NationStates Jolt Archive

The Underhive, it was a sprawling mess of pipelines, sewers and electrical conduit, thousands of people lived here, it was a slum area, it was a city under a city...

The smell was acrid, everything that was thrown away in the city usually ended up down here, people living in the underhive known as "The Below" had grown accustomed to this life style, scavanging the things they needed from the things people in the city no longer wanted... clothing, books, paper, everything you can image that was thrown away was down here...

The Below had also grown to hate those who lived in the city above them, the fresh air, the sunlight, clean running water instead of the polluted sewer water that ran through the centre of the underhive...

They hated the fact that the people above ignored the plight of those below, choosing instead to turn a blind eye and continue as though nothing was wrong, they had good health care while those below rotted in the waste of the main city...

It had started almost a decade ago, when the country was being run by a government that had fresh ideas, a new democratic society where people would run the country and the Government would simply enact what the people wanted, it soon went wrong however, as the city prospered and grew inside, natural rural to urban migration increased and people began to flock to the city, it must be noted however that this city in question is the Capital City of Vermont...

These people arriving at the city had no place to live, to work or anything they moved to the city with only their most personal and prized possetions... leaving everything behind for this ideal life...

However, it was misguided, crime started to rise and soon got out of hand, with immigrants from the country side stealing food so that they could eat, mugging people at night for money and some turning to drugs to simply stave off the hunger, society in the city was begining to collapse...

The Government, listening to the outcries of those living in the city moved to clamp down on these rural immigrants, and ordered the police to dispose of them as quickly and efficiently as possible...

It was a hard task, the police began to break under the pressure of having to forcefully remove their own people from the city and send them away to possibly die in the remote areas of the country...

but still the migration of rural people to the city did not abate, people hearing stories and rumours of great riches ripe for the taking for those gutsy enough to move and take them... and so the problem continued...

The Goverment dissolved itself after the flow of the rural migrants had reached its apex and the people of the city had taken up arms and formed their own death squads, killing migrants at random, total anarchy ensued... buildings were set on fire, petrol bombs exploded destroying cars and sending people errupting into flames...

The Administration stepped in, A group of shadowy people who quickly deployed the Armed Forces and took control of the situation, within a matter of weeks, the army strategically cut sections of the city off using road blocks and machine gun nests, to force the immigrants who had now banded together in large groups for protection, towards the cities underground complexes, forcing the immigrants into these maze like underground passages...

Once the immigrants had been forced into the passages, they were sealed up using concrete and sheet metal plating, forever trapping these people underground, but people are hardy, and can adapt and soon the immigrants began making their homes amongst the waste, using what was thrown away in the city dumps to complete their metropalis of waste materials...

and this is where it begins, The Administration knew that these people were there, knew that they had trapped them in there and knew that sooner or later they would come out looking for freedom again...

Also The Administration knew that this was a good way of dealing with prisoners, criminals and other more... "Unagreeable" types... they were simply thrown into the underhive after the Administration had several areas reopened and guarded by the Federation State Police, as the police force was to be known...

And so, The Administration were begining to make the moves necessary for the Completion of its goal... the Cleansing of the Underhive Sections....

ALKRA CITY
AGRANDOV

A tall, narrow building - sandwiched in between a luxury hotel and the Agrandan National Bank - had managed to stand out in the middle of the city as being spectacularly uninteresting. A single step from the street led up to an oak door with brass fittings, and heavy windows were dispersed evenly over its red-brick front wall. A slanted slate tile roof, punctured by an unused chimney, was still slightly wet from the rain that morning. It was an old building, one that had seen little activity of late and was enjoying a sense of retirement. It certainly had character, but it was that of an old an quaint hub of slow and simple bureaucracy, where nothing was ever rushed, and very little was ever done. As the sun set over Alkra City - the capital of Agrandov - the shadow cast by the building across the street crept from the single step, upwards. As darkness reached each layer of windows in turn, soft electric light was visible through the frosted glass. The coming of night did not mean sleep for this building, as it was never truly awake.

