NationStates Jolt Archive

EYES ONLY - CLASS 8 CLEARANCE REQUIRED

If you are reading this document, and you are a person without the rank of Grand Marshall, Commissar, Intelligence Director or Interior Minister, you are currently commiting a crime punishable by death. We strongly suggest you immidiately burn the documents you are in possession of and purchase a plane ticket to a nation as far removed from Kroando as possible.

This document is the only official proof that Kroando has anything to do with the conflicts to come. This comes from the desk of Commissar Davis, and must not go beyond the eyes of the nine men it has been sent to. This document is the only binding proof linking Kroando to the attacks on Central Prestonia.

Intell. Central Prestonia produces 3.5 trillion barrels of oil per year, an amount which is far to great for a nation of it's magnitude to possess. We must limit it's financial power immidiately and completely. Though we have no past hostilities with the nation, Helicon Inc. is losing massive amounts of international power due to the gains made by Prestonia, and has cost Kroando billions in tax revenue for those reasons. Further strengthening of Central Prestonia's position is intolerable, and I leave it to you men to limit and destroy these oil producing capabilities.

I will not elaborate beyond this. You have your mission. Burn this document now.

[END]

The Intelligence Agencies, the Military Heads and the top ministers in Kroando unanimously picked up lighters, which came in the envelopes, lit them and burned the documents they had just read. The mission was engrained in their heads, the heads which lead Kroando. And now they had their mission. The destruction of Prestonian Oil capabilities. It would happen in many ways. First through naval strikes under the guise of piracy. Then through 'terrorist' attacks throughout the oil refineries of the nation. And finally through means which were not yet clear to anyone, but would reveal themselves in due time.

This would be a war unlike many throughout the world in many ways. The primary difference would be it's obvious lack of mass bloodshed. There would be no leveling of cities. No tank advances, no infantry charges, no mass death for many insignificant goals, such as the gaining of a city, or holding a bridge, or knocking out a RADAR tower. All of these objectives in wars would cost massive amounts of life... hundreds, thousands per day for no real reason. This conflict would be the opposite. Losses in life would be limited to a few unfortunate sailors, oil operators and rig drillers. The losses would be negligable, but the effects great. This war needed to be fought, the greatest oil producer in the world needed to be brought down, as it's production was simply far, far too great. They produced 3.5 Trillion Barrels... this was simply too much, far more than the world needed, their production alone dropped the world's price dramatically.

Another difference would be that Prestonia would never know who they were at war with. Their enemy would be invisible, and strike often and quickly. They could never strike back... at the most they may inflict casualties while they were being attacked... but never could they strike at the enemy itself. Kroando on the other hand... the people of Kroando... the military of Kroando... Kroando as a whole would never know it was at war. Only small contingents of agents and special troops would know, and even their knowledge would be minimal.

By the end of it, the Prestonian economy would lay in ruins... the world economy... would flourish.

[Central Prestonia, if you could, I could use a map of your nation, and a map of your major oil facilities (including sea rigs, land fields, refineries, tanker docks and transit areas)

And of course, this is nothing personal. You are the largest oil exporter. This makes you powerful. And this makes you a target.]

OOC: Oooh, goody, someone attacking CP... *Blows Trumpet* "UFAN, charge!!!!!" lol. Consider yourself tagged! Or maybe I should let him burn for being retarded... *mulls it over* One way or another, I shall return! *rides out in a wave of glory*

OOC: Considering means of mine also newly in Prestonia due to a timely pullout of mine from elsewhere, to be revealed ICly here, this is also hereby tagged. I need some covert-warfare work for my Marines anyway, so booyah!:cool:

OOC: If any of this leaks, Kroando's forces in CP will feel the wrath of my elite Ghost ops

OOC: They have reserves of 3.5 trillion barrells, they don't produce that much per day. Reserves is how much you have period. Proven reserves is how much you know you have. Production is different.

Edit: Ah he rewrote it since I saw.
Yea that's too much export. Enjoy.

OOC: If any of this leaks, Kroando's forces in CP will feel the wrath of my elite Ghost ops
[You still have not yet replied to my attack on your forces when you invaded Hexon. I will be ignoring any attack on my nation by you until you respond to it.]

OOC: A little economic warfare, is it? Interesting. I think I'll tag this one and wait and see if Prestonia's planning on responding. Might be just the thing to clear the cobwebs out after my ten month hiatus from the forums.

(OOC: TAG, if this turns into a war you can put money down for Blackhelm suddenly appearing from nowhere :P)

((OOC: Tag, I also like oil ))

OOC: Tag

[Bump.]

[You still have not yet replied to my attack on your forces when you invaded Hexon. I will be ignoring any attack on my nation by you until you respond to it.]

OOC: they were all KIA, didnt I already post that?

[No, you posted them setting up camp, and nothing else. But anyways, no more in this thread, I don't want CP to have to look through two pages of OOC to post.]

OOC: I currently have no map, but I can tell you that my nation is a large Pacific island flanked by several smaller islands and my oil rigs are located off the northern coast. Also, I'm assuming you haven't sent any forces yet.
Presidential Mansion, President's Office
Hudson
0900 Hours
Pres. Justin Gannon sat at his desk, reading the Hudson Herald. It had been a good day thus far for news. Unemployment was down, confidence was up, and Hudson United had beaten St. Andrews 3-0 to clinch the Prestonian Cup. Satisfied, Gannon flipped to the business section. What he saw on the front page almost made him spit his coffee out in horror. Written in large print boldface was "REPUBLIC OIL INCREASES EXPORTS." Reading further, he discovered the full truth. Republic Oil, the company his predecessor had put on it's feet after buying from Britain, was exporting 3.5 billion barrels, sending prices plummeting. "Crazy bastard. He's gonna start a war!," exclaimed the President with a mix of anger and fear. Quickly picking up the telephone, he summoned the heads of Naval Command to the War Room.

Fifteen minutes later, the Naval Command had assembled in the protected underground bunker that served as the Presidential War Room. After a hurried Pledge of Loyalty, the officers were seated. The tension could be cut with a knife. Most of the times they had been summoned here, they knew why. Not this time. Standing, Justin threw the Business section towards the center of the table. "Have a look at that, gentlemen. Republic Oil's exporting enough to fuck with international crude prices. Now, who can name somebody who might be pissed at that? Correct answer is Griffencrest Oil. Now, we cannot let our economy be ruined because of some asspig's greed. I already sent the CEO an angry letter, but I want our offshore fields protected. First Fleet will mobilize to the Elysian Fields and provide support for the rigs. I want a picket line on the edge of our international waters. From now until the coast is clear, if a seagull flies into our territory I want to know about it. Understood? Good, dismissed."

Hudson AB; Hudson, Prestonia
Standing on the tarmac outside her makeshift office, Field Marshal Eileen Millenhaus of the Wagdian Red Army surveyed the massive movement of troops and equipment into Prestonia underway; as well as glancing sidelong at a local newspaper she'd purchased which blazed headlines about the Prestonians' gutsy move to buy out Griffincrest Oil. Regarding this, her thoughts ran in an all-too-predictable pattern. I think we know who's not going to be happy about that...

Claudius Griffincrest and the Corporate Alliance's known vindictiveness towards any real "competition" despite their capitalist values notwithstanding, this deployment hadn't actually been meant as a response to the current matter. Rather, the Doomani threat to Generia having been eclipsed by more pressing matters within Wagdog's own region pertaining to the simmering Vetakan-Ennuisian showdown, it had been decided that relocating Wagdog's massive Generian-based forces to within UFAN territory easily beyond Lazarus but capable of acting there still was a prudent idea. Hence, Marshal Millenhaus was yet again overseeing the short-notice deployment of a truly prodigious military force; ten combined air/land Army Groups, fully a quarter of Wagdog's Army and its associated Air Force for her part to command.

The massed tanks and assorted support vehicles rolled off of the transports rotating the troops in under fighter escort as the deployment rolled on. Finding space enough for these men, despite not only Hudson AB being used but also Rigley, Mackall and St. Lewis airbases too plus Port St. Andrews for the shipborne lifts. And given the universally Kriegzimmer and Candrian or UFAN-wide equipment standards employed by these troops, unlike the more-typical Czechalrussian equipment employed by Wagdian forces aside from the Candrian-standardized air arms, this quarter was for now the proverbial 'tip of the spear' for the United Socialist States' military power. Yes, thought Marshal Millenhause raucously, ...and this girl's going to use that spear if needed; show the little boys how it's done and all. Having seen occupation duty in rough places such as Strator and Zanski, this was no idle thought from a flag officer of Eileen Millenaus' skills.

As some of the men turned to drills with their newly-arrived E-19 assault rifles, the Prestonian-designed article that was becoming popular among UFAN forces, and the infamous Allanean bayonets that had been purchased in bulk to equip Wagdog's particular E-19 stock, just how serious a thought Marshal Millenhaus' was could be discerned readily. Even if less important than it was in some other forces, bayonet drill was still used daily as a cohesion-builder and skill-broadening tool for Wagdog's soldiers. In the vast majority of instances, it wouldn't be needed at all. But all the same, it was deemed prudent to include for all the various other reasons: having a multipurpose tool around in the bayonet if designed properly, building aggression in the naturally reluctant to kill, building discipline in the naturally unruly more importantly, and in general as but one part of seeing to it that those who started recruits both became and (most of all) remained soldiers at heart. So far, to Marshal Millenhaus' eye, the soldiers already arrived were keeping to this standard; and she expected no less of those yet coming in as the whine of aircraft of all types arriving and taking off continued.

