NationStates Jolt Archive

TNIA Interrogation Facility #15

He had no idea where he was. The last thing he could remember was going to sleep in his tastefully furnished apartment, drifting off to the dull sound of stilted political debate emanating from a 1080p television he bought about a year ago.

He tried to get his bearings, though it was difficult as his whole body ached. He now found himself in a circular, musty cell with unbearably bright lights bearing down upon him from every angle, the source of which he assumed to be hidden in the walls and ceiling. A concrete bench ran the course of the room, with the exception of a long, tall mirror. Dead center of the floor was a hole, which he assumed was a toilet of sorts. The smell of industrial cleaning agents was everywhere.

He arose, hacking a cough that drew blood and phlegm. He looked into the glass. What looked back was a short, somewhat overweight man of middle years, unshaven and unkempt. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin had the yellowish tinge of one who enjoyed a night at the pub too often. He was dressed in a faded yellow jumpsuit, which had a nametag reading "PRISONER C-010028 A. Kurakama" in dull black letters located over his left breast.

Kurakama's exhausted psyche mulled over the events leading up to his current incarceration. He remembered being arrested at gunpoint by innumerable men in black face-masks and light body armor, and marched off to a plumbing van along with five other prisoners, three of whom he recognized. His head swam with distorted shapes, colours, all of which blended into a painful vortex of surreal motion. He did not know how long he sat in that cold prison of aluminum and steel, only that some hours later he was roughly shoved into a damp, black room where he was beaten with truncheons until he was knocked unconscious. Grimacing, he rubbed the bruises that ran along his limbs and chest, wincing at the painful injuries.

The mirror flipped up into the wall, revealing a passageway.

A tall, thin man wearing a crisply pressed pinstriped suit and slacks strode through, accompanied by two bodyguards who looked identical to each other. The latter raised their submachine guns at Kurakama in an single, eeriely fluid, motion.

“Put those toys away, gentlemen. You're scaring our guest.” snapped the interrogator, and with machinelike precision the soldiers laid their weapons to their sides.

Kurakama stared. The interrogator had slightly bulging eyes behind thick, horn-rimmed glasses. Almost totally non-descript, it seemed to the prisoner that this strange man would disappear the moment he looked away. His appearance was deathly pale; he radiated a sick sense of twisted evil that made Kurakama turn away in instinctive fear. That was a mistake; the two guards instantly drew their nightsticks and menaced towards the cowering prisoner.

“Please sir! Help me!” screamed the prisoner he weakly raised his arms to ward off a coming rain of blows.

The interrogator merely looked at his watch boredly as his guards beat a frail Kurakama about the head and shoulders for exactly one minute and fifteen seconds; they pummeled the detainee thoroughly enough to break his nose, leaving a putrid trail of blood and tears running down his pitted face. But such was standard operating procedure when it came to dealing with political prisoners of the Militaristic Federation of Tyrandis. First, he had to break their spirits through fear of the cudgel; then, when the time came, he rebuilt him to a functioning member of society. It was horrifying, even inhuman perhaps, a job which would drive lesser men mad. But total ruthlessness and loyalty to the country that raised him repressed whatever emotion Warrant Officer 1st Class Kentaro Hayashibara would have felt for the quivering victim sprawled before him; his utter lack of pity and restraint ensured a comfortable position in the Tyrandis National Intelligence Agency.

With a snap of his fingers, Hayashibara had the guards force Kurakama into a sitting position on the bench. Dazed and weeping, Kurakama buried his head in his hands, begging for mercy.

This, he would sadly not find.

Hayashibara slapped him with a black-gloved hand, and wiped the blood on the prisoner's jumpsuit. “GET UP! And stop crying or else I'll have Sato here shoot your ass, Mr. Kurakama.” He gestured to the guard on his left, who instantly drew up his SMG and pulled the bolt back. Kurakama stopped, though his eyes were wide with terror. All sound in the room died.

The interrogator took a seat across from the terrified prisoner. “Now, Mr. Kurakama, can you please tell me about yourself? Do it quickly, or Sato-chan here will, how do the peasants say... yes, 'Bust a cap in your fat ass.'” Hayashibara was rewarded with name, ancestry, birth, and occupation. The prisoner was a middle manager at Tyrandis Precision Machine Import Export Corporation, responsible for procurement of small arms for the Federation Army.

“Hm. How much did you make as an executive?” asked Hayashibara in a flat monotone.

“My pay grade stipulated $250,000 per annum, sir.” responded Kurakama in a shaking voice that tottered between another breakdown and coherence.

“A fine, fine sum.” smiled the interrogator mirthlessly. “Now, then, Kurakama,” continued Hayashibara, “why would one of your lofty station in life join those deranged cultists in the 'New Glory Movement'? And even worse, provide guns and ammunition to those hated enemies of our Federation?”

The prisoner's eyes widened. “No, sir-ARGH!” He recoiled in pain from the blow Hayashibara delivered from a gloved hand.

“Don't try and deny it,” intoned Hayashibara in a low, threatening voice, “we have photographs and affidavits from the subhuman wretches you gave weapons to. It is not a question of “if” you have committed a capital offense against the Federation, it is a question of “how”. The method in which you answer, Mr. Kamakura, will determine if you are sentenced to a labor camp of mild regimen, in which you will pay for your sins against the nation through the sweat of your brow, or one of severe regimen, where you will suffer corporally to atone.”

