NationStates Jolt Archive

Liberty-City, Julia Tower, Kevin Nivensky’s office

“Are you sure you want to do this, Alex?” – Kevin raised his eyebrows in shock – “I’m not sure I even have orbital shipyard capacity to build so much stuff, and… Jesus, you could get yourself killed!”

“Not killed. Disembodied. I’ll be back.” – the dark-armored figure seemed completely unemotional, but Kevin Nivensky knew it was merely because he could not see the former Field Marshal’s face beyond that black faceplate, or hear his voice – only a modified, lifeless augmentation. And he knew – he heard of it once – that being “disemobied” would be worse then death for Kazansky. But he dared not argue.

And Kazansky continued. “Very well. I also have no use of your shipyards. I need merely your droid production facilities. All of them.”

“What? My droid…”

“Yes. Can you produce five million droids by the end of this year?”

“Yes… but…”

“Do that. I will pay you thirty billion dollars. Remove the standard sapience – I need no slaves. Produce clones not of the droids used by the Army, but of standard Trade Federation Battle Droids. That is all.”

“But Alex.”

“I have said my word.” - Kazansky dropped a single Menelmacari credchip on the table, got up, and walked out.

As the elevator sped down from Julia Tower, Kazansky pondered his situation. There was a point where Kevinhad created a multinational scam – the Ringworld Scam. He collected over 16,000 trillion dollars for the construction of a ringworld – one that they actually had the clients build. The money could not be sunk into Allanea’s economy. It’d create a massive inflation and ruin the nation completely.

For some strange reason, Kevin decided he, Kazansky, had deserved a share proportional in his share in Allanean Arms Corporation, the vehicle of this scam. It came out to – nevermind, it came out to a lot of money, and Kazansky could not spend it all in Allanea.

He flipped out his cellphone – which, technically, was not ‘cellular’ at all – and started speaking. “Hello. United Federal Shipyards? Yes. I want one hundred Lucrehulk-class ships, no this is not a mistake. I’m Alexander Kazansky. THE Alexander Kazansky, yes. Ten trillion dollars will be transferred to you as needed. Thank you for your time.”

He then flicked the cellpone closed, and then open again “Yes, Auser-Kern Arms? It’s Alexander Kazansky speaking. I want you to be making Hailfire droid tanks. Make a million of them. You will be paid quite adequately. One trillion dollars shall suffice you.”

And now, one final call to Subaru Worldsystem, with ten thousand droid tri-fighters ordered for a trillion dollars – and Kazansky paced out to the street. He was done with the Novanians for today.

But they were not the only ones to be called.

“Hello, Vector Industries. I have a deal to offer. An awesome deal. Can you guys make, say, twenty Star Destroyers for me? I’ll pay you, I dunno, two trillion dollars.”

Vector Industries. Coredia's largest military-industrial contractor and the number one go-to company for everything from Coredian Star Destroyers to personal shields. It's been a while since a foreign entity ordered something from them, but even so, business was business.

"Hello. This is Vector Industries Representative Emtrey 120." A droid answer the comms. "How can we help you?"

“Hello, Vector Industries. I have a deal to offer. An awesome deal. Can you guys make, say, twenty Star Destroyers for me? I’ll pay you, I dunno, two trillion dollars.”

"Ah. In that case, what model of Star Destroyer do you want? We have Mark I, II, III, V, Elite, Super, Victory and Venator models. Keep in mind that it will be twenty months before your order is complete."

Aboard the USS Miriel nos Feanor

Alexander Kazansky rested his long, slender palms on the keyboard and began typing. Of course, he could have dictated this to the computer, or simply used his direct brain interfact – but there was something comforting about the sound his fingers made when they contacted the keyboard. The former Emperor of Greater Prussia could make seventy or eighty words per minute with casual ease, and he saw no discomfort in typing. He was literally making the words appear on screen as soon as he thought them. He has jus written a letter to Vector Industries, making sure his Imperator Star Destroyers are to be painted deep red. And now, to contact his own industrial company, to make sure they would keep up work on their own batch.

This entire thing was turning out quite well, he thought.

