NationStates Jolt Archive

[First of all, this is strictly closed. The only RPing outside of that of Doomingsland and I allowed will be newpaper articles and TV broadcasts covering the event. That's it. I'll be making an OOC thread for general chatter and problem resolution.]


The goal of Operation: Neighborhood Watch was quite simple. Doomingsland had become quite hostile to the Imperium as of late and the Imperium didn't know near enough about the Doomie armed forces. So, it regularly sent out patrols of electronic surveilance aircraft escorted by a combination of interceptors and fighters to scout out the opposition. It had been going on for a long time and, remarkably enough, without incident. However, that was about to change and in a big way.

The lumbering E-128G began its turn into the "inward" leg of the racetrack pattern. That was, it was turning into the bay that seperated the Doomingsland and Macabees colonies, although territorial integrity was carefully observed. It didn't allow them to see far into the enemy colony, but it gave a decent hint of the activities and capabilities of the enemy. Just as the aircraft was settling into the straight portion of the leg the inside left engine ceased to work in quite a spectacular fashion. While a mild cause for alarm in and of itself, the pilot also found a couple aerolons unresponsive and a somewhat major fuel leak occuring. The aircraft continued its turn, which was quickly countered by pitching the working aerolons to the opposite direction, which unfortunately meant that they were locked into going straight and flying in a direction that would bring them into Doomie airspace. Equally unforunately, the fuel tank's sealing system wasn't working completely, which meant that if they weren't shot down there was a good chance that they'd land in enemy territory.

"What's out fuel status?" Asked Lt. Colonel Schuyler.

"Ma'am, we can try for Acastia, but call it 40/60 whether we'll make it or not," replied her co-pilot.

"God damnit all to Hell. Why now?" The question was clearly rhetorical, so the Major didn't offer an answer. "Raymer, get on the horn and inform out escorts of the problem. Also, order the crew to begin purging their systems. I don't care where we land, nobody gets to examine our gear."

As it happened, Lady Luck had decided to declare neutrality and, with no help from God forthcoming due to the blasphemy, they quickly found out that Acastia had been nothing but a pipe dream. As the Doomie radars began activitely painting the aircraft, Schuyler made a quick decision.

"Shield flight, you are to break off immediately and RTB. Do you copy?"

The flight leader, a Captain and pilot of the lead interceptor, was clearly hesitant, "Ma'am, we're not supposed to leave your side."

"Damnit, Captain! You aren't going to accomplish anything by getting all of our asses shot out of the sky. Now, break off and get your asses back to base, that's an order." As the fighers broke off she switched to the general guard frequency, "Mayday, mayday, this is Colonel Schuyler of the Imperial Air Force. My aircraft has experienced a catastrophic failure, port side aerolons are unresponsive, and I am losing fuel. Requesting permision to land."

She set the comms computer to repeat the message until a response was reciepted and then set about the work of completely sabotaging the sensitive (in the mechanical and security senses of the word) electronics. After punching in a code and then having her co-pilot authenticate, she sent an electromagnetic surge through the isolated computers and sensory gear that completely fried and disabled them. Although that wouldn't stop the Doomies from actually copying the gear, no computer tech would ever be able to get to the code that ran the now useless pile of silicon.


[Doom, your show now. I'll leave it to you whether you want to assume the aircraft lands or whatnot.]

OOC:You should put a link to the OOC thread in your first post, likewise with the OOC thread and this thread.

IC:

Long had the Empire watched the Scandavian infidels defile the skies and waters just beyond her borders with growing animosity. The Proconsul did not like the idea of potentialy hostile aircraft spying on his armies one bit. So far, the Empire had done nothing to these people, had let out no cry of protest. This was in the hopes that the Scandavians would eventualy realize the futility of such missions.

Yet they continued to come in their lumbering electronic intellegence aircraft to spy on good Imperial citizens. The patience of the government of Doomanum Nova was indeed being tried more than the Scandavians could possibly had known. Or wanted.

The effectiveness of the Scandavian operation, as the High Command saw it, was mediocre at the very best. Even that may have been pushing it. With plenty of decoy units left out within range of the foreign aircraft, mainly Imperial Guard units and outdated RADAR systems (the good ones were well hidden and usualy switched off, the ones that were closer to shore, at least), the attention of the Scandavian intellegence units would have been diverted to these units rather than the superbly concealed defenses and mobile units just out of the range of their aircraft, or barely within.

But, as Tribune Marcus Mallius first noted aboard his ACI-148A AWACS aircraft, the Scandavians, perhaps, had learned of these mistakes. A foreign aircraft, obviously one of there's, was flying dangerously close to Imperial airspace, much closer than usual. Its flight pattern was more or less irregular and it did not appear to be straying from its course which would bring it directly into friendly airspace.

