then swung his rifle to the second shadow.

He fired twice, and then pressed his back up against the wall of the storeroom he was in. If he hadn't killed both of the snipers, a return shot should come through the window soon.

To: Alex Rosky, Defence Chief
From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev

Regarding your request for the establishment of ambassadorial relations, I have set aside two floors of the old Ministerial Quarters to serve as a temporary embassy until more permanent facilities can be constructed. The area in question is in a highly secure zone surrounding the National Assembly building, and is under the protection of the Garouvian National Armed Forces. You are welcome to deploy your private security detachments along with your diplomatic mission if you so desire, though we will gladly cover such matters.

To: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev
From: General Alex Rosky
Our thanks, while we appreciate and accept the offer of protection on the temporary embassy, it is our nation's policy to provide bodyguards for officials in foreign territories also, I hope that we can coordinate to ensure the security of all involved.

The cargo plane rumbled menacingly as it approached the capital of Garubakh, and several of the recruits glanced around nervously, more worried that the plane would fall apart than that any mishaps would befall them once they reached their destination. Further forward in the cabin, the pilot reached for his radio: "Attention Garouvian tower, this is Beta one requesting permission to land, we are carrying peacekeepers from The People's Republic of Tauk..."

<Encrypted Transmission>

To: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev
From: His Royal Highness King James XI

I thank you for your kind and swift response to our offer, and as agreed, the monetary aid transfer is beginning as we speak. Advance elements of the 22nd Nightstalkers are being gathered, and should be landing at a military base of your choice in six hours time. At that time, command of the McLeodian Forces will switch to the control of Brigadier General William McPatrick. He will command all McLeodian personnel in Garouvia, and should therefore be the person to contact with information and questions from now on.

One last thing, due to a potential similiarity of interests between our own troops and the GCDLF, we will not make any overt hostile moves of an aggressive nature against them, and shall focus on the CFIUP and smaller sects as the main targets of our operations.

Regards,

HRH James XI

<End Transmission>


<Fort McWilliam, this present time>

Thirty six men were spread out around the briefing room, most with clearly non-regualtion haircuts and beards, some wearing t-shirts instead of correct uniform, some even listening to mp3 players or radios. They looked to the unknowing eye like a bunch of pre-training raw recruits. But as you looked closer, various scars and the odd tatoo showd they were perhaps a little more experienced than that.

In fact, these were the six squads of Nightstalkers assigned to GDAP, and they were some of the toughest, most experienced, best trained, and best equipped soldiers under the Kings command. They were the best of the best of the best.

A tall thick-set man walked into the room, and without having to say a word, the room was silenced, and men slid into their seats, accessing the brieifing notes available on their desk-top arrays, bringing up the latest available information regarding Garouvia and the various factions within. He spoke slowly, with a deep voice, telling the men exactly what their mission was.

After just half an hour, he collected his notes, turned, saluted the room, and left. The commandos traile dout after him, gathering their equipment from their rooms and the armoury, before traipsing out to the six waiting transports that contained their vehicles and command equipment.

Exactly two hours after the GDAP had been approved, the McLeodian Armed Forces were moving already, six of the medium sized MV-34 Pave Dashers blasting into the skies and heading for Garouvia, trying to catch up with the two large SCD procurred A-380s and the MV-54 Pave Giant transports already airborne and heading for war.

The room exploded with bullets. The silhouette was blown fully into the light as the sharpshooter’s bullet flung him backward. The second man felt something slam into his chest. He opened his eyes expecting to find himself very, very dead, but upon touching the cross on his chest, he found it distorted, a bullet caught in the center. He sighed a silent prayer, and scrambled along the floor towards the door to the dark apartment.

----------

“Fuck, more of the bastards.”

“Another day, another planeload..”

“Beta-One, you have clearance to land. Proceed to runway 3.”

------------

To: His Royal Highness King James XI
From: General Hussein Garuvanski

While we respect the right of all McLeodian forces to engage whichever targets they please, we will remind you that the GCDLF is an illegitimate organization which is known to have actively engaged in and which actively condones terrorist actions contributing to general destabilization as well as innocent deaths. We will not require you to engage these forces, but we will not soften our own offensives against them either.

The Capitol Spire (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v207/JC_Denton/NationStates/Cities/d347b739.jpg), Viconia City,
Federated Union of Democratic Colonies

The lights of the night city shone through the windows of the Foreign Secretary's massive office as he sat in his chair, nearly a throne in its own right, facing the woman in front of him.

The Foreign Secretary, Neil Jaeger, wore a face made tired by the day's work while the young woman seated before his oversized oak desk seemed to glow with excitement. She was young, brash, eager to prove herself worthy of her post.

"Have we contacted the Government of Garouvia yet?" the woman, High Diplomat Allison Serra asked, her voice chipper.

"Yes," replied Jaeger. "They should reply by the morning."

"I do hope they'll have me," said Serra, a smile on her lips.

"I'm sure they will," replied Jaeger. He leaned back in his seat as he suppressed a yawn.

"We'll know more by morning. You'll be kept in the loop as things develop."

"Ofcourse, Sir Jaeger" said Serra, interpreting this as a sign to leave. She rose from her seat.

"Have a nice night, Sir Jaeger."

"Have a nice night, Lady Serra. Stay in contact."

Secretary Jaeger rose to open the doors to his office, allowing the diplomat to leave before he returned to his desk.

"What do we have here?" he asked himself, picking up a tan folder. "Senate Budget Appropriations Revision #34-B-01."

The Foreign Secretary paused for a moment, as if considering opening the folder, before he opened a desk drawer and shoved it inside.

Without another word, the exhausted statesman rose from his seat and exited his office, wanting to go home for the night.


*****

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v207/JC_Denton/NationStates/85fd2fc7.jpg
Official Diplomatic Communique
From the Office of Foreign Secretary Neil Jaeger, Federated Union of Democratic Colonies
To the Office of Interim Leader Robert Aljiev, Garouvia


The Democratic Colonies has long considered itself to be a champion of the democratic process the world over, and as a nation, has a strong history in peacekeeping and nation building. It is our sincere belief that if the circumstances were correct, we could bring much progress to Garouvia.

In the interests of determining if Garouvia is suitable for aid from the Democratic Colonies, and what form any aid should take, the Democratic Colonies would like to dispatch High Diplomat Allison Serra to Garouvia to meet with Interim Leader Robert Aljiev, as well as the members of the Constitutional Committee. It is our hope that Lady Serra will be able to grant our government a better understanding of the plans currently in place for the future of Garouvia, and whether or not these plans are compatible with the views of the people of the Democratic Colonies.

Due to the current security situation in Garouvia, we would like to dispatch a total of 60 protective personel to accompany Lady Serra, in addition to her administrative staff of 10.

- Foreign Secretary Neil Jaeger, Federated Union of Democratic Colonies

(OOC: Post coming up; Need to mow the grass first.)

To: Foreign Secretary Neil Jaeger, Federated Union of Democratic Colonies
From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev, Garouvia

I appreciate the interest you have taken in our nation and thank you personally for responding to our request for foreign aid. I understand your desire to gather direct information on the current situation in Garouvia, and will do everything in my power to accomodate your representative, Lady Serra. While I will ensure Garouvian security forces pay special attention to ensure her security, her private detachment will be granted the freedom to operate for her protection. We hope that this will prove beneficial to future relations.

Yours in sincerity,
Robert Aljiev

Das Groussherzogtum Vun Lëtzebuerg; The Grand-Duchy of Van Luxemburg


We have received your letter in a good shape, and we have accepted it's contains. Our aircraft have already been sent en-route; Our Airbuses will probably arrive in the next few hours. Our forces will mainly be busy with policing duties; aswell as some military taskings for the 144 men of the Groothertogelijke Marechaussee. We appreciate your work for us, and will fully assist you in granting stability in Garouvia.

Signed,

Philippe Dermont
Minister of Defense

Close to Syuinrik Provincial Airport, Garouvia

In a close formation, four Airbus A400M transport aircraft flew several kilometres behind eachother, maintaining a steady speed. The airspeed indicator read a velocity close to the designated stall speed of the planes, while the landing gear slowly popped out of the belly of the aircraft. The Co-Pilot of the first Airbus then reported himself to Syuinrik.

Syuinrik ATC, Airbus VL891F Heavy approaching Runway, Left crosswind, inbound for IFR landing, 2 miles out. Maintaining airspeed of 200 knots.

Meanwhile, a short message was sent to the radio tower of Syuinrik Provincial, reading information about the current aircraft and it's mission.

ENCODED

Airbus VL891F-VL894F Heavy, is of type Airbus A400M. Belonging to the Van Luxemburgian Airforce (Groothertogelijke Luchtmacht), carrying the first parts of the mission to Garouvia. Onboard is the Groothertogelijke Marechaussee and the Police, aswell as their weaponry. The Helicopter detachement and the vehicles will be sent later by the (Civilian) Antonov aircraft. All aircraft requesting Taxi to the location of the Van Luxemburgian HQ.

Signed,

Anna Grimsdottir,
Co-Pilot of VL892F Heavy

On several hours distance, the Antonovs flew, half an hour spacing, behind eachother to the same airport, however carrying the vehicles and aircraft needed for the mission.

The cloud of dust grew under the wheels of the SUV, trailing for nearly a mile, and expanding rapidly into the sky. The engine ground against the grit that cogged its gears, and the exhaust pipe coughed into the trail of dry dirt.

In the back seat, a pair of men sat. One sipped coffee from a cardboard cup, sunglasses covering his eyes. The other, Shavah Mirzikhan, let his cigarette trail from the crack of the partially open window, leaning back luxuriously against the leather. In the front seat, beside the driver, a man in a white suit did his best to appear calm. He was young, his long hair tied behind his head. On his chest was a silver cross that glinted in the sun. Under his coat was a 9mm beretta pistol, unloaded.

The car continued down the dust swept pavement, turning off the highway at the exit pointing in the direction of the city of Aramika.

It was a small city, just barely a city at all, visible only for its port, once one of the busiest in the country through which all manner of goods had flown, but which in past years had seemed to fall silent. In the last six months, however, there seemed to have been a revival, as a new owner took over. The books listed the name as Aramvir Importers Ltd., but anyone with half a brain knew who really controlled the port. It didn’t seem to bother the city’s residents. They got jobs and the Cartel men in their dark suits and sunglasses didn’t bother them. However, in the past weeks new faces had appeared in town, foreign faces, as freighters with strange names started pulling in, unloading large, foul smelling crates.

