NationStates Jolt Archive

Defence Summit: Semi-Closed [Attention Azazia]

OOC:This is a semi-open RP. It will primarily centre around me spending a crap load of money on Azazia commercial shipping, and how it will effect our countries relationship. That said, the premise for this RP will be the needing for my Northford to further strengthen it's trade, and the security within the GASN. For that reason, this is open to any GASN members who wish to RP a guest at the Conference/Summit, about anything that is relevant. If you want to do it, please message me first.

Also, I promised Azazia I'd get this up tonight, although it's 22:00 GMT, and I'm pretty tired. For that reason, I've cut short what I have to say. I'd appreciate it if no one else jumped in yet, with the exception of Azazia, who is welcome to reply to my letter. I will develop the story more, I just felt I had to get this up tonight, to keep my word to certain people. Drunken and Ros, I'll invite you in my post tomorrow, which should hopefully a bit longer.

Sunlight

Scores of beams, each individually streaming through the skylight, and defusing throughout the room. Were it not for the harsh smells of musk incense that perforated each orifice, it would have most likely been heaven.

“Bleep…Bleep…Bleep”

“Wake the fuck up”, came the next words he heard. Tearing into his visions of tranquillity of peace, the harsh reality of life, mixed with the monotones of his wife and the alarm clock.

“Morning love”, he replied, taking the world around him, quickly forgetting the images that flashed though previously.

“Morning. You’ve got a lot to do today Pete. Remember you forgot to reply to those foreigners? You can’t leave it forever, if you do, you’ll be out of job……and we don’t want that with a baby on the way, do we?”

Pete made animal noises. “No love, we don’t”, he started, “but the cabinet said I don’t need to reply until tonight, so it’s not a problem”.

“Ohk babes, you know best”.

===

Pete washed himself and proceeded to work, ensuring he took the longest route in order to give him plenty of time to wake up.

“Morning Guy’s” he said to the Commonwealth Guardsmen who were stationed outside his ministry.

“Morning Olivers. Good Weekend?” One of them asked, touching his hat.

“Brilliant, thanks Captain.” He replied hurriedly, walking through the door with his briefcase swinging quickly.

He proceeded to his office, and decided he better finish his correspondence to the GASN allies, lest his wife leave him.


Attn: Defence Minister, Commonwealth of Northford

Although the United Kingdom remains solidly outside of the affairs of the GASN, His Majesty’s Government would be willing to lend the Northford government the services of the Royal Navy for a limited period of time until such an escort force is established. While the details would of course need to be worked out much more meticulously, I do believe that the Royal Navy could spare a cruiser or two as well as the ships’ associated escorts. Perhaps in time, the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth of Northford may work together to protect the sea lanes of trade and communication as both parties recognise the sovereign right of nations to unmolested trade on the high seas.

Sean O’Donnell
Secretary of State for Defence
United Kingdom of Oceania


He took a clean sheet of Northfordian Government paper out of his desk draw, and proceeded to place it into his typewriter.

To: Sean O’Donnell
Secretary of State for Defence
United Kingdom of Oceania

From: Pete Olivers,
Secretary of Defence
Northford.

Greetings.friend.

The Commonwealth of Northford welcomes your arms of friendship, in these trying times, and immediately accepts you offer for a few cruisers. As for the Technical Details, we are relatively flexible, and are prepared to send you limited amounts of funds to cover your expenses.

As for the issue of further our relations, we also agree firmly agree with your arguments. It greatly warms our heart to know that there other nations, outside of the GASN, who also feel the same way we do about the open ocean.

With this in mind, and the fact that we would need to sort out many technical details before any collaboration of our naval forces, I hereby make the following offer:

Every year, Northford holds the annual Defence Summit. It is a forum, containing approximately 200 people, ranging from top scientists, Politicians, Generals, Admirals, Police Officers, Guests of our allies, and war hero’s. The agenda is generally mixed, although, as the Title says, the speeches, lectures, and personal meetings between certain people.

