NationStates Jolt Archive

Metzuda, Kahanistan

Presidential Palace

Security Office

"Doomingsland?!" Lieutenant Colonel Mara Fulton sprayed a mouthful of extremely strong coffee all over her desk, numerous classified files, and General Tiberius Devidius, the director of Kahanistanian Military Intelligence, who had just told her about the transfer, without their knowledge, of over a thousand Kahanistanian government officials and thousands of their family members.

"Jesus Christ, is there anything we can do for them?" Fulton replied, regaining some semblance of her composure as General Devidius wiped the coffee off of his uniform. "The Doomies will kill them, horribly, and knowing them, it'll be on TV. For God's sake, I think Doomani TV makes it over here." Fulton's voice was shaking, out of anger, fear, and a dozen other emotions rolled into one.

"Ms. Levitt has already talked to the Transylvanians, they have absolutely no intention of helping us get them, they're allied with the Doomani. She's just sent a letter to the Whyatican government, she said the Doomani invaded at the request of the Whyaticans and the Whyaticans will have the power to influence the Doomani," replied General Devidius.

"Ms.... Levitt? Rachel Levitt? The Imperial Marine general? What idiot put her in the Ministry?" Fulton asked. It was one shock on top of another; she had arrived home from a prison island, been decorated with the Distinguished Service Cross and promoted from Major to Lieutenant Colonel for "constant vigilance resulting in the saving of 632 lives," finding out the fates of those who had not heeded her advice against boarding the Dominion planes, and now one of Kahanistan's most psycho bitches from Hell was Minister of Foreign Affairs? It boggled the mind.

"Yes, she was confirmed almost as soon as the Senate got back and learned what happened to their friends. And it's Republic Marines, now. They voted to change the name, they're making a lot of cosmetic changes to the government... we're called the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan and we have a new flag, motto, national animal... the works."

---

Official Announcement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Ministry of Foreign Affairs

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

To: Emperor Paulus Whyatica I

The Government of Kahanistan is in need of political assistance in retrieving some of our government officials.

We believe that as it was at your nation's request that the Doomani invaded us, you should assist us in getting back 1,213 Kahanistanian senators, over a third of our legislative body, who were extradited from the Dominion to Doomingsland; attempts to negotiate with the Dominion have already been attempted and rebuffed.

Therefore, as an ally of Doomingsland who, as far as we know, no longer considers itself at war with us, we request your assistance in retrieving these officials and other Kahanistanian prisoners of the Doomani now that hostilities are over, that they may not be killed.

Signed,
Rachel C. Levitt,
Minister of Foreign Affairs


---

New Sodom, eastern Kahanistan

The remnants of the Kahanistanian Republic Navy that had survived the war gathered at the new city. They consisted of mostly Isselmere-Nielander designs, with some indigenous vessels, Clan Smoke Jaguar arsenal ships, and a few old Russian ships; the total breakdown was two Royal Sovereign SDN's, two King Henry V class battleships, nine Emmanuel Goldstein class battleships, ten Firestorm III arsenal ships, thirteen Sianach destroyers, ninety Tichy submarines, five Kirovs, three Union carriers, six Nimitzes, and twenty-three Seawolf subs, plus the isolated support ship; the total fleet consisted of some sixty surface vessels and one hundred and twenty submarines.

Needless to say, this fleet was not well equipped to do battle with Doomingsland, nor did the government want to. Most of the crews were green, new recruits, and many were still seasick. Right now, the ships were merely being repaired as well as they could; the dreadnaughts here were left to rot, being used mainly as floating island command bases.

The Grand Imperium of Whyatica

The only way we will consider attempting to free the prisoners of the Doomani is if the Kahanistani government removes all ties with the government of Midlonia, a government that has threatened war with the Grand Imperium. We refuse to negotiate with those who are the friends of our enemies. It is also extremely unlikely that Caesar will even bother to negotiate for their release. We are no longer at war with the Kahanistani, but we will only move to the negotiating table if all ties with the Midlonian government are dropped.

Emperor Paulus I

Official Announcement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Ministry of Foreign Affairs

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To: Emperor Paulus Whyatica I

This goes beyond my authority as Minister of Foreign Affairs. However, I'll talk to someone in the Senate about possibly cutting ties with Midlonia.

This will be extremely difficult as they did reach out and save us from the Doomani in our hour of need, and some areas of our country are still unstable and lacking much basic infrastructure.

However, with the lives of a large number of our elected officials at stake, I believe that I can persuade many of the remaining senators to seek alternative sources of aid, such as possibly trade relations with Whyatica in the near future, in exchange for removing trade with Midlonia and remaining neutral in the conflict should it escalate to war; we are, after all, still in need of trade, a need currently filled by the Greater Kingdom.

Signed,
Rachel C. Levitt,
Minister of Foreign Affairs


---

Metzuda, Kahanistan

Senate Hall

"WHAT?!" Senate President Mohammed Hussein Abdullah thundered. He had just heard that the Foreign Ministry wanted to cut ties with Midlonia, which had just saved some six hundred million people from Doomani terrorist genocide.

"This is an outrage, a travesty! We would be no better than the Xirniumites if we so shat on our allies! This is the same mentality that had the last idiot MFA trying to hurt relations with Allanea, bowing to foreign pressure so as to improve relations abroad."

"Mr. Speaker," said Senator Nikolai Vorinov, who had also just returned from the Dominion, "this is about democracy, this is about protecting the lives of our elected officials. We can look elsewhere for aid, we have to look out for our nation's interests. We've already gotten a ton of military aid from the United Dominion of Transylvania, and we import much of our infrastructure from DMG as it is. We might secede from the Greater Kingdom, hell, I think that might please some of the nationalist elements here. I move we put it to a vote."

Confident that such a traitorous move would be shot down flat, Abdullah nodded, allowing the four hundred and twenty-six senators present to vote. Great was his shock when three hundred and nineteen voted for secession from the Greater Kingdom of Midlonia.

"Very well... the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan has... officially seceded from the Greater Kingdom. May God have mercy on us all."

Trembling, the Senate President sat down to rest and catch his breath.

Imperial Foreign Ministry
Office of Foreign Minister Daniel McKenzie
Foreign Minister McKenzie's computer beeped, signalling a fresh electronic message from the Intelligence Agency. The man was rushed as is - the Midlonia Crisis had caused him to work a zillion hours of overtime, and reports flooded his desk like the proverbial dam had burst - but this one had caught his interest.

After the joint Doomanum-Whyatican invasion of Kahanistan, Kahanistan had become a Midlonian protectorate on the far eastern region of Haven. As the Midlonia Crisis developed, the government took a close eye on the activities there, because in the minds of most military men, New Kahanistan was a large Midlonian aircraft carrier and would be treated as such. So when the new K'stani government asked for Whyatican help regarding their prisoners, Emperor Paulus made his now famous offer, and McKenzie approved it without looking.

Now that the K'stani had actually accepted, though, he had to figure out what he wanted to do in that regard. He never expected them to accept the offer, and he certainly didn't believe the Doomani would hand over the 1,200 former senators.

They're probably already dead he thought, looking through his computer for intelligence reports regarding the annexed Kahanistani territories, looking for any reference on the 1,200 senators.

After finding what he wanted, he began to compose a reply..

The Grand Imperium of Whyatica
We are pleased by the FHR's choice to secede from the Greater Kingdom, and if it is accepted, I will personally attend a conference regarding the future of relations between the FHR and Grand Imperium. We can also offer limited protection from reprisals by the Greater Kingdom, economic aid and military aid.

Foreign Minister Daniel McKenzie

Official Announcement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Ministry of Foreign Affairs

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

To: Foreign Minister Daniel McKenzie

The Government of Kahanistan accepts this offer. We can meet in Miana, Whyatica, or Metzuda, Kahanistan; the choice is yours.

Signed,
Rachel C. Levitt,
Minister of Foreign Affairs

The Grand Imperium of Whyatica

The diplomatic facilities of Venture Island are available, as well as an empty embassatorial slot within the Miana Embassy Block. We would prefer the conference to be on Venture Island, there is already a diplomatic delegation there, headed by Ambassador Leonard Briscoe. All Kahanistani diplomatic team members will have automatic diplomatic immunity upon entering Whyatican airspace.

(OOC: I hate RP'ing arrivals.)

The Kahanistanian Learjet landed on Venture Island, and two diplomats exited. One was a very tall, very muscular, very black man, dressed in a gray suit jacket with a tie and matching gray slacks. He appeared to have been a basketball player or some other athlete; he was about 6'6", in his 50's, and quite strong. He didn't look much like the talkative type. His head was shaved bald and he merely nodded to the Whyaticans.

The female diplomat with him was something else altogether. She was about 5'3", in her late 30's or early 40's, reasonably attractive; average weight and somewhat well-built, with short reddish-brown hair in a stereotypically lesbian haircut. She was in a strapless blue dress that emphasized her chest and hips, and appeared to be very outgoing. She smiled at the Whyatican politician and extended her hand.

"I'm Rachel Levitt, the Minister of Foreign Affairs," she said. "This is Dr. Cornelius Norwall, to be appointed Ambassador to Whyatica. Now, let's get started."

Norwall extended his hand to the Whyatican and nodded. "Pleased to meet you." He lowered his head to make eye contact with the Whyatican, as he was a very tall man.

