NationStates Jolt Archive

Mikhail wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with his gloves, letting out an exhausted sigh as he loaded the last crate of vegetables onto the back of his aging GAZ-51. By now the once dark blue paint had become a pale white from weeks sitting in the sun and rain, pockmarked by rust and peeling remnants of the old coat. However, it was a hardy vehicle, and it had given him little trouble, which was reason enough to keep it. Flipping up and securing the wooden rear gate, he removed his worn work gloves and tucked them in his overalls with a smile; this harvest would bring him a hefty sum of Czalkas, enough to pay off the new Volga sitting in their makeshift garage. He hoped.

His wife startled him from his reverie, leaning out of the front doorway of their small stone cottage, waving her callused hands from him to come inside for dinner. Without hesitation, he turned around and made his way up to their home.

"How're you, my love?" His thick mustache curved upwards as he smiled heartily and kissed her cheek upon entering. "Nothing to complain about. Oh, by the way, Nikolai called." Mikhail ran a hand through his matted hair before dousing his hands with warm, soapy water in the basin, washing the grime that had collected on his hands down the drain. "What about? Couldn't he have just walked up here?" His wife shook her head and took the boiling pot of soup off of the stove and turned the knob to 'off'. "No, it was urgent he said. Sounded like he was busy with something."

With that, he looked down for a moment, then dried his hands on his overalls before walking over to the rotary phone on a hutch by the wall. His fingers turned the dial until he had the correct number and waited for his friend to pick up.

"Hello?" An anxious voice was on the other end. "Nikolai, it's Mikhail. What is it?" Nikolai was silent for a moment. "Just turn on the news, you'll never believe this."

Click.

"What was that all about?" Mikhail just scratched his head and shrugged, then walked over to the TV set, turning it on and flicking through the few channels available before reaching the news networks, all of them repeating the same thing. He settled on channel 5 and sat down with his wife, taking a careful sip of his meal while his eyes were glued to the set.

"...while several lives were lost in the collapse, the mine's parent company reported several veins of precious minerals were found, including uranium during the excavation. Yet another startling discovery of resources our government was unaware of. We go over to Aleksandr Kono..."

"Can you believe this? First platinum, now uranium! I tell you, this mud puddle of a country is sitting on a goldmine, and our neighbours aren't going to just sit by and let us take it all for ourselves."

His wife laughed and took a bite out of some toast. "I think you're overreacting just a bit, dear. I'm sure no one's going to barge into here all unexpected." Mikhail simply grumbled and took a sip from his glass of juice.

“It’s Kravitzsina. Excuse me, Kravitzsana, sir.” The Minister of Foreign Affairs searched the General Secretary’s face for even a thought of understanding. Alexei sighed and laid the pile of documents he had been carrying on the desk before maneuvering around the edge of the desk to the still-silent General Secretary. “Sergei.” He snapped his fingers once and the General Secretary blinked himself from a thought-induced, or lack there-of, daze. With his attention now his, Alexei motioned for the General Secretary to put on his glasses before he swung the globe around. “Us,” he pointed at a reasonably-sized swath of Earth crossing the Caucasus and into the lower Ukraine before moving the tip of his index finger a quarter of an inch to the left, “them. Kravitzsana.”

The elderly man tried to focus on the globe before swatting the Foreign Affairs Minister’s hand away; he pointed at a landmass in the Middle East and spoke in thick Russian, without a hint of regional accent, “Kristivana?” Bringing a hand to his head, Alexei pulled back and let a disgusted sigh, ‘what in the hell did I do to get stuck here…’ It came out half-audible and half-thought with the General Secretary looking up with a quizzical look on his face, “What? Speak up!” The grandfatherly Sergei awaited Minister Papanov to clarify his ‘statement’.

Papanov answered the call and bent over, speaking directly into Sergei Khristenko’s ear, “Nothing, nothing.” He stepped back and proceeded to finish his situational report. “Kravitzsana state television has been, for the last several days, reporting about numerous mineral and natural resource finds. Earlier today, in fact, they’ve located a source of uranium. The area is, aside from farmland and this burgeoning natural resource pool, essentially worthless. Well, in its current hands.” He paused to make sure Khristenko was absorbing the information. He was doodling. That wasn’t good, was it? Nonetheless, he continued, “I’ve been talking with our counterparts in Moscow and they’re offering to provide some assistance if we need it.” Again, he checked the General Secretary’s awareness level; he sighed, and stated “I’ll take it to the council.”

