NationStates Jolt Archive

SS Beer
North Pacific Ocean
400 Hrs Local

Screaming, fires, gutted buildings...

Ji-Lou Khan gripped the railing, his fingers turning white.

Entrails hanging out of bodies, tanks crushing dying soldiers beneath their treads...

His pulse quickened... a bead of sweat ran down his nose.

A flash. The scream of a thousand sirens, the roar of a million lions, the light of a billion suns...

His body shook.

And it was all gone.

He fell to the floor. An ensign rushed over, checking his pulse. It was racing. The captain was dumped onto a gurney and rushed down the stairs to the infirmary. A nurse looked him over. "He's in shock; what happened to him?" she questioned, loosening his clothing.

"I don't know," replied the ensign. "He was fine one minute, and on the floor the next. It was like-"

"ERICAAA!" screamed Khan, his eyes bulging. Several nurses restrained him, strapping his limbs into the infirmary bed. The heart monitor began flashing. A nurse injected him with Digitalis. His heart rate slowed. He calmed; a small cough escaped his lips. A doctor rushed over and checked his vitals. Kneeling by the bed, he asked, "What happened, Captain?"

Khan's head turned towards the doctor. His eyes were glassy. "The... invasion..." he breathed.

The doctor shook his head in dismay. He feared that Khan would never be the same again. The captian had seen too much in the invasion of the Desert. In Vertias, he had seen the carnage from the Doomani hordes that swept across the lowlands. He remembered vividly the screams, the flashes of light... God, the skinnings, the roastings. He hadn't himself seen Khan, but he had heard that the General had escaped and returned to TBD to command the defense. Although they fought with courage, the Doomani ripped them to shreds. Khan's wife, Erica, had been killed in a way that the doctor was sure even the Doomani found appauling.

1500 Hrs

Khan awoke. Seeing that he was in the infirmary, he shook his head and began pulling on clothing. A nurse, seeing this, said, "Captian, you have to rest; we still have you under observation."

"I'm fine. There's no need," he replied, continuing to dress himself. He smiled at the nurse and made his way back to the bridge. Before him lay the expanse of East Haven... its waters shone like a million diamonds, gleaming in the setting sun. He looked off into the distance. Suddenly, he caught the view of a thin black strip along the horizon. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes; was this an effect of his seizure? Grabbing the binoculars from beside the helm, he peered through at the object. As soon as he recognized it, excitement shot through his brain. He turned around and looked around the bridge for the ship's phone. Finding it, he picked it up and announced, "Land ho! Land ho!"

Cheers emitted from the assembled Burnsian refugee fleet, composed of everything from an old BRN aircraft carrier to 40' fishing schooners. Hundreds of foghorns sounded, sending every seagull for miles bolting. Men, women, and childred danced on the decks of their vessels and raised toasts to the New Founding. Several photographers rushed about, taking pictures of the celebrating Burnsians. The celebrations went on for several hours, until the waves ceased to sparkle.

On the bridge of the Beer, champagne soaked the floor as the fleet approached Haven. Khan had loosened his demeanor somewhat, unbuttoning his Burnsian Navy uniform and removing his cover. He was talking to the ensign who had taken him to the infirmary.

"You know," said the ensign, "We sighted land on RADAR about a half-hour after you went under. We wanted to make sure that you could see it yourself."

Khan smiled. "Thanks. I really do appreciate that. Hold on a minute, I have to announce something." He walked to the helm and turned towards the assembled men. "Attention on deck!" he barked, and all the sailors quickly ceased talking and turned towards him. "Sailors of the Burnsian Desert! Today is a great day for our country. We are about to embark upon a Great Adventure, one that is to be described in history books for epochs to come. Before us lies the great expanse of Haven, the very same region that destroyed my fleet in one fell swoop. However! I harbor no resentment towards them; they have freed me and my comrades from the chains of duty to the Queen!"

Several men broke the silence by cheering and clapping. Others joined, and soon the entire room was celebrating again. Khan smiled. He raised his voice again, and the room quieted.

"Now, I want all you to know, that the settling of Haven will not be easy. We will be faced with many challenges when we land. Know this, however: I will never abandon you, my countrymen. I will always walk beside you as your brother; never doubt this. As I am your brother, I expect you to be brothers, and to treat each other as such. Do this, and the Desert will flourish with roses. Do not do this, and the Desert will remain barren.