Urbis Doomanus, Doomanum Superior, Imperium Doomanum

Maximus grinned broadly from the VIP box, standing and walking to the edge for all of the people to see. He was clad from the neck down in gleaming black ceremonial armor, the golden laural crowning his head; his pregnant wife, the Empress, sat upon her throne at the right hand of Caesar's throne.

The people roared as their beloved leader, a man considered to be nothing short of a living Saint, stood, scanning the stands of the Colleseum from where he was. It was magnificent: a massive stadium, housing over two-hundred thousand people surrounding an arena the size of six (American)football fields. Most of the lavish, guilded amphitheatre was carved entirely of marble. Elaborate carvings adorned nearly every surface of the Colleseum; it had been a multi-billion denarii project, a bill footed entirely by Maximus' father.

It had been nothing short of one of the largest-scale renovation projects ever taken by the Imperium: the original Colleseum, which had fallen into disrepair, was taken apart brick by brick. In its place rose the new, like a Phoenix, rising high into the heavens, taking up its rightful place in the skyline of Urbis Doomanus. Beneath the shell of antiquity that was the massive amphitheatre beat the heart of one of the most advanced structures built by man- the arena floor itself was capable of totally reshaping itself in a matter of minutes, something that had often struck visitors to the capital as a miraculous occurance. Even the walls themselves within the halls of them seemed to change often, displaying different advertisements; and yet, there were no flat-panel monitors visible, nor were there posters.

The Doomani saw such things to be primitive, a laughable antique of the past.

Raising his right hand, the crowd was almost instantaneously silenced. Grinning, he looked them over, the hundreds of thousands of proud Doomani arrayed before him. They were the lowliest of Plebs to the mightiest of Patricians; all had fallen into an awed hush as their beloved Emperor began to speak,

"Brothers and sisters, I come before you today in triumph. Once more have the mighty forces of Christendom cleansed the lands of the infidel; once more have we triumphed in Crusade," his growling voice was solemn, yet proud,

"Once more, the Holy City of Jeruselm, the place of Christ's life and death; the Holy City of Bethlehem, the place of Our Lord's birth; once more, these places are free of heathen oppresion! Brothers and sisters, the Children of the Lord have entered a new golden age!" he roared.

The response from the crowd was deafening; the uproarous cheering forced many of the slaves attending their masters to cover their ears for fear of their eardrums bursting from the sound eminating from the massive crowd, evidently totally captivated by their beloved Emperor.

Raising another hand, they were again silenced almost instantaneously.

"Today, we gather at this hallowed place to give thanks to the Lord our God, and to celebrate His victory over the non-believers. Let this be an example to those that would oppose the Will of God: in the face of the Wrath of the Lord, there can be no victory. From His eyes, there can be no escape, for He sees all; woe to the enemies of the Lord, for they shall be struck down by His Earthly servants."

At that moment, the center of the arena seemed to cave in as the sand began to pour into the ground; uproarous cheering once more consumed the arena as the festivities commenced. Rising up in place of the sand was a steel platform upon which stood a dozen miserable-looking condemned prisoners in tattered rags of clothing.

Kahanistani viewers of the program, which, of course, was being broadcast live like any other Doomani [blood] sports event, would recognize the prisoners as members of their former Senate. An electronic bell sounded, and the terrified senators scattered in every direction so that they might seek refuge from the impending slaughter.

In a massive circle around the arena, more sections of the arena caved in in preparation for the raising of platforms. Rising up in place of the gaps in the floor were more steel platforms; this time, sitting patiently while snarling menacingly upon them, were six Damnati Sabertooth Lions, which had been starved for the past week.

They were huge, vicious creatures, the smallest ones weighing in at over eight hundred pounds each and over eight feet long; they had quills resembling that of a porcubine, and massive, and a pair of razor-sharp fangs, extending downwards from their upper jaw in a manner resembling prehistoric sabertooth tigers, supplementing their three-dozen razor sharp teeth within their mouths. Their cruel red eyes stared menacingly towards their prey.

They let loose a holwing roar before dashing away from the platform towards the horrified senators, who could do nothing but run.

For the Doomani in the stands, watching these helpless people attempt to flee for their lives as they were chased down and eaten alive by vicious lions was great, great entertainment. The cheered as the first of the senators was siezed in the claws by one of the lions, which proceeded to dig its fangs into the poor man's gut, completely evicserating him and tearing him in half in a matter of seconds, sitting there as it proceeded to pick the flesh from the bone for a few minutes while its brothers and sisters moved on the others.

Maximus himself chuckled as another man was put down by one of the lions, which wrapped its jaws around his neck and tore his head off on one fell swoop before proceeding to feast on the corpse in a most vicious manner, working slowly but precisely to carefully tear out the innards with its claws and teeth.

The entire opening execution lasted less than two minutes, and the crowd was loving it. Maximus beamed as a dozen cameras panned on him, the crowd breaking into chants of "Ave, Caesar!".

There was delectable carnage to come, and they knew it. And they were loving it.

Metzuda, Capital of Kahanistan

Presidential Palace

President Khalid bin Abdullah al-Omari loved to watch blood sports. He derived a certain sick pleasure in watching it, though he barely understood Doomani Latin and was forced to read the English or Arabic subtitles. Some had called him unpatriotic for watching Doomani TV, and even his more loyal guards stood outside his room while he watched it, unlike the gridiron games or reruns of Borat that they would often join him in watching.

However, they came rushing into his room, four of them, when they heard a yell of horror and sounds of copious vomiting emanating from there. Inside was the President, his head in the puke bucket he usually saved for drinking binges, being violently sick as a Kahanistanian senator was screaming in the utmost agony while having his intestines ripped out by the biggest lion any of them had ever seen.

Captain Moses Caldwell turned off the TV. "Good God! You don't need to be watching that shit, Mr. President. That'll rot your mind, turn you into one of them." He set the bucket down. "Sick it all up, man. Then go get yourself a cool drink of water and rest."

The President nodded and finished vomiting up the half pan of chicken and anchovy pizza he had eaten in the last half hour. A guard had walked over to the water cooler and fetched a cup of water. The President took it, trembling, and washed the awful taste of vomit and bile from his mouth.

"God damn it... someone call Ms. Levitt, find out what's taking her so long. Tell her the killings have already started," said President al-Omari, clearly shaken. It wasn't that he had seen people killed, it was that the people being killed were instruments of Kahanistanian democracy, that is, people who were elected by the will of the people to run the country, and their killings were therefore actions against the people as a whole. The fates of the remaining senators would hinge on the diplomatic and persuasive skills of a politician many thought insane...

---

Venture Island

While the Minister of Foreign Affairs was talking to the Whyaticans, the song "Dancing Queen" suddenly blared from a pocket in her dress. She reached inside it and retrieved her cellular phone.

"This had better be an emergency, I'm at a very important meeting with the Whyatican government regarding peace and a possible alliance," she said testily.

"This is Colonel Fulton," said the woman on the other end of the line. "The killings have begun, the President's had a nervous breakdown, they're feeding the senators to lions."

"Lions? Jesus Christ!" She was doing all she could here. "Get with the special forces or something."

---

Metzuda, Capital of Kahanistan

Presidential Palace

Lt. Colonel Mara Fulton hung up the phone. Crazy bitch. Why that woman was put in the Ministry she would never know. If she expected special forces to be sent into Doomingsland, she'd have another think coming. After an infiltration into Clandonia (which Kahanistan still refused to recognize as being part of Whyatica) had gotten them invaded and colonized by the Doomies, Fulton figured that an infiltration into the Doomani capital would be about as easy as kidnapping the Emperor's wife to raise the baby as a Satanist Communist.

"Foreign Minister Daniel McKenzie. Next to me here is Ambassador John Cash." the Foreign Minister said, shaking the hands of the Kahanistani delegates. He ushered them into a waiting limousine, and the drive began to a diplomatic centre on Venture.

Once inside, the Ambassador turned on the soundproofing so the driver couldn't overhear anything, and said, "I apologize for the dust in your embassy in advance - it was recently refurbished. Anyway, why waste time?" he said in his Caladan drawl, "Foreign Minister McKenzie here is going to try to talk with the Doomani, prevent the rest of your men from getting executed. Dan over here has some experience dealing with them, he was the ambassador to Doomingsland before we had a falling out with them right after the war. Failing that, the Emperor himself can talk to Caesar, they were friends. Now, the Emperor has authorized me to help the Kahanistanis rebuild in any way they can, he wants you personally to know that he apologizes on behalf of his people and the nutball who was in charge before 'im."

The limousine shot down Main St. in the capital of Venture, the embassy district not far from where they were..

Levitt smiled. "We all have our nutballs. I should know." She was widely considered eccentric if not outright batshit insane. She was the type of person who would spit in Caesar's face if she saw him in the street, or flash a group of religious lunatics to get their blood boiling. Only recently she had addressed Count JWolf in official correspondence as "**** J-Wolf."

Norwall nodded. "She's one of them, but not as crazy as the guy who nuked Shazbotdom a year or two ago, or General al-Ghazi, who wanted to solve Kahanistan's overpopulation problem by annexing half of Automagfreek and sharing the rest with the Parthians and Roach-Busterians. Now he's one royal lunatic."