Mr. Khristenko glanced up and spoke in his characteristically heavy and rich Russian, “Mr. Papillorov.” The Foreign Affairs Minister winced at the butchering of his surname, but was surprised that the General Secretary was even listening. “I will contact the council about this situation in Krosnamoya.” Minister Papanov winced again, this time at the second butchering of the poor country’s name. “There is no reason you should have to yourself, I do, after all, have my own duties. However, I believe you should talk with your counterparts and devise some suggested courses of action. Now please.” He moved his hand in a shooing form to send the young Foreign Affairs Minister on his way.

”Will do, General Secretary. Have a good day.” Alexei stepped forward for a moment and gathered the documents he had previously been chauffeuring before exiting the room and letting the heavy door creep shut in his wake. Just moments out the door he crossed paths with his counterpart in the Ministry of Defense. He gave a courteous nod, “Mr. Livanov.”

The Minister of Defense grinned and nodded towards the General Secretary’s heavy door, “As senile as ever?” He got his answer in a heavy nod from the Minister of Foreign Affairs. Vasily Livanov shook his head, “You’d think Moscow would be pretty adamant about replacing him, especially with how bad he’s gotten in the last year…”

“Aye, Vasily, its ridiculous is what it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lower level meeting.” Before he took off, he halted. “Oh, and the old man wants me, you, Vlad, the gang, you know, to meet and come up with some suggestion concerning the Kravitzsana situation. He said he was going to talk with the council but I assume that means he’s taking a nap on his desk.” Alexei gave a heated shrug, answered by an understanding head shake off of Vasily. “Anyways, we’ll see what tomorrow brings…” The two offered each other a short parting wave before each separated ways.

OOC: Tagged, will edit this later with my post.

OOC: Er sorry, I was on the wrong account as RFF. I'll be using this accont for the roleplay. This is a tag/reserved place.

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/utvara.jpg

Hallo Internationale Freunde!
Von den Büros des Utvaran fremden Ministeriums

Hallo geschätzte fremde Würdenträger! Heute verlängern wir, des Utvaran fremden Ministeriums die Hand der Freundschaft auf Ihre Nation.

Wir möchten Sie zu unserer schönen Hauptstadt einladen, Freisadt, für das upcoming Wochenende, Freitag September 22., 1972 durch September 24., 1972.

Unterkunftwille selbstverständlich, wird an keinen Kosten zu Ihnen oder zu Ihrer Nation zur Verfügung gestellt, und wir werden eine Konferenz auf September 23., 1972 bewirten.

Wir hoffen, daß Sie mit uns in dieser prachtvollen Erweiterung der internationalen Freundschaft hier sein können!

_____________________________

OOC: Yes, I know, I butchered the german. I don't know german, and translators can only do so much. I'll attach what the message says in english here, in quote form.

Hello esteemed foreign dignitaries! Today, we, of the Utvaran Foreign Ministry extend the hand of friendship to your nation.

We wish to invite you to our beautiful capital city, Freisadt, for the upcoming weekend, Friday September 22nd, 1972 through September 24th, 1972.

Lodging will of course, be provided at no cost to you or your nation, and we will be hosting a conference on the 23rd of September, 1972.

We hope that you can be here with us in this glorious expansion of international friendship!

In his morning stupor, Alexei Papanov bumped into his locked office door. Grunting, he took a step back and dug in his pocket for the key, producing it and attempting to slide it into the lock. After the third or fourth attempt, he succeeded, and the door slipped open. His right hand routinely reached for the light switch which, once flipped, bathed the office in a dull glow. Taking a deep yawn he nudged the door closed and draped his overcoat on a nearby chair, his head turning once the clang of the small metal tray near his door signaled the day’s arrival of mail. He squinted and groaned as he identified a pink slip. “What now?” He questioned himself.

He shuffled to the tray and picked up the relatively light stack of minor daily business and the solitary sheet of pink paper, usually denoting an order handed down from the General Secretary and the Council. He searched his mental archives as he made his way to his desk, attempting to remember if there were any meetings or conferences that were coming up he should have to attend. ‘Hmm… October. No, they wouldn’t send me an order for that this early.’ He lightly shrugged and let himself sink into the task chair, laying the pieces of diplomatic nonsense on the table and sinking further into the chair to read the pink slip.