Port St. Andrews; St. Andrews, Prestonia
Fleet Admiral Jennifer Opalclaw surveyed the massive force, some four numbered fleets strong, arriving into harbor just now. Clearly, after a seemingly endless time spent under the shadow of the Holy Empire of Doomingsland's eye preparing for the ultimate showdown yet imagined by her government, even accounting for the allies it would've had in such, some shore leave for the men was required. If only Blackhelm would be a good little capitalist and just accept the offer... She had seen the news on local TV broadcasts as well, when visiting the various rec rooms, and knew of what controversy was brewing over Prestonia's booming oil industry. That way, we could make our little break time a fair one. And so it would be given, with morale fortunately being higher than Admiral Opalclaw's thoughts might make one think had they been spoken aloud; being even this much closer to home could have that effect of course.

But all the same, despite the mighty battleships and numerous escorts pulling in for momentary stand-down and repair, or the carriers and their sky-blackening air wings still patrolling over the horizon for any remote threat, a general feeling couldn't be shaken from the fleet that this was merely the calm before a very bad storm. They all had seen the news, had heard of the goings on in Vetaka and Mer des Ennuis; and understood in their guts what it meant even if their minds tried to reach for the optimistic view of what might happen. They knew, as only line sailors and marines can know, that all too soon their nation and its closest allies would be locked with yet another enemy in a duel for more than just some other nation's fate; and far more than just some abstruse political principles besides. This time, the war would be for one thing alone: survival. Either they would win, or the only ones bearing Vetakan or Wagdian and so on nationalities would be exiles abroad; no doubt stateless and marked, to be hunted by any or all whom their governments had offended in one or another way and then saw fit to collect on the blood debt in the wake of any defeat, such as the feared and hated Doomani Manus Dei or perhaps the Nicksyllvanian Reichskommissariat.

But then again, the thought of such a fate was why they were in service to begin with. To deliver their own people and their allies as well from the threats of penury, of tyranny, or of wanton murder, these many had accepted the call to train as laid down by law. And once trained, had further agreed to either return to civil life under reserve obligation, or else serve on as part of the smaller peacetime forces. Hence, while thoughts of pending war to the death occupied the Wagdian fleets' and their sailors' minds, the routines of docking and disembarking for a rotating repair and patrol schedule took over. Who knew how soon they might be tested?

OOC: This is my IC in, and yes I'd planned this roughly a day before this precise thread came into being; but I must give thanks for the chance to ICly detail it all the same.;) Anyway, unit ORBATs are below; multiply these by ten for the Army Groups and four for the Fleet Groups, and you've got what's deploying to Prestonia for my part, mostly as preparation for another conflict thread entirely. Note that the precise equipment is different from what one would normally see in my use, since I bought a ton of Kreigzimmer gear for the late Generia deployment and am now sending it to Prestonia; among other places of course.:D

USSW Army Group Brief TO&E
Field Army
195,000 Personnel
3500 Nakíl 1A1GU MBTs, 1000 Ashurbanipal Light Tanks, 1000 Fernántes AVLBs
5000 Shalmaneser APCs, 1000 G11/G Tank Destroyers
1000 Dejíard Assault Guns, 450 Corbulo Motorized Guns
400 Gertantel SP Guns, 300 Asnít MLRS, 450 RK-55/555 SS-C-4 Slingshot GLCMs, 300 Regisnár SRBMs
2250 Praetorian II SAMs, 1000 SPAA-1 SPAA
12000 Ural 4320 Medium and 5250 MAZ-543 Heavy Trucks.

Air Force
150,000 Personnel
250 FA-16B Priest Air Superiority Fighters
250 FA-15D Cardinal Multirole Fighters
100 B-22 Zeus Strategic Bombers
100 An-72 Coaler
Light, 50 Il-76 Candid Medium Medum, 50 An-124 Condor Heavy, 50 An-225 Cossack Superheavy Cargo Aircraft
50 AH-35 War Bird Attack, 150 Ki-1T Utility, 50 Mi-26 Halo Cargo Helicopters
1250 Ki-1TVK Assault Helicopters
100 A-50 Mainstay AWACS
100 Il-78 Midas Tankers
100 Il-76PP Jammers
375 BKCh-1 APCs
7500 Ural 4320 Medium and 750 MAZ-543 Heavy Trucks
Total: 345,000 Personnel with Assets Indicated.

Standard USSW Fleet Group Brief TO&E
Numbered Fleet
~175,000 Personnel
5 Tri Svyatitelya Supercarriers (CVBN)
5 Peter the Great Heavy Battleships (BBBN)
25 Yekaterina Large Cruisers (CBN)
60 Danechka-Mod Destroyers (DDN)
25 Vladimir Submarines (SSN)
5 Bear Assault Ships (LHAN)
5 The People's Class UNREP Ships (AOEN)
5 Vol'nitsa Hospital Ships (AHN)
5 The People's Class AU1 RO-RO Transport Ships (ARKN)

Marine Division (Garrison-Reinforced)
48,000 Personnel
700 Nakíl 1A1GU MBTs, 200 G11/G Tank Destroyers, 200 Fernántes AVLBs
1200 Shalmaneser APCs, 200 Ashurbanipal Light Tanks
300 Dejíard Assault Guns, 225 Corbulo Motorized Guns
120 Gertantel SP Guns, 60 Asnít MLRS, 60 Regisnár SRBMs
450 Praetorian II SAMs, 200 SPAA-1 SPAA
2700 DOZOR-B Light, 600 Ural-4320 Medium and 600 MAZ-543 Heavy Trucks

Marine Air Wing (Reinforced)
~43,000 Personnel
500 FA-16A Priest Air Superiority Fighters
2500 FA-15E Cardinal Multirole Fighters
450 U/SH45 Sky/Sea Lord Helicopters, 1000 Ki-1TVK Assault Helicopters, 150 AH-35 War Bird Attack Helicopters
50 B-22 Zeus Strategic Bombers
50 An-72 Coaler Light, 50 Il-76 Candid Medium Medium, 50 An-124 Condor Heavy Transports
50 A-50 Mainstay AWACS
50 Il-78 Midas Tankers
50 Il-76PP Jammers
40 Shalmaneser APCs
1500 Ural 4320 Medium and 150 MAZ-543 Heavy Trucks
Total: ~266,000 Personnel with Assets Indicated.

127km's North of Prestonian National Waters - International Shipping Lane

Aboard The T.S.S. Valkor

The T.S.S. Valkor, a Macabee built Tenerife SSH (http://z14.invisionfree.com/Kroando_Tech_Inc/index.php?showtopic=20), sat quietly under the warm waters of the Pacific, some twenty miles east of the largest shipping lane out of Prestonia, one that had been watched thuroughly over the last several weeks. Satellites scanned this stretch of international water thuroughly, monitering not only the merchant ships moving to and fro, but also the military vessels which cut through the waters. Everything was seen, and everything was noted. The single submarine sat with the capability to knock out any of the ships which ignorantly moved before it, but it did not. It simply sat, and waited.

However on one seemingly random day, the order came in. The submarine itself had been running on ultra-silent, which means that absolutely nothing was running. No motors. No SONAR. Nothing but a single computer consol which recieved signals from a satellite miles above. That satellite was relaying targeting information to the submarine, and the submarine was in turn targeting a massive oil tanker with the data being recieved. The tanker was massive... needless to say due to it being an oil tanker, carrying so many millions of barrels of oil.

The computer began chirping, and the transmission came in, highly coded, and sent on a link used only by selevt KRIA Units.

Order 79102 - A - 3531 - Alpha - 3 is hereby confirmed.

The paper was printed out, and torn from the fax machine like device. The Corporal walked through the command deck with a sense of stern responsibility, the red light filling the room glistening off of the sweat running down his scarred cheek. He approached Captain Bern and handed him the paper without saying a word. The Captain looked it over, looked at the Corporal and looked the paper over again. Both knew exactly what the message meant. The aged officer ran his calaced hand through his buzzed gray hair and nodded, a silent indication that the Corporal should return to his station. "All men to battle stations."

"Target aquired... Captain, we have confirmation of target 07732, and have permission to engage.", the young officer informed the the captain, whom stood staring at the screen. "Arm torpedo tubes one, two, five and six.", called Bern. "Aye aye sir... torpedo tubes one, two, five and six armed!", regurgitated one of the many computer operators. "Set for simultanious fire...", the Captain spoke, a sense of nervousness and anticipation overwhelming the entire room. "Steady... steady... fire.", the Captain ordered, and no more than a second later, the torpedo tubes at the front of the vessel unleashed four 500mm MT-4 torpedo's, all speeding right ahead for the massive oil tanker. Oil Tankers had the movement capabilities of mountains... taking kilometers to speed up or slow down, and equal amounts of space to turn. The target was so massive... and so vulnerable, it was a naval commanders dream come true. The torpedo's had but to close twenty kilometers...