"Twenty Imperators and make 'em red!" Screamed the droid, shooting the order up the line.

The assembly lines got to work and found out that it would be not twenty, but fifteen months for Allanea's order, considering how easy it is to make Imperator models nowadays...

OOC: Bits of that post have been done via cooperation with New Dornalia.

And Alexander Kazansky kept working. The scam money was burning a hole of sorts in his proverbial pocket, and now he was talking to a New Dornalian company – he didn’t want to kill off anybody’s economy by money-dumping. As such, it was Jensen Design he was talking about. “Hello. Jensen Design, New Dornalia? Alex Kazansky speaking. I want a hundred Star Destroyers. No, don’t hang up, I’m not messing with your head. A hundred Star Destroyers. I’ll pay you ten trillion dollars. No, I’m not crazy. Paint them deep-red, and deliver them to Alcarinqua’s orbit.”

The Call reached Jensen Design's very posh headquarters in Long Beach, California. A receptionist within the Orders and Procurements Department picked up the phone, only to be greeted by Alex Kazansky himself. After the man explained what he wanted, the receptionist, speaking in a squeaky voice, said, "Hold on, let me call the manager."

The receptionist then flagged the management, and informed them of the Kazansky order. In reply, the manager picked up the phone and said, "Mr. Kazansky? Hello, this is Fred Smedley, Head of Orders and Procurements. Yes, we can make those destroyers for you. They'll be based on Dornalian Zaitsev models, and technically export versions, but we'll ship them to you right away."

With that, the manager hung up, and called Production out near Mars, saying, "Hey Joe, this is Fred Smedley from Procurements. I got an order for you to fill out....."

In the meanwhile, Kazansky was making another phonecall, this time to the Greater Prussian Kriegscorporation, the one group that built the Imperial Navy, providing ships and weapons all over the empire. He still had connections there – and he was going to make one hell of a big order.

“I want two hundred Acclamator II-series vessels. I think that’s going to cost around thirteen trillion bucks. Not that I give a shit. I also want two hundred Enforcer-class cruisers. That’s eleven trillion more. Finally, I require four Sovereign class Star Destroyers. Paint it all red. That is all. The total payment should be twenty-six, point four trillion. You will be paid six hundred billion dollars more if you can do it fast. Don’t screw up.”

Kazanskt got up. “Ermeo.”

A protocol droid rolled in. “Call upon my apprentices. I have... assignments for them.”

“Very well, Watanabe.” – Kazansky nodded, inspecting the black-dressed boy in front of him. – “I see you have completed the first stages of your training. Now, I want you to take my shuttle and personally inspect the droid army on Roanoke-Island.”

“Yes, Master.” – the apprentice nodded serenely. – “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“Quite so. After you’re done, I want you to take one of the ships in orbit - I believe the Glorious Beauty is already prepared – and take it to Jurai. I make it your personal responsibility to ensure the timely construction of that portion of the fleet. Are there any questions?”

“But… Master Kazansky…”

“Yes, young padawan?” – it was clear Kazansky was enjoying his role as mentor.

“Are you sure I am… ready?”

“Yes, young Watanabe. You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. Prepare for the journey.”

* * *

Elsewhere, more and more battleships were rolling out of production facilities around Greater Prussia and in Allanea itself. Repainted in orbit by Kazansky Heavy Industries personnel, they bore the Royal Seal upon their armor. Slowly, slowly, the fleet grew.

“Stossel.”

“Yes, Master?”

“I wish for you to travel to New Constantinople, in Ille Sorne. You have a budget of twenty trillion dollars.”

“Jesus…”

“No need to flatter me. I require a hundred droid command ships, and, say, two hundred Tartan-class patrol cruisers. Make sure they are painted in Her Majesty’s Colors. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Do not disappoint me, apprentice.”

