NationStates Jolt Archive

You are watching Veritas: Fair and unbiased State and Church-approved news!

The blue three-dimensional Veritas logo blazes across the screen as music plays in the background and the voice of an unseen announcer booms. At the bottom are the various news tickers, emblazoned in luminous red on a golden bar. Headlines such as 'DDI stocks reach record high, stock holders pleased' and 'Caesar attends diplomatic conference in Theebs, infidels riot' flash across the bar as the camera focuses on a pair of smartly dressed news anchors sitting at a desk, behind them the unmistakable sight of the skyline of Urbus Doomanus.

"I'm Marius Carbo," the first news anchor, a forty-ish man with distinctive Doomani facial features in a business suit and jet black hair said to the camera,

"And I'm Livia Alba, and you're watching Veritas, the only truly fair and unbiased news agency in all Terra Sancta!" a pretty brunette says with a smile.

The camera once more flashes to Marius and in the upper right corner of the screen flashes an image of former president of Kahanistan Marcellus Valens, with the words 'Sentenced to Burn' appearing in golden lettering across the photo. Marius begins in a serious tone,

"Earlier this evening the Imperial Grand Court convened in the Palace of Justice, finding the former president of Kahanistan and war criminal Marcellus Valens guilty of all charges, which included crimes against humanity, crimes against the Imperium, crimes against the Church, no less than fifty-six hundred counts of facilitation of blaspemy, terrorism, and perhaps the most unspeakable of his crimes, the unlawful occupation of the Holy City of Jerusalem. We go now to our field anchor Horatius Caepio reporting live from the Palace of Justice. Horatius?"

The camera flashes to an image of another man in a business suit with a neatly trimmed beard and microphone. He is standing in front of what appear to be an enourmous set of marble steps, which proceed upwards past the view of the camera.

"Thanks, Marius. Behind me is the Palace of Justice, where earlier today the vile criminal Marcellus Valens was sentenced to death by burning by the Praetor Maximus, His Most Righteous Honor Salvius Celer," the camera once again flashes, this time displaying footage from the sentencing.

Sitting atop a lavishly high, superbly polished marble judge's bench emblazoned with an enourmous golden eagle clutching the fasces, symbol of Imperial justice, and inscribed with the letters SPQD is a man with bright white hair and wrinkled tan skin (though he appears in good enough physical shape) in the white robes of a Praetor. He glares down some fifty feet below (the chamber within which the court is housed is quite massive, with marble columns rising some one hundred feet into the air and massive stands packed with spectators on either side of the room) at a tattered, broken man dressed in rags, kneeling upon a polished bronze circle with both of his wrists shackled, the chains pulling his arms out to either side to the ground. The camera zooms in on the prisoner, a shadow of the man he once was: Marcellus Valens bears signs of torture and now sports a long, scraggly grey beard. He appears broken and barely aware of what is going on around him.

The camera flashes back to the judge,

"This court finds the defendant guity of all charges. Marcellus Valens: For your abominable acts, you are hereby sentenced to burn in the arena until which time the Carnifex sees fit to deliever the coup de grace," his voice booms angrily, "Consider this a merciful punishment, fiend, for there are far more agonizing ways this court could have sentenced you to die," he spat, glaring down at the prisoner.

"This court is adjourned!" he slammed down the gavel.

The camera flashes back to Horatius Caepio,

"The criminal Valens was imprisoned for three years in Sanguinarium before first standing trial before the Supreme Inquisition, which found him guilty of a variety of crimes before sentencing him to death, not prescribing any particular method. As such, the Grand Court's sentence takes precedence, and Valens shall die as per its command. The execution is slated to take place one week from today’s date in the Coliseum of Urbus Doomanus. Games are to be held that day to commemorate that event, including a fantastic reenactment of the Negev Crusade using live captives taken in that war! Back to you, Marius and Livia,”

The camera flashes back to the news studio and Marius nods at the camera with a smile,

”Thanks, Horatius, and what a glorious day it is indeed for the world to see a such a vile criminal receive his just due!”

“Indeed. Sources inside the Palace of Justice have confirmed that the Carnifex Maximus is to preside over the execution, so we can all look forward to watching Valens die a slow agonizing death at the hands of the greatest executioner in the Imperium!” Livia chimed in with a smile, the camera panning to her. ”In related news, recent studies have shown that Kahanistani brains are 40% smaller than normal human brains..."

To the Government of Doomingsland,

I should introduce myself first, I think. As you may, or may not know, I am Jimmy James, Owner, and CEO of Jimmy James Industries, one of the wealthiest persons in the Beatus. I am also an avid adventurer, and love seeing new places and lands. As such, I wish to visit yours, but not just to see your nation, not that that is not enough of a reason in of it self, but I also wish to attend the execution of this Marcellus Valens, as I am interested in how this public execution thing works, and I wish to meet with your leader. I hope this can be arranged.

Signed,
Jimmy James,
"The Man So Nice, They Named Him Twice"
CEO, Owner, Jimmy James Industries

http://i213.photobucket.com/albums/cc61/LordBelacqua/NationStates/Imperial%20Barronia/BBCUp.png

Ex-President Valens of Kahanistan Sentenced to Death

Original reporting by Veritas, the Doomani State-Sanctioned News Agency

Doomingsland, 23 February 2008 (USC)

In an expected release, Marcellus Valens, former president of Kahanistan was sentenced to death by burning today in the nation of Doomingsland.

In footage seen by the BBC and the Crown Government's Censor's Office, Valens appears to have been a recipient of torture, and appeared unaware of his situation, possibly as a result of the torture. His execution date has been confirmed as being in 7 days time.

The potential backlash from the government is expected to be harsh - the Emperor Maximus recently gave a speech in favour of slavery at the recent Theeb Accords event - a speech that incited several riots in Misenae and the surrounding area.

Similar demonstrations are expected in light of the death sentence - police are warning traffic to avoid Misenae City Central, and on the day of the demonstrations, public transport will be running Bank Holiday services, with CP escorts where necessary.

The CGCO has confirmed that any footage of the trial or the execution are classed Beta Four - for those not in the know, it is restricted to government and police official use, and contains scenes of extreme human suffering or violence. Anyone caught with possession of footage will face up to 4 years imprisonment and an unlimited fine.

http://news.bbc.co.ba/08/02/Doomld/237219.stm

New Masada, Capital of Kahanistan

Presidential Palace

President Nadia Sklenova took a Prozac and washed it down with a glass of water, breathing heavily as she read the report. She had to save the former leader - not only was he an honoured figure among Kahanistanian generals for his distinguished military record, but his son Julius was now the Vice President, and the Communist Party and the population at large would never forgive her if she stood by and did nothing.

Mindlessly, she pressed her empty glass against the water cooler in her office, refilling it and her body with the soothing liquid. Her warm grey eyes filled with tears as she struggled to think of what to do. What can I do? The Doomani had an uncanny ability to spot a covert insertion, and an invasion was out of the question even without the Treaty of Haversham - not only would the Doomani have the home field advantage, but the place had to be fortified as well as any Gholgoth power given its recent hostilities with Automagfreek, in which it had repelled a Freekish invasion. True, contrary to popular belief, the average Kahanistanian soldier was the equal of the average Doomani, but there were more of them and they had better stuff. Nuclear retaliation was also out - the Flames of the Holocaust might be good for a last-ditch strike to deny an enemy its ill-gotten gains, but in this situation it was not worth sacrificing hundreds of millions of lives.

Sklenova decided. She would have to meet with Maximus. Going to Doomingsland, however, was out of the question - if she went there, it could easily be her on a cross. Inviting Maximus to Kahanistan was only slightly less crazy - there were many, even among the Presidential Security Detachment, who would gladly kill Maximus to avenge their nation and their people, without regard for the geo-political consequences. She would have to meet him on neutral ground.

---

Official Statement of the Free Republic of Kahanistan

I would meet with the Doomani Caesar to discuss the fate of President and General Marcellus Valens, a great soldier of Kahanistan and a national hero to our people.

Because the differences between our nations preclude meeting on the national soil of either my nation or yours, I believe that such a meeting must take place on the soil of a neutral nation, one with no alliance to either power and no stake in this situation.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

The people of the Ba'ath National Command tend to be a finicky bunch who are rarely shy to wear their emotions on their sleeves. Following the rather deplorable announcement of the future execution of the former Kahanistani president, this generalization held true yet again. Imperial Police put their best estimates at around ten thousand protesters within the capital, leading right up to the Empress' gates. Her people demanded action. Although the Empress was certainly on the idealistic side of the spectrum, many of her interventionist policies only used their legalistic and moralistic explanations as cover for far more [i]realpolitik ones. Once again, this case proved to be no exception. As her country slid further and further towards a republic it was imperative that she maintain her status as a crucial part of the political system. Assuming the title of "peacemaker" would only assist her on that course.

Thus a message was sent in response to the Kahanistani's:

It is a statement of fact that the Ba'ath National Command lacks any feelings on land hunger and does not entertain any projects as regard the other nations of Dommingsland or Kahanistan, save such as are for their welfare. All this country desires is to see the neighboring countries stable, orderly and prosperous. In light of this recent announcement my personal feelings as well as those of the Largentian High Courts, and I quote "If the act, its tendency and the intent with which it is done are the same [speaking of the intent and the method of execution], we perceive ground for saying said act warrants a crime against humanity," it is the wish of this country to mediate this issue and see it resolved without the inhumane execution of a major political figure.

We do however swear to respect the sovereignty of both parties and the rights of their courts' decisions to be upheld. That being said, we do not promise to acknowledge the legality of judgments passed that infringe upon the basic human rights of individuals and/or violate laws whose jurisdiction go beyond national borders. However, it has been resolved that no force will be used regardless of the successes or failures of any arbitrated meeting and thus neither party need be concerned.

It is my personal hope that both sides will see reason here. President Valens has been accused of blasphemy but was it not a Pope's jingle that went "as the coin in coffer rings, the soul from Purgatory springs."

If both nations find our offer to mediate a discussion and assist both parties to engage in civilized discourse we will make our representation readily available on our soil at the time which both sides find agreeable.

~Empress Elwing Oronrà

A more personal note was sent to the Kahanistani in a far more discrete manner:

President Nadia Sklenova,

I feel it my obligation to express my deepest sympathies. We find the actions and rulings of the Imperial Grand Court sickening. On a more personal note, although my bias will prevent me from mediating personally I find any decision based on faith, especially christianity, to be deplorable. As the saying goes "Buddah rode in on a white elephant, Christ rode in on cannon balls."