Hudson, Prestonia

Jack Rodgers, a native of Kampfers, a respected business man, a man of overwhelming charm and honesty, stepped off the large civilian transport plane. He was in the banking business, and was in Prestonia on vacation. As a fellow UFAN nation, the two obviously would see a good deal of commerce, and due to Prestonia's ideal location in the Pacific, it was a grand location to go on a relaxing vacation. The man hailed the first cab outside of the airport, and booked a room in one of the many hotels in the city.

KARO Special Agent Erdan Riklor stepped off of the same plane, at the same airport, at the same exact time. Erdan Riklor was a sociopathic murderer with the morals of satin. He would do whatever, to whomever, for any reason... as long as his nation required it. Orphaned at birth, he was raised in a military institution. By the time he was eighteen, he was serving in the Kroandon 7th Legion in the conquest of Northern Pangia. By the time he was twenty four, he was a member of Human Order's Inquisition, killing former members of the High Council under the personal instruction of Commissar Davis himself. And now at thirty two, he was in Prestonia with the goal of causing chaos and misery to the Republic Oil coporation.

What did these two men have in common? They were the same man. Through the work of the sprawling Kroandon Intelligence System, his identity had been remade, with enough paperwork and documentation to place him in a Kampferian hospital at the time of his birth. He could have slipped into any country in the world with the logistical backing he had... and Prestonia was that country.

Upon entering his hotel room he looked to the bed. A black suitcase sat upon it. Waiting for him. It was like clockwork now, a routine... however his contact had promised that this would be like nothing he had ever done before. He entered the pre-determined lock combo, opened the briefcase and smiled.

[What kind of security do you have at your oil refineries? And where, in relation to Hudson, are they?]

OOC: Given my government's recent concern about our oil assets, rig and refinery security is pretty tight. The refineries are located mostly on the coast, but attacking them will be tough given the extra security.
IC:

M/V Black Dawn
Republic Oil Corporation Tanker
0400 Hours

Capt. David Alexander slept soundly. Having given the bridge to his second-in-command for nightwatch, he retired to his modest bunk. His ship was en route to Wagdog, delivering 750,000 tons of light sweet crude. Capt. Alexander was no stranger to risk; on the contrary it seemed to follow him everywhere. First there was the shipping of priceless Vetakan treasures while working for Prestonian Pacific Trading, and before that twenty years in the navy. He had hoped to put the danger behind him in taking this job, but alas fate had not willed it. Tired of life at sea, this was to be the last of his many voyages. Hardly a fitting retirement for the captain that had led the Gens Romae campaign, but oh well. His various employers all offered good pensions, so he would never have to be the archetypal old sea salt, sitting in a saloon and telling the young ones stories of life at sea. Suddenly, a loud boom awoke him. Quickly dressing and running to the bridge, he discovered the ship in flames and listing heavily. "Give out the SOS and abandon ship! We're taking on too much water!," he shouted. Frantic crewmen rushed toward the life rafts as he tried frantically to radio the nearest vessel for aid. He also contacted the crew leaders, trying to determine if any of the oil tanks had leaked or caught fire. There had been nothing out of the ordinary. Stunned, he resigned himself to the fact that whatever had done this was outside the ship. "Those Griffencrest pigs! They shall burn in hell!," he shouted as his ship tipped forward. He was going down with her, like a true captain. As his bow slowly plummeted toward the watery grave, he could be heard to sing Nearer my God to Thee, in homage to his favorite ship, the Titanic. After a half hour, the ship finally passed beneath the waves. The first casualties had been recorded in what was looking to be a long and ugly economic war.

CPS Upshaw
La Fayette Class Frigate
50 miles away

Commander Atticus Larson stood outside the bridge and peered out on the night sky. The moon was large and bright in the sky, flanked by the stars. It was a beautiful sight. Larson reflected on his career in the navy to himself as he stared out on the still, glass-like water. He had joined the navy at seventeen, a young boy ready to head off to sea and see the world. He excelled in engineering, having lived near St. Andrews Ironworks his entire life, and was accepted into officer school. Now, five years later at the tender age of 21, he had his own ship. Granted, she was a frigate, but to him she was the world. He had turned down a spot on Indomitable to have her. As he reflected on a successful career that would surely see him make Admiral, a noise broke into his thoughts. The alarm of an urgent message brought him back to the present day. As he rushed into his wheelhouse, the second officer of the deck opened the message and began reading. "SOS SOS M/V Black Dawn taking on water possibly torpedoed, send aid ASAP," the officer and captain read aloud together. "We have to help them, we're the closest thing to them. Ahead flank speed, raise the crew!" came the order. "Ahead flank speed, raise the crew aye sir," came the reply. As Larson collected himself, he noticed another part of the message. It was a streaming video. Opening it, he saw clearly what appeared to be three wakes coming towards the ship before it exploded into a fireball. "Well, Capt. Alexander's hunch was correct. His ship was torpedoed. Send out the chopper, hopefully we can ping the fucker before he bugs out. If I have my way two ships will be at the bottom of Davey Jones' Locker by dawn. I'm also datalinking that vid to the Wagdians. Their fleet's still arriving so they might be in a good position to knock off the sub."

Skys Approcaching Hudson Airbase, Hudson, Prestonia:

As agreed within the hallow halls of UFAN HQ it had been decided that Vetaka and most specifically the Vetakan Defence Forces would play a limited role within Prestonia mostly because of the Mer Des Ennuis Crisis but also because the VDF was deploying to Hamilay yet another UFAN hotspot. The VDF would deploy Special forces to the Prestonian Capital to bolster its defences as well as providing Bomber Support to all Allied Forces within the area of operations.

As a result 20 C-5 Galaxy Heavy Airlift Transports roared on the approach to Hudson flanked by 25 FA-15 Cardinals. The troops of the 1001st Special Operations Group felt weary and to a lessar extent fearful all of them wanted to be back within Vetaka fighting to defend their homes and people yet alas they had their orders and those orders must be executed.

Attached to Field Marshal Eileen Millenhaus of the Wagdian Red Army the 1001st Special Operations Group would carry out any and all orders made by the Field Marshal without question or concern. This blind loyalty to Wagdogian Commanders had been developed from the countless Military Operations Vetaka and Wagdog had participated within together around the world. The VDF & USSW Forces planned operations together as a matter of standard protocal they each held specialist commanders within eachothers High Commands. Under standard protocal the USSW Forces and the VDF operated under eachothers commands within the field under any and all circumstances.

The Lead C-5 Galaxy with Brigidier-General Charles Roland aboard opened its Communication Links and began to request specific landing details. They had been granted permission to enter Prestonia Airspace by their Central Air Command now they required details of where to command:

"Prestonia Central Command, Allied Commander, Come Back? This is VDF 1001st Special Operations Group requesting permission and details of desired landing? Request Deloyment to Wagdog Base of Operations. Our Orders state that we are attached to Field Marshal Eileen Millenhaus of the Wagdian Red Army with the intent to defend Hudson Capital."

Message to Central Prestonia


Greal would like to send some troops to help protect the oil.

From: Greal Government.

Griffencrest Sink's Prestonian Tanker!

... Or so the headlines read. Commissar Davis could only smile as he lay down the still hot paper, knowing that the war to come would be one that would cost many lives... and destroy many enemies. All without shedding a single drop of Kroandon blood. He spoke no words of it at the morning's daily meeting with his cabinet, no words need be spoken. None of them knew of his involvement in the matter, none of them knew any different than the rest of the world. Kroando's war would continue, without a single person knowing that Kroando was at war.

The effects of this war would already be showing up. With a risk to the oil tankers came a risk to the economy. And risk always equates to one thing in the world of business. Money. With the first tanker, of what Davis expected to be many, at the bottom of the ocean, prices would rise. Why? It was not due to the relatively insignificant amount lost in the ocean... no this was not it. It was due to what would occur in Prestonia. The insurance prices on the shipments of oil would rise considerably, for there was obviously an immense risk to their investment. A single insurance company would take a large punch to the face when they compensated Republic Oil for the tanker, and the fuel they had lost. Thus the rates would increase. Additionally the sailors would want more, for no man goes into hostile waters, in which he risks his life, for mere pennies. And thus Republic Oil would slowly have to raise it's prices. Economic war at it's finest. [I am not saying any of that is happening, it's your country, you RP it. I'm just saying what I expected to happen. If it didn't, then fine, it's up to you. Just clarifying that I am not godmodding.]

Outside Small Coastal City, Northern Prestonia - 2:45 AM

The rental sedan slowed to a halt alongside the road in a seemingly random stretch of wooded area, the headlights shutting off moments after Riklor stepped out of the car. The KARO Agent checked his palm pilot once again, watching the blinking green blip that indicated he had reached the drop off point. Placing it in his pocket he walked down a slight hill and into the trees. Though pitch black, Erdan's eyes quickly adjusted, and allowed him to search the area rather efficiently. To the nocturnal animals in the area, a smile came over Riklor's face as he had found his 'treasure'.

The black plastic box, about five feet long and three feet wide was rather heavy, but for the man whom had not left physical surface since he was eight, it was bearable. The box was slid into the back seat, tossed under a blanket and hidden. The sedan, moments later, took off into the darkness.

