NationStates Jolt Archive


South Storm Rising. (Closed, Attention CP, Gran, #d members)

Northford
27-12-2007, 01:20
Part One - Brief

Sighing, Brookes closed his eyes. Four years had passed since the Haven War, and with it, his health. During his self-chosen captivity with the Cravanians, many things had happened to Brookes. For starters, he had realised that patriotism and love of ones country transcends any loyalty to government or people. It was his love of Northford, for example, that led him to surrender the co-ordinates of the government bunker where ‘Admiral’ Tricker was hiding during war, allowing them to make a surgical strike upon the Northfordian Government infrastructure that took Northford, and Tricker, effectively out of the war. It was his love of Northford, its culture, beliefs and values that effectively allowed him monopolise control of the country in the immediate aftermath of the war, bringing those who had committed atrocities against the Cravanians to justice while also commending those who had waged war effectively against the Allaneans, the Skyians and the Kahanistanies.

Having such control, such a monopoly over power, was, in any case, detrimental to the already failing health of Brookes. After his third heart attack since his return it was decided to give him a heart-lung transplant, and with the gross shortage of organ donors post-war the only available option was the cloning of his own organs using stem cells. The procedure failed: the surgeons, having removed his first heart and implanted the second, failed to find the correct enzyme complex to initiate the self-exciting cardiac tissue. Faced with a man that had a new heart that failed to beat, they went to the ‘last resort’ of rigging his aorta, pulmonary artery and vein to a mechanic pump. Realising that due to his age and amount of scar tissue produced by the previous operation would make any future operation fatal, the Northfordian Doctors decided to make the best of the situation. They consulted with the best medical teams in the rest of the Questarian Commonwealth, as well as the doctor who performed the original triple bypass in the Cravanians Home Countries and after several weeks of planning performed one final operation. The end result was a ‘body pack’ that was bolted to Brookes frame that contained the pump, a sensor system (providing the electrical equivalent of chemo-receptors) as well as a battery pack. The final ‘kit’ cost was over 60 million Northfordian Pounds, paid for by members of the armed forces who nominated to forgo a months wage packet to help pay the operation.

During the weeks of consultation, it would be grossly insulting to assume that Alan Brookes just sat in a hospital bed feeling ill. Instead, like all great statesmen, he was busy working. Repairing relations with the Cravanians, rewriting the Northfordian Constitution and settling ‘differences’ with the increasingly authoritarian Questarian Commonwealth were all amongst his first priorities, with other issues, such as the Slave Trade, strengthening Franberry-Northford bilateral ties and handling the ‘New Neighbours’ (The Central Prestonians) further down the list of priorities.

The first two issues, the Questarian Commonwealth and the Cravanians were, ironically, the easiest to handle. The Cravanians were eager to see those who had committed atrocities against them brought to justice, and after the completion of the “Joint Justice Commission” (JJC), happily normalised relations. The Questarians on the other hand were more than cordial with the various grievances the Northfordians had with them. At the Fifteenth Commonwealth Conference a number of things were agreed, giving both parties a far more beneficial relationship. On the Northfordian side, they managed to wangle themselves out of the 5% yearly tribute, as well as being recognised that by their adoption of Questarian Road Signs, Postal Codes, acceptance of Questarian educational certificates within the Northfordian school system (albeit with a handicap) and air traffic control system they were placed uniquely within the Commonwealth for their level of integration. On the Questarian side, the Questarian Government gained a share of the seats in the Legislative house: on future national elections there would be a two questions dedicated to the Questarian Commonwealth: a) “Do you support Northfordian Membership of the Questarian Commonwealth?”, and b) “Do you support a high level of integration with the Crown Imperum of Questers?”. The first question was a simple referendum, with a two thirds majority required before the Northford withdrew from the Commonwealth. The second question was a rather more complicated issue. Depending on the amount of support for further integration, as well as the size of the majority of the largest party in Government a number of seats would be allocated to persons nominated by the Questarian Government.

(At the recent post-war elections, 89% of the population supported Northfordian membership, with 13% favouring further integration.)

They would be valid for one term, upon which they would return into the pool of seats available at a general election. Allocating the seats this way gave the Questarian members of parliament two roles: During times of ‘strong’ Government, they would be expected to represent the interests of their randomly assigned constituents with a level of impartiality unknown in Northfordian Politics, while also tabling bills and supporting motions that strengthened the Questarian Commonwealth. During times of slim or non existent majorities, however, the role of the Questarian members of parliament switches to that of ‘King maker’. Northford, lacking an elected head of state since 1546 (when the last elected ‘head’ was not replaced upon retirement) runs the risk of parliamentary turmoil if there is no clear cut majority. Indeed, the two civil wars Northford experienced (in 1687 and 1690) were caused by governments without clear majorities attempting to push through a government. It had long been realised that as members of the Questarian Commonwealth the role of kingmaker would be, in fact, the Questarian King, however owing to both the republican sentiment and the post-war desire to clarify large parts of the Northfordian Constitution this process has become formalised.

Speaking of Kings, the Northfordian distaste for inherited power has even been waning in recent years. Originally presented to the Northfordian people and Government as the “Supreme Representative of the Questarian Peoples”, he was originally greeted with contempt for the power he was born into without effort. Owing to his leadership of the Questarians during the war, and his efforts to reconcile different parts of the Commonwealth in the immediate aftermath, however, his support has increased to a previously unimaginable level. On a recent visit week long visit there was much flag waving, with his audience in Redbridge Square drawing crowds of over 300 000. This new fondness of the Questarian King continued into the Armed Forces of both Northford, with a new Ranger regiment being titled “The Kings Free Guardians” as well as a frigate in the Northfordian Navy being christened the “King’s Free Escort”.

With the Questarians and Cravanians, Northford’s two most important Bi-lateral relations, sorted, Brookes then had to address the second tier of issues. These were namely the state of the armed forces, the slave trade, and Northford’s “Backyard” - Central Prestonia, The Franberrian Colony of Laforia, Granate, and the Cohenian-tied country of Rosbaningrad.

It is these issues, however, that are the most interesting…

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In the distance, two bodies approached, approximately 30 meters shrouded in fog. Camouflaged, one of them hit the ground, rolling along the path and dropping into a trench. Beckoning the other man forward, he flicked the safety off of his rifle and activated the thermal sight. Scanning the distance he waited.

A flash of light over the horizon, penetrating the darkness. Sending shrapnel everywhere, the second man hit the ground, his back plate peppered with sharpened pieces of plastic. They both froze, dripping with sweat, acutely aware of their…

“FAILURE” was the booming voice that permeated the air around them, emanating from a loudspeaker mounted on a nearby tree, “IN A REAL WAR, THE ENEMY WILL NOT BE USING ANTIPERSONELL MINES WITH FOUR FITHS EXPLOSIVE AND ULTRAFINE SHRAPNELS. ATTENTION RANGERS!”

