NationStates Jolt Archive

Another summer rain poured down over the small town of Jamesville, causing most of the non-essential personnel to stay indoors. All the same, dozens of workers continued to unload crates from skiffs bringing in supplies and hardware from the freighter out in deeper water. Jamesville Bay was a bay in name only, and the town relied on shallow-draft ferries to transport cargo from container ships to the settlement. The magistrate had promised that once the colony got off its feet an artificial harbor would be built, allowing for deep-water vessels to come closer to the shore. It was painfully clear to the dockworkers, though, that colonial self-sufficiency and the relative convenience it would bring was still a long way off. The colony was still young, with close to eighty percent of the town still comprised of prefabricated shelters; notable exceptions being the magistrate’s office and residence and the Royal Auxiliary. The entire colony had about two thousand permanent residents so far, with roughly three-quarters clustered in the town and the remainder spread out through the countryside on isolated ranches.

Jamesville was situated on a natural inlet on the west coast of the northernmost island off of Terra Recedentia’s west coast. Needless to say, Jamesville was isolated, even by the standards of a mostly empty and underdeveloped continent. The rest of the island was covered in sweeping grassland, with a few sparse forests scattered about. All in all, the island resembled most in geography the Great Plains of North America or the Savannah of Africa, though the climate was much wetter than either.

The Libertarian Society of Malkyer, the organization which funded and recruited for the colony, had been able to secure for Jamesville almost total autonomy from the Imperial Commonwealth. The Ministry of Colonial Affairs had insisted upon the colony maintaining a Royal Auxiliary Office and a barracks facility sufficient for one battalion of Royal Marines; the LSM, fearful that resistance would cause the Ministry to simply declare Jamesville a Crown Colony, had accepted the conditions. The RAO was completed, and the barracks was being constructed by a team of Army Engineers. Both facilities were paid for by His Majesty’s Government, but were to be maintained at Jamesville’s expense as soon as the colony was financially able.

Kevin Brown thumbed through a stack of papers on his desk, listening absent-mindedly to the rain clattering against the window of his office. As Magistrate, he had the fortune of having an actual building for his office and home rather than a prefab shelter; in addition, he was the colony’s de facto leader until such time as it was deemed necessary to establish a permanent colonial government. Setting the papers down, he opened a mini-fridge by his desk and pulled out a Coca-Cola. He smiled to himself, thinking how, finally, he and people like him were finally free of the absurd monarchy in Malkyer. It wasn’t that he hated Malkyer, no, he loved his country and was sad to leave it. But it got frustrating sometimes living in a place where no one seemed to realize that you couldn’t be guaranteed freedom if your country’s sole criteria for leadership consisted of hereditary bloodlines. If the monarchy continued to mess things up like it was doing both domestically and in the colonies, Jamesville could expect to see a large amount of immigration, particularly that sponsored by the Libertarian Party of Malkyer, which shared the LSM’s anti-monarchy views.

*****

Alan Torrey looked on quietly as two vaqueros set up another post for the barbed-wire fence that marked the edge of the Torrey Estate a few dozen kilometers from Jamesville. Stephen Torrey had one of the largest private plots of land in the colony, and the money to hire enough people to man it. Working as a vaquero for the Torrey family was seen as a lucky break in Jamesville. They got paid a decent wage, close to forty crowns a day. While meager compared to the average salary in the Imperial Commonwealth, it was significantly higher than most in Jamesville. An addition bonus was that the work wasn’t nearly as demanding as that of a dockworker, and the food was better too. Alan grinned as he joked with the two vaqueros, and the three set out moving along a low rise in the grassland, trailing wire behind them. The posts had been set up the previous day, and all that was needed now was to fix those that had been knocked over by animals, and attach the wire. Old Man Torrey was bringing in cattle in a few days, and needed his grassland to be ready. Like many other ranches in the Jamesville colony, the Torrey family’s plot was large in size but not in scale. Less than a quarter of the land was ready for use, and over half of it was set aside to be untouched for several years anyway.

At the next post, Alan dismounted his horse and helped one of the vaqueros with the wire. They’d been rotating like that all afternoon; two working and one keeping watch on horseback. All three carried high-powered hunting rifles, and Alan kept a .45 caliber pistol as well. As far as everyone knew there were no hostile natives on the island, or any natives at all for that matter, but it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.