Two Hours Later - 18 Miles South East of Oil Refinery Plant

The Sedan once again came to a stop, however this time not untill a good deal of off roading had been completed. Stopping in a grassy clearing, Riklor stepped out of the car, and pulled out the box, promptly unsnapping the locks and looking over the equipment.

AvK-2B SteelFire (http://z14.invisionfree.com/Kroando_Tech_Inc/index.php?showtopic=24) was the label upon the missile launcher he pulled out of the box. Three minutes later it was set up, the mortar-looking device loaded with a high explosive missile with a range of 20 miles, and the capability of blowing a tank in two. But it did not work on it's own. High above a satellite was guiding it, marking it's target. The target was the crux of the refinery, in a place where the oil was stored as it finished purification... a place where the oil was now flamable, and capable of spreading. Erdan pressed a few buttons on the side of the device, pulled a trigger and turned his head as the missile shot out of the tube and into the air. The KARO agent didn't wait around. The missile launcher was thrown into the trunk, already opened, and the car soon sped away, heading towards the nearest town or motel, where he would lay low until the inevitable smoke cleared.

OOC: For the sake of saving thread space, I'm going to respond to both the attacks in this post

CPS Upshaw
M/V Black Dawn wreck site
0530 hours

250 men. That was how many had died aboard the tanker. Two hundred fifty sailors, captain included, had gone down with the ship. The survivors huddled together in the galley, wrapped in blankets and eating bows of soup the chefs had so graciously fed them. There were only fifty survivors. As Cdr. Larson came down to the galley, the entire crew, rescued men included, snapped to attention. "At ease men. I've got some news," Larson replied. "For those of you who haven't yet heard, the Black Dawn was torpedoed. We're likely to be at war by week's end. Unfortunately, we didn't get the sub; she must've bugged out as soon as she hit. Don't worry though, this will not happen again. Orders just came down that we're to escort all oil-carrying vessels to and from their destinations. They wanna play commerce raiding, let's see them do it against us!," Larson finished, somewhat defiantly. A cheer went up from the galley. Not a soul was seated as they clapped at the news. A ship had been taken down, lives ruined, and their beloved captain was out for blood. Those who had sailed on Tatum knew that eventually, they would get it. Commander Larson had a knack for getting what he wanted.

Stanleyville Oil Refinery
Outside of Stanleyville
0445 Hours

The sun was creeping over the horizon, and could be seen from the highest smokestacks. From inside the main office, the foreman did the morning's paperwork, while the radio played his favorite song. Today would be a good day. The holding tanks were full of light sweet crude, and were waiting on the trucks to come and deliver them to St. Andrews where they would be offloaded to tankers.
From there, the oil would be sent to allies of the Prestonian Republic. It was a highly efficient operation, and this one refinery raked in millions of dollars a week. Suddenly, an explosion interrupted the humdrum activity in Stanleyville, a small town best known for it's Vetakan diner. Looking out the window of his office, the foreman saw what every refinery worker fears. His storehouse had been hit, and the fire was spreading. Quickly dialing 911, he raised the alarm to his workers. they valiantly worked to contain the flames, which were now threatening to destroy the entire complex. As he stepped out of the office, a secondary explosion rocked him to the ground. All around him, everything flammable was going up. This was going to be a long day.

12 hours later, the flames were out. The battle had not been easy; twenty men had lost their lives and the refinery had been 90% destroyed. The refinery would take over three months to bring back up to speed; with it down Prestonian oil production would be cut by 20%. This did not bode well for Prestonia's fossil fuel based economy. With production down, prices would rise. With rising prices came a drop in consumer morale and a recession. All of which equated to lost jobs. One thing was certain: whatever had blown up the refinery had done a damn good job of it.

Presidential Mansion
Hudson
1200 Hours

Justin Gannon read the paper and sighed; his prediction of last week seemed to be coming true. The Hudson Herald headline read "TWIN STRIKES ROCK CONFIDENCE AS OIL PRICES RISE." In the smaller print, the paper devoted whole sections to the Black Dawn disaster as well as the Stanleyville strike. Reading the Black Dawn story, Pres. Gannon was jolted back to his past. In 1992, the Pacific Star Line cruise liner SS Pacific Diamond had struck a mine, resulting in the deaths of 500 people who could not get off the ship in the fifteen minutes it took to sink. Among them was his father, an officer with Pacific Star. He remembered his mother's look as she explained to the seven year old Justin that papa would not be coming home like he always did. This event had a profound effect on him throughout his life; he chose to blame the British, who placed the mine in WWII, for his father's death. By the time Aaron Preston had approached him about a revolution, he was more than willing. As his PR team entered, he collected himself and prepared to speak. Before he could however, his lead PR adviser addressed him. "Sir, you've got a press conference. Remember, don't mention war, express condolences and tell them we're working on it. We cannot let them know that Angelic Freedom is attacking us. Don't stonewall the questions, but tell them as soon as we can release information we will. Standard diplomatic bullshit. Oh and one last thing, CPIA's got evidence related to the Stanleyville incident. Farmer caught a car pulling up to a field, then leaving in a hurry around the same time as the plant exploded. Caught the plate number too. Also, witnesses report seeing a trail like a missile report. Somehow, I don't think this is AF. Anybody that can afford surface-to-surface missiles that can hit from 20 miles out must have state backing. We're running a check on all foreign aliens and foreign nationals. Best to be safe, I doubt a Prestonian would do this"

OFFICIAL MESSAGE OF THE ARMED REPUBLIC OF TOORI

_________________________________________________________________


The Armed Republic of Toori is most willing to supply munitions, supplies, and if need be: military force to aid Central Prestonia in protecting their crude natural resources. If the protection of these assets are unubtainable, the Toori has had the developement of far more efficient and readily availiable processed and unprocessed sources of energy.


-Consulate of The Armed Republic of Toori-

OOC: Reserved for my reply after Prestonia's. Must say though, Kroando, this is an interesting idea here.:cool: Time to get our covert warfare on!

Hurfdurfistan Department of State
The Federation of Hurfdurfistan is deeply saddened to hear of this brutal and unprovoked attack of Central Prestonia, and as such is offering the aid of its intelligence and special operations assets, should Central Prestonia choose to pursue a military resolution.

[This is the reply to your finished post.

@Wagdog. Why thank you. Finally something worthwhile from my morass of failed ideas.]

127km's North of Prestonian National Waters - International Shipping Lane

Aboard The T.S.S. Valkor

The Tenerife SSH slowly began diving, running on silent it moved in a straight line away from the flaming tanker... actually it had started moving the moment the torpedos were fired, so by the time the Prestonian chopper had taken off, the stealth submarine had been fleeing for a good fifteen minutes. (Time it took for torpedo's to traverse 20km's + time it took for distress call + time it takes for chopper to take off). Away and down. That always had seemed the safest course of action, and at a kilometer deep, the SONAR trying to pick up the Valkor was going to be having a difficult time... especially with the built in devices which were designed to make the vessel as damn close to invisible as was humanly possible. Covered in a layer of gaucho, a sound absorbant material, the sound waves, even those which cut this deep into the water, would see little... as a matter of fact, the various dolphins and sharks far above were likely to make more of a target than the submarine was.

Captain Bern could only smile as the last picture of the tanker came in from the satellite. A fireball in the ocean... a fire ball of oil, men and steel. Satellite imagery of the Wagdogian Fleet was provided, and Captain Bern made sure to direct the Valkor in a direction as clear of the Wagdogians as was possible. Deeper and deeper into the depths... it was time to find another target... The next destination was a shipping land far to the west...

In the International waters off Prestonian waters

The Greal 34th naval fleet had been escorting Greal container ships to Greal, the F-65 naval fighters had been watching the waters all day after a "submarine incident" last month. The fighters weren't going to be scared off today.

On the Flagship of the fleet, captain Pete had been listening to radio reports from Greal, he was due to retrun to Gruntian waters for combat in 3 days.
I like it out here, its quiet throught Captain Pete, Why do I have to go back to the Gruntian waters? His brother was a captain of a Tanker nearby. Captain Pete's destoryer, The Kimmer, was a Sasha Class destoryer, had the latest techonogly.

To: Government of Central Prestonian
From: Federal Coastal Patrol, Brydog

Dear Sir or Madam,

We wish to send a brown water warfare section to defend you oil assets. It will be made up of ten PBR boats and two Harken-class cutters.

Signed,
Federal Coastal Patrol

Kampfers Stadt, Kampfers
In the office of the Fuhrer

Fuhrer Richtoff stood tall as General Klischten and Admiral Christian entered. He was the leader, and they were the sword and sheild. Christian, Naval Admiral and Cheif of Staff, represented the sword, the ability of the nation to project force on an international scheme. Klischten headed up the army, and defended the nation from harm. Today, Prestonia beckoned for aid, and it was up to these two to breif Richoff so he could make an informed choice.

Christian was the first to speak. "Sir, Prestonia has recently lowered oil prices yet again. An unkown foe has began targeting their frieghters. Possibilities include Griffencrest Oil, Sharktooth Oil, hell, anyone in the Corporate Alliance. Suggested action is to deploy the 7th Fleet and its respective Flottenluftdienst to protect shipments. Any action against our fleets will be regarded as a declaration of war, and..."