We, therefore, invite an Azazian group to the Conference. We care not for it’s composition, only that they are all people with a vested interest in developing our nation’s relationship for the better.

Sincerest Regards,

Northford.


Pete finished the letter, and put it in his “outbox”.

He had other letters to write before the day ended, although he wanted to get breakfast.

With the envelope disappearing into the internal mail system, he left his desk, put his suit jacket back on, and left the office.

He had an important appointment with a fry-up.

It turned out to be a long morning for Pete Olivers, Defence Minister of Northford. He had a meeting with the Head of Navies, James Tricker, about the new GASN defence force. While the meeting should have been a relatively short one, the news of the Aequatian support mean that they had to “jig” a number of patrols about, to ensure the news ships were best used, and not spending excess dock time in dock.

To make things worse, the Chancellor, David Fenlon was there…. A figure not liked by many. Were it not for the fact that they worked together, and were presenting a speech jointly at the upcoming Defence Summit, he would have been rather tempted to tell the man what he really thought of him.

On the whole, the meeting was a success. Fortunately for those involved, the Aequatians had been kind enough to provide a full listing of the ships they would be sending, so the meeting was lucky brief, only lasting a few hours.

Retiring back to his office, he decided to pour himself a cup of coffee, before starting to finish off the letters he started writing earlier on in the morning. Again, taking a clean sheet of paper out of his draw, and placing it in the typewriter:

To: Commonwealth of Rosdivan
CC: Ostia, leader of
From: Peter Olivers, Defence Secretary, Ministry of Defence, Northford.

Following our previous correspondences, we hereby invite your delegates to the Annual Northfordian Defence Summit, which is taking place this Tuesday (day after next).

To confirm your respective places on the agenda, please respond to this message promptly.

Regards,
Pete Olivers,
Northford.


========

Several Hundred miles away, withdrawn from the hustle and bustle of urban life, sat a bird, tweeting away. Cleaning its feathers in sand, it had no idea that its perch would soon be overlooking of one of the most important events.

It tweeted once more, and flew back into its nest. Looking around the Rural landscape it called home, it looked into the distance. Were it not for the fact its eyesight did not permit it to see well, it would be quite shocked at the events going on before it.

Port Hamptonshire, New Ireland Province, United Kingdom

There goes another one I reckon.

Aye. Peter McBride nodded in acquiescence, his wrinkled face and balding head displaying scars of accidents and wounds suffered to what many seemed many lifetimes ago. McBride had fought the Japanese in World War II, a few Koreans in missions unknown to the world and then served his years unloading freight from the docks. In every sense men like McBride had built the foundations for the economy that now thrived; and so it was with a sense of nostalgia he watched increasingly larger and larger container ships pass through the Hampton Strait. He had watched in all his years the flags of the vessels change; at first the flag of Great Britain had dominated, then the United States, and now nations such as Pacitalia, Hamptonshire, the Democratic Colonies. The most important, however, as far as McBride was concerned, were the container ships of Northford – a hitherto unknown nation. His grandson, the lanky lad sitting next to him in a rocking chair on their beachfront veranda, had just commented on a Northfordian freighter passing by only to see a another one.

In his stubby and arthritic hands McBride grasped the Port Hamptonshire Press, a paper now of international renown for sparking massive riots in the aftermath of its publishing of cartoons depicting the prophet Mohammed instructing his followers to become suicide bombers. Today, however, the paper had a much drier and, to many, a boring lead story: the docks would soon be seeing even more investment as Vickers Shipbuilding would be opening a construction facility for merchant container vessels, hidden within the story a small comment that Northford might be very much interested in just such a product. And so McBride held the paper and looked over at his grandson, a welder looking for a job.

Ministry of Defence, Imperium, New Britain, UK

As Secretary of State for Defence, Sean O’Donnell had the ear of both the politicians and the military establishment for both better and worse. Recently he had convinced the Prime Minister and the cabinet to offer support to Northford in its attempt to create a naval force dedicated to the protection of trade, especially that of GASN. Here, however, the United Kingdom faced a tough spot: supporting Northford and free trade but not declaring itself a party to GASN, a necessity born out of the desire to remain outside of its current disputes.