May the inquisitors one day feel the fires they scentence their victims to.

~Elwing Oronrà
Empress of the Ba'ath National Command

(OOC: I love this puppet of mine because of its wackiness, Excellent Political Freedoms and Unheard of Civil Rights (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Totalitarian_democracy#Fundamental_requirements)... Totalitarian Fundamentalist Socialist Democracy including an Inquisition approved by referendum - http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13460976&postcount=176. The signature and this post also hint the sort of stuff they believe at and why they stay clear from the UN. Now the best I like from them is how they can't be called as either "the good guys"(but they believe they are doing all they do for a greater good) nor as "the bad guys". More in shades of grey than Black and White)

The news were sent in both Russian and English versions only to Prazinian citizens... they were the powderkeg for another burst of fanaticism they needed to further progress and stop the morose stagnation that was starting to happen in their economy.

Note: This is a Transcription from a Broadcasted News

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Коммунальная Телерадиовещательная Компания

Holy Prazinia Communal Broadcasting Company




Международные Новости

International News




Фашистская Империя Марионетки Антихриста Делает Новую Жертву!

Fascist Antichrist Puppet Empire Makes A New Victim!

Original news by the cynical and liar mouth of the Beast and of the False Prophet which dares to call itself "Veritas"(truth) in a sign of pure hypocrisy just like the Devil loves to do, another son of lies from the Antichrist and New World Order controlled international media and its worldwide conspiracy to bring the New Age of the one-world government of the Antichrist

Doomingsland, a prototype to the rule of the Antichrist in the darkest corners of Earth, conveniently disguised by the betrayers of Christ's words of faith: Catholicism of the Satanic Pope which thrones hold the upside down cross of the Antichrist and of Satan. Caution is required regarding the veracity of such news, Expect 99.9%(666 turned upside down) of lies and doublespeak in the word of the puppets of Satan's work

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The Truth About Catholicism, Doomani's or Not

Marcellus Valens, former president of the Republic of Kahanistan, a deviated, but still in parts true to the path of Christ by relying on a democracy rather than on a Satan's throne of tyranny and despotism, and by relying on socialism rather than on the seduction of the demon Mammon of capitalism, has endured horrible and gruesome brutality for the delight of Satan, who rules the One-world government prototype called Doomingsland from his Earthly throne, and now he shall be killed in the "name of God", to further the sinful, deceitful and traitorous nature of Doomani Catholicism, nothing but a facade for the prototype of Mystery Babylon and future Antichrist-worshiping cult making the grave sins of using His name in vain, of murdering an innocent and of delighting all EVIL through use of torture and unnecessary brutality.

We from the Holy Communal Broadcasting Company would ask to all of you who are asking to dedicate your next minutes to pray for Marcellus Valens, another victim of the Great Tribulation who now has his soul cleansed of all sins, refusing to accept of kingdom of the Antichrist. As always, the also Devil's owned United Nations did nothing to stop their secret allies from doing their work for Satan and for the Antichrist coming, for each innocent killed strengthens the power of Evil and fastens the time of the Apocalypse. But now I shall stop talking further and also pray for the soul of Marcellus Valens.

Holy Lord, I ask You to help Marcellus Valens to endure his tribulation until his final torment is over and his soul can finally meet with You. I ask Your presence to enlighten his heart and alleviate his suffering, to bring the Truth in his last moments, to save his soul from eternal nonexistence should he be a skeptic. I ask You to intervene in his aid, for he had endured too much already and I personally believe, with all humility, that he is ready to meet you in Heaven. And Lord, I ask You to enlighten the heart and alleviate the burden of all those under the great tribulation performed by the Doomani false prophets and tyrants, may the true martyrs meet with You. I ask You to enlighten we of Prazinia and all of true Christians and virtuous men of the world with wisdom to endure and stand in this dark world announcing the birth from the Antichrist from its unholy womb and the fulfillment of the prophecies of the Revelation. Give us strength to stand the tribulations that future shall inevitably bring, and to stand, in both peace and, when necessary, war, against evil in all its forms. For that is what I bring from my heart to You, in absolute faith You shall listen to my, and our humble request of bringing your presence closer in this world. And thus it shall be done.

WARNING: All children of the Lord must avoid bringing these local range news to international grounds to avoid threats of the fascist Satan's throne in Earth against our freedom. To deliberatedly spread our private beliefs in a world of war, famine and disease is to pre-order the mark of the beast and all those who ally to the Antichrist shall have only one fate: The Purge and eternal oblivion before or after the Final Battle of Megiddo.

------------------------------

A private message also was sent to Kahanistan, president Boris knew of the brutality, hypocrisy, immorality and savagery the world was going down into before, but those news served as a catalyst to justify further military funding and further a space program despite some resistance from the more fundamentalist sectors of society(which considering that Prazinia is already quite fundamentalist on average, basically means a level a fanaticism almost unbelievable to exist) to the idea of "going to Heaven". The R-360 "Final Judgment" program (http://www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/world/russia/r-36o.htm), a national secret, was immediately resurrected and the nuclear and conventional arms State-owned industry had a new "boom" of research and development, not literally of course.

A new surge of paranoia came upon, and it was lucky there was not a single sign of Doomingsland or Doomani Catholicism there, as soon the Inquisition started to do daily raids against secret New Age, Scientology, Neopagan and Wiccan cults and fanatical citizens totted AK-107s volunteering themselves to hunt "Antichrist Heathens". However there was nothing besides clean kills like before, no practices of torture happened, just summary executions of certain banned faiths... and now, following those news, Doomani Catholicism was also on the "Index of Satanic Religions of the False Prophet" of this strange tyranny by the majority that is the nation of Prazinia, although it was more of a mere formality than anything, because as of now there were 0% that followed that religion. The message readed as following, in English as Boris was fluent in it, transmitted through quantum cryptography to ensure its confidentiality:

President Nadia Sklenova,

I have not meet you personally, neither I have visited your nation, or, with no offense intended, what remains of it. I am not sure of your personal faith, but according to what I believe at, I have witnessed the great tribulation coming to you by the hands of one the Earthly thrones of tyranny under the rule of Satan that shall prepare the land for the coming Antichrist. I find it ironic they use the name of our Lord to commit acts that benefit evil and the enemy. I am Reverend Boris Mikanovich O'Brien, democratically elected president of the Holy Republic of Prazinia, which due to our preference of keeping to ourselves and rarely engaging into diplomacy, might not be of your knowledge that we exist, but I take no offense in that. I am personally offering my condolences for the action of Satan's puppet called Doomingsland against your nation's former president, and, humbly admitting I can do little besides this, I have personally prayed for the Lord help him to endure his last moments of tribulation and be granted safe passage to the kingdom of Heaven, and to be enlightened by the truth of the existence of God in his last moments should he be a skeptic, so he shall have as last fate an eternal paradise rather than nonexistence. And do not fear injustice, for one day Lord shall judge all those who hypocritically use His name to kill the pure of heart and innocent, with the fires that shall rain from sky and topple the kingdom of the Antichrist.

One day Doomingsland and all its fascists and false prophets shall be fated to eternal oblivion together with evil while the good-hearted shall be fated to Heaven. But while this day does not come, I am personally doing my best to fight against the impending evils that ravage this world: War, Famine and Disease, which announce the coming of the world government of the Antichrist.

For the Lord is judging and watching us, and it's not too late yet, but to change the tides, great sacrifices and tribulations shall come, but my people shall not cower in fear. I am personally offering you a mutual protection pact. Yes... Prazinia lacks the massive lengths and population of some of the worst empire the worst of mankind has brought with the manipulations of evil, but we are always ready for the worst. In 10 years our nation shall have full NBC capabilities for every single citizen, because it matter little to us the sacrifices we done to personal luxuries to attain such goal of being to survive even in nuclear war, an event that shall probably precede the nearing Apocalypse, and in a few years we shall finally bring results from our Navy... However we are not warlike. War itself is a work of evil, but sometimes, by remaining in peace we are just letting worser wars to continue happening, fortunately those times are not commonplace. With this in mind, I wish you to have a prosperous reconstruction effort...

But there is another impending subject I would like address, as I am aware of, your nation have, with no other choice remained, accepted to become a "protectorate" of the Mammon followers from Praetonia. And it is something which although I do understand the reasons for doing, I do not personally commend. I would like to know how such deal would influence a possibility of negotiating a MDP with your nation.

Finally in the end... the end of all days shall happen one day and all shall meet the Lord... and this life is not true life, the true life is the life of the spirit in the kingdom of Heaven, this is only a tribulation, and a decadent and immoral world that I wish that I would not have to see, but I cannot hide my eyes from truth, and the feeling of being powerless to change the tides sometimes saddens me, but I trust that one day the Lord shall bring a better world for our future generations.

All in all, I wish you good luck and may God bless you.

Boris Mikanovich O'Brien
President of the Holy Republic of Prazinia

The Kahanistani message, unfortunately for Valens, recieved no response. This was for a number of political reasons, first and foremost being that Doomanum simply did not recognize Kahanistan as a sovereign state: to respond to them on a diplomatic level would be to do just that, recognize them as being on an equal level. That simply would not do. There was also the fact that both Caesar and Magister Nuntiorum Gaius Quintus Livius were abroad and a little busy with the Third Theeb Accords. Then of course there was the fact that Maximus simply wouldn't meet with Sklenova even if he could respond to the message: he simply didn't feel like hearing what the Kahanistanis wanted to say!

If they wanted to try to get in contact with those in authority in Doomanum, the Kahanistanis would have to find an alternate channel. In the mean time, time was ticking away: Valens was sentenced to die exactly one week from the day of his sentencing, and the more they delayed, the less time Valens' countrymen would have to free him in any sort of way.

To the Government of Doomingsland,

I should introduce myself first, I think. As you may, or may not know, I am Jimmy James, Owner, and CEO of Jimmy James Industries, one of the wealthiest persons in the Beatus. I am also an avid adventurer, and love seeing new places and lands. As such, I wish to visit yours, but not just to see your nation, not that that is not enough of a reason in of it self, but I also wish to attend the execution of this Marcellus Valens, as I am interested in how this public execution thing works, and I wish to meet with your leader. I hope this can be arranged.

Signed,
Jimmy James,
"The Man So Nice, They Named Him Twice"
CEO, Owner, Jimmy James Industries

Official Communique

Of course Mr. James would be most welcome to attend the execution of the scum Valens. Consider this an official and cordial invitation on behalf of the Imperium to attend this momentous occasion. Mr. James is also welcome to bring whatever guests he may wish, and further tours can be arranged of the Imperium during his visit.