"Finally, my brothers, I believe that our first challenge... will be the hangovers that we all wake up with in the morning. To the Desert!" he cried, raising his glass.

"To the Desert!" roared back his sailors, laughing and cheering.

The Next Day
750 Hrs Local

The Beer was anchored offshore of the new Burnsian territory. A small launch had been lowered from the side with a landing party of six. The launch slid onto the rocky shore. A sailor set up a camera to capture the moment, as Khan stepped onto the beach. Looking towards the forests past the beach, he declared, "I claim this land... in the Name of the Burnsian Desert!"

The video was transmitted via sattelite to all known international news networks.

Pioneer City
The Burnsian Desert
1000 Hrs

Khan got out of bed and ran water for the shower. It had been over three months since the Burnsian landing in Haven. During this period, the settlers had constructed some 275,000 homes, twenty makeshift hospitals, and fourteen docks. Hundreds of millions of Burnsians were still waiting on the ocean for clearance to land. No international aid had been recieved by the colonists, to Khan's dismay, but the Burnsians remained driven to make this land theirs.

The peninsula on which they had landed had yet to be named; most just had taken to calling it 'Here' or 'The Peninsula'. However, most all had agreed to call the new settlement Pioneer City, after their endeavors. Khan didn't believe the name was aesthetically pleasing, but he felt that it was better to appease the settlers; change would come later.

He toweled off and stepped out of the bathroom. His house was miniscule, containing only a bathroom, kitchenette, and bedroom. This setup was much nicer than most other thousands of homes, which only had a bed and a bath, and maybe a stove for boiling water.

Several groups of men in Pioneer City had met in small town hall-style meetings to make decisions for their small neighborhoods. Khan wasn't very happy about this, as he had ambitions of his own. He straightened his tie and walked down the muddy quasi-street to the city center. The city center was the area where food and supplies were handed out by the Burnsian Navy. It was 10:30... just about daily ration time.

City Center
Pioneer City
1130 Hrs

Khan clambered on top of a stack of crates that were being offloaded from trucks coming from the shore. Thousands had gathered to recieve their food; this was the perfect audience for Khan. Bernice Kalid, his most trusted lieutenant, handed him a bullhorn and stood behind him at attention. Khan looked out towards the crowd and began.

"Citizens! I have a question for you. Think back to our Grand Exodus from the Old Country. Who was the man who led you from the hellfire of Doomingsland?" he paused momentarily. Several cries of "Khan!" were heard.

Khan smiled, continuing, "Who was the man who led our fleet through famine, through storms, through misery and hell?"

His speech was beginning to rouse the assembly. More and more cheers were heard, but jeering could still be discerned among the shouts.

"And now I ask you, my dear bretheren, who set up our glorious new City, fed you, clothed you, and made sure that you had the basic necessities of life? I did. And I will continue to do so, as long as it pleases you. I have taken it upon myself to begin the preperations for an Election, one for the leader of our new nation. Now, in the spirit of democracy and fairness, any man or woman in the citizendry will be able to nominate himself for any position. However, in the interest of the safety and survival of the Desert, I implore you to vote for me, your brother, to lead us in this new land."

He paused for a second to let the speech sink in. "Now, double rations for everyone!" Cheers and shouts of joy replied.

It's just so easy...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pioneer City, The Burnsian Desert
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Likard Kuarmenos was a former soldier, a man accustomed to personal suffering. Like many soldiers, he had joined with the IYAF after the Yaforite-Generian war. It was a common thing to do, an easy way to deal with post-war trauma and do some good in the process. The Yaforite government often encouraged former soldiers to do things such as that to heal their own wounds and heal the wound of other countries as well. It was how Yaforites thought, in criminal cases, for example, an oft-used punishment was a sort of "community service". Likard was doing something very much the same.

One of these such IYAF (it stood for Imperial Yaforite Aid Foundation, a not-for-profit organization heavily supported by the Yaforite government devoted to the betterment of people's lives throughout the world) project was in this country, or people trying to become a country here, in the Southeastern corner of Haven. He could empathize with these people. They were trying as hard as they could to survive, after everything they had been through. He was trying to heal the unseen wounds of the war. That was what made this veterans-IYAF program work so well. Such people were very similar.