From the forest-shrouded hills north of Jamesville, brown eyes peered through the greens and browns of a forest heretofore largely untouched by modern industry. Yet the lack of large metropolises and conurbations did not denote the absence of man, for in truth man had lived on these islands for thousands of year before the Imperial Commonwealth had been a dream in the eyes of politicians. The few who now stood amongst the trees watched in silence, observing the oddities moving to and fro from the beaches to even larger oddities in the waters.

One of the men in the group felt the rain drip down from the canopy over his head, making his cool shiny staff slick in his hands. Tipped with a heavy almost pyramidal arrow, the staff had several viciously serrated blades arranged along its upper lengths while below this were the fiber strips that allowed the individual to hold onto his staff. Around his bare beck he wore a lightweight medallion that would have reflected the golden rays of the sun had the clouds not interrupted their hunting party. He leaned his lightweight staff alongside the trunk of a nearby tree, whose roots were knotted near the surface and allowed for natural seats, and when covered in the soft grasses endemic to the region the knots became comfortable seats at that.

More Tonkio? he asked his compatriots, the language peculiar and unlike anything ever heard by the West – soft and rolling with occasional guttural pauses.

No, a much older one replied, his age highlighted by the numerous medallions and thinning hair. Their ships are much smaller and their last ships left several tides ago, and we are still two tides away from their return.

The first man, the younger, wrapped his callused fingers around the medallion, a recent award from the village he lived with for his service in harvesting the easily moldable metal for the Tonkio, who had for dozens of cycles traded with him and his people for the metal – in exchange for the lightweight metals that the villagers forged into these staffs. So what shall we do, he asked the older man.

We shall wait. We shall wait.

Kevin Brown yawned slightly; it had been a long night, and was of yet still not finished. He looked at the clock on his desk, which read 3:15AM, local time. Rubbing his eyes, he looked back across his desk at the two men seated in front of him. Both men looked as tired as Brown felt, but the man to his right concealed it better. Brown had both men's dossiers in front of him, open to points of interest. Post-it notes marked other areas of possibly important information.

"Gentlemen, I suppose it's about time to wrap everything up? I know I'm exhausted, and I imagine both of you are as well. Captain Burke, everything is ready from a logistical standpoint?"

Michael Burke, the second-in-command of the Jamesville Colonial Regulars, nodded. The JCR were little more than a glorified police unit; they numbered only thirty-three men including staff officers. Officially they were the military arm of the Libertarian Society in Jamesville, and were armed as such with modern military-grade weapons. In practice, however, the JCR served in a capacity of a mounted attachment to the colonial police force, patrolling the countryside and roads between ranches and the town.

The third man in the room was Dr. Douglas Stanhope, a linguist from the Royal University at Canberra, who had come to Jamesville seeking a chance to meet the natives of Terra and study their languages; the wealth of knowledge provided by a body of languages previously unheard of in modern society could not be overemphasized.

Together, Burke and Stanhope would lead an expedition of twenty men into the hinterland, with the objectives of bushwhacking trials for later settlers to follow, mapping the island close-up (satellites already had the gist of it, but a few details were missing), and finally, yet most importantly, contact and attempt to communicate with the native people of the island. Satellite recon had shown evidence of primitive civilizations on the island, and the Royal Auxiliary Office had suggested the colony make contact. Not seeing and reasonable objection, and not wanting to antagonize the Crown, the Magistrate had agreed. And so the three men remained awake early into the morning, getting everything ready.

The expedition would depart in two days, at daybreak.

"Just got off the horn with the Auxiliary Office," Burke said as he sat down on a tree root protruding from the ground. The roots made comfortable seats, covered as they were in soft grass. Around the militia captain, a dozen men sat in a rough circle, munching on various canned food items from their packs. The rain had abated for the past day and a half, and with the sun high overhead the ground was dry, but the air cool. Dr. Stanhope rose from his seat to get more water from a large jug.

"Well, what'd they have to say?"

"You'll never guess. Out of the goodness of their hearts, His Majesty's Government is paying for an airfield for the colony."

One of the other men, a trooper in the JCR like Burke, grunted. "Of course they're shelling out the crowns for it. It's so they can move equipment faster once the Crown decides to revoke our autonomy."

Burke frowned. "Howard, don't be such a damn cynic. Be optimistic for once."

Stanhope chuckled softly, and began sifting through a tin of small foil pouches. Selecting one, he tore it open and sniffed tentatively. Shrugging, he pour the contents into his water bottle, closed the lid, and shook vigorously. Taking a sip, he nodded his head slowly. "The fruit punch isn't bad." The others laughed. Returning to the circle, he looked to Burke. "Captain, where are Luis and the others?"