O’Donnell, as an MP, was also well aware of the potential of a lucrative deal being signed between an Oceanian company for supplying power stations to a nation allied with Northford through GASN. The deal, however, was contingent upon a stable supply of coal – particularly vulnerable to threats on the high seas and thus another impetus for the UK to assist Northford in the creation of the proposed escort force.

A knock on the door disturbed O’Donnell from his thoughts, Come in, he shouted so as to be heard through the heavy wooden door. He glanced up from the latest reports on New Albion to find his secretary, a woman in her fifties and not particularly attractive, but particularly efficient in her duties despite her advanced age.

A diplomatic letter, Mr. Secretary.

From whom?

One Pete Olivers, Secretary of Defence, Commonwealth of Northford.

The look of concern on O’Donnell’s face morphed quickly into that of welcome elation. Splendid, Alice, just splendid, he waved his arms emphatically ushering her into the room to deliver the envelope. She did just that, leaving the clean and crisp envelope at the edge of the Secretary’s desk. Thank you, Alice. Is there anything else at the moment?

No, sir, just a reminder of your meeting with Mr. Jefferson at 15:45. The secretary smiled ever so slightly and then quickly turned and walked back out of the office, closing the door quietly so as not to disturb O’Donnell who had by now withdrawn a ceremonial dagger presented to him by a native Azazian tribe. Taking the jewel encrusted handle he pushed the sharpened blade underneath the fold and quickly sliced the paper open, gingerly taking out the contents.

As he read the letter he pulled out a small pad of paper and jotted a few notes in an unreadable script that after several years only his secretary had managed to decipher. Very good, he muttered to himself. Instinctively he placed the end of the pen into his mouth, tasting the cold faux-marble finish and wondering who else should be invited. He wrote down a few more names and then neatly put the letter aside.

HMNB Philadelphia

It is a bit light, sir, but for the moment I think it should do. Captain Henry James Addison glanced away from the sleek and clean lines of a Royal Navy destroyer to the grey waterlogged clouds hanging just off the coast of the financial capital of the UK. Addison, a slender-faced man with black hair and brown eyes complemented by a large pointed nose and small lips, had been tapped by the Admiralty to command the first units of the Royal Navy that would assist Northford in building an escort force.

I should hope so, Captain. That some nations have decided to attack merchant shipping is most unhelpful. Regardless, the Royal Navy has been tasked with aiding in the defence of Northfordian and Rosdivan shipping, primarily through joint activity with this new-fangled GASN taskforce. William Bedford shrugged his shoulder, draped in a waterproofed long-length jacket, studded with the stripes and insignia befitting his rank, vice admiral.

Since the Admiralty had issued the orders, Bedford had been promoted owing to his long and distinguished service in the Royal Navy, principally commanding small rapid reaction squadrons in the Indian Ocean theatre. Now, he would command a squadron of ships designated to assist the Commonwealth of Northford in patrolling the seas. Eventually he would be given command of one or two cruisers and a squadron each of destroyers and frigates. He had selected Captain Addison to command the squadron of destroyers.

For the time being, the Admiralty would like you to set sail immediately while the frigates and cruisers are gathered here. Captain, you are to be the vanguard of the force and as such I am pleased to have been given the authority to confirm that you are now a Commodore in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. Bedford smiled and extended his hand to the young captain, now commodore. The approval came only at the last moment, unfortunately, so the formal ceremony will be held upon our return but I have seen fit to ship replacement uniforms to your flagship and to ensure that you will be paid as a commodore throughout the duration of this operation.

Addison shook Bedford’s outstretched hand, why thank you, sir. This is a most distinct privilege and honour and I shall do my best to carry out our mission until the arrival of the remainder of the fleet.

The grip slackened and the hands fell apart, Bedford placing his free hand on the young man’s shoulder. I expect you shall, Commodore. We are all, of course, expected to do our duty for Crown and Country and so I send you off to Northford. Godspeed, Commodore Addison.