Floodlights. Glancing up, the two men winced as their iris’s struggled to contract their pupils. Shit… muttered the shorter of the two men as he was helped to his feet.

“Any of ‘em get through Fowler?” asked the taller of the two, angling the shorter mans shoulders to ensure he hadn’t broke anything.

“Not as far as I know” muttered the shorter man, Fowler, as he rubbed his leg “Good Job I was wearing those swanky titanium knee pads though, fell right onto a nail.”
“Ouch.” said the taller, as he adjusted his own body armour, sliding out the thicker ceramic plates, “How’d the plate hold up?”

“Not sure” replied fowler, wiping his hand down his back to remove the shards of plastic lodged in the plate, “Bastard thing went off right on behind me though… must have been a timed fuse. Knocked me straight on my back… bruised a couple of ribs to buggery though.”

In the distance a noise approached. Growling, mechanical in nature, it got louder and louder until a shape appeared on the Horizon. Rectangular and Boxlike it was moving towards them, along the dirt path that wound through the forest.

“Pickup?” Fowler asked his team mate as he glanced towards the approaching vehicle

Taking a moment to look himself, the taller of the two replied. “Looks like it, doesn’t it? Not awful sure from here, but think I think it’s one of those new Trucks”

Sure enough, as it approached, the moving vehicle did indeed reveal itself to be a ‘New Truck’. The [Name] to be precise, a joint project between [Cat’s new nation] and the Commonwealth of Northford. Northford provided the “Vision”, while [CNN] provided the design, with both countries engineering firms working closely together ‘post design’ to design and construct ‘modules’ that would convert the humble truck into everything from ‘Drag and Drop’ Mobile ambulance to a quick set up SAM station. While it was a truck, it was not an armoured utility vehicle and in no way designed to be a firing platform, engineers had devised several ingenious ways to mount gun packages within a Northfordian shipping containers that could be rapidly ‘dropped’ from their mountings and fired, sometimes within as little as 4 minutes.

At this moment in time, however, the [truck] was configured rather more conventionally. Several metal rails were affixed to the shipping container mount, and over this was a stretched frame of canvas: a Troop Transport. There were seats, bunk beds, and most importantly a boiler for hot drinks. The [truck] was fixed in a low gear, with softened suspension giving altogether a rather smooth ride.

About 100 yards away, the loudspeakers started again…

“MEN, WHILE NORTHFORD HAS FOREST COVER AMOUNTING TO A FRACTION OF A PERCENT, TEMPERATE FOREST SURROUNDS SOME OF NORTHFORDS MOST IMPORTANT CITIES. FAILURE HERE WOULD BE LETHAL. DISARM AND PREPRARE FOR A DEBRIEF…”

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In post-war Northford the army operates rather differently. Previously, it was designed around large mechanised formations, spearheaded by armoured columns and supported by fixed wing assets. The previous goal was to force a definite battle on land with the enemy, then to use air power and infantry to either destroy the enemy in its entirety or to hold any captured land. Traditionally, the main use for infantry was in urban combat and manning artillery stations, with roles such as IVF dismounts taking a secondary priority.

All this changed, however, after the war. After a lengthy investigation into the effectiveness of the army it was realised that with Northford’s geography it was much better suited to a mobile, motorized infantry. Armoured and Mechanised units would still be retained, but rather than as standalone divisions they would be incorporated into the now-infantry heavy force at a battalion level. In numbers, this translated roughly to a 300% increase in infantry capability, with a marginal 4% decrease in armoured warfare capability.

This changeover was accompanied by a significant increase in the amount of technology employed by the Northfordian Army. Previously, the Commonwealth had an average outlay of £70 000 in training for a rifleman, with the cost of the kit adding an extra £10 000, with an aim to essentially provide him with the “Best he needs, the least he wants, at the most reasonable cost.”. Realising, especially after dealing with the ‘rag-tag’ Azahan’s that were based in Northford, that sometimes the best is ‘best’, the training and kit of a person in the Northfordian Army was reviewed. In short, the fruit of this review was the Rangerman Doctrine: Training requirements went up for recruits, with them Maths, Science, History and Ethics all being brought to ‘A Level’ standard within 5 years of enlistment. Officer training was led to a degree, usually in an Engineering discipline, while physically upping the bar, forcing the standard recruits to have a fitness previously required of Marines only a year previously.

Kit wise, the overview was somewhat more subtle in nature. The main rifle, the Sapanian Arms designed CR20 was upgraded to the CR20A2, providing the rifleman with a much studier, versatile weapon. Camouflage and Battle dress was exclusively redesigned from Questarian Battle Dress and Camouflage into the ‘Improved Commonwealth Composite” - a design that was freely available to members of the Commonwealth. For Armour, the Northfordian Rifleman was provided with a hefty upgrade from the previous ‘Interceptor’ type plate, to a ‘Dragonskin’ style armour, which was lighter, and provided much better ballistic protection over key areas while also giving improved shrapnel and blunt trauma protection with the addition of a Shear Thickening Fluid and Ferro fluids.

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An important question that must be asked when raising or training an army is that of purpose. What is it for? Is it designed maintain the territorial integrity of a nation? Put down insurrection? Defeat enemies? Power Projection, maybe?

In the post-war Northford, assessing the outside world was placed at a primacy. The ‘New Neighbours’ were Granate and Central Prestonia were in the mix, as were relations with the Franberrian Colony of Laforia and the Federal Sultanate of Rosbaningrad. In working out relations with these four ‘new’ nations, Northfordian Diplomats split them into two groups: Those which the Commonwealth had pre-existing relations, and those which it didn’t. Of the first group, relations with the Franberrian Colony of Laforia were instantly warm and cordial: Northford had traditionally had a good relation with the Franberrians, and during the Haven War Franberry aided Northford with the economic restructuring by taking up the shortfall in Northfordian-built consumer goods.

The presence of Laforia, like the presence of Franberry, was also a very mutually beneficial relationship, post-war. Laforia, being significantly closer to Northford cut costs by 10% in terms of shipping, and in any event, were very ‘Northford-friendly’ in relation to their adoption of Northfordian manufacturing processes in their factories. From the Laforian side, the Northfordian presence also gave benefits. Reliable work, a known, fixed and guaranteed percentage of the Laforian GDP. By Northford’s policy of mandatory escort ships on container fleets going to and from Northford, the Northfordian frigates and destroyers that were often on shore leave contributed to the local Laforian Economy, and, of course, provided an element of the Laforian national defence. There was no ‘Military Alliance’ of sorts with Franberry, rather a friendly understanding when it came to military matters. Unofficially, in allowing ships of the Northfordian Navy to dock in Laforian ports the Northfordian Captains agreed to protect the Laforians should the Granate ever invade.

