NationStates Jolt Archive

Above Stumpy Point, No Endorse
B-22 Fortress Delta

"Ground Control this is Fortess Delta, all plane and weapon system checks are green, chase planes have begun recording and all their instruments check out, requesting coordinates of the target."

"Roger that Fortress Delta, we're sending the coordinates to you, report back when you've uploaded them into the missile."

"Roger that control."

It was a wonderful day in No Endorse for a missile test, clear skies, the radiation was at safe levels because the wind was blowing into Ato-Sara, the sun was rising so the cameras would have a clear view of the launch in the twilight hours of early morning. It truly was a wonderful day, not at all fiting the shocking events that would happen soon.

"Ground control, this is Fortress Delta, coordinates uploaded to get targeting computer and missile guidance system, requesting permission to initiate launch sequence."

"Roger that Fortress Delta, stand by for permission."

Ground Control, No Endorsian Military Base
Missile Command Room 001

"Ms. President, permission to initiate the launch sequence?" Said the radio operator.

"Of course, begin when ready." Responded President Kara Maddox with her eyes still on the eight screens that showed the various cameras tracking the plane, two mounted on B-22s following one beside, and one behind, while four high powered cameras watched from the ground.

"Mr. Amner, prepared to witness the most awesome missile system ever created." She said to one of the persons next to her, who just happened to be the leader of No Endorse, the others were Mrs. Amner, President Olav Jagland of Chevrokia and the STRATCOM commander from the same country.

Back in the Air

"Fortress Delta you have permission to initiate the launch sequence, test 'Unto Heaven' is a go."

"Roger that ground control, beginning launch run." Responded the pilot as he and his copilot opened up on the throttle, accelerating the plane it's top speed.

"Begining climb to launch angle, initiate countdown" Yelled the pilot to the bombadier as he and the co-pilot steadily pulled the plane to it's optimum launch angle of 45 degrees.

"5... 4..." Said the bombadier as he began the countdown. "3... 2... 1... Launch!" He yelled out, unknowning that his pressing flipping off the launch switch would send someone into death, and two leaders on a collision course of love and lust.

The missile dropped from the open bomb bay doors of the launch plane, which banked to the right when a safe distance from the missile [for safety even though the missile would pass over 5000ft infront of it.]. The various cameras on the chase planes and on the ground followed the missile higher, and higher through the atmosphere, until the ultra high magnification lense on the lead chase B-22 was on the only camera that could still see the missile as it flew into space, and released it's MaIRVs.

Twenty-five minutes later, with the 5 MaIRVs impacting in a penatgon around the already ruined city of Old Lover's Leap, the test would be sucessful, but by then, no one on the ground cared.

"I simply don't understand why that woman insists on demonstrating those things in person!" Violet Amner stormed throughout the dictator's house, weakly flinging a set of documents onto Atal Amner's desk.

"Well... my dear.... you see, Miss Maddox is terribly prou-"

"Proud indeed! And just when it was getting cool enough to send in cleanup teams into Lover's Leap! Yet you want to bomb it again!? It's our home Atal! Or have you forgotten?" Violet collapsed back into a chair, withdrawing a blood-stained handkerchief and coughing violently.

"Violet, please, calm down. You're not well and all this shrieking will only serve to worsen things." Atal moved next to her, holding her free hand through the violent cascade of coughs that shook her frail form. "Listen, we'll stay in a ground center, right here in New Heisen if you'd like, and she'll be here and gone in a few days tops." With one last violent cough, a black mass of mucous shot from her mouth, and she lay still.

"Violet? Are you alright?"

"Yes." She raised her hand weakly, wiping her face clear and tossing the kerchief into a nearby basket. "Must I go to this horrid business?"

"I'm afraid so, Kara would be devastated if you weren't present. But it will only be a ten minute demonstration, and then we shall all return here for festivities. I cannot imagine that the weapons will actually be armed, considering the cost of such." Atal straightened, offering a hand to his wife. "Now, let us retire, there is excitement to be had on the morrow. Shall I call the doctors to take a look at you?"

"No" she said curtly, leaning heavily on Atal as they left the room. Excitement indeed

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

"Such a LOVELY day for a nuking, if I do say so myself, eh my dear?" Amner winked at his wife cordially, grinning intently at the myriad displays before him. Violet sat beside him, hands folded tightly in her lap.

The pale luminescence of numerous monitors cast her face in an unhealthy glow, showing just how much of a toll her affliction had taken upon her. Her once proud features seemed weathered, her face sunken, and her very bones seemed exposed in her hands. Every so often, she would withdraw a kerchief and cough violently, shaking with each breath. Atal placed his arm around her, trying to comfort the only way he knew how.

"Mr. Amner, prepared to witness the most awesome missile system ever created." The pair glanced up, Atal grimacing like a schoolboy. "Indeed Miss Kara, I can conceive of no greater accomplishment than the transferal of fully strategic weapons to the air."