Kamakura hacked another cough, spitting up blood. “Please sir, I only joined New Glory because-”

Hayashibara raised his hand to cut off the sniveling prisoner. “I have heard these excuses before, from the last batch of delusional animals we arrested last week. Equality, freedom, and bread for all, so sayeth the great prophet Banimaru-san, as long as you forfeit your property, join the fucking communes, and protest against the Man. I do not care for this ideological masturbation. What I want to know is why one of your stature in the Tyrandisan social structure chose to help those mongrels in Akkida Prefecture. Day by day, they continue their wretched campaign of terror and violence, riling up the contented masses to call for secession from our grand Federation in the name of New Glory.”

Kamakura struggled to breathe, let alone respond. “It is true, Hayashibara-san, that I gave several shipments of weapons to the freedom fighters in Akkida Prefecture, but all I wanted to do was make a quick buck. I-”

Hayashibara silenced him with a wave of his hand. “Again, you lie. We have recovered many documents about your subversion and entanglement in the affairs of New Glory, damning files that outline your support for years of that vile organization.” The interrogator pulled up a paper from a manila folder, and changed his voice to a false, mocking tenor. “Let us look at this piece of propaganda you were found in possession of. 'The police state fascism of the Tyrandisan Federation has for too long taken food from the mouths of our children for guns to keep our people in line! New Glory will bring hope and liberty from the despotism! Death to the Autocrat and her lapdogs! May Banimaru live to see Akkida free!'”

Kamakura's eyes widened perceptibly, even as the harsh light burned his retinas. He was trapped, and he knew it. He wept and fell to his knees, blood streaming from his gaping wounds. “Forgive me! I have committed treason against the Federation, and my life is forfeit. I will tell you everything you wish to know, just please don't hurt me anymore.” He whimpered audibly as Hayashibara kicked the prostrate prisoner. “Cur. You are not deserving of the Lady Autocrat's mercy, but she grants it unconditionally. Should you satisfy our questions,” spoke the interrogator in a softer tone, “you will be duly sentenced for your crimes against the Tyrandisan nation. Be warned, should you continue to lie in the prescence of our undeserved mercy, you will be punished most... severely.” On that note, the warrant officer glided out of the cell, rubber heels cracking against the concrete floor.

OOC: All of this is secret IC, although unconfirmed reports of unrest and secessionist rumblings in Akkida Prefecture [population 1 bn] will be known by most foreign states with ties to Tyrandis.

Akkida City, Capital of Akkida Prefecture

The convoy of vehicles trundled down a wide boulevard, comprised of fifteen up-armored police APCs and a few utility vehicles carrying riot control equipment. As they rolled over the black-tar pavement, their passengers noted the massive piles of debris and rubbish that lined the street, blocking off whole lanes in what used to be a gleaming highway of commerce. Now though, the passage was silent, decrepit; an aura of melancholy hung palpably in foetid air.

One of those passengers, Officer Shirogane Tsuyoshi, shivered beneath his layers of kevlar coverings as a cold breeze chilled his bones. He was manning the tear-gas grenade launcher on the second vehicle in the line. He could still remember the panicked voice of the chief of his district during briefing, some five hours ago. The seat of prefectural government in Akkida was under siege; there were almost one hundred thousand subversives and malcontents marching under the flag of New Glory, descending on the facility in a swarm of filth. "Like a den of vermin," was the phrase the chief used when describing the spectacle.

While this outbreak would usually merit little more than increased surveillance measures, analysis of aerial photographs collected by TNIA indicated that the mob was armed and dangerous. It was evident that at least a quarter of the protestors were carrying military grade small arms, weapons that Akhito Kurakama had diverted to New Glory's arsenal. The rest were armed with a mishmash of improvised melee weapons. All of the demonstrators were chanting a single slogan in lockstep, “Liberty and Glory for Free Akkida!” The mission was simple; to end the protest and repossess many, many weapons the treachery of one man had lost.

As the relief expedition closed in on the unruly crowds in downtown Akkida City, Tsuyoshi zeroed his weapon unconsciously, and flicked the safety off. He could see and hear the throngs over the horizon now, a raucous cacophony drowning out the low rumble of the armored personnel carrier's diesel engine. The protestors flooded the streets in a massive wave, erecting a barricade with their bodies. They were obviously agitated; Tsuyoshi's eyes narrowed on one man in particular, a clean-cut college student who was hurling abuse at the convoy. Draped across the protestor's blazer was a cardboard sign bearing the phrase “NO OIL FOR TYRANTS” daubed in red paint, as well as a looted DR-83 assault rifle. He was obviously a leader of the rabble, decided the young policeman, as evidenced by the way he directed the mob. Meanwhile, riot control squads dismounted from their vehicles, a horde of leather boots stampeding towards the sea of armed and agitated protestors. They formed a shield wall in a formation that evoked the ancient testudo of the Roman legion; except in this case, the barbarians had firearms.