His eyes glazed over. “What in the hell,” he muttered to himself as he leaned forward and picked up the receiver of his phone. A female operator answered. “Yeah, can you forward me to the General Secretary, or someone from the Council.”

“I’m sorry, they’re all in a morning briefing, is there anything anyone else you’d like me to-“ Papanov cut her off. “No thanks Ana, that’ll do.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before dropping the receiver in its cradle. His hand hovered over the receiver for a moment before picking it back up. “Yeah, sorry Ana, instead can you give me Yuriy?” He nodded when she confirmed. A moment later and the Minister of Domestic Affairs answered. “Yeah, Yuriy, say, do you know anything about this Utvaran conference thing?”

The Domestic Affairs Minister thought a moment before offering his answer. “Utvaran conference? I think I saw that name somewhere in my daily shit. Let me look. Hmm, wait, here it is. Yeah, what about it? Did you get a summons?” Papanov responded, “Yeah. I get to fucking leave tomorrow for some conference that wasn’t scheduled, taking up the whole fucking weekend. This better be worth it or I’ll…”

Yuriy chuckled and quickly interjected, “Remember, these lines are monitored, and although our General Secretary himself doesn’t hear very well, his associates can.”

“I suppose, anyways, I better go. Take care.” Once again he set the receiver on its cradle. He picked up the pink paper again and spotted something he had missed. “And I’ve got to write them a confirmation?” He scowled and addressed his General Secretary who wasn’t present, “Sergei, you senile old fool! This is why the hell I have a secretary!” He grunted and looked at the door, realizing his outburst and fearing someone was outside the door and capable of hearing it. As a few moments passed without steps through the hallway, Alexei quietly pulled out a fresh piece of paper and swiveled around to the typewriter, sliding it in and feeding it partially through. ‘I’d better do this,’ he thought, ‘or if Sergei found out he’d somehow get a commission to fire me for insubordination.’

He set his mind to the task at hand and quickly typed out a response.



The Armed Republic looks forward to attending this conference aimed at the expansion of international relations. Our representative to the conference will be Mr. Alexei Papanov, the Armed Republic’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, and company. We await further communication to commence at the beginning of this conference.

Regards,

Alexei Papanov
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Authorized to Respond Under Direction of the General Secretary

The Armed Republic of Soviet Bloc

The harsh ringing of the old black phone filled the room, and after the third ring, a hand lashed out in attempt to grab it. The handset was knocked off onto the carpet below, and muffled voices could be heard. A shape leaned down brought it back up to his ear.

"Suo?" The voice was that of a man in his late 50's, full of fatigue and a hint of anger. "Who are you, and what do you want?" The phone remained silent for a moment, and he took the pause to sit up and rub his eyes, which were half closed. Finally, the voice finished speaking in a hushed tone and returned its attention to him. "Mr. Premier, I apologise for the rude awakening, but an urgent letter has just arrived." The Premier of Kravitzsana groaned and ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "Oh, lord, Boris. I'm terribly sorry for that. I just haven't had much sleep after that little bit of mining business. Everyone back at parliament has been haranguing me about it." A silent affirmation could be sensed. "It's quite alright; I hope everything sorts itself out. But, speaking of the mining, I believe this has something to do with it. I need to go now, but it should be there soon. Get some sleep." After muttering a thank you, the Premier set the phone on the receiver and immediately returned to a deep, peaceful sleep.

The letter arrived the next day, delivered by a brave young soldier who had taken up the task of driving through mud, dirt and snow in an ancient GAZ-61. The four-wheel-drive sedan was ushered passed the walls surrounding the compound and up the dirt road until it reached the winter home. The Premier was waiting, clad in pajamas and a heavy robe, when he stepped out and approached, giving a crisp salute.

"Good morning, sir. This is the letter I was informed to deliver to you, post-haste." The Premier returned the salute casually and opened the letter, and nodded. "I'll go. Thank you for bringing this to my attention." He refolded the pink slip, then slid it back into the letter, before handing it to the soldier and exchanging goodbyes. As the vehicle departed, he couldn't help but shake the feeling something bad was on the horizon.

OOC: Sorry for the short post.

All throughout the city of Freisadt things were being prepared, some seen and others not. The Capitol Police stood ready at the main airport, their FN FALs held tightly.

The foreigners would not be arriving there, however. They were to come to a much smaller less known facility.

There was only one runway, forcing planes to land and take off quickly. Today at the end of this particular runway, two small armored SUVs sat idle, men in plain clothes leaning against the doors on the outside.