Sklenova had spent the night wondering how she could have forgotten to ask for the lives of the captive soldiers who were to be used in the "celebration," in the end blaming it on the numerous anti-depressants she was taking to keep together emotionally. She did not expect a favourable response, but in this day and age she knew that a few hours was more than enough time for some lowly Doomani pencil-pusher to respond to her.

The demonstrators outside the Presidential Palace waving signs reading, "Heroine of the Kravenites, where is our leader?" drove home to her the magnitude of her error. Valens may have been a poor politician, and at 72 was set in his ways, but he had been in the military since before Sklenova was born. (She was 33 years old.) As a commander, he had no equal in the Kahanistanian military, and was one of the few generals the major political factions all respected.

The Doomani refusal to recognise Kahanistan came as little of a surprise. Having been an Israeli breakaway state (even though over the years it had passed through medinat kol isracheha* and well beyond "Hebrew-speaking Greece"** to "English-speaking Babylon"), many still had the Israeli view of not wanting to be seen as the aggressor, but more relevantly, they also were used to their enemies not recognising their right to exist and spreading blood libels against them.

But their history was of little relevance at this point. President Sklenova decided to approach the Lord Protector of Kahanistan, His Majesty King George IV of Praetonia, for help. She had never wanted him as a protector, and had only aligned with him to save lives and keep the peace at any cost, but now she was glad he had forced himself down her throat...

---

Official Statement of the Free Republic of Kahanistan
Encryption Code Chi-5-Omicron-2-Xi

Your Majesty,

We have had our differences regarding internal and foreign policies on many occasions. Yesterday, it has come to the attention of the world that General Marcellus Valens, our 32nd President and one of the greatest generals of our age, is still alive. He and thousands of other prisoners of war are to be killed by the Doomani for actions that neither my government nor yours considers criminal.

I ask you as the protector of our interests to assist us in diplomatic manoeuvres with the Doomani to save the lives of our citizenry and our general. Such a move would improve the standing of Praetonia with the people of Kahanistan and soften all but the most extreme anti-Praetonian nationalists, by showing the good faith of the Crown Commonwealth and repatriating thousands of our citizens who would owe you their lives.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

---

*medinat kol isracheha - Hebrew, "[a] state [of] all [of her] citizens."
**Hebrew-speaking Greece - Israeli rightist term for a leftist, "assimilated" Jewish state, a reference to Eretz Yisrael*** under the rule of the Seleucid Greek Empire.
***Eretz Yisrael - Hebrew, the Land of Israel, as distinguished from the government that rules the land.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM TSRT GOVERNMENT
"Although we are by no means as... pious as the Government of Doomingsland, we still applaud bringing to justice the former president of the former nation of Kahanistan. This individual is responsible for the violation of the sovereignty of many, many respectable nationstates and we are glad that he will get his just come uppance."
End Message

Brettonian Ministry of Information
Official Statement - For Prompt Release

On behalf of the global struggle against the poison and discord of Bolshevism, Brettonia applauds the decision to remove a known revolutionary of backwardsness from the human gene pool. To our Doomani brethren, keep up the good fight! The specter of Marxist Domination is being snuffed out, one piece at a time.

-end-

Hand-written letter passed from the Praetonian High Commission to Kahanistan to the Presidential Palace

President Sklenova,

I share your concern for the fate of those taken prisoner from Kahanistan during the Kahani-Doomingsland War of this decade. As Protector of Kahanistan, I feel it is my duty, as well as a moral obligation, to interject on their behalf with the Doomani Government, with which I am aware that my word carries far more weight than that of your own government.

I believe that it may be possible to secure the return of some considerable number of those captured during the course of hostilities, and in doing so save them from the worst excesses of Doomani military justice. However I fear that the fate of the esteemed Marcellus Valens may be sealed. His civil conviction and sentence under Doomani law is almost certainly impossible to reverse except by pardon from the Doomani Caesar. For reasons of which you are no doubt aware, I fear this is highly unlikely to be forthcoming.

My thoughts and prayers are with those Kahanistani citizens who remain in Doomingsland and this time, and with the Kahanistani people who mourn for their lost compatriots.

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Hand-written letter passed from the Praetonian Embassy to Doomingsland to Caesar Maximus III

My Royal Brother,

I hope that you are well, and that Providence continues to treat your family and Realm kindly.

In light of the impending anniversary of my ascension to the throne of Praetonia, I would like to request that the traditional gift from Doomingsland this year take the form of a release to my care of as great a number as you deem agreeable of Kahanistani prisoners of war from the last conflict in Haven. I feel that in light of recent events, this act of Christian clemancy would prove agreeable to the interests of my Realm, and demonstrate the mercy of both of our Realms.

While I do not expect that their unfortunate leader will be among the number pardoned, I appeal on behalf of my Protectorate Peoples that at least no more violence than is necessary to fulfill the sentence handed down be inflicted at your command.

I look forward to our next meeting, and in the meantime pray that our two Realms continue to ascend in prosperity and power

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Aurum Domus National News

Former Kahanistani Leader To Be Executed; Aurum Domans Plan Viewing Parties

Former President Marcellus Valens was condemned to death by burning today by the Imperial Grand Court of Doomingsland. Valens led Kahanistan to their doom (no pun intended) several years ago during the conquest of Iudea by Doomingsland. The charges against him are basically the same Doomani craziness especially concerning the charge of illegally occupying the Holy Land. This hasn't stopped Aurum Domans, massive parties are being planned for the day of the execution. These parties are expected to be double the size of the ones held during the Doomingsland-Automagfreek War. The execution will be broadcast live on XtremeTV, with a cost of only 20 oros for the whole night, XTV is expected to make millions.

Maximus was still at the Theeb Accords when his PDA buzzed. Picking up the PDA, the screen lit up. It was a text message from the Citadel: they had forwarded a letter from his brother-in-law, the King of Praetonia. Knowing King George, this was no doubt regarding that fat smelly pagan his judge had senteced to death. Maximus rolled his eyes as a messenger handed him the message in a freakishly timely manner.

The envelope bore the seal of the Praetonian King, and thus it could not be mistaken. He tore it open and withdrew the letter. Maximus chuckled.

Whispering to a nearby aid, he spoke,

"Send His Magesty the King of Praetonia five hundred Kahanistanis as a gift from me, and make sure they're the properly broken kind. Also, commission a statue...gold and bronze and silver and such, gems and whatnot, a really nice one, for King George...a statue of him, I suppose, symbolizing our royal brothership and all that nice stuff. And make sure its really fucking tall!" Maximus dictated to the aid, who eagerly recorded his Imperator's command in his own PDA, "Kahanistanis are hardly a gift fit for a king, let alone the brother of my wife!' Maximus laughed aloud.

"Oh, and a few crates of good wine. Can't have a good ascension aniversery without booze now, can we?"

Sklenova wrote back to the king. She could not politically afford to be seen as giving up on Valens; she already had made enough enemies among the Nationalists by signing the Treaty of Haversham and ham-stringing Dragomir Karovic, the moderate Minister of Foreign Affairs. (He was moderate in the sense that his socialist leanings were not as strong as Sklenova's, and he had more nationalistic views.) She would continue her efforts until the general was actually dead, and then she would want his body returned.

My thanks are with you in these trying times, as are those of the people to be saved. General Valens is very important to us politically; I would ask that no avenue be left unexplored for the possibility of saving his life. Please keep me apprised of affairs and as involved as practically possible.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

---

Next, she'd have to write back to the other states who had contacted her - her stress made her feel like Valens' 310 pounds (though at the end of his captivity he likely weighed less than 200) were literally on her shoulders, as his life rested on them figuratively. If not for her antidepressant cocktail, she'd likely have killed herself or cracked under the pressure and broken down emotionally.

Empress Oronra, I thank you for your sympathies and your sentiments could be mine. I only wish these fires could come before we lose our citizenry.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

---

She now wrote back to the Prazinian reverend - it was not prudent to mention that Valens was literally a pagan, as in a polytheist. While the Doomani almost certainly knew that he was, so were the Zukaarians and they got along fine with the Doomani. Mentioning it, however, when she was trying her utmost to save him was not a smart thing.

Reverend O'Brien, I thank you for your condolences. If you are asking me for a mutual defence pact, I do not see what we can do - our forces are barely sufficient to defend ourselves and we are currently hosting many Praetonian, Kregaian and Axis Novan troops.

We are still reconstructing our nation, and searching for the balance of guns and butter. It is a terrible thing to take the people's food and trade it for weapons of destruction, but without defence we are dead anyway.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

---

She sent off the final letter, and returned home. Even as a politician, she would not take on a higher standard of living than she had had before taking office and be a "champagne communist," and continued to live in a middle-class apartment rather than the Presidential Palace, which was basically a heavily guarded office complex with the external appearance of a large house. Sklenova took a large bottle of 190-proof Everclear, drew a hot bath, and slipped into the water, drinking the bottle and letting her cares slip away for the night...

Kahanistan.

A nation ravaged several times over by many different nation-states, forcing the surviving population to flee to a new home, far away from their old home.

That old home lay just north of the Cottish border, and was still a radioactive wasteland. It had become a radioactive wasteland when the Doomanis employed nuclear weapons en masse against the Kahanistanis during the great war that had ravaged Haven. Cotland had been fortunate to be spared the fallout, thanks to the winds which had blown it away from Cotland, into the Strobvonian Strait.

Thanks to this providence from God, Cotland hadn't objected too fiercely when the Doomanis had destroyed Kahanistan and taken so many of its survivors prisoner. The already good relations with the Doomanis didn't help the Kahanistani cause much either. In the eyes of the Cottish, the Kahanistanis had brought this whole mess on themselves, and their leader had been President Marcellus Valens, the leader of Kahanistan. Since he was the leader, he had to accept the responsibility for what his people had done. And the Cottish were pretty certain that he wasn't quite innocent either.

While the ruler of Cotland - the King - didn't agree that all the charges were valid or justified, the terrorism charges and crimes against humanity charges were more than sufficient to condemn Valens. It was obvious that Valens had been tortured during his stay in Maximus' prisons, but that wasn't something the King frowned at, as torture was an acceptable interrogation method in Cotland. He was therefore confident that the Doomanis had given Valens as fair a trial as he could be expected to receive, which meant that the death penalty Valens had received was justifiable.