A grizzled sergeant climbed out of the hatch of the lead APC, bearing a bullhorn. Calmly, his electronically amplified voice echoed through the street. “Attention protestors,” intoned the man tonelessly as the crowd jeered, “By executive order of the Lady Autocrat, this demonstration is to be ended immediately. Further, all persons found to be in possession of looted military equipment will be arrested unless such property is returned to our custody immediately.” His message was met by the student Tsuyoshi noticed earlier, who bellowed out a rejoinder nearly as loud. “Fuck you, Federal pig. In the name of Prophet Banimaru, we will not stop until every last vestige of your unjust rule is destroyed in Akkida! We will no longer tolerate the Federation's looting of our petrol to feed the very army that grinds us in oppression. We will not be silenced! We will not be stopped! Death to the Autocrat!” With that last phrase, the nearest riot control officer drew his truncheon and broke the line, rage flickering in his eyes. “Ungrateful patchouli bathing motherfucker!” roared the burly officer as he hefted his plastic bludgeon. With one blow, he sent the protestor sprawling to the ground, to the angry shouts of the mob.

It seemed like an eternity to Tsuyoshi. One moment, he was watching a riot slowly escalate; the next, the sergeant who manned the bullhorn in front of him was down, killed by a shot that left a spray of red blood dripping from a hole in his chest. Instinctively, Shirogane Tsuyoshi turned his grenade launcher onto the crowd, the recoil from every shot minimal as he peppered the mob with his potent riot control agents. The tear gas seemed only to enrage them, however; they began to advance towards the police line, weapons drawn, in a disorderly rush. The riot police held their ballistic shields tightly and drew service revolvers, firing into the crowd out of training and mostly hatred; they were met with scattered gunfire that pinged relentlessly against the ceramic of their shields, and a human wave of ravening protestors. The line began to bend as officers fell one by one; a general retreat was ordered, as the rear lines headed back to the APCs in an orderly fashion, all while the low whump of gas grenades went off in the background.

Tsuyoshi could see most of the targets he hit collapse to the ground, choking. He was out of ammunition, and closed up the hatch to deter any sniper fire. The first riot police were returning to the vehicle now, eyes bloodshot and exhausted. “Sergeant Keroya,” noted the grenadier, “are you alright?” “I will be fine, once we get the hell out of here with backup. It's a damn good thing we have these APCs. Aircraft-grade alumnium and steel laminate skirts; these babies can withstand thirty three mike-mike or a surprise hearing on police brutality,” smiled the shaken man in front of Tsuyoshi. Active Denial Systems mounted on the escorting utility vehicles were now turning the crowd back as the convoy evacuated. The sensation of having one's skin set ablaze was enough to deter even the most ardent fanatic, after all.

As the police began to return to their vehicles, several enterprising New Glory fighters were setting up five hundred meters away, on the rooftop of a long-abandoned office building. They had a mission, and it was simple; to show the pigs the consequences of resisting Prophet Banimaru. The Tagus Anti Tank Missile system, manufactured under license from Kriegzimmer, was incredibly potent and simple to operate; before Kurakama was burned by Tyrandis's National Intelligence Agency, the movement found themselves in possession of thousands of these devices. The operator of the command launch unit sighted their target, one of the riot control vehicles that was fleeing with its proverbial tail between its legs. He locked the sights on it, and was rewarded with a steady beep that indicated the missile had the target acquired. With a grin on his face, he squeezed the trigger.

The massive tandem warheads of the Tagus were enough to sign the death warrants of the thirteen men in the lead transport, ripping through the paper-thin armor like a knife through butter. The burning wreckage of their vehicle created an artificial roadblock, forcing Tsuyoshi's driver to slam on the brakes. The retreat of the convoy was now paralyzed, while more and more missile teams emerged from their positions in a classic ambush. It was a massacre, as police dismounted from their now-vulnerable armor and prepared to retreat on foot through the back alleys. "I thought you fucking said we were safe!" shouted Tsuyoshi as he rushed out the escape hatch behind the sergeant. The veteran began to respond, but his answer was cut short by a stray bullet ripping through his kneecap. Screaming in pain, Tsuyoshi dragged the heavily armored cop into a back alley. The noise of gunfire, shouts from the mob, and clipped commands from the police mingled into a hellish symphony of death beneath a black sky...

Office of the Lady Autocrat

"Good afternoon, Your Excellency," said a chorus of voices as Kurumi Hamazaki walked through a set of enormous blast doors. The business of the assembly in Tyrandis Central Command, otherwise known as the Lotus Room for its many references to that elegant flower in its design and trappings, was simple: an impending secession of Akkida Prefecture. Whisperings and rumors of the massacre in Akkida City had already been disseminated by the propaganda machine of New Glory, despite the best efforts of TNIA to interdict the damning information. Hamazaki's thoughts were muddled, confused; how could one crackpot and his followers incite so much unrest and dissent in her Federation? Talk of secession from the umbrella of Tyrandis was a manifest threat that she simply could not tolerate. Her concerns and frustrations marred her face visibly, as her councilors and advisers noted. This meeting would only aggravate those fears.

Hamazaki had been prebriefed, and after a sip of water, she turned to the Director of the Tyrandis National Intelligence Agency. “Otsuka Goji, please begin your presentation for us.” The short, portly man nodded and motioned to his aide, who rose from his seat.