"What we need first off is training of our officers," began Levitt. "Most of our generals are fairly nationalistic and won't take kindly to foreigners trying to train them, but I see no alternative if we're to become a powerful force, and I'm someone who's had seventeen years of experience as an officer. Then we can talk about weapons, organization, the like. First off, we need better tactics. There is no excuse for sustaining this kind of casualty ratio vis-a-vis the Doomani, when we outnumbered them four to one and took over 100 times the casualties they did. It's obscene. It only reinforces their view of us as weaklings, and that's something we have to get rid of as soon as we can." She did not seem concerned at all with the car shooting down the street; she loved to barrel down the highway in her customized 1997 Mercedes at over 200 kilometers an hour.

Norwall, on the other hand, was terrified; one hand gripped the Foreign Minister's bare shoulder and his other hand pressed against the seat in front of him.

"Do we really have to shoot down the road like this?"

The Foreign Minister grinned, lowered the soundproofing and said, "Dave, slow us down a bit."

The driver nodded, and let off on the gas a bit, and the Minister put the soundproofing back on.

Cash was a bit of an armchair general himself - he had kept track of the Kahanistani war carefully, and he said, "Well, first off, your problem is, the Merkava IV is outdated at best. The M160A2 we use and the Imperator tanks the Doomani used outranged your tanks by a far margin, and the Merkava's gun wasn't good enough to penetrate the Imperator's armour at any angle or range. Now, I can talk with our generals about lending your army some M160A2s or Macabean Nakíls for your army to train on."

"Another problem I see is that your previous governments - no offense intended - have been too openly idealistic and hostile to nations opposite to it. The lessons of Automagfreek, the Kraven Corporation, and now Doomingsland should not be forgotten. Now, neither of us are real generals, so I'll arrange officer ROTC training when I get the chance to. What's the situation regarding your cities, miss?" McKenzie said, as the limousine slowed to a stop at a red light.

"Miss?" The nerve of some people. Now wasn't the time to chew him out, though.

"It's Minister, or Ms. Levitt. Anyway, our cities have basic infrastructure, the problem is there isn't enough housing to go around. Most people live five or six families in facilities designed for one. We have gangs running around stealing construction equipment. At least the gangs are easy to catch, we don't have jails yet so the police just rough them up a bit and send them home, then the stuff gets recovered. Rapists, murderers, and the like... well, everyone and their dog owns an assault weapon, so we don't see too many of them, the few we do are usually shot on sight by the victims or their families."

"Fine, Ms. Levitt, I apologize. And regarding the housing, well, I wouldn't put a human in any of these, and you probably know what I'm talking about, but Whyatican corporations manufacture those little housing units, little pre-fabbed single family deals that we've used for the military, in Clandonia Prime, and in Britis---Excuse me, Eurasia. They aren't much, but they're cheap and I can get a million of them moved pretty quick." Cash said, thinking about numbers.

"The government is willing to pay for your reconstruction, we just ask for a free trade agreement and once we get to the embassy we can talk a bit more about your economy."

The limousine pulled a right turn into a gated block, the credentials checked, and the car stopped in front of 812 Embassy Way, which was labelled 'KAHANISTAN' in standard English. The doors unlocked, and all 4 people got out.

"Now, I think it's ready for you to move in, there's a helipad up top which has direct access to Venture Island Airport." McKenzie said, and he motioned for them to enter the embassy.

Adrinus Base, FKC Colonies Haven

As far as Klatchians were concerned their colonies in Haven were a backwater. They had originally been created for some odd reason that had gotten into the Vrakian King's head years before. Unfortunatly, he also proved to have gone quite insane shortly afterwords so no one knew why he had actually taken control of the place.

Like most sprawling Empires, the Federation had just sort of stuck a pin in the map, ordered someone to build a naval base, and then proceeded to ignore it in traditional fasion.

Actually Adrinus wasn't all that bad as bases went. It had been based on an existing design and a premium one two. The buildings were mostly covered in Neo-Tyrian cedar, which although needed a few coats of paint, was rot resistant against the salt air anyway. The buildings were low slung, one or two stories, and primarily framed either out of wood, or heavy reinforced concrete (but still sided in wood for some odd reason). The center of life at the base was at the enlisted and officers club houses. Both structures sprawled across the ground with numerous wings and formed several courtyards with each other, and the administration building.

Admiral Ewing was sitting back enjoying a beer in the senior officer's lounge. He was reading a new text on design developments in battlecruisers when he daughter swore.

Ellen Ewing was about sixteen, and technically should not have been in the senior officers lounge. The problem was that 'Eddie' her brother, had basicly smashed the TV at home while playing with his new game system from some odd ball country that could design interactive games but not effective wrist straps. Resulting in Ellen both threatening to draw and quarter her little brother, and missing out on her favorite show, Found which was so highly complex that one never wanted to miss a moment (much to the happiness of both the network and the show's sponsers).

So tonight Ellen had been allowed to watch TV in the lounge, which was fine. Anyone who wanted to complain, had to complain to her father. And truth be told Ellen was known (very quietly) as "uber jail bait," so no one minded the addition to the scenery.

However, the swearing did make every officer look up and at the TV. They watched in bemusement as a bunch of large predetors dined on some unfortunate souls.

The accompaning religious propaganda made one officer quip, "Haven't you ever seen a 'Slaughter of Sin' rerun before kid? It was really popular across the south back when I was a kid."

Ellen turned and looked over her shoulder, "This is live television."

"Huh? Yeah...no one would have said Cesar in any Slaughter of Sin I've ever watched..." Another officer chimed in.

"So who is broadcasting this?" The Admiral asked quietly. He had a funny feeling that he should forward this back to Port Olympus. Even they might have intrest in a Christofi clone.

A million... we have six hundred million people who need shelter, and we have enough for maybe a hundred and fifty million. Norwall did some quick calculations in his head. Four hundred and fifty million people needed homes, so one hundred to one hundred and fifty million homes needed to be built before winter set in.

"I suppose that's acceptable, for the time being," said the Ambassador. He stepped out of the car and the Minister followed him.

"I'm no economist," she said. She wasn't much of a politician, either; most of her working life had been spent in the military. "But I can tell you that our economy sucks. A lot of us are leery of free trade agreements after the Allaneans nearly drove out a lot of our native businesses."

"Me... I'm not as communist as a lot of politicians you'll see from Kahanistan. I could agree to a free trade agreement, but it'll have to go through the Senate for final approval. They're desperate now, they're running shorthanded and approving almost anything that comes down the pike as long as it doesn't advocate discrimination or repression of civil liberties."

"They have good reason to be desperate. Civil war could be on the rise if something doesn't happen. I'll authorize moving as many of those housing units as I can immediately. Probably close to a million right now, and once we tell the contractors how many we want, we can fill most of the needs before winter sets in." Cash said, entering the embassy. He nodded at an armed Whyatican guard, and said, "You need stable banks to even start thinking about a stable economy. The largest bank in the Empire has expressed interest in investing in your nation and it's business, and it can open branches in Kahanistan as soon as you want them. I would also advise against communism as a matter of economic recovery, we can stimulate your economy to get the market moving and capitalism working."


"Pratt Group is the largest financial institution in Whyatica, one of the largest in Northeast Haven. If it's any company that can get Kahanistan's economy going, it's them." McKenzie added, opening up a large meeting room. About 40 feet long by 35 feet wide, this room sported a large conference table, a projector, and several other neat super-whiz-bang cool tech things. At the moment, none of them showed anything because they hadn't been plugged in.

"Take a seat." Cash said, pulling back a chair for Ms. Levitt and sitting down himself in another one across the table.

Levitt sat down across from Cash. She knew the Whyaticans would advise against communism (from what she'd heard, during the war anti-Kahanistanian propaganda portrayed the social-democratic state as Communist), she also knew that the Communist Party was likely to make a power grab; communism tends to thrive in regions plagued by poverty. She had a close friend who was still in the military who was a communist functionary. Nadia's not going to be pleased...

"All right," said the Minister. "What's Pratt Group planning?"

"Well, Pratt Group would set up shop using small-town banks, just places to issue coinage and keep the money. Raising confidence in your people is the first thing you can do to prevent communist revolutions. Once that's done, they'd discuss a central bank with your government to try to regulate inflation and your currency and other aspects of the economy. They'll also invest in small business from the ground up, letting the economy grow from small businessmen and offering low-interest loans to larger ones. Other Whyatican businesses can set up shop and offer jobs to people out of work, building homes and infrastructure." Cash said, saying what the rep from Pratt had told him to say.

"Also, another issue is protection from foreign nations. We are barely on speaking terms with many CAD nations ever since the Grand Imperium left APOC. I'm concerned that the Doomani may come after you again, or another CAD nation. We can protect you and your people until you're ready to stand on your own legs."

"It's going to be very difficult to get the Senate to allow Whyatican military bases," said Levitt. "We're certainly willing to go along with whatever economic plan you have in mind, but as for military reconstruction... a lot of these soldiers have fought your troops before, they won't be very eager to listen to them. Many of them... they still think they're militarily capable of standing up for themselves... our arms design bureau is the target of a lot of international criticism, but they think that the critics are all wrong, that they have the right ideas. They won't listen to criticism these days. It won't be easy getting the average military officer to listen to the Whyaticans, and the nationalism in the general staff..."

"That said, when can the initial Whyatican assistance begin?" asked Norwall.

