NationStates Jolt Archive

12 Months Ago - Prime Minister’s Office, Government House, Navarre

“So, we’re agreed, Barham, that we can no longer afford our current stagnation, and this is the only way forward?” Farahind lent back in her chair, blond hair contrasting with the black eye patch that crossed her face at an angle. She shuffled the notes in her hand, perfectly memorised, the mannerism was there to indicate haste and impatience. The Prime Minister of the Freethinker Commonwealth, Sir Theodore Barham, looked back at her from behind his desk, tired, unflinching, but with the unmistakable air of an old man looking on his unwanted but assured heir.

“The economic failure of New Dawn does not necessarily signal the end of our efforts in that technological expansion. I certainly see no reason we need to embark on neo-colonial imperialism anew, given the…problems we have experienced over the last century or so with Fargon.”

“And yet now Fargon rests peacefully and we have the experience to ensure such feelings and animosity do not arise again. No one is going to actively discriminate or even assume inferiority, especially as given the reports we will have to relocate the resident population to bring it up to a recognisable and effectively capable colony.”

Barham sighed, leaning back behind his desk. The evening red light shone through the window overlooking the Docklands in the distance, causing him to shield his ancient eyes from the glare.

“Assuming we go ahead…”

“Yes?”

“Sovereignty and enforcing are issues.“ He spoke softly. “There was a past civilization here lest we forget. We have no prior claim and our current justification is based on regional precedent and the simple fact the stability we can bring along with freedom and prosperity will greatly benefit both the remaining natives and the surrounding countries, including our Klatchian and Midlonian allies.”

“Ah yes. This is Midlonia’s sphere of influence. Do you believe they will be welcoming?”

“The motherland is our ally…” Barham slowly nodded in agreement.

“In a region such as Haven with several competing power blocs this is a very positive move from their position, given it significantly increase their own security in the South Haven region given the proximity of our resources to their in terms of defence and power projection. Given we are also stabilising their Eastern colony border and providing new and impressive trading opportunities it shouldn’t be a concern.”

“And everyone else, Farahind?”

“What about them? There are only ourselves and our honour-bound commitments to those we truly owe them to. No one else matters, really…and if someone objects, we retain sufficient military capacity and allies in the area to enforce our claims regardless…”

“Enforce?” Barham breathed in sharply, “I do hope that you are sure it will not come to a clash of arms. I know how your…kind enjoys getting rather up close and bloody…” Farahind’s eyes narrowed at the implied racial slur and Barham went silent, though he remained close and his expression didn’t change. Old war scars seemed more prominent now. They both feel silent, then the Prime Minister spoke one last time.

“The papers call you my heir apparent, but that does not mean I will let you start gallivanting around on my watch. The colony committee is under your chairmanship. If you screw it up I will make sure you never see the interior of this office again.”

Farahind stared for a moment, eyes still piercing, before sighing, giving a curt nod, and rising to leave without any more words.

Present Day - 5th Expeditionary Fleet - Hallad Straits

455 ships made up the Freethinker naval force sailing through the Haven seas, a small fleet by most resident’s standards and indeed were any hostile intention meant for the assembled residents the force would probably have been wiped out in a matter of days. But any observer, and so much displacement so close to so many homelands undoubtedly would attract its fair share of eyes in the sky, would see it was another intention that ordered the fleet onwards.

Inside the picket lines of destroyers and frigates lay not cruisers or battleships but civilian and military cargo carriers, backed by landing ships and flattops lined with row upon row of helicopters and rotodynes, orange jump suited specialists alongside fatigue-clad marines and naval men-at-arms preparing thousands of tons of heavy duty equipment in preparation for landing.

Round Aurora they sailed, and then they made anchor along the unoccupied coastline between Pieronic and the Midlonian colony further along the peninsula…

455 ships spread over fifty miles of coast. From their decks the crews readied, marines and men-at-arms alongside teams of surveyors, engineers and scientists, their maps and plans already set.

And then, at 05:00 the next day, they took off.

Olympia was born.

27th Fast Battleship Squadron, 200 Km's North West of Aurora

The small force of fourteen ships was on regular patrol duties in the Southern part of Haven, tasked in observing shipping and flying the flag for the Royal Navy and Crown in the Hallad Strait area. Steaming ahead this small force protected Clandonian and allied shipping from the two Praetonian colonies, exporting materials back the homelands of the Royal Georgian League. The larger ships being the Victorious and Broadsword Class ships, a battlecruiser for surface warfare and the Clandonian designed and built Broadsword for long range observation, intelligence gathering and superior air defence.