Burke leaned back against a tree trunk before answering. Stanhope was smart, and his status as a linguist made his importance to the mission critical, but he often failed to pay attention to the mundane aspects of camp life. "Luis and his squad are in the forest, looking for a suitable trail next to that waterfall we saw earlier. Remember, this is a bushwhacking expedition as well, and not just--" He was interrupted by a rustling behind him. Any of his men would have made their presence known before appearing in camp, so Burke's military training took over and he spun 'round quickly, drawing his pistol to the sound. In front of him was Luis, looking disheveled and dirty, as if he'd run through the forest without caring to conceal his path. On either side stood men, barechested and carrying staffs that looked to be made of a lightweight metal. Medallions shone in the sun. Burke's peripheal vision showed that more natives were coming out of the trees to the sides, which meant the entire camp was probably surrounded. The click of a round being chambered into a G36 told him that at least one of his men had gotten to their rifles. Taking another look at the broad arrowhead and wicked-looking spikes on the metal staff, Burke decided it wasn't worth it.

"Guns down, boys," he said calmly, setting his pistol down and raising his hands above his head. "Okay, my good Doctor. You're the linguist; talk to them."

Douglas Stanhope looked at Burke incredulously, but his expression did him no good as the other man's back was turned. Shaking his head, he looked at the native that seemed to be in charge. "Um, hello?"

Jamesville had grown in the past weeks, and was now a true city. Most of the prefabricated buildings were replaced by permanent structures, at least along the shore and in the city center. The outskirts were still in the developing stage, of course. Extended and improved docks projected into the bay. Large freighters still couldn't come directly to the dockyard, but the city no longer relied on shallow-keeled skiffs to ferry in supplies. The sky was a cold iron grey, signalling the possibility of another afternoon rain. Jamesville Colonial Mounted Police patrolled the streets of the city, though crime was low. Contrary to their name, the JCMP did not always deploy on horseback. Patrolling frontier regions often required travelling on horseback and in second-hand Land Rovers. In the city proper, and in the couple of small towns that had sprung up inland, though, the JCMP was a capable force on foot.

Just outside of town, the Coetzee Motor Works factory loomed over the skyline. The CMW plant was easily the largest structure in use in the colony; the recent encounters with the native population had made the JCMP paranoid enough to order several armored cars for patrols in isolated areas. More so than that was a growing market for private vehicles, and as Jamesville was a colony settled and run by libertarians, the market's desires were quickly catered too. CMW, under license, built most automobiles that one would find back in the Imperial Commonwealth, though they understandably had fewer luxury options.

All things considered, the Jamesville Free State was growing rapidly. The Magistrate was seeking approval from the Colonial Assembly to send diplomatic staff to the Khailfah al-Musilmeen's colonies on Terra. Contact with the natives had excited Jamesville's merchants, along with other trade opportunities. None predicted the coming storm...

OOC: Jjust a quick post to keep up with the colony's development. Azazia, if you're too busy to handle the natives I'll do it, just let me know.

"Regiment, ten-HUT!" Soldiers snapped to attention, standing in tight formation. Several officers and the regimental sergeant major stood in front of the assembled troopers. With them was Magistrate Brown, on hand to review the newly-formed 1st Jamesville Rifles, and to look good for the newspapers. Following the RSM's command, lower officers repeated it.

"Battalion!" "Company! Present arms!" There was a flurry of activity as rifles were presented in perfect military drill.

Colonel Nathaniel Winters shifted his attention momentarily to his right. "Good to have you back, Top."

Next to him, RSM Jacob Liebgott nodded. Liebgott had been Winters' company First Sergeant during the Malkyeri Civil War, and the two had fought together in some of the worst battles, around the Columbia River. In a serious tone, he said, "Had to make sure someone was around who knew what they were doing."

Winters smiled thinly. "Tied my own boots once last week, you know."

Trumpets sounded, and Brown followed Winters and Liebgott toward one of the formations of soldiers. "Why trumpets, Colonel?"

"Soldiers in garrison are still soldiers, Magistrate. Trumpets remind them of that. Would you prefer shouted orders? Here, 'D' Company. Ask one to turn out their gear, if you'd like."

Brown nodded. Like all Malkyeri citizens, he'd gone through the year of military service, but had specialized in communications rather than combat. He had never understood the romanticism of career soldiers like Winters. He selected one soldier, an obvious long-service private who had to have been pushing thirty. The soldier dropped down to his knees, swinging his pack off in the process. The first thing out was a field blanket. Laying that down, he spread it out and began emptying the contents of his pack. Extra socks, skivvies, mess kit consisting of a stainless steel cup, fork, spoon, and knife. It also contained beverage and soup powders, and iodine for purifying water. Gas mask, first aid kit, entrenching tool, and a box of fifty 7x55mm shells for his rifle. Winters interrupted.