"Immediately. I understand your people will have reservations about listening to us, but I'm prepared to offer a protectorate status to you. No bases are required, if we can find a suitable island close to your homeland for a naval and air base we can help there. I won't allow a CAD power to invade Kahanistan again." John Cash said, as he turned on a computer and began composing an encrypted email to the Emperor..

"A protectorate status won't be acceptable for the same reason a lot of the Senate was willing to pull away from Midlonian protectorate status: we want to remain neutral in the upcoming hostilities, if things between your country and Midlonia go to hell," said Ambassador Norwall.

"We might be able to arrive at some top-level discussion, or set up an air base on some island, there are quite a few of them east of us. If you were to render aid without claiming us as protectorates, and we were able to get several other nations giving aid at the same time, we might be able to get something going..." started Levitt. "For military aid, you might want to set up a meeting with these people." She scribbled down several names of Kahanistanian generals, admirals, and politicians who might be interested in talking to the Whyaticans.

"Fleet Admiral Raghad Nazmareh, Commander of Naval Operations... she's rather nationalistic, more open-minded than a lot of admirals about newer ship designs, she was the one who dragged the navy into using E.T.C. guns on their ships. General Ali Mustafa ibn Abdullah al-Kamel... chief of staff of the Republic Marines. He'll be interested in hearing all about invasion tactics, but that's a little way off." The Minister smiled and read the next name. "General Kemal Muhammad Zirdani, chief of staff of the Republic Guard. He'll want to know about tactics to be used against stealth aircraft. Lieutenant General Mustafa Lavalle, the highest ranking pilot in the military. General Nora Kasagawa, Minister of Defense."

"I can unilaterally declare that Kahanistan is under Imperial protection, if that is better. No reciprocation required, if a CAD power comes after your people again, I can guarantee Whyatican assistance." Cash said, noting the list of high military officials.

"I'm also far more concerned with feeding your people than building a military, understand. I've sent a message to the industrial leaders of Whyatica, and I already got a response from the head of B-T Industries, the group manufacturing the housing. They're proceeding with the shipping, the first units will be there in 24 hours, just tell them where to set up. There are some armed security men with them, understand. Let your government know using the panel, and I can consider this meeting over with until we know a little more about what needs to be done."

"That would be most acceptable," said the Ambassador. "But do you think you have the military capacity to resist Midlonia and protect Kahanistan?"

The Minister nodded and smiled. "I'll do that," she said. She opened the panel. Vice President Margaret Delray was on the other end.

"Ms. Vice President, we have housing coming in from Whyatica. There will be armed security with them, just so nobody freaks out at Whyaticans in our territory running around with guns and takes a shot at them."

"OK..." replied the VP from her office phone. "What have we managed to get done with regard to the officials in Doomingsland?"

"The Whyatican Foreign Minister's agreed to negotiate. I'll try to get involved in the discussion, but the ball's in their court now..." replied Levitt.

"Our military was in an incredibly heighted state when the Midlonians made their empty threat - With the entire resources of the Empire and Commonwealth behind us, we could have held out indefinetly, and had the Midlonians set foot on Whyatican ground there would have been gallons of Midlonian blood for every inch they advanced. I am confident that Midlonia is a paper tiger at best - it has been over a month since they made their threat and no action has been taken against us." McKenzie said.

"I'll be going to Kahanistan with the next wave of supplies, if there's an embassy building available." Cash said, adding, "If not, the Whyatican government will pay for an embassy district to be constructed in Metzuda."

Cash excused himself and left the room, heading for the Venture Island airport, and Foreign Minister McKenzie said, "Is there anything further you'd like to discuss?"

"We have an embassy complex in the capital already," said Levitt. "On another note... I'd advise against your current course of action in Angola." She was being uncharacteristically oblique; she had a reputation for being highly confrontational.

"I don't think they want those animals running amok in their country, any more than the Zairians do," she said, referring to Manus Dei, the Doomani "Hand of God." "I think that simply establishing bases there would suffice and not incur negative international criticism. You'd be fighting terrorists." After Whyatica and Kahanistan had fought, she hoped that the Whyatican Minister would have learned something about unpopular wars.

"And we're still on your side," she added.

McKenzie was taken slightly aback - the invasion of Angola had barely been going on for two days before the meeting had taken place, although he didn't care talking to this woman about it.

"Manus Dei cannot be allowed to gain influence in Central Africa. If we don't stop them in Zaire, they will extend their influence through the entire continent and everywhere in Africa will be facing the same fate that your people are in Iudaea province. The Angolans had been facing attacks by Manus Dei incursions, as well as their Zairian supporters, so we will purge Manus Dei from the region."

McKenzie left, unwilling to say anything further about the Angolan invasion.

Idolára Provincial Airport
One million thirty bolt-together housing units had been tossed into two SuC-1 stormbringer heavy airlifters as quickly as possible - more were on the way to IPA, but they needed to get immediate aid to the Kahanistanis, to show that they were ready to help. The two transport aircraft began taxiing on the runways, the 23 hour journey lingering on their minds as it would be another 23 back to Whyatica, making this unpleasant at best for the three pilots and two copilots.

Also, representatives of Platt Group, Ltd. were preparing to leave from Miana Provincial Airport to Kahanistan - they needed to scout for good locations for banks, and to talk to the Kahanistani government about the economy and banking operations..

Venture Island

Levitt frowned and shook her head. They just don't listen to anyone, do they... and Iudaea Province? She was tempted to knock some sense into this guy. He was smart to leave. One never referred to the Negev as Iudaea Province when talking to a Kahanistanian politician.

She stood up and walked out the building. Spotting a guard, she turned to him and asked, "When's the next flight out of here?"

---

Metzuda, Havenic Kahanistan

The lone international airport received the Whyatican aircraft, and a group of Kahanistanian government officials approached them as they landed.

A tall Hispanic man greeted the Whyaticans. "I am Dr. Antonio Valera, the Minister of the Interior. I assume these are the housing units that Ms. Levitt mentioned?"

Urbis Doomanus, Doomanum Superior, Imperium Doomanum

This was turning out to be a rather nice day for Caesar; God knows he needed one. He'd damned near gotten his head blown off in Jerusalem, had even been shot a few times. Hell, after all he'd been through, all the Crusades and wars, he literally had enough shrapnel in him to set off a metal detector. And he was proud of it.

It was a symbol of his Earthly suffering in the name of the Lord, and so it was for all Doomani who'd gone on Crusade and returned home without having been martyred.

It was noon, and the sun was shining brightly. The morning had been kicked off, as usual, with executions: in this case, a dozen former Kahanistani senators had been fed to the lions. This was mere temporary amusement for the Doomani. Feeding to the lions was just so...clichéd, and yet, at the same time, it was highly entertaining to watch. Many of the people who'd come to view the spectacles this day had never been to the Coliseum in person, and had only been able to watch local games in their local arena, which used less expensive beasts such as hyenas and jackals for the killing.

That was probably more gruesome to watch then the lions: the dogs would rip the victim open, and oftentimes it was not a quick death as it had been with the lions. Hyenas often took their time picking out the intestine of the victim.

The gladiator corporations that ran such events knew how to quench the peoples' appetite for brutality: they craved blood as if it were water, and they'd been traveling in the desert for many days without water.

In between the time the first Kahanistani senators had been killed and now, there had been numerous executions: prisoners of war from the Kahanistan campaign, both captured Republic Guardsmen (in this case, preferably officers) as well as various undesirables that had been rounded up in the first purges of the population. The executions themselves had amused the crowd greatly: flayings, beheadings, more action with the lions.

Perhaps the greatest was when the arena had been flooded (modern equipment made this possible in a matter of minutes), and five-hundred prisoners had been thrown into the water. Then the crocodiles had been released right into the water. The crowd had cheered as the water turned from crystal clear to bright red, severed limbs rising to the surface and floating. Underwater cameras had caught the thing from a below perspective, as well, that being broadcasted on one of the twelve massive screens around the upper sections of the Coliseum, as well as on the personal monitors of everyone viewing the spectacles.

It would take alot to top that one. It would require a combination of high-ranking prisoners as well as a parcitularly nasty and visible means of demise. Those running the show had just the solution for this.

Because there were to be a full seven days of games total in honor of the Liberation of Jerusalem, executions of senators as a whole had to be kept limited throughout the day so that they could be evenly spread out as to last the week. That was the reason for the more limited execution at first; the ante was being upped now, however.

There would be a total of one hundred senators meeting their grisly demise in the next minutes.

Maximus and his Praetonian wife, the entire time, had been chatting with a lovely Plebian couple seated besides the VIP booth, which was open on both sides to allow the Emperor to mingle with his lowers; they were wealthy enough to afford seats right next to the Emperor's own, so they had to be loaded. As it turned out, the husband had fought under Maximus in Arretium, and was now a successful businessman, trading in slaves from Czardas, and, more recently, Kahanistan.

It always warmed Maximus' heart to hear such success stories from men that he'd fought along side of in God's name.

As always, the spectacle commenced with sections of the arena seeming to collapse into the ground, only to be replaced with an elevator bearing the unfortunate individuals to be sacrificed for the sake of the peoples' entertainment. However, this time, something different occured: a thin-white netting, tight enough to keep small insects from escaping yet large enough so that it is transparent from the distances it was being view from, was suspended over the arena by robotic platforms operating along the edge of the arena.