He watched with avid fascination as the missile was released, visibly moved when the first stage ignited, tearing its way unto space. A great torch shot from the end of the munition, many meters long, shining long after the missile itself was lost to the eye. As the MIRVs ejected, all present stood and clapped, the camera finally losing them from view.

Atal moved from Violet's side, stepping up to Maddox's position overlooking the master bank of monitors. "Well done Kara, I believe that we shall find a need to purchase at least a hundred conversion kits for our B-22s, as well as all necessary missile material and associated hardware. The order won't be a problem, will it?"

He slapped her on the back cheerfully. "This takes me back; it really does, all the way to Nova Britannica. You were President for that? Oh yes, of course you were! How silly of me! You were elected in two thousand six, right? Oh, how so many presidents seem to come and go. But us Dictators, we are eternal. They kill off one or two of us every so often, but mostly it's syphilis or alcohol you know. Don't get me wrong, there are perils in the job, and it's not all daises, but I simply don't know how you democracies put up with it all."

Suddenly, he was cut off by a fierce bout of coughing from Violet, who fell from her seat with a cry. "GET A DOCTOR IN HERE NOW!" He rushed over, pulling her upright and clutching her violently racked form. Suddenly the coughing ceased and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

The doctors arrived and took her away, leaving a stunned Atal Amner speechless, kneeling on the ground. VIOLET!

Just as Maddox was above to deliver a witty retort towards the dictator she was cut off by Violet's coughing fit, and then it all happened so fast, before she could begin to come to her senses the doctors and come and gone and Atal was left kneeling on the floor.

She felt, horrible, if she hadn't of insisted Violet, a long time friend and woman leader, come to the test, this wouldn't of happened. She had to do something.

"Atal, I'm sorry for making you bring her along when I knew she was so sick," she said with her voice breaking at points as she kneeled next to the dictator, "I'm sure she'll be ok, she's strong, you know that, I'm sorry."

She wasn't making much sense anymore and doubted Atal was even listen, so she did the only thing a friend would do, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

She will be ok

"This should be a fine day, Mr. President. You know, there’s nothing I love more than a good missile launch," said General Anna Christenson, head of Chevrokian Strategic Command (STRATCOM).

"Nothing…?" President Olav Jagland said, trailing off with a subtle hint at otherwise.

Anna ignored it for the moment. "This one should be really something to watch. The crew will pull the plane back into a 45-degree climb for launch, that sort of maneuver alone being something rather spectacular for a big plane like the B22."

"So what are the numbers?"

"A loadout for orbital capacity is three 500 kiloton or six 150 kiloton warheads, or a single 1.25 megaton warhead, all thermonuclear devices with maneuverable re-entry vehicles. B22 can hold six of these and still have a 93.5% fuel load…"

"That’s not what I meant," he interrupted. "What are YOUR numbers, Ms. Christenson?"

She roller her eyes back at that inquiry. "Mr. President…"

"You can stop calling me that, you know."

"No, sir, I can’t," she said, obviously quite annoyed. "I have a serious duty now. And that was a long time ago, I was younger then."

"Anna, that was three years ago," he countered.

"And you’re married," she leaned over nearer. "You wouldn’t want Mrs. Jagland to find out that incident?"

A bit further away in the control room, President Maddox spoke up "Mr. Amner, prepared to witness the most awesome missile system ever created."

Anna turned away from President Jagland. "Now, enough of this, Mr. President, the launch is about to commence."

DAMN, President Jagland thought.

The two watched the displays, following closely the missile launch and motor ignition. Anna caught a glance at Mrs. Amner. She she didn’t look very healthy, but Anna’s attention was soon brought back to the launch, apparently quite successful as the others in the room were standing and applauding.

"An excellent result, Mr. President," Anna said. "I’m sure those boys down in Bomber Command will be happy they’ve got some new toys to play with."

President Jagland was about to say something, when suddenly Mrs. Amner began coughing violently, collapsing to the floor.

"Oh my, what’s wrong with Mrs. Amner?" Jagland asked.

"I’m not sure, sir, but she didn’t look very healthy earlier," Anna said, with a distinct hint of concern in her voice. "I do hope she will be OK."

ooc: bout damn time, and not as good as I would've liked.... I'll prolly go back through and rework a few parts. I need to flesh some of the sections out more, but whatever, it's good enough for guvment work.
IC:

"Well."

Atal Amner stared into the mirror before him, adjusting his collar. The stiff material yielded unwillingly to his hands. He shifted each side to the minute perfection required of a man in his position, his every motion refined from endless repetition. Yet the minute details of his apparel did naught to conceal the storm within. A soaked handkerchief lay across the arm of a chair, the only outwardly obvious sign of his grief.

He collapsed into the chair, head in his arms. Everything had been done, the orders for the missiles, to be known as the Violet in No Endorse Service, had been placed, and the invitations sent. Had everyone arrived yet? He thought so, but one could never know. He shook uncontrollably for a moment, bracing for the push.

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

"I'm sorry sir, I can't let you in there." An arm shot across the doorway before Atal, its owner quickly behind.