He stood astride his helicopter as it sped across the seas. He didn't precisely know what this part of the seas were called - the sea between Skinny87 and Adejaani. Perhaps it was the Southern Omz Strait? The Adejaani Sea? It didn't matter at all, but being a former pilot (and still a pilot, for that matter, though he wasn't flying this helicopter) he liked to know the precise geography of an area. It was an airman's thing, he was sure. None of the other non-pilot veterans or even the regular volunteers wanted to do such a thing. He was unique in that way.

The helicopter touched down to the ground near Pioneer City in the new Burnsian Desert. Likard looked around and wondered why these people even called it such. If anything, a more truthful name would have been "Pioneer Slum". But Yaforites tended to be very uppity about such things, as well as the fact that most Yaforites were raised in their sizable middle class. Yaforite poverty was nothing like the poverty in other nations. But Yaforite aid was changing that, across the world, one step at a time.

There was a huge Yaforite effort in the area already, Likard couldn't help but to notice. Heavy trucks filled with Yaforite foodstuffs and water were completely obscuring everything else in the area. Many other relief helicopters and aircraft were touching down and the man-power of the brown-skinned Yaforites was simply astounding. Many people were working to set up shelters and hospitals, and to further what the people of this area had already done. Pioneer City was in a state of utter work.

Easily, Likard began to search for someone in charge to talk to.

Khan spotted Likard moving amogst the trucks and supply crates littering the City Center. The Yaforite looked official enough. Khan straightened his insignia on his tattered and bloodied BDU. Even in this state, he wanted to look presentable, as he represented the entirety of his small nation. He strode up to Likard, offering his hand. "Hi, I'm High General Ji-Lou Khan. You look like you're in charge here; can I ask your name?"

Likard Kuarmenos was not usually a man to be startled into conversation, but yet, when the man walked up to him, he suddenly became very talkative. He could see immediately that the man was filled with ambition. Most liked this "Ji-Lou Khan" was the type of man who was looking to take over the position of "leader" for this new nation. Likard was not surprised and fairly glad, in fact, to be dealing with someone so senior (or would likely be very senior soon) and most likely would be in charge in this place in a short amount of time. Lower rankers could be so difficult to deal with sometimes.

"Likard Kuarmenos, IYAF. Looks like you are adjusting to your new home pretty well. Glad to be of help in any way." He took the other man's hand warmly, feeling the strength of his hand shake. In the Yaforite military, they were taught how to shake hands well. It proved several things about several people, it was said. Likard had a warm smile on his face in return, as if telling the other man that he was simply here to help and for no other reason. This was a not-for-profit organization, of course, and he had to uphold its reputation in these parts as well as create a lasting one.

Khan locked eyes with Likard. Behind his dark pupils, behind the pleasantries... he saw pain. Khan instantly identified with the man. There was a unspoken bond between soldiers; many men had talked of it, few had been able to articulate it. Khan wasn't one to try.

"We really do appreciate the help you guys are giving us. I'm not sure if you ever visited the Old Country, but you would've seen how magnificent the city of Highfather was. I was born there... I grew up amonst the shining steel skyscrapers... I loved it there," he said, sadly. Quickly, though, he recomposed himself. "Sorry. Anyways, we're about to hold elections for some sort of leader. We need to have someone setting up voting areas, or something of the sort. And we just discovered an abandoned mining operation about a klick south of the City Center here; we could use some mining equipment. We have to get our economy started somehow, eh?" he said, smiling.

Major Mohamed Abram looked down at the sprawling 'city' below him taking note of how much this resembled a refugee camp to him. Him and the others in the blackhawk were about a thousand feet in the air when one of them spotted a dense group of people gathering around what seemed to be people in charge.

"Major! over here!" one of the soldiers shouted.

Abrams looked down out of the right side of the helicopter. From what he could see there almost seemed to be a man giving a speech on top of a soap box to a crowd. Well good enough for me he thought to himself. He moved toward the cockpit and tapped the pilot on the shoulder.

"You see that gathering of people down there? I want you to land right there"

The pilot nodded in reply and took the helicopter down. The landing proved to be quite a spectacle as a number of people who hadn't noticed had to run out of the way for it and the BlackHawks rotors almost cut apart a nearby tent.

Several Marines armed with the new standard issue M8 carbine jumped out of the Black Hawk following the Major who had a paper in his hand.

"Who is in charge here?" he shouted

Likard Kuarmenos listened to the other man recollect the years of his childhood in the city of Highfather. He could not stop himself in feeling pity for the other man. Having ones city of birth, city of dwelling, city of heart, and city of love be destroyed in one fell swoop could make even the strongest cry. Likard knew that if his own city of Kieora was ever destroyed, his heart would vanish with the city. Most people shared a special bond with the city that they associated with home and that was normally a bond that was never broken in their lifetime.

