NationStates Jolt Archive

Blubland

While the rest of the Haven Region went on with its normal life, they somehow failed to notice the steadily collapsing economy of Blubland. With the relocation of its most-powerful trading partner, Cohenia, the Blubs had tried to adapt themselves for overseas trade. Their position on the northern part of the continent however, isolated them from the more central economy of Haven.

The Blubs had never really been very self-sufficient, in truth the massive levels of support given to them by various world powers had spoiled them somewhat and created a dangerous vulnerability to shortages in vital areas. While the mostly unexplored eastern parts of Blubland had oil and natural gas, it would take years at least to tap and begin refining. The Blubs needed certain goods now.

And so, the story begins. Months after the BCN Blubnought was brought out of retirement (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=542043) and a top-secret base established (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=542746), Blubland stood ready for a desperate attempt to avoid a major depression.

The Ocean

BCN Blubnought rocked gently in the ocean's swells. Onboard in the CIC, its captain stood silent and brooding, staring down at a plasma screen table with his eyestalks as he contemplated the real-time map image shown on the screen.

An aide tapped the screen with a tentacle, which responded by zooming in on a section of the map, which was littered with dozens of small yellow dots and numbers. The section zoomed in showed a trio of green markers closing in on one lone yellow marker. "Captain, Taskforce Alvin is making their approach now. Taskforces Betty and Gunther are on stand-by."

The Captain nodded. BCN Blubnought was too large and slow to make an effective pirate, but it was serving its purpose as a command ship admirably. It had even been fitted with extra comm equipment for just this mission. "Very well. Patch me through to TF Alvin."

A moment later, one of the techs handed the Captain a growler phone, which he held to his head. "Commodore Rup?" a reply, then, "You may commence operations. Take all precaution, do not select a Haven-flagged ship and try not to cause undue casulties. You are clear."

Taskforce Alvin

The trio of ships speeding across the ocean immedietly went to flank speed. At their head was a Donaldson Class Cruiser (http://img514.imageshack.us/img514/541/ransdonaldsonwu6.png) and spread out to either side, a pair of aging Arleigh Burke class destroyers.

On a signal, all three ran flags up the mast lines.

http://img405.imageshack.us/img405/7125/pirateblubya7.png

The Donaldson Class, BCN Interceptor radio'd to the large ship looming on the horizon:

This is the Interceptor, you will immedietly stop your ship for inspection. You have one minute to comply, or we will disable your vessel.

And, the cruiser's front guns opened up. A single barrel fired, and after several seconds of flight time.. the impact blew a geyser of water up a few kilometers from the unknown, foreign ship.

(OOC: At this point, anyone can presume to 'own' the ship. Anyone can also jump in. You're welcome to do so. Just play realisticly, please, for example a huge fleet wouldn't just materialize out of nowhere. The OOC thread for this will be located here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=543179 )

To: Blubland

From: companies of "Westren Oil" and "North Gas Corp".

To the nation of Blubland.

We are currently able to provide you with modest-large amount of Crude oil, and very large amount of natural gas, to sastifay your current needs.

By estimations of our experts, the amount of Crude oil we can provide you with is enough for the number of eighty-seven (87) million people including their electric (from oil powerplants) fuel for cars and similar, and the amount of natural gas we can provide you with is enough for the number of two-hundred and one (201) million people.

All of this will be priced totally at the amount of $350 billion universal dollars.

Ofcourse, if you will accept that deal, we will immediantly increase production so we can sell more oil & gas to you.

To: Blubland

From: William Ravenna, CEO of 'Bredford International Commerce'.

BIC (Bredford International Commerce) is the largest private company in Bredford.

We own & produce everything.

Cars, trucks, Oil, Gas, food, ammo, guns, tanks, civilian & military aircraft, military ships, civilian ships, Iron, coal, food, nuclear energy, nuclear submarines, titanium, pharmaceuticals, and the list is too long to remember.

(We also own services, such as restaraunts, hotels, cinemas, trucking services and such..)

Simply, notify us with that you need, and how much you need, and for a fair price we will ship it to you.