The SUV pulled up to the gates, and the driver rolled down the window, blowing cigarette smoke into the face of the guard. Brushing it away, he waved to a man on the other side and the gate slid open. The car pulled through, winding its way to the edge of a pier, where a large, rust-covered freighter sat at anchor.

The doors opened, and the men got out. Shavarsh approached a foreign-looking man and gestured to the man in the white suit, speaking softly and rapidly in Garouvian.

“This is Serdic Aramikov. He represents buyers in the GCDLF. He wants to take a look at your merchandise.”

As the third and final transport landed with a screech of brakes, Sergeant Philips gathered his squad about him, and paused to survey the eager, youthful faces around him.

"Ok guys listen up, the barracks building is over there, a temporary armoury has been set up in that building with the barred windows to the right and the choppers, once they're unloaded, will go into the hangar.
Now, the Garouvians have graciously assigned us this terminal to work with, security on the airport perimiter looks pretty tight but I want us sealed off from all civilian traffic also. I want two armed guards on both entrances and put some wire-fencing down across the tarmac, I want that stretch up by 1700."

Suppressing a grin as he watched the recruits scamper away, Philips swung away and began overseeing the unloading of the helicopters. An ex-mercenary, and one of the few men with the division that had actually faced enemy fire, he commanded an aura of respect and awe from the troops under his command. A pity he thought, knowing that if they faced any serious resistance, then the smiles would be wiped straight off these cadet's faces.

:SNIP:

OOC: Ill assume that was directed at me.

IC: Yuri Gerasimov was the one in control of the Red Tide Mafia operation in Garouvia, he had been trained in the basic dialect of the Garouvian Nation before being sent off to take over operations. As such, he had El-Capo's as his bodygaurds(an El-Capo have better weapons and body armor then the regular Red Tide Mafia Thugs, a sub-section of El-Capo's actually fly the few aircraft the Mafia possessed). There were three of them visible, each one with a Kraven made GPMG in his hand.

Gerasimov nodded politely, and said, "A pleasure to meet you, please, follow me." He had a heavy accent, but what he said was perfectly legible. He lead them to a large warehouse, explaining on the way, "We havent shipped in our better quality weapons yet. So far we have small arms, unguided anti-tank rockets, guided anti-aircraft rockets, and their ammunition of course."

Nearby, Mafia thugs worked with the Cartel members to keep security, their Ak-107 were hidden underneath their jackets, a few men posted ontop of the Freighters bridge held Russian made SA-18 GROUSE SAMs and also acted as watchgaurds for any inspectors, but they were posted aways back ontop of the bridge, out of sight of anybody on the ground.

"I wish we could go after them," muttered one of Errik's men.

Errik, still nursing his hand replied, "You think I don't? But we run after them, ten, twenty of them roll right over this roadblock and onto whatever's on the other side. No, we sit tight, we let Cassius handle things."

They were all wondering how the sharpshooter was faring. There was no radio contact, but that was standard procedure. That worried Errik far less than the fact that he was a man short now. Two, really, since he couldn't handle anything with more kick than a pistol with anything resembling aim.

He sighed and wiped the dust from his goggles with his good hand.

“Take a letter, Ilham.”

Secretary Kiskoff clasped his hands behind his back, and stared out the window at the far quieter lower Main Street. A police van had just pulled into a position a half mile away, and officers in riot gear were moving lethargically into their daily roadblock positions.

Ilham sipped his coffee, smoke trailing from the butt of a cigarette resting across an ashtray.

“Due to recent events, and the expected arrival of large numbers of foreign operations personnel and consultants whose specific duties have been outlined in part to include the restructuring and training of police personnel, I am hereby giving my authorization to the Garouvian Special Police Initiative to form an active body of operations personnel, to be selected from the ranks of enrolled members of the national, provincial, and city police forces for the express purposes of handling the duties set forth in the SPI charter, authorized October 1, 2006.”

Ilham finished the paragraph and placed the cigarette between his lips.

“So they gave you the signoff?”

“Aljiev’s orders. He thinks the time’s ready. The SPI guys are practically dancing. They’ve waited long enough, God knows.”

“How’s it looking in the Committee?”

“For all their bitching about them, the foreign security teams seem to have sped up the committee members’ progress. Either they’re not so worried about security anymore, or they’re worried enough to get their asses in gear so they can send the peacekeepers home. Either way, it makes all our jobs easier.”

“What about this? The SPI?”

“Hasn’t come up much in detail. I guess most people think it’s a good idea, or they just haven’t had time to worry about it. The McLeod model, SCD I think was the name for it, certainly seems effective enough, and with their personnel on the ground now, SPI will have some guidance to make sure they don’t fuck up their charter in the first month.”

Ilham extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray and leaned back, stretching his arms.

“How long until they get men in the streets?”

“Well, some of the local precincts already had supplementary training programs in place. SPI should be taking most of their recruits from those precincts, so I’d expect to see dark blue jackets in the field in about a month.”

“Assuming it lasts.”

“It will.”

--------------

Ramiz leaned back against the worn cloth of the driver’s seat, studying the letter from behind a pair of old sunglasses.

By authorization of the Interim Minister of Security and the Office of the Special Police Initiative, you have been selected…

He folded it and tossed it on the passenger seat. He rubbed his eyes and stretched back, staring at the ceiling of the beat up old jeep.

It’s a license to do what you do best Ramiz. A license to kill.

He closed his eyes.

It’s just another blue monkey suit and a new boss. Only difference is the acronym.

He picked up the letter and scanned the bottom.

If you so choose to accept this position, you are to report…at 1100…Aribakh precinct 14…Congratulations once again.

He crumpled it this time and tossed it on the floor, shoving the key in the ignition and driving off down the dusty road. From the window, a gray-faced police captain watched.

“You sure he’ll show?”

“He’ll show. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

On the desk rested a dingy old badge and a 9mm pistol, along with a security clearance card bearing the name Sergeant Ramiz Garubakhr.

To: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev
From: Tauken Division Command, Garubakh Provincial Airport

Our forces have arrived in their respective operational areas, we pass on our thanks to your airport authorities who have cooperated fully in our establishment of three regional command centres.

We are now in a position to begin deployment of the peacekeepers, who will be equipped with canisters of tear gas and flash bang grenades in addition to their standard weaponry. We await only your permission to begin foot patrols around the cities, we hope to deter further insurgent activity and are able to relieve police forces on any checkpoints or roadblocks you specify. Any other duties you would have us perform we will gladly undertake, just contact our divisional command here in Garubakh.

More detailed information, such as Rules of Engagement for Tauken troops will follow shortly, thank you for your cooperation and we pray that the situation is resolved as quickly as posible.

Tauken Divisional Command.

((ooc: I intend to focus mainly on Garubakh as it is the capital city, of course you are free to cause mischeif wherever you please ;) ))

The white-clad Christian, Aramikov, mentally browsed the selection as the Mafia representative told him about what was available.

“I’m looking for AK-107s, and some of those submachine guns your men are carrying, as well as ammunition and a few rocket launchers, both SAMs and ATMs. Also,” he paused for a second here, “would you happen to have any plastic explosives? Something with a lot of bang for my buck.”

[Interim Department Of Defense Communique To Tauken DivCom]

We thank you for your quick preparation and deployment. You have authorization to begin foot patrols. Maps of the major cities including known hotspots and probably patrol paths have already been dispatched. We are requesting that you take over command of roughly one third of the police barricades and roadblocks in and around Garubakh to free up police and military manpower for a planned offensive against factionalist cells in the immediate area. Exact details on this and related operations will be dispatched at a later date, should you wish to coordinate your own activities with ours.

We have laid out a simple list of rules of engagement, to ensure minimal conflict between peacekeepers and conventional Garouvian forces.
Rules of engagement:
• Tauken forces are not to fire unless fired upon.
• Tauken forces may not detain a Garouvian, nor enter any private property without consent of the owner or express permission of a Garouvian officer, military or police.
• The use of tear gas, smoke weapons and flash bangs is discouraged and may only be used to disperse crowds in the event of an emergency or when authorized by a Garouvian officer as set out above.
• Squads will patrol set routes in the major cities assigned to them, being relieved at three hourly intervals, any suspect activity is to be passed onto the regional command centre where it will be shared with Garouvian officials.
Tauken soldiers must obey direct orders from a Garouvian officer as set out above.

Tauken forces, including air support from our helicopter task force shall be available for any operations you require us to conduct or assist in, until then we will continue ground patrols and familiarize ourselves with the operational area.

Channel 2 Local News, Garubakh

“Details are still inconclusive regarding the situation at the Garubakh Madrasa following its seizure two hours ago by armed members of the Garouvian Christian Democratic Liberation Movement. It is suspected that upwards of 200 people, many of them young children are being held hostage by what officer’s postulate as thirty to fifty militants. While there have been reports of shots being fired from within the complex and a brief period of return fire from local officers, details cannot be confirmed.“

The camera pans to the wrought iron gate, smashed inward, but barricaded from the inside by the side of a large black armored van. Fires are clearly visible beyond the wall, but the arched windows of the tan, domed building are dark.

“Reports are just now coming in of the release of a tape approximately 14 minutes ago giving demands from the hostage takers. From what we have been told, they are demanding the release of seven mid to high ranking members of the organization arrested Friday in a poli-”

The sounds of distant gunfire can be heard, and the camera pans to a window, where white tracers are visible. Shouts and the sound of return fire can be heard. The shouts get louder and the gunfire halts.

“We’re not sure what that was about. I’m going to head in for a closer loo-”

Suddenly the windows of several rooms on both floors begin to flash. It appears that the fire is contained within the building, but officers are seen hitting the ground outside. Suddenly a loud explosion can be heard, and the camera pans to the dome of the building where a fireball is emanating amid a massive cloud of smoke.

“There has been a detonation! I repeat, there has been a detonation here at the Garubakh madra-”

Once again gunfire explodes from all sides. As the cameraman climbs on top of a police van to get a look over the wall, several masked men can be seen firing wildly from assault rifles and submachine guns as they break from the entrances. Behind them, blindfolded hostages stumble as they are pushed towards two dozen parked vans. A megaphone sounds from the inside.

“Stop your firing or more will die! Stop your firing!”

The gunfire subsides as the men begin to load the hostages into the backs of the large vehicles. The camera shakes as a police officer appears to shove the cameraman back from his perch. Officers can be seen clearing the crowd and moving back themselves.

“Clear the gates! You hear me! Clear the gates!”

An officer fires his pistol into the air.

The van blockading the entrance moves aside, and the convoy begins to move.

The camera switches to an aerial view of the complex, now engulfed in smoke and flame.