OOC: Hope you don't mind me jumping in here
IC: Down a long, battleship gray hallway was a door. Made of fine wood with a brass handle, this door had been many places, all across the galaxy. Behind it sat a kitsune who had been as many places as his door had been. His name was Robs, and he commanded the Xiscapian Shadow Ops. He drummed his fingers on the table and swished his bone-white tail as he read the report in front of him. "What's he up to?" he asked aloud to the empty room. Hundreds of Star Destroyers, millions of tanks and battle droids, or so reported his spies. Anyone buying such instruments of war in such large quantities said two things: I'm rich, and I'm powerful. This wasn't security. This was preperation for a war. "Get me all the data you can on a Alexander Kazansky."

Tag while I decide if I want in on this.

Piloted by a skeleton crew, twenty brand spanking new Imperator Star Destroyers lept out of hyperspace and settled into orbit over the planet Alcarinqua, their hulls gleaming deep red under the system's primary. A Vector Contractor stood on the bridge with a clipboard carrying flimsiplast paper, ready to hand off the Star Destroyers to Alexander. While he wondered what was happening to have Allanea build up so, he decided that as long as it didn't involve Coredia or her allies in any negative way, it was 'don't ask' for now.

"Lord Alexander Kazansky, we have delivered your ships. Please come up to take official charge, sign some paperwork, and recieve the New Star Destroyer air freshener as a bonus."

=====

Meanwhile, Jurai was a hustle and bustle of military activity when the apprentice arrived. After a short inspection whereby he was revealed to be Allanean, he was allowed to state his purpose here.

“Greetings. I am here to inspect the Imperators you are building for my Master” – stated Watanabe.

* * *

“Yes, I want more ships. Build more. More!” – Kazansky slammed the phone closed and then turned his attention to the Coreworlds ships in orbit. There they were, almost completely ready for his mission – and yet he knew the final adjustments he would take himself. And of course there would be that nagging thought – if the ships are here, what the hell is Watanabe doing on Jurai?

“Greetings. I am here to inspect the Imperators you are building for my Master” – stated Watanabe.
"Ah, I'm sorry, but they've already been launched." A flunky replied.

* * *

“Yes, I want more ships. Build more. More!” – Kazansky slammed the phone closed and then turned his attention to the Coreworlds ships in orbit. There they were, almost completely ready for his mission – and yet he knew the final adjustments he would take himself. And of course there would be that nagging thought – if the ships are here, what the hell is Watanabe doing on Jurai?
The Vector Contractor waited calmly for Kazansky to arrive and take over the ships.

And so Kazansky took command of the craft. Immediately after that was squared away, he opened a communication to Watanabe.

“I apologize, Padawan. You seem to have been late, through no fault of yours. As such, I give you a new order. Comission forty more Imperators, ensure construction begins on time, and go home.”

OOC: Text so this thing posts.

Lord Kazansky,
We have received your order, and have taken it upon ourselves to ensure that it is produced in the quickest, most efficient of manners. As of now, your order is being produced and should be completed in the near future.

We wish you luck on your endeavours, whatever they may be.

"The hell?!" Was the cry that came from Vector's reps. "You'd better pay extra for this!"

Forty Star Destroyers. That would require thirty months. Better get started, folks!

Unfortunately for Alex, the orders has raised eyebrows and sent up flags, allowing the Office of Field Marshal Daniel Masaki to send General Roy Mustang to investigate this matter. After all, anyone who would buy sixty Star Destroyers within three years was a potential threat, even if Allanea was doing nothing more than toughening up its fleet.

So, the General was sent aboard the Strike Cruiser Yo Momma to seek an audience with Alex...

Tag for possible involvment. My company, United WeaponsTech, specializes in small arms. Pulse rifles in my opinion would do much more damage than standard droid blasters.

OOC: Allanea’s navy isn’t being toughened. Alex is building a private army. I thought that was clear.

IC:

Alcarinqua’s orbit was a buzz of activity. Dozens, nay hundreds of warships buzzed about, all painted in the same shad of red, with Star of Feanor markings on prominent surface. Noticeable among the fold was the Miriel nos Feanor.

But Kazansky awaited the Coredians down on the plantetary surface of Alcarinqua ( http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=539945).