In the grey misty distance, the first destroyer had cast off its line and was making its way out of the massive protected harbour containing Addison’s destroyer squadron of six ships. Attached to the group were two auxiliaries: a fuel ship and an ammunition ship. Within the hour the eight ships of the Royal Navy would be making best speed towards Northford where they hoped to arrive just ahead of the start of the conference – a visible sign of the UK’s commitment to Northford.

To: Peter Olivers, Defence Secretary, Ministry of Defence, Northford
From: Minister of Defense Michael O'Neill

We thank you for the invitation to the defense summit. We will be sending two pilots, Commander John Andrews and Lieutenant Smith Adams, by civilian transport. Their experiences bombing the Blackhelm merchant fleet should prove useful in discussing how best to defend GASN convoys.

Sincerely,

Michael O'Neill, Minister of Defense

Northford Herald
By Murray Bruce, Parliamentary Correspondent
SECRETS

Standing over the parliamentary precipice today, PM Brooks made an announcement that broke with tradition: The Annual Northfordian Defence Summit, an ancient tradition that has become modern practise, will be held in secret this year, at an undisclosed location. Speaking to members of the Lower House, he said:

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the house. I am hereto announce that the annual Defence Summit this year will be held in secret, at an undisclosed location, outside major cities. I will disclose reasons for this, although it is fair to say that there are security concerns, amongst other things, which have caused a change of plans.

I would also like to take this opportunity to welcome our friends from abroad, who will be joining us for this very special conference. I am pleased to announce that we will be welcoming Commander John Andrews and Lieutenant Smith Adams from the Commonwealth of Rosdivan, and an Azazian Delegation. They will be guest speakers at this esteemed meeting, and will be talking about issues that are relevant to the current world in which we live.

In this address, I also wish to commend a number of Northfordian sailors, who, only this week, saved an overboard man. It is because of their bravery, and dedication to service, that makes me proud to be Northfordian Today”
To read our in depth critic review of this new announcement, turn to page 12, where Ali Razor will be providing his unique insight into this situation.



======================================================

“Hmm”, started a dark burly man, “guess I’ll read that bit later”.

He stood up, getting of his leather recliner, and walking to the help desk, this thick felt overcoat hanging loosely at his sides.

“Can I help you sir?” he asked, taking stock of the man in front of him, who was, by all accounts, out of his element. He was wearing a well fitting business suit, most likely bespoke in manufacture, and was speaking with an accent that could only have been groomed at the illustrious Branning institute, Northford’s prime Public School.

“Yes…I’m here to meet this man”, he said, passing him a slip of paper, with a name written down upon it.

“Ah, Rear Admiral Lockheed. Can I ask what your business here is? This is a military facility, and you need ID to get past this check point” Said the dark man, aware that this situation could turn into something rather unsavoury. In an effort to ensure his presence was felt, he decided to adjust his belt, making sure his two folded MP 9 submachine guns could be seen.

“Here we go. Special Agent Berks. Assigned to the Department of Defence, and in the Subministry of Acquisitions and Acquirements.” He stated flatly, passing over an Identity Card to the guard.

“That seems….”, started the guard

“…Quite acceptable, yes?” finished Berks.

“Umm…yes. Would you like me to escort you to him, or would you like to wait here while I call for a porter?” the guard could tell that this wasn’t false. His sheer force of personality was overwhelming. While he was saying this, he was quietly reaching for the ‘assistance’ button under his desk. While he was prepared to walk this man over to his office, he wanted to have his ‘friends’ nearby.

“I’ll wait here thanks. I don’t want the ‘assistance’ getting worried”, he replied, winking.

An uneasy silence was brokered until the ‘assistance arrived’. It consisted of two Legionnaire S-15’s and one Stryker fighting vehicle, full of troops.
“Evening Sir”, gestured a Marine, saluting. He wasn’t looking immediately threatening, although the BDU’s he was wearing made it clear he wasn’t a simple chauffeur.