The sky's constantly scanned by the powerful radar SAMSON 3D on HMS Bradford, the leading anti-air battlecruiser of the Block II construction programme. A relatively modern ship with all the comforts of a larger warship, her crew working on preparing the ship for passing through Birchester on route to Cape King George. The ships command centre, heavily armoured and in a seal atmosphere to prevent damage to sensitive equipment in the humid and tropical expanse. Electronic Warfare Officers scanning and monitoring long range sensors, communicating with the Admiralty and the RAF Space Command for satellite intelligence and shipping forecasts.

"Morning report sir, a G4M6 from an airbase in the South when dropping sonar's spotted a foreign fleet just off the coast of the Midlonian colony, ships are identical in the RNIC database to those of Freethinker design, I suspect Sir they may be on a little expedition."

"Fax it to Warminster, dispatch a Goshawk to determine location then inform the squadron we are turning around to investigate. Dispatch a communication requesting clarication of nationality and their intent in this part of Haven."

"Yes Sir, right on it."


[==Flash Communication==]

TO: Unknown Foreign Fleet
FROM: HMS Bradford, 27th Fast Battleship Squadron
SUBJECT: Nationality and Intent
CC: Fleet Command,

Greetings and salutations, we request clarification of your nationality and intent in this part of Haven. We are not hostile forces and mean you no harm, all we ask if your reasoning for a foreign military presence in this part of Haven and the duration time.


2nd Lieutenant Christopher Jones, Communication and Linguistics Officer

[END]

Amongst the missives, memos and reports that filled the preliminary survey command space the message from the small Clandonian fleet arrived alongside the knowledge of their precense on the radar and EW screens of outer pickets on the colonisation armada.

It soon found its way, its importance based on its extranational origins, onto the desk of Sarah Farahind herself, filing through and signing orders with the pace of an autographing movie star. The note cause her to pause more than most, and she penned out a reply on the pad to ensure the personal assurance was provided. They didn't need hassle at this point, after all.

LOS - Band E

TO: HMS Bradford
CC: Admiralty Datanode, Joint Command Centre
FROM: Major Sarah Farahind FRA, FRNS Osprey
SUBJECT: Re: Nationality and Intent

Greetings.

Your message of welcome was much appreciated and I can assure you that our intentions, as with yours, are niether hostile or aggressive in nature towards either the Clandonian nation or the countries of Haven in general.

In light of recent reevaluations of Freethinker colonisation and expansion policies we have decided, given the plethora both of suitable land for colonisation and the significant amount of international legal precedent established in the region, to embark, upon non-territorial or otherwise claimed land, upon a progressive territorial expansion marked on maps below;

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v195/The_Freethinkers/Olympiasmall.png

The expansion aims to provide both increased Freethinker security and prosperity and also to help our allies in the region with their own commercial and defence needs. We can proudly state by taking over the ruined remains of the last civilization that occupied this territory some decades ago (and whose current natives are few, subsistence-based and feral-tribal in nature) we can reestablish a working, soverieign colonial entity that can only add to the prosperous Haven family of nations and peoples.

The fleet itself, though large, is primairly here to support and aid the expansion movement, through providing basic escort capacity, engineering and logistical support and providing security to our growing landside commitments. The colonisation effort will be significant given the limited timescale involved, and as such large and rapid transitions by numerous Freethinker military and impressed civilian ships will be a common sight in the coming months.

We respect these will be watched and monitored, and request only that the laws of international navigation and communication are upheld. Any requests for headings and intended routes may be made to the Freethinker Admiralty in Navarre and also on high seas navigation frequencies as the need requires.

We expect Olympia's territorial integrity to be respected, and the territory marked should now be considered to be under the sovereign authority of the Freethinker Commonwealth.

Godspeed,

Dame Major Sarah Farahind FRA

-----End data burst

Freethinker Coastline

It had taken a while, but finally the corvette was within sight of Freethinker territorial waters. The corvette was painted a dark green, which set it apart from any other navy in the world as only one country fielded green ships of this sort.

The Blubs had come.

The single corvette ran a white flag of peace up its conn tower and then proceeded to approach the shores. It then radio'd friendly intentions and a RIB was lowered down. After a few minutes, it too took off and beached itself cozily between two Freethinker transports.

Onboard were a handful of .. Blubs. Small, 3 foot tall-ish tentacle monsters. With eyestalks. They blinked curiously at the transports, and then proceeded up the beach towards the nearest Freethinker beachmaster station. Several of them had their tentacles full of boxes.