Paranoia, it is often said, is both a catalyst for change and a fuel for a fire. It is both the Log and the Matchstick. In dealing with the countries of Granate and Central Prestonia, it seems, the, the Matchstick house that was international diplomacy often came very close to the flint paper.

Both nations, on the surface, appeared natural allies to Northford. Central Prestonia was friendly with Praetonia and Willink, which by extension meant Questers and Northford, while Granate was on good terms with most national governments of note and had done nothing to anger Northford. One important aspect of any relationship is trade, and with Central Prestonia and Granate this was sorely lacking. Northford is -and since leaving isolation- has always been, a nation of trade. The Government of Northford takes trade seriously, and cultivates a navy for the sole purpose of protecting it. With trade between two nations comes the meeting of cultures and peoples. Intermarriage, friendship, the exchange of commodities with mutual value to both side are the hallmarks of a trading relationship, and with that, comes friendship and, eventually, an alliance. The economic benefits of trade are not simply limited to the commodity being sold. There are, of course, latent economic benefits to both nations, with everything from the money the physical presence of an escort ship in port brings, to the contribution to GDP provided by giving employment to the secretary, or all call centre clerk that handles relations between the two countries.

Lacking trade, the Commonwealth of Northford viewed the Prestonians with suspicion. Likewise with Granate, though the matter was rather different there. With Granate, Northford were… unwary… of the nation, and through the encouragement of the Laforians this was cultivated into dislike. Central Prestonia, a democracy that shared a land boarder, was slightly different.

The Northfordians were friendly with Praetonia, the Prestonians protector and natural allies. Indeed, for a considerable period of Northfordian history the Praetonians were preferred over the Questarians. It was a logical conclusion, therefore, that Northford would be a natural ally of the Prestonians too.

That stated, things in life often don’t go to plan. Despite sharing a narrow land boarder, as well as sharing an inland sea, there was little day-to-day dialogue between the two countries. There was no fly over rights for Northfordian passenger jets, no joint railway, and, as far as the Northfordian government was aware, no official joint procedure on immigration. In fact, in reality, immigration into Northford from Prestonia was handled on a case-by-case basis, with the Northfordian foreign ministry sorting through applications. Another issue of contention was the lack of a common vision of the inland body of water the Northfordians and Prestonians shared. The -as it was known in Northford- Inland Sea was home to a number of Northfordian industries, including large desalination plants that pumped water from the ocean to purification, fishing wharves, as well as the associated brine industries. There was a common belief amongst North Northfordians that the Prestonians were responsible for their bad hoards, and, particularly, a recent outbreak of Laoshi lice amongst Northfordian Salmon Stocks.

A happy relationship?

As is often said, “Something must exist before the adjective can describe it.”

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Part Two - Back to Brookes

Thursday afternoons. As a member of the Northfordian parliament, one either grew to love them beyond belief or detest them in proportions unimaginable. “Questions Time”, as it was commonly known, was a chance for the Northfordian opposition to grill the Government on any issue it so wished. Post war, and, most importantly, post-Tricker, the weekly questions time had taken on a newer, ‘objective-based’ flavour.

In the simplest language, having dealt with a psychotic dictator, they grew up. Out went the petty, bipartisan politics, and in went the new, direct, straight questions and answers. Today was no different.

Across the vast caverns that was the Northfordian Parliament, silence rang out. A microphone lowered down into position against one of the speakers, and his voice rang out across the room.

“Hamish Lions” , said the man, in a surprisingly soft voice, “MP for Chertsey with a question to the Government regarding the security situation in Northern Northford.”

“Do go on” urged the speaker from somewhere in the eaves of the building.

“As you all know gentleman, in Northern Northford we are presently faced with a rather precarious situation, our primary agricultural industry, fish farming has been at plagued by bout after bout of infection diseases. Thus far, Government response has been weak, and upon the encouragement of my constituents I took it upon myself to contact the Praetonian embassy, to try and get some sort of unofficial clarification on the situation.”

The Member of parliament stopped for a second to adjust his notes, move his tie and smile slightly.

“Well, to the house, I have this letter from the Praetonians. I trust my honourable gentlemen will find it as enlightening to read as I did…

Good Day Sir.

Thank you for your enquiry. While we here at the Praetonian Embassy in Redbridge understand your concern regarding your fisheries I’m afraid there is little we can do to clarify, and even less we can do to help. As of…a little while ago… the Democratic Imperum of Central Prestonia left the Royal Georgian League, were you not aware? In any case, control of inland water ways was never under Praetonian advise or control. While we here at the Praetonian Embassy are always happy to assist members of the Northfordian parliament regarding Northford-Praetonian affairs, in this instance we will can only direct you to the Prestonians, who, by all accounts, should be far more accountable.

For further details of areas in which the Praetonian Embassy are able to advise, please look at our website. There are also details of the remaining Praetonian naval bases of Prestonian soil, as well as embassy regions of extraterritoriality.

Regards,

Dame Joan Adams,

Praetonian Embassy”

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It is often said news travels like wildfire, spreading rapidly before it can be stopped. Occasionally however, that saying turns out to be complete and utter bullshit. The Government of Northford missing the fact the Central Prestonians withdrew from the Royal Georgian League was indeed one such time.

Sometimes a blunder in government results in resignations, while in others, they result in the dismissal of a cabinet and a new election. Given the nature of this blunder, and the fact that it involved Central Prestonia losing the support of a country that could only be regarded as its ‘protector’ meant that rather the end result was that of the adoption of a policy of ‘piss take’.

In a cabinet meeting later that day…

“Two issues chaps” was the opening line as they sat down lining the table. “Two issues. Granate and Central Prestonia. I’m not going to get into the finer details just yet, but the fact we were humiliated today in parliament speaks enough.”

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The man talking was Shane Pember, the new Foreign Minister. As a replacement for Tricker, and technically second in line for control of Northford should the prime minister be incapacitated, thus there was a lot of media interest in him. Regarded as ‘out of the mould’ with respect to the previous foreign minister, he was also a retired naval officer. However, whereas Tricker was naval in the sense he was a ship captain who alternated politics and his position Northfordian Navy to achieve his aims, Pember was a far softer creature. Originally getting his commission in the Northfordian Navy during the time of the GASN Escort Force, he quickly rose up the ranks to become a Squadron Commander of a Corvette group. After this he was assigned to shore duties at a the Cravanian Country of Sapin under the GASN flag, until he was finally appointed Northfordian Naval attaché to the Cravanian Naval base at the major port city of Gracemeria. It wasn’t a port the Northfordian Navy operated out of, but nevertheless he was there to act as a go between, advising GASN planners the capabilities of the Northfordian Navy, who were, at that time, the 3rd biggest contributors to the escort force.