“Thank you, Excellency. Ladies and gentlemen,” began Goji nervously as he stroked his wispy beard, “something very dire has come up which demands our immediate reaction.” He waved to his aide, Warrant Officer Kentaro Hayashibara, who handed out manila folders to those assembled. Inside were supplementary documents that highlighted the history and rise of the New Glory Movement in Akkida Prefecture.

This was not particularly new or interesting; everyone knew the story of how Akio Nomura, an accomplished oilman, founded a radical cult and donned the name Banimaru, quickly spreading his brand of faith to restless and unhappy citizens of Akkida Prefecture. The papers detailed their general beliefs, which were a synthesis of the ideas of Eduard Bernstein's revisionist marxism with pseudo-religious apocalyptic doctrines generated from Banimaru himself. More documents outlined New Glory's extremely wide variety of operations, from evangelizing to black-market arms purchases, all of which were financed by Banimaru's vast oil wealth. What hung over those in the Lotus Room most of all, however, was the final page in the sheaf of papers – a letter penned by Banimaru himself, received just one hour ago.

Hamazaki looked up when she finished reading it. Rubbing her temples, the Lady spoke in a hard, cold voice. “This is madness.” “Who does this lunatic think he is?” was the shout of another, less temperate individual. Goji nodded emphatically. “Indeed, Lady Hamazaki.”

The outrage was predictable, but remarkably muted, thought the director of Tyrandis's feared intelligence service. Amazement now replaced fury in Hamazaki's voice. “Does this Banimaru feel invulnerable? Does he not know there are consequences for threatening secession?”

“My analysts feel that his intent is deadly serious, Your Excellency. They estimate that he believes in his own deranged lies, that his band of fanatics can defeat the Militaristic Federation's legions on the field of battle and in the hearts of the people to 'win freedom for the people of Akkida'. While it is certain, my lady, that the former is blatantly untrue, it is the belief of the National Intelligence Agency that New Glory may very well prevail in the court of public opinion.”

“If it is a struggle he wants, perhaps our Armed Services should indulge him...” said General Daisuke Yashimoto, commander in chief of the Federation's ponderous war machine. The way his voice trailed off chilled even the Lady Autocrat's blood. Goji responded with a swift rejoinder. “Honored General,” he began hesitantly, “you must understand that these insurgents cannot be dealt with in the manner prescribed by our field manuals. Deluded and traitorous they may be, those who follow New Glory are still Tyrandisans, and wholesale slaughter could very well drive more malcontents into Banimaru's festering arms.” He added in a delicate tone, “We must also consider the international consequences of wholesale repression.”

“Then what do you recommend, Otsuka-san?!” roared Yashimoto, his face livid with anger. “Do we wait and watch as one sixth of our nation are transformed into ravening fanatics? Do we shatter the faith the other five-sixths hold in our government and stability? You yourself mentioned the diplomatic repercussions of forcibly ending the standoff. If Banimaru is to be believed, his message has already been circulated around the inter-fucking-national community. Soon, we'll have hordes of nosy foreigners sticking their faces in where they aren't wanted.” The general slammed a beefy fist onto the table. “We already know New Glory is armed with military grade equipment, the civilian police have experienced their bite. Hundreds of good officers lie dead, their corpses rotting in the goddamn streets, and we can't even retrieve the bodies because the rebels toppled the prefectural government!”

Hamazaki grinded her teeth in displeasure. “General Yashimoto, please restrain yourself. We must take decisive action against the malcontents, but all consequences should be considered.”

The only other woman at the table rose to speak. “My Lady, perhaps we can take action against the agitators without creating an international uproar?” said Hitomi Mikazawa, Director of the Department of Foreign Affairs. She continued softly, “Announce military exercises. Declare an exclusion zone for two hundred miles off the coastline, and send limited naval assets to enforce a de facto blockade.” Mikazawa motioned to the now-calm Yashimoto. “Further, we will announce a public deployment of troops on manuever exercises. We will issue these men secret orders to evacuate those still loyal to the Federation to temporary internment camps, where they will be held for the duration of the conflict. Our forces will have the ultimate objective of reinstalling Federation control of Akkida Prefecture. My own Department will ensure that all news of this mess will be heavily censored for both foreign and domestic consumption.”

“This sounds all well and good,” spoke Yashimoto, “but you are forgetting something. With the recent unrest in Akkida Prefecture, our oil supplies are nearly exhausted. All critical production facilities have been lost to rebel hands; although we have made inroads on acquiring several thousand barrels from exporters, I estimate that our economy will be crippled within two months unless the spigot is turned back on. Deployment of the necessary assets to reinstate control over Akkida may stretch our limited fuel supplies to the breaking point.” Hamazaki raised her hand. “I see the wisdom in Director Mikazawa's plan, but I take note of your concerns, Yashimoto-san. The Federation of Tyrandis shall purchase crude secretly from any seller willing to keep quiet; further, our Department of Foreign Affairs should begin the theorized disinformation campaign. General Yashimoto, you are ordered to draw up and execute a war plan with the objective of taking back Akkida Prefecture while minimizing civilian casualties. Dismissed!”

A dark cloud hung over the thoughts of all assembled as they dispersed; it was the elephant in the room that none of the men or women wished to acknowledge. They had just witnessed the beginning of a civil war...

