Gurguvungunit
06-01-2007, 05:50
Los Angeles
"... hereby grants Akabania Corp. of Japan Chapter Eleven bankruptcy until such time as it can make good on payments outstanding with the federal government of the United States..."
Singapore
There wasn't much of a panic in Singapore. Really, there wasn't much of an anything. Akabania's foreign employees packed up company materials and left on December 20th, 2006. They left a nation with robust civil services and public amenities without any form of higher government whatsoever, a Medusa of utilities, public transportation, sanitation and healthcare, self sufficient but totally undirected.
The Akabanians were leaving. Nobody was quite sure what to make of it, and they stared as their corporate heads/government drove away in trucks to Singapore International Airport. Hundreds found themselves suddenly unemployed, fired from middle-management jobs at Akabania's corporate headquarters. The rest-- employed at non-governmental corporations-- went about their day with consternation. But Singapore was not a nation ready for nor interested in anarchy, and it showed. Within a day, blackouts became a serious problem as it became clear that nobody was allocating electricity from the power grid. That had been an Akabania job, liquidated in the pullout. Trains and buses ran on time, but nobody was going to work. In a suddenly uncertain atmosphere, people were staying home with their families.
Singapore Harbour
Well, that was unusual. Marine Colonel Avery Rhede sipped her tea on the deck of the FCS Ark Royal and watched Singapore's largest skyscrapers go dark. It was a disquieting sight; the great buildings had been lit constantly since the Australasian Home Fleet had arrived weeks ago, sending fingers of rippling light across the dark ocean at night and providing a cheery hello in the early morning. Avery set her mug of tea down on the bridge deck's railing and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She squinted at the city before turning to look at the flag bridge of the Ark Royal, gathering her tea as she did so.
Admiral Damascus was sitting placidly in his chair, stumpy form crumpled into the cracked faux-leather upholstry. He had one ear pressed against a telephone and was grumbling at it intently.
"Yes, yes. Thank you for making me aware of the situation, Mr. Chairman. I'm concerned, I must admit, about the status of Singapore itself. Yes, I'm sure the corporation did all it could, yes. It's like this, though, Mr. Chairman. From here, I can see at least three places where there's no power in the city, and it looks like there's something of a crowd gathering on the waterfront. Yes, I know. I'm not sure that I'm expressing myself clearly, Chairman..."
Singapore
"'S a mess, colonel." Marine Lieutenant David Whitters looked around Singapore's dockyard, noting the lack of working employees and the rather large crowd of sullen looking young men. The power was down again, leaving the port without electricity upon which it depended for normal operations.
"Establish some kind of command post in a secure area, I'll be coming ashore soon." The colonel sounded nervous, Whitters noted as he acknowledged, motioning for his squad to begin unloading the Balikpapan-class landing craft that had carried them ashore. The twelve men and women hurried to do his bidding, slinging their Steyr assault rifles over their shoulders. They waved a score of trucks off of the boat and pointed them in the direction of a large parking lot nearly empty of vehicles. Adjacent crouched a low building studded with satellite dishes and tall aerials, a telecommunications building of some kind. It was of solid concrete construction and had few large windows. There were no blind approaches, and no nearby buildings were significantly taller than it was. It would do for the moment.
Roughly two hours later, Whitters surveyed his work. The few employees remaining had been requested to leave. The parking lot, once empty, was now host to twelve green tents of varying size, twenty-three large trucks, an improvised checkpoint and a few pintle-mounted Bren guns masked by camo netting. No need to provoke fear. The building itself, home to Singapore Public Television, had been transformed internally. The large business floor had been cleared of extraneous desks and furniture. Technicians were laying wiring now, hooking FCMC Powerbooks to a portable server. Apple architecture was clunky, but it resisted virus attacks and, with a little modification, could be made to do such things as launch nuclear missiles at Sweden.
Three Days Later
Colonel Rhede sat at one of the desks, phone pressed to one ear and eyes scanning an email from h.damascus@FCN.au. It was a videoburst provided by Akabanian executives, eager to divest themselves of their Singapore investment. Her orders were to broadcast it at 2100 hours to all news stations on the island, a sort of farewell message from Akabania to the former Akabanians. Rhede sighed and fished a pack of gum from her tunic's pocket. She studied the package and grimaced; wintermint was disgusting. Popping a stick into her mouth, she continued down her to do: list.