General Mustang stepped off the shuttle that landed after given clearance. Though he was ten years older than the Field Marshal, he appeared much the same as in his prime, a testament to either Coredian genetics, medicine or the food they eat. Even Coredians didn't exactly know the reasoning for long lives and youthful faces even over the course of decades, but few ever actually managed to take advantage of that since the war has taken a great toll.

Noticing Kazansky, he put on a smile. "I thank you for meeting me on short notice. You can imagine that we both have other things to do, but my superiors have decided to get a look at what you're doing and I must say that I am rather impressed that you amassed the forces in orbit in a short time. But where I say impressed, my government says suspicious. I come here to soothe the fears of the Senate and the High Council. Think you can help me with that?"

A single scout ship hovered near Alcarinqua, cloaked and it's engines off. It was exerting little power, which couldn't be seen if the area was scanned, due to the background radiation and other interferences. A spy camera watched from the craft, observing the work in orbit and the happenings on the ground. Xiscapian High Command was very interested in what was going on here...

"I don't understand, General. I am building a... private military. I frankly have not yet decided whom I will deploy it against. I will most likely consult my allies and friends before making any... drastic moves."

* * *

In the meanwhile an encrypted message would be sent to the Covenant, with a request for 200 frigates.

Subject: Possible weapons upgrades
Source: Kantari Merchant Fleet, subsidiary United WeaponsTech

To one Mr. Alexander Kazansky,
It has come to our attention that you have begun a recent buying trend of weaponry ranging from vessel to mechanized soldiers. Don't bother asking how we know, I'll cut right to the chase.

The standard weaponry of a Trade Federation model battle droid is not only woefully out of date but was underpowered even for its prime. Here at United WeaponsTech corporation we have a vast array of small arms that we feel would better suit your new army with...effective results. Our premier DM-150 MkII pulse rifle is a favorite of our customers for not only its compact size but also its sheer stopping power. The directed energy round it uses is much more effective than the standard blaster bolt and has been proven to burn through even the staunchest of infantry armor. The cost per unit is only 1500 credits with an underslung plasma grenade launcher standard.

We also have a large number of military vessels formerly belonging to the Dominion Defense Force, our largest customer. If you would also be interested in those additional information can be sent in a following correspondence. Thank you for time.

Department of Correspondence and Outreach, United WeaponsTech

"I don't understand, General. I am building a... private military. I frankly have not yet decided whom I will deploy it against. I will most likely consult my allies and friends before making any... drastic moves."
"A very large private military. One big enough to be a potential threat to us or our allies. To be frank, the advisors to the Field Marshal are paid to be paranoid to the hilt and the number of Star Destroyers that you are buying from us has certainly raised a few red flags. You must understand that we are a nation under siege by the Galactic Empire and that has caused us to be extremely diligent these days."

The Covenant were loathe to sell their dearly bought technology, especially being that of those beings they still revered for their sacrifice, the Forerunner. However, alliances ran deep and the Covenant were, if anything, loyal, and they recognized their allies in the Extra-Solar Union of System beyond any other commitment. As such, his call for frigates was answered.

In his office, a holopad would flicker and then activate, revealing an Huganok (http://images.wikia.com/halo/images/thumb/a/ab/Engineer.jpg/506px-Engineer.jpg), who was almost exactly like the millions of the other Huganok in the Empire, except he had a large blue crystal embedded with a Forerunner symbol to show his authority. Looking gravely at Alexander, it spoke quietly and with a whispery voice.

"The Covenant have heard your call and we shall provide you with what you need. It will be twenty-five billion credits per ship. Call us in half a years time and we will send them to you."

OOC: Ruthless Slaughter, contact me at MicroBalrog or MicrBalrog (both are mine) on AiM.

IC: Kazansky nodded at the Coredian General. Suddenly, something about his bearing became dangerous. Even through the voice-adapting mechanisms of his heavy armored suit, his anger could be felt. Are you accusing me of being… on the side of the Empire? What madness is this, General? Do you come here seeking to offend my honor as a servant of Her Majesty the Queen? What little do you know of me, to think I would deal and tolerate these slavers within reach of my sword and not shed their blood! What! The Empire! In the whole wide multiverse you could not find a better group of allied to me? Have you gone mad, General?! If you have, I may yet forgive this affront.