He had to call this one in.

"Delta four, delta four, this is SkyEye Actual, we have an inbound Scand Echo-One-Two-Eight-Golf heading dangerously close to your AO, copy?" he said over the radio from his station.

Everyone else aboard his aircraft had been aware of this movement for the past twenty or so minutes. As the ranking officer, it was his duty to call it in.

The man on the other side of the line was a Centurion with the Arma Caelus Imperium Doomanum (ACID, known as the Doomingsland Imperial Airforce in English-speaking nations) by the name of Decius Curtius. Curtius was an Aquila pilot leading his squadron in a routine patrol operation through the sector Lt. Colonel Schuyler's bird was about to cross into.

He had been monitoring the aircraft via IRST as soon as it had entered range. He wasn't authorized to switch on his RADAR as of yet. He was ordered to be sneaky, and so sneaky he was.

"SkyEye, this is Delta Four, we see them...Orders?"

Just as he sent the request for orders, the transmission came through. Now this was most interesting. Here it was: a geniune Scandavian ELINT bird on a silver platter for the delectation of the intel weenies.

"Wait one, Charlie...I've gotta send this up the chain..."

Local air defenses stood by as the foreign aircraft crossed into Imperial airspace.

Curtius and his wingman immediately took action, pushing the throttle forward and sending the aircraft forward, supercruising at mach 1.2, slowing down as he came upon the ELINT bird. The pair of ACI-73D Aquilas approached the E-128G from behind.

This was probably the closest units of either airforce had gotten to one another, and so Curtius' wingman immediately set to work snapping pictures of the E-128 with his digital camera he kept with him.

Curtius nosed his small (by foreign standards, at least) stealthy aircraft up a bit, toying with the throttle to match the speed of the ELINT bird they were now escorting. He moved his sleek, stealthy aircraft so that his cockpit was directly parallel to the Scandavians and peered inside through his visor.

A voice crackled through his head once again, "Delta, your orders are as follows: Escort Scandavian aircraft to Haelium AFB where it will land. You shall be updated upon completion of that objective..."

Curtius got on the line with the Scandavians, whom he was staring directly at as he spoke,

"Attention, Scandavian aircraft. You have been granted clearence to land at Haelium Airforce Base eighty miles south of your current position. You will follow my lead and we shall safetly escort you to that location..."

[OOC thread here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=490627]


Schuyler sighed and then replied, "Roger. Be advised that any manuevers to the left are going to be nearly impossible and that we'll probably still have reserve fuel leaking when we land. Fire trucks and HAZMAT teams might be advisable."

After that, Schuyler simply followed the Doomie fighters as best she could. She sincerely hoped the Doomies were smart enough to treat her crew well, although that hope didn't extend too far.


***


The commander of the squadron, what was commonly known as a wing in other air forces, looked at the four pilots standing at ease in front of him with something between worry and disgust. "Let me get this straight, you broke off your escort knowing that there was a possibility they'd land in Doomie territory? Why didn't you just blow the aircraft out of the sky yourself and then hand over the specs for the ELINT bird yourselves, then?"

The cold sarcasm made the pilots wince internally, but none of them dared show any external emotions or attempted an excuse. The Old Man was pissed and was looking for a reason to go into a full-blown fury. When none took the bate he continued, "No matter, I'll have to run this upstairs. I think the General is going to decide to hault any further ELINT or AWACS flights that close to Doomie airspace. So, outside of training flights, consider this squadron grounded. Dismissed."

The four briefly came to attention and then filed out the door. None of them were especially happy, but then again leaving Imperial Aerospace Force crew in the graces of the Doomies wasn't a happy thought. If they weren't already being tortured, they probably would be when they refused to say more outside of their name, rank, and serial number.


***


The two-tone ring of the comm unit woke the Empress from a deep and very peaceful sleep. She was by no means a morning person, so a grumpy, "Yes" was all that answered.

"Highness, there is a situation that demands your attention. A military situation," came the voice of her personal servant and sometimes advisor.

"Tell them I'll be out shortly," answer Lien.

The Empress dress in something more appropriate for guests and ran a brush through her hair, makeup would have been a surrender to her vanity that she had neither the time nor inclination for. A short walk to the War Room, when it had been built the decision had been made to avoid any silly affectations like "Situation Room", and she was standing in front of her senior military commanders with a look akin to put-on patience.

"Well? What's so important that you had to wake me up? Get on with it," she ordered.