Ah, yes. She needed to appoint provisional department heads and assign liaisons to various Singaporean administrators. Diplomats would have to be brought in from Raleigh in large numbers; calming and reassuring the populace was paramount in importance. This was not a third-world nation with a poorly educated populace. It was one of the richest per-capita nations in all of Asia, certainly moreso than the Free Colony. Things would have to work quickly and flawlessly.
The position of military governor was an uncomfortable one for Rhede, whose personal politics tended towards liberalism. She ignored the urge to announce democratic elections and suchlike, reasoning that such things were best dealt with by the career administrators being sent from Raleigh. Singaporeans themselves appeared to be taking things well enough, although reports of riots were filtering through the still-sketchy communications channels of the Provisional Authority.
Forces on Singapore now numbered close to eight hundred marines and two hundred naval officers. An administrative staff of over two hundred and fifty men and women bustled in and out of the headquarters building, many of them still setting up their office spaces for what would doubtless be a long deployment. Singaporean officials of varying standing were being called in to meet with Australasians in an attempt to form a bi-national leadership. Pressing matters included the electrical grid, public transportation and healthcare, as well as finding and raising funds for public use. Currently, the Singaporean budget had been appended to that of the Marine Corps, making the FCMC the most expensive service by half, replacing the navy in that dubious honour.
Raleigh
Press releases state that the Singaporean operation took place at the behest of departing Akabania Corp. executives, and proof was found in the form of a video made by the chairman of the board, who requested that the 'Australasian protection fleet' deploy peacekeeping units and assist in the creation of a 'unity government'. Although certain outlets were doubtless going to be skeptical, the tape was genuine enough. It had been made at the secret request of the government in Raleigh for a generous sum of money spread throughout various government funds and budgets, but the tape was genuine.
Prime Minister Strathairn shared a glass of scotch with Christina in his office and drew a large red check mark through Singapore. Score one, Australasia.
"... hereby grants Akabania Corp. of Japan Chapter Eleven bankruptcy until such time as it can make good on payments outstanding with the federal government of the United States..."
Singapore
There wasn't much of a panic in Singapore. Really, there wasn't much of an anything. Akabania's foreign employees packed up company materials and left on December 20th, 2006. They left a nation with robust civil services and public amenities without any form of higher government whatsoever, a Medusa of utilities, public transportation, sanitation and healthcare, self sufficient but totally undirected.
The Akabanians were leaving. Nobody was quite sure what to make of it, and they stared as their corporate heads/government drove away in trucks to Singapore International Airport. Hundreds found themselves suddenly unemployed, fired from middle-management jobs at Akabania's corporate headquarters. The rest-- employed at non-governmental corporations-- went about their day with consternation. But Singapore was not a nation ready for nor interested in anarchy, and it showed. Within a day, blackouts became a serious problem as it became clear that nobody was allocating electricity from the power grid. That had been an Akabania job, liquidated in the pullout. Trains and buses ran on time, but nobody was going to work. In a suddenly uncertain atmosphere, people were staying home with their families.
Singapore Harbour
Well, that was unusual. Marine Colonel Avery Rhede sipped her tea on the deck of the FCS Ark Royal and watched Singapore's largest skyscrapers go dark. It was a disquieting sight; the great buildings had been lit constantly since the Australasian Home Fleet had arrived weeks ago, sending fingers of rippling light across the dark ocean at night and providing a cheery hello in the early morning. Avery set her mug of tea down on the bridge deck's railing and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She squinted at the city before turning to look at the flag bridge of the Ark Royal, gathering her tea as she did so.
Admiral Damascus was sitting placidly in his chair, stumpy form crumpled into the cracked faux-leather upholstry. He had one ear pressed against a telephone and was grumbling at it intently.