The people broke into a cacophony of chatter as they began putting forth theories as to what horror awaited the poor, terrified senators.

Suddenly, their chatter was overcome by an even larger chatter, emanating from the arena: the sound of the buzzing of one million wings.

The people erupted into cheering as the walls of the arena itself slid open, and massive black clouds spewed forth from them: Iurari flesh-eating beetles. They were big for insects, about the size of a man's fist, with vicious-looking mandibles and a shiny, metallic-looking exoskeleton, generally shades of black and dark blue, although a few red and yellow ones could be spotted amidst the hordes of insects. They spat an acid that partially digested their victim, allowing for their mandibles to easily scoop chunks of flesh and consume it rapidly.

The crowd ooh’d and ah’d as the senators attempted to flee or find shelter: there had been a few transparent plastic shelters that had been scattered throughout the arena, and, with the rest of the arena being composed of nothing but sand, a few fled there. It was all a part of the show, of course. For the others that sought refuge elsewhere, they would soon find it to be a futile ordeal: the beetles beset them by the tens of thousands. Within seconds they were almost totally covered in the vicious little insects, which proceeded to soak the skin in acid and chomp away at their tenderized snack. All while the victim still drew breath.

Oftentimes, to the enjoyment of the crowd, the beetles would crawl down the throat of the victim by the dozens, making for an even nastier, albeit quite possibly quicker, death. The entire scene was something out of a nightmare.

For those sealing themselves inside of their plastic shelters and zipping up the doors, they often had to contend with the dozen or so beetles that had made it in with them: it usually wasn’t very difficult to dispatch them, requiring only a swift stomp of the foot. The Iurari beetle was not a very quick or maneuverable creature, and so this was not terribly hard to do. Of course, the hissing of the beetles as they tormented their victims within the shelters was often enough to send them running in every which direction within their plastic prison.

Naturally, cameras had been installed inside: a necessity, for the outside of the shelters were soon completely covered in the malevolent insects. Night vision cameras, of course, for there was no light within the plastic houses to speak of now that the insects had encompassed them. The crowd would be treated to the scene of thousands upon thousands of the beetles slowly chomping away at the plastic in every which direction while the helpless victims either contended with any beetles that survived, or simply awaited their gruesome demise. In most cases, they all broke through at roughly the same time: it appeared from the outside as if the houses, now composed only of the beetles, collapsed in on themselves to take on the shapes of a dozen or so people, which quickly disintegrated as the senators were eaten alive. The cameras themselves recorded the last moments of the senators as the bugs were breaking through their last line of defense at every corner almost simultaneously, cascading into the poor men and women.

The entire ordeal lasted roughly fifteen minutes and had, by far, met with the greatest response of the people, warranting a standing ovation to the bugs that had done the work, which were now settling on the netting that separated them from the outside world, chewing away at it with utter futility.

An ultra high-pitched tone, in audible to human ears, recalled the swarm back into the holding tanks; they dispersed once more, dissolving into great black clouds and pouring into the holes in the arena walls, taking several minutes for the whole of the hordes to enter their holding chambers. Maximus, from his seat, could have reached down in front of him and touched the beetles, who were a mere two feet below the walls of his box. Of He, of course, had the best view in the house of the spectacles, the floor being just twenty feet below him.

This was a good day.

Metzuda, Capital of Havenic Kahanistan

Presidential Palace

"Yeah! Rip that son of a bitch's guts out!" a drunken soldier roared at the TV, throwing his beer can in the television's general direction as a hyena systematically removed the lower entrails of a particularly despised Conservative politician. President al-Omari was uncharacteristically absent from the daily watching of Doomani blood sports, which, ironically, were about the only things Doomani that were popular in Kahanistan; millions of people watched their leaders be brutally killed by the Doomani animals.

A Kahanistanian lieutenant with an artificial leg wheeled in a hundred-liter barrel of the finest Kahanistanian vodka. He knew his superiors wouldn't stop him. Their commander was visibly depressed and too caught up in her own emotional crisis to do anything to stop them. The soldiers boozed it up like they had never seen a liquor bottle before, and the vodka filtered through several different taps, each with its own flavor in it; cherry, vanilla, grape, and banana nut vodka flowed through the taps, intoxicating the gleeful spectators. As the group consisted of liberals, conservatives, centrists, and every religion under the sun, someone hated each of the politicians enough to cheer when one was savaged, and within minutes they were drunk enough to merely boo loudly when a politician they liked was brutally snuffed by the beetles or the 'gators.

Outside the room where the perverse jeering, wild drinking, and even alcohol-fueled sexual activity were going on unchecked, Lt. Colonel Mara Fulton, the commander of the Presidential Security Detachment, walked by, her facial expression blank as it had been recently. She did not even notice as she bumped head on into a member of the Special Combat Service, a large, tanned, muscled man of about the same age as her. (She was 28.)

"Watch where you're going," Fulton said coldly to the man.

She seems depressed. Maybe... The SCS Major nodded. "Sorry. You seem depressed, Colonel. Are you all right?" he inquired.

"Who are you? And why are you here?" the commander replied, clearly not in the mood to talk to this man. She spoke in a cold monotone, that of someone whose emotions had been numbed by traumatic shock.

"Major Rob Morris, Special Combat Service. I was sent here to talk to the President about a rescue operation." He would have extended his hand to Colonel Fulton, but she seemed so emotionally fragile. He put an arm around her shoulder. "Are you... worried... about General Valens?" he asked.

Fulton shoved the man's arm off her. She was indeed worried about Valens; they had bonded emotionally since he had entered the Palace. They had both lost partners in the Freekish war and attached to each other. She worried about if he had survived the war, if he was among those sent to Doomingsland, if he had undergone some unspeakable torture in the Negev, where she'd heard an insurgency was taking place, though she knew little of the details.

"The President's office is down the hall. I'll take you there, and don't touch me again." She escorted the SCS officer to the President.

In the office, Major Morris saluted. "Mr. President, I have a plan to rescue the remaining officials. Of course, it is important that our troops not be recognized as Kahanistanian, we all know where the situation ended up with Whyatica. We'll go in unarmed. I know this sounds crazy, but intelligence says that all Doomani civilians own guns for self-defense. We will go into Doomingsland aboard a civilian ship, and then just walk about the city. If we need guns, we'll just buy them, the same way we do in Kahanistan. I think I can figure out how to shoot a DR-83."

"We can't risk it," said President al-Omari. "We can't risk war until the diplomatic option Ms. Levitt was able to arrive at with the Whyaticans has been tried and fails. If it fails, then I'll consider authorizing a rescue mission. How do you even plan to get in, Major Morris? Their radar will detect you going in by air. Even if you have HARM's, the radar will go off and detect you before you can use them..."

"We won't go in by air. We'll go in by boat. A fast, maneuverable fishing vessel. If we get caught, we're fishers who got lost. We'd have fishing equipment, GPS, and a frequency-hopping radio in case we're jammed. Our cover story is that the GPS is to help us find our way, it must be malfunctioning and we got lost, and the radio is for calling for help, the frequency-hopping spread spectrum is in case the usual emergency frequencies are all clogged up."

---

Nationalist Party HQ

After watching the blood show, Lieutenant General Harold Gustafson, a Nationalist politician (the Nationalist Party being the fusion of the Conservative and further-right political parties in Kahanistan, many of which had been severely weakened by the loss of most or all of their seats in the Senate from the aftermath of the war) announced on his radio show that the Doomani regime had "like an arrogant teenager filming a mailbox baseball spree, videotaped its own crimes against humanity." He went on to add that, "at least the Nazis made a pretense that they were giving Jews a new home away from the Aryan populace. These animals openly kill for fun, the only way that the world will be safe from this barbaric crusader state is if a large nuclear mushroom cloud erupts in their capital."

Nominally, Marinus S'anjin holds the rank of Cardinal. It had come with the rank; almost every official in Manus Dei is expected to be some kind of Church official, and S'anjin had been half the reason Jerusalem hadn't put up anywhere near as much resistance. It was his Milites that had forcibly separated the Jewish, Muslim, Christian, and Armenian quarters (this last was occupied simply by 'everyone else'), allowing the Doomani troops that followed them to exterminate all of the quarters but the Christian one.

That is, of course, past history. S'anjin's men have been deployed into Kahanistan, all areas of it; every day more mysterious disappearances and killings are reported. There are Manus Dei in the upper echelons of the Najaster resistance, for instance; the mountains are crisscrossed with bomb traps and pitfalls set up by Manus Dei. In fact, S'anjin's work in making Kahanistan/Iudaea more accessible to the Doomani has earned him the nickname 'Doombringer'.

He is watching a television screen. Live broadcast from Urbis Doomanus, it seems. People appear to be being devoured by bugs of some variety; the caption line below the image reads "Kahanistani infidels serving their one worthy task in the form of the entertainment of the Doomani people." S'anjin watches emotionlessly, his face betraying not a flicker of amusement or disgust; it's difficult for him to understand what he feels himself.

After a moment he sighs. "Bloody hell... don't they realise they're just making those bastards into martyrs?" he murmurs half to himself. "Kill them, yes, and kill them in painful ways. But publically televising it is just going to make you enemies."