General Jackson's lips twitched in a suppressed smile, he was well aware of her grumpiness, "Highness, as you know we had an operation ongoing on the Colony Region to monitor the defense of the Doomingsland armed forces. A few hours ago one of our E-128 aircraft suffered a catostrophic engine failure that caused problems with its manueverability and also punched a hole in its port fuel tank that was apparently not able to be closed. At last report they were on course to touch down at a Doomie air base."

Lien's face went white, a true feat considering her skin tone, and then shifted the other direction to an alarming shade of red, "An Imperial aircraft was allowed to encroach Doomie airspace? Why wasn't it shot out of the sky?"

Jackson knew her attitude towards the Doomies and decided to try for placating, "Highness, they were trying for Acastia but the damage to the tank was apparently more severe than they estimated. I don't think the Doomies would-"

It didn't work, "I WAS TALKING ABOUT OUR ESCORTING FIGHTERS, BRANDON! BETTER THE CREW DIE AND THE AIRCRAFT LOST THAN FOR THE DOOMIES TO HAVE BOTH!"

All four general officers were shocked, the Empress didn't yell. Lien visibly calmed down and then continued, "You will immediately find a way to deny the Doomies the continued possession of both the crew and aircraft. Do you understand me?"

Without waiting for an answer, she stormed over to a comm unit and punched in the code for her Director of Foreign Affairs, "Sadira, summon the Doomingsland ambassador. Yes, I'm serious. I want whoever it is here in the morning. Yes, I want you there. Take care of the message yourself. Good. Thank you. Good night, cousin."

She turned to look at her generals, "I'm going to bed. If anything else pops up, wake up my husband."


***


"-Good night, cousin."

Sadira grinned. If they were cousins at all, it was only through a mutual Aunt. By and large the nobility had a tendency to marry into the commons, however sometimes it just happened that two nobles married each other. It amused them both to no end, but that wasn't a point to dwell on. She had no idea why her Empress wanted a personal meeting with the Doomie ambassador, but it was clear from her voice that she was both as angry as Sadira had ever heard her and worried sick. Turning on her computer, she quickly brought up the program that was used to generate diplomatic messages and began typing.


..::Class 1 Diplomatic Message, 2048QKb Encryption::..
TO: Doomingsland Ambassador, New Copenhagen
FR: Sadira Saleh, Director of Foreign Services
SUB: Summons

You are hereby directed to present yourself to New Copenhagen Palace to attend Her Imperial Majest Lien I Larsen. You are to be present no later than 0900 local time. Be advised that no personal weapons or guards will be allowed in the Palace.

..::End Class 1 Message, End Encryption::..


Sadira sincerely hoped that the Doomies kept a round-the-clock shifts at their comm gear like every other embassy in the world. Logic dictated that a fanatical, paranoid empire like that of Doomingsland would take such as a matter of course, but who knew what the Doomies considered logical?

The ELINT aircraft was escorted to the base without any further incedent and was immediately given landing clearence. HAZMAT and fire fighting units were already on the tarmac waiting for the aircraft in addition to security troops with armored utility vehicles and machineguns.

As the aircraft began to touch down, the fire engines and HAZMAT vehicles raced to catch up, surrounding it as it came to a screeching halt. Ambulances were also on site in the event there were any wounded aboard the aircraft.

A staircase was wheeled up to the exits of the E-128 and translators shouted for the crew to hurry up in exiting the aircraft. They did not know how stable it was at the moment, and the last thing they wanted was a multi-million dollar piece of machinery with a foreign crew errupting in a fireball on Imperial soil.

That would not look good on the evening news.

As the crew began to exit, they were directed into waiting Velite utility vehicles, not quite as hastily as their exit from the aircraft. Once they were out they were more or less safe.

Comfortable quarters had already been set up for the Scandavian airmen (they, of course, were bugged and wiretapped, but it was alot better than having to spend their stay in Doomanum Nova in a dungeon) and the vehicles were immediately bound for them where the base commander awaited their arrival.

Surprisingly, it seemed that the Scandavians would not face torture and mutilation at the hands of the Inquisition, or even true imprisonment.

Finally, the vehicles arrived at the barracks assigned to the Scandavians, a modest two-floor concrete structure. Legatus Junius Cammilus, the base commander, stood outside along with an entourage of security personel and officers. Cammilus wore BDUs and a revolver on his belt, his combat boots meticulously shinned. He was a bit plump, but that was expected. He was an airforce officer. PT was not something a high ranking officer in the Imperial Airforce practiced much. Too much paperwork to worry about.

He was farmiliar with Scandavian ranks, and when Schuyler approached, he greeted her as lieutenant colonel.