OOC: Sorry, but the state of the Blubland economy is not exactly public knowledge. I'm sort of looking for interaction here, not a "This July 07 nation can solve another nation's economy problems in an instant" type of thing.

ooc: .. sigh. Bump.

ooc: Bump. >.<

The pirate dreadnought sat there, waiting for the perfect time to strike. However, before it could react, some enemy fire impacted on its hull armour. One of the sailors, who was eating crumpets, suddenly fell out of his chair.

"Curses!"

The captain issued the order for the ship to fire one barrage of its forward three-gun battery. The 405mm shells zoomed out of the barrels with deafening roars, and flew towards the Blub ships. Meanwhile, a fisherman's boat was hit by a stray shell from the Blub Colony, killing two ageing fishermen and ruining their catches.

OOC: .... I'm really confused. Why are you RPing my actions? Are you playing a warship, or a fishing troller? >.>

OOC: Meanwhile, a fisherman's boat was hit by a stray shell from the Blub Colony, killing two ageing fishermen and ruining their catches.

Mmmkay. So, you're just a competing pirate? I hope you've read my post. My ships are pirates.

Taskforce Alvin

The Blubs had infact, only fired a single shell thus far. A mere warning shot, which had landed well starboard of the unidentified ship. And, of course the unknown 'pirate' dreadnought had fired.

Shells bracketed Taskforce Alvin's starboard-most Arleigh Burke. The nimble little destroyer turned sharply to port, heading towards the BCN Interceptor and went to flank speed again. Captain Rup frowned on the bridge of his cruiser, rubbing at his eyestalks with a tentacle. Then he gestured, "Helm. Reduce speed, align forward battery."

The turrets on the front of the cruiser creaked softly as they turned, angling upwards to aim at the enemy ship. A new message was sent out to the enemy warship:

Warning! Cease fire! Stop your ship immedietly and prepare for inspection. You have twenty seconds to comply or we will open fire.

Taskforce Alvin

Commodore Rup muttered as the inbound missile tracks appeared on the CIC charts. "Idiot." His eyestalks turned towards an aide as the CIC's lights dimmed, and armored shielding slid down over the windows of the bridge, "Call in to the Cove. Inform the Captain that we are under attack by an unknown ship bearing two, two nine. Range is approximately fifty kilometers."

In the backround, the comm officer began relaying the information. Interceptor and her two destroyer escorts zig-zagged at maximum flank speed as shells began to fall around the cruiser. A single hit smashed against the bow high near the deck, punching a hole through the armor and penetrating into the anchor room. The ship shuddered. Interceptor, being a very missile-heavy ship aligned itself, presenting a narrow front as the enemy cruise missiles closed the range.

One at a time, the ship's RAM system began to launch Thorn Defender missiles. They sped forward in a head-on course with the cruise missiles, and in three brief flashes.. exploded, hitting two of the inbounds. The third enemy cruise missile closed to within 900 meters, before it was taken down by one of the escort's CIWS. The cruse missile's body kept moving by inertia, and smashed against the closed bridge window armor.

"Guns, return the favor. I want a full spread, followed by a second wave from the 'Burkes in a moment. Maintain speed, many more hits from those guns and we're in trouble."

And with a massive WHOOOOSH, the big missile tubes on the sides of the ship began to launch. One after another, eight Exocet anti-shipping missiles screamed out at about 15 meters height off the waves.

The Arleigh Burkes each fired two Harpoon anti-shipping missiles about ten seconds later.

"Vampires away, Commodore! Time to impact, eighty five seconds!"

And to add to the fury, the Interceptor fired its six forward 8in/55 caliber Mark 14 main guns, volley after volley. The current bearing of attack prevented the rear battery from coming into play.

OOC: Just for OOC information.

Interceptor is a Donaldson Class (http://img514.imageshack.us/img514/541/ransdonaldsonwu6.png), with 22 4-tube missile batteries. It's also packing 3 3-barrel 8inch guns (2-1), several CIWS and a pair of 40mm bofors AAA guns.