[OOC: Ok folks, time to get this show on the road!

Recap:

Akkida Prefecture, one of the six major administrative divisions in the Militaristic Federation of Tyrandis, is convulsed in civil unrest. 2/3s of Akkida's 1 bn population are members of the New Glory Movement, a pseudo-religious cult that demands independence from the repression of the Tyrandisan Federation. A recent demonstration by the NGM ended in bloodshed as hundreds of police were ambushed by the movement's fighters and killed.

Akio Nomura, otherwise known as Banimaru, has authored a letter pleading for support against the tyrannical and oppressive regime of the Federation. He is especially appealing to all democratic and socialist countries to support his New Glory Movement's struggle for independence. Funded by Nomura's oil profits, they've got plenty of manpower and dollars, but lack weapons.

The Federation is led by the iron-fisted oligarchy of Tyrandis Central Command, much like the Politburo of the Soviet Union or Maoist China. Lady Autocrat Kurumi Hamazaki is first among equals. Their objective is to restore law and order in the Prefecture at any cost; after all, Akkida is the only domestic source of crude oil that Tyrandis has.

Foreign governments will know that Banimaru and his NGM intends secession, but the official line from TCENTCOM will be that everything's fine and dandy, just a few malcontents and loonies being stupid.]

ooc: Tag ye.

[OOC- Civil wars are fun. Expect a response from me.]

Imperial Intelligence Agency
CAD Division

A career intelligence man stared at his screen as images from the Akkida province of the Militaristic Federation. Riots, fighting, and death appeared in most of them, the resolution of the cameras picturing the name brand on a knife a rioter was carrying in one image. The crisis in Akkida prefecture had been known, vaguely, to the IIA as it developed, but as all-out warfare between state police and New Glory rioters became known, the IIA took a much more active interest. Space assets were being put over Tyrandis and Akkida Prefecture, the prime force being an Imperial Gorgon-O model. The Imperial Democracy had a vested interest in keeping Tyrandis whole and proper - the Militaristic Federation was a massive market for Whyatican goods, as well as a military ally through the Alliance for the Preservation of Civilization. The loss of a sixth of it's population, as well as the vast majority of it's oil reserves would have a devastating effect on the Tyrandisian economy, as well as having a great impact on the Imperial business assets within Tyrandis.

A classified report was sent to the higher ranks, detailing that "The integrity of the Militaristic Federation must be held.", and "Military intervention in Akkida Prefecture is advisable, however, Imperial fighting men stretched too far to do much good. Estimate need of an army group to hold Akkida and destroy the insurgency."

One other important recommendation of the report, "Recommend beginning immediate, covert sales of crude oil from Arabia to M-Federation, otherwise economy failure imminent in MF."

Once the higher-ups read the report, they immediately drafted an encrypted communication to the Militaristic Federation, essentially detailling that the Imperial Democracy knew of their oil needs, and was willing to provide them with the needed crude for regular market price, in secret.

Foreign Intelligence and Clandestine Operations Agency Headquarters
Wrynn, Federal District, Juumanistra

“You might want to see this,” Daniel Hutchins, one of the Foreign Intelligence and Clandestine Operations Agency’s myriad intelligence analysts, said as he handed a case file to his boss, one Director Michael Stoppard. Stoppard was clearly less-than-enthused: FICOA was up to its eyeballs in crises at the moment and he had little patience for yet another one. Especially one pertaining to a state that Juumanistra considered at the extreme periphery of her interests.

“I also might want to be on the beaches of West Brighton sipping margaritas,” Director Stoppard snorted, flipping through the case file Hutchins had handed him. “Doesn’t mean it’s actually going to happen. Civil wars are a dime a dozen in this crazy world, after all.”

“True enough,” Hutchins nodded, “but how often do they have positive spillover effects for us?”

“Tyrandis ain’t exactly a major threat to us, kiddo,” the Director snorted, “we maintain no official diplomatic contacts and, were it not for a few vacationing law-and-order nutjobs who’re infatuated with its Politburo, I’d daresay we’d have no contacts with them all.”

“Not directly, I suppose, but her exports do,” Hutchins countered flatly. “She’ll sell to anyone with cash – her aircraft are in the service of various Gholgoth nations and Tyrandian-designed bombers have reportedly been spotted in the skies over Kahanistan.”

“And that would make the President’s day,” Stoppard smiled merrily at the thought of what the President’s reaction would be. “He’s been up my ass about doing something to support Kahanistan that didn’t involve Juuman ships and planes heading abroad. Fate may well have just given me the proverbial rabbit to pull out of my hat.”

“And you said you weren’t interested,” Hutchins chuckled smugly. “Who knows, Chief, next you might say that hiring those ImEx contractors was a good idea.”

“One step at a time,” Stoppard furrowed his brow in discontent at Hutchins as he closed the case file, “one step at a time. You might want to sheath that rapier wit and get back to work. I, on the other hand, have got a Cabinet to brief.”

And, with that rather glib entrance, Juumanistra found herself involved in the Tyrandian Civil War.