The leader of the delegation spoke English, and pronounced in the small, squeaky voice of a blub, "Greetings! I am Ambassador Bribble. I respectfully request to meet with your leadership." He beamed a charming smile.

Not so far away,
HMS Temeraire

The sleek aircraft carrier pushed through the waves, Blackburn Beaufort light fighters sitting on the catapults, pilots leaning over to chat to the aircrew below them. It was a warm day on the Strobovian Strait, and the crew on the carrier were relaxing. Only months ago, this area of sea was the site of a vicious naval battle between Commonwealth and NATO Forces. Below in the murky deep oceans of Haven, they knew lay the bodies of thousands of sailors on both sides The war had been bloody, expensive, short, and pointless, and it left a bitter taste in the mouths of billions across the region. Now, Questarian naval forces patrolled this area of sea once again.

Disturbing the peacefulness of the situation, the Beauforts were brought to one side of the deck, as an external elavator lifted itself up, crew scurrying around. The Supermarine Sportsman AEW.2, wings folded, appeared slowly into view, and as the elavator came to a full stop, the two Beaufort pilots looked over to see the aircraft being unfolded. Within minutes the plane was on the flight deck and being prepared for launch. A full ten minutes later, she was in the air, the two Beauforts following her, their pilots mumbling about actually having to do work. As their afterburners shot off into the distance, seamen onboard the Temeraire looked up and shrugged, returning to their beer and card games.

If the Freethinker fleet was paying attention; which it most certainly was, it would have noted (if its air defence network was precise enough) three planes flying in a dagger formation, circling just 150 klicks from the centre of their formation. The Sportsman AEW.2 of course was gathering information; approximate fleet size, largest ships size, and such, before electronically sending it up to a satellite, which would encode it and send it back down to the Temeraire. As the information was received, the crew of the aircraft were just about ready to turn for home before they received new orders.

OVERFLY ENEMY FLEET STOP GAIN DIRECT AND PHOTOGRAPHIC INTELLIGENCE STOP GOD SAVE THE KING STOP OUT.

Crew sighing with a resignation that joining the military actually meant being put in danger, the Sportsman accelerated and dived slightly, and would continue its path until flying at least two kilometres over the Freethinker fleet; unless of course, it was orderered to stop. The pilot looked wistfully out of the aircraft to see the two Beauforts banking for home, grins and waves from their cockpits. He leant back in his seat and stared into space. Time to go to work.

The Blub

After tracking the object with a mixture of caution and surprise as it moved through the cordon established by the Freethinker fleet. However, under common sea law the vessel was allowed to move through territorial waters regardless, and the fact it did nothing hostile after its intrusion and its obeyal of the instructions telling the crew to steer clear of the unloading craft basically it was cautiously watched as opposed to outright warned away.

So as it neared the shore and its intentions not to attack but to land became clear, then from the nearest survey station (what the Blubs had assumed to be a beach 'base') came four elongated jeeps with heavy roll bars and oversized bumpers, which then formed an irregular convoy and drove down to meet the arriving...creatures, all twenty odd seats were filled.

Most of the figures that emerged from the vehicles were dressed in marine fatigues, though a few casually-dressed civilians mingled in amongst them, slight frames clashing against the bulk of muscle and armour that surrounded and towered over them. Rifles whose recoil alone would reduce a human's shoulder bones to liquid lay in slung across their shoulders, the men at ease in a lose pattern around the presiding officer and looking confused more than anything at what approached them on the inflatable.

Nonhumans were certainly not strangers to the Freestians, and given most of the soldiers standing there certainly sat outside the homi genus it wasn't the idea as such of an alien causing them consternation in so much as extending protocol to what look like an overenlarged bogie.

Nonetheless, when the craft landed and its occupants departed, the officer avoided touching by instead offering a respectable salute, leaving his rather put out civilian companion to offer a handshake to the waiting tentacle.

"Welcome to Olympia, Ambassador." [i]Bribble[/i!] "...My name is John Remmick, I am the official in charge of the surveying and planning team here and the person responsible of this area for the time being. I guess I am in authority to meet you and see what you require."

Questers

The line of picket ships sitting offshore from the landing transports were probably too few in number to be a match for even regional fleets of the Haven home nations. Even so, they expected visitors, and being Freethinker they were alot less trigger happy than most. Spysats and then aerial AEW aircraft watched the small formation, appearing and moving as predicted, at the edge of the picket's engagement range.