"Against who?" Klischten cut in. "With all due respect, we can't commit forces until we know who we are fighting. This is not our fight anyways. The Prestonians got themselves in this mess, lets see them get out of it. I reccomend peacefully averting the struggle. Prestonia already has enough troops, and frankly, our forces are streched thin as it is. With the recent commitment to Mhoudia, and the current state of affairs in Vetaka, we can't afford to fight another war. If we do fight, however, I recommend on only sending a portion of the I ArmeeKorps, perhaps the 32 Infanterie and or the 18 Panzer-Grenadier, as I don't see this moving on to land. I'd also only send a few squadrons in from the Kampferian Luftwaffe, as the Flottenluftdienst should provide about all the air cover we need."

Richtoff pondered the options laid before him. He agreed with Klischten, and did not want to fight, but not sending anything to Prestonia could be interpereted as a lack of care for an ally, which could lead to problems down the road. Ah, well. They could get over it. "For the time, Prestonia has enough help. However, lets keep our eye on this, and should it continue to escalate, we will convene again. Until then, keep Kampfers prepared on all fronts. Sieg oder herrlicher Tod!"

"Für Kampfers!" Both men replied, saluting sharply.

To: Federal Coastal Patrol
From: Prestonian Naval Command

You are cleared to enter Prestonian waters. We need all the help we can get.

PBR-67

Petty Officer Third Class Roberts and his crew was patrolling the area around a oil rig. He was one of then Petty Officers commanding PBRs in this operation. There were two cutters which had ASW capablity. He had heard the reports of the attack and made sure everything was ready incase.

PC-476

The Wolf was the "flagship" of the force. It's was a Harken-class Patrol Cutter, a ship design for all seaborne theats. Commander Reinholf was the commander of the section, he learn his trait during the Yassia Civil War. He was planning and commanding all the vessels. He loved PBRs but disliked commanding a group because of their speed, they would be everywhere in their patrol area during open water patrols. He sat and waited for the next event.

CPIA Headquarters
Undisclosed building somewhere in Hudson
1200 Hours

Jack Marley walked up to the ordinary looking government building and placed his hand on the scanner. After a few seconds, the word "APPROVED" flashed on the screen and he entered. Inside this building lay the headquarters of the Central Prestonian Intelligence Agency, CPIA. This group oversaw all intelligence work, both internal and external. Stepping out of the elevator, Agent Marley was greeted by the Director himself, Yuri Andropov. Andropov was a classic CPIA strongman, having risen from field agent all the way to director. "How's that investigation coming Marley? I want results by the end of the week," he said. Agent Marley stammered a bit before answering "Y-Yes sir, we-we'll have them by Friday at the latest. We're analyzing the video of the car now. I'm afraid the Black Dawn is a cold case. Whatever did that one got away clean." Satisfied, the Director strode away. Marley entered the laboratory where the video and fragments of the missile were being analyzed. The missile had not been confirmed, but it was believed to be an MLRS style missile, one designed to kill tanks. The video, however, was another story. The camera installed by that paranoid farmer to watch his livestock had caught the license plate number of the suspicious vehicle. Through tracking, it had been confirmed as a rental, checked out to one Kampferian citizen, Jack Rodgers. The Kampferian Embassy would be informed and Rogers interrogated; the GPS system in the car had led CPIA to the Rising Sun Hotel, a resort in Hudson. The game was set. CPIA and Hudson Metro Police would raid the hotel as soon as Kampfers gave them the go-ahead. Finally, they were taking a step in the right direction.

To: Kampferian Embassy, 10025 Embassy Row, Hudson
From: Yuri I. Andropov, Director, Central Prestonian Intelligence Agency

We have reason to suspect that a Kampferian citizen, one Jack Rodgers, is connected to the recent attack on the Stanleyville refinery. While he is not a suspect at this time, he is wanted for questioning as a possible witness to the attack. His rental car was seen leaving the scene of the missile launch shortly after it occurred. This is to inform you that Mr. Rodgers will be taken into custody for questioning. Under Prestonian Law, he may be held for 10 days, and has the right to full legal counsel. Any questions or concerns may be directed to the Department of Justice, 2348 Revolution Avenue, Hudson.

SIC:

Hudson, Prestonia
Kampferian Embassy, 1330 Hours

Kampferian Ambassador to Prestonia Lloyd Walker returned to his office from his lunch break. He plopped down at his desk, and turned his moniter back on. Typing in his passcode, he watched as the new emails popped up on his screen. Spam, spam, and more spam. However, one email caught his eye. He read over the Prestonian message, and decided he needed to notify the Fuhrer, yet he lacked all the information he needed, so it was time to go to the network.

He clicked on the shortcut on his desktop, NETWORK.EXE

His screen flashed black, and then came up with a secure entry sign.

ENTER KAMPFERIAN NETWORK PASSWORD:

**-***-****-***-**

ENTER PERSONAL PASSWORD:

***-***-**

PLACE FINGERPRINT ON SCANNER FOR CONFIRMATION:

SCANNING

IDENTITY CONFIRMED.
KAMPFERIAN AMBASSADOR LLOYD WALKER.
LEVEL 2 ACESS GRANTED.

Lloyd sighed. He was now connected to the most secure network in Kampfers, even if he could only read specific files and edit none. However, that was all he needed. The name wasn't common in Kampfers, and should hae limited results. He began to type in the command prompt.

RETRIEVE <DNA_SUBSET:SEARCH:RODGERS,JACK>

SEARCHING

4 SUBJECTS FOUND. DISPLAY ALL (Y/N)?

Y

RETRIEVING DATA

1. NAME: Rodgers, Jack Kimball AGE: Deceased DOB: 7/8/1956 LCTN: N/A
2. NAME: Rodgers, Jack Jones AGE: 15 DOB: 3/24/20XX LCTN: Gantrickburhg; CONFIRMED
3. NAME: Rodgers, Jack Eric AGE: 3 DOB: 8/04/20XX LCTN: Kampfers Stadt; CONFIRMED
4. NAME: Rodgers, Jack Bill AGE: 24 DOB: 12/31/20XX LCTN: Silvervale; UNCONFIRMED

So it wasn't one of the first three. Well, better bring up the information on the last one, Walker thought. He once again began to enter text into the command prompt.

RETRIEVE <SUBJECT4>

RETRIEVING DATA

NAME: Rodgers, Jack Bill
AGE: 24
DOB: 12/31/20XX
LCTN: Silvervale; UNCONFIRMED
LAST KNOWN #: 912-663-8234
LAST RECORDS: 9/8/07 - 4 Car Crash, Critical Condition. Both legs amputated.

"Goddam!" Walker exclaimed out loud. That wasn't their man. Which meant that the "Jack Rodgers" the Prestonians were about to apprehend wasn't in the Kampferian DNA Database, which in turn meant that he was most definetely not a Kampferian. Every Kampferian, at birth, or when citizenship was granted, was required to give a DNA sample and be listed in the database. This man was not. He might have the papers, but he was not a Kampferian. He wrote out a response to the Prestonians.

TO: Yuri I. Andropov, Director, Central Prestonian Intelligence Agency
FROM: Llloyd Walker, Kampferian Ambassador, 10025 Embassy Row, Hudson
RE: <No Subject>

That's not one of ours, and yes, I am sure of it. Arrest that fucker. Even if he wasn't behind the bombings, he sure as hell is doing something illegal. Move in fast before he catches wind.

Sincerely,
Lloyd Walker
Kampferian Ambassador to Prestonia
10025 Embassy Row, Hudson, Prestonia

CPIA Headquarters
Hudson
1215 Hours

Director Andropov nearly spat out his coffee when he read the ambassador's email. Now they had a reason to arrest this man calling himself Jack Rodgers; forgery of international documents was a felony in Prestonia. "All right, now all I need is a warrant. If we move fast we should have the fucker by day's end," he said to himself. Quoting and adding evidence to the Ambassador's email, he forwarded it to the federal judge assigned to the district. Within five minutes, a warrant for the arrest of Jack Rodgers, signed by the judge, was faxed to the CPIA HQ. Andropov quickly summoned a team of agents. With the team assembled in his office, he briefed them. "All right guys, we have somebody who's possibly a spy and certainly a felon. Intelligence shows that he's located in the Rising Sun Resort, room 312. I want him apprehended quickly and with a minimum of fuss. Hudson Metro Police have already been notified. They'll help seal of the hotel. Damnit, we've got him right under our nose, I do not want him getting away. This is our only lead in the oil attacks and we have to take it. Move out, and be quick about it. One last thing, we need him alive. Nonlethal only unless it's a matter of life and death, understood?"

Rising Sun Resort
Hudson
1220 Hours

Sirens pierced the city as police cars and SWAT team rushed toward the resort. Overhead, a helicopter hovered over the helipad, making sure nobody got out that way. The hotel was sealed off at all points; Rodgers was trapped. A CPIA special operations team rushed up to the room and assembled on either side of the door. One would break down the door, one would throw a flashbang, and the others would arrest. It would all be over in less than five minutes. "Jack Rodgers, you're under arrest! Come out peacefully!," the squad leader shouted. With all the commotion, he had to have realized what was going on. After a minute, the squad prepared to knock down the door.