The two Arleigh Burkes are stripped down versions with 36 VLS tubes carrying land and sea attack cruise missiles, CIWS, 4 SSM launchers and a 60mm bofors.

OOC: About 175 meters.

OOC: You mind if I rp one of my destroyers joining the battle?

OOC: You mind if I rp one of my destroyers joining the battle?

OOC: Feel free. Just remember, it's a fight between two pirates. There's not really a 'goodguy' here at the moment.

Near the "Pirate" battle

2 DMG made dragon class destroyers and 1 Shadow Stealth Ship were on patrol duty when they sighted flashes ahead of them.

"A naval battle sir?"asked the first mate who looked nervous.

"No, looks like a couple of ships."said the captain, then he went to the radar room.

"Looks like a couple og ships."said the Radar operator.

"Do not approach the fighting."

I think I'm done here. A ship that has 14 seperate 405mm guns batteries, 12 seperate 127mm batteries.. 4 'coilguns' and 62 VLS tubes? This is MT. Not PMT. Also the fact that you can't count (Owing that I fired 12 missiles, not 8) and clearly don't read my posts thoroughly.

Thanks for ruining my idea for RP, though.

The coilguns then pointed at the Interceptor, and all six fired the Spikes at the interceptors at speeds exceeding 4,000m/s.

Erm, do you honestly think that Mach 407 is feasibly attainable anywhere this side of FT? Not to mention the horrific power requirements of doing that.

Erm, do you honestly think that Mach 407 is feasibly attainable anywhere this side of FT? Not to mention the horrific power requirements of doing that.

Thank you. I'm glad someone else has the same problems with this as I do.

ooc: Since I don't think anyone has yet claimed it...

ic:

The Serene Fiefdom Ship Steadfast was not a particularly interesting ship on not a particularly interesting voyage.

Ploughing a course from Japan to the port of Huehuetlan, the merchant vessel was now passing through the "relatively" peaceful region of Haven, carrying a shipment of electronics from the factories of Osaka. It was a journey that had been made many times before, increasingly so these days as the Fiefdom attempted to modernise its state-planned economy. But just because it was vital didn't make it any less interesting.

"Boring boring boring," signed Sub-Lieutenant Cuahuitl as he watched the radar screen. After the large war in Haven, today's traffic seemed rather dull. Some random fishing boat, some destroyer from some country he had never heard of. And the Blubs, of course.

Sub-Lieutenant Cuahuitl had never seen a blub before. He had heard tell from other sailors that they were six feet tall and were composed of some manner of jelly. They also, said some, tasted just like yoghurt, though Cuahuitl didn't believe that for a moment. But, whatever they looked like, they had proven themselves in battle enough to make people take them seriously. Or if not seriously, then enough for people not to laugh in their faces. Did they have faces? Probably not.

But Blubs didn't just attack anyone. They were like bumblebees, they only stung when they were really, really pissed off. Or so the Sub-Lieutenant thought.

This is the Interceptor, you will immedietly stop your ship for inspection. You have one minute to comply, or we will disable your vessel.

The voice, loud and clear over the communication system of the elderly merchantman, was unmistakable.

"What the buggering bugger?" exclaimed Cuahuitl, shortly before the ship's captain, one Ebenezer LeBlanc, burst onto the bridge.

"What the buggering bugger," he also exclaimed, "who the hell sent that?"

"Looks like the Blub ship sir," said the radio man from the corner.

"Cuahuitl," roared the Captain, "What the hell are we doing in Blub waters you fool?"

"we're not captain," protested the junior officer, "Both the charts and the radar clearly show this is international waters."

"Then what the hell do they want?"

Over the next few minutes they noticed, both over the radar and also by sight, that the Blub ship seemed to engage the other nearby vessel.

"Well, whatever they wanted, they seem distracted," said the Captain after the Interceptor fired its main guns.

"What should we go sir?" asked another officer.

"Well I for one am not staying to get hit by some stray firework, we're doing the decent thing and running away. All ahead full."

And with that, the elderly SFS Steadfast moved slowly away.