Command & Control Station, FRNS Hamburg

At eighty thousand tons and the the dimensions of a supercarrier the Hamburg wasn't exactly either small or underpowered, and its powerful AAW suite pretty much ensured it aerial dominance from horizon to horizon and afair bit beyond. Majestic and powerful she thundered through the waves but her incredible stability meant this was barely felt deep within the armoured fighting heart of the vessel herself.

Captain John Mackay brushed the dust off his epulats as he peered over the rating's shoulder at the holograhic display charting the three dimensional virtual trail of the Questerian aircraft. He gave an almost bemused smirk and turned to the PWO next to him, a young, rather timid looking Lieutenent named Linya who could barely see the display given the position the captain had got himself into.

"Questerians? Getting quite the welcome. You spotted the mother?"

"Carrierborne, sigint puts it beyond eye OTH range, big 'un, passive reception, can't put it ina larger group but if its Quester its probably got a small fleet with it sir."

"Right, Mr Wilkins, bearing and intercept?"

"0-1-0 at 98 miles, heading 2-7-0 Angels 18 clocking at 356 k, will be skir....we've got a change in course, turning to 1-9-0, she's heading in towards us sir, erm, poodles changing, breaking off. Just one track maintaining 1-9-0, going lower, speed still low. Return looks like their AEW type, checking configuration. Will get LOSIC in six minutes Sir."

"Coming for a peek? We've got him if he tries anything right?"

"Enough firepower to wipe out an entire carrier airwing. Seems unhostile. I'm guessing overflight. Welcome wagons on 0-8-0 to target at 56 k, can swing by in four minutes. Requesting warning and ident procdure sir!"

The Lieutenent spoke up for the firts time in a while.

"You sure of its designation? Its intent?"

"Lieutenent, you need to trust your men. Hardly an Allanean now is he? Wilkins gave a secret grin as the man on the next console spoke up.

"Yes Travis?" Said Lt Linya, smarting slightly. "EM track?"

"Just a transmit feed, too weak to get fully and its encrypted anyway, unknown cypher. Logged it up but it appears to be a standard protocol message. I'm getting garble at the end, I'm guessing personalisation but thats all."

"Can it carry anything that can hurt us?"

"Hurt us? Hell no. This baby can shrug off Yakhonts if need be. Transports and ground targets maybe but I can't see anything that indicates it even has an attack capability. Type info certainly doesn't suggest so."

"Eye coming into range now." A hefty warrant officer yelled from a wraparound console opposite them, one of the radar specialised stations. On Wilkin's screen the display changed fromt he track to a nigh-perfect model of the incoming aircraft, a mixture and collabaration of data from several vessels and sensors systems, witht he track itself moving toa smaller holo display in the corner.

"Alright, looks fairly harmless" Linya let out a sigh. "Time to picket?"

"Eight minutes." The Warrant yelled again, flicking thr resolution on his own projection. "She's speeding up."

"Thank you Mr Harrerd," Mackay pondered for the briefest of moments then yelled to the three aircraft coordinators on the far side of the armoured centre, "have the welcome wagon provide two vices, a tap, a lock and then engage. SOP for prelim fire. Lets see if we can shake this guy up a little."

In the air, sixty miles from the picket and what was now Freethinker territorial waters, four distant black shapes took up formation behind the now lone Sportsman. Two remained a mile behind, their purpose understood, leaving the two leading aircraft to flank the Questerian craft on either side at a distance of a hundred metres or so.

"Unknown Questerian aircraft, this is Osprey Bravo of the Freethinker Royal Navy Air Service. Please be advised of both the upcoming territorial waters directly ahead on your current bearing, currently off limits without prior notification to none-allied aircraft, and the security pickets established around our military maritime commitments. Please provide at least five miles clearence round each active vessel otherwise we have been instructed to interpret your actions as hostile. Please confirm instructions, over."

The Blub

After tracking the object with a mixture of caution and surprise as it moved through the cordon established by the Freethinker fleet. However, under common sea law the vessel was allowed to move through territorial waters regardless, and the fact it did nothing hostile after its intrusion and its obeyal of the instructions telling the crew to steer clear of the unloading craft basically it was cautiously watched as opposed to outright warned away.

So as it neared the shore and its intentions not to attack but to land became clear, then from the nearest survey station (what the Blubs had assumed to be a beach 'base') came four elongated jeeps with heavy roll bars and oversized bumpers, which then formed an irregular convoy and drove down to meet the arriving...creatures, all twenty odd seats were filled.