"He'd expect to be issued special gear in a possible nuclear or biological environment, but you can see he's prepared for any conventional or low-level chemical attack."

The private's belt was next. More clips of ammunition, a bayonet, and a nine-inch combat knife filled the loops. Pockets were filled with grenades and other miscellanous combat items. Brown noticed a small pouch on the soldier's mesh bandolier, in between a grenade and a small penkife. Pointing, he asked, "What's in there?"

"His private possessions. Maybe all he owns in the world. You'll have to ask Private Wilson's permission to see it."

"No, that's all right. Thank you, Private." With that, the inspection was over and Wilson began re-organizing his things. As Brown and the Colonel walked away, the private exchanged a knowing glance with the RSM. Both were obviously glad that Brown hadn't selected Private Ivanov. Ivanov was a good kid, but he couldn't find his ass using both hands.

A few minutes later, inside the comfort of the air-conditioned and dry Regimental CP, Winters keyed a chart on the display screen for Brown to study. "You'll see, Magistrate, that the First is a combat-ready, brigade-sized force of light infantry. Unfortunately, given our limited resources, training and equipment aren't up to Royal Army standards; that said, I'd be comfortable putting the First against a similarly-equipped green regiment of His Majesty's troops in a training excercise. Luckily, the lack of equipment won't effect us too badly, as the natives don't have much in the way of modern weapons."

"What sort of equipment are you in need of, specifically?"

"Well, we're deficient in artillery and air support. Ideally, I'd like to have a squadron of helicopter gunships and a squadron of transport helicopters, and five or six batteries of artillery. 155mm self-propelled, if we're talking ideal. We're also low on vehicular transport, though CMW is fleshing out the numbers fairly steadily. I've also been toying with the idea of a mounted infantry battalion, since we're dependent on imports for fossil fuel."

"Right. I'll have a talk with Girerd Coetzee, perhaps we can work something out. I trust you're set to move out by week's end, Colonel?"

"That we are, Magistrate, that we are."

Jamesville Free State Colonial Regular Army
Blue indicates active unit
Orange indicates unit training in progress
Red indicates projected expansion

First Brigade (Jamesville Rifles)
-Staff: 200
-Combat Personnel: 3110
-Logistics Personnel: 1690
-Equipment:

Small Arms & Support Weapons: HK G36, FN SCAR, L85A2, M1911, L110A1 'Minimi', L7A2 General Purpose Machine Gun, M82 .50 calibre sniper rifle, L115A1 Long Range Rifle, L16 81mm mortar, 'Carl Gustav' 82mm recoiless rifle.
Armored vehicles: 14x Coet Medium Tanks*, 14x Stingray Light Tanks, 20x M2A3 Bradley IFVs.
Motorized Transport: 200x Land Rover Defenders.
Aviation assests: 6x AH2 Rooivalk, 6x AH-64 Apache, 6x Mi-24 Hind, 9x UH-60 Blackhawks, 9x CH-47 Chinooks.
Artillery: 6 batteries of 155mm self-propelled artillery.


Organized into 3 combat mechanized infantry battalions, 1 aviation battalion, 1 headquarters company, 1 logistics battalion, 1 signals company, and 1 engineers company. Currently stationed near Jamesville, though plans are made to establish a permenant military base along the southern coast of the island.

Second Brigade (Jamesville Trading Company Security Attachment)
-Staff: 36
-Combat Personnel: 227
-Logistics Personnel: 149

The Second Brigade is designed with the mission of training security forces for the Jamesville Trading Company, and assisting the company in maintaining security both in warehouses and dockyards in the Free State, and onboard ships travelling around Terra. Potentially hostile natives, as well as reports of pirate activity in the eastern seas of the continent, made the JTC realize that a permenant and well-trained security force would be a beneficial long-term investment. The Second Brigade assists the JTC with the task of security, in exchange for the JTC providing weapons and equipment to the Free State Army at a lower-than-market cost.

*Essentially a reproduced and modernized variant of the German-designed TAM. Other armored vehicles and aircraft are built with assumed license from the respective companies, as no one owns said companies in NS.

OOC: This a reference post, for me to keep track of the Free State military. Updates will be added here as necessary.