OOC: Want to try to salvage this? DB is somewhat PMT (although it's the kind of PMT where most of the 'inventions' don't work exactly as intended), but if you don't mind me getting involved I promise not to go silly.

OOC: Want to try to salvage this? DB is somewhat PMT (although it's the kind of PMT where most of the 'inventions' don't work exactly as intended), but if you don't mind me getting involved I promise not to go silly.

OOC: Go for it. I'm just waiting for Stoklomolvi to make his next post. If he tones things down and acts reasonably, we'll continue. If he wants to be stupid still, then we'll just say his ship retreats and ignore him, and continue anyway. ^.^

OOC: A "few" more? The Iowa, unless I'm mistaken has 9 main guns in three triple turrets. Yours has 42 in 14 triple turrets. Do you realize how big or wide a ship would have to be to mount 14 triple turrets of guns 14 inches or larger? Anyhow, I want you to make a new post responding to my last in-game post, minus the wank. Otherwise we're just going to ignore your presence and carry on.

OOC: Please, enough of the OOC. Just make a new post if you can.

[OOC: Actually, since this is MT, I'm going to withdraw.]

Meanwhile, the merchant vessel that was the whole point of this thread steams away...

And for the sake of sanity, the inappropriately large ship turneed and began to flee. The trio of Blubland interdictors immedietly changed course and began to power themselves across the waves in the wake of the escaping merchantman.

Interceptor fired yet another warning shot, which sent a plume of water skyward about a kilometer off the merchantman's port stern. Another radio message went out, "Unknown vessel, you will stop now or we will disable your ship!"

"What the devil?" cried LeBlanc, "I thought this madness was over? Tangaxoan?"

"Sir?"

"Give me the radio, I'll put a stop to this tomfoolery..

Blubland Interceptor this is the Serene Fiefdom Ship Steadfast. You have no authority to order our cessation as these are International Waters and we have violated no maritime law, both of Blubland and international convention. Cease and desist your actions upon this sovereign vessel of the Serene Democratic People's Fiefdom of Otiacocoh or face the consequences.

There, I think they got the message."

"Should we continue at full steam Captain?"

"Lord no," replied LeBlanc, "Full reserve Mr Cuahuitl, bring us to a complete stop. I'm not daft enough to risk the lives of everyone on this ship. If they want business then they can have it, but at least we've stated our legality."

Contrary to all logic, news of piracy in the Haven was greeted with a certain degree of glee in Dyelli Beybi. After all it had been Haven ships that had interfered with Dyelli Beybi's own piracy racket. An intervention that had had dramatic effects on Dyellian politics...

The HMS Misguided Tapir plowed through the waves, her deck awash (as usual). Really the ship had never been intended to be sailed at sea, although she was unlikely to sink unless they hit a serious storm. That wasn't the goal though.

It was possibly the most ridiculous, hair brained scheme ever cooked up by the Grand Admiral, Captain Masters considered as he read through the orders for the thousandth time. Undoubtedly a Prefect Class was perfect for what they intended to do. The fun thing about a Prefect was on radar it showed up as something about the size of a fishing boat. Most radars only picked up the turret, completely missing the fact that there wasa a deck at water level. What the Grand Admiral had hoped is the small target would act as bait, then with a top speed of 28.8 knotts and a turret/bridge with twin 320mm cannons, the Pirates could be convinced to have a chat...

This was where things got interesting. Masters was ordered to hand over his ship and leave the Pirates with a rather dubious Cheka agent by the name of Caitlin Davies who had control of a bank account with a very large amount of money in it... This money was available for the purchase of ships, planes and ammunition and generally anything else that might help to further aggravate the situation.

So the Misguided Tapir continued it's journey, sailing around in the general hope that someone would move to attack it.

"What the devil?" cried LeBlanc, "I thought this madness was over? Tangaxoan?"

"Sir?"

"Give me the radio, I'll put a stop to this tomfoolery..



There, I think they got the message."

"Should we continue at full steam Captain?"