Satisfied, the King turned down the sound on the 50" flatscreen TV hanging from the ceiling and returned his attention to the report he had received on the expected figures in the Southwestern region's wine production.

Diplomacy. Diplomacy... Dip..Low..Mah..Sea... That is what it's called. No doubt about that. Islam. Iss-lahm not Iz-Lamb but Iss-lahm. Christianity. Too long to work out a phonetic translation... In any case...

Diplomacy (http://granitegrok.com/diplomacy.jpg)..Islam (http://img207.imageshack.us/img207/8391/3if6.jpg)..Christianity (http://bp3.blogger.com/_PdnZ8gzHzOw/RfnTae5vR8I/AAAAAAAAAF8/pV7MvEIZCSU/s1600-h/Cyber+Nun.jpg)... three words that do not mix together much better than battery acid and vodka without the expedient of massive quantities of baklava. Mmmm baklava. Good stuff. However soon there would be less baklava than usual... a dangerous (http://cache.gizmodo.com/assets/resources/2006/11/298566494_7c0f2d3fd7_o.jpg) occurrence indeed.

It wasn't often that the governments of Chechnya and Doomingsland conversed with one another.. There was a sizable diaspora of Kahanistanis living in southern Chechnya. The common joke was that the non suicidal portion of the populous immigrated to Chechnya before the war. And this was more or less true; baklava related deaths among Kahanistani Chechens were only less than a hundred per year. Baklava. (http://trekos.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/baklava-tr.jpg) Chechnya had not come to the aid of Kahanistan during its disastrous war with the Doomani years ago. It had been to busy fighting smaller conflicts of its own throughout the continent. Then there was the withdrawal of all forces stationed abroad back home after the fall of Yeltsmin to prepare for the invasion. In any case.. Chechnya had always been on good terms with the Kahanistani and its relations with the Doomani were little more than strictly business.

If there was one thing that Chechnya had which the Doomani loved it was Mediterranean and Middle Eastern food. The good stuff. Spicy Spicy... and Baklava.. lots of it. There was so much foreign demand for the food that there was a whole private sector committed to the export of food particularly to Doomingsland. To many it was their livelihood. And there would be repercussions...

http://www.epier.com/store/outpostflags/ItemImages/85_chechen_republic_seal.png

The Republic of Chechnya

Official Diplomatic Communique

to the Imperium Doomanum

The Republic of Chechnya strongly condemns the execution of the former Kahanistani President Marcellus Valens by being set aflame as a disgusting and barbaric act. The trial is seen as a farce and one done only for publicity and formality. In response, if former Kahanistani President Marcellus Valens is executed in this method the Republic of Chechnya will hereby place a one month embargo on the Imperium Doomanum on all Chechen food exports and all Doomani exports into Chechnya.

This will be effective immediately. The Chechen embassy in Doomingsland will no longer be selling Baklava to Doomani officials and civilans.

P.S. As a result of the above, "Free Sabbath Baklava Sundays" at the Chechen embassy will be postponed until further notice.

Signed,
Prime Minister Ibrahim Karacay

And so it was done. At once the public outcry began. People in Chechnya didn't give a shit about Valens, well ok maybe some did, many hated him for screwing over Kahanistan but that was besides the point. Many people would be out of work without the insanely massive quantities of food eaten by the Doomani.

And the riots ensue... (http://viviansalama.files.wordpress.com/2007/08/dsc03018.jpg)
A lotta pissed off people goin' "wtf" (http://www.bostonnow.com/content/2007/05/01/untying_turkey/0502_DIA_Turkish%20protest_F.jpg)

'course it wasn't as if any of it mattered... Chechnya was being invaded by the Kregaians at the moment anyway.. really random if you ask me...

http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c140/berrik/ANLogoLarge.jpg

Press Release, Axis Nova Office of Foreign Affairs, Kahanistan Branch

As usual, the hypocrisy of the APOC alliance is breathtaking. "Advancing the cause of civilization", indeed-- for so long as barbarian regimes such as that of Maximus IIIs remain in existence, the cause of civilization is damaged, and not improved.

Even the perfidious Kravenites treat their prisoners of war better. Of course, being a nation of slaves and slavemasters is sure to dissolve the morals and intellect of any man.

The days flew by without any official word from the Imperial Government; advertisements for the execution appeared bi-hourly on Doomani television stations, and there were always reminders on the news, both in the newspapers, on the internet, on TV, and even on the sides of buildings in Doomani cities. A certain feeling of excitement was in the air: it wasn't everyday the execution of a national leader was shown on such a level. Viewing parties were planned and seats in the Coliseum had long been sold out. It wasn't so much a political event as much as the Doomani equivelent of the superbowl.

With the Theeb Accords finished, Maximus flew back home to the Citadel, just a few days away from the execution. He had already commissioned an ash tray to be made from Valens' skull.

However, rumors had leaked out from within the Citadel regarding King George's yearly gift: Veritas was reporting that along with a magnificent statue, the king would also recieve a number of Kahanistani slaves in honor of the anniversery of his ascension to the throne. Details regarding just how many were to be sent were left out however, and nobody in Doomanum really seemed interested in pursuing the matter further. After all, it really wasn't anyone's business other than the members of the united royal family.

As with all forms of so called "legal" and non-legal execution, Honako highly condemns this barbaric and uncivilised practice. The Honakon National Television Board has hereby banned all footage of the execution from being shown on TV, with broadcasters facing a $5,000,000 fine if footage is obtained, and double that at least if shown. The footage has been listed of Grade 2 level, and therefore citizens found in procession face the normal punishment for obtaining banned goods at the second highest level, up to a $200,000 fine and the possibility of five years imprisonment.

Adam Wincenty let out a loud, hacking cough, disrupting the silence of his office. His chest had lately been fiery and clogged, an early result of the myeloproliferative disease that was quickly morphing into nearly-undetectable acute myelogenous aleukemia. He'd be dead within a year. With Ennuisian/Doomani relations as strong as they were, he had to send a representative. With the internal situation the way it was, there was only one man to send. He picked up the phone.

"Swietoslaw speaking."

"Good morning director."

"Good morning, Sir. What can I do for you?"

"Well Tom, the Doomani are executing Kahanistan's old president, and you are the highest ranking member of the government who is free at the moment. I'd send someone from the State Department, but I figure the execution might be more up your alley than Klara's."

"Indeed Sir, when do I leave?"

"Whenever you are able. We'll double the usual budget, get some nice souvenirs while you’re over there."

"Thank you, sir."

With that, Adam wrote a letter to the Imperium.

To: Office of the Magister Nuntiorum
From: The Office of the Arch Arsonist
Re: Delegation

With the domestic situation as it is, I am unable to attend the "putting down" of Ex-President Valens. I am, in my stead, sending Tomas Swietoslaw, loyal servant of the Republic and director of the State Security Administration. He will come bearing gifts. Send my regards to Ceaser.

-Adam Wincenty
Arch Arsonist of Mer des Ennuis
General of the Home Guard
"Fear Ensures Loyalty!"
"All Glory to the Hypnotoad!"

The next day, a young man in the black military uniform of Kahanistan Military Intelligence entered President Sklenova's office.

"Ms. President," said the man. "I am Major Yaakov Feinberg, Military Intelligence. General Kaselev regrets that he cannot be here himself, but sent me."

"What news do you have?" asked the President. Gone was the attractive blonde of a few days earlier; in her place was a haggard, tired woman who looked like she'd been awake for days trampling through the Doomani wastelands. "Were you able to get any information regarding the refugees?"

"Negative, Ms. President," said Major Feinberg. "Given what we've been reading on our satellites, what with posters and crap all over Doomingsland... getting them to cancel that exe.... er, murder... is like asking us to cancel L.G.B.T. and Allied Pride Day or a Muslim country to cancel the Hajj. There's so much hype running that if it were canceled there'd be riots. You think the riots we have are bad, imagine a few hundred million angry Doomies who don't get their blood fix."

"Enough of what you can't do," said Sklenova irritably. "What are our options?"

"Well..." said the Major. "We can offer greater concessions to the Praetonians and hope they'll put more pressure on the Doomies, but we'd likely end up handing over our sovereignty and the bastards won't risk pissing off the Doomies. I wouldn't consider it. We could send in a stealth bomber, hit the prison and knock a hole in the wall, drop some arms over in hopes of a Warsaw or Sobibor type revolt, but we don't know where the prison is... if they're as smart as we are, it's underground, where our sats and primitive GPR can't find it. Besides, it would certainly provoke a war, and one in which we'd be dependent on the Axis Novans and Kregaians to protect us - neither of which we trust."

Things were starting to look like shit. Sklenova picked up a half-empty bottle of wine and threw it across the office. Broken glass and red wine slid down the wall and both were sprayed.

"There is a third option," said Feinberg, nonplussed. "I'll make some inquiries at the Praetonian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and see what I can do about getting protectorate citizens Praetonian passports. A team of operatives going in as Praetonians may stand a slim chance of infiltrating successfully, and Praetonia gets left holding the bag if the plan goes belly-up."

"If you can't think of a better option..." Sklenova replied grimly, "I'd say we'd have to go with it. I'll want to talk to General Wincenty of Mer des Ennuis... before the last war he did seem interested in good relations with us, but now is a bit too Doomie-friendly for my liking."

---

While Major Feinberg had a secretary at the Kahanistanian M.F.A. making inquiries at the Praetonian Ministry of Foreign Affairs about getting a few people Praetonian passports (to cover his tracks and those of Military Intelligence), Sklenova wrote to Wincenty. She did not know of his current ill health...

General Wincenty, I have heard much about your interest in relations with Kahanistan, though I know little of what may have changed in the last few months.

You likely do not know much of me, but you have met a close friend of mine at a ball in Hataria. I trust I find you in good health and spirits. How goes your government's foreign relations?

I would schedule a meeting with you one day when the current unpleasantness in our nation is resolved, we hope in a peaceable way.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

-Montauk-
"Pathetic," Slavik said sighing and turning off the screen. "Those Doomingland bastards make even the most extreme of extremists look like wusses."
"They're 'stealing our thunder' so to say?" said the pilot. *click* "Were you asked to make jokes." a third voice said pointing a .45 pistol at the driver. "No Miss." he said going back to his work.