After the GASN Escort force faded Pember retired his commission from the navy and moved to Cravan for several years where he worked as an independent security analyst, eventually relocating to the Cravanian Overseas Territory of Carpanthium with his Cravanian wife and kids. Here he entered semi-retirement, working part time as a local councillor for a ward in Cravan and a guest speaker at defence conferences, often speaking of the widening gulf between Northfordian and Cravanian interests in the increasingly polar world of NATO and the Q.C. During this time his Northfordian citizenship elapsed for the first time, when he chose not to renew his Northfordian Passport, instead attempting to secure Cravanian citizenship for his children.

As the war grew nearer, Pember was summed back to Northford, with an offer of command of a Destroyer, as well as the citizen status of ‘Commonwealth Subject’- thereby securing him residence in any Commonwealth country. Doing what he thought was best, he resumed his status as a Northfordian citizen, rejecting the title and the command, instead preparing his homestead in Carpanthium for civil defence in the event of an invasion.

When war did occur, he was rounded up by the Cravanian authorities, and along with his wife and kids, placed in the Imperial Suites Hotel in Millingston. As is well remembered by history, that hotel was infamously the site of a ‘Blue on Blue’ attack by Northfordian guided missiles. Pember survived, however he lost one child, and his wife was severely wounded, losing a leg and a kidney to falling debris as shrapnel.

Immediately after this, Carpanthium authorities became aware rapid deterioration of the health of Alan Brookes, the Prime Minister of Northford, who was at that time in the Craven Home Countries attempting in vain to secure peace between the two countries. Seizing the initiative, he, along with several other notable citizens in Cravanian ‘captivity’ was smuggled out the Carpantium territory and back to the Cravanian home countries, to advise the Cravanian government on handle the increasingly psychotic Admiral Tricker and install Tricker back in control of Northford after the war was over.

In advising the Cravanian government, Pember was indispensable. From his work with the GASN, he had an excellent working relation with several members of the Cravanian establishment, and unlike some of the smuggled citizens, he was, politically, a ‘known’ quantity. Also, almost uniquely, he also had first hand knowledge of Tricker, having worked with him in the Navy.

In removing Tricker, Pembers input was vital, crucially advising the Cravanian government against launching a spec-ops mission in favour a surgical strike against the whole compound. To coin a phrase Pember used at the time “If you give him an opportunity to take others down with him, he’ll do just that.”, alluding to the likelihood that if they were compromised Tricker was likely to strike Craven with strategic weapons.

After Tricker was removed, Pember again proved vital. The Navy was the largest branch of the armed forces, and by all accounts the most dangerous if unmanaged owing to the range and relative potency of their weapons. By having an ex-naval captain installed in the new government, it allowed them to ‘reign in’ a series of potential mutinies on smaller DD’s that were fanatically loyal to Tricker.

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“Pember”, asked Brookes, his quiet voice silencing the mutters in the room, “without going into the why, enlighten us as to what you know.”

Pember spoke quickly, getting out what was in his head into the room as quickly and efficiently as possible, “Well, when the lid blew I made a series of enquiries with my opposite numbers in the region. I’ve spoken to my opposite numbers in Cravan, Franberry, Praetonia and Rosbaningrad, and they’ve not painted a pretty picture. I’ve not got concrete facts, but the Franberrians and Rosbanis have both reported recently that their merchant shipping has been attacked by mines. On top of that, there have been a spate of suspicious deaths near the Granatian embassy in Cravan, which the Cravanians haven’t quite been able to pinpoint.”

“Anything else?” asked Brookes, quickly writing notes.

“Nothing concrete.” replied Pember, “but then again, most of this is fairly subjective. My opposite number in Laforia seems absolutely petrified by the Granatians… he claimed -and I’ve checked this out- that the Granatians actually claim Laforia as part of their country. The Rosbani government also told me that they were fairly sure the Prestonian Government were behind a recent coup attempt. There’s also the issue of the Central Prestonia’s membership of UFAN, which is hardly a positive aspect.”

“Membership of a defensive alliance is hardly…” interjected Kenneth Loans, the new Transport Secretary

“….Tricker, please continue.” said Brookes, refocusing the attention of the room. “What’s been the response from the Questarians and Cravanians?”

“Well, I’ve spoke to the Questarians” started Pember, “and their attitude was something along the lines of ‘Your Backyard, deal with it’.”

Several polite scoffs filled the room.

“The Cravanians on the other hand have been rather more helpful. I had a long chat with my opposite number who basically informed me that if there was… I use his phrase… ‘something happening’ with Central Prestonia and Granate, he wouldn’t be surprised. He informed me of several instances with rouge fishermen in Jeunese waters, along with a report that the Alacean navy fought a pitched battle with a taskforce of well armed pirates. Unfortunately, the pirates scuttled the CIWS armed merchant ship they had adapted as an ad-hoc carrier, completely destroying any military hardware, so there’s no hard evidence. That said, as my Cravanian counterpart reminded me, with the Questarians controlling the North and South entrance, that only leaves the East entrance into the region. Of course we’ve got the East watched by Satellites, and expectedly they revealed nothing when we looked over the footage.

That means the raiders must have originated somewhere within Continentia.”

A moment of silence passed, before a junior minister asked a question.

“If this hits the press, there’s going to be questions. How prepared are we?”

The Minister for Defence, Carl Rhodes cleared his throat.

“The simple answer?” he said, drawing glances. “Not very”

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“ Great ”

The meeting was adjourned, with the junior members of the cabinet leaving the room. Tricker, Pember and the Rhodes remained, as did the new Chancellor, a young man called Phil Blair. As was the practise in cabinet meetings, after the main meeting, the relevant ministers who were required to deal with the days issues would wait behind for a further meeting, while those who were unneeded would return to their respective tasks.

“How’d the cards fall Gentleman?” asked Brookes, slowly sipping a glass of cooled Zukariaan spring water, shipped in exclusively from Northford directly from the small village of Nordum in Northern Zukaria.

“Not nicely” said the Pember

“The fact we’ve missed all this on our doorstep really doesn’t bode well. Militarily, we’re not prepared for whatever they might be planning.”

“The question is whether they’re going for us next” asked Brookes, resting his glass down on the table, “for all we know they might be leaving us well alone, or planning to blockade us next weekend.”

“Fact is, we’re one of the few countries that offers military escort on all of our cargo vessels. We’ve been running it since the CA days, and it’s one of the reasons there’s so many ships registered under our flags. This might be warding them off, although it’s almost as likely we’re the real target, once they have had some practise on softer targets.” pointed out Rhodes.

“Hmmm” was Brookes only response, as he picked up the telephone on his desk.

“Koslin?” Asked Pember, remembering the name from his GASN days.

“No”, Brookes said, hitting a hotkey, “this is above him, and, in any event, with my illness and such, I owe it to talk straight to Anagrams for fixing me after up my health got the better of me. A moment, men?”