Likard nodded and spoke in return. "Elections, eh? Would you like Yaforite government overseers to look after the election process, to limit fraud, and so forth? I can contact the government and see if they'd agree to it - chances are that they would, they usually like to establish contacts with other nations." Likard grinned. Chances were that this "Ji-Lou Khan" knew of the Grand Democratic Duchy and its quest to become the "best" nation in the world. A mostly successful quest, so far.

"I know for a fact that I can contact our industrial development division for working on that, and other, mines in the area." The IYAF was a remarkably well organized organization, and worked nearly flawlessly. "Would you like our micro credit division (gives out small loans, 98% pay-back rate) to set up shop here as well?" he asked politely, expecting a nod of assent.

Khan listened to Likard with interest. There was much that Yafor could offer the Desert, but he couldn't help but feel like he was a pawn. "You know, we would appreciate you overseeing the elections. The problem is, we never foresaw the need for any sort of counting machines or voting boots, so we were going to just use paper and pens. As you can forsee, that would be a major problem. If Yafor could loan us some, we would be most grateful," he said. He coughed a bit; It must be the dampness around here, he thoughe. I hope I'm not coming down with something.

"We also accept the help of your industrial development division; hopefully we'll have a strong mining industry in three or four years. And, yes, we would hope you could have your Federal Credit division here. Be cautious, however, as there has been some crime lately; we wouldn't want you to-" He was cut off by the sound of approaching rotor blades. People panicked and ran, and a few boxes were toppled over by the force of the winds.

Hell of a way to make an entrance, Khan thought. A man in fatigues jumped out of the helicopter. Several men behind him were carrying rifles. Khan made sure the AK-47 strapped to his back was locked. He heard the man ask who was in charge. Khan walked up to him, with his hand extended. "High General Ji-Lou Khan, Interim Leader. How can I help you, sir?"

Major Abrams' face changed almost instantly from a a grimace to smile as he set eyes upon the military figure in front of him. A fellow soldier he thought to himself. He shook the General's hand firmly looking him straight in the eye, similar to culture of Yaforians, Groznians, those of Chechen decent especially made a very big deal out of one's character- "Major Mohamed Abrams, thirty-first marine division; Republic of Groznyj."-he was still half shouting over the sound of the helicopter as he introduced himself-"I hope you'll excuse the entrance I have some important things to discuss with you"- The BlackHawk's rotors had started to wind down and a number of the people who had ran away were now staring at the foreign soldiers and insignia confusedly.-"I'm here on behalf of my government. I have orders to assist you in rebuilding your nation and providing suitable defense if you would accept it.

Abrams produced an envelope and handed it to the General. It read:
----------------------------

Official Federal Document of The Republic of Groznyj

To whoever is in command of the new Burnsian Desert:

On behalf of The Republic of Groznyj, I want to first commend the brave efforts of your peoples and their determination to survive in face of all that has happened to them. I understand that you most likely will not have the time for formalities so I will cut to the chase;

The services of the 31st Marine Div. under command of the Department of Defense will be rendered to you in order to aid your nation in its new struggle in this new and unforgiving land. -I presume none of the powerful nations in Haven have offered their assistance as of yet?- Currently there are a number of ships anchored over the horizon of your shores laden with a multitude of supplies, engineers, and troops ready to be used at your disposal in conjunction with Major Abrams. If you agree to let us help we can quickly set up a military base of operations-away from your civilian center of course- and clear the land in order for residential and industrial developments as well as use for farming.

I trust that you do not find our presence threatening in anyway. We come in good will and mostly because many of our people identify with the pain yours have gone through. The goal of this is to forge a lasting brotherhood between our two nations and that one day yours will again grow to be a powerful force.

signed: Ramzan Urmev,
President of the Republic of Groznyj

Khan took the letter and replaced it in its envelope. He put it in his jacket pocket and eyed the assembled Groznians.

"I believe that Mr. Urmev and I have much to discuss. If it is not too much trouble, I would like to have a conversation over the telephone with him, or, preferably, meet with him face to face. If he cannot do either -- and I understand, because he must be a very busy man -- I will write a reply letter and entrust you with it, Major."