“Evening”, replied the guard, “we have someone who wants to see the Rear Admiral. His name is Special Agent Berks.”, he casually waved his arm towards the guest, “he seems to wish to be escorted to him”

The Marine nodded.

“I’ll let you take him your transport, and we’ll just stick tight behind in case you need us”, he stated, “after all, there’s no need for us unless there’s a problem”

“Sounds Great”

=====================================================

After a rather obscure drive around the base, the four vehicles arrived outside the quarters of the rear admiral. Unlike many other buildings in the complex, it had windows that were of an appreciable size, and had a rather well manicured front lawn, complete with flowerbeds and ornamental trees. It wasn’t that the rest of the Base lived in destitute poverty, it was just that the Admiral, being somewhat higher in rank, had certain privileges: a nice front garden being one of them.

Knock, Knock

The Marine was tapping on the door, each time successively louder, in an effort to rouse the Rear Admiral, who, by all accounts could be asleep.

That was not to be the case, however, as soon the door was opened by a man who’s first opinion would be “Educated”. Dressed in casual lounge suit, and wearing rather elaborate slippers, he gestured the party inside.

“Berks,” he said ecstatically, “how are you keeping son?”

The Agent happily extended his hand.

“Fantastic, thanks Sir. Are you keeping well? Is Delia still tending the lawns?” he replied, shaking.

“Oh, she certainly is. Just wait there, I’ll get her downstairs.” he paused momentarily, “DELIA, love, we have a visitor.” Rear Admiral Lockheed was now standing in the hallway, while the rest of the group was sitting inside.

While this was going on, the Marines in the APC slowly moved off, while four that were in the armoured vehicles stationed themselves outside. Only the oblivious guard and a lone marine were inside the house.

“So, tell me, what brings you here Sam? Last I heard you were busy twisting the arms of our internal suppliers, and taking out the corrupt buggers”, he paused before he cracked a joke, “Regulating the bullet makers not enough?”

Sam Berks laughed “Oh, no Sir. You know, it’s quite rewarding. Actually, I’m here about work.”

Admiral Lockheed’s wife walked in
“Hello Sam”, she said, “George, would you like me to get you both a drink? It’s quite late.”

Admiral George Lockheed smiled at his wife “That’s a wonderful idea love. What would you like, Sam?"

Agent Berks thought for a moment. “I’ll just have tea please, Mrs Lockheed….”

She interjected quickly “NNS standard still?”
Berks smiled. “Always.”

========================================================

After tea was served, and they caught up on old times, the two men got down to business.

“So, Sam, do tell me, what’s this business thing you want to talk to me about?” questioned the Admiral. Friendly as he was towards this old friend, he needed to know, and decided now was the time to being it up.
Agent Sam Berks looked at his friend, and started “I know you’re aware of the Annual Business conference, and what’s been happening this year.”
“…Yes” replied Lockheed, slowly.

“… And do you know why this is happening? Pressed Berks.

“…No…security has been mentioned, although no one has yet given the military any answers. Is that what it’s about?”, questioned Lockheed. Although it was late at night, he was giving Berks his full attention.

Berks started to speak, getting a few sheets of paper out of his briefcase, which had, thus-far, been firmly attached to his hands. “In part. Simply put, we have an Azazian Delegation coming…”

“Yes”, cut Lockheed.

“…And do you have any knowledge of why we are entertaining this crowd of people?”. The conversation was reaching quite a fast pace.
“No”.

“Well, I think it’s time I showed you this”, stated Berks, pulling out a letter, “this was attached to an order we made to the Azazian Shipwrights, Vickers, and what was prompted their invite. Just so you know, it’s an internal memo, that should never have left Northford.”

Dearest Ojali,

How goes thing's within the police force? It has been a considerable time since our last correspondance, I hope any changes to your lifestyle and wellbeing are for the positive....

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm bothering to write this, considering we're meeting soon, for the Annual Northfordian Defence Convention in two weeks time, but I thought I'd get in touch before hand.

You see, I'm due to make a speach concerning the expansion of Northfordian shipping abroad, and could appreciate any input you give me, remembering that you are presently chairing a security review of the Inland waterway's network.