"Lord no," replied LeBlanc, "Full reserve Mr Cuahuitl, bring us to a complete stop. I'm not daft enough to risk the lives of everyone on this ship. If they want business then they can have it, but at least we've stated our legality."

Onboard the Interceptor, Commodore Rup squinted furiously at the armor plates over the windows. He rubbed his 'chin' and then shrugged, "Well at least they stopped. Alvin Two, Alvin Three, position yourselves for boarding. We will cover."

And the two Arleigh Burkes pulled alongside. The much-larger Otiacocoh vessel basicly looked down on the Burkes. On the decks, marines could be seen gathering around several points where fire engine style, motorized ladders had been installed. The ladders extended, turned and bumped against the railing of the Otiacocoh merchantman.

In a steady line, Blubs began to climb the ladders. They wore their orange life vests over body armor and carried battle rifles slung across their backs. Seemed the Otiacocoh ship was being boarded.

The HMS Misguided Tapir was now picking up two ships on radar, Masters stood at the centre of the control room. It really ought to have been called the bridge, there was a bridge where the ship was usually navigated from, but when they cleared for battle stations it had to be evacuated for the gun crew, meaning that the ship was now being commanded from a room below the water line.

"Radio base, see if they can upload a sattelite image of the witches." he ordered.

"Aye aye." an officer nodded. The officer uniforms of the Dyellian Royal Navy had been in a constant state of flux, changing from the old Reuplican Uniform to one set by the Grand Admiral, and now to a much more suitable one imposed by a Parliamentary select committee.

While not on parade it now featured black boots, navy blue pants, a white shirt and peaked cap with a black hat band (for officers and warrant officers), while Ratings had a cap without the peak.

"Getting an image in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1..." the control room featured a large LCD screen against the front wall. It now sprung to life, giving a slightly grainy sattelite feed of what was going on on the Steadfast. As they watched the image zoomed in, sharpened, marred only by the occasional flicker of static.

"O.K." Masters had folded his hands, unlike the other officer he also wore a navy blue tie with his uniform. It was optional, but he felt it helped to make him stand out.

"Full tilt." he ordered, "Cut the sattelite feed and maintain radio silence, we don't want them figuring out this is military and scarpering back to harbour before we can offload our cargo. E.T.A?"

"Just under 2 hours Sir, provided they stay still, which they probably won't. We are currently 50 nautical miles out. Guns come into range in 53 minutes and 30 seconds Sir."

"You gut us a fish?" the sudden female voice made Masters just about jump out of the water.

"If by fish you mean pirate and not torpedo Commisaar... then yes." he turned, Caitlin Davies, unlike the crew wore a field grey uniform with blue piping. It was a uniform that carried more than a little fear in Dyelli Beybi. People like her made people dissappear.

She smiled vaguely, deep dark eyes in a pretty, girlish face. Looking at her you got the impression that far from being emotionally detached, she was very involved in what she did, and took a deep satisfaction from inflicting suffering on others, "Do try not to kill anyone Captain."

"Yes Commisaar." he nodded a little too curtly, "I will follow my orders from the Admiralty to the letter."

"How fortunate they coincide with my own then." a glitter in her eyes implied she would have enjoyed te challenge of bringing Masters around, along with a bold confidence that she would have succeeded.

Unlike in the Republic, the Cheka were no longer a law unto themselves. It gave Masters a certain leeway with the Commisaar that he would not have always had, "53 minutes Commisaar, then you can try to have a chat with your 'fish'"

Onboard the Interceptor, Commodore Rup squinted furiously at the armor plates over the windows. He rubbed his 'chin' and then shrugged, "Well at least they stopped. Alvin Two, Alvin Three, position yourselves for boarding. We will cover."

And the two Arleigh Burkes pulled alongside. The much-larger Otiacocoh vessel basicly looked down on the Burkes. On the decks, marines could be seen gathering around several points where fire engine style, motorized ladders had been installed. The ladders extended, turned and bumped against the railing of the Otiacocoh merchantman.

In a steady line, Blubs began to climb the ladders. They wore their orange life vests over body armor and carried battle rifles slung across their backs. Seemed the Otiacocoh ship was being boarded.