“Reports are indicating that police units have indeed concluded a deal with the factionalists following the explosion. The leader of the militants who’s name has not been revealed has reported that they have killed 50 people in retaliation for what is being confirmed as a failed rescue attempt. The convoy that you see below is heading for the Garubakh provincial airport, where it is presumed they will attempt to continue negotiations for the release of the hostages and a safe charter out of the country.”

*Encoded Message, High Urgency*
From: Tauken Divisional Commad, Garubakh Airport
To: Garouvian Interim Department of Defense

Our condolences to those hostages and police officers who lost their lives or were injured in the recent fighting in the Garubakh Madrasa. As you are aware, Tauken forces are stationed at the Garubakh Provincial Airport and are poised to strike to free the remaining hostages and detain the terrorists.

Please communicate further plans to us as soon as possible but we recommend setting an ambush for the terrorists at the airport, whether that be when they arrive, inside a designated terminal or hangar or even onboard an aircraft. We assure you that our forces will cooperate fully and do everything possible to ensure a safe release of all Garouvian hostages.

Sergeant Philips swore when the news report finished, before leaping to his feet and calling to his squad, to move out to the armoury and prepare themselves for further instructions.

He and three other men, each renowned for his sharpshooting abilities slipped out of the Tauken compound and prepared observation positions, one inside the control tower, one on third floor of the weather centre and the other two, Philips and a small, lithe man named Hammond prepared on top of two administrative buildings, both featuring sweeping fields of fire over a small, disused hangar and terminal area, near the main entrance to the airport. If the terrorists ran anywhere in Garubakh Provincial Airport, it would be here.

Scrambling to his helicopter, it was only about a minute before McGoven eased the UH-1G Tiger into the sky, circling the airfield he allowed another two of the Tigers to join him before directing the others, as well as the UH-1 Ace Transport Craft well away from the airfield, close enough to rush in at a moments notice, but not close enough to spook the terrorists with a fleet of thirty helicopters hanging over them.

"Eagle One, Two and Three are in position, awaiting visual contact, all other elements have left the site and will be held in reserve."

"We can meet that entire order, with the exception of the ATGMs, right here. The ATGMs will take a few weeks to arrive."

He then went on to the referrence about the GPMGs.

"So you have noticed the General Purpose Machine Gun... or GPMG. It is a Kraven made, modern version of the famous German MG-42. Good rate of fire, excellent penetration, although relatively poor accuracy. Now, getting back to your order, yes, we do have plenty of C4 and some Kraven made C12. You'll love the C12, one well placed block can bring down a skyscraper. A bit volatile though. Now, how much are you exactly going to purchase?"

(OOC: I'll respond either later tonight or tomorrow afternoon. Sorry I left you all hanging, but I have to finish a term paper. Thanks for your patience, and great RPing all around!)

(OOC: Thanks alot. I haven't been able to post all that much, but I'm trying to.)

Syuinrik Provincial Airport

The Antonovs' engine sound slowly faded away, while the same role was took by the propulsion of the unloading platforms, slowly rolling out the cars needed for the mission. Several officers stood and watched how their future cars were took out of the enormous belly of the jets, nicely arranged in rows of five cars at a time. Several Marechaussees stepped out of their vehicles, which had been unloaded as first. They were now installing GPS, Satnav and other equipment, which could come in quite handy in Garouvia, unknown territory for all of them. The Police cars had already been equipped with the needed electronics when they left Van Luxemburg, but the standard Military vehicles of the Marechaussee weren't yet.

Meanwhile, the commander of the group, which was, funny enough, Anna Grimsdottir, contacted the Garouvian forces, by using the direct communications link.

"General Garivanski? I was scheduled to link up with you now. I might introduce myself. I'm Anna Grimsdottir, Capitaine (Captain), in the Van Luxemburgian Groothertogelijke Marechaussee. I would like to talk with you about our mission. What are our orders? Patrol Syuinrik?"

((Bumping up in preparation for this evening))

Garubakh Airport,
Garouvia

Three massive cargo aircraft sat on the tarmac, thier rear doors open to the Garouviaian air. The vehicles that rolled out from within the aircraft seemed to be at odds with thier slightly run down surroundings - luxury sedans and limousines that would soon lose thier polish and shine to the dust of Garouvia.

"Mercedes," scoffed a man watching the vehicles emerge onto the airport grounds. He was dressed in a dark suit, already looking worse for wear in the blowing dust. He tugged at his necktie uncomfortably.

"They may be armoured and supercharged, but they're still overpriced German junkers underneath all the add-ons."

"Hopefully, the Garouviaians won't think so," said a second voice, from a similarly dressed, but taller man.

"Hopefully," the first man shrugged. "I still think the Service should have sprung for - "

Both men seemed to pause for a moment, as they pressed a hand to thier right ears. The taller man began to speak into his wrist as they both looked about, scanning the skies.


*****
DC Government Concorde #17
On Approach to Garubakh Airport, Garouvia


"How are our vehicles doing?" asked Agent Commander James Wellington, the man in charge of ensuring High Diplomat Serra's safety. He stood in the cockpit of the DC Concorde, one of the pilot's radios clutched in his hands.

"We're nearly done, sir," came reply over a background of interference. "The local authorities have been helpful. We'll have all our wheels ready to roll five minutes after your Concorde lands."

"Very good," nodded Wellington. "Any idea yet on who's going to meet us on the ground?"

"That's a negative, sir. We've been assured however, that someone will be here to greet Lady Serra as she lands."

"Alright," said Wellington. "I'll inform Lady Serra."

*****

"They seem to be quite busy at the moment," explained Lady Serra's chief assistant as he examined his laptop screen.

"The office of Interim Leader Robert Aljiev hasn't gotten back to us on when exactly you can meet him, although they do assure us that it will be soon. We're relying on the Interim Leader's people to set you up with the Constitutional Committee, so there's no definates on that front either."

"Well, I suppose all of the foreign operations currently ongoing have got them quite occupied," replied Allison Serra as she scribbled a note to herself.

"Interim Leader Aljiev's people assure me that they are working on it," repeated the assistant sheepishly.

A knock on the door interupted the conversation. Commander Wellington entered the room as the assistant opened the door for him.

"Mr. Wellington, are we nearly ready to land?" asked Serra.

"We are approaching the airport as we speak," said Wellington.

"My advance team has already prepared your motorcade, and they only await our arrival," he continued. "We expect to be on the ground in a matter of minutes."

"Excellent," said Serra. She handed her notes to her assistant, who carefully placed them into his briefcase. Serra stood up, walking over to her private washroom to examine herself in the mirror. Dressed in a fine silver skirt suit, she looked the part of an multinational businesswoman, or an international ambassador.

"A diplomat always needs to look her part," she said to no one in paticular as she fussed with a button on her silk blouse. She stepped back outside, a vibrant, youthful smile on her face.

"Mr. Wellington, is it safe for me to be the first one out of the aircraft?" she asked.

"Absolutely."

"Excellent. As soon as we land then, I'll be the first down to greet... ah... who is it that will be meeting me here?"

"We're not sure yet. My advance team hasn't seen them yet."

"Ah. Well, whoever they are, I'm certain they'll help clarify our appointments."

Corporal McLaren fliched visibly when he was informed by Garouvian Air Traffic Control that the Democratic Colonies Concorde was on its approach.
"Have our Garouvian friends neglected to warn them that there are terrorists en-route to the airport? Where are they due to land, how long?"

Cursing at the answer, he gathered a squad and comandeered three of the bases jeeps, the terminal at which the Concorde was due to land was right on the other side of the airport. As the vehicles screeched away, kicking up even more of the awful dust, he prayed that the Diplomat would allow her security to step off the plane first, this was going to be close...

OOC: Garouvia, are the DC personel at the airport where the terrorists are headed? I wanted them to land at the airport in the capitol, or closest to the capitol, which is Garubakh, if I read the OOC information correctly. Is Garubakh Provincial Airport a seperate airport from the one in the capitol, or is that the one I'm thinking of?

Garubakh Airport,
Garouvia

The two agents of the DC Security Service stood quietly, gripped by boredom. They stood on the tarmac, watching the cargo aircraft unload, as they did a few minutes earlier.

"Hey, what happened to our Garouviaian friend? Our liason officer, Jerry? Jamal? Jiggs? Whatever his name was, where'd he go?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him around for about twenty minutes. I think he said he had to go back to the control tower to take care of something. Think we should ask around?"

"No, don't worry about it."

The two men shrugged as they watched yet another armoured Mercedes roll out of the belly of a cargo aircraft.

A third figure approached, a woman wearing a long trenchcoat. The rigid form of a submachinegun was faintly visible under the coat.

"How's the unloading going?" she asked.

"We're pretty much done" responded the taller of the two men, with no urgency in his voice.

"Have you seen our liason officer, whatever his name was?" asked the shorter of the two men.

"He's passed out in the hanger," replied the woman. She grimaced in disgust.

"He's drunk."

"Well, that's fantastic," said the shorter man sarcasticly.

"We don't really need him at this point anyways," replied the taller man. "It's not like he did much anyways."

He looked over at the three cargo aircraft that were still parked on the tarmac, thier doors open and engines on standby. The advance team - thirty agents, including those who were currently busying themselves driving vehicles onto the airport tarmac, were on the scene.

"Let's just get these cars unloaded so these cargo birds can get out of here," he said. "Forget our liason officer. If anything important is happening, I'm sure the tower will tell the Concorde, who'll tell us. They might not be the best and brightest here at Garubakh Airport, but they're not all idiots."

(OOC: Garukbakh Provincial and Garubakh International are two different airports. Provincial is smaller, and only does in-country flights, but is still large in and of itself. Both are in the capital, with Provincial being directly inside the city itself, and International being a few miles outside. However, both the DC and Taulkan deployments would have or will eventually have elements at both airports, as a few terminals at Provincial would be handling overflow. Lady Serra's flight would probably be coming into Provincial since it was preferred that she land IN the city itself.

I know it's not likely, but if any of you know the Washington, DC area, it's the difference between Reagan National airport and Washington Dulles airport. IC post coming a bit later.)

((ooc: So it is safe to assume that all the action will be occurring at the provincial airport at present? All IC posts seem to refer to that airport only so far...))

As the convoy sped between the terminals, McLaren sat in the rear, bouncing up and down and frantically pressing buttons on the portable radio he had grabbed.

"Hello? Come in Garubakh tower! Do you" *thump and a crackling* "...do you have an e.t.a for the Democratic Colonies Concorde? We believe they may be in some danger..."