[So I assume the missile hit? I'll tell ya what, you let me excape and make another attack, and I'll let you take him alive next time, rather than have him kill himself during the arrest.]

Rising Sun Hotel, Hudson - Room 312

Riklor opened the latest drop off. A suitcase. A suitcase filled with C4 High Explosive, detonators, and bomb making devices. Erdan could only smile. This meant one thing. He would actually be able to touch and feel what it was he was going to destroy. Unlike before when he was forced to fire a missile from 18 miles away and flee, not seeing the destruction untill he got back to his apartment, catching it on the news. No... not this time. This time he would be up close and personal. As he read over his instructions, it seemed his next job would involve him actually boarding a tanker. The man smiled as he looked over his equipment, and slowly walked out onto the balcony of the room. Lighting a cigerrette he took a long drag, and slowly exhaled.

However the Agents moment of relaxation was not to last. A sound he had long despised broke his moment of calm. Sirens. Police. Authorities. The enemy. Now the chances that they were coming for him were next to none, in all likelihood they were after some thug or drug dealer down the road. They were rounding up prostitutes. They were responding to a burglary. What they were not doing was coming after him. It was immpossible. Right? Riklor assured himself of this untill he saw the first police car screech to a halt outside. "Shit."

The KARO Agent rushed back into the room, grabbing his 9mm Pistol from the bed, the suitcase from the table and his folder filled with documents and cash. As he moved for the door, he threw a can of coke onto the ground and moved next door. "Senorita! Excuse me! Miss!", the polite Kampferian called out to the maid two doors down. "I am sorry mam, but I seemed to have spilled a drink...", Rodgers pulled out two fifties and handed them to the maid. "Do you think you could help me?", he continued. The maid then smiled, took the cash and walked down the hall, into his room, closing the door behind her. Riklor slipped into the vacant room she was previously in and rushed to the kitchen, picking up a can of cleaning spray the maid had left. Quickly withdrawing a lighter, he held it up the can, flicked up a flame, and created a makeshift torch. Setting the bed aflame, he tossed a flaming pillow here, another there... setting the room into a proper inferno.

Boots. SWAT most definitely. Storming up the stairs. From the sounds of things they were on the first floor. That gave him under a minute. And what else? A chopper. Perfect. He rushed out of the room and pulled the first fire alarm he saw, setting off sirens and alarms all over the building. He turned a corner and then another, leaving the third floor just as the the SWAT Team flashbanged the innocent maid. Swarms of people flooded out of the massive hotel, rushing for the streets. Would no one be allowed out? Would the Prestonian Police Department really be held responsible for trapping hundreds of civilians inside a burning building? Probably not... Riklor just slipped in with the next family, rushing down the stairs...

International Waters - Several Days After Sinking of Tanker

The T.S.S Valkor cut through the blue Pacific in a slow and easy manner. The ship was in no rush, for after all, it was racing an oil tanker. The last attack occured in a major shipping lane North of the Island, the next would occur far to the west, 470 miles west to be exact in another shipping lane far removed from the last. The next attack was on a vessel which had left port only a few days ago, heading for some remote location across the ocean. However the Valkor was now in her way.

Satellites in the air tracked the tankers movement, and relayed it's position to the submarine. However this time Bern and his crew would not be torpedoing the enemy. There were too many military vessels in the area according to satellite intell., the risk of their response after the attack was too great. But did that mean no attack would commence? Of course not. It just meant a new method would have to be employed. That method would be that of naval mines. The Valkor, never surfacing moved directly into the shipping lane, only several hours before the tanker would arrive, and ejected seven 'Rocket Mines'. Rocket Mines sat some distance below the surface, and when they detected a ship overhead, fired a homing high-speed rocket upwards at the bottom of the enemy ship, where it would then break through the bottom armor (usually weak), and into the ship, then exploding, causing massive damage. The best part of these mines was that it did not require the enemy vessel to actually hit the mine, but merely come within it's detection range of several hundred yards. As the mines were spread out, it was unlikely that a ship the size of an oil tanker would avoid all seven.

After the mines were laid, the Valkor left the area with great speed, upwards of 30 knots, making sure to remain quiet enough to avoid the patrol vessels, but moving quickly enough so that when the tanker came around in a few hours, the sub would already be long gone...

Rising Sun Hotel
First Floor, Hudson
1225 Hours

The squad leader had just started rushing up toward the second floor via the stairs when the fire alarm when off. "Fucking-A! Get everyone out! Move, move, move!," he shouted as SWAT team spread out to all rooms, making sure people were leaving. In one instant, their apprehension mission had become an evacuation mission. When all guests were out, the fire trucks arrived. There, it became apparent who was behind this. The fire crews reported that the fire was started in room 312. Jack Rodgers had attempted to burn down the hotel in an effort to cover his tracks. By night's end a wanted poster had been produced and hung all over the nation. It read:
WANTED
Alias: Jack Rodgers
Real Name: Unknown
White Male, about 6'3'' 175lbs.
Wanted for forgery of international documents and arson.
Prime suspect in Stanleyville Refinery explosion.P$ 1,000,000 REWARD

CPS Upshaw
La Fayette Class Frigate
0200 Hours

Commander Larson guided his ship through the black water. It was cloudy, and he was apprehensive. The conditions were perfect for an attack. He and a task force of destroyers and cruisers were escorting a convoy of Republic Oil tankers headed to Vetaka. It made no sense to Larson why all the oil was being attacked. After all, they only exported to allies of the Republic, and occasionally the Questarian Commonwealth. Surely that couldn't destabilize the world market. Nevertheless though, it was his job to flank the tankers and protect against any submarine attacks. For this, he had set SONAR to ping every two minutes, revealing anything that may lurk below. Without warning, two tankers exploded in a ball of flaming fury, sliced clean in half by some unknown force. Before anything could be done, the vessels disappeared beneath the waves. All ships that could sent out helicopters, but to little avail; only 25 people were rescued. The convoy steamed on, altering it's course as the navy vessels attempted to get a fix on the offender. As usual, the search produced no fruit. It was becoming quite obvious that their enemy was more than capable of striking from the shadows and running away.

OOC: Will edit more in soon, but for now I wanted to get this in...

Approaching Position of CPS Upshaw
Captain Viliers Carrington of the cruiser UWS The Soviet Economy in Danger took position at what, thanks to datalinks from the CPIA, had been indicated as the likely position the first attack had been launched from. "Damn buggers, Corporate Alliance asses taking issue with a nation selling its natural production rate at $40 per barrel while some others are going for far less and not being harrassed like this." His ire reflected most Wagdians' opinion of the CA; that is, utterly unfavorable.

Still, nothing much for it by now; only to get in position and wait for suspicious sonar contacts or whatever else. "Get our Sea Lord in the air and dipping, plus those of our assigned destroyer besides. Is the People's Daily off of where the last attacks have been?" Part of the method to be used was leaving subs in the lanes where the last attacks had been; out of range of probable mines, but still capable of 'revenge firing' against any subs making future attacks if nothing else more proactive." On hearing his Executive Officer's confirmation, Captain Carrington returned to the CIC main display board and began to ponder the situation still further while all else, the patrolling subs and helicopters of the Wagdian 12th Fleet, set themselves into motion.

From five massive Tri Svyatitelya class supercarriers, some four-hundred and fifty Sea Lord combined ASW/AWACS choppers would begin taking off in turns to swamp the shipping lanes off Prestonia with a stading rotary-wing ASW presence; easily two-hundred in the air at any given time accounting for maintenance and crew issues, with the ability to surge to twice that if required by some unholy spike in enemy sub activity. Supporting these, fully five-hundred total FA-16A Priest VTOL fighters would fly rotating BARCAPs close to the ASW patrol zones at around two-hundred airframes' continuous strength, and twenty-five hundred FA-15E Cardinal heavy fighters would maintain a cool thousand of their number farther out in case the enemy assault started resorting to unmarked bombers or whatnot.

The above defensive measures were just the carrirers alone; against surface raiders, fully five Peter the Great heavy battleships extensively modified for Wagdian service stood ready to deter or destroy surface raiders. And beneath the waves, twenty-five Vladimir class SSNs as previously mentioned in one boat's case by Captain Carrington lay silently at an angle from the shipping lanes within max range of Vodopad ASW missiles and 650mm long-range torpedo fire. Combine this with the twenty-five Danechka II destoyers accompanying the twenty-five Yekaterina cruisers, of whom UWS The Soviet Economy in Danger was one, in two-ship offensive/defensive ASW cruiser/destroyer teams, and the scope of 12th Fleet's commerce-protection effort in Prestonia would become clear. More might be usable, such as the extra destroyers assigned as escort to all of 12th Fleet's surface vessels or even the three other Wagdian fleets present, but that would take time; and rumor had it that with Zanski erupting into war again they'd be needed elsewhere soon. Hence, for the foreseeable moment. 12th Fleet was the force tasked with bringing the hammer down on this maritime terrorism the Corporate Alliance seemed engaged in; and bring it down HARD, without mercy.