"They're coming aboard Cap'n!" cried a midshipman as the Blub vessels began to surround the good ship Steadfast.

"This doesn't look good," said LeBlanc, stating the blindingly obvious, "Cuahuitl?"

"Sir?"

"Radio Port Sunlight, tell them that unknown Blub vessels have stopped us in Haven waters. Then, on all frequencies, open the mike and keep it open. At least if they try anything funny then the rest of Haven will hear it. Unless they block it. But use ALL frequencies, the emergency ones, even the ones for the shipping reports. If it can be swamped by us then do it."

"Aye Sir."

Outside, the boarding ladders of the Blubs clanked against the railings of the merchantman, chipping off the remains of the white paint. On the ship's bridge, LeBLanc motioned for to his second-in-command to join him by the charts.

"Commander Tangaxoan, you don't need me to tell you that this all looks exceedingly odd. Take some of the men down to the intersection between cargo holds 2 and 3. It's a narrow section and from there you can at least seal the doors to both, if it is access to our cargo that this swine ultimately desire. And there, if necessary, is a bottleneck. A few men could, should the events unfold in such a manner, hold off a much larger force. At least until help arrives.

What I ask is, in the circumstances, is potentially exceedingly dangerous. You may, if you wish, decline."

"Like the ship, Captain, I am steadfast."

"Then godspeed, and good luck."

As the Commander made his way into depths of the vessel, steeling himself should the worse come to pass, the bridge was a hive of activity as vital systems were locked-down and franatic radio messages sent to fleet headquarters in far off Otiacicioh.

"Well, if they are so eager to join us here in happy communion," said LeBlanc, then it is only fitting that we should go and meet them." With that the Captain, hastily dressed in as much finery as the dress uniform of a communist nation could allow, made his way over to the nearest Blub landing party.

"I am Jacob LeBlanc, Captain of this vessel," he said, more out of a sense of dramatics than anything else, "If you have any permit for such actions then you are to present them now. Otherwise you are to leave this sovereign vessel of the Serene Democratic People's Fiefdom."

Meanwhile, weighed down by a cup of cold coffee, the radio mike stayed on...

The Interceptor continued to circle, orbiting at about two hundred meters as it watched over the boarding action. Blub marines continued to scramble up the ladders, the multiple tentacles helping to ensure that none of them would slip and fall off.

Onboard
The leader of the boarding party was a young, blubbish Lieutenant. On the front of his helmet were two silver bars, denoting the rank. He narrowed his eyestalks as the person came out to address them, and then growled out a reply in English, "We want a complete listing of your cargo. If you comply and don't resist, no one will be hurt. We'll leave your vessel with enough fuel to get home."

And to help make his point clear, the muzzle of his DR-83ML (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12594458&postcount=8) swung into line with the man's chest. Notably, the rifles were equipped with foot long bayonettes.

Meanwhile
At a signal from BCN Blubnought, Taskforce Betty was beginning to move into the area. It consisted of several more old Arleigh Burkes escorting a half dozen medium sized cargo ships equipped with deck-mounted cranes and work equipment.

Onboard
The leader of the boarding party was a young, blubbish Lieutenant. On the front of his helmet were two silver bars, denoting the rank. He narrowed his eyestalks as the person came out to address them, and then growled out a reply in English, "We want a complete listing of your cargo. If you comply and don't resist, no one will be hurt. We'll leave your vessel with enough fuel to get home."

And to help make his point clear, the muzzle of his DR-83ML (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12594458&postcount=8) swung into line with the man's chest. Notably, the rifles were equipped with foot long bayonettes.


The Merchantman's Captain, whose years in the service of the Fiefdom had prepared him (internally at least) for such an encounter, could not help but regard the small, tentacled creature before with a degree of shock. Shock, and disappointment. He thought blubs would be taller.

Extending his arm quickly, LeBlanc grapped the top of the bayonet with a degree of tenderness in order not to cut himself, and pushed it to one side with all the force such an action could achieve.