************************************************************
Peering down the scope of his rifle, Sergeant Philips could just make out the dust clouds of a convoy, moving at some speed towards his position, swinging around so he could see the main entrance, blissfully quiet at this late hour, he ascended another ladder to the roof. Glancing toward the runway where the diplomatic mission would land, he waved to one of the Tiger helicopters, signalling for it to survey the area of the runway and its terminal. He wondered where the other two had gone, but as the pilots were as fresh as most of his own troops he simply assumed they had gotten lost.

OOC: One question Garouvia - is this role-play meant to be a set ending or it can end in different ways (i.e. Ending 1 - Democracy emerges triumphant over the theocrats, Ending 2, the peacekeepers lose and the democratic government is overthrown in a coup'du'etat)?

((Bumping this thread up in the hopes it doesn't die, we need an IC post from Garouvia to continue...))

(OOC: Hey everyone, sorry I didn't post last night. There was some business in my personal life i had to deal with. I'll do my absolute best to post within the next few hours.

To answer Southeastasia's question, the thread can end in multiple ways, as you have pointed out, depending on what happens in the thread itself.)

((Bump))

OOC: Please, Tauk, let's just give Garouvia some time here. I'm sure he or she isn't going to leave us hanging. He or she will get back to the thread when real life concerns allow.

((No problems, I recognize that personal life obviously comes way before posting on a forum, he's just left me wanting more, thats all... :)

OOC: Well, I too hope Garouvia gets back soon. I think it would be nice to continue here.

(OOC: Hello again to everyone. I apologize sincerely for my extended absence. Over the past few weeks my girlfriend and I have been working out a number of issues, and in addition, someone in my family recently passed away. The combination has left little time for posting here on NS, however it seems that everything has been sorted out and I can, and would like to get back to things.

I'd like to continue this thread where we left off, if anyone is still interested. If so, perhaps you could notify me by telegram that you'd still be interested in participating so I can get a headcount of sorts.

Thank you all very much, and again, I apologize for the unexpected hiatus.)

“Christ..”

Robert Aljiev grimaced as he watched the television screen.

“Kiskoff, what’s the status on your ground forces?”

“Sir, our security teams are at least another fifteen minutes away.”

Aljiev closed his eyes and breathed heavily.

“It’s going to make us look like idiots when the foreigners start taking shots and there isn’t a Garouvian soldier in sight.”

“With all due respect sir, isn’t that why you called them here, to help?”

“Goddamnit, Kiskoff!”

Aljiev’s outburst was sudden and the plump security minister took a step back.

“I apologize, Abraham. I hope you understand my concern, but if there’s nothing you can do, than we have no other choice.”

The door opened and a man in a blue airforce uniform stepped in.

“Mr. Aljiev, sir, there seems to have been a mixup. The Democratic Colonies diplomatic aircraft is currently requesting to land at Garouvian provincial airport, rather than international.”

“Sweet God! Reroute them immediately, man!”

“Sir, I’m afraid that’s impossible. The air traffic controller has already cleared them.”

“What?! How in God’s name did that happen?”

“It was a miscommunication, sir. I’m not entirely sure beyond that.”

Aljiev slapped his hand against his forehead and whirled on Kiskoff.

“You get everyone you’ve got to that airstrip. I want it cleared! No diplomats are going to get gunned down in a crossfire on my watch!”

“Immediately, sir.”

Kiskoff dashed out of the room.


Meanwhile, the dust cloud was growing nearer as the terrorist convoy approached the gates to the airfield. No communication from the Garouvian security teams had yet come, and it seemed as if the Tauk forces were going to have to employ their best judgement. The hour was fast approaching when a choice would have to be made.

In the back of one of the middle trucks, the militia fighters were conversing in loud, quick voices. They were scared as shitless as everyone else that day. The madrasa was to have been a sign, a bluff, a display of force. It had all gone horrible wrong. More than half of them didn’t even have ammunition for their weapons. Today was no one’s lucky day.

One of the hostages, a woman, began to sob loudly. One of the fighters tried to quiet her, shouting and threatening her with a pistol. It only made her protests louder. She got to her feet and fell at the man’s knees, begging him, cursing him, hurling obscenities. He kicked her back and fell backwards against the truck bed himself. She screamed. Frightened, he got to his feet and brandished his weapon, threatening her repeatedly. His eyes widened as her screams continued. He was unsure of what to do, and then the decision was made for him. The truck hit a bump and his finger slipped on the hair trigger. Her head was blown back against the metal of the truckbed, blood oozing from a small hole in the front of her cranium.

His eyes widened in horror, and the gun fell to the ground as he stumbled back. Seeing their opportunity, several hostages dived on the weapon. One grabbed it and managed to squeeze off a shot before the other four militia fighters saw them. The man who had killed the woman was hit in the neck. He clutched at the spouting artery as he collapsed against the front of the compartment. The others turned their weapons on the hostages, who scrambled towards the back of the truck. It was a choice between death by bullet and being crushed by the next truck in the convoy. Bodies fell left and right, and tumbled out of the rear of the vehicle as the truck swerved to the side, into a ditch. It rolled over three times, and everyone still alive inside was killed instantly.

The convoy sped up, ignoring the incident, breaking full speed for the gate.

(OOC: I repaired my comp and got my RL issues all sorted out, so we're all set. However, Tauk hasn't replied to the thread or my TGs, so i think we're going it alone.)

“We’re reporting live from Garubakh Provincial Airport where just moments ago a fierce gunbattle between foreign peacekeepers, Garouvian security teams, and members of the Garouvian Christian Democratic Liberation Front came to a bloody conclusion. Early reports indicate that all of the militants have been killed, however during the ten minute exchange, they managed to detonate charges beneath three of the seven vehicles, killing an estimated 34 hostages. Bullets from both ends of the crossfire claimed the lives of what early estimates are putting at 20 additional civilians, and wounding dozens more.

We are also hearing word that the Democratic Colonies’ diplomatic transport carrying the esteemed Lady Serra was unharmed in the catastrophe, and that all personnel aboard are safe and sound, awaiting transport to safer quarters.

Interim Leader Robert Aljiev, has yet to release a statement on the affair, however one is expected to come sometime later tonight…”

----

Excerpts From Interim Leader Robert Aljiev’s Public Statement, 10:00 PM Garubakh Local Time

My countrymen, today is a sad day for all of us. Following examination of the scene of today’s tragedy, the official number of civilian hostages killed is set at 48 men and women…

The coming days must be days of reflection for all of us. We must reflect on the innocent lives lost, on the actions of their murderers, and on how we, as a country, must respond. We must not take these days as days of vengeance, though we are angry, or even as days of grief, though we are all sorrowful. We must take them as days of consideration, and remembrance. We must reflect on the mission we set out to accomplish following the end of years of bloodshed, and on how now, more than ever, we must remain true to that mission, though bloodshed continues…

Democracy is not a fragile bird, my compatriots. It is strong when it is allowed to stand on its legs. However, the process of raising this ideal to its feet is a long and complicated one, and as a farmer tends to his crops, with tender care day by day, so must we dedicate ourselves to the establishment of a democratic future. We cannot allow the detrimental effects of the locust, and the loss of a field force us to forsake the whole crop. No, we must let this strengthen us, and put a new fire in our hearts to make sure the rest of the fields remain healthy and strong as ever…

Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, I ask for your trust in this hour of national tragedy. I ask that you continue to carry for us the flame of your dedication, and allow us to continue the mission you have entrusted to us. Every hour, despite the best efforts of the monsters and the terrorists like those that struck us today, we come nearer to completing our common constitution and establishing for ourselves a government that we may call our own, where every citizen has a voice, and the course of the nation is decided through elections and votes, rather than with bullets and carbombs. We have friends abroad who are as dedicated to our democratic future as we are, and every day the ranks of our own security agencies swell to new and record highs. There is no shortage of patriotism, though our enemies would have us think otherwise…

Let us as a nation continue to stand strong, shoulder to shoulder with each other, looking towards the future, away from a past of bloodshed and chaos. Let us resist the terror that our enemies would put in our hearts, and instead replace it with pride for our country, hope for our future, and love for our fellow countrymen.

Goodnight, fellow Garouvians, and thank you for your time.

(OOC: Democratic Colonies, would you mind posting a response with regard to your diplomatic envoys when you get a moment?)

Poldi’sk, Novikov

Cratered buildings accented the glittering steel and glass that had begun to soar into the skies of central Poldi’sk, a city ravaged by a short but brutal war that had seen the awesome destructive power of war leveled upon an entire nation and its people. At one of the main intersections, completely rebuilt after having been leveled during the naval bombardment, a man of moderate height stood in a khaki-coloured military uniform, tassels blowing in the stiff sea breeze that swept away the stench of diesel and dust and mortar and brick from the massive amount of construction. The man’s piercing blue eyes swept across the city that had still yet to recover its former glory for instead of automobiles, tanks and infantry fighting vehicles remained – their barrels long since silenced, but ready to enforce the peace if required.

General West, sorry to interrupt, sir, however we have received new orders from Imperium.

West turned away from the spectacle of urban traffic patterns and saw his aide-de-camp standing before him, his head covered similarly in a blue beret, indicative of the Peacekeeper divisions. The young captain saluted and West returned the gesture before turning back to his traffic. From behind the aide handed West the document containing his new orders.

The captain stood quietly behind the general, who read the paper and then shook his head before turning around. We are to undergo training for deployment in Garouvia – division wide training, we depart in four days. If you would arrange a conference with the brigade commanders we shall need to review extraction plans.

Our replacement?

The general folded the paper in half and placed it neatly within his jacket’s interior pocket. General Lenshaw’s 3rd Peacekeepers; Imperium is moving up their slot in the rotation so that we can fulfill the ‘honourable deed’ of providing assistance to another fledgling democracy. The captain smiled as West hissed out the end of his sentence. Finally, the general rolled his fingers in the air and the captain waved over his civilian transport, an automobile of local Novikovian manufacture – considered a sign of UK involvement in the rehabilitation of the Novikovian economy.

Ministry of Defence, Imperium, New Britain

Outside the bullet-proof window and down below on the street small automobiles purred quietly, a sign of growing contentment and acceptance of quieter hybrid vehicles amongst the consuming masses. But for Sean O’Donnell the choice of automobiles mattered little, for the window to his back also happened to be soundproof. Unfortunately, the soundproof glass did not extend to the interior of his head; where a headache pounded without relent.

Several hours ago, the Foreign Office had received the go-ahead from its counterpart in Garouvia to draw up the details for a peacekeeping force that would attempt to calm the situation in the nation as it ebbed into democracy. Unfortunately, the logistical side of the effort had proven to be a nuisance if nothing else. Reconstructing Novikov taxed the United Kingdom’s dedicated ‘peacekeeping’ divisions, of the five total units – four were tasked with rebuilding Novikov and the fifth returned to the Home Islands for recuperation and retraining. The Prime Minister’s plan to deploy one of the Novikov units meant altering the schedule for the remainder of the divisions, a task his subordinates had grumbled about earlier in the day.