S'anjin is first and foremost a diplomat. His Dorian chapters run the nation, and as a result Dorium has never gotten condemnations or international outrage, aside from being labelled 'Doomie puppets' or a 'third-world hellhole'. This despite the fact that many Dorians regularly engage in tortures and executions that could make Maximus III blink. And why? It is because S'anjin is careful; he acknowledges the executions when asked, but he doesn't flaunt them. In short, he doesn't act like a juvenile delinquent bragging about how evil he is.

And he's planning to warn the Doomani to do the same. Televised public executions will get the world upset, and while no-one really cares about the Kahanistanis, they may get other forces to find the remaining Senators and lift them out—others referring to those with presumably better training, more combat experience, better equipment, et cetera, than the Kahanistanis—which could be a hassle to the Doomani and require further expenditure of resources. The lovely occupation plans for Iudaea could be upset by the intrusion of infidels, and while the Doomies could likely deal with them easily, it would draw resources from elsewhere.

With that determined, S'anjin sat down to write a message.

[The message is headed with a simple and universally recogniseable Chi-Rho stamp, eliminating the need for any words of explanation. The text below it is handwritten in a simple, flowing script. S'anjin's own.]

Salutations, brothers and sisters in Christ. We have been monitoring your otherwise splendid handling of the Kahanistani Senators situation, and wish to only take a moment to remind you—as you may already know—that executing them in the manner you have been doing may cause the international community (or even those few unfaithful Doomani) to view them as martyrs. In the event that this type of annoyance does occur, simply inform us and we shall be delighted to take care of the situation.

It is unsigned, and thus, perhaps to the Doomanus who receives it, all the more significant.

Wittelbach, The United Duchies, FKC

Max Cohan sat back in his chair and studied the map before him. Admiral Tolvar looked out of the bank of windows, studying the bay and shipping visibal from the eigith story window of United Tower.

"So you think Ewing is right about this?" Tolvar turned and studied the man across the table. Max looked like someone out of a Nazi propaganda poster, blond, tall, blue eyes. If someone had been looking to stick Aryan it would have been Max. Of course, Max was as jewish as one could get, a banker and the second son of a Rabbi.

"Yes, I do think Ewing has made a fairly good assesment of the situation."

Max studied Tolvar, the dark swarthy man sitting across from him. Tolvar was supposidly a Vrakian but looked like he was from Dyelli Beybi. And Dyellians specialized in plots within plots. Which made the current acting head of the Klatchian Development Fund, or KDF a bit worried. The Dyellians had become quite assertive since the recent decapitation of House Crawford, who had systematicly used their federal powers to keep the Dyellians in check.

Without those powers, the whole government of the Federation had dropped into Dyellian hands, effectively turning the Federation into 'Greater Dyelli' and then...nothing. The Dyellians had apparently tired quickly of their empire and had started picking fights with the Vaadians again.

But they had given birth to the Olympic Fleet, designed as an offensive weapon of the Federation to be used against enemy states in times of war. Tolvar was one of the new 'commanders' of the Olympic Fleet which was basicly acting independent of any centralized control.

The Olympic Fleet was now working on a plan to reinforce its postion within Haven. The problem was that the FKC bases in Haven were tucked off from a large bay that could easily be closed off by a enemy naval force. The commanders of the Olympic Fleet didn't feel like suffering a Jutland and had been looking for additional basing locations to offer close support outside of the straits, making any enemy force trying to 'close the door' forced to deal with attacks from both the bay and the open ocean.

Max pushed forward on the table. "I see...you don't think you can just get a military base with Kahanistan, you need us to offer the real bribe."

Tolvar nodded, "But we both know that the enclave idea works wonders for you...cheap labor without the annoying interference of the local government."

"True, so you want us to make the offer with Ewing along as JDF point?"

"Again correct, easier to have someone who understands these Doomies..."

"They come across as another Christofi eh?"

"Yes, but a Christofi not on our side..."

"Fine, I will see what we can do.."
Both men smiled narrow, unfreindly smiles towards each other. This was a marriage made in hell, not heaven.

--------
To: Democratic Soviet Republic of Havenatic Kahanistan

From: The Klatchian Development Fund, Wittelbach, The United Duchies of the Federated Klatchian Coast

Subject: Development and Defense of Haven Territories of Kahanistan.

We wish to welcome the people of Kahanistan to Haven. As you may, or may not, be aware your new home is located close to the Federated Klatchian Coast Colonies of Haven. We have been in contact with our represenatives in the area and they have informed us of your apparently dire situation.

Breifly, the Federated Klatchian Coast is a very large nation, made up of several states, to your west beyond Ilek-Vaad. We have had a territorial presence within the Haven region for sometime now, orginally purchased by the king of Vrak.

The Klatchian Development Fund is a quasi-independent investment and equity firm designed to invest in technologies, buisnesses, and nations for the gain of the Klatchian people as a whole. We are always looking for opportunies which will allow us to help increase the quality of life for Klatchians and their allies.

Presently, the Klatchian Development Fund has taken an intrest in your situation. We would like to discuss mutually benifical arangements that would help rebuild your economy and offer you increased security in one of the more militarized regions of the globe.

I and Admiral Ewing of the Federations Joint Defense Force would like to schedule a meeting with your government upon your earliest convienence.

Sincearly,

Max Cohen,
Interium Director,
Klatchian Development Fund

Official Announcement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Kahanistan Republic Navy

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

The Republic Navy is more than willing to discuss any form of political negotiations that might result in the improved security of the Free Republic.

I and Deputy Defense Minister General Iosif Malakov will be eager to discuss this matter with you and Admiral Ewing. I recommend we meet in Metzuda, the capital of Havenic Kahanistan.

Signed,
Fleet Admiral Raghad Nazmareh,
Commander of Naval Operations,
Kahanistan Republic Navy

To: Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan,
Fleet Admiral Raghad Nazmareh

From: Max Cohen, Interum Director
Klatchian Development Fund


Your proposed plan more than acceptable. However, we would like to have someone from your ecconomic development office or similar to be present, allowing us to discuss the ecconomic revival package as well as increased defense of the Free Republic.

If you do not mind, the Admiral would like to include a friendly flag visit to one of your ports with the small, four ship interceptor squadrons currently being assigned to Haven. We would then fly to Metzuda to meet with you.

If current security concerns rule out the visit by our squadron, we will be arriving a few days latter from our base in Haven.

Sincearly,
Max Cohen,
Interum Director
Klatchian Development Fund

New Sodom, Havenic Kahanistan

Admiral Nazmareh called the Klatchian Development Fund from her office. "Hello... This is Admiral Nazmareh. Just letting you know that we can have Commerce Minister Angus McKimble attend the meeting as well... we'd like to have our Foreign Minister attend, but she's in Whyatica attending to some urgent business with our politicians."

"You can visit our port in New Sodom, in the eastern part of Havenic Kahanistan."

Considering the sixteen hour diffrence, the Admiral only got Cohen's rather efficent after-hours secretary.

"Yes, oh Admiral Nazmareh..." A few types into the keyboard, (and a check of the international caller ID number) let him pull up the file. "Quite, yes well I am sure that Mister Cohen would like to have the meeting with Angus McKimble present."

"....Quite understandable about the Foreign Secretary being away, this was sort of last minute you know."

"New Sodom? A naval port is it...quite well I will forward that to the JDF since that happens to be their show"

"Hmm, hold one moment..."

The young man dialed another number, "Yes...this is Cohan's office, I was given this number to relay the response from Kahanistan, the visit appears to be a go...New Sodom...Yes I thought that was a very inappropriate name for a port myself..."

He switched back to the Admiral.

"The JDF confirms that Taskforce Haven I-7 will be arriving in New Sodom in fourty-two hours. It will consist of the KFS Hassen, KFS Mongoose, KFS Hopeburn, and the KFS Republic Admiral Ewing will be in command with Mister Cohen of the Development Fund as his guest."

OOC: Normally I would just jump forward but you don't like flex time so...I'll continue tomorrow... ;)

New Sodom, Kahanistan

Admiral Nazmareh brought the RKS Imperator Marum, one of only two super dreadnaughts to survive the wars, into port, wanting to impress the Klatchians. She would be aboard it, but would return to the city as soon as the Klatchians arrived.

General Malakov, on the other hand, had just returned from a UPEO meeting that had stretched longer than he'd cared for. He was in the naval base, inspecting it and finding it generally up to standards.

New Sodom itself was quite appropriately named. Men and women of dozens of nationalities tanned nude on the beaches without a care for the fact that they were mostly as naked as the day G-d (Allah? Ahura Mazda? Satan?) made them. People approached each other sexually without a care in the world. The bars in New Sodom openly sold ketamine and ecstasy over the counter, and had rooms where the sexes could mingle in privacy. It was escaping poverty by catering to tourists from all over the world, and the New Sodomites hoped to give much of this tourist income to the rest of the country, which wasn't so lucky.

In the city, people bought guns and ammunition at dozens of gun shops with no background checks. It could have been any day in Al-Bahr, the old port city in Kahanistan before the Doomani invasion, but gone were the old apartment towers half a kilometer high. This was starting to look like an Allanean city. Children carried weapons ranging from MP-5's to M-8's to DR-83's their fathers or mothers had captured from the Doomani during the invasion of the Negev. Serious, violent crime was minimal as it would be met with overwhelming lethal force, but occasional sneak thefts and acts of vandalism were common.