"My friends, welcome to Haelium Airforce Base," he began calmly, "You shall be housed in these barracks and there shall be a translator attached to your group at all times. The Imperial Government, that is, our Imperial Government has made a note to treat this as a sort of...officer exchange program. You shall be afforded all the rights of one of our personel of an equivelent pay grade and are free to roam the base as you please -provided you do not violate restricted areas..."

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Imperial Embassy, New Copenhagen

Ambassador Marcus Gnaeus was working late that night and had already been wired word of the incedent an hour before, and had already ordered his limo to prepare to disembark. He had been waiting for the call to come in to head over to the Palace for some time, now.

Finally the phone rang.

About fucking time, he thought to himself as he picked up the phone.

One of the intel guys was on the line and delivered the orders to report to the palace. He was already out the door before the intel weenie could finish speaking the message.

Within minutes, he had stepped into his limo, which sped out the embassy's front gate towards the palace. This was going to be a long night.

Like many people, Schuyler had preconcieved notions about those she considered enemies. In her case, that she was going to be treated in the most unimaginably attrocious manner possible had been a given, although one easily justifiable by the infamous torture tapes. That she and her crew were to be treated like honored guests, indeed officers and enlisted people of an allied nation, was enough to throw her off her mental balance. Partway through the base commander's speach she recovered her wits. The bit about the translator almost made her laugh, but she controlled the rude impulse, and wondered if he realized that outside of English for government documents there really wasn't an official language. She almost didn't make the point, but decided on a polite way to do so.

Saluting, with her hand canted back forty-five degrees, and officially introducing herself, she replied, "Sir, I thank you, on behalf of myself and my crew, for the warm reception under the somewhat unusual circumstances. We are greatly sorry for the intrusion and disruption we have caused and I endevour to make sure my crew is of no trouble to you. On the matter of translators, my entire crew speaks English. However, I know at least one of my crew is from the Aurora Marches and Latin is one of her childhood languages, so if there is any misunderstanding she should be able to help."

The twist was, she replied in Latin herself. With the sometimes exception of people growing up in the St. Ives Marches, children in the Imperium grew up multi-lingual out of cultural pride and because it was necessary to know English to function in the Imperium. Children learned a third language in middle school and either expanded upon it, if they didn't do well enough to pass the languages battery tests at the end of 8th grade, or learned a new language in high school. In Schuyler's case, Latin was her fourth language after Dutch, English, and Danish. It was typical, even in the Imperium, for somebody that had learned two or more languages in the Germanic group to want to seriously avoid the romantic languages due to the radical vocab shift, but Schuyler herself had taken to it with a purpose.

When they were about to be led off to their rooms, Schuyler had them form up into four files. It wasn't anywhere near the precision of the Army, the Army made a fetish out of neatness and precision that made her sick. There wasn't even a point for it in the Aerospace Force, not when one often saw aircraft shaking down into two-aircraft teams and coordination was more often than not done by automated datalink and the occasional imput on the screen.


***


Ambassador Gnaeus was let in through the palace gates, after having indentification duly check by a guard in the black and gold battlearmour of the Royal Guards, and was seen straight through to the throne room. It was a huge, cavernous room normally only used for large audiences and for official functions where one of the smaller meeting rooms was not appropriate. That it was now empty, save for the four thrones and one Advisors Seat, was a small token of intimidation. It was also, in a not-so-subtle way, meant to show the exact limits of her patience.

After exchanging greetings Empress Lien began, "Imagine my surprise when I was woken up in the middle of the night by my personal servent this evening. It is not often that happens, you see, without something of a emergency, because I am most emphatically not a person who deals with early morning and a lack of sleep very well. Imagine my greater surprise when I found out that my General Staff was gathered in the War Room over something so insignificant as a minor aircraft accident. Care to guess what emotion I felt when I heard it was your nation that held my aircraft and crew? Too give you a hint, the way you treated capture personnel during your various wars has turned the phrases 'Doomingsland Armed Forces' and 'respector of the laws of war' into something of an oxymoron. So, here is what I require of you and your nation. From your nation I want my crew back within a week and my aircraft, after it has been repaired, back within two weeks; both in one piece. Naturally the Imperium will reimburse you the costs of doing such, but it is not something that is open to excuses or negotiation. Further, within the next 48 hours I want a note, hand delivered from you to me, that your government intends to comply with my demands. Failure to meet either demand, and within the allotted time, will result in consequences that both of our nations would most likely prefer to avoid. Am I perfectly understood?"