"So do you have any ideas?" The woman said looking towards her leader.
"Yes I believe I do Oxanna, what better way to prove our superority than to kidnap the Former President ourselves..." "Sounds risky, but go on," she said.
"Of course it's risky," Slavik said, "But if that doesn't work, we can still always kill him before they can burn him, Imagine the disappointment when they realize they aren't going to get their killing fix."
"The sweet sweet taste of lost blood lust?" The Pilot said, *Knock* A quick pistol whip from Oxanna shut him up.

"Be sure to send someone to the gates of the Presidential Palace with a message outlining our first goal." Slavik said. "Yes Sir." she replied.

ODIM Imperial Headquarters, Urbus Doomanus

Of course, Valens was being held captive in the third most heavily defended compound in the city (after the Citadel and Papal Fortress respectively), ODIM's Imperial Headquarters, which was the best equipped facility to keep a high value prisoner in the city. ODIM, or the Ordo Lictorum, was Doomanum's 'civil' secret police (although technically speaking ODIM was Doomanum's military intellegence apparatus); where the Inquisition enforced God's law, ODIM enforced Caesar's law, both at home and abroad (having both internal counter-intellegence and counter-terrorism units and external intellegence and army special forces units under its command). It was a matter of practicality that this was the third most heavily defended facility in the city: it was responsible for the tracking of all domestic and foreign citizenry (and slaves, of course) within the city (the largest in the Imperium at some fifty million people) via their mandatory RFID tags as well as being the control nerve for every other city and every foreign operation under ODIM's juristiction. That said, it was a very large facility, although few foreigners actualy knew what this particular fortress within the city limits was responsible for: as far as most people knew, it was another Imperial Guard strongpoint for defending the city in the event of an invasion.

Like the city around it, ODIM's HQ (located on the located on Insula Claustrum, the only true island within the city, which was in fact built on an artificial lake constructed during the reign of Maximus' father) was a fortress of pure magnificence and extravagance: with forty foot-high marble-plated concrete outer walls and a number of aestetically pleasing sixty foot-high guard towers (equipped with 37mm automatic cannons in remote mounts), the 'outer' interior (that is to say the surface of the fortress) consisted of a winding catacomb of ramps and passageways leading to the central citadel, which towered two hundred feet above the surrounding area, overlooking the waters around the Insula Claustrum. The exterior of the fortress was a beautiful sight to behold; however it was deep within the bowels of the fortress where things actualy got done.

The Kahanistanis were correct in believing that Valens was being held underground: two hundred feet below ground in fact, in the detention wing of the fortress (anyone looking at the city with ground penetrating RADAR or infrared would see nothing remarkable in this facility, however; the entire city was honeycombed with underground bunkers). He rotted alone in a small, cold, tidy 4x4 foot cell, an improvement over his cell in the Sanguinarium which was at least half a foot smaller on both ways. The food was better at this facility as well, and he had yet to be physically tortured at this place. However, as with the Sanguinarium, his arms and legs were restrained to make it physically impossible for Valens to hurt or kill himself.

Adam groaned in pain. He sat at his desk in a pair of PT shorts and a Grey “ARMY” T-Shirt. His leg… what was left of it, throbbed in pain as it did almost every day. It was enough to drive a man mad. The servos of the titanium monstrosity that made locomotion possible also made Adam feel like a terminator on a good day, let out quiet, mechanical clicks as he used it to push himself back. Now 57, he was getting old. Twenty years ago as a Captain he might have managed, but not much longer. The old teletype came to life, the message being routed from the State Department to his office.

General Wincenty, I have heard much about your interest in relations with Kahanistan, though I know little of what may have changed in the last few months.

You likely do not know much of me, but you have met a close friend of mine at a ball in Hataria. I trust I find you in good health and spirits. How goes your government's foreign relations?

I would schedule a meeting with you one day when the current unpleasantness in our nation is resolved, we hope in a peaceable way.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

He grunted again, both from the constant pain that went from dull to hellish in a few seconds and without warning and from understanding. He hadn’t followed Kahanistani foreign affairs in nearly six years when the navy sold its excess Dreadnoughts and obsolete ships. Since then, he attempted to kill a head of state, was nearly killed by the same head of state, waged a war against an entire alliance, and won without firing another shot. He pulled a translucent cylinder labeled “Rx Oxycodone” and popped a pill. It didn’t work in the thirty seconds he was willing to give it, and took another. That took the edge off.

“Allright Adam, get it together” he said as the wonderful haze began to slowly take the edge off. He jingled the bottle, and enjoyed the slight rattling sound. He shuffled forward, servos clicking all the way. He settled at his computer, and started pounding out a message.


To: Nadia Sklenova
From: Adam Wincenty
Re: Salutations

Greetings, President of Kahanistan!

Thank you for your unexpected, but not unwelcome letter. Indeed, it has been many years and a leg ago that we were rid of those leviathan hulks, and even more since I graced the wooden floors of a god-forsaken hellhole known as Hataria with, I believe, a fair woman named Rachel. And it was fantastic.

I’m afraid much has changed since then. In following my conscious conscience, I was regrettably the victim of an assassination attempt most vile, which lead to a more-or-less bloodless war. I’m told that it was in all the papers, or so I’m told it was. None the less, I must congratulate you on extending the olive branch of peace and friendship. It’s been a while since I’ve received such an email.

Adam started to feel what he thought was pain in his leg, so he threw back three more. When he placed it back down, the rattling sound was severely diminished.


I am reminded of my visit to Kahanistan many years ago. Your nation had the most wonderful plum pudding. I must get the recipe from you sometime; it was absolutely delightful and splendiferous! I seem to recall some of the ingredients from when I asked the chef, a thoroughly ponderous porcine of perfection. I believe I wrote some of the ingredients down, and I hope you will indulge me and check some of these for me… ah yes, here,

He wrote this while picking up a blank ream of loose-leaf he kept in his desk, which an environmental report had been mixed in, along with several other documents he had knocked around as well.


I seem to have written that it requires a pound of fresh Kahanistani plums, ripe, fifteen large eggs, crackers, fish candies, fish flavored methylethylbenzoate, a quarter bushel of twizzlers, fresh volitale organic compounds, lemon juice, decaying beta particles, a power drill, malted decaying beta particles, skin grafts, a rhubarb, a flaming rhubarb, three gallons of liquid boronate, a tweezer, an elephant tusk, three egg yolks and a cup of sugar, and Isaac Hayes.

Sadly, it has been a while since I’ve had such wonderful pudding, for all is not well over here. In so many ways, my country is experiencing the best of times, yet also the worst of times. Our universities are eraing in an era of wisdom, yet the Senate is full of bumbling fools. Our citizens are experiencing an epoch of belief, yet the papers are filled with incredulity. This, is, afterall, a new spring of light, yet a winter of darkening despair. While this might sound overly Dickensian, nothing is more apt to describe my current state. The senate, as you my dear queen, must know all too well, is full of backstabbing malcontents who would crucify us all if it meant they could suckle more milk from the teat of power.

For reasons beyond me, the people have elected a new fiend who reminds me of Benjamin Disraeli. I informed him of this fact, but he only looked at me strange, but didn’t seem to mind that I kept calling him ‘Senor Disraeli’ as it were. We argued at great length over cod-fishing regulations in the greater Baltic sea, and it became heated. Unfortunately, that wondrous somniferous man was quite the eloquent elocutionary, and we continued at some length.

The now empty Rx soon found itself hurling through the air across the room from the somewhat delirious Arch Arsonist.


Mister Disraeli and I, though I don’t care for him much, took a break shortly afterwards, and went to the zoo, and had a splendid time. I saw the most marvelous zebra there, can you believe these equines have stripes? How do they do that? It doesn’t make any sense! Much like the Guggenheim or the Clandonian species, it simply boggles the mind as to how such an occurrence could occur. I mean, like, how… how… how are they… how are they doing that? I just don’t get it. They took a perfectly good white horse and completely fucked it up by rolling it in some shoodily applied wet tar. Why? I, It just, it, it, it, it, it just doesn’t, why is it striped? How? I mean, like, it is in grass, right? But I can, like, how is it, see, see it somehow. What is the point of the stripes? They, they, they just don’t do anything! I really don’t, it DOESN’T MAKE SENSE! I… this is a conversation worthy of another day.

Perhaps, Madame President, you would be interested in having a conversation at some indeterminate date aboard a yacht of some sort, be it land, sea, or air. I am sure there is much to discuss, and time is of the essence. The last time I was on a yacht, I read the works of that Mick Guinea Wop John Milton, fascinating fellow. Apparently he developed some kind of palsy or tremor, though I suspect he had some dreadful humors, probably from long-term exposure to the discovery channel. His epic work “Sister Sister” certainly is an enthralling yarn, and I highly recommend it to anyone who is looking for something more pithy than his other dime store novel “paradise lost. ”


By now Adam’s computer struggled to keep up with the ramblings, and the autocorrect option was fixing nearly every word. The narrator gives props to whoever manages to go through what the narrator imagines are around twenty doses of Oxycodone.


I must lastly inform you that I have discovered the square root of the number thirty-six. The implications of this discovery, that of the number sixteen, are enormous. Take, for example, my hair. It is so wonderfully soft, as if an ovine has taken residence upon my cranium, and it fits my hat quite nicely.

I believe, however, that I must close this discourse for the time being, as more important matters have come to my attention. Apparently some ragged fellow is going to be sent to his end by the Latinists, and I seem to recall that it will be an outrageous spectacle of grandeur proportions. Some man in a funny dress is supposed to be present. I have apparently been invited to attend, and I relish the chance to escape the claws of that traitorous Disraeli fellow. I should have him liquidated. Miserable Praetonian that he is. Anyway, I believe this circus show would be a fine time for us to meet for some of this diplomacy business.

I suppose now is the time that I might ask what it is that I can do for you.


Adam looked wobbly around the room for a time, before his gaze settled on two objects.


Please accept these as gifts, as they are very special to me, and will help if you get hungry.

Very cordially yours,
Adam Wincenty
General of the Home Guard
Arch Arsonist of Mer des Ennuis
“Fear Ensures Loyalty!”
“All Glory to the Hypnotoad!”

Adam took the printout and stuffed it haphazardly into an evenlope. He took a half-eaten blueberry muffin, and crammed it into the envelope. He stumbled over to his liquor cabinet, where a bottle of single-malt scotch sat elegantly, it’s dark brown glass shimmering. He opened it, and poured the bottle in, shaking beyond every last drop. He looked at it confusedly, before tossing it over his shoulder. He stumbled to the door of his office, holding the floor for support the entire way, and threw the soggy envelope out in the general direction of his secretary.