Most of the figures that emerged from the vehicles were dressed in marine fatigues, though a few casually-dressed civilians mingled in amongst them, slight frames clashing against the bulk of muscle and armour that surrounded and towered over them. Rifles whose recoil alone would reduce a human's shoulder bones to liquid lay in slung across their shoulders, the men at ease in a lose pattern around the presiding officer and looking confused more than anything at what approached them on the inflatable.

Nonhumans were certainly not strangers to the Freestians, and given most of the soldiers standing there certainly sat outside the homi genus it wasn't the idea as such of an alien causing them consternation in so much as extending protocol to what look like an overenlarged bogie.

Nonetheless, when the craft landed and its occupants departed, the officer avoided touching by instead offering a respectable salute, leaving his rather put out civilian companion to offer a handshake to the waiting tentacle.

"Welcome to Olympia, Ambassador." [i]Bribble[/i!] "...My name is John Remmick, I am the official in charge of the surveying and planning team here and the person responsible of this area for the time being. I guess I am in authority to meet you and see what you require."

The little green tentacle wasn't slimey at all. It was sort of firm, like shaking hands with an octopus, minus the suckers. The Blub delegation looked up at the humans curiously, eyestalks lifted to blink owlishly now and then at the assembly. It was rather clear that none of the 'aliens' were armed in any way except for the boxes they carried.

"Nice to meet you Mister Remmick. Every nation in Haven gets an assigned ambassador from Blubland. Wether you choose to accept it or not is up to your government, I suppose. We brought gifts!"

And one by one the Blubs opened their boxes revealing various items made in Blubland. Paintings, woodworked carvings, sculptures, various luxury foods. One Blub held back. Bribble looked at him, then squeaked something in Blubbish. The delegate squeaked back, looking embarassed. Bribble frowned and then shook a tentacle admonishingly at the delegate while he wiped a bit of chocolate from around his mouth. He then opened his box to show Bribble nothing inside but some confection paper and crumbs.

Ambassador Bribble turned back nervously and spoke in English again, "Ah! My esteemed college here seems to have.. uh.. lost the 'Welcome to Haven' cake. We'll have another one shippd in overnight." Blink. "Perhaps we should look for a spot to set up an embassy."

Lieutenant First Class Henderson would have facepalmed if he had the time to. Tuning in the response frequency, he got the update from his radar man just before he was about to respond. "They're buzzing us."

Fucking hell. Henderson sighed. Just my luck to get into a spot of bother after the war ends. He pulled the Sportsman into a slow dive, bringing her to just two thousand feet, the waves of the Havenic ocean crunching and splashing beneath the plane, and replied.

"Osprey Bravo, this is Temeraire Victor One of the Questarian Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm. We are on a routine aerial patrol mission. Your territorial borders are noted and respected. Our intent is non-hostile, repeat, our intent is non-hostile. Over."

Phew. Henderson waited for the reply, pulling his Sportsman over and into the sixteen hundred feet mark. As he approached the territorial limits, he began to slowly curve around them, holding just off by five miles at the edge of the maritime claim which his radar man was now illuminating on the radar navigation map for him.

"Big Fish, this is Temeraire Victor One, have been told to stand off at borders, requesting orders, over."

The crackling response shot back from the bridge of the aircraft carrier. "Temeraire Victor One, this is Big Fish. Hold off and relay their transmissions."

Henderson did was he was told, rolling the plane over and pulling it into the ifnal dive of a thousand feet. Here he could scan the fringes of the Freethinker fleet, but Henderson turned his radars off; after all, he didn't want to provoke the Freethinker fleet. He waited impatiently for the Freethinker response.

The Blub

"Erm, thank you." Remmick mumbled, slightly taken aback by the gifts and looking somewhat confused, before he made a pleading nod towards some of the surrounding Marines, who gave a look to the officer. The ghoul captain merely nodded and smiled, and the gifts were collected by several of the watching men.

"And...an embassy...well, err." He looked around, gesticulating at the wild brushland and jungle behind him. "You are somewhat early. Erm, given that, you know, we don't actually have any cities or roads or..well, anything, really. I can welcome you to come back to our base and see what we're up to, see if it interests you or presents and opportunity. I can try and get the mission to come down and have a word with you about it herself if you like?" He smiled again, more confidentally. "It will be something, I'll tell you that."

Questers

"Confirmation of intent recieved Victor One, present course is acceptable." Wilkins spoke softly and clearly, Mackay behind him nodding along. "Be advised you will be tracked and locked from various vessels as you move along the picket. Keep all channels open for future notice." He switched the mike off for the moment and stared at the tracking.

"Brave little sod ain't he?"