The only clue as to the building's function was a small and unfathomably neat brass plaque mounted on the wall, by the door. 'THE MINISTRY OF AGRICULTURE', it read, offering no further details. The interior followed suit, giving the impression of an important yet unused place of archives and records. The interior managed to be comfortable without being luxurious, grand without being imposing, and quiet without being silent. The image was perfect, with every detail present, from the thick maroon rugs on the flagstone floor, to the doddering old dear of a receptionist, Mrs Carver. The five floors above were sparsely populated, a mix of dusty old accountants and moderately-effective cleaning staff, in almost equal measure. A single security guard, a war veteran who had practically retired, sat in his chair by the door, and would chatter idly to anyone present, if he was awake.

But something was not right with the Ministry of Agriculture, something difficult to place and near-impossible to pin down. It could have been the underlying sense of calculation behind the entire kindly building. It could have been the abundance of small, discreet security cameras hidden in the corners of every corridor and room, despite there being no security office on the floor plan. It could have been the small markings in the corner of each and every window; attributing their manufacture to the 'ClearStop' corporation, a manufacturer of bullet- and bomb-proof glass. It could have been the small, red button under Mrs Carver's desk that put a silent alarm straight to the Ministry of War. Visitors to the Ministry of Agriculture would often leave with a sense of being watched, that could persist for several days.

On Mrs Carver's that evening landed a heavy, inflexible package the size of a sheet of paper and about an inch thick. In just a thick brown envelope, it had been delivered jovially by the regular government courier. Such packages would arrive frequently to the Ministry, before being sent down a small elevator to the basement. She would never see them again, nor would anything come the other way, but she was not inclined to ask questions. On the envelope itself it had only the Ministry's address in black print, with no return address or hint as to its contents.

In the basement below, however, a very different face of the Ministry was completely hidden from public view. Understated corridors of white painted walls and plain beige carpets were under the light-panelled ceilings, with thick, heavy doors on either side every so often. The original function of the Ministry of Agriculture had been partitioned and spread around the nation in regional offices long ago, and it's Alkra City headquarters were now fulfilling a new purpose. It was now the main office of the National Centre of Intelligence, which existed on paper as a subsection of the military, but in reality was so much more. The building was one of several hidden buildings in the nation, although this was by far the biggest with twelve floors stretching under ground.

On the B1 floor of the NCI, inside a typical conference room that could have been through any steel door on that floor, an important briefing was taking place. Around a hardwood table sat several suited individuals, most of them operatives who were receiving details on their next assignment. The other people were from command or logistics sections of various appearances. The operatives however were more consistent, males in their late twenties or early thirties. These operatives, alongside thousands of others, formed the secret eyes, ears - and if necessary hands - of the government.

An aide entered silently and passed the envelope from upstairs to a thin middle-aged woman from command. Her name was Ms Dreyman, and she would be organising the entire operation. Opening the envelope, she removed a large steel black file case with a mechanical lock, which quickly yielded to a small key. Inside were several Agrandan and Sahgian passports and various other papers concerning the mission and it's target.

"Gentlemen," she began, standing to hand out information to each operative. "This is the Federation of Sahg, a small and troubled nation run by a mysterious 'Administration'. Due to recent events, it is entirely possible that the Ministry of War will want Agrandan troops on Sahgian soil. The downside is that they might be up against various other nations, most notably Doomingsland."

Ms Dreyman took her seat, looking almost regretful for the situation these operatives would be dropped into. Despite this, however, she was still confident that they could handle it. "Your primary objective is to investigate the state of Sahg and the alignment of it's people. Specifically, how much of a push it would take to spark a revolution, and how they would react to foreign occupation... whether it be benevolent or otherwise. Your secondary objective is to gather as much information as possible on the Sahg Administration.

"Your cover will be that of Sahgian citizens returning from Agrandov, and the appropriate paperwork on this end has already been fabricated. Your mission is short term, to bring back any information we might need when dispatching long-term sleeper agents. However," she sighed, "I'm afraid that's all the help we can give you. You'll be going in there completely empty handed, and we'll be limited in the assistance we can send. I know you've all been briefed several times on the worst-case-scenario, but please, humour me," said Ms Dreyman grimly. "Under no circumstances are you to reveal your connection to the Agrandan government. If you are compromised, and you cannot escape, then you are a liability."