“Wait! E-mail is faster” he exclaimed after staring at the ceiling for a minute. He scrambled as fast as his semi-cyborg body would carry him to his desk, and slapped the keyboard until it disappeared, apparently having been sent. He took a bottle of scotch, and stared at the computer, then back at the scotch. He slowly poured it over the black casing as best as he could, and it began to spark. A cinnamon-apple muffin that was sitting besides his fountain pens found itself crammed into the CD drive. The paramedics found him passed out three minutes later. The message would circulate around the Army Signal Corps for years.

The idiocy of the Doomani government had reached it's peak, and the Allanean Congress, finally outraged, overrode Kazansky's veto.

Now known as the Marcellus Valens Act, the new bill removed Allanea from ACID.

Such was the call of the Congress.

Kazansky himself seemed to mind even less that his veto was overridden – after all, if the Doomani were keen on acting like losers, who cared about them as allies?

Official Clandonian Response
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/madnukedude/clandoniansmallflag.png
Open Declaration:

His Majesty's Government fully supports the Doomani administration in the judicial process relating to the prosecution of former Kahanistani President Valens for the crimes found guilty of. This government is satisfied that the former leader was given a fair trial and no bias was used in the final verdict. His Majesty's Government refuses to interfere in the judicial process of another sovereign nation under its applicable laws of the land and acts of statute. I personally urge the Kahanistani administration to control itself in regards to this manor for the sake of what remains of the Kahanistani people, you are in no position to achieve a release without sacrificing and spilling more of your peoples blood.


God Save the King


Prime Minister Sir David Sistilin



In Clandonia itself few people cared about Kahanistan, they saw the future of the nation as a embodiment to the spread and development in Clandonian imperial interests and the might of the Royal Navy. Clandonians would probably see it live on the news or something similar, many could not understand the censorship by the Bolshevik tyrannies of Baronia and Honako. The Doomani and Clandonian Royal Familys were connected and many Royalists were very vocal in support for Doomingsland, several thousand Clandonians were expected to venture to Doomingsland to watch the execution live. Foreign Minister Sir Alan Philips was to go to Doomingsland as official representative of the Crown due to King William on a hunting trip on the day.

In anticipation for the event special commemorative plates and nick nacks were made celebrating the execution of the communist leader, several trillion Crowns were expected to be made selling merchandise and for food and drink sales on the day of the execution with billions of Clandonians round the world expected to watch it.

-Montauk-
"Pathetic," Slavik said sighing and turning off the screen. "Those Doomingland bastards make even the most extreme of extremists look like wusses."
OOC:You, sir, have been sigged! >.>

Mer: You win Nationstates. Congradulations.

Meanwhile a new email made the rounds on the woven strands of the intertubes...

hello.
From the mail I wrote to you, you may be wondering why should such a mail come to you. I am sorry for any inconveniences this may cause you but I believe that is how it has been destined by nature that we should meet. By reading my mail, I know you will understand that I am son of ex-president valens of kahanistan currently in hiding in glorious nation of Clandonia. i have 50 billion dollars in bank which I packaged in a box kept in my house, yes the money belongs to the bank but I do not want to disclose this money to the bank because of what they are trying to do to me. I kept it in my house planning how to take it outside the country to start a new life with my family.
of Mugu Owandia but proles wish to steal it. please send me your contact (tel and fax #, post office name etc) so we may work things out.

This is to enable me forward the in formations to the diplomat to deliverthe cargo to your house, then when I am through with the officials here by then you would have retrieved the cargo from the diplomats.Please I believe in you and my whole life depends on this money.
in jesus name i bless ooooooooooo cat bingo

Sklenova opened a letter from Mer des Ennuis smeared in weird gunk the next day. Wiping it off, she smiled and burst out laughing - she needed it, given the last few days were absolute hell on her. She had not yet heard from Major Feinberg - the last time she'd called, he'd told her he hadn't heard anything from the secretary at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs he'd had make inquiries with the Praetonians about getting Praetonian passports for protectorate citizens, and she felt sick waiting while the Praetonians responded... or not. Valens could easily be a seven-foot tall piece of charcoal by the time she got information. Sklenova continued reading Wincenty's letter.

Is he insane, or on drugs? What is he talking about? She didn't think Wincenty had ever been to Kahanistan, and she didn't know how to make plum pudding. He had to be on some kind of drugs - if he were crazy they wouldn't be able to cover it up. She did not believe a sitting head of government should get drugged up and create an international spectacle, though she did drink alcohol when under extreme stress (which had been most of her administration) or at special occasions.

---

Official Statement of the Free Republic of Kahanistan

The Government of Kahanistan is not involved in the business of running financial scams. Should one receive a letter purporting to be from me or another member of my family, it is more likely someone trying to swindle money.

I am not hiding in Clandonia or any other Doomani ally, but sit right here in my office and have no intention of going into hiding. I remain here in New Masada with my children and urge people to pay no attention to this vile hoax which seeks to exploit the murder of my father.

Signed,
Julius Sextus Valens,
Vice President of Kahanistan

---

Official Statement of the Free Republic of Kahanistan

Mr. Sistilin, I am very dismayed by the attitude of your government. Our nation has undergone massive hardships following invasions initially sparked when we inserted operatives into occupied Clandonia to verify that Whyatica was respecting the human rights of the occupied people. Mr. Valens certainly cared about the human rights of the Clandonians, and undoubtedly allowed himself to believe that the Doomani would not molest him when he signed the surrender treaty after the war.

While we oppose the death penalty in principle, we do not, as you say, intervene in the judicial process of sovereign nations. The judicial process of sovereign nations applies to crimes commited by citizens of those nations abroad, or by non-citizens within the territory of said nations. It does not apply to non-citizens outside the internationally recognised jurisdiction of such nations.

You ask us to control ourselves. Our Vice President is the son of the condemned, and the elder Mr. Valens, while having his detractors in the political arena, is a revered figure among our people; having over fifty years of military service, he is one of our most illustrious generals. We will not give up until he is actually dead, Heaven forbid.

Signed,
Dragomir Karovic,
Minister of Foreign Affairs

Official Announcement of the Government of the United States of Allanea:

As of 7:00 AM today, the County Court of Vascilia County, Liberty-City, had issued arrest warrants for the entire staff of the Clandonian and Doomani embassies in Allanea, to be carried out by the Copyright Enforcement Company – the enforcement branch of the Records Industry Association of Allanea – due to the performance of illegal downloads by embassy staff. It is possible other charges will be brought against the staff at a future time, such as civil rights charges.

This has nothing to do with the withdrawal of Allanea’s embassy in Doomingsland, and all of it’s 3 personnel.

* * *

Within half an hour of the ruling, the buildings of bother embassies were surrounded by large T-80 and Nakil 1A1 series tanks, painted dark-blue and marked with the RIAA markings. There were also IFVs, and black-suited personnel pointed a whole forest of rifles, machineguns, anti-tank weapons into the windows of the embassies.

“We have a fucking warrant, motherfuckers! We are sending in a copy of the warrant now.”

A robot – a bomb-disposal drone, in fact – in front of each embassy – would advance in and deliver the warrants – listing meticulouously every man, woman, and being within them for arrest, and all computers within them for search.

It was good to live in a country that recognized no diplomatic immunity.

* * *

In the meanwhile, various bloggers began to post, on the internet, that they would give rewards to those who sabotaged or crashed the Internet sites or communications of Doomani companies. An ‘anonymous donor’ even announced a 100-million-dollar price for the most successful anti-Doomani online prank.

Now if only the HURDists got wind of that one…

Questarian Embassy, Liberty City

"Bloody hell!" The ambassador to Allanea peeked out the window, watching the crowds of RIAA shocktroopers about to burst into the Clandonian and Doomani embassies. This simply wouldn't do. Albert Thatcher was a small man at 5'6, and quite stocky, but he was a patriotic Questarian, and as he looked up at the picture of King Alexander II above the doorframe and the two folded Questarian flags, a sense of pride and purpose swelled up in his heart. Ordering all embassy staff to immediately rendezvous, within a minute he was addressing almost forty odd people, some only just woken up after expecting a long lie in.

"I've just heard news that the Clandonian and Doomani embassies are about to be breached by Allanean police. This simply will not do! We may just be embassy staff, but by God, our duty to our friends and allies Mr Moore, ring up the Zepper's and Praetonian embassy at once! Tell them the situation, and tell them if they want to aid us, to be ready outside their grounds in three minutes, armed as best they can. I intend for us to defend our allies, whatever the cost. Who is with me?"

All twenty eight of the male staff of the embassy cheered, including the elderly Richard Jones, a senior diplomat who had been placed in Allanea for his last two years, who shook his fist in the air. "Those cheeky buggers! They don't like it 'up em!"

Within two minutes, the embassy group was waiting quite timidly, armed as best they could, with one standard bearer with a large union jack on a pole. They waited for the Praetonians and Zeppers to appear before making a move on the ever-threatened Doomani and Clandonian embassies.

Aequatian Embassy, Liberty City, Allanea

The tone of the telephone's ring sharply surprised Ambassador Thomas Kirkus as he reached over the desk and pressed the speaker button being the only one in the office, "Tom, why have the Allaneans made yet another bad decision?" Barked President Reid's voice, noticably irritated, "I'm working towards peace and this asshole Kazansky is letting shit like this happen?"

"Mister President," Kirkus started, "There's nothing we can do, this is an affair between the Allaneans and--"

"This affects us just as much as any other NATO state," Reid interrupted the ambassador, "Now fucking do something about this, get them to back off or we're looking at a real shit storm," The president hung up as Kirkus recovered from the conversation and called in the embassy's chief of security, Marine Captain Jason Moore, to his office. The officer was already wearing the full combat kit and had his personal arms ready as were the rest of the two score marine detachment at the embassy.

"Captain, I want you and a group of your marines to go down to the situation at the Doomani embassy and put an end to this farce, even if you have to detain the Allaneans in front of the media," Explained Kirkus, "I'll leave you to the details, dismissed."

The platoon-sized element of twenty two marines assembled in the front courtyard of the embassy, armed with the usual infantry small arms in addition to the added firepower of a Command Launch Unit and a handful of FGM-330 Halberd anti-tank missiles. The detail was also accompanied by a Navy Lieutenant-Commander from the ARN Judge Advocate General's Corps to ensure that if the marines had to detain the Allanean authorities, that it was done in the most legal processes possible. As soon as they were prepared, the group embarked aboard their M1296 "Stallion" utility vehicles, led by a pair of M89 "Cerberus" armoured cars through the streets of Liberty City towards their first destination, the Doomani Embassy where the Allanean CEC was going well-beyond the reach of their authority.