The bit about wanting to avoid the consequences wasn't precisely true, at least not from Lien's standpoint, but Gnaeus probably knew that. If he couldn't tell from the clipped tone Lien was using, then the open glares from the Crown Prince and Crown Princes would have been a clue to even the densest of diplomats. The Royal Family knew perfectly well of Doomingsland's reputation, both for its excesses and its battlefield prowes, but they were neither impressed nor intimidated. Sadira honestly hoped the Ambassador understood that, and could convince the Doomie Emperor of that. Lien was absolutely convinced that her people were presently being interrogated in a most ruthless manner and wasn't prepared to tolerate it for a second more than was necessary, even if that meant doing something drastic.

Gnaeus' face remained totally expressionless as his nation was berated and insulted by that pagan whore these infidels called Empress. He simply stared back, not even honoring those filthy ingrates that were in line to the throne of this backwater shithole he was stationed in.

He had actualy been assigned with this embassorial duty as punishment by the emperor for some offense he did not recall at the moment. Oh yes, something about embezzling. Due to his superb connections, he had managed to avoid trial and exile, but had still recieved what now seemed a just punishment. He had to deal with these people for the rest of his career.

After the empress had ceased her verbal assaults, Gnaeus replied in a neutral, throaty voice, "I cannot personally make any promises as to his response, but I shall deliver your...requirement, I believe you called your request, to His Lordship."

His gaze remained on the Empress.

"I can, however, asure you that your airmen are being well-treated and cared for. Do not forget, Your Majesty, that our two respective Empires are not currently at war. What reason would we have to inflict unnecessary harm on your people?"

The High Command as a whole wasn't particularly impressed with the Scandavian military. While they were well aware that their land and air forces were better trained and equipped than the enemies they had faced thus far in the form of Questerian Commonwealth and Woodstock Pact units, they saw the Scandavian Airforce as nothing more than a half-assed clone of the Omzian Peoples' Airforce (although they did recognize that even a half-assed clone of that particular organization was better than anything they had faced thus far). Their army, on the otherhand, they saw as nothing more than a paper tiger. They had seen nothing particularly impressive in that area weather it be in equipment or training.

Gnaeus knew that an incedent was bound to happen regarding this soon. Caesar would never bow to the wishes of these barbarian scum.

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

Cammilus smiled and returned the salute in the Doomish manner, a Roman stiff-arm salute. He admitted to himself subconciously that he did not know much about the culture of these people and found himself caught somewhat off-guard when Schuyler responded to him in Latin.

"Ah, excellent, translators will not be necessary, then. Carry on, then, Colonel."

If it had not been obvious already to the foreigners, this was not some sociopathic Legionary they were dealing with.

The quarters sat four to a room and seemed relatively comfortable. These were officer's quarters, and so they were relatively spacious and had various creature comforts. The bunks were already made and fresh sets of BDUs sat in the drawers. While these were the same BDUs Imperial troops wore, they already had the various Scandavian insignia and rank velcrowed on in the proper spots in addition to the name of the personel the uniforms were meant for.

It was somewhat unnerving how quickly the data regarding names and whatnot had been gathered and placed on the uniforms. They had landed not even twenty minutes ago. That was Doomish effeciency at work.

Lien curbed the impulse to call for a guard and have the man shot, no matter how tempting it actually was. It'd never do to cause an incident that would probably lead to a general war. And, if she'd been privy to the man's thoughts, and was willing to be honest with herself, the typical what have you done lately reaction was fairly well justified, since the Imperial ground forces and navy hadn't seen action since the Slaver War and the IAF even longer than that. All of this passed through her mind in an eyeblink and then she replied, "Very well, you are dismissed. Be prepared to answer a summons within the next 72 hours."

Without even waiting for a reply they filed out towards a side entryway and a guard in massive assault armour practically melted out of the shadows. It was the same black color as the armour that had checked the man's indentity, but the green and gold celtic armband denoted a soldier belonging to the Saerskillda Skyddsgrupp, the arm of Special Operations Command taskes with protecting the Royal Family. A single outsized arm indicated that the diplomat should see himself out, and the soldier fell in behind him.


***


Schuyler was fairly well shocked at both the amicable base commander and the way the Doomies had produced uniforms with the correct insignia. It said something about their potential to cause havoc that they'd managed to produce perfectly correct anything. She silently thanked God that Imperial frontline troops no longer wore BDUs, otherwise it would have been a relatively simple matter in the event of war to slip some men through the lines posing as Aurorans.

As she was being fitted out she turned to the base commander and asked, "I can't speak for the rest of my crew, but I'm sort of peaked. May we get some chow?"

Gnaeus stood and bowed his head as the Empress took her leave. It was only proper; while she was a pagan barbarian infidel, she was still royalty, and thus he was required to show her respect. He turned, exiting the palace with the armored behemoth of a soldier trailing him. He didn't need to be told twice to leave.