"That's my wife! You WILL let me in!" He attempted to shake the doctor off, only to find two guards coming to assist. "DAMN YOU ALL! I will see you executed! I AM ATAL AMNER! LET ME THROUGH THAT GODS DAMNED DOOR!"

The doctor pulled himself together, drawing himself up to his full, rather unimpressive, height. "Mister Prime Minister, I frankly don't care who you are. I am the only man in the entire city, possibly the entire nation, with the expertise to help her. You WILL remove yourself from this spot NOW, before you make my job that much harder. I need to operate."

Amner stepped back stunned, and trudged back towards the waiting room. A guard followed close behind, a steadying hand on the leader's shoulder. Who was this man to speak so? Violet….

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

“Mister Amner? They’re all waiting.” Miss Vickers, an aide, peeked around the door, beckoning him onward. “The delegations have all arrived successfully, though it was a close call with a few. Air Traffic made one of them circle until they were almost out of fuel, but it got sorted out.”

Air Traffic indeed, incompetents.

“Also, there is a Miss Maddox waiting for you in the lobby. She was inquiring about your state, I told her you would be out directly.” Miss Vickers leaned over, trying to discern a reaction in her boss. The government was full of rumors about this foreign President and her effect on the Prime Minister, and Miss Vickers hoped to be the first to know.

Atal rubbed his hand across his face, which returned to its perpetual impassive state. “Thank you Miss Vickers. That will be all. Please inform Miss Maddox I will be out directly.” He watched her leave the room, closing the door softly. He rose, straightened the last remaining sections of his attire and stepped to the door.

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

Atal looked across the waiting room, in a state of shock. Delegates wandered to and fro. It seemed someone had decided to cart the entire group from the control center to the hospital, and that someone was likely to regret it. The buzz of conversation suddenly ceased, and all turned to the great leader of No Endorse. He gestured to an entire side of the room. “Out. Now.”

Atal sank into a chair, glancing up to see the only two remaining in the room to be Maddox and that Chevrokian bloke…. Who was he? Olav Jagland, wasn’t it? Oh well, it hardly seemed to matter….

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

Atal nodded to Maddox as he walked through the lobby of the building. Gesturing for her to follow, he made his way into a waiting car and bid her enter. After a few moments of silence, he turned to her.

“Kara….”

This isn't right.

She watched the dictator, her friend, walk past her, with only a small gesture showing he was more then a walking zombie.

He was always a master of concealing his feelings, right up until the boiling point, she knew him, this wasn't him. He was dejected, almost like a small child who had lost his favorite playmate.

She climbed into the awkward silence of the car.

"Kara..."

With that, she snapped, she couldn't take the dejected Amner any more.

"Atal..." She said scarcely above a whisper as she learned over and drew the dictator for life into a hug against her chest.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't of asked her to come..."

“Events at home are quiet, as usual Mr. President,” one of President Jagland’s aides was speaking. “Secretary Gustav secured a deal with ADEN for one-thousand and twenty Blackburn Blackadder bombers for the Navy. Exports of artillery vehicles for still going strong, with artillery units going to Franberry, Mekugi, The Silver Sky, and here in No Endorse. Abroad, Greston has pulled out of the Latvawgo conflict, as well as Ustio North. Dun Eideann may still cause some problems…”

Olav Jagland was only partly listening to his aide, with his attention otherwise focused on the mirror in front of him, working on making his tie straight and professional. He then turned to the glass of brandy on the table beside him and took a small drink, and having finished that, realized that his aide was standing there, quiet, waiting for him to respond.

“Good, good. I should not expect Dun Eideann to persist much longer, what with the powers of Franberry, Praetonia, and Questeria, amongst others, arrayed against them.”

The tone of his voice also reflected his mood. Shortly before he had been informed that Mrs. Amner had passed away, following her collapse during the missile firing exercise a few days prior, and now Olav was getting himself ready to attend her funeral. Idly, he thought about his job as President, how he’d sent people to their deaths, and though he didn’t enjoy that, it was part of the job. But having people die in front of you, or even seeing what it does to those closest to them, can be quite painful. Olav remembered how the former Navy chief-of-staff Gabriel Kinsgaard reacted when he was informed of the death of his son, whose ship had been torpedoed off the coast of Hamilay. Ol’ Kinsgaard was never the same after that. At the moment, Olav felt somewhat bad that he couldn’t exactly understand what it felt like, he’d not yet lost somebody extremely close to him.

“Getting ready for the funeral, Mr. President?” It was General Anna Christenson, who had stopped by the room on her way to get breakfast.

“Yes, indeed, General Christenson.”

“I don’t have to go, do I sir? I really can’t do funerals.”

“No, don’t worry about it. This is more of a diplomatic event, so it will just be me attending, and even though I didn’t know her very well, it’s for Mr. Amner.”

“That’s good, sir. I get really emotional at funerals … it sort of doesn’t fit with my job, does it?”

“Well, you’re only human, just like the rest of us. Don’t worry about it.” He paused for a moment, turning back towards the mirror and buttoning up his suit. “How do I look?”

“You look very professional, sir.”

“Yeah … well, I must be off, now.”