* * * *

“Yes. This is correct, padawan. Contact the Covenant. Tell them their prices are perfect. For five hundred billion dollars, we shall have our first batch of two hundred frigates. This shall make us a navy yet, shall it now?

* * * *

Elsewhere, far away from Alcarinqua, strange men began to gather towards Minas-Faerie, Kazansky’s Liberty-City palace. Some were rich, some poor, most were what is called ‘bourgeois’. Some had served in the Allanean Army, others in the AVF or the Miriel Brigade, yet others never at all. And yet they all assembled there, and waited.

And waited.

And then they waited some more.

Kazansky nodded at the Coredian General. Suddenly, something about his bearing became dangerous. Even through the voice-adapting mechanisms of his heavy armored suit, his anger could be felt. Are you accusing me of being… on the side of the Empire? What madness is this, General? Do you come here seeking to offend my honor as a servant of Her Majesty the Queen? What little do you know of me, to think I would deal and tolerate these slavers within reach of my sword and not shed their blood! What! The Empire! In the whole wide multiverse you could not find a better group of allied to me? Have you gone mad, General?! If you have, I may yet forgive this affront.
"It seems you proved yourself an enemy of the Empire just now." The General merely smiled, although a gloved hand was pulled out of his pocket. On the back of the glove was a strange symbol (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Roy_Mustang_Transmutation_Circle.svg). It seemed insignificant, but in reality, Roy was preparing to defend himself against the man if it comes to blows. "Forgive my slight, but I had to be sure of your intentions concerning your order."

Tidan was beginning the process of naval replacement. This would matter to Alexander only because it meant that most of Tidan's current naval power would become unused as the process continued. Eventually close to two thousand ships would be cycled out of active duty and mothballed. With the excentric Allanean causing quite a stir in Coredian and Dornalian circles, Tidan decided to see if they could line up a buyer before the first replacements even left the shipyards and make some money off them instead of sending them to a graveyard.

A spokesman was found for Kazansky and the offer was proposed. In single Fleet installments, Tidan's old but still fully functional navy (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Tidani_Star_Fleets#Active__Fleets) would be put back into service. That was if Kazansky wanted them.

“Careful, my friend.” – Kazansky replied. – “I did not say anything more or less then what I said. I have not decided exacty how I shall use this… navy. But I can promise you it will not be used against you, or to aid the Empire.”

In the meanwhile, Kazansky’s apprentices prepared the transfer of an entire two trillion dollar sum to pay for the Tidanese ships. With this purchase, Kazansky’s personal navy would be complete before schedule.

The General looked into Kazansky's eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. He may not be a Jedi Knight, but he still knew how to read people well. Convinced of this man's sincerity, the General smiled warmly. "Very well. I am convinced that you will do no harm to us. Again, we had to be sure. My apologies on behalf of the Coredian people. I will convey approval to my government, then. You will see your new order within the next thirty six months."

OOC: Alex wears powered armor. Actually, you should be familiar with this armor because Alex wore it to the party/conference after Palpatine got killed

A call went to Kazansky's office, from Jensen Design itself:

"Hi, this is Fred Smedley, from Orders and Procurements over at Jensen Design. Your order has been confirmed. We've run it through Legal and Procurement and though they're a little concerned about where the ships are going, its technically legit. Expect it to come within four to six months."

And with that, construction of a hundred deep-red Zaitsev export model ISDs--basically ISDs in all but name--commenced across New Dornalia.

Liberty-City

And the streets glowed red as blood.

Millions of war droids marched down Liberty Avenue in a single, endless formation, legion after legion, army after army, filing down to LCAX and into the maws of massive transports and out into orbit – there, the command ships waited, red as blood, to accept their cargos.

And yet, the camp-out in front of Minas-Faerie was still there – not many people, but they were there, over five thousand veterans and fans. They waited for Kazansky, and eventually he came to them. The doors of his palace opened, and he came out, though none remembered him coming in.

“Hi.”

“Greetings, Your Majesty!”