Drunken or drugged youths walked through the streets communing with the Lizard King or whatever spirits their LSD-influenced hallucinations called forth. Gambling casinoes routinely provided free drugs to weaken the ability of card counters and other strategic gamblers to bet strategically.

The drugs available in New Sodom were not cut with dangerous substances that could do more damage than the drugs themselves. The finest Havenic pot coursed through the bars as pure as it was on the stalk. New Sodom truly strove to live up to its name.

New Sodom

The four craft appeared on the horizon, and were fairly small by radar standards. The KFS Hopeburn led the group. As an Alconian Warrior class battlecruiser she was dwarfed by the super-dreadnaught sitting in port. Her long sleek lines heightened by a low radar superstructure and gun turrets gave her a fast sleek look of her breed. The Warriors had been designed by the Alconians for the primary mission of killing enemy carriers with long range fire. Her six 14 inch coil guns might have looked puny compared to 16 1000 mm guns. But they were designed to turn a flat top's landing deck into scrap, not fight it out with the behmiths of the waves.

Her primary antagonist was the carrier's aircraft and anti-ship missles. Therefore she carried and over abundance of CIWS instillations, including Alconian 88mm quad fire dual purpose guns, and VLS cells full of anti-aircraft missles.

The Hopeburn was flanked by two destroyers, both were fairly modern units with low radar apature superstructures and a single 5 inch rapid fire gun and a forward deck covered in vls cells. The Mongoose was of a catameran hull design, built for speed and working close into shore. Her sister was of a more traditional mono hull design.

The Republic likely got the most looks. She was actually an armed airship tender, something most navies didn't have. Nested on the stern deck was a 100 meter long airship. There was room for one more. A careful examination of the radar screen, or with a pair of bonoculars would find the second airship hovering over the center of the group like a protective mother.

------
KFS Hopeburn
"Well what do you think of that Admiral?" Cohen asked polietly.

Admiral Ewing just chuckled, "Overly big, can mount two plus divisions of Marines...thirty nine inch guns....you know what they'd call her in Naval Manor?"

"A nuke magnet..."

"Yup, something that big, that dangerous...most navies would just tatically nuke it or drop somthing from orbit on it. And she is so big, she couldn't escape or turn out of attack range in time, even going 22 knots it would take her two full minutes just to get out of the original target box."

"You sound like Admiral Higgens..."

"So you had Higgens too? I thought he retired by now."

Cohen laughed, "He will retire when they wheel is dead body out of the classroom"

"I guess your right, I was supprised your a Torrhall graduate too..."

"Shouldn't I be surprised, there are very few Torrhall's who make it to Admiral..."

Ewing chuckled slightly..."Captain, time for our salute..."

As the vessels passed into New Sodom Harbor, the crews of the ships appeared in their light blue uniforms, or green Maine uniforms, and saluted the Kahanistan 'flagship'. As the men and women saluted, the Hopeburn's salute gun, a two pounder just below the flag deck, banged out an offical salute.

Twenty minutes later the Klatchian vessels were at rest in the harbor, and a rotodyene launched from the landing deck of the Hopeburn; destination Metzuda

(OOC1: I'm not going to Rp other player's responses but in general..the responses would vary greatly. Foddians would love the nudity and liberal sex, the Vrakians would likely be vocally disapproving, the Dyellians would agree...and then proceed to join in...the Alconians wouldn't say much and just congregate in the bars...basicly a wide spectrum of responses within the Klatchian population)
(note: D.B. hasn't given me his new designs yet so this is primarily Alconian craft at the moment, but we have the largest navy/presense in the JDF anyway...and D.B. is still years behind we likely wouldn't be using them as...'front line units' :rolleyes: )

The Praetonian-built Royal Sovereign class warship (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10447047&postcount=3) RKS Imperator Marum returned the salute by firing off its ETC guns at high angle, so the shells would fall harmlessly into the water.

The Kahanistanians had put a viewscreen in the command ship for communications; the bridge would look like something from Star Trek to fans, but was completely compatible with webcam technology of 2000. Assuming the Klatchians also had viewscreens (a pretty big assumption) they would see the face of an ethnic Iranian woman in her late fifties, dressed in the uniform and insignia of a Kahanistanian Fleet Admiral. She had medals up and down her chest from various nations and conflicts over her 30-plus years of service.

Even if they didn't have viewscreens, they would hear her voice over the comm, a gravelly older woman's voice with an Israeli accent.

"Hello, and welcome to Kahanistan. This is Fleet Admiral Raghad Nazmareh, the supreme commander of the Kahanistanian fleet. I'll be seeing you in Metzuda."

Within ten minutes, a helicopter took off from the deck of the warship, heading for the capital. Like most members of the General Staff, Admiral Nazmareh knew how to fly the chopper, but had an experienced pilot in the helicopter with her who could take over in a weather or mechanical emergency. It would arrive in about five hours.

It was unusual to have a return salute when visiting a Navy without a Monarch or President aboard, and even more disturbing to use a capital ship's main battery.

The Hopeburn didn't have a 'viewscreen' in the traditional sense but a tactical holotank on the flag bridge.

The technologies were not completely compatible without proper connection, unfortunately the rather young flag lieutenant had not been expecting any kind of electronic signal hail. The corresponding view that Fleet Admiral Raghad Nazmareh received looked something like a panoramic picture that had been compressed horizontally to fit into the viewscreen.

The flag lieutenant just blinked a few times, then replied in a Dyellian accent "Thank you...on behalf of the Federation we are pleased to be here..."

Metzuda
Rotodyenes had been used by the Alconians because of their longer range and higher horizontal speed induced by the forward rotors. They were not completely capable of VTOL liftoff or landing, and tended to need to 'circle' if they attempted to hover. However, the Naval SR Rotodyene could out pace most helicopters by a good twenty percent.

Of course it would have been in poor taste to arrive before their host, so the Rotodyene fell behind the Kahanistanian helicopter and followed it across the countryside.
*****

Max Cohen was sitting watching the countryside flash by below as Admiral Ewing sat playing with a pencil and paper.

Cohen looked over, "What are you trying to do over there with all those numbers?"

The Admiral shifted slightly, "I am trying to figure out how huge a sucking noise keeping that mega ship in operation should be costing the locals in terms of a budget. Along with what else we know about their economics and present naval deployments."

"Well..."

"That thing has got to be a massive hole in the budget, Hell you could man almost eight heavy cruisers with the personnel one of those ships takes in. And not to mention the maintenance and operating costs of a ship sitting on 20+ inch ETC ammo, that stuff doesn't just age all that well."

Cohen shrugged, "I don't see the point...I mean yes they seem to be making rather poor economic decisions in terms of their naval deployments but..."

"I think they pulled her out of ordinary for our visit..."

"You mean they pulled her out to impress us?"

"Yes..."

"Unfortunately, it hasn't impressed us all that much. I mean the last battle I was in was against a Sky Furnace..."

"You were on that mission against Melkor, you look a bit young."

"Midshipmen cruise Admiral..." Max smiled bitterly, "We went into hell itself following Ur and the only reason I survived was we realized retreat was the better part of valor when the space forces didn't show up."

The helicopter took five hours crossing the various plains, grasslands, forests, hills... and heavy defensive fortifications surrounding the capital.

Luckily, the Admiral had signaled ahead of time so that the AAA and SAM's would not fire on the visiting delegation.

Within the capital, a room had been cleared in the Defense Ministry headquarters for a meeting...

It was a good thing that the Klatchian IFF code was recognized. Blowing up an unarmed Rotodyene would have likely caused a rather abrupt end to any negotations not involving threats of war.

The Klatchians pervious invasion had been rather horrific actually, they had turned the captial city of Neo Tyr into a lake by their actions. (And the former Federation state of Mildonia had taken eight million or so as slaves.)

As the Rotodyene set down on the tarmac, the engines quited and a marine appeared lowering the gangway. A moment later the Admiral, in a blue grey uniform, and Max Cohen appeared and walked down onto the tarmac.

Admiral Ewing was a man of medium height and broad waist who looked something like the actor Edward Robinson. Narrow eyes set into a broad face with a small nose and thin mouth.

Max of course was in a tailored dark linen suit with a blue shirt and red tie. He looked like a central casting dream for 'Male Aryan' with his slightly too long blond hair wiped up by the dying rotor of the rotodyene.

In their wake followed a rather bewildered looking naval lieutenant who was carrying the Admiral's attache case.

OOC: FYI, I used to be Holy Paradise.

IC: John Holtz received the report from the Main Roadie to the President.

AIA(ACDCian Intelligence Agency), Department DDDDC(Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap)
Subj: Tensions
According to our sources, Doomingsland and Kahanistan are quite ticked off at each other. Kahanistan believes the Doomani are going to kill numerous Kahanistani officials. No further info as that's all our budget can allow us to get. (Hint hint)

For those about to rock, we salute you!

Admiral Nazmareh left the pilot seat of her military helicopter and stepped out. She extended her hand to the delegation.

"Fleet Admiral Nazmareh. This is Iosif Malakov, the Deputy Minister of Defense." She nodded to a tall man in his 60's in full military uniform. Like Nazmareh, he had several decades' worth of combat decorations and other military medals adorning his chest.

Malakov nodded. He extended his hand to the delegates. "We should be conducting the meeting in about an hour."

"Mr. McKimble is in the Defense Ministry complex, waiting for the meeting to start," said Nazmareh.