First order of buisiness was to report all that he had seen to the Inquisition's attache at the embassy, and then to deliver the Scandavians' demands to Caesar. Once that was finished, he would have his family flown out of the country back home. He did not want to put their lives in jepardy. Surely there was to be backlash once the Empress realized her demands had fallen on deaf ears.

Soon enough, he would find that he was somewhat out of the loop in that respect...

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

"Certainly, mess hall is open 24/7, right over there," replied Cammilus, pointing towards a nearby concrete structure, "The food is...well, military food. Nothing spectacular," he added, quite honestly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, colonel, I must take my leave, for I have some paper work to fill out regarding your...visit."

He did a crisp about face after exchanging salutes and walked off with his aids, who seemed to have news for him. When they had walked a safe distance and stepped into a waiting vehicle, Cammilus turned to his XO, Prefect Lucius Daedelus.

"Do you think they suspect it, Junius?" asked the Prefect as the Legatus took his seat.

Cammilus shook his head. "I think we were correct in asuming that amicable behavior would catch them off-guard. Now, you have word from the High Command?" he asked as the vehicle sped off towards the headquarters building.

Daedelus produced a manila folder and handed it to him. It was stamped with the seal of the Emperor. This situation was severe enough to warrant the attention of Caesar Himself, it seemed.

He opened the folder and flipped through the contents, smirking.

"Well, Lucius, it seems that our guests will not be staying with us much longer," he said as he shut the folder, looking up at his XO.

"The Inquisition shall take them into custody, then?" querried the Prefect.

"No," replied Cammilus, shocking his XO, "They are to be sent home within the week. We have no use for them as it is unlikely they know anything that we do not already. That, and it seems to me that Caesar is playing a political game with that Empress of their's..."

Daedelus nodded his head, "Indeed, our behavior thus far has been completely contrary to what the barbarians had expected. Now, shall our current treament of the crew continue in this manner, or shall I have them locked up?" he asked eagerly.

Cammilus looked over, slightly irritated. "What the hell do you think, Daedelus? Why would we act nice and suddenly change our minds if they're being sent home in a week?"

It was a stupid question Daedelus admitted to himself. "Very well, s-"

"Besides," Cammilus interrupted his subordinate, "If there is any intellegence to be gathered, however mundane it may be, it will be through loose talk on the part of the heathens," he said decisively as the vehicle came to a hault.

A guard opened the door and saluted the two officers as they stepped out, continueing their conversation as they walked through the entrance of the HQ building and into the elevator that would take them twelve stories below the ground to the control room itself.

"Now, do you have an update on the status of the aircraft in question?" asked the base commander to his subordinate.

"Yes, sir. Repairs should be complete within twelve hours or so and we'll have it out of here an hour after that. Our own crew is already farmiliarizing themselves with the operation of the bird, so their flight to Arretium Nova should be relatively smooth."

The Imperial Government, while it had decided to return the crew, had no intention of giving up the aircraft. Technicians from IAC would have a fun time figuring out what made the thing tick.

"Good. It seems our part in this incedent will be done with soon enough."

[Sorry this has taken me so long. Hadn't realized I'd neglected it so.]


It was at this point that the Imperium's Internal Security Service took over. They had always maintained an extremely small and discreet watch on the Doomingsland embassy, it would have been stupid to do otherwise when a potential enemy is known for its underhanded special ops. However, that was now supplemented by several mobile surveillance teams, which included various common makes and models of cars that had highly illegal modifications such as plate changers to make detection extremely difficult, plus the cars (ten per team) switched the lead care every few blocks.

Those surveillance teams which could be pulled from active cases for a while were and assigned to standby duty so that anybody that left the embassy in a car could be tailed and tracked. Foot teams were also assigned, often transported in normal-looking vans to increase mobility. And, in case those teams were made and the Doomies lost a nut, several ISRT tac teams were put on standby. And, is a measure against any Doomie terror cells that might be in country, SITAPS was activiated; it was basically an inbuilt, and very black, system that copied either specific or broad (depending on how it was configured) signals from certain lines and cell towers and forwarded it to one of the Imperium's few quantum computers deep in the basement of ISS' HQ where a whole host of things were analyzed; nothing could be done about satellite phones except to monitor where the signals went from and to, which was obviously done. It was perhaps overkill, but the Doomies were incredibly unpredictable and it didn't hurt to be ready for everything possible rather than be caught flat-footed.


