New Confederate States
01-08-2006, 16:07
OOC: Will be open to comments and reaction later. This will also be setting up for a planned RP I have where my country attempts to take several territories of the USA, by both subtle and unsubtle means.
-*-
The Colonial-era Mansion bathed in the cooling heat of the early evening as the sun began fading behind the hills of Georgia. Located several miles outside of Atlanta, the large, lavish building was set into a backdrop of shading trees, surrounded by a twelve-foot wall that had long succumbed to the prying fingers of the Ivy spread across the brickwork. A former plantation house, its cotton fields were now wild and unkempt to the back of the building, a sign of times long-forgotten, eras long past. But the dereliction of the house hid a sophisticated and tight security system. Intruding on the woodwork of the Mansion and the ivy-covered redbrick wall were numerous security cameras, forever rotating and scanning inside and outside the perimeter for trespassers. A dozen men in baseball caps, clad in thin shirts and jogging trousers against the summer heat, patrolled the grounds of the Mansion, their Aequatian-built G4 Rifles slung loosely over their shoulders or held lightly in both hands.
The only light in the windows of the house was on the first floor, were the reflections of a fireplace flickered lazily against the glass pane. The dim light cast conspiratorial shadows across the study, lighting the oak panelling and the wall-length book shelves, lightly caressing the faces of the five men that sat in comfortable, leather-back chairs. Serious faces addressed each other through the cigar smoke, and manipulative fingers clasped glasses of alcohol to their lips before resting them upon the chair arms.
"We have a crisis, Gentlemen," one man spoke. Donald O'Dwyer, Chairman of the Commonwealth Amalgamated Industries Corporation (CAI Corp), paused in his declaration to sip from his decanter of Port, before looking around the assembled faces of the meeting. O'Dwyer was the richest man in the Commonwealth, worth an estimated 926 Billion Confederate Dollars. CAI Corp was the largest single business in the Commonwealth, and held a near-monopoly over the domestic infrastructure industry and a large portion of real estate. One of the most powerful and influential men in the New Confederate States, O'Dwyer had effectively bank-rolled the Commonwealth's creation.
Sitting around the semi-circle surrounding the fire were the four other most powerful men in the Commonwealth. Greg O'Hanner was Minister of State for Economic Affairs, and Chairman of the Confederate Central Bank; the one man solely responsible for the economic affairs and policies of the whole country. Samuel Radcliffe, as well as being a board-member of CAI Corp, was Minister of State for Internal Security, a small department that would soon see a massive increase in activity. General Uriah Duke was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the highest-ranking military officer in the Commonwealth, and also controlled several Coca plantations in the far south of Georgia, using his military influence and his own personal wealth from this venture to keep them protected from outside interference. The fifth and final person was Grand Admiral Joel Liversworth, the most senior Navy Officer, a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and also Chairman of the Committee for External Security, the extra-national intelligence agency which did not exist.
It was General Duke who responded first to O’Dwyer. “I agree,” the portly, middle-aged naval officer concurred. He took a moment to sip his own neat Whisky, and looked around the other men with a face hardened by war and politics. “Washington is beginning to give us more trouble than he gives benefits to our position.”
O’Hanner nodded. “Definitely,” he said. “Washington has been good for getting people worked up for the Confederate cause, but he’s beginning to believe the propaganda we put out about him.”
Liversworth took a drink before adding his own opinion. “Gentlemen, we should seriously consider our alternatives before Washington forgets who orchestrated his little grab for power,” the Grand Admiral spoke.
The group fell into silence for a few moments. The fire crackled in the hearth, wisps of smoke rising lightly from where the wood had not quite caught, lengthening the time that passed.
Eventually, Radcliffe spoke up. The balding, fifty-something adjusted his spectacles. He looked like an overweight oaf, but behind the dark-rimmed glasses lay a mind as sharp as a razor. The Minister for Internal Security volunteered his concept. “I would advise a subtle method of control,” he said. “Overt action on our behalf would threaten our position and possibly damage the work we have succeeded with in using Washington.” He leaned forward to emphasise the point. “We place someone close to Washington to keep him under control, to pull the strings.”
O’Hanner shook his head. “No, Washington would never go with it,” he said. “The man is too stubborn for his own good, damn him.” The Economist sighed. “He seems a quiet character, but I think he truly believes the crap we’ve put out about him being a noble and revered man, the Saviour of the South.”
O’Dwyer nodded standing and pacing the edge of the semi-circle. “I’m inclined to agree with both of you,” the leader of the group said. “Washington is essential to our power-base, and yet he’s getting too big for his own shoes.” Donald paused, looking into the fire, the creeping flames casting a near-ethereal light upon his face. “So if we can’t have him as a leader…”
Radcliffe nodded, continuing where O’Dwyer had trailed off. “We make him a martyr.”
The room was quiet again for several moments. The O’Hanner shrugged, drinking his wine. “Hell,” he said once he had taken the glass from his lips. “It worked with Il Sung in North Korea, it worked with Stalin in Russia…”
“Hang on,” Duke interjected. “We’re talking about removing someone from power whom we’ve made a literal father-figure to the Commonwealth. If we don’t replace him with someone equally as well-known and revered, we’re going to have a lot of shit blown into the fan.”
Liversworth concurred with his fellow military officer. “Also, whoever we put in power is going to be tempted to use his own position to do what he wants.”
Donald thought for a moment, sighing. “So essentially, we’re looking for a corrupt, power-grabbing individual who is loved by the population and doesn’t mind being a complete tool to our will in return for complete security and comfort.”
O’Hanner cleared his throat. Everyone turned to look at the Minister of State for Economic Affairs. He was grinning. Taking his glass to his lips, he paused in sipping the fine liquid to clarify his point. “I think I know just the man.” He took the drink to his mouth and, once satiated, proceeded to outline his idea.