“What? I ain't King of Allanea quite yet. You need to actually save the country to be one.” - smiled the former President. - “So, boys, why are you parked outside my house? How can I help you guys?”

A man came out of the crowd. He looked in his forties, but it meant nothing. With Allanean surgery, he could be sixteen – or sixteen hundred. The left part of his face was covered in steel plate.

“Sir, we fought together in many wars. You see my face – the Aelosians did that to me, back in Auman. I fought for you in a dozen wars, sometimes next to you, sometimes far away. But Sir, some of us don't care much for Congress or it's parties, or President Reynes and her cowardice. We want to fight for you, not some idiot politician. You're raising an army. Everybody knows that. You don't need – how many are there – a million droids for a bodyguard.”

“That be truth, friend. I'm raisng an army. There are three hundred fifty-five million war droids.”

The crowd gasped. “Sir... you're raising an army.” - pressed the veteran. -”Can we join up?”

“No, my friend.”

The crowd buzzed. Kazansky raised his hands in imploration, and silence fell again.

“You see, my friend – I see no problem with taking people with me into the path of danger when they're figihting for their country, for their freedom – if they're volunteers. I never commanded Allanean draftees, nor will I.”

“But there's that – and taking people with mothers, wives, girlfriends into the way of harms for my own personal causes, for my glory and benefit. I'm not doing that. This is why my ships have subsentient droid crews and I use droid infantry. I'm only taking a handful of sentients.”

“Sir, that's insane. We want to go. We know it's not a war for the nation. It's a war for you. You know you need sapient commanders, and more then five at that. You can't manage a fully-droid army that size on your own. Again, we know it's a war for you – you think the people who sign up for CBSF don't know they're not fighting for Allanea?”

“But Sir, we want a job where we shoot people and they shoot back at us. And we'd rather lay down our lives for someone we know and care for – someone whom gave us everything we love – then some stupid politician in Liberty-City.”

“What do you not understand?” - Kazansky cried out - “I want you to live, damn it! I fought and bled and sacrificed countless of lives so that people could live in Liberty-City as free men, relax at parties and smoke weed. But for that to be kept, there need to be people in the city streets who still care to fight, fight in the polling booths and at the computer keyboards and with cameras and with posters and with truth instead of guns. I want you at your posts here, men. I want you to live.”

The next batch of Star Destroyers were finally ready, and this time, Vector Industries sent the appropriate notice that Kazansky's order was ready. The Coredians were still a bit wary (hell, they even put a secret code in to disable the ISDs should they be turned against them) but business was still business and it was good.

The first delivery arrived in Alcarinqua's system. The Tidani fleet, 360 ships, had been prepared for the transfer and painted deep red. They were followed by an armada of transports ready to ferry the Tidani personnel back to Ti.

They moved into the system towards Alcarinqua where ships were amassing, and transmitted their ID along with the purchase code.

The fleet began to take shape. The orders have beenm made, the ships purchased, the money – a total of approximately thirty-six and a half trillion dollars – paid to the recipients. It was now only a matter of receiving all the ships.

In the meanwhile, Kazansky continued to receive please from veterans, supporters, and various fans to take them along on whatever was it he was planning. Of course, these weren't common among the populace – but given it was a populace of almost ten billion sapients, it was obvious that there would still be plenty of requests to dig through.

Kazansky discarded the requests – and they merely piled up more.

Fleets came and went, soon all five were blood red and in orbit. The crews said goodbye to their old ships, they boarded the transports and prepared to leave for the last time. The commander of the group conacted Kazansky to notify him that the last shipment had arrived and their contract had thus been fulfilled.

“Very well.” - nodded the former Field Marshal to his apprentices. - “The Fleets are ready, you say? We are golden then. Now leave me alone.”

“But master..”

“I said alone.”

Kazansky relaxed in his chair, his suit of armor folding itself up and melting away, until only a large black belt-buckle remained of the Command Armor.

He closed his eyes.

“Computer, activate speech archive, section from July 9th... that one, yes. Set volume six. Play it for me.”

And he fell asleep, and his dreams were pleasant, and the Voice rung in his mind as he dreamt.

Awakening was painful. As usual.