***

Similar measures were taken by the External Security Service. The Doomie colony was almost constantly monitored in just about every spectrum, plus radar just to be sure. Europa class shuttles were being readied with several satellites each in case the Doomies in the colonies lost their minds and shot the satellites down, it was the unpredictability factor again. Anything that could be monitored basically was and movements by Doomie units (land, air, and sea) were noted, as were units that either didn't move at all or otherwise had very strange movement patterns (and were put down as possible decoys or red herrings.)

Quantum encrypted time-beam signals were sent to air and sea commands to update strike plans, although the units did nothing beyond the announced training and downtime. After all, it wasn't like preventative planning required units to give their possible intentions away. The ground units didn't recieve anything at all, their proximity to enemy territory meant that as a matter of course they were on a higher than normal alert and typically trained harder to maintain a sharper edge.

All in all, the Imperium acted like it was about to be denied its demand and was conscious of the fact, but did its best not to give too much away by compartmentalizing everything until it was necessary to take the lid off.

The Scandavians' moves were more or less mirrored by Imperial Forces in their own way, Imperial Guard units were activated and moved into their pre-assigned defensive positions. Troops in the colony were already itching for a fight, so when word came down the line that something big looked like it was going to happen. Imperial interceptors routinely began to probe the Scandavian RADAR and surveilance on Scandavian units was upped.

Surveilance of Tryne was also stepped up, both in the area of ELINT and AWACS flights and satelite surveilance.

Those that were supposed to be watching the Doomies were also being watched.

Air Defense Command seriously stepped up drills and drastically increased the alert status. They seriously expected something, and it showed. Some wanted something to happen. They were eager to blow some Scandavian birds out of the sky.

The colony's strategic forces also increased readiness and updated strike plans. If the Scandavians tried something stupid, it would result in more than just the deaths of their sailors and airmen.

However, as time passed, it seemed as if cool heads would ultimately prevail. Arrangments were being made with the Scandavian government regarding the return of the aircraft crew. Right now the only question remained was who would provide transportation.

The captured ELINT bird had been ferried to a more secure base further inland, taxied to a secure underground bunker, and dismantled. Arrangements were being made within the High Command to further transfer the aircraft to a secret base in the mountains. Hopefully the Scandavians would forget about their aircraft...

[Sorry it's taken me so long to reply, but I've not had the motivation to do it.]


The entire episode coincided with the annual fleet exercises in Tryne, which was perhaps fortunate for the Imperium. The exercises were always what were called semi-live, that is real missiles and shells were fired but they lacked the penetrators and explosives to do real damage. However, the senior ship personnel and the various commodores and admirals knew what the junior officers and enlisted men did not; something wasn't right about the ammunition. Practice rounds had serial numbers stenciled in size 24 font at the base of each missile or round and each serial number started with a two-letter code. Practice ammo either started with MP or RP, whereas the ammo being loaded onto the ships started with either ML or RL; the implications to anybody familiar with the code would have been obvious had they been present to witness the loading. Thankfully, the crews were confined to their ships and the Naval Guardsmen had the fleet docks locked down.

The reason for these measures was simple; the Imperium hadn't really expected the Doomies to cooperate on the issue of returning the aircraft and had been watching for the aircraft. It helped that the intelligence people had narrowed down where the aircraft could have crash-landed and had the ESS focus their SATINT efforts on those bases. It paid off, in spades, and now the Imperial Navy and Imperial Aerospace Force were preparing to show the Doomies why the Imperium's motto was, "Nemo me impune lacessit."

Fortress of Corroborum

It stood out quite clearly from the vast pine forest below; a towering goliath among dwarves. It could have been a medieval castle; in fact it had been constructed much earlier. The ancient stronghold had been there when the Doomani had arrived a few years earlier, and they promptly moved in. The Doomani were still puzzled as to how whoever had built this place had succeeded in doing so: it was constructed atop an extremely high peak with sheer cliffs surrounding it on all sides, save for a narrow pass.

The fortress itself was a vast triangular honeycomb of defenses, supported by three strong towers and surrounded by fifty-foot high walls. A frightening site for any attacker to behold, for sure. Of course, when the Doomani had arrived, they had modernized it.

Initialy found in disrepair, Corroborum now featured steel-reinforced concrete sections of the walls, and the towers had been heavily reinforced as well. Razor wire had been strung along the battlements, and Legionaries equipped with scoped battle rifles and crew-served weapons manned the defenses 24/7.

Of course, that was all that could be seen on the surface. deep within the fortress itself was an elevator that led all the way down inside the mountain to the stronghold's more modern part: a vast underground facility. It had taken quite a bit of ingenuity to get the captured AWACS aircraft into the base; luckily there was a large entrance to the main base at the foot of the hill, albeit an extremely well concealed one.