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The telephone in the main lobby of the Offices of the Directorate at 1 Imperial Square began to ring its shrill cry, the "priority encrypted line" light blinking. The secretary, knowing that this call probably surpassed her own security clearance, immediately forwarded it to the Office of the Primary Director. Elizabeth lifted the receiver the moment her phone began to rang.

"Good morning, Primary Director Anagrams speaking."

“Alan Brookes here. ” said Brookes into the mouthpiece, half smiling. “I trust you’re in good health?”

"Hello, Mr. Brooks. Pleasure to speak with you again. I'm keeping well, how've you been? I trust you've not been having as serious problems as the last time I'd seen you?" , she said as her face brightened up, her lips contorting into a smile.

“Considerably better…the new kit holding up pretty good considering ” Brookes said rubbing the little plastic box under his chest. If there was one thing he liked about Cravan is that things were far more sincere. With Questers, such questions were a matter of diplomatic courtesy, but he always had the feeling things were different here. “I’m afraid I’m not calling you on a purely personal matter however… I’d have gone through your secretary if that was the case”

"Oh? What seems to be the situation, Mr. Brookes?", Elizabeth inquired while leaning back in her chair, her attitude taking on an air of professionalism as the two world leaders began their discussion.

“It’s more situations Ma’am.” started Brookes, “We’ve been doing some investigating, and my government is seriously concerned about an increasingly fragile security situation in Continentia. Battles with Pirates, mining shipping lanes, not to mention that spate of deaths near the Granatian Embassy in Sapin.

"Yes, I was informed about those deaths near the consulate in Sapin... However what's this about pirates? Imperial shipping hasn't encountered any pirates in Continentian waters, at least as far as I have been informed. You're saying there's pirate operations down south?"

“Up North, actually” remarked Brookes. “The Alacean Navy-”

“-Ah yes I heard about that…. no fatalities, were there?”

“No…. thank god, though there was no wreckage of the pirates vessels though.”, he added with a hint of regret. After all, without hard evidence, convincing the Cravanians of his plans would be considerably harder.

“In any event, they had airpower, which doesn’t bode well, and when you combine it with the reports we’ve had down our end of limpet mines…”

"So what, exactly, are you suggesting, Mr. Brookes?", Anagrams asked curiously. She already knew the answer somewhat, however she would probe as much as she could to get a straight answer from her Northfordian opposite.

“Well…” started Brookes, slowly. He had to pick his words carefully, after all, he needed to ensure he could win her support. Just pointing a finger, regardless of who, was hardly going to win him support.

“Well,” he reiterated, this time slightly slower, “I’m concerned. Things are happening left, right and centre, and I’m wondering how much longer it is until Northford is next. We think we’ve pinned all this on Central Prestonia and Granate, since in every other country has been effected somehow. We think we’ve only be saved due to the fact we slap escorts on all our shipping.”

"Our shipping is usually armed... Legally, of course, as per the owner's discretion. That may be why I've not received any reports of pirates attempting to raid Cravanian civilian shipping. I would have been informed, as well, considering the Kenworth Shipping company is among my assets.", she remarked, referencing her inheritance of her father's multi-billion crave shipping empire. "But yes, it seems somewhat logical that these suspicious incidents are occurring around Granate and Central Prestonia without them seeing the effects of it. What do you propose be done about this, though? I do believe military response would be rather hasty, and I'd rather wait on confronting them about this."

“I’d agree on the military front” said Brookes, getting that sticker out of the way. “we’re halfway through a modernisation at the moment, and we’ve just re-geared our economy for peacetime, so we’re really not in a shape for a protracted conflict. If anything, I’d want to speak to everyone else involved in these incidents, at once, and try and piece together the intelligence. I’d also want to sit down with the Praetonians, after all, the Prestonians have left their little League, but they’ve still got bases on their turf. Also there’s the issue of Granate, which I’d like to see resolved, if only for the Laforians. Your thoughts? Personally I don’t see any harm in it, even if nothing comes of it, it’s a good chance to get a group of leaders sitting down around a table and talking…might even improve a few strained relations.” added Brookes at the end, making light reference to an diplomatic dispute involving the Cravanians and Praetonians.

"I agree.", Anagrams replied. "When do you propose this meeting take place? I do have a bit of a situation developing here at home. I may need to ask Mr. Koslin to take my place."

“Ah yes”, said Brookes, again smiling, “the recent affair with Michealosia and our…friends… Aequatio?”

"Yes indeed... The situation over here is rather tense, and I'm definitely going to be needed. Dave has acted in my place, before, though. I'm sure he'll do a fine job and report back to Laurana with updates periodically."

Brookes sighed. He didn’t particularly mind Dave Koslin, but wanted to see Anagrams again, in any event, though, Koslin and Pember, got on well, having plenty of old GASN stuff to talk about. “Oh no, that’s not a problem, and to be honest, Dave’s more than welcome. Any objections to bringing along Mathew Craven, as a guest of the Northfordian Government? I know he’s not in power anymore, but when it comes to international relations, his experience is more than useful.”

“That’s not to say Koslin isn’t experienced though”, he quickly added, tongue-in-cheek.

"You're more than welcome to invite His Majesty, I'm sure he could give some valuable input.", Anagrams remarked. "For someone who's born into the job and not expected to do much, he really did quite a lot during his reign and I can see why he wanted to retire."

“I dunno…” said Brookes, his professionalism slipping. “I’ve had three heart attacks, and the buggers still can’t keep me away.”

It was conversations like this he missed with Elizabeth Anagrams. While it would be a mistake to say she befriended Brookes during his illness and captivity with the Cravanians, but they did cultivate a friendly rapport during the Haven War, that continued post war with the cordial relationship the Northfordians presently enjoyed. And it certainly helped she was easy on the eyes.

“Anyway”, he carried on, “I was going to suggest a chalet along the Carpanthium/Northford boarder where the armistice was signed. I’ve got a provisional list of members in my head, which I’ll fax you, and of course, you’re welcome to add any you think of. Date wise, we can have our civil service arrange that. We’ll handle the Praetonians separately, since they’ve got a different perspective to us on this, but I’m thinking a two day summit, with day two including everyone, including Praetonia.”

“Yes that sounds fine.” said Anagrams. “I’m guessing by your tone, you want to wrap this up?”

“Not so much that I want to” said Brookes, very truthfully, “but I’ve got a meeting in 20 minutes, and I need to prepare. Farewell, Ms Anagrams.”

And with that, the line went dead.

=========================================================

The following nations were invited to send a delegate to the ‘Northfordian-Cravanian conference for the Security Situation in Southern Continentia’ (NCSSSC):

Northford (Host)
Cravan (Host)
Akimonad
Alacea
Azaha
Jeuna
Franberry (Laforia)
Rosbaningrad
Questers

Also, in a separate message, the Praetonians were invited to a separate conference with Northford, to discuss the “Central Prestonia” issue, while being made fully aware of the other conference that was being held the same day.