O’Donnell stared at the abstract of the current plan: 15,000 personnel and some 2,000 combat vehicles to secure the peace. Garouvia would, if it accepted the plan, a large UK presence that would – he hoped – go a long way in securing the country and preventing devolution to dictatorship or an even worse anarchy. Of course the plan would find a vocal, but numerically small, number of detractors mainly from the opposition Conservatives in Parliament, whose MPs struggled to find and latch onto any issue that they could use as a foil against the now dominant Democratic Socialists. That battle, however, would most assuredly be won – unlike the battle for Garouvia.

Encrypted Communication

Attn: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev

Having been informed that initial contacts between your government and the Foreign Office have reached an agreement concerning the deployment of UK ground forces I find the time prudent to relay the initial draft proposal put to me by the Ministry of Defence. Attached to this communiqué is the detailed deployment plan, however, in the interest of brevity I shall relate the most critical aspects to you directly.

Currently the Royal Army is making arrangements to deploy the 2nd Peacekeepers Division to your nation via the Royal Air Force, which would require the use of large runways capable of supporting heavy-lift cargo aircraft. Such a deployment would entail approximately 15 to 17 thousand personnel of frontline and support nature as well as nearly 2,000 combat vehicles. With regards to provisions, the United Kingdom will bear the full financial responsibility of feeding and supporting His Majesty’s Royal Armed Services so long as access to the requisite airfields and ports and harbours is guaranteed. Should securing the sea lanes of communication and commerce prove difficult the Royal Navy is drawing up auxiliary plans for the stationing of a small presence of Royal Marines and Royal Navy warships to secure ports of entrance for fuel, food, and ammunition for the Royal Armed Services deployed in your nation.

This of course is but the proposal presented to me by the Ministry of Defence. It needs the approval of you and your administration, but once that is given I am assured that the first large contingent could be on the ground within five days – and although that will not aid in deterring attacks in the immediate future, such as that upon the envoy of the Democratic Colonies, it should send a very clear message to the insurgents that the international community is prepared to ensure the survival and later flourishing of democracy within Garouvia.

I hope that these troubling times shall be but the start of a friendship of great resilience, strength, and eventual prosperity for all parties involved.

Sincerely,

Alistair Tetley
Marquess of Salisbury
Prime Minister of the United Kingdom

-beginning encryption process…
-transmitting…

Official Government Response:

To: Alistair Tetley
From: Interim Leader Robert Aljiev

I thank you for the quick confirmation of your deployments, following the conclusion of discussion involving the foreign office, and give you my personal confirmation in addition to that already received. The details of your deployment seem to be in order, however with regard to your airport facility request, there are a few minor logistical issues I will bring to your attention.

Due to the deployment of peacekeepers from other nations, both Garubakh provincial and international airports will be unable to accommodate the number of troops you will be deploying, and while we have begun construction on a massive temporary airfield and military base to receive and accommodate peacekeepers, in the meantime, I will need to redirect you to Kotiayk International Airport, which is more than large enough to accommodate your deployment. There are two military bases nearby which will serve as housing for your forces so long as they need it, however it is expected that they will be spread throughout the nation, and in such case, accommodations will be made as needed.

With regard to the sealanes, Garouvia has no navy to speak of, however a coastal militia has been protecting the seaports and coastlines since the conclusion of the civil war. However, we find that every day more illegal smugglers and other nefarious characters manage to slip through the lines, and it is difficult for us to trust the effectiveness and loyalty of the coastal militia officers. In such case, I humbly request some deployment of Royal Navy forces to ensure the security of our sealanes and coastlines and prevent the smuggling of illegal arms and other contraband that would be detrimental to the peace and stabilization process.

Aside from these details, I have no further requests, and will once again thank you personally for the interest you have shown in the Garouvian situation. I hope for a peaceful and mutually beneficial relationship between our two nations in the future, and wish you luck in your endeavors at home and abroad. I will put your personnel in touch with the necessary offices, civilian and military, to ensure a smooth deployment and commencement of operations.

Yours in sincerity,
Robert Aljiev,
Interim Leader of The Nation of Garouvia

-terminating transmission

----------

Kotiayk Province, 17 miles south of Koti, provincial capital

Even the small convoy of three trucks was visible for miles on the flatlands, due to the cloud of dust that rose high off the cracked highway into the perfectly blue sky. A massive effort to modernize the infrastructure in this large, flat province had been interrupted first by civil war, and more recently by the drought that made prolonged construction efforts in the area a difficult task. Kotiayk had perhaps been hit the hardest by the drought, having a long history as an agricultural province, and with the lack of rain, many families that had for generations lived off of their plots of land had gone bankrupt and been forced to take to the road in search of work.

Littered by the highwaysides were hundreds of shantytowns, full of poverty stricken refugees. It was in such a climate that extremist organizations thrived, and it was here, along with the provinces of Syuinrik and Aramvir that the mini civil war between the Islamic Unity Party and the Christian Liberation Organization was at its hottest. The province itself was 60% Muslim, however most of its inhabitants cared little for the bloodshed and had little sympathy for either of the religious militant groups. Today, however, the war seemed far off, as the flatlands were quiet. Nothing stirred but the three trucks and the dustcloud.

The trucks were loaded with refugees, almost solely women and children, moving southwest towards Garubakh. They were of mixed faith, Christians, Muslims, and a single Jewish family. It was not an uncommon sight to see, a small convoy of trucks purchased by a few families, loaded with worldly possessions, wives, children, and sent towards the promise of a better life. Today, however, there was a more sinister element regarding the procession.

From behind a low ridge in the landscape, a half mile away, a man watched the slow moving convoy through a pair of binoculars. He wore a generic camouflage pattern, purchased at a fleamarket in Aramvir, as did his companion, who waited, a small box radio transmitter resting beside him. The first man lowered the binoculars and spoke in a low voice to his companion, nearly whispering even though no one was visible for miles. The second man nodded and tuned the transmitter.

“Attention Garubakh Air Control Station Alpha-14-Charlie, this is patrol F. We have sighted an armed caravan of militants, and have identified them as members of the CFIUP.”

A response crackled over the airwaves.

“Can you be sure that they are CFIUP?”

“Yes, we have confirmed them as CFIUP.”

He gave the coordinates of the caravan, which had pulled over to the side of the road, presumably to water and rest.

“Very well. Air support is en route to engage. Please remain at your present position to confirm destruction of the target.”

They had only to wait a few minutes before the shriek of a jet engine could be heard. They saw the explosion before they felt the wind, as two guided bombs fell dead on. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing save for the burning hulk of the trucks.

“Kill confirmed.”

No one could ever be sure who it was that had infiltrated the provinicial security forces and executed the attack on the refugees. It could have just as easily been members of either the CFIUP, the GCDLF, or some other less visible faction. One thing was certain, however: the uproar that followed.

It was quickly discovered that the convoy had been a civilian one, and both the Christian and Muslim militants immediately tried to claim that the victims had been members of their particular faiths. The outcry came at once, against everyone imaginable: the factionalists, the pacifists who had before refused to side with either militant group, the government for their horrible blunder. Both factions accused the interim security teams of bias against them, and each labeled the event a massacre.

That evening, as the news spead, vigils were held throughout the country. In the eastern provinces, however, many quickly turned to riots, as gangs of instigators incited violence against those of different religion. Hate crimes in Aramvir, Syuinrik, and Kotiayk skyrocketed that night, and the pot began to really boil.

Encrypted Communication

Attn: Interim Leader Robert Ajiev

After consulting with His Majesty, the Royal Navy will deploy 24 vessels to help eliminate the traffic of arms and ammunition into your nation, arms and ammunition that could very well end up in the hands of the insurgency. Additionally, the Royal Air Force has begun airlifting the vanguard of the UK forces to Kotiayk International, from which the officers in charge will liaise with their counterparts as to how best deploy within your nation once the Royal Army’s base of operations has been established.

It is now my time to wish you the best of luck in your own endeavours as I do not relish the thought of having to form a new government from scratch – an honourable and noble task but one far from easy. Doing so is but a testament to your dedication to the people of Garouvia and to the principles of liberal democracy.

Sincerely

Lord Salisbury

Above Garouvia

Despite the turbulence, Lieutenant James Dawson had managed to read several dozen pages of the won and battered novel brought along with his personal effects from Poldi’sk. As the commanding officer of the lead platoon dispatched to Kotiayk International Airport his responsibilities included securing the first perimeter for UK forces in Garouvia – unfortunately the accompanying flight had departed half an hour behind schedule owing to mechanical troubles, at least so the RAF pilots said. Dawson’s immediate superior and most of the liaison staff for the mission had been seated in the second aircraft and as such Dawson would become the first official liaison officer despite his own private objections.

As the small aircraft began its descent, with the larger load aircraft to be following in the coming hours and days, Dawson shoved the book into his bag and through force of habit began to take apart and clean his rifle. With mild curiosity he watched from the corner of his eye as the men and women in his platoon acted like the young men and women who were about to start a vacation. In truth, the young lieutenant expected something far worse after reading the briefings on Garouvia. Most recently the incident with the diplomats from the Democratic Colonies had impressed upon Dawson the need to arrive at the airport with his unit’s weapons at the ready, so to speak.

At long last the transport shuddered as its wheels touched the Kotiayk runway and inside the compartment the whole unit listened to the engines strain as they gave maximum power to slow the aircraft down. After several long moments the noise died down as the plane taxied to a large open area where its ramps would open and the platoon disembark all the while Dawson found himself instructing his platoon to gather their gear and prepare to secure the unloading zone – unsure of exactly who would be waiting outside to greet the UK soldiers. The doors slowly lowered while Dawson pointed to the leading section, two riflemen from which moved slowly down the lower half of the ramp door with their rifles raised ready to counter any potential threat.

House of Commons, Parliament
Imperium, New Britain

… and while I indeed sympathise with the Garouvians I think that the deployment of an entire division wastes precious manpower and precious pounds. Benjamin Yorke smiled as the majority Democratic Socialists hissed and harangued his speech. As the leader of the Conservative Party Yorke found himself in a disadvantageous position as he tried to rebuild a gutted party into a serious opposition force against the Salisbury administration. Finally the chamber settled into some modicum of silence.

And while my esteemed colleagues may choose to see otherwise, the Right Honourable Chancellor does not control the strings of a Poppins’ purse. Once more Yorke paused as the DSP collectively ballyhooed his speech. As the son of a former president of the then Commonwealth, Yorke had been raised into the life of politics and accordingly knew full well the rough ride he would face in Parliament trying to create a new and modern Conservative Party. But to do he would need to use the massive DSP as a foil for his fledgling party.