As the Admiral walked, it would become visible that her right arm was damaged and she had minimal use of it.

Max Cohen smiled brightly, "Maximilian Cohen, Interum Director, it is an honor Admiral" he gave a short headbow as he shook hands with Nazmareh, "And this is Admrial Ewing, JDF Olympic Fleet Commander, Haven Sector" Max indicated the Klatchian Admiral.

The Admiral had noticed all the medals but since he didn't know if Kahanistan was one of those counties that gave out bits of ribbon and brass for real fighting, or just being able to piss in a bucket on instruction. Then there were those foreign officers who suddenly 'gained' medals as they rose up the ranks for 'not' shooting people, and 'actions unknown at the time'; beuracrats who awarded themselves a piss pot of medals when they were in power to make up for the lack of any real combat experience. Ewing couldn't make any jugement call based on the medals, one never could these days.

"And Minister Malakov, so nice of you to meet with us" Cohen continued with the practiced air of someone who had to deal with foreign dignitaries on a regular basis.

Admrial Ewing nodded and shook Admiral Nazmareh's hand, "Quite nice to meet you Admiral, and on behalf of the Federation we thank you for your salute. And my flag lieutenant, Lieutenant Ap Bergus..."

Cohen and Ewing exchanged glances at his last name.

The Klatchians followed their hosts a step back.

Malakov led the group to his car. Most Kahanistanian officials drove their own cars and saved on drivers. Malakov's vehicle wasn't much to look at; an old yellow four-door sedan that looked about twenty years old. He started the engine and put the car into gear.

"We're heading to the Defense Ministry. Mr. McKimble will be there," he said.

There were relatively few cars in Kahanistan, but there were some. Most of the people had abandoned theirs in the Negev during their flight from Doomingsland; a few had taken them and some had managed to import; a domestic car production line was in its infancy.

After ten minutes they arrived at a large building. "This is the Defense Ministry," said Nazmareh. A short, thin, red-haired man in a suit and tie stood outside. He looked about 40 years old and was smoking a long pipe.

"That's Angus McKimble, Minister of Commerce," said Malakov. He parked the car next to the building, which was marked "MINISTRY OF DEFENSE."

Miana International Airport
MAX Airport out of Miana was one of the few airports in the entire Homeland to offer services to Doomanum - two flights per day, the planes more sparsely packed since the Whyatican Empire left APOC. Diplomatic missions continued to be sent to Doomanum, but as tensions began to rise, these, too, were sent less and less often. Today security was far higher, as a special passenger jet was loaded, high military escort around the region. The Whyatican Emperor himself, Paulus I, was preparing to make a trip to Doomanum, for a diplomatic talk with his relation, Maximus. Maximus and Paulus had considered each other friends since Paulus was young - Paulus' Questarian wife was somehow related to Maximus' Praetonian wife, making a bizarre and convoluted chain of family in between them.

Maximus was truly the only Doomani Paulus could stand to be in the same room with, and that was not saying a whole lot. As the execution blood games had been broadcasted in Whyatica, thanks to the free market, the general opinion of Doomanum went down among the people because of the horrifingly bloody executions. The plane would arrive in Doomingsland in about 36 hours, a short extra-Haven trip. Paulus knew, expected, that the only thing keeping him on speaking terms with Maximus was their tenuous familial ties. Any other ties of friendship or alliance were destroyed some time ago..

Kahanistani Embassy, Venture Island
"Well, I can call you a limousine or a helicopter to bring you to the airport, and the next commercial flight to Kahanistan will likely leave tonight." the guard said, grabbing his radio unit.

Metzuda, Kahanistan
"Keith McGowen at your service." the Whyatican man said, before turning around and yelling out an order to the workers unloading.

"1 million prefabricated houses and change, all we need is to hire a ton of work crews to snap these together and get them power and water. Can probably get all these up by the end of the week, more are coming from Whyatica."

Venture Island

The Minister smiled. "Thanks. Where should I go to wait?" She didn't want to talk to the guard while he was on duty; she may have had little regard for protocol in general, but security was another matter.

---

Metzuda

Minister Valera smiled. Maybe we can have this homelessness problem eradicated... He hoped that the Nationalist Party could somehow claim credit for eradicating the homelessness problem, by claiming the secession from Midlonia was their idea. That woman isn't doing so badly as a Foreign Minister.

Metzuda, Ministry of Defense

The Klatchians seemed to almost explode out of the car like it was a clown car. None had complained, but the tight fit hadn't exactly been welcome either. At least it had been a short drive.

Max had been noting the rather 'sparse' structure of the Kahanistan government and wondered how much of the former government was now currently in Doomingsland, or in Doomingsland captive animal population.

Max adjusted his tie and smiled at the Commerce Minster, "Ah Mr. McKimble, Max Cohen of the Klatchian Development Fund."

"Things seem to be getting serious there, sir." a Groupie to the President said to John Holtz. "They are entering diplomatic meetings."

"Is there anyway we can get involved in this? Peacefully...I mean." John replied.

"I suggest you call Kahanistan. They'd probably like any support they can get." the groupie suggested.

"Very good. Please leave." John said, dialing up the number of the leader or leaders of Kahanistan (Intelligence is not sure.)

OOC: Don't treat me like a n00b, I used to own a very large nation named Holy Paradise who was allies with D & K.

(OOC: I remember Holy Paradise, we were allies early in the Kraven War. Why not have your nation restored? You seem to be using the same characters, I remember President Holtz.)

McKimble nodded. "Angus McKimble, Minister of Commerce. The meeting is schedued to begin in fifteen minutes." He led the delegations to a conference room with five seats.

Presidential Palace

President Khalid bin Abdullah al-Omari answered his phone. "Hello."

http://www.chechnyawar.com/flags/coat_arms_small.jpg
Official Communique from the Republic of Groznyj to Kahanistan
From the Office of the President

To whomsoever is now in charge of Kahanistan, I bid you good tidings. I know you undoubtedly have little time to read mail but I am certain you want to hear this and I will be brief.

Firstly, I want to personally apologize for not coming to your nation's aid during its unfortunate war with Doomingsland. Until recently, we as a nation believed we would be better off, and safer, if we kept to our own business. Sadly, we were wrong... very wrong. After having our peaceful Arterusian colony of Yeltsmin attacked by a coalition of evil powers led by the Kraven Corporation, a name I know you know so well, we have learned that one cannot peacefully coexist with a hostile neighbor without being stabbed in the back. Therefore, as you read this, a Groznian special operations team is in the Negev assisting anti-Doomanii insurgents, and arms are being sent across the border. This is only the first step in our involvement.

But now, to matters more immediately affecting you. Below you will see a space with my signature and an empty one below that. With only a returned copy of this message bearing your signature my nation will begin sending supplies, goods, and relief workers to your new land, as well as financial aid, as I am sure you need it.

Again, I offer my most sincere apologies for not coming to your people's aid sooner and hopefully we can help in another way. You do not need to worry about repaying any future debts to us for the time being. The Republic of Groznyj is more than economically capable of the task. Take this as an offer of friendship.


Ramzan Urmev

Khalid bin Abdullah al-Omari

P.S. Be sure to advise our financial department on what kinds of economic support your nation requires. Peace be upon you.

Official Announcement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Ministry of Foreign Affairs

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

The Government of Kahanistan is most grateful for this assistance in our hour of need. As to our most urgent needs, they are constructing homes, educational and medical facilities, and emergency services.

Then, we plan to construct more factories to produce basic consumer goods.

We ask if your nation would be interested in the offer of a mutual defense pact. Many times we have been abandoned by our allies in a time of need, the most recent being the Doomani invasion in which none of our allies rose to the cause before the fall of our Negev lands.


Signed,
Rachel C. Levitt,
Minister of Foreign Affairs

"The helicopter will be here in a couple minutes, so go back into your embassy, go up the stairs and the helipad exit is the third door on your left." the guard said, flipping on his radio unit and saying, "Request transport helo, embassy Kilo-Tango-Alpha-November. One for transport to International airport."

The response from the main security office came back affirmative, and the guard went back to his standard duties, sorta staring at nothing to get his wage.

Metzuda Airport
McGowen turned around to the silent Kahanistani man and said, "I need you to go round up as many people that have working experience as you can, the more the better. The Whyatican government's paying them for their services, we just need a mess of people and quickly. And I'll need to commandeer as many big trucks as you've got available, the halftracks and trucks I've got won't be enough."

Metzuda, Ministry of Defense

Cohen and Ewing took two seats on one side of the table and the flag lieutenant stood behind them both.

Levitt smiled. "Thanks." She walked back in, followed the stairs, and stood on the helipad to wait for her lift to the International Airport to go home.

---

Metzuda

The Interior Minister nodded and shouted orders to two aides with him. They made phone calls and within five minutes the city's loudspeakers bellowed out that the Whyaticans were offering work to the unemployed.

Within half an hour, a vast mob of over 100,000 people stampeded toward the Whyaticans' trucks. About 100 Kahanistanian trucks were with them; trucks and motor vehicles in general were still rare.

---

Defense Ministry

Nazmareh, McKimble, and Malakov sat down across from the Klatchians. "First off," said McKimble, "we need to get an economy, and fast. We need this before we can even think about rebuilding our military. Of course, we could go on a war footing and start the economy that way, but if we try that here... the only war we'll be fighting is a civil war. The people are tired of constant warfare."