The Major listened to what Khan had to say and saluted. "Yessir. I will contact the Presidential Palace and see if he can speak to you. It will only take a few minutes and we can do it through the helicopter" Abrams went back to the chopper and exchanged a few words with the pilot who began fiddling with the radio. Getting through the chain of communication would take a little while. Meanwhile the 6 Marines that had jumped out with the Major had now formed a sort of ring around the helicopter to keep any curious or angry civilians away. One such man started yelling at one of the soldiers demanding he have a word with a pilot after the helicopter scared away his goat. The soldier only shrugged his shoulder as the Burnsian man stormed away cursing.

After about 8 minutes the Major finally had the president on the line.

"Yes Mr. President, I'll put him through." The Major gave the phone to a soldier and walked quickly back over to the High General. "Sir," he said, "I have the President on the line right now, if you would only follow me to the chopper."

Groznians weren't people to dilly dally or poke around the bush. When they went out to do something they did it with a purpose and speed. So was the character of Urmev himself.

ooc: if I don't post again tonight it will be sometime tomorrow night.

Khan walked briskly beside the Major until he got to the helicopter. He picked up the phone and covered his opposite ear with his hand against the din of the city.

"Mr. President? General Khan here. It's nice to meet you. I'd like to tell you how much I appreciate you helping us out in this. Anyways, I recieved your letter. Although I do not see who could be attacking us at this time, I will allow the Groznian army to establish a base of operations outside of Pioneer City. The main thing that we're trying to do at this time is to get all the people from the ships onto the shore and into housing. We have only a few facilities for your ships to dock in, but hopefully you can help us with that. I apologize for explaining so many things at once; you must understand I have a lot on my plate," Khan sighed. Fatigue lines showed on his face for the first time in this whole ordeal.

Urmev listened to the man's words and at once was able to identify with him for Urmev too was once a soldier. He had served under Dzhokhar Dudayev as a resistance fighter when Chechnya had first declared its independence from Russia and then under Aslan Maskhadov until his assasination. He was there when the capital of Grozny was carpet bombed into unrecognizable rubble multiple times. He too had had to withstand seeing a large part of his family die in each of the 2 Russo-Chechen wars and the subsequent Independance War aswell as having his home city blown to ashes. He knew what it felt like, to come to a point where it seemed all hope was lost. A tear went down the 62 year-old man's eye as he remembered the chaotic beginnings of his nation, although if anyone had been in the room with him he would not have let out any emotion. Then memories came to him of the glorious fight against the Russians and the Caucasus Mountain Treaty and the war for independence.

"Listen." he said. "I will make sure that your nation once again gets back up on its feet. Don't worry about it. Inshallah brother I will make sure of it. As we speak I am wiring $250Billion to your nation's accounts. There would be a greater naval presence but the navy is currently tied up in another situation. It has been good speaking to you, may Allah be with you."


During this whole conversation the old Burnsian man managed to find his goat as well as a few leaves of marijuana that it had been nibbling on.
ooc: I know my country's history is confusing as hell, eventually I'll type it out in the wiki.

OOC: Lol, I'll have to start a drug trade. In fact, that isn't half a bad idea.

IC:

"You as well..." Khan said, a little shakily. He replaced the phone on its cradle and saluted to the Major. Looking around at the shanties about the Center, he couldn't help but wonder what would become of it in forty or fifty years.

50 Years Later
Pioneer City
The Burnsian Desert

Khan looked around the room through glassy eyes. The heart monitor's beeping was slowing down gradually; the doctors had said that Khan didn't have much more time. That was fine with the General; his life had been lived to the fullest. Two generations of his lineage stood around the bed, talking quietly amongst themselves and looking with admiration upon the old man's body. Outside the panorama window was the skyline of Pioneer City; the huge steel massifs loomed over the multilane expresslanes below. A fighter jet screamed by the hospital window on its way to the nearby Khan Air Base.

As Khan felt his consciousness slipping away, he held a trembling hand out for his son-in-law, Radwan Nasenko. "Rade..." he breathed. Radwan stooped down towards his father-in-law's deathbed. "Rade... with this kiss..." he coughed, holding out his hand for Radwan's, "I declare you... Emperor... of the Glorious Iron Provinces of The Burnsian Desert."

Khan lifted Radwan's hand towards his lips and kissed the large jeweled ring that adorned his finger. As the ruby left his lips, the blood seemed to fall from Khan's face with it. He gasped, and the life left his body.