===

OOC: Sorry it’s late guys. Let the festive games begin, hehe. Also, I've not written 'invites' so we can skip the bollocks. RP a response to the invite, however you so wish, and when we're all done, we can hop straight into the conference. None of us are idiots here, so let's have a good time, and keep it civil hehe.
Franberry
27-12-2007, 02:29
Redbridge International Airport
The sun was slowly creeping over the east, its beams dashing to and fro behind the clouds, rising higher and higher. The slow and massive shape in the sky was doing exactly the opposite. It broke through the clouds, its white wisps floating about the body, a body which went lower and lower. The cigar-shaped craft did stop, however, and moved, slower than ever, towards a large mast, ground crew mulling about it ready to attend to the Lafonian craft. With great skill, the captain and his crew, in coordination with the Northforidians on the ground, worked swiftly to bring the ship to its mooring. A fine crew was a must, for the craft was nothing other than the Zeppelin of the Colonial Chancellor himself.

Small shapes made their way out of the zeppelin and onto the row of long, slender white cars that awaited nearby. The cars set off, and as soon as they were out of the airport they were joined by two black sedans, which took their positions in front and behind the white luxurious ones. The white vehicles were flying the Franberrian flag, which flapped with the speed of the cars. The black sedans looked heavy to the eyes, as their armor made them appear bulky, yet their power was not hampered due to the powerful motors underneath their hoods. The small caravan, organized by the Franberrian embassy in Redbridge, also had some Northfordian motorcycle police escorting it. Some would say it was an exaggerated measure, but considering the importance of the meeting, the Franberrians did not think twice about the increased security.

Under the lead of the Northfordian police, the motorcade sped to the conference hall. The Colonial Chancellor was most interested in the meeting, and under orders of the central government in Franciscopolis, was to attend the meeting not only on behalf of Lafonia but also Franberry.
Akimonad
27-12-2007, 03:15
The Northfordian invitation was received at the main Akimonadi embassy in Northford. It was then forwarded to the main diplomatic communications centre in Kent and finally forwarded on to the First Minister's office marked important.

The First Minister was on this particular morning sitting in his executive leather chair and reading the newspaper. He looked up slightly from the paper and surveyed the bustling metropolis outside his window. There was a knock on his door and he swung around quickly. "Enter." he said commandingly.

"Dr. Hodz, a new message has arrived." said the secretary, entering.

Dr. Hodz mumbled some gratitude and opened the letter. He read the letter and sat it down.

"A conference..." he muttered to himself. He reclined, picking up the phone. "Get me the Director for Foreign Affairs." he said.

Marko Kensington, said Director, "What's up?" he asked.

"Conference in Northford." Hodz replied. "Who are we sending?"

"Anyone available."

"Eh, no, this sounds more notable than the typical, run-of-the-mill diplomatic conference."

"Why don't you go, Jules?"

"It's not that important. Besides, I get sick of these boring affairs."

"May I remind you that you've not been to one for a good three years?"

Dr. Hodz groaned. "I suppose I'll go then."

"Right, I'll make arrangements."

"Ah, no." Dr. Hodz said shortly. "The only arrangements you'll be making will be involving your luggage."

"Er... what?"

"You're coming along."

There were muffled swears from the receiver of the phone.

**********
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Official Diplomatic Communique

To: Whom It May Concern, Northford
From: Division of Foreign Affairs

First Minister Dr. Jules Hodz and Director Marko Kensington will be attending the NCSSSC.

~Division of Foreign Affairs
Cravan
27-12-2007, 04:50
http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c381/crave22/Cravan/lauranatribuneslightlysmaller.png

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Primary Director Anagrams announces Cravanian involvement in security conference
26 December 2007


At 14:00 hours Laurana time, Madame Director Anagrams confirmed when stopped by reporters at the Imperial Senate that Northford and Cravan would be holding a joint conference pertaining to the security of southern Continentia, a major locale of Imperial interests. On the guest list were representatives from various surrounding nations, including Rosbaningrad and Franberry, however the list in full has not been disclosed to the Tribune.

It was confirmed by the Imperial Department of the Navy that, at 12:00 hours today that the second, sixth, and eighth Imperial Battle Groups and the Fourth Imperial Battleship Squadron, headed by the HIMCS Nottingham, had begun combat patrol operations in the southern sea of the central Continentian gulf. When asked for further comment, the Department of the Navy insisted that the mobilizations were part of a standard combat exercise, with no malignant intent towards any residents of the region. The Naval Department stated that the exercises would proceed over an undisclosed period of time and would not close within 20 nautical miles of any territorial waters of a foreign nation. The exercises, completely unannounced before today, came as a bit of a surprise with their coinciding with the security conference. If the two events are related is still unclear.

*************************

Deputy Primary Director Koslin sat in comfort as his SAM-111 VIP transport began its final descent upon Redbridge International Airport, certainly not the first and not the last time he would see the city he had become so familiar with.

"Sir, we're preparing to land.", an Imperial Air Force attendant said as she passed with a tray resting beneath her arm. "I suggest you buckle in."
"Yes, thank you.", Koslin said gruffly yet sincerely. Moments later the actual "fasten seatbelts" light flickered to life at the front of the plane, and Koslin looked down to ensure it was fastened.

The plane jerked violently as it touched down on the runway, taxiing onto the tarmac uneventfully as Koslin unbuckled and rose from his leather seat, rotating it out from the table he had been sitting at and setting his feet down into the aisle. After casually adjusting his tie, he gathered up whatever notes he had been reading and neatly filed them into his leather case, closing and fastening the old latch and putting the strap over his shoulder. Running his fingers through his coarse, graying hair, he looked to those members of his staff in the cabin with him and nodded. Soon enough, he and several close aides were off the plane and down on the tarmac, awaiting transport provided by the Cravanian consulate to the conference. Just as if on cue, the convoy of luxurious vehicles flanked by armored cars pulled up to the tarmac. The Deputy Primary Director and his staff were ushered into the confines of the limousine, however the line of vehicles was also awaiting the arrival of a SAM-044 VIP transport helicopter, the likes of which was transporting His Imperial Majesty Matthew of Cravan from his estate at Steir Castle in Carpanthium along the southern coast.

The helicopter was a mere five minutes from landing, the former Emperor looking down upon the rolling landscape from the comfort of the helicopter as he sat near the window. His wife had opted to stay home, having grown weary of state visits and political functions during her days on the throne. Craven had come alone to the conference, bringing only himself, some notes he had had lying around for the past twenty years, and his trusty Sapinian Arms CS12 Elite semi-automatic pistol in .45 ACP, concealed in a holster under his sport coat. He was never found without it by his side, having since learned from an incident years ago that he rarely thought back to.