"Yes, yes. Thank you for making me aware of the situation, Mr. Chairman. I'm concerned, I must admit, about the status of Singapore itself. Yes, I'm sure the corporation did all it could, yes. It's like this, though, Mr. Chairman. From here, I can see at least three places where there's no power in the city, and it looks like there's something of a crowd gathering on the waterfront. Yes, I know. I'm not sure that I'm expressing myself clearly, Chairman..."
Singapore
"'S a mess, colonel." Marine Lieutenant David Whitters looked around Singapore's dockyard, noting the lack of working employees and the rather large crowd of sullen looking young men. The power was down again, leaving the port without electricity upon which it depended for normal operations.
"Establish some kind of command post in a secure area, I'll be coming ashore soon." The colonel sounded nervous, Whitters noted as he acknowledged, motioning for his squad to begin unloading the Balikpapan-class landing craft that had carried them ashore. The twelve men and women hurried to do his bidding, slinging their Steyr assault rifles over their shoulders. They waved a score of trucks off of the boat and pointed them in the direction of a large parking lot nearly empty of vehicles. Adjacent crouched a low building studded with satellite dishes and tall aerials, a telecommunications building of some kind. It was of solid concrete construction and had few large windows. There were no blind approaches, and no nearby buildings were significantly taller than it was. It would do for the moment.
Roughly two hours later, Whitters surveyed his work. The few employees remaining had been requested to leave. The parking lot, once empty, was now host to twelve green tents of varying size, twenty-three large trucks, an improvised checkpoint and a few pintle-mounted Bren guns masked by camo netting. No need to provoke fear. The building itself, home to Singapore Public Television, had been transformed internally. The large business floor had been cleared of extraneous desks and furniture. Technicians were laying wiring now, hooking FCMC Powerbooks to a portable server. Apple architecture was clunky, but it resisted virus attacks and, with a little modification, could be made to do such things as launch nuclear missiles at Sweden.
Three Days Later
Colonel Rhede sat at one of the desks, phone pressed to one ear and eyes scanning an email from h.damascus@FCN.au. It was a videoburst provided by Akabanian executives, eager to divest themselves of their Singapore investment. Her orders were to broadcast it at 2100 hours to all news stations on the island, a sort of farewell message from Akabania to the former Akabanians. Rhede sighed and fished a pack of gum from her tunic's pocket. She studied the package and grimaced; wintermint was disgusting. Popping a stick into her mouth, she continued down her to do: list.
Ah, yes. She needed to appoint provisional department heads and assign liaisons to various Singaporean administrators. Diplomats would have to be brought in from Raleigh in large numbers; calming and reassuring the populace was paramount in importance. This was not a third-world nation with a poorly educated populace. It was one of the richest per-capita nations in all of Asia, certainly moreso than the Free Colony. Things would have to work quickly and flawlessly.
The position of military governor was an uncomfortable one for Rhede, whose personal politics tended towards liberalism. She ignored the urge to announce democratic elections and suchlike, reasoning that such things were best dealt with by the career administrators being sent from Raleigh. Singaporeans themselves appeared to be taking things well enough, although reports of riots were filtering through the still-sketchy communications channels of the Provisional Authority.
Forces on Singapore now numbered close to eight hundred marines and two hundred naval officers. An administrative staff of over two hundred and fifty men and women bustled in and out of the headquarters building, many of them still setting up their office spaces for what would doubtless be a long deployment. Singaporean officials of varying standing were being called in to meet with Australasians in an attempt to form a bi-national leadership. Pressing matters included the electrical grid, public transportation and healthcare, as well as finding and raising funds for public use. Currently, the Singaporean budget had been appended to that of the Marine Corps, making the FCMC the most expensive service by half, replacing the navy in that dubious honour.
Raleigh
Press releases state that the Singaporean operation took place at the behest of departing Akabania Corp. executives, and proof was found in the form of a video made by the chairman of the board, who requested that the 'Australasian protection fleet' deploy peacekeeping units and assist in the creation of a 'unity government'. Although certain outlets were doubtless going to be skeptical, the tape was genuine enough. It had been made at the secret request of the government in Raleigh for a generous sum of money spread throughout various government funds and budgets, but the tape was genuine.
Prime Minister Strathairn shared a glass of scotch with Christina in his office and drew a large red check mark through Singapore. Score one, Australasia.