*=*=*=*

To: Banimaru
From: The Office of the Director of the FICOA Clandestine Operations Service
Subject: Material aid
The RSDJ has taken note of your actions against the Tyrandisian Federation and applauds you and your movement’s attempt to achieve self-determination. To that effect, the RSDJ is willing to offer substantive amounts of material and financial assistance to your cause, in the form of arms, credit, and food aid. To this effect, the RSDJ has amassed a shipment of arms that is currently in-transit and should be arriving as you receive this. The shipment contains the following in the way of arms and equipment:

Arms Shipment
-750,000 TA2R.4/68 assault rifles
-400,000 G44 10.2mm SMGs
-28,000 G84 8mm LMGs
-4,000 G102 13.6mm HMGs
-6,000 G78 13.6mm AMATRs
-2,500 G178 23.8mm autocannons
-9,500 G243 85mm RRs
-8,800 G217 68mm mortars
-3,500 G256 85mm automatic mortars
-1,600 G261 102mm automatic mortars
-1,200 G344 Lancet ATGM launchers
-3,000 G326 Thunderhoof ATGM launchers
-6,000 G415 Schneider MANPADS
-68,000 G1004 GPHE land mines
-248,000 G1019 Nibblet ankle-biter AP mines
-94,000 G1012 Spiker anti-armor mines
-1,000,000 D4A3 personal radios
-150,000 D4F2 composite GPS receivers
-85,000 D4B1 satellite phones
-75,000 D4C5 military-grade laptops
-56,000 D4D4 digital battlefield telephones
-38,000 D4G8 digital backpack radios
-8,000 Hippogriff backpack UAVs and receivers
-500,000 G909 flak jackets
-500,000 G902 steel helmets

Further, the Juumanistran government will extend and underwrite $40,000,000,000 USD in credit for the New Glory Movement and, should the Movement find capable situations and circumstances, is willing to commence shipments of food and medical supplies, as well as heavier equipment and more weaponry of the types outlined above pursuant to the needs of the NGM.

[OOC: Interesting indeed. Nice post, Tyrandis!]

OOC: Here's a in-progress map of the region. I'll do geographical features later, but suffice to say that most of the region is desert. Major population centers are near the lakes due to water proximity.

http://img489.imageshack.us/img489/6682/betamapvi4.png

Yes, this is a glorified bump for views >_>

The SB-22 Sariel bomber. It was a Tyrandis designed, and in the case of 200 of the airframes built, aircraft that was serving with notable distinction in the IHAF amongst many others. The bomber had become key to IHAF doctrine and in particular the deep strike missions that were used to grind the enemies land forces to a halt through lack of supplies or by bleeding relief units dry before they could be committed. The advanced technology used on the Sariel was licensed from the Tyrandis Precision Machine Import/Export Corporation to the J Corp Military Aeronautics Division.

J Corp itself was a huge corporate entity, mostly operating within the Kingdom of the Midlands but with some interests and assets in other countries across the globe. The first attempt at a Private Security Division had lead to some vital experience being gained in the nation of Londim, where J Corp contractors fought against the Pudite invasion for sometime before being withdrawn. The Corporation kept a reasonable amount of soldiers on as its security personnel in particularly dangerous areas as well as guarding sensitive sites that needed protection from corporate espionage as well as more conventional attacks. As such they were quite prepared for taking up contracts which the government couldn’t be seen to be responsible for and the Tyrandis situation was just such an event.

As the Air Force relied so heavily upon the SB-22 it was out of the question for the government to sanction any kind of military action in support of the democratic movement. It was yet another situation where economic ties and military vulnerabilities left the Hitmen unable to fulfill their ideological aims. So in effect they used a proxy. J Corp was a domestic firm and so the funds that were paid to them for the mission were covered simply as defence contracts or through various Intelligence Agency equipment purchases that were vastly more than they should have been.

The J Corp Board of Directors weren’t just interested in the money they were being paid by the government; they were interested in other positive outcomes and rewards that could be gained from this little intervention. Access to Tyrandis Precision Machine Import/Export Corporation plants and research materials as well as samples of their products could be obtained, engineered and sold as J Corp’s own. This Banimaru chap would be the way for J Corp to get what they wanted whilst possibly providing him the situation that he wanted, a free Akkida. But the J Corp planners weren’t stupid, they would pretend to be helping him, indeed actually help him, until they had gotten as much as they could from the province.

It was with this in mind that an initial team of thirty five men were dispatched to the province. It would have been wise for the Tyrandis government to shut down and blockade the place as much as possible as quickly as possible, especially now that this message was open to the worlds ever interventionalist nations to hear and respond to. So time was of the essence for the unmarked C-17 Globemaster aircraft that carried the men and their quick ready equipment sets to a small airfield that had been hastily picked out.

The spacious hold of the aircraft could accommodate over a hundred armed men and so there was plenty of space for spare equipment, man portable surface to air missiles, Hyn Anti-Tank missiles, machine guns, automated chain guns and numerous other pieces of kit littered the floor in crates and packing boxes. The thirty five men, most of whom were Hitmen but five were former Stevidian SAS and two were from the Kingdom Marines, were kitted in no descript fatigues and standard issue army boots. Their personal kit showed the differences in approach, some being armour heavy and others relying on simple load-bearing vests to carry their equipment. All of them had their own personal weapons and sidearms, of which some carried two or even three, and the men were trained on the personal radio systems that they carried. Satellite phones and radios were another big item on the list of kit that they had to have with them and they were present in abundance along with GPS and laptops to get satellite support. Most of the IH network had either been built or put into orbit with J Corp assistance so the programmers knew how to “borrow” the feed from them when it was needed and then channel it across the Corporations own satellites to the men on the ground. Of course the procedure could be simply reversed to send data, such as blueprints, back to the J Corp R&D facilities in the USIH.