While deep in meditation he had not realized the helicopter had arrived at the airport and was now landing on the tarmac, a line of cars racing towards the helipad, the Cravanian flags mounted on the vehicles flapping in the breeze. The Ex-Emperor stepped down from the helicopter and, with his hands in his pockets and a rather silly lopsided grin on his face, approached the convoy of vehicles. The driver of the central limousine hopped to attention and opened the door for the aging retired monarch, closing it behind the man and quickly returning to his position at the wheel. The motorcade began its short ride through the city Redbridge, shortly after arriving at the conference hall.
Jeuna
27-12-2007, 05:08
Duties


The President of Jeuna had many duties, which were outlined in the Republic's Constitution. He was responsible for managing the relations with foreign entities, headed Presidential Meetings in the government, conducted premature parliamentary elections, confirmed or denied ministerial positions and several other government positions, signed into law bills that had gone through Parliament, issued letters of pardons, served as the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, and awarded medals and decorations. These were all official, outlined in the immovable ink of Jeuna's second founding document—considered by lawyers to be temporary, but effective, as an emergency decision after the Communist takeover of China Proper—but there were indeed other responsibilities that, as the head of state, the President of Jeuna was expected to perform.
+++In Jeuna's rabidly free-market system, corporations wielded true power. The only thing keeping them from installing a fascist government, like the goal of the plotted coup in 1933 in the United States, was both wild success and a permeating sense that the current path be stayed. There was fear, though never spoken in groups, that something drastic might upset the economy and send stocks plunging. The government often worked with the corporations to secure deals, however—thus the boards felt that they had enough control . . . at the moment. It was a perpetual game of touch and go between the government and the corporations; a silent, cold war of money and power, of which the body politic had but little true idea of.
+++The current President, Fan Banou, an industrialist from the coast, was in a meeting with the chairman of one of the leading banks in Jeuna, attending to those unwritten responsibilities, when the door to the posh, curtained penthouse suite cracked open. Fan turned, as did his companion, and both looked at the President's chief of security. The man was a large, burly fellow, but neither could see more than his short-haired head at the time. "Sir President, I believe that this is important."
+++The banker cocked an eyebrow over his spectacles, and looked at Fan out of the corner of his eye. In reply, Fan sighed, and shrugged apologetically. He rose and turned, and so did not notice the annoyed frown on the moneylender's jowly face.


Stir the Pot


"This . . . . This is not good," grumbled Fan, holding the printout in front of him with one hand and holding his head in the other, supported by his chair. Behind him was a view of the verdant green lawn leading up to the Presidential Beach, and out over the horizon, where the white triangles of sailing vessels could be seen vaguely. A freighter could be made out, steaming toward the harbor. Before him lay his oak desk, made from the salvaged wood of the Longzhou, Jeuna's "first" frigate and first destroyed ship, broken up on the coral reefs that surrounded Jeuna's coast like a moat. In front of the desk, and of far more immediate importance, was the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Trade, Ran Ruinu, currently with his arms crossed in what might be called pensive.
+++"It is not as if I could sit on that all day, Sir President. They had to find out, eventually," replied Ran, pursing his lips together.
+++"I suppose," Fan replied in his chuntering voice. "It would be bad enough, I suppose, Ran," he went on, sighing. "If their little spat had just stayed down there. But no, no, conflicts can never resist jumping their bounds. The markets down in Prestonia and Granate have been affected, yes, even Rosbanigrad—God knows the investors there love a good war, which is probably why they have got the least amount of paranoia in their stock exchange—and certainly Laforia, but it is at the least more manageable than something that stretches its tentacles up to Alacea and Cravan. We would have been able to keep our tidy little sum coming in from the factions without interference, but if Cravan gets involved, well—" He grunted, and set down the paper with a frustrated flick of his wrist. It fluttered a little, before settling. "I don't like this, Ran. Financing this debacle of theirs was a great benefit to the economy. If we're forced to stop them, or if someone else stops them, then that will dry up." He gestured—poof.
+++"Oh, indeed, Sir President. I agree," Ran replied with a helpless gesture, opening his palms skyward before returning them to his arms. "However, if we are to maintain the Cravanians' trust—and promise of security from those maniacs in Zanziik, I need not remind you—we must at least appear to support their decision, and that will undoubtedly be to wrap up this security situation—and likely Prestonia and perhaps even Granate, should the Rosbani intelligence sources be right—post-haste." Fan frowned, and Ran shrugged. "You know that is what they will want, or force to happen. Strategically, if we want to survive as a country, we must go along with this. We cannot risk our future, which still hangs by a thread."
+++"I do not think," Fan said slowly, getting up from his chair to lean, knuckles-down, on his desk. "That it is quite so dire as that, but yes, we must at least go along with this, if not outright support it. This—" He gestured at the paper he'd tossed down earlier. "—is not for another couple of weeks, and I believe I can clear up my calendar in that time."
+++"Are you sure you want to go, Sir President?" asked Ran, crooking a brow.
+++"Well," started Fan, straightening himself and tugging on his suit. "They say 'when in Rome', hmm?"
Rosbaningrad
27-12-2007, 20:56
Redbridge International Airport, Northford

The Sultan disembarked from his small, private jet onto the tarmac. He had been invited to the nation of Northford, for some conference on the security of Southern Continentia. Rosbaningrad indeed was in Southern Continentia, one of the smallest nations geographically and incredibly dense population wise. Should war between the southern neighbor and the National Constitutional Sultanate erupt, Rosbaningrad would quickly fall. The Rosbanis realized they had to make allies quick after independence in '87, and one of those allies was Northford. The Northfordian-Rosbani Alliance was recognized by Parliament in '88, the Rosbanis received military protection and the Northfordians received basing rights. In the twenty years following the signing of the NRA, the Rosbani military had increased in strength, albeit not much. The Northfordian presence in Rosbaningrad was needed for Rosbani longevity.

Earlier in the day, the Sultanate and Parliament decided that they would attend the conference, on what they had no idea. The Sultan, with three body guards, entered a white car. In front of them and behind them were Northfordian guards, ensuring the protection of the Sultan. The white car had two Rosbani flags flying on the two rear windows, and was soon met by another white two door. Inside of it was the Rosbani Ambassador to Northford and his aid, the car the same two flags flying on her rear windows. The motorcade would soon leave the airport, off into the Security meeting. What is so unsafe about South Continentia? the Sultan wondered. He grew up in Colonial Rosbaningrad - knowing that the Jews would always protect him. He lived the rest of his life in Independent Rosbaningrad - knowing that the Northies would alwlays protect him.
Granate
27-12-2007, 20:59
Somewhere in the South Continentia Gulf

The container ship Zhakaev jarred lightly against the waves in the rough seas. Although there was no threat of the vessel capsizing, the crew was on edge. To go long with the rough seas, rain pelted the ship ceaselessly, further adding to the crew's discomfort. Most of the crew, decided to hole themselves up in their quarters. The captain was in the bridge, trying to navigate through the weather, and to make matters worse, the radar had just quit on him. He cursed to himself, noting that the news had reported that Cravan Battlegroups were in the area patrolling. He decided to get an engineer to try and fix the damnable radar before they became more lost.