-*-
The Colonial-era Mansion bathed in the cooling heat of the early evening as the sun began fading behind the hills of Georgia. Located several miles outside of Atlanta, the large, lavish building was set into a backdrop of shading trees, surrounded by a twelve-foot wall that had long succumbed to the prying fingers of the Ivy spread across the brickwork. A former plantation house, its cotton fields were now wild and unkempt to the back of the building, a sign of times long-forgotten, eras long past. But the dereliction of the house hid a sophisticated and tight security system. Intruding on the woodwork of the Mansion and the ivy-covered redbrick wall were numerous security cameras, forever rotating and scanning inside and outside the perimeter for trespassers. A dozen men in baseball caps, clad in thin shirts and jogging trousers against the summer heat, patrolled the grounds of the Mansion, their Aequatian-built G4 Rifles slung loosely over their shoulders or held lightly in both hands.
The only light in the windows of the house was on the first floor, were the reflections of a fireplace flickered lazily against the glass pane. The dim light cast conspiratorial shadows across the study, lighting the oak panelling and the wall-length book shelves, lightly caressing the faces of the five men that sat in comfortable, leather-back chairs. Serious faces addressed each other through the cigar smoke, and manipulative fingers clasped glasses of alcohol to their lips before resting them upon the chair arms.
"We have a crisis, Gentlemen," one man spoke. Donald O'Dwyer, Chairman of the Commonwealth Amalgamated Industries Corporation (CAI Corp), paused in his declaration to sip from his decanter of Port, before looking around the assembled faces of the meeting. O'Dwyer was the richest man in the Commonwealth, worth an estimated 926 Billion Confederate Dollars. CAI Corp was the largest single business in the Commonwealth, and held a near-monopoly over the domestic infrastructure industry and a large portion of real estate. One of the most powerful and influential men in the New Confederate States, O'Dwyer had effectively bank-rolled the Commonwealth's creation.
Sitting around the semi-circle surrounding the fire were the four other most powerful men in the Commonwealth. Greg O'Hanner was Minister of State for Economic Affairs, and Chairman of the Confederate Central Bank; the one man solely responsible for the economic affairs and policies of the whole country. Samuel Radcliffe, as well as being a board-member of CAI Corp, was Minister of State for Internal Security, a small department that would soon see a massive increase in activity. General Uriah Duke was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the highest-ranking military officer in the Commonwealth, and also controlled several Coca plantations in the far south of Georgia, using his military influence and his own personal wealth from this venture to keep them protected from outside interference. The fifth and final person was Grand Admiral Joel Liversworth, the most senior Navy Officer, a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and also Chairman of the Committee for External Security, the extra-national intelligence agency which did not exist.
It was General Duke who responded first to O’Dwyer. “I agree,” the portly, middle-aged naval officer concurred. He took a moment to sip his own neat Whisky, and looked around the other men with a face hardened by war and politics. “Washington is beginning to give us more trouble than he gives benefits to our position.”
O’Hanner nodded. “Definitely,” he said. “Washington has been good for getting people worked up for the Confederate cause, but he’s beginning to believe the propaganda we put out about him.”
Liversworth took a drink before adding his own opinion. “Gentlemen, we should seriously consider our alternatives before Washington forgets who orchestrated his little grab for power,” the Grand Admiral spoke.
The group fell into silence for a few moments. The fire crackled in the hearth, wisps of smoke rising lightly from where the wood had not quite caught, lengthening the time that passed.
Eventually, Radcliffe spoke up. The balding, fifty-something adjusted his spectacles. He looked like an overweight oaf, but behind the dark-rimmed glasses lay a mind as sharp as a razor. The Minister for Internal Security volunteered his concept. “I would advise a subtle method of control,” he said. “Overt action on our behalf would threaten our position and possibly damage the work we have succeeded with in using Washington.” He leaned forward to emphasise the point. “We place someone close to Washington to keep him under control, to pull the strings.”
O’Hanner shook his head. “No, Washington would never go with it,” he said. “The man is too stubborn for his own good, damn him.” The Economist sighed. “He seems a quiet character, but I think he truly believes the crap we’ve put out about him being a noble and revered man, the Saviour of the South.”
O’Dwyer nodded standing and pacing the edge of the semi-circle. “I’m inclined to agree with both of you,” the leader of the group said. “Washington is essential to our power-base, and yet he’s getting too big for his own shoes.” Donald paused, looking into the fire, the creeping flames casting a near-ethereal light upon his face. “So if we can’t have him as a leader…”
Radcliffe nodded, continuing where O’Dwyer had trailed off. “We make him a martyr.”
The room was quiet again for several moments. The O’Hanner shrugged, drinking his wine. “Hell,” he said once he had taken the glass from his lips. “It worked with Il Sung in North Korea, it worked with Stalin in Russia…”
“Hang on,” Duke interjected. “We’re talking about removing someone from power whom we’ve made a literal father-figure to the Commonwealth. If we don’t replace him with someone equally as well-known and revered, we’re going to have a lot of shit blown into the fan.”
Liversworth concurred with his fellow military officer. “Also, whoever we put in power is going to be tempted to use his own position to do what he wants.”
Donald thought for a moment, sighing. “So essentially, we’re looking for a corrupt, power-grabbing individual who is loved by the population and doesn’t mind being a complete tool to our will in return for complete security and comfort.”
O’Hanner cleared his throat. Everyone turned to look at the Minister of State for Economic Affairs. He was grinning. Taking his glass to his lips, he paused in sipping the fine liquid to clarify his point. “I think I know just the man.” He took the drink to his mouth and, once satiated, proceeded to outline his idea.