The team leader was a thirty eight year old IH Special Forces veteran who had left with the rank of Major, a title he still used when it was convenient. He was using one of the laptops and had it hooked up to the satellite grid through the satellite phone resting next to him and was checking the airfield using one of the “borrowed” feeds. It all looked reasonable enough, the thermal cameras only picking up seven or eight heat sources that the computer classified as human lifesigns. The cluster around another heat source suggested that at least four were working on an aircraft engine whilst the others appeared to be in, what the graphical overlay said, was the tower. He would continue to watch the place throughout the flight and look for signs that Banimaru’s representatives had arrived to greet them, or indeed screw them. If the latter looked likely they would simply not land and continue to the loyal parts of Tyrandis with some form of excuse about the weapons on board.

In the cockpit the pilot turned the aircraft so that it came up into the commercial air route that took them over Akkida and within ten miles of their destination. His radar transponder was now turned on and if challenged the aircraft would merely say that they were a commercial airline flight heading for Automagfreek. That no Hitmen had been to Automagfreek for a long time wouldn’t be known to the person on the other end of the radio, or so he hoped.

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http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y10/68157Silver/zukariaanemblemblue.png
Official Message
TO: Lady Autocrat Kurumi Hamazaki
FROM: Kaiser Konrad II
RE: Civil War

While we find it rather pathetic that your government has let it's own people turn against it and sieze a seat of government in your nation, we refuse to choose a side to support in this conflict. Neither side seems worthy of our support, and so we simply say that in the future your government should not be so weak as to allow such a thing to happen again, should it be victorious.
Signed, the Kaiser
Kaiser of the Zukariaan Empire

WTI WorldCenter, Wesyln, Dominion of Oltremare

WorldTech Industries, one of the largest corporations in existence, always knew a good situation when it presented itself. Their instinct for sniffing out opportunity was almost legendary and now it would be showcased again. RAFIS, the military intelligence body, passed on to the company information about the growing civil instability in Tyrandis. Upwards of a billion "loyal citizens" threatened to become insurgents and the Militaristic Federation's crude oil stores were no longer accessible to the established government; as the old Hamptonian proverb says "Find joy in others' suffering". In that spirit WTI's long-serving Chairman and CEO assembled top division heads to discuss the new "Tyrandis Situation".

---


"I trust you have all browsed the information," WTI CEO Sir Clyde Thurborne said while pacing the length of the long conference table, "and have read RAFIS's recommendations as well as those of my office."

The assembled division presidents and vice presidents mumbled amongst themselves. The recommendations outlined a massive package of private sector loans matched by money directly from the Federal Government. Aside from getting the Lady Autocrat's government cold, hard cash the package also highlighted the nation's desperate need for crude petroleum. Current foreign suppliers couldn't match the new need and even if they could, the government and economy did not have enough liquid capital to fully finance the developing binge of oil imports if the civil war lasted for any measurable amount of time. Simply put, without assistance Tyrandis would run itself dry.

Thurborne raised his hand to stop the numerous side conversations and continued his short presentation. "The Foreign Office and the Department of Commerce and Transport are asking those in the energy sector to divert current excess capacity to Tyrandis. They are even willing to open up the Strategic Petroleum Reserve to get the ball rolling. Our internal projections, and those assembled by the Trade Office, show that Hamptonian oil can fill over 85% of Militaristic Federation's current wartime need. WTI alone fills over 50% of that need."

Mark Safa, President of WTI Financial, took the opportunity to voice his concerns, "Sir Clyde, would I be right to assume that the Federation will only be able to afford the extent of petroleum purchases with aggressive financial assistance? More specifically, how much money is being lent to sustain the oil importation scheme?"

"That depends, Mr. Safa, and what level of assistance the Lady Autocrat accepts; but let me make this clear, ladies and gentlemen, aside from the government's plan to purchase Tyrandian bonds this is a private business operation. The offer that the Minister of State for Trade will place on the table will be enough to keep the entire government solvent as well as fund their oil imports. "

"Just Hamptonian oil or all of their oil?"

"The plan is to give them the opportunity to fund it all. There is a level of risk in this enterprise, as there is in all business, but the current government will almost prevail."

Several division heads all spoke at once, "If they don't?"

"The collateral we will secure should be enough to recuperate any major losses and due to the diplomatic nature of this operation the Federal Government is willing to cover a percentage of any incurred losses. We are also working on some..." Thurborne drew the word out for emphasis, "other plans. The Board of Directors has already approved the plan and the Senator Faulkner is already in the air on his way to see the Lady Autocrat. He will place our foot in the door."

[The Minister of State for Trade is Senator Beathan Faulkner (Independent Progressives)]

An Airport in Tyrandis

The three men wearing suits had all stepped aboard the civilian aircraft at its refueling stop in Vizion and had taken their seats in the first class compartment without fuss for the trip to Tyrandis. Two carried briefcases whilst the third carried two medium sized bags that were put into the overhead locker’s.