"Viktor, get up here and fix this thing!" He yelled down the stairwells. There was silence for a moment, followed by soft thuds. Then the metallic sounds of boots on metal as Viktor climbed the stairs. He looked a little pissed at being called up.

"What seems to be the problem, Captain?" He said through gritted teeth, he didn't like the captain, but he was getting paid to work with him, not against him, so he swallowed his pride every now and then.

"The damned radar is broken, take some men with you and fix the thing, before we become hopelessly lost in this storm." The Captain said, puncuated with his fist pounding the console he was at. He wanted the Radar fixed ASAP, and Viktor was to do it. Viktor sighed and was about to say something about the weather being too bad to go and fix the Radar, but then he remembered that Sasha and Mikhail had some Vodka stashed in a container out there. He quickly agreed to do as the Captain asked and left to get Sasha and Mikhail.

The Captain just sighed, wondering why Viktor wasn't his normal stubborn self, before he went back to trying to plot a course manually through the storm, that he was sure would be the death of him if he didn't act.
Central Prestonia
27-12-2007, 21:27
Official Prestonian Communique

One must question the need for this conference. The Prestonian Imperium has never done anything to jeopardize the security of the region. As I recall the last war the region experienced was the Presto-Granatian War, in 1910. Since then the area has been one of the most peaceful in Continentia. One must also question the sense of holding a conference and not inviting the nation whom it concerns. How, I ask you, are we supposed to speak in our own defense when we haven't the opportunity to hear the charges against us? Please at the very least consider allowing us to attend.

Yours,
HM King Steven I
Cravan
27-12-2007, 22:00
HIMCS Nottingham, Bridge
South Continentian Gulf

"We're full ahead, sir. The storm should be over us and away within four hours' time."
"Excellent.", Lieutenant Arthur Griswold, the officer of the watch, replied as he stood at the central display touch screen table on the bridge. The task force on exercises in the region was experiencing a rough patch, but nothing too rough.

The bridge was relatively quiet tonight, the hum of the electrical equipment being the only sound truly audible over the muffled roar of the wind and crash of the rain outside, the droplets pattering against the thick pane of glass.

"Sir, unidentified contact bearing at two-zero-one from the east, coming towards our line of travel at cruising speed. We'll be within forty kilometers of it within the end of the hour."
"Identification?"
"Unknown, sir, possibly a cargo vessel or otherwise."

Griswold scratched his chin, knowing what that "otherwise" could encompass.

"Call the admiral. We're not taking any chances. They're almost in our denial zone as it is."

******************

HIMCS Nottingham, Helicopter Deck
South Continentian Gulf

Rear Admiral Jack Donohue, commanding officer of the Fourth Battleship Squadron, stood on the helo deck with his hands deep in his coat pockets as he puffed on a smoldering cigarette, the embers extinguished by the constant torrents of rain.

"Good morning, gentlemen.", he began, removing the cigarette from his mouth to speak loudly over the beating of two SH-20B Seacats' rotors. "At oh-one-hundred hours this morning, contact was made with an unidentified ship bearing on us from the south, which will interdict our line of travel in approximately twenty minutes. It is already thirty kilometers away from our current position, violating our operational area. It is your job to establish contact with this unknown vessel, and determine the threat it may pose to our operations in the region. Chances are it's a cargo ship off course. But I don't want to test those chances."

The twenty-four Imperial Marines who stood before him did not even shift, instead remaining at attention throughout the entirety of their briefing. Dressed in full CQB night combat gear, their black battle dress uniforms were silhouetted against the floodlights which bathed the helipad in a bright aura.

"Do you understand your objectives?"
"Yes, sir!", they responded in unison.
"Then saddle up and get to it.", the Admiral said, giving a cursory salute to the group of men and turning to return back inside.

**************************

Container Ship Zhakaev
South Continentian Gulf

"Attention unidentified vessel, you are currently inside the operational area of an Imperial Cravanian Navy task force. Identify yourselves immediately or you will be boarded.", the co-pilot of the lead helicopter announced, his message broadcast over several common shipping frequencies. "I say again, identify yourselves or prepare to be boarded."

No response.

"I say again, identify yourselves immediately."

Still nothing. The co-pilot looked back to the squad leader on board the helicopter, a Lieutenant Ashley Callaghan, and nodded that the boarding mission was probably a go. The Aurelian Marine then turned back to his squad, and in his thick accent, relayed the orders.

"Prepare for boarding.", he said loudly over the helicopter's engine. "Appears we're gon'ave to get in there an' find out what th' fuck is up with'em. Load up, and remember, if they resist, shoot to maim, not to kill. Th' buggers'll have a helluva time if they wanna put up a fight, eh?"

The same was said in the other helicopter as well, orders exchanged and understood by the elite troops. The two helicopters continued their orbit around the container ship, awaiting confirmation from the Nottingham to commence boarding operations and giving the ship ample time to respond to the radio message.
Praetonia
30-12-2007, 02:34
"I am sure, Lord Randolph, that they do not mean to offend us," Sir William Sanderson lied. Prim and proper, the Permanent Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs believed that everyone else was as careful and calculating as him.

His Lordship made an indistinct noise as a Northfordian butler led him through an ostentation archway.

"Tell me, Sir William, how many tonnes of high explosive His Majesty's Imperial Navy could have on top of the capital of Northford if it were His Majesty's pleasure?" Lord Randolph asked, sarcastically. Sir William, being a tactful man, did not reply, because he knew the answer was none until a strategic bomber wing arrived IN Port Royal next week, but he would also not lie to the Minister, who quietly revered him as the font of all knowledge. He did, however, agree with the Minister's sentiment - the Praetonian forces stationed in Central Prestonia were more strategically relevant than many of the minor colonies whose owners had been invited to the main conference.

"I think, Sir," began Sir William, "that Northford simply does not want a major power whose alignment may be uncertain influencing the opinions of the delegates until they have already established a resolve amongst the assembly for their prefered course."

"Ha!" Lord Randolph spat, "and how is that anything but a deliberate insult?"

"They probably do not see it in such personal terms as your Lordship does," Sir William said, flatly. It was as close as he ever came to conceeding the point, but before Lord Randolph could attempt to complete his victory, the Northfordian footman indicated that they had arrived, opened a door into an oak-panelled room, bowed, and left the two alone. They took a seat at the table and waited.