Make no mistake, to stoop low and hand out but scraps to the beggars on the street is a laudable act and should be rightly praised, but Lord Salisbury’s government may have stooped so low that but the faintest breeze may tip our nation over so that we become the next beggar on the street. At that assertion Yorke promptly sat down for the House of Commons erupted in true outrage while the few Conservative MPs stood and offered shouts of Huzzah! Huzzah! Yorke merely smiled, for there was noting quite like being an MP in the United Kingdom – where acting childish was but part of the job description.

HHNB Philadelphia

While politicians hollered a few hundred kilometers away to the east, lines were cast off from several surface ships and submarines at the Royal Navy’s second largest base in the Home Islands. From the main mast of the leading dreadnought HMS Victorious the flag of the United Kingdom was lowered and the ensign of the Royal Navy raised, its white field and red cross of St. George fluttering in the stiff sea breeze, the canton occupied by a miniature version of the UK flag.

The squadron being deployed was comparatively small by the three-thousand plus strong navy, only 24 vessels, but the Admiralty hoped – along with the Ministry of Defence and the Prime Minister – that such a strong force would show the Garouvians that the United Kingdom was fully committed to the establishment of democracy. Tangentially, of course, they all hoped that such a large and powerful force would intimidate any potential pirates or smugglers intent on shipping in arms and ammunition to support a larger insurgency.

Alfred Deakin International Airport, Viconia City
Federated Union of Democratic Colonies

Viconia was known as a city where true darkness never fell. Even at the depths of midnight, the the capitol of the Colonies shone with the intensity of a dozen lesser cities. Viconia was the seat of power for the Colonies, the heart of the state, the birthplace of the nation.

Viconia was the city where the nation's dead were returned from abroad.

The press was out in force at Alfred Deakin International Airport, ignoring the cold of the night to press thier cameras forward as the transport plane rolled to a stop. It was a massive aircraft, far too large for the cargo that it held that night. The press, kept back by a line of Capitol Police, surged forwards as the cargo bay doors of the transport slowly dropped onto the tarmac. The flashes of photographer's cameras, the lights of live video feeds intensified as the first casket was carried from the cargo hold, the pure white of the DC flag draped over it as its bearers cleared the steel ramp of the aircraft and stepped on Colonial soil once again.

The sight was repeated for the cameras and photographers another half dozen times, before at last the hold of the transport jet was silent. For six men and one woman, the journey was nearly over.

The dead were not too far from being laid to rest.


*****

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v207/JC_Denton/NationStates/4255c001.jpg

SIX DEAD ARRIVE IN VICONIA

Early reports concerning the number of dead from the attack on the DC diplomatic mission to the Nation of Garouvia were confirmed to be incorrect yesterday by a statement from the DC Security Service. Although it was known that casualties were suffered, the exact number and the names of those killed were withheld until all of the family members of the deceased could be contacted. All seven deceased personel were recieved by personel from the DCSS and the Capitol Police early this morning at Alfred Deakin International Airport in Viconia.

These deaths have sparked yet another call from the Peace Party to end the diplomatic mission to Garouvia, but support for the diplomatic effort remain strong in the Capitol Spire.

High Diplomat Allison Serra is expected to meet with high ranking officials from the Government of Garouvia today, marking the begining of talks that many in the Capitol Spire are expecting will lead to the deployment of military assets to assist the struggling provisional government.

(OOC: I've returned from my week long vacation. Apologies for not informing anyone that I was going to be away ahead of time, but with packing and other assorted preparations i didn't have time to jump onto NS. On a related note, I'm going to be departing for France on the first of July, so I'm going to try to propel this RP as far forward before then as I can, hopefully being able to wrap it up. Thanks for your patience everyone, and as always, a great job all around. Putting up responses as we speak.)

North Sea of Garouvia, 19 nm off the coast

“We’re moving as fast as our engines can take us, Mr. Mirzakhan. We’ll arrive within the hour. Just make sure no one’s looking for us.”

The hot, salt wind stung the scarred face of the grizzled man as he pocketed a mobile phone, his form barely illuminated by a single low powered lamp hanging from a line on the deck of the large fishing trawler. The engines growled in the still night as the waves lapped at the patched hull. He loosed a damp cough before turning and stepping inside, onto the bridge.

“Making good time, Captain. Right on schedule,” muttered a man in a greasy raincoat standing at the helm. The old captain nodded and answered with a throat-felt grunt.

On shore, a man watched the silhouette of the approaching vessel through a pair of binoculars. He wore an expensive foreign suit, and between his fingers trailed smoke from the end of a cigarillo. Shavash Mirzakhan, arms broker and representative of the Aramvir Cartel, lowered the binoculars and turned towards a second man, clad in worn khakis and a dated leather jacket.

“Right on time, Mr. Ilzhek.”

The man nodded silently, his glazed eyes staring out into the night.

Twenty-five minutes later, the vessel’s engines cut off as the ship pulled up alongside the pier. The two men on shore approached the gangway as the captain descended.

“What’d I tell ya. Right on schedule.”

Shavash nodded and gestured for the second man to climb the gangway. He followed, along with the captain. The three descended belowdecks, to a sight of several dozen crates of varying sizes. A pair of crewmen waited with crowbars, and at the captain’s gesture, they hefted a long, narrow box and set it before the leather clad gentleman. Prying the lid, they revealed the long bore of a surface to air missile launcher, and a pair of rockets.

“Exactly as requested, Mr. Ilzhek.”

Ilzhek again nodded silently as the crewmen placed the lid back on the box and moved it away, before getting a smaller, square crate, and prying the lid off. Inside were several units of plastic explosive, and electronic detonation equipment. At the sight of this Ilzhek cracked a smile. He turned to Shavash.

“There are four briefcases in the back of my car. Inside these you will find the payment agreed upon earlier. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

Shavash smiled.

“The pleasure is all ours.”

-------------

Kotiayk Int’l Airport, the next day

The dust clouds swarmed high above the runway as the aircraft touched down. Captain Mikhail Iliekhov of the Garouvian National Security Forces watched from the shade of a nearby hanger. As the aircraft came to a halt, he wrapped a shemagh over his mouth and nose to keep out the dust, and stepped out into the sun. As Dawson and his men disembarked from the plane, he halted, letting his rifle hang about his chest, and raised his right hand in a peaceful gesture.

“Garouvian Army,” he called to the foreigners. “Welcome to Kotiayk.”

--------------

National Assembly Building, Garubakh

Robert Aljiev checked his watch for the hundredth time, tapping his foot impatiently. It was bad form all around. A hell of a way to greet a dignified representative from a powerful potential foreign backer. He sighed heavily, before resuming a brisk pacing back and forth across the main entrance lobby.

“They’ll be here soon enough, Robert,” Secretary Kiskoff said in a semi-comforting manner. Aljiev muttered an annoyed response and continued pacing. The sound of a car engine grew outside the door, and then halted. Aljiev’s countenance lit up and he halted, turning to the door in expectance.

[ @Garouvia: I would intervene, but I'm off to camp tomorrow. However, I would like to say that I love your posts. :3 ]

Syuinbakhu, Capital of Syuinrik Province

The rising sun turned the lilting clouds of dust a bright blood red, tinting the city below. The muezzins’ calls to Friday prayers echoed throughout the quiet streets from the dozens of towering minarets. At major intersections, red-eyed security personnel in body armor and balaclavas watched the streets restlessly for signs of trouble. Two days ago the most violent demonstrations had subsided in the city, but there were new rumors floating around about a new, more organized uprising led by members of the CFIUP.

Lieutenant Ibram Lviev took a seat on the edge of the concrete barrier. Removing his helmet from his head he wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun had barely risen and already the temperature was climbing. For him, under the armor and heavy uniform, it was as if he was standing in an oven. Replacing his helmet, he let his rifle fall and dangle about his chest as he attempted to scratch an itch on the back of his right shoulder. The rest of his patrol milled about aimlessly, watching the streets.

Without warning, it hit. A series of three rapid explosions in the northern quarter of the city. Lviev saw the fireballs rising a split second before he heard the explosions and felt the earth shake.

Carbomb.

The thought raced through his head as he dived behind the concrete barrier, and trained his weapon on the street. It was empty. The radio in his ear started going wild, reports from patrols in all quadrants of the city coming in. The unit looked to him for order. He got to his feet cautiously, before jumping over the barrier.

“Come on. We’re gonna go check it ou-“

Before he could finish, the sound of automatic weapons fire cut him off, and he dived onto the ground. He heard a cry as one of the others went down, several bullets in his vest. Seeing a flash on a rooftop he quickly trained his rifle and unleashed a few rounds. The figure leapt to his feet and was gone.

Lviev got to his feet quickly and rushed over to the downed man. He was recovering, dusting himself off, getting to his feet.

“Are you hit?”

The man looked at him, somewhat confused, then seemed to understand, and pressed on his chest. Shaking his head, he began to get up.

“Take positions. We’re gonna stay put.”

Lviev got back behind the barrier, and trained his weapon on the streets and rooftops.

“Hello? Is anyone receiving out there? This is patrol D-4. We’ve come under heavy fire.”

The reports were coming in quickly now. Dozens of patrols throughout the northern districts reporting heavy fire, unrelenting attack from all sides by unknown assailants. Lviev swallowed heavily as he felt his heart sink. He hunkered down further behind the barrier.

“This is Lieutenant Lviev, Patrol D-11. We have come under fire by an unknown assailant. Assailant fled upon return fire. Requesting information on the situation.”

National Assembly Building, Garubakh

The long motorcade slowed to a stop in front of the building, streaks of dust and grime already building up on thier previously polished silver bodies. There were 16 sedans in all, uniformly of a prestigious Mercedes class, escorting a single limousine of DC manufacture.

The vehicles stopped in an area that had apparently been cordoned off for them, the doors of the sedans opening a moment later to allow security agents to disembark.

"I suppose this is what I've been waiting for," said High Diplomat Serra as a pair of hands held open her limousine door for her.

"I'm sure a concensus will be reached," replied one of her assistants confidently.

Lady Serra exited the limousine, and was immediately forced to shield her eyes from a sudden gust of blowing dust. A pair of her administrative assistants followed her as she entered the National Assembly Building, who were in turn followed by a pair of protective agents. The remainder of the protective detail watched as the diplomat and her party of four entered the building, before quietly slipping back into thier idle automobiles.