To that effect, the subs continued to listen, as did the ships; and the helos continued to dip their sonars and drop sonobuoys as the first of five-hundred Tu-142M4 Bear-F began to arrive, to assume ASW patrols out where the Cardinals were flying as soon as they were refuelled and rearmed as well as the crews rested. The unknown enemy would just have to see how they could handle the full panoply of modern sea-control assets, assuming they seriously desired to contest Prestonian maritime security within their own waters as seemed the case right now.

CPIA Headquarters
Hudson
1400 Hours

President Gannon entered the building and went directly to the Director's office. He did not knock, but came right in. "Yuri, I want to know what in the hell happened in the hotel and I want to know now. Do you understand me?," he roared. Gannon was not a happy man at the moment. His approval rating was down, 524 people had been killed within the month and there only lead had attempted to burn down a resort. The costs reached into the billions. Oil prices had gone up to $65/bbl as the oil industy demanded more benefits and protection. There was even talk of a strike until the safety of the oil industry could be guarenteed. All this weighed heavily on Gannon's mind as he awaited an answer. "Mr. President, we're doing everything we can. We couldn't risk a fire in the building killing innocent people. We had to evacuate. We have one thing though; Rodgers doesn't seem to have realized how we found him. He's still using the car. We've tracked him to St. Andrews. We currently believe he either wants the ironworks or to get aboard a tanker. Needless to say, he'll be hard pressed to do either. CPIA is moving out now. We'll set up shop and see what he does."

St. Andrews - Small Motel

Riklor closed the door and entered the room, gun drawn and ready to fight for his life. After briefly searching the room, it turned up empty, and he walked into the bathroom. On the window was written a message, of course in thick code. Written in what seemed to be lipstick, the message, once translated read.

"You are being tracked. Do not continue using the car. Go ahead with your mission, and once it is completed, go ahead with Option C. That is all."

Erdan breathed deeply, he knew what had to be done. He set the 9mm pistol on the bathroom counter and looked down. He knew this had always been an option, and deep inside he knew it was what KARO, Kroando and the entire world wanted him to do... whether they knew of him or not. His next action would take this to an entirely different level... one which would escalate the situation from, 'Conflict', to 'War'. He took some tissue paper and wiped the mirror clean, and promptly walked into the main room, picked up the phone and dialed a cab. He asked to be taken to the nearest beach, and so he was... and so the story of his existance continued.

After losing whatever tail was on him in the crowds at the Prestonian beach, he was able to pick up the supplies he needed for the next part of the mission. A scuba suite, and a bottle of advil. The advil was for the head ache, the scuba suite for the swim he would take that night. At approximatly 2:30 in the morning, Erdan Riklor walked into the water, and began swimming down the shore. He was not in any random patch of beach... he was less than three miles from the nearest major oil tanker dock. And he was not leaving at any random time... he was going the day before the tanker was to take off. Why now? Why not days before or after? Because right now, the tanker was filled with oil.

Riklor swam for what seemed hours, pulling with him the floatable, water proof pack filled with five C4 Explosives. On and on he swam, untill finally he came to the docked tanker. The massive behemoth of a ship, he stopped some 500 yards away, using his IR goggles to watch for guards. Of course they were there, but under the cover of darkness, it was unlikely they would see him. To top it off, it was unlikely they would see him if he was under water. Under he went, and forward he swam, deflating the pack of C4, carrying it with him untill he came up right under the ship. And then one bomb at a time was manually strapped onto the side of the ship, right along the water line... ten minutes later he was swimming away... the bombs would go off any minute now...

[Feel free to RP the coast guard picking him up. He will resist lightly, no guns, just enough to make it look like he's not trying to get caught.]

PT-125
Coast Guard Cutter
Patrolling St. Andrews Harbor
0245 Hours
Ensign Rick Andrews turned the spotlight on and idled the engine. It was his job to protect the harbor, and he was scanning for and possible saboteurs. The CPIA had tipped off the coast guard that one or more terrorists might be in St. Andrews attempting to hit a tanker. As a result, patrols in the normally quiet section of the massive, multipurpose harbor housing the oil tankers had been increased. So far, however, the search had been fruitless; all they had seen were pods of harbor seals. Disappointed, Rick was watching the clock inside the wheelhouse, wishing it would move faster. he had another hour on his shift, and a thunderstorm was fast approaching. He did not want to be on the water when it came, that was certain. Then, Andrews got the break he was hoping for. His gunner had spotted a wake in the water, one too small to be a seal. Scanning, he found what he was looking for; a man in full scuba gear was now swimming rapidly away from the light. "Rick, we've got something here," the gunner shouted. "Are you sure this time Fyodor, the last three times you said that, you found seals," came the somewhat irritated reply of the ensign. He had gotten five hours of sleep total, and was running on pure adrenaline. "No, I'm serious, see for yourself," came the reply. Rick rushed toward the spotlight and peered out. Sure enough, there was a man swimming at a rapid pace away from the boat. Running back to the wheelhouse and engaging the throttle, he quickly caught up. "Attention unidentified diver, you are under arrest! Please halt immediately. Failure to comply may result in personal injury," Rick said over the intercom. His heart pounded in his chest; after months of empty leads the Prestonians were finally getting somewhere. Rick cut the engine and took his E19 out of the case behind him. Stepping out to the deck, he drew it on the man and pointed. "If you value your life, put your hands in the air and stay where you are," he said.

[Did this happen before or after I planted the bombs? If before, the guy would have dove long before he got anywhere close to patrols, out of sight. So I'm going to RP him killing himself. If the bombs have been planted and are going to blow, then he would be hauling ass away from the tanker, and you might very well pick him up, and you get him alive. Tell me which and I'll give you the IC response.]

OOC: The bombs have been planted. How long is left before they blow?

[A minute or so later... about the same time you would pick him up I suppose.]

The Dark Waters of St. Andrews Harbor

Riklor looked into the bright light, shielding his eyes with his hand's. "Alright... I give up..."

PT-125
0250 Hours
The two men hauled the other man aboard and looked him over. Fyodor spoke first. "Hey Rick, I think we got Jack Rodgers here. He certainly looks like the description here," he said with a touch of excitement. No sooner than he had said that, an explosion rocked the harbor. A tanker was in flames, the fourth one in a month. "You BASTARD!!!," Rick roared at the top of his lungs. "Look at it! Look at what your terrorism has done!" Getting on the radio, he sent a message out to the harbor master. "We have Jack Rogers in custody. Believe he's the cause of what you're seeing over there. Freeze the harbor and check every last ship. Nobody leaves until we say so. Understood?" "Yes, of course," came the reply. As the ship sped to the shore, the news reverberated all over the area. Jack Rodgers had been caught. The enemy now had a face.

St. Andrews Police Department
0900 Hours
Camera flashbulbs went off incessantly and reporters shouted questions as Jack Rodgers was led to the SWAT van waiting in the parking lot. From there he would be taken to Hudson and eventually CPIA Headquarters where he would be interrogated. The CPIA would get info out of him at all costs. That was their area of expertise.

CPIA Headquarters
Undisclosed Building
Hudson
1400 Hours

Rogers was seated in a chair in the bland room deep underground. Directly across from him was an interrogator. After eyeballing his mark for several minutes, he realized that he would not crack so easily and began to speak. "You know, you're pretty good, for a terrorist. But, you made a few mistakes. The first was registering a passport in a nation with a DNA bank. The second was not realizing after the raid that the car had led us to you. Other than that, you did remarkably well. Now, let me break down the charges you're facing. First, there's forgery of an international document. Then, we have two counts of terrorism. All in all, you're looking at a minimum of life in prison if we try you. Personally, I don't think the jury will be that kind. But, you do have an out here. We know you're working for someone. Why don't you tell us who? Next, try giving us your real name. The only Jack Rodgers' in Kampfers are 3, 15, and 24. The 24 year old had both legs amputated as a result of a 4 car crash. Therefore, we know you're lying. Remember our motto: Verum quod Licentia. Truth brings Freedom. Tell the truth, and you may win some freedom."

Interrogation Room

Riklor sat still looking at the man across the table, no expression upon his face, no blinking in his eyes, no sign of emotion, nor of anticipation, nor even aprehension. All that went through his mind were the countless hours of torture he had been put through during his KARO training. One particular test had qualified Erdan Riklor for KARO service...

It began as a standard recon operation. Riklor, still in training was told that he had been inducted into KARO, and was a full operative... this of course being a lie, as he was still very much 'in the program'. His first mission would be to survey a Communist Training Camp in Southern Pangia. He was told that all he need do was take pictures and leave, that his extract team would pick him up in two days time. However while in the South... he was caught. Caught by what he believed were Communist Soldiers. And so he then endured seven months of constant torture, interrogation and pain. For months he was disected (literally and figuratively), he was beaten, he was electroshocked, he was given offer after offer, he was told his country had abandoned him, he was taken to the brink of death. And at the end of the seventh month, the Director walked into his cell, shook his hand and said, "Welcome to KARO."

Coming back into reality Riklor responded, "I want full immunity and a ticket out of Central Prestonia. And for that I will give you all you want."