After an uneventful flight they were amongst the first passengers to alight from the jet at the airport terminal and they proceeded through towards the passport check point. There was a small queue and they waited patiently until they were faced with a stern looking man demanding their passport and bags for a brief search. All three men reached into their pockets and brought out IH diplomatic passports, opening them to the official and holding them infront of them.

“We have diplomatic immunity. I can confirm out of kindness that we do not have any items deemed illegal in your country, simply clothes and a pair of laptop computers. Now if you don’t mind we have a rental car to pick up.”

The official looked slightly perplexed, but after calling his supervisor over and the passports being visually checked the three men were allowed to go on, probably now carrying a Tyrandis security service escort who would be curious as to what they were doing. As they exited the terminal building they proceeded to a concourse where they saw the vehicle that had been purchased by J Corp for them, a new Audi RS4 in shining red paint. The men were actually not from the IH State Department as the passports proclaimed, rather they were J Corp employees from the same subsection as those about to enter the country via another aircraft. All three carried sidearms in shoulder and belt holsters but they were only for personal protection if the worst came to the worst. Their primary mission was reconnaissance, specifically finding out just what the conditions inside Tyrandis were like and what chance the rebellion had of moving outside of Akkida and to the whole country. One briefcase was full of wads of cash for persuasion and the other held a laptop with built in satellite uplink for daily reports. Their cover would hold, the IH State Department was being helpful by saying that it did have operatives researching potential embassy sites in several nations with close economic ties to the Hitmen. They suspected it would be difficult to get the truth out of local citizens, but easy missions wouldn’t have been given to three IHIA Special Forces veterans. As the car powered out of the airport grounds onto a main road the two men in the front began watching their mirrors for tails whilst the third in the back activated his laptop to report their successful insertion.

Yuri rolled over, his arm was trapped. The weight on his arm breathed a sleepy sigh as he slowly pulled his trapped appendage from underneath. The woman, in her thirties was nothing special to look at, but was very important to Yuri. Or atleast who she worked for.

Moving slowly, the bed springs creaking, he placed both feet on the carpeted floor. His head craned over his shoulder, watching for reactions. There were none. Lifting his weight slowly from the bed he creeped through the doorway, and into her office. His finger proded the power button, enticing the machine to power on. Several minutes passed as he worked her password, then her bosses password, networking from machine to machine to machine. Several minutes of probing resulted in a satisfying folder with several word documents, spreadsheets, power-point presentations, and other information all in relation to the New Glory Movement and Akkida Prefecture. Saving it to a 8gb flash drive, he stood up from the chair; standing in the doorway leading to the bedroom was the woman. "Lina, I was just.. checking my email. Business and all that."

She cocked her head and studied his face. He presented a stonewall. Her facial features broke first; "Of course, of course. Come back to bed, you ready for round two?" He smirked in response as she trailed off back into the room.

As he entered the room was dark, but she was no where to be seen. He was now standing in the center; "Lina? Where did you go?" From the corner she lunged, combat knife in her hand. She was surprisingly nimble, her charge forcing the two back onto the bed, but certainly under different circumstances. She stradled him, knife inches from his throat. He struggled to keep the blade from ripping through his jugular. He was stronger than her for sure, but she had the advantage.

He rolled her over onto her back, she immediatly responded, wrapping her legs around his waist, squeezing tightly. Her theighs far more powerful then he remembered. He could feel the pressure on his kidneys, and knew he had to escape this painful embrace. He tried to throw a punch, but she rolled again, putting him on his back. She stabbed, hitting him just above the heart. Yuri bit his lip drawing more blood. She grinned as she lifted the blade again for another attempt. She came down full force, the blade digging into his stomach. He let out a muffled cry of agony. She stared him in the eyes, she had lifted the knife once more. She was going for gold, and this would be the last time. His energy was being sapped; his kidneys felt like they were going to explode, and his life blood was pouring from two places. He bit down on his back molar, releasing liquid adrenline. His pupils immediatly dilated, and he reached up and grabbed her wrist as it plunged down for the final stroke. Pulling her hand away, he came across hard with his right elbow, cracking against her jaw.

She was knocked back, but kept her grip with her powerful legs. He used all the power in his left arm and snapped her wrist as he threw another elbow. He flipped her and she was on her back again. He came down several times with his elbow repeatedly. She finally released her lock, and he fell backwards, grasping for air. He stood on shaking legs as she lunged again from the bed. He kicked, connecting with her midflight in the latisimus dorsi knocking her to the ground. He stumbled towards the doorway, holding the blood in from his stomach. He turned to see Lina grabbing a shotgun from beneath her bed. He immediatly dove for his coat hanging at the front door as a spray of buckshot splintered the wall. He reached into his coat and pulled out his M886 with attached silencer. He then moved into the kitchen preparing for Lina to round the corner.

She came around, knowing he was cornered. Trapped. She cocked the shotgun and kept it at her hip. She saw him briefly. Well; him and his pistol already raised at head height. In actuality the last thing she did see, was the supressed flash, then there was nothing. Yuri put another round in her head, then returned to the bedroom and quickly changed. He ran down the stairway to his vehicle in the parking lot. He would need to leave immediatly.