None the less, the Doomani hadn't bothered to mask the movement of the precious piece of machinery from the prying eyes of Scandavian spy satellites; in fact, one could argue that they had wanted them to see it. This was a result of the Proconsul's agenda, whatever that was.

Legatus Legionis Gaius Varus Magnus did not particularly care for politics himself. As a military man, he found them to cause nothing but trouble for men of his type. Politics often tended to interefere with duty, and that was not something he particularly liked. As a member of the Patrician class, however, he had knowledge of the subject; he had a slight idea of what was going on around him.

He knew he was being set up as soon as the initial orders came down from Arretium Nova to move the aircraft once more, this time using only the underground railway that spanned the colony, connecting all major military bases and cities, including his own...

It was either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on one's perspective, at the Imperial Army Base near the Duchy capital of Tryne, in the Duchy known as Tryne. The OOW was a mere 1st Lieutenant who was of the opinion (and a very correct one at that) that because he was a newbie to Imperial Special Forces he was being hazed by way of having the worst shift in the watch cycle. It garnered that rating because it was so damned boring and it only stopped being boring every once in a blue moon because God had a sadistic sense of humor that required military emergencies to happen at the worst possible time (when everybody but the newbies were asleep.) Thus, it befell to the newbie officer to have his phone ring and greet a somewhat tired/grumpy Duchess Sofie van der Berg. As a direct subordinate of the Empress and a holder of a seat in the House of Lords in her own right, she had the authority to give commands to military units in the execution of Her Imperial Highness' policy.

A single word was spoken by the Duchess, "Tercio," before she hung up. The code word was the go signal for Operation: Cutthroat, which was Joint Strategic Command's plan to destroy the ELINT aircraft and a lot of Doomie property at whatever base the Imperial aircraft was sent to. It was now the Lieutenant's responsibility to relay the message to the commander of the Imperial Special Forces in Tryne, which he did with utmost speed.

*****

"Atten-hut!" Barked the Sargeant Major of 1st Battalion, 10th Shinnyuusha Regiment as the battalion's CO entered the room, followed by the XO and a single man of obviously IAF origin whose lack of a unit patch was telling.

"As you were," said the Lt. Colonel in a mild voice that did nothing to hide the tension she was feeling. "Obviously the Bravo variant of Cutthroat was activated. While this operation remains a joint one, there will be no full-court press assault unless things go very badly wrong, in which case you all will be dead and a lot more people will be joining you shortly after. To review, a company from the 10th Ekteshâf will drop several hours before you do to confirm entry points and scout out enemy positions. They will also be this battalion's reserves in case the fecal matter impacts the rotary air impeller. Your jobs are to destroy the aircraft, take out any equipment that might be involved with the suspected dismantling and study of the aircraft, and eliminate any resistance along the way. If time permits, the Ekteshâf company can be called in to head hunt for the base's command team. Since you all have detailed briefing packets on this variation, I'm going to hand this over to Colonel van Gogh. Colonel?"

"Good evening, troopers. As your CO stated, I'm Colonel van Gogh of the Imperial Air Force. I'm to familiarize you with what aircraft you'll be deploying from, the strike package that will clear the way, and what help you can expect to call upon.

"Insertion will be a HALO jump from C-115 Fastriders. From what I gather, that's pretty standard fair for you guys. Which is good, because enough could potentially go wrong on this op for you all to be inserting using techniques that are unfamiliar. There will be four 115s in this op, one per company. The jump will be made a 50,000 feet, so you all will be making the insertion before the junk haulers get within range of backup systems.

"You will note that I said backup systems. I'm the strike element commander as well as overal commander for the IAF side of this mission. We're going to clear a corridor so that your aircraft make it to the drop point without undue losses. Unfortunately, we know they keep secondary systems on stand-bye in case the primaries go down, but we really don't know where those are so that means your pilots are going to have to rely on a great deal of skill and luck to avoid ambushes.

"Most of you are obviously curious about just what is going to clear a passage-way through Doomie air defenses without them suspecting an Imperial attack until its far too late," the lights went off and a project came on, showing what was obviously a very stealthy aircraft. "Meet the F-108 Revenant. At this point in time it is probably the stealthiest aircraft in existance and probably the most expensive 'fighter' to ever take to the skies. I have the good luck to command the only F-108 squadron in the IAF. We'll try out hardest to get everything, I want that aircraft out of Doomie hands as much as anybody. Lt. Colonel, I think that's everything. Floor is yours."

The commando nodded, "Alright, everybody, dismissed. Get everything prepped and on the trucks, then drive over to the air base, they'll be expecting you."