"You don't get shit until I hear what I want to know. Tell me something useful and I'll see what I can do. I'm confused as to why you want to go back though. I was under the impression that most organizations had no use for an outed spy. I've got a better deal. You tell me what I want and I'll give you a clean slate in Prestonia. You get a new name, full immunity, and a whole new background. We'll set you up with a nice job, and bring your family here if you have one. Trust me, if there's one thing CPIA is good at, it's making people disappear. I guarantee you that if you take this offer, nobody and I mean nobody will be able to touch you. So, what do you say? Trust me, this is the best deal you'll ever find. I don't do this for just anybody, but you seem like a worthy adversary, so I'll extend the offer to you. Hell, I'll produce it in writing if you want."

Interrogation Room

Riklor chuckled. Did the man really think he was that stupid. "Lets say for a second that you did set me up here in Prestonia... lets pretend that the government wouldn't chop off my head for what I've done thus far.", the KARO Agent paused for several minutes, seemingly without purpose. "Those cameras at the police station. They have my face. You give me a new identity here... you think that they won't remember the face of the man that brought such terror to their nation? I'll be lynched in a week.", Riklor took another long pause. "I said I wanted out of Central Prestonia. I never said I wanted to go back from where I came from... besides... I tell you what you want to know now... you kill me in two minutes. You give me the immunity, and I'll sing like a bird. If what I tell you isn't everything you want, take it away."

"We do have cosmetic surgeons here you know. We could rebuild your face, make you look like a whole different man. But for the sake of us actually getting somewhere, I'll give you immunity. You tell us what we want and you'll be free and clear."

Interrogation Room

After quite some time of looking over the document, verifying it's authenticity [assuming you've given it to me], Riklor looked up. "The Griffencrest Corporation... next question."

INCOMMING TRANSMISSION

*comm. static* Central Prestonia, Gamma 5-1 with you 200 kilometers at 1-3-0 at angels 15, bearing 352, requesting permission to enter Prestonian airspace. *static*



*Radar incoming:


20- Toori LRIVF-261 ‘Flamberge’s (http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee281/swampthinggreenprotoss/Tooriflamberge4.jpg )
5- Toori Gunships (http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee281/swampthinggreenprotoss/TooriGunshipspecs.jpg )

"Next question: What's your real name? Don't pull that Jack Rodgers shit with me, I've already explained why that's bullshit. I want the truth. Trust me, we in CPIA have ways of finding out if you're lying. See this?," the interrogator gestured towards a closed beaker of clear liquid. "It's pure ethanol. Truth serum, as luck would have it. Not only truth serum, one of the most powerful ones known to man. One gram will give me everything I need to know, ten will have you spilling your deepest, darkest secrets. Oh, and did I mention what happens when you hit 100 grams? You die. No explaining it, it just happens. Now, I don't want to resort to using this stuff on you, but make no mistake: if your info doesn't check out, it's truth time for you, buddy. Now, knowing your options, I'll repeat my first two questions. Who are you and who do you work for?"

INCOMMING TRANSMISSION

*comm. static* Central Prestonia, Gamma 5-1 with you 200 kilometers at 1-3-0 at angels 15, bearing 352, requesting permission to enter Prestonian airspace. *static*



*Radar incoming:


20- Toori LRIVF-261 ‘Flamberge’s (http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee281/swampthinggreenprotoss/Tooriflamberge4.jpg )
5- Toori Gunships (http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee281/swampthinggreenprotoss/TooriGunshipspecs.jpg )
OOC: I appreciate it Toori, but for now this appears to be closed between me and Kro. I'll TG you if I need your help later on.

OOC: Ok man, no prob, but if you want, I can stick around in international waters and refuel any CP or Greal aircraft, or any other allies. A few of the Gunships are jerry-rigged for mid-air pit stops.

Interrogation Room

"My name is is Rudolph Cervant, I am a mercenary working under the control of the Griffencrest Corporation.", Riklor repeated, everything about him indicating that the truth was being told. Riklor was one of the most unusual products that Kroando had to offer, an unusual combination of training, chemical engineering, and clinical insanity held that the thoughts and words coming from his mouth may or may not ever be taken as truth. His lies triggered the same emotions and reactions as did his honest confessions. He himself was never sure what it was, as his brain worked in a way far different than that of the average person. When he was introduced to 'truth drugs', as he had been during his testing at KARO, it was shown that Riklor was able reveal truth... about trivial matters, and facts of his childhood, while remaining capable of sticking with the story engrained in his head. As there was no actual 'truth syrum', but only drugs to lessen resistance, a stronger drug would simply make Riklor's answers more intoxicated and fanciful... not anymore honest. "I am not sure what you mean by, 'check out'. I guarantee you that my employers will deny my existance... and they have probably already erased any record of my life by now."

OOC: That works. Better than having my air patrols having to run back to the coast or the carriers.
IC:
TO: TOORI AIRCRAFT DETAHCMENT
FROM: CARRIER RPS FEDERATION
PLEASE HOLD IN AIRSPACE XXX-XXXX-XX
REQUEST YOU PROVIDE FUELING STATION FOR PRESTONIAN AIRCRAFT
REPORT ANYTHING UNUSUAL AS WELL
GLAD TO HAVE YOU ON BOARD

TO: TOORI AIRCRAFT DETAHCMENT
FROM: CARRIER RPS FEDERATION
PLEASE HOLD IN AIRSPACE XXX-XXXX-XX
REQUEST YOU PROVIDE FUELING STATION FOR PRESTONIAN AIRCRAFT
REPORT ANYTHING UNUSUAL AS WELL
GLAD TO HAVE YOU ON BOARD



INCOMMING COMMUNICATION:


Holding short in designated airspace, providing fueling releaf, establishing patrol pattern, Gamma 5-1.


OOC: Easy as pancakes. That goes for you too Greal. BTW, anyone thinks of attacking me, Ill kick yir ass.

Interrogation Room

"My name is is Rudolph Cervant, I am a mercenary working under the control of the Griffencrest Corporation.", Riklor repeated, everything about him indicating that the truth was being told. Riklor was one of the most unusual products that Kroando had to offer, an unusual combination of training, chemical engineering, and clinical insanity held that the thoughts and words coming from his mouth may or may not ever be taken as truth. His lies triggered the same emotions and reactions as did his honest confessions. He himself was never sure what it was, as his brain worked in a way far different than that of the average person. When he was introduced to 'truth drugs', as he had been during his testing at KARO, it was shown that Riklor was able reveal truth... about trivial matters, and facts of his childhood, while remaining capable of sticking with the story engrained in his head. As there was no actual 'truth syrum', but only drugs to lessen resistance, a stronger drug would simply make Riklor's answers more intoxicated and fanciful... not anymore honest. "I am not sure what you mean by, 'check out'. I guarantee you that my employers will deny my existance... and they have probably already erased any record of my life by now."
The interrogator sat back down and pondered what he had just heard. The man appeared to be telling the truth, everything in the world pointed straight to it. His instincts, though, told him that he was not getting pure truth. For the time being, though, he would ignore these. There was still the matter of the other attacks to deal with. Turning back to his mark, he pressed on. "Ok, so your working for Griffencrest. That does not, however, tell me where you are from. If I had to guess, I'd say you had some Kroandon in you. You look a bit like it. However, where you are from is not of prime concern to me now. Right now I wish to discuss the attacks we know you were connected to. First, your rocket attack on Stanleyville Refinery. Why Stanleyville, when not 30 miles inland we had another, bigger one. Surely that would have been a much more, shall we say, enticing target. You had a chance to take out 45% of our oil production, yet you chose 15% instead. Why was this? Ignorance? Desire to play it safe? Or a combination of elements as yet undiscovered? Secondly, the tanker you blew up. How did you slip our guard? We had three different rings of protection you would have needed to cross. And how did you know the tanker was full of oil? You would have had to either followed her in to port from the refinery or obtained the shipping roster, which is currently under Level 5 security. Please, do tell me how you managed to pull this off. If I weren't bothered by the 5% inflation you've caused, I'd say this is the stuff spy movies are made of.

"I grew up an orphan... I never knew my mother, nor my father... so I cannot honestly give you my ethnic make up.", Riklor responded to the accusation of being a Kroandon. This, as well as other small points, were true. Riklor was an orphan, he never knew his parents, and he had no idea of his genetic make up, though in all likelyhood, he was of Kroandon origin.

"Stanleyville was my assignment. My brief gave me orders to attack Stanleyville, not another one further in.", Riklor paused, adjusting himself a moment later. "I am not trying to win a war here... I'm trying to get paid... they paid me to hit Stanleyville. Who knows... maybe they've sent another guy for the one inland."

"As to the harbor guard... apperantly there is no one watching under the water. You have my scuba suite... I swam in... under water for a mile or so, coming up in between the protection rings to save air. Everytime I'd see a boat in the distance, I went back under to avoid detection. Simple stuff really. Why do you ask? Want me to train your Special ForceS?", Riklor chuckled before continuing with his answers. "As to how I knew it was full... I didn't. My dossier told me to hit that tanker on that date. For all I knew it was empty." In reality KARO found out that the tanker was full by watching it via satellite for several days. They took the average length of time it took to fill a tanker, and determined a date...