The vehicles came to a stop within view of a group of the CEC officers and one of the Nakil 1A1 tanks parked along the perimeter of the Doomani embassy. Captain Moore stepped down out of the Stallion jeep and pulled the charging handle back on his MP140 submachinegun and let it hand over his chest on its strap as he, along with the Navy JAG officer, walked forward, "Overwatch, keep that Habby aimed for that Nakil and knock it out if it makes a move!" He shouted back to the marines as the weapon operator locked onto the tank's infrared signature. Wearing the clean, khaki service Navy uniform and officer's peaked cap, the military lawyer walked alongside the combat-loaded marine captain as they approached the Allaneans, "Who's in charge here?" Shouted Moore as he came to a stop about thirty metres away from the Nakil and the officers around it.

Embassy of the Federal Republican Duchydom of Franberry, Liberty City, Allanea

Ambassador Enrique Montenegro was idly throwing darts against a picture of the Juumanistran President, Brent Warshire, his lovely secretary recording the score as accurately as the aim of the Ambassador. That is to say, not very, as Enrique had managed to send a dart through the window and gotten another stuck on the desk below the picture. This most delightful and patriotic activity, however, was interrupted by Gen. Adolfo Perez, the military attache at the embassy.

"Señor Embajador, we have a bit of a problem..."

Enrique sighed loudly, waving vaguely to his secretary, indicating her to leave the room. She got up and promptly left, not a simple task, considering her excessively tight skirt, which was long as is proper when concerning a lady.No one could accuse the ambassador of not being a gentleman, or his secretary of dressing improperly. "Adolfo, what is it now?"

"The Allaneans are arresting the staffs of the Doomani and Clandonian embassies."

"What?"

"Yes, they've also parked tanks outside and there are infantry soldiers all over the place. The Questarians have already exited their embassy, armed, but cautious."

"I don't believe this." Enrique twirled in his chair and rolled loudly towards the window. Once there, he lifted the curtains, and much to his shock, verified what Adolfo had just said with his very own eyes. "Well, this is an outrage! We cannot stand for this!"

"I concur sir."

"What forces do we have at our disposal?"

"The uh, 14 guards as normal, and myself."

"Well, do we have enough arms to equip every male on the staff?"

"Yes sir, we have plenty of that. If we were to do that, I think we could get about 50 men out on the street."

"Excellent! Bring out all the uniforms, weapons and munitions you can. Leave me now as I have to make an urgent call and get changed into my uniform."

"Yes sir, thank you sir." And with those words Adolfo exited the room, eager to do his best in helping out his fellows in the diplomatic community, yes, even the Clandonians.

Enrique rolled the chair noisily back to the desk, and opened a drawer under lock and key. He took an old black telephone from it, and laid it upon the desk. He disked a long series of numbers into the phone, and then spoke into the mouthpiece. "This is the Ambassador to Allanea, Enrique Montenegreo. Diplomatic Corps Serial Number: 200034751; Security Code: 109222PLL; Communication Number: 9833892; Clearance level: 8J. Yes, of the utmost urgency, as soon as possible." Enrique waited eagerly, silent, yet listening with all of his attention poised at the ear piece. "Your Most Democratic Excellency, Mr. President, I believe I must inform you of the current situation in Allanea. They will possibly take military action against the Doomani and Clandonian Embassies. Yes sir, I have already taken that course of action. I believe that if there is violence on the part of the Allaneans, we retaliate in a gesture of solidarity against their embassy in Franciscopolis. Yes, thats right sir, they do not respect diplomatic immunity. Yes, very well, if I am excused... Thank you, your Excellency, it has been an honour to talk to you."

Enrique laid down the telephone, and quickly put it back in the drawer. He promptly got dressed into his military uniform, that of Brigadier General, that he kept in the embassy for ceremonial reasons. The dark blue uniform, a relic from his days in the Granaderos a Caballo, still encrusted with dozens and dozens of medals. His old body could still support them, the more resistant spine and stronger upper-body structure having been recently scientifically proven to be hereditary in most Franberrian males. In his uniform, he made his way through the embassy and down two stories, to the ground floor. He exited to the large garden beyond the embassy, which could not be seen from the street, as to hide from the Allaneans. In the garden he encountered 20 horses, the professional soldiers and some of the more adept staff mounted on top of them. The rest of the improvised fighting group was milling around them, one carrying the flag, another a drum, a third a fife, and the rest wielding FALs.

"Well men, it is time to go protect our comrades in the diplomatic corps. We should to for them as they would do for us, and protect the noble ideal of diplomatic immunity!" Enrique stated to the gathered men, mostly wearing some semblance of military uniform. "Now, to street!"

The shiny gates of the embassy opened without a creak, letting the cavalrymen and the members on the staff on foot exit the building. Those on horses were armed with the carbine version of the FAL, although they still carried a lance and a cavalry sable. Those on foot had to make do with just their FALs, albeit with attached bayonets.

The armed group made its way down the street, the flag bearer in front, Enrique Montenegro, on horse, to his left, with the fifer and drummer shortly behind. They took their position beside the Questarians, and observed what the Aquetians were up to.

The Kahanistani Secretary would return with an answer that would surely disappoint her employer. To become a Praetonian Subject, one required twenty Praetonians "of good standing" - an attribute of vague and constantly changing legal definition - to testify to recommend the individual to the Crown at a hearing chaired by a Magistrate. The chances of this process being completed for any given individual within a short period of time were remote, at best.

Praetonian Embassy, Liberty-City

"This is outrageous!" Henbridge had flown into a rage as soon as he heard the news. The ambassador, proprietously arranged at the head of the table, cane in one hand and pocket watch open in the other, was beginning to indicate his boredom.

"Will you please come to the point, Mr Henbridge?"

"Of course, Ambassador," he strained the words, as though he were a teacher explaining something quite simple to a particularly truculant child. "Agents of a foreign Republic are assaulting a building flying the flag of the Royal Georgian League in the full sight of the world press. The Crown and the Empire have been assaulted! It is... it is just... outrageous!"

"Thankyou, Mr Henbridge. I am sure that it is truly... outrageous. What do you propose I do?"

"The Questerians have raised a call to arms. We must immediately take up arms and march to the aid of our Clandonian cousins... with your approval, of course, Ambassador."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Barked Hathaway, a stocky 50-something former Major who had kept quiet to that point. "You want to start a war you drunken fruitcake?"

"How dare you, sir! I should call you out, sir! I should-"

The Ambassador raised his hand for silence and Henbridge crumpled back into his chair.

"Mr Hathaway is right, of course. War is not something it is my power to start or provoke." Hathaway let out a short laugh, and Henbridge's anger rose with renewed vigour. "But-" the Ambassador gave Henbridge a stern glance, "it is also true that we must consider every man your enemy who speaks ill of our King, and these men assault those he has pledged to protect and threaten to tear down his standard. While I do not propose we hand over our affairs to the somewhat unreliable care of the Questerians, it would not do for us not to act on this."

"Ambassador?" Hathaway looked shocked, but his natural deference did not allow him to go much further than 'startled acceptance' when dealing with upper class gentlemen like the Ambassador.

"Do not worry, Hathaway, I will not have you act illegally. But you must recall that this is Allanea, and we are considered by them to already be inside their country. Gold sovereigns will buy one an army in this country, and the government has no power to intercede."

Hathaway smiled. "I understand, Sir."

A short time later, a troop of Horseguards with gleaming sabres in the red-and-gold of a Kingston parade formation would appear in front of the Clandonian embassy, and line up in a single rank before the Allanean police, and draw their sabres before the tanks with their penants unfurled as if on the fields of Waterloo. And at the same time, elsewhere in the great capital of a truly free state, a number of purveyors of tanks and guided missiles would receive some unusual visits from foreign gentlemen in three-piece-suits accompanied by orderlies carrying bags of gold.

The following piece appeared from several newswires catering to the intelligence community.

Allanean situation going critical; expected to confirm earlier study.

The situation in Allanea presents a perfect opportunity to validate studies in diplomatic responses in complex situations. Recently, The Armed Republic asked the question “A hostile nation kidnaps a diplomat, or seizes embassy personnel as hostages. You are most likely to…” and received a stunning 60 responses. By far the most popular response was “launch a covert action,” followed by “declare war” and “diplomacy.” A statistically significant number of nations chose “genocide” as a valid response.

The Armed Republic has incomplete information on the distribution of Embassies in Allanea, though we believe that, in addition to Doomingsland and Clandonia, the nations of Praetonia, Franberry, Aequatio, and Questers are present, prominent members of the international community.

Many respondants indicated that they believe that their embassies and consulates abroad are, in fact, their sovereign territory. The international community as a whole is most likely to disregard Allanean claims that diplomatic immunity does not exist, and will act accordingly.

National strength also comes into play before likely responses are discussed. Most respondant nations, if larger or more powerful, indicated that they would be more willing to “throw their weight” around and conduct an all out war, while nations on more equal footing are more likely to launch covert actions or negotiate. Even the peaceful nation of Southeast Asia holds covert action a tick away from diplomacy.

The Holy Empire of Doomingsland has replied to this survey with “Our policy is to unleash Holy EXTERMINATVS D:< on whomever is responsible. That is all.” With their history, we expect this action to result in an immediate covert action if not a declaration of war, limited or otherwise.

The nation of Clandonia follows “The English School.” Based on size, they are incapable of retaliating alone. However, Clandonia was recently ranked number 7 in a preliminary draft of World-Wide navies, though the Clandonian ground forces are regarded as a “joke.” Praetonia’s potential involvement, however, complicates things. Praetonia, the “puppet master” of Clandonia, was recently ranked 2nd in this Questarian analysis. We feel that this gives both nations, when combined, a slight edge against Allanea. We anticipate that these nations will attempt some form of covert action, while avoiding a broader-reaching conflict.

The nation of Aequatio is both larger than the Praetonian/Clandonian alliance, but is a member of the significantly more belligerent and powerful alliance known as “NATO.” We anticipate a balance between covert action and military action against Allanea, should they choose to become involved, or if Allanean actions are broadened.

We anticipate that the Questarian embassy will respond with a small-scale military or covert action in favor of the Clandonian embassy, as Questarian/Praetonian relations are stronger than Allanean/Questarian relations.