*****

"Mr. Aljiev, Secretary Kiskoff," greeted Serra as she offered a beaming smile. She was clad in a businesslike silver skirtsuit, her auburn hair styled back into an intricate weave.

She shook hands with both men, giving each a firm grip from her feminine hands.

"I'm glad to finally be able to meet," she continued. "There is much that we should discuss."

Syuinrik Regional Airport, Van Luxemburgian Base

It was demoralising, to sit in an airconditioned building most of the time, waiting for something to happen, while others performed their duty, anmd you were kilometres away. Only a few convoys of the Van Luxemburgian Mission recently left their base, waiting for their missions. The Marechaussee was constantly busy monitoring the radio, trying to pick up something on any of the frequencies.

Hello? Is anyone receiving out there? This is patrol D-4. We’ve come under heavy fire.

The guard behind the installation immediately tuned to what was probably a Garouvian Military frequency. He listened closely, waiting for other messages. He aswell picked up reports of firefights in Syuinbakhu, not far from their base. The guard immediately sounded the alarm, making a lot of Marechaussees and TCT operatives run to their transports. The Marechaussee prepared themselves a two trucks and a Mercedes-Benz jeep, while the complete group of 12 TCT officers made their way towards the NH-90 helicopter.

Attention Patrol D-4, this is the Van Luxemburgian Taskforce at Syuinrik Airport, a group of our patrols are on their way. Expect helicopter support in 10 minutes, a convoy will be arriving later on. Taskforce Out.

The helicopter meanwhile took off from the designted helicopter pad, and the convoy was loaded up and began making their way towards the city, by exiting the airport gate and heading up the road towards Syuinbakhu. The helicopter roared past them and disappeared in the distance of the morning light.

Robert Aljiev returned the smile.

“Indeed there is. I’d like to first offer a belated welcome to Garouvia, and my apologies for the events that have delayed our meeting. I can only express my relief that you were unharmed in the chaos that unfolded at the airport.”

Secretary Kiskoff nodded at this, and spoke up.

“I’d like to offer my personal condolences for the deaths of your men. I’m sorry things unfolded as they did.”

Aljiev’s expression became grave, and he nodded sagely.

“I hope that we can honor their memory with what we accomplish here today.”

Aljiev stepped back and gestured towards a door to the right of the main hall.

“But please, let’s begin.”

A pair of aids led the three down a hallway to a moderately sized room, furnished with leather backed chairs and a fireplace. It was a comfortable room, and Aljiev often preferred to conduct his business here rather than in the starch atmosphere of his own office or a conference room. He invited Lady Serra to sit, before he and the secretary did so.

Syuinbakhu, 7:05AM

Three distinct pillars or black smoke were rising over the sunbaked rooftops of the city. Over the grasslands that stretched out for miles from the city limits, the sound of automatic weapons fire and the occasional explosion could faintly be heard. Inside the city’s northern districts, amid the dust of the streets, the scene was quickly degenerating into chaos.

Following the attack on the convoy, the city of Syuinbakhu, a city of majority muslim faith and a stronghold of the CFIUP had been on edge. On this particular Friday, it had only taken a fiery sermon at the city’s largest mosque in the largest slum neighborhood on the north end to stir up a frenzy. Not coincidentally, members of the CFIUP had detonated three carbombs in the middle of the sermon at three key checkpoints leading into the northern slums. It only took fifteen minutes for a series of mobs, incited by members of the CFIUP, to form and begin unleashing havoc on the undermanned government patrols. By 7AM, less than an hour after the explosions, there was chaos in the streets.

Syuinbakhu Military Airbase, 2 miles outside city limits

“You listen to me! I don’t care how many men it takes! I want this dealt with! Do you hear me?”

Colonel Ibrim Mirazhak slammed down the phone and turned on the younger officer standing beside him.

“The bastards won’t give us reinforcements for another four hours! Listen, I want a full quarantine of the northern half of the city within the hour. I’m not going to have this spill out of the slums. We don’t have the manpower to douse it, but sooner or later it’s going to burn itself out.”

“Sir, what about our patrols already in the city? We’ve been getting distress calls since it started.”

“Now you listen here, Major, I don’t know what we’re up against. There could be 10,000 men in there, 5,000 guns, and ten million bullets, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to risk what little resources we’ve got on a gamble. I want that cordon set up. Then we’ll worry about the patrols.”

Just as he finished another officer burst into the room.

“Colonel, sir. We just received a transmission from the Van Luxemburgians. They’ve dispatched units to the crisis areas.”

“Well, goddamnit! Get on the line and call them back!”

“It’s too late, sir. They’re already moving into hostile territory.”

“Shit..”

Mirazhak spit on the floor, his expression screwed up into a wad of disgust and frustration. He turned to the first officer.

“Get the cordon set up. Until that’s done, the VLers are on their own.”

Syuinbakhu

The Nh-90 helicopter approached low over the buildings, and headed through the black smoke, over the exploded wrecks, and sped away from the location, to return only seconds later. There seemed to be quite some people on the streets, and pilot Muhammed Dabagh decided to make another low approach. Assisted by the head of the TCT team, a woman named Marcha Boer, he adressed the people on the streets.

Attention citizens of Syuinbakhu, we request you to retreat in your homes, and leave the bomb site. Thank you.

The helicopter began descending, and touced down next to one of the wreckages moments later. The heavy armoured doors were opened, and the counterterrorism team jumped out. They put up a protective ring around the bomb site, and the helicopter took off again, heading off for another round over the city. Dabagh's gunner was having a hard time of dividing the people on the streets between "terrorist" and "civilian", so Muhammed decided that he had to hold fire except when fired at.

The convoy meanwhile drove into Syuinbakhu, while the first shotguns were divided between the personnel. Others received the standard-issue JK-13, (OOc: Which is basically an improved version of the SIG-551) Loaded and checked. The convoy made it's way through the city at high speeds, using satellite navigation to get to the location where the TCT team had been dropped.

Syuinbakhu

The would-be rioters at what would later be noted as carbomb site one were for the most part unarmed civilians, mostly young men and boys from the neighboring tenements who had joined in the disturbances out of a combination of anger at the recent attacks on the civilian truck convoy in Kotiayk, frustration with their own unemployment, and simple boredom. Few had any real desire to challenge the armed peacekeepers, or government forces other than with thrown rocks. As the helicopter touched down and the counter-terrorism forces appeared, many began to reluctantly step back, seriously considering going back home. However, for the two CFIUP men on the rooftop of an apartment building overlooking the intersection, dispersing was the last thing on their mind.

Asad Abu Bakr flipped open the sight on the rocket propelled grenade launcher and quickly and carefully set it on the fuselage of the helicopter. Behind him, a second man watched the scene below through the scope of a hunting rifle. Satisfied with his aim, Bakr pulled the trigger, and with the all to familiar hiss and trail of white smoke, the RPG exploded in the direction of the chopper and the peacekeepers below.

National Assembly Building, Garubakh

"Let's get down to business, shall we?," asked Lady Serra.

One of Serra's assistants occupied the seat next to her, a sleek black laptop computer at the ready. The remaining three of Serra's party waited outside of the room, not wishing to get in the way.

"The Democratic Colonies is fully ready and able to assist in the stabilization of Garouvia," Serra said confidently. "Should we decide to do so, we could offer quite the helping hand. Exactly how forthcoming in assistance the Democratic Colonies should be, however, is something that I have been sent here to determine."

"Gentlemen, I apologize if I am being blunt, but the my government wishes to know what the plans for the future of Garouvia are, should we offer our assistance to you. I and my colleagues are hopeful that a free, democratic state is what lays in the future for Garouvia. Free, ofcourse, in civil and economic terms."

Lady Serra raised an eyebrow slightly as she emphasized the word "economic".

"The Democratic Colonies believes that an economic agreement could offer both of our nations some benefit. My country is in need of food, oil - both of which, we would compensate any seller of quite fairly, ofcourse, but as is often the case amoung allies..."

While she was still smiling and friendly, the immaculately dressed diplomat seemed far less noble then she had only a moment ago.

Aljiev listened intently, but leaned comfortably against the back of the chair. Kiskoff scribbled some notes on a pad of paper. His expression accommodating, but still grave and serious, Aljiev replied as the foreign diplomat finished.

“Garouvia, as you may know already, had for the years preceding the outbreak of the civil war been dominated by the oil, mining, and commercial agriculture industries, all of which were privately owned except for half of the agricultural industries, which were nationalized. In addition to establishing a free civil democracy in Garouvia, it is also my goal as the Interim Leader and the chair of the Constitutional Committee to ensure a free economy in Garouvia following the formation of the new democratic government, with the exception of the agriculture industries, which I would like to see remain under state control to aid the national recovery. Once infrastructure is sufficiently reconstructed, and the economic situation can be deemed stable, this industry will also be returned to the private sector. After all, we are not communists here.”

Aljiev smiled at this, and leaned forward a bit, clasping his hands in front of him and resting them on his lap.

“Now, if this plan is put into effect, it would be possible for the new government to set aside a certain percentage of the national harvest, assuming a surplus, for sale to friendly foreign entities. In other words, we could earmark a bit of it for our backers, the Democratic Colonies included. With regard to oil, Garouvia has a great deal of it under these dust plains. The infrastructure has in the past year been near completely reconstructed to pre-civil war levels, largely due to an influx of foreign investment. With the way things are looking, by the time the new government is formed, and assuming the plan to keep this industry private remains intact, the oil industry should be almost double the size it was before the war. This is a juicy prospect for a nation looking to buy oil, however while the government could put you in touch with the people in charge, all dealings would have to go through the private owners, of course.”

Aljiev leaned back once again, his expression still friendly.

“However, all of this depends heavily on the outcome of the events Garouvia is currently experiencing. You see, economic direction, while not the duty of the Committee to decide, has been a hot topic of debate since it convened. There are those who are firmly in opposition to temporary nationalization of the agricultural industry, and those who oppose full privatization, however, most would gladly see a free economy. Such steps cannot be truly decided until the new government is formed, and a person who shares such a vision is elected as the nation’s leader.”

Aljiev’s expression again grew grim.

“I’m rather certain you see the connection here. At the moment, the responsibility for this nation is completely on my shoulders. As the interim leader, I am not the popular representative. The only reason I hold the position I hold, rather than, say, Fatah Hadaku of the CFIUP, or one of the Christians, or some General is because my men with guns were able to stand toe to toe with their men with guns and thus put an end to the civil war. However, with the way things are going, I cannot say with certainty that this will remain the status quo. We, the interim government, are understaffed, underfunded, and time is against us. The men in the committee spend all their time squabbling over semantics when there is war out in the streets. This is the reason I implored the nations of the world to intervene on our behalf, to buy us time. However, there is another thing to consider. If it appears that I cannot keep this nation together, and on the right track, then the people will follow their own leaders. If it goes that the constitution is drafted, elections are held, and someone else takes the role as the elected leader, the economic plan falls to pieces, and you lose your investment.”