I've also heard through the press that you've been purchasing ships from an international builder. Could you perhaps comment on your experiances dealing with them? I'd appreciate any interlectual quotes you could provide me with.

Anyway, friend, I must depart. I must leave for a tour of some new docking equipment, and I'm afraid it can't wait.

Regards,

Chambers.

Rear Admiral Lockheed slowly read the letter.

“Well, it looks like they’re here to sell us stuff, doesn’t it?” Claimed the Admiral, “is that what you want me for?”

“That was direct” stated Berks, smiling.

“Well, I’d don’t mind giving your people a hand down at this conference. I was hoping to ask a friend of mine who was recently promoted if I could use his Corvette as a fishing platform for next week, but I suppose I could make a detour.”

With that, Rear Admiral Lockheed’s wife walked back into the room. Slowly surveying the mood of the two men, she offered them both a biscuit.

Lockheed smiled.

“No thank dear. Actually, I need to ready my things as I’m taking a trip.” He said, looking at her sad face, “don’t worry though, it’s nothing dangerous. My brain is just needed in a meeting. Would you mind helping me sort out my things?”

Mrs Lockheed looked a little disillusioned. “No of course not dear.” She replied, walking out of the room. With that, the Admiral Stood up. Berks followed his lead.

This time it was Lockheed whose turn it was to talk.

“The meeting is in two day’s, correct?”, he asked rhetorically, “I’ll meet you in Red Bridge, at the usual place, then you can take me to where we’re going. As for now, I need to sort my stuff out, and get some sleep.”

He continued. “I’m sorry this hasn’t been as long as you wanted Sam, but I’m not the young man who taught you your trade. I can’t keep on doing this.”

Gesturing to the Guard who was sitting in the room all the time, minding his own business, “Sir, would you mind escorting Agent Berks to our Guest House. I daresay he would like some rest”.

With that, Berks left.

It certainly was going to be an interesting few days…

“Darkness. Pervading every niche of life, it slowly spread it’s blinding prowess to Northford. Contrasting the light, who’s illuminating ability gave strength and courage to everyone soul around, giving each sword it’s blade, each arrow it’s head, each shield it’s metal. When these two forces met, the only victor was Satan himself.”

“That’s some pretty melodramatic shit you’re reading there Sir.”

“Thanks you Lieutenant. If you wouldn’t mind, please keep your nose out of business that doesn’t concern you. We’ve got a short little job to do, and I intend to do it well. That means I will not suffer your criticism for my literary tastes. Please report below deck, and man your station.”

The Lieutenant went below deck, leaving the captain of the small ship on the bridge to his own business.

“Well, I guess this is it”, thought the captain silently, as the GPS console below him pinged in a uniquely noticeable tone.

He inserted his finger into his ear, and pressed a small button on a device that resembled a hearing aid.

“Testing, 1-2-3”, he started.

“This is Captain Chambers. We have reached our co-ordinates, and are to wait here for the Azazian convoy along with our sisters, the NNS Jovial and the NNS Jocular, as per our mission specifications. We are now operating on ‘Code Crimson’, so please take appropriate stations. We’re not sure what to expect yet, so don’t be alarmed if something big shows up. Chambers out”

With that, the Captain pressed the object in his ear again, sat down into his chair, and went back to his book. The NNS Joseph, a Northfodian Pickering Class Corvette was waiting, with it's secondary anchors lowered.

“Gotta love Bluetooth” he mused, finding his page.


OOC: The Pickering, although it is Northfordian, was designed and manufactured by Sarzonia; and brought from the PIW. Link: http://s14.invisionfree.com/PIW/index.php?showtopic=13

Gracefully and easily, a sharp bow pierced through a gentle swell on the otherwise smooth ocean. The HMS Raleigh was the latest destroyer in the Royal Navy, this one procured from Vickers as the latest anti-air destroyer – her wave-piercing bow designed to give the dual-purpose flak batteries a smoother operating platform. From the open bridge, Henry James Addison licked his dry lips, wiping with his fingers the sea spray from his dark sunglasses, necessary to cut out the glare from the sun-drenched sea. He glanced to port and starboard, finding the other leading elements of the destroyer squadron, HMS Caldwell and Jones, both older vessels that, while increasingly obsolescent, still packed a punch of significance for convoy duty.