"You keep your weapons to yourself, you damned dirty blub," he said, "You have no authority to request the cargo manifesto of this ship. Where are you papers? Where is your gold charter, signed by the Chief Blub or whatever you have as a government? You have no right, not a single bloody one, to demand anything on this ship. I don't know if you Blubs have a different way of doing things, but we humans do not, by and large, board an unarmed vessel and start making demands.

If you want to know what we're carrying, go and bloody look yourself. But that cargo, and this ship, is the property of the Fiefdom. So unless you want a major incident or anything, bugger off."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch

The central control room of the Otiacichon Navy was not a particularly interesting place. The Fiefdom large navy had been involved in a major conflict for decades and, though it plotted on large screens the locations of various squadrons, it was by-and-large routine patrols in routine areas. Which was why an alert signal was, for once, something interesting.

The situation on the Steadfast did not seem, however, something of great importance. The mention of 'Blubs' did, though, cause some consternation.

"Didn't they defeat Hataria?" asked one officer to another.

"Well, yes and no. Yes, it the sense that they did cause a great deal of difficulties, and no because I hear that whole situation was retconned. I don't think we should even be talking about this."

"I see. How confusing."

Hamptonian Sea

SFS Fury was, unlike the elderly merchantman floundering under the Blubs, a relatively modern ship. She was, perhaps, not as large or advanced as the vessels of the great powers, especially here in war-torn Have, but she a step in the right direction, at least.

She had a displacement of around 24,300 tons and had impressive range of conventional cruise missles, ship-to-ship missiles and, of course, a couple of large guns along her 252m length. And, as luck might have, her course was the reserve of the Steadfast's, taking her west to the Pacific coast of Russia.

"Commander Centehua, we're getting a strange transmission from the Steadfast."

Centehua stood among the bright LCD screens and beeping computers of a modern warship. She was, rather unusually, a woman in a man's world. A man's world that, after fifty of declaring that the socialist revolution had freed all, still considered granting responsibility to the fairer sex as somewhat strange.

Turning to the radio operator, her dark brown eyes began to pierce him intently, a characteristic that freaked out most of the officers and crew of the Fury.

"Steadfast, what is she?" she asked, her tones clipped and short.

"An old merchantman, a Liberty class on her way back from Japan. We had a distress message on secure frequencies, and now there's just a band of static on all frequencies from her."

"Did she say what the situation was?"

"No, something about being stopped by Blubs."

Centehua regarded the officer for what seemed like an eternity, though could not have been more than a few seconds, before returning her unsettling gaze back to the sea.

"If the Steadfast has violated some Blub custom law that is hardly a concern of ours. Officers on those old tugs have dull and uneventful lives, so when something does happen they think that the sky is falling down. Ignore them."

"Should I monitor their signals Commander?"

Turning her head, Centehua began to bore into the radio operator's soul for a few more moments, before audiably sighing.

"If you must."

Onboard
The little 'alien' squinted its eyestalks as the man pushed his bayonette aside. He resisted the first urge, tentacles tensing up as if to thrust the blade at an upward angle into the fellow's chest cavity. Rather he stepped back slightly, then jabbed the weapon in the air infront of the man's face. "I said give us the manifest! This isn't a game! Which is worth more to you? You and your men, or the cargo? Give us what we want so we don't have to hurt you." Glower.

Offboard

Two more old, rust-spotted Arleigh Burkes had stopped about a kilometer away. The cargo ships were still approaching however, but maintaining a safe distance for the time being until the 'enemy' ship is secured. This piracy thing was turning out to be much harder and more complicated than the Blubs had anticipated.

The Dyellians had had their 53 minutes...

"We're at maximum range Sir." a radar opperator reported.

"Maitain radio silence. We want to get within visual range if we can. Full flank, if we get anyone trying to radio us... I assume you can act Commisaar?"

"Of course." the Commisaar gave a sly smile, "What exactly do you have in mind Captain?"

"I'm thinking drunk squid fishing crew?" Masters supplied.

"A wise choice, we'll fool the pakrahs."