Aljiev paused here for a moment.

“I’m laying it out very plain for you, madam. Garouvia needs whatever help it can get, as quickly as possible. If the Democratic Colonies commits to Garouvia, the benefits, I can promise, will be vast. Garouvians do not soon forget favors, and the lucrative economic prospects I have described will certainly be beneficial to all parties involved. This is the situation we are faced with.”

"Ofcourse," said Serra. "I believe I understand perfectly."

While not so many words had been exchanged, the meaning of both parties had been well represented. The Democratic Colonies needed oil and food, enough to feed the needs of over 7 billion citizens. Robert Aljiev needed troops, to keep his country intact, his power stable.

The words were vague, the promises not specific, but the transaction was clear.

"While I am very much reassured by your economic plans for the future, I would like to know more about the plans to reform the government to fit more in line with the free democratic world. How often are elections to occur? What steps will be taken to ensure that the human rights of the Garouvian people are protected?"

Serra cast a quick glance at her assistant, who was typing rapidly against his silenced keyboard.

"My government sees much promise in Garouvia economically, but at the same time, must ensure that the future of Garouvia will be a free one."

Aljiev nodded sagely.

“Of course. It has been my intention from the beginning, first and foremost, to ensure a safe and stable return to democracy. The founding of the United Citizens’ Alliance For Democracy saw this kept in mind, following the death of President Margaryan, who I served for six years as his Vice-President. Following the conclusion of the civil war, and the peace talks, the Constitutional Committee that convened here in this building swore an oath to not rest until Garouvia had a fair and democratic constitution, and a government elected by the people, for the people, and of the people. While the fine details of the democratic society that we seek are currently up in the air, as this is the purpose of the committee’s debate, it has been tentatively decided that Garouvia will be governed as a republic, with a bicameral legislature, an executive branch, and a free judicial branch. Consensus on the length of the executive term of office is split between those who support a four year term and those who would rather allow six years. Regarding the civil rights of the Garouvian people, it is the intention of the Committee to include a bill of rights in the final draft of the constitution, the rough draft of which was the first matter of business that was undertaken when the Committee convened. Preservation of freedom of expression, freedom of the press, and freedom of religion are to be held paramount in the new democratic Garouvia.”

"Excellent," said Lady Serra. "Most excellent."

"I will report back and discuss the matter with my superiors in the Capitol Spire, but I believe our meeting has been most... productive."

Serra rose from her seat, offering a handshake to the two Garouvians.

"If my government approves of a military deployment to Garouvia, I will remain on hand to serve as ambassador and diplomatic liason to the Garouvian Interim Government. Are there grounds nearby suitable for the establishment of an embassy?"

Serra paused as she gestured at her assisant.

"Oh, and also, please, could you arrange to have your aides provide my staff with your government's estimates on how many troops you will require and where they will be needed? I understand that the situation is very fluid, but any reports that you might have on hand would be appriciated, and may prove to be... most influencial."

Aljiev stood, and shook the foreign diplomat’s hand. Kiskoff did likewise.

“I have set aside several former government buildings to serve as temporary embassies for interested foreign nations, all within a few blocks of this building. This area is possibly the most secure in the country, so you won’t have to worry about attacks. Also, I’ll have Secretary Kiskoff here write up a situation analysis immediately that should give you the information you desire.”

The three exited the room, and returned to the main hall. Aljiev shook Lady Sera’s hand again.

“Thank you again for your time and interest in our situation. With that I’ll leave you to report back to your superiors, as I also have some matters to attend to.”

Aljiev bowed slightly and excused himself. Kiskoff did likewise. The two proceeded up the stairs, down a hallway, and into a large conference room, where several men in uniform were already seated. They stood as the interim leader and the secretary of security entered.

“Please, sit. Now, what’s all of this about?”

Aljiev took a seat at the head of the table. Kiskoff did likewise. A man in a green uniform at the opposite end of the table stood, and, spreading some documents out in front of him, began to speak.

“Mr. Aljiev, I’m afraid the situation has worsened in the past hour. General Ahmed Mejlis, the governor of Syuinrik province and chief of those military districts is reporting that the northern districts of the city of Syuinbakhu have been occupied by several civilian mobs, backed by large numbers of the CFIUP militia. Our patrols in these sectors have been completely cut off, and right now we can’t even get casualty numbers, though we suspect many of the patrols have already been destroyed or captured by the militia.”

Aljiev’s expression was calm.

“I want our armored security detachments deployed immediately, along with whatever infantry we can muster in the surrounding area. Air support in the surrounding provinces is to be put on call. Also, I want elements of the Special Police Initiative deployed. General Markeiv, that’s your territory.”

A man in a green uniform with a black stripe on his right shoulder spoke up.

“Sir, the SPI units haven’t completed training yet.”

“This situation is the best training they’ll get. All of them are experienced combat personnel. I want them on hand.”

The first man began to speak again.

“Sir, there’s something else. Military Intelligence has reported that several key members of the CFIUP, responsible for inciting this and several other recent acts of violence are within the northern districts as we speak. Informants have even given tentative possible locations of these individuals. If we could kill or capture the men in question, the CFIUP in Syuinrik province would be severely set back.”

“Then get it done, but move fast.”

Aljiev stood.

“Gentlemen, I know you all, and you are all professionals. I want this situation dealt with professionally.”

The men nodded. Aljiev turned and exited the room. Kiskoff stood.

“You hear him. Get it done.”

He turned and exited as well.

Kotiayk International

So this is Kotiayk, Dawson muttered to himself, watching the line officer approach. To his men waiting on the ramp of the transport the Lieutenant snapped his fingers, in reaction six heavily armoured soldiers darted out to take up positions around the aircraft while deep inside the belly of the behemoth of a plane diesel engines roared to life, the first two infantry fighting vehicles lumbering out, their ammunition, however, had been due to arrive on the second and now delayed aircraft.

At last, Dawson turned his attention towards his new partner, studying the man with the cloth around his face. As the dust whipped up by the massive turbofans settled, Dawson turned to have the artificial wind at his back before approaching. Good day, he shouted over the dying whines of the aircraft, now taxiing to its pre-assigned hangar. Unlike the Garouvian, however, Dawson felt uneasy about letting his guard down and while he lowered his rifle, its barrel now pointing distinctly at the ground, he kept his finger lightly on the trigger guard.

United Kingdom, he shouted, turning his shoulder to the man and pointing at the national patch on his shoulder, an icon that Dawson began to feel would become either famous or infamous around the country. Lieutenant James Dawson, Alpha Company, 3rd Battalion, Poldi’sk Rifles Regiment, he presented himself curtly, the ‘lieu’ in his title coming out distinctly as ‘left’. He waved with his free hand to the aircraft behind him. Unfortunately the liaison officers are onboard the second aircraft, our mission was to secure a perimeter, air threat detection units, guard duties, et cetera. However, I suppose given the current circumstances I am the interim envoy, Dawson smiled coyly, well aware of the fate that had befallen the envoys of the UK’s friends in the Democratic Colonies and hoping that those events explained his nervousness and the rather abrupt deployment of his forces.

HMS Tireless, off the coast of Garouvia

Somber blue lights filled the dark compartment, decorated with plaques and pictures hanging off studs affixed to the metal bulkheads. An older man, his hair white and sparse, though fairly complemented by a neat mustache, lay stretched out upon a small rack, a cap’s brim clutched in the hands folded neatly across the chest. He lay still, his mind put to ease by the humming and purring of the nuclear reactors located aft while the hull occasionally groaned in reaction to the enormous pressure put upon it by the sea that surrounded one of the Royal Navy’s long-distance patrol submarines, the first Royal Navy asset to reach Garouvian waters.

A small groan, but of a distinctly different origin, caused the man to turn his head at the hatch that now lay half open, the face of a younger, red-headed man intruding into the compartment’s quiet sanctity of sorts. Captain? the red-headed officer inquired.

Yes, Daniel, what can I do for you?

Henry says that we are now on station 15 kilometers off the northern coast and after checking with Sarah we are good to go with drone deployment on your command.

Very well, Commander. Raise her to two-zero meters and deploy the drone and its communication buoy. Then take us back down to one-five-zero and then come get me when something happens.

Very good, sir.

Three minutes later, the nuclear submarine rose quietly to the depth required to launch through its forward tubes an unmanned aerial reconnaissance vehicle, contained within a canister along with a small buoy that would relay the drone’s data to the submarine. Within ten minutes of the order being issued the first drone from the submarine began its slow and lazy ascent high into the atmosphere where it would remain aloft for some thirty-six hours waiting and watching until the main fleet arrived.

Syuinbakhu

One of the operatives saw the two men standing on the rooftop in a flash, and warned the others. However, he was the only one to open fire on the roof, where a few bullet holes appeared under the target. He however didn't see if he had hit the two, he had to run for an oncoming missile. The Helicopter hastily lifted from the ground, Early enough to not get hit by the missile, late enough to get a hole blown into the belly of the helicopter. It managed to fly away, but had to return to it's base immediately for repairs.

The operatives, meanwhile, managed to run away from the explosion, and take up positions inside a public building.

De Witt!

Present!

Weiss!

It kept silent, except for several groups of people pasing by.

Weiss!

Weiss is not here, sir. I last saw him at the helicopter.

Then we'll have to miss him! Call up the convoy and request them to pick us up, we need to get out of here.

Attention M-convoy. This is TCT. We are in need of pickup. TCT out.

The convoy meanwhile sped through the streets, ever closing in on the three high pillars of smoke. As soon as they got through the corner, they eyed a large part of the belly of a helicopter, completely roasted by the high-explosive load of the helicopter. The vehicles then skidded to a halt, and the personnel, except for the drivers, jumped out. They checked their rifles, and formed an urban patrol group by sending an even number of personnel to the other side of the road, and quickly ran up to another corner.

Boer! This is your wake up call! The Marechaussee is here!

From the other side of the road, a group of 11 TCT operatives returned to the corner, and the complete taskforce ran over the road, back towards the trucks.

We'll stay here for a while. Secure the road! I want the wrecks checked out, and secure that rooftop!

She pointed at the rooftop where only moments earlier the two terrorists had been, but had vanished. A group of 5 operatives started by kicking in the door, and running through the house, upstairs and up. They made their way up through the top floor, and eventually found the stairs leading up to the roof. The group of 5 installed themselves just below the roof, and shouted up.

This is the Police! Come down with your hands up!