Commodore, a crisp voice called out from the hatchway leading into the bridge, we are now five kilometers from Northfordian territorial waters.

Addison nodded solemnly, thank you, lieutenant, he responded quietly watching with quiet fascination the flapping of the white naval ensign of the Royal Navy, derived from its British forefather. The freshly minted Commodore ran a hand quickly through his hair before stepping through the hatchway himself and finding a spacious, but thinly crewed bridge – a crew thinned neither by attrition nor by dereliction but rather high automation. Necessary to reduce manning costs on what was envisioned as an expendable warship. A thought Addison chose not to dwell upon.

Commodore on deck, a young ensign shouted, snapping the bridge crew to attention and forcing Addison to wave his hand to dismiss the protocol.

Captain, he inquired of the ship’s commanding officer, have we the frequency for contacting the lead Northfordian ship?

Indeed, sir.

Very well, Addison replied, picking up a phone hardwired into the ship’s secure radio communications network. Put me through, he added, watching the Royal Navy crew come to life. It was a rare occurrence for the United Kingdom to dispatch warships to friendly powers and allies, and as such Addison had every intention of doing everything in the best possible fashion.

This is Commodore Henry James Addison, commanding officer Royal Navy Taskforce Assero, requesting permission to enter the territorial waters of the Commonwealth of Northford.

As he awaited reply, the surface search radar of the Raleigh registered and identified the Northfordian corvettes, each about ¼ the size of Addison’s flagship. Within minutes the Royal Navy would be crossing the line into foreign waters and Addison could not wait until he found the corvettes on the horizon, for things would become a great deal simpler then.

"It is known a man with a long arm will go far in life, for it is thought that the reach it lends him will give not only a physical advantage, but also the ability to reach up to the sky, and towards the gods. Tending his animals, this makes him a very rich man"

...Bleep....

...Bleep...

Startling Captain Chambers, he put his book down, and looked over at the communications screen.

Pressing the 'Hear Button', he strained his ears to listen to the incoming message. Suprising himself, it seemed the Azazian Delegation who was waiting for spoke perfectly, with an accent showing both education, and experiance at dealing with foreign countries.

"This is Commodore Henry James Addison, commanding officer Royal Navy Taskforce Assero, requesting permission to enter the territorial waters of the Commonwealth of Northford."

Thinking quickly, Chambers decided to do things properly.

"Gentlemen", he called via the ships tannoy system that was wired in to thge Bluetooth earpiece he wore,"All men to their Stations, Code Crimson", with Code Crimson being the Northfordian Naval Code for hospitality stations.

After a short pause, of about 40 seconds, he replied the the Azazian ship, acutely conscious that he had kept them waiting.

"Ensign, patch my Ear through to the ships."

"Will do Sir", replied the young ensign,"Sir, you're live".

"Good Day Commodore Addison, this is Captain Chambers, Captain of the NNS Joseph, and leader of Taskforce Az-Welcome. Permission to enter Northfordian Territorial Waters is hereby Granted. Please arrive at our co-ordinates and we will provide close escort, and send you the positions of our defensive minefields. It would not look good for our first meeting, if one of your countries ships fell afoul of some 20 year old mines."

Chambers pressed the small Button on his ear again, cutting off the transmission.

"Ensign, connect me with the Captains of the Jovial and the Jocular."

He got a slight nod, from the ensign at the communications table, which indicated he was connected.

"Captains, we have the Azazian Delegation within range. Move to Code Crimson if you would, and get into Delta-'Scort"

He cut them off.

"Gentlemen", he said to those on the Bridge with him,"We most likely have a few moments before we are greet our new friends. I suggest we take a brief restbite, and change into our dress uniforms."