At this time, we do not anticipate any action from the nation of Franberry unless there is a strong motion towards one course of action or the another; their size prevents them from acting unilaterally. At most, we expect the Franberrians to, if alone, condemn the action, if at all.

Lastly, we want to re-iterate that none of the nations mentioned before will come to the aid of the Doomingsland embassy. Clandonia/Praetonia/Questers form a somewhat unified bloc, while Aequatio is a member of NATO, an alliance hostile to the interests of Doomingsland’s APOC. If anything, we would not be surprised to see Aequatian forces acting in support of Allanean moves against Doomingsland.

Our current advise for ending this as best as possible is for Allanea to simply expel both Embassy staff rather than arrest them; any other option will sorely sour Allanea’s position in the international community.

-James DeAgrela
State Security Administration, Foreign Policy Division

New Masada, Capital of Kahanistan

The Homosexual African-American Association of Kahanistan (HAAAK) gleefully jumped on the offers of the numerous Allanean bloggers. Armed with a copy of the infamous Virgin Mary cartoons (http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i206/Kahanistan/virginmary.jpg) which had provoked a Doomani chemical attack (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12326289&postcount=42), said copy either having washed up on a foreign beach and been purchased on eBay for a ludicrous sum, or smuggled out by liberated Kahanistanians from the Negev Desert, HAAAK's Latin-speaking members translated the Arabic and English words on them into Doomani Latin for posting on Doomani government web sites.

Employing a Kahanistanian hacker tool, Directed Intrusion and Lock-Defeating Object, or DILDO (a play on Back Orifice (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Back_Orifice)), HAAAK proceeded to defile every religious and government site whose security was either weak or they could obtain encryption algorithms for. Pro-gay rhetoric (although most HAAAK members were not homosexual or black) was a common tool of defacement.

---

Official Statement of the Free Republic of Kahanistan

While we obviously are against the cruel and barbaric plans of the Doomani government, we must speak out against the actions of Allanea in its non-recognition of diplomatic immunity and its attempt to arrest diplomats of hostile nations. Such hard-line military actions only isolate Allanea further from the international community and generate more undeserved sympathies for the Doomani and their allies.

We also warn the Allanean government that it is likely NATO will wish to protect its reputation; it is unlikely it wishes a reputation for protecting international terrorism. For the sake of Allanean international relations and the international rule of law, we implore Allanea to moderate its stance, and suggest mere expulsion of Doomani and Clandonian diplomats from Allanea.

Signed,
Nadia Sklenova,
President of Kahanistan

---

Major Feinberg fumed. "Shit!" he bellowed. "We don't have time to get twenty Praetonians, and even if we did, what's 'of good standing' and how much would we have to bribe them?"

"I doubt we can bribe them, and that's all they said, 'good standing,'" the secretary replied. "They seemed to be intentionally vague. Knowing them, they'd stall getting a magistrate until after the executions, anyway."

"Do you think they know our intentions?" asked the Major.

"Probably not, but they most likely suspect we have some ulterior motive, and one that could create an international incident. Have you done any research on Praetonian law?"

"The only book we have is twenty years out of date, Major. We don't have anyone who's an expert in Praetonian law who isn't biased, and the time constraint is something we can't ignore. I'd go into Doomingsland myself, but I'd have to know where they are..."

Liberty City, Allanea
In the general vicinity of the developing scene

It was a well established fact that Kampfers did not care much for diplomatic relations with Allanea. While in the United Federation of Allied Nations, the Fuhrer had cringed every time someone had mentioned deepening ties with the Allaneans. As such, when it came time for the Fuhrer to appoint a diplomat to the Kampferian embassy in Allanea, he knew just the man. Oliver Ferenschutz had been one of Richtoff's drinking buddies during his time in the Army, and For four years now Ferenschutz had been the Kampferian Ambassador to Allanea, and he showed no signs of slowing down. If there was one thing the Army had impressed upon him, it was to never go anywhere without his service revolver. If there was anything else the Army had impressed on him, it was to never go anywhere without his flask. Oftentimes, he remembered the flask and not the gun, but that was likely due to a lack of sleep and a massive hangover that he often had.

In his earlier years, Ferenschutz had taken liquor like no man's buisness, and had hardly suffered any of the normal consequences. These days, however, he was not as lucky. He had often challenged passing Allaneans outside the embassy lots to a sparring match to prove his true "honor" against the foul "beasts". His rampant alcoholism had often lead him to post signs on the walls of the embassy lot that read "Allaneans? More like FAILaneans" and on one particularly memorable occasion, "Go Yiff in Hell, Furries". This, among other assorted signs, led to the wall of the lot being graffited over numerous times, and the staff was continuously repainting the walls a proper color. Ferenschutz just took their response as a lack of the ability to "come to grips with their faults and change".

On this particular day, Ferenschutz had been hanging out in a local bar for most of the morning. He had become rather riled up, however, and the anti-Doomani attitude of the bar was overbearing. He picked a fight with a man, but before he could swing anything, he was picked up by the bouncer and flung from the premisis. Already drunk, he was stumbling down the row of embassies when he noticed the commotion down the way. He pulled up and took a long swig from his flask. Shaking the cobwebs out, he looked down the street and saw the Nakil. He recognized the form immediately and whipped out his service revolver. He began to sprint down the street, that is, if one could call it sprinting. He fell down once or twice, but each time he picked himself up and kept moving. Eventually he pulled up next to the Questarians. Doubled over for lack of breath, he brushed off the numerous bits of dirt from his clothes. He was a common visitor to the Questarian embassy, so his appearance was nothing out of the ordinary to them. Huffing and puffing, he managed to spit out a few coherent words, waving his revolver around violently. "What's... the... big... fusssss... aboout?"

While the majority of the world was frowning or even planning to take action against Allanea, one nation had a different point of view.

-Council-
"A toast, to the guys with guts!" Said Member Stone, a recent addition.
"They got the courage to do what the rest of them would never do." came another.

-Lone Alliance News-
###BREAKING NEWS###
At the announcment of the recent Verdict by the openly hostile nation of Doomingland to execute the former President Valens of Kahanistan by Burning, multiple nations have made remarks. However in a stunning show of force the nation of Allanea has issued warrants for the arrests of all Clandonian and Doomani embassies in Allanea, while most of the international community appears shocked and angered, recent leaked info from inside the capital has revealed some guarded support from The Lone Alliance government. This belief is likely to be mirrored by the populace who recently rated both Doomingland and Clandonia in the top Ten Most Hated Countries by the Lone Alliance. One must question however the reactions by Doomingland to this, and are questioning if a possible world war is dawning on us.

The whole thing was starting to make waves in the media – bloggers, newsmen, and generally curious people converged on the scene where RIAA tanks still stood, turrets aimed at the Doomani and Clandonian embassies. They pushed themselves unceremoniously between the ranks of varied embassy security that seemed to assemble from all over Embassy Lane, flashing cameras following every soldier's move.

There was laughter as the Franberrian ambassador's men pulled up on their horses, and bewilderment as the Aequatians got involved.

"Who's in charge here?" – an Aequatian shouted.

An Allanean replied:

"I'm Colonel Morris, Copyright Enforcement Company. I have a legal warrant from a judge to execute this operation. Would you like to inspect this warrant?"

Up the street

Given the rather unstable situation, instead of the infantry troopers at the gates and men walking the walls that usually guard the fortress-like Axis Novan embassy, a pair of Minuteman IIs stand at the front gate instead. The pilots inside uneasily watch the slowly growing gathering down the street; having recieved little to no notice of what, precisely is going on (other than the Allanean announcement), the armored vehicles are cause for no small amount of concern.

The embassy appears to be in full lockdown tonight; the usual searchlights shining on it's facade are off, and blast shutters are rolled down over the windows.

Clandonian Embassy, Liberty City

Panic and confusion had died down into the preparation to fight and defend the embassy as Property of the Crown. The ambasador had loaded his L-23A2 Combat Handgun that remained in his desk and attached it to his belt holster while the Royal Marine guards in their red uniform and bearskin hats, the twenty man team was loading its DR-83M rifles and positioning the DMG-83 light machine guns from the windows of the drawing room and blue room on the first floor of the embassy as to provide covering fire. Noting the tanks a man was sent running to retrieve the armoury stock of LAC.III Pilum's, with only four they hoped the Allanean forces would stop before a serious diplomatic and military situation occured. The embassy's single armoured fighting vehicle a D24A3 'Howler' IFV with a single 40 mm cannon was parked in front of the main gate as the marines formed a line, in the embassy every incriminating paper document and electronic piece of information was being prepared to be destroyed by the female members of the embassy. The ambassador and the male diplomats were jumping into their Combat 2000 BDU's and grabbing their small arms from the gun safes along with a four magazines.

Shouting at the Allaneans from the roof with a megaphone the ambassador Sir Winston de Bereseford said "I refuse your petty Bolshevik acts of terrorism, we refuse to follow the orders of a non-governmental agency. Any invasion or attack will be seen as an attack on the Crown and Royal Georgian League. God save the King!"

Cheers of 'huzzah' and 'The King!' were heard as the Clandonian news team stationed at the embassy began a live broadcast back to the home nation where it was early evening, the news was shocking and protests and outrage from various aristocrats filled the continuous news coverage of the situation.

"You are a fool." - the Allanean retorted - "Wwe have a perfectly lawful order from a county court - what, does Clandonia not have sherrif's posses? Anybody in this country can carry out a court order from a proper judge, and we happen to be that anybody."

The reporter had managed to get past the crowd of civilians, soldiers and militia that had assembled at the Clandonian Embassy, and was now sending off a live broadcast to the billions of viewers throughout the world that had access to CotNews 2, an independent news channel based in Eeobroht, Cotland, which had reporters throughout the world. Now, Anette Ingridsdatter, CotNews 2’s correspondent in Allanea stood along the side, sending a ‘breaking news’ broadcast live out to the billions of viewers, most of which were in Cotland. The camera man had managed to get a good wide angle view of the Allanean Nakil tank, the arriving Franberrian horse cavalry, Aequatian Marines, the Praetonian soldiers and of course the Clandonian soldiers – in other words the whole standoff – with the stunning twenty-nine year old reporter in focus, holding the microphone while talking quickly, spreading the news.

“And as you can see, the situation is evolving for every passing second. For those of our viewers who just tuned in, I’ll repeat what’s happened here in Liberty City, the capital of Allanea. A few moments ago, heavily armed officials of the Allanean ‘Records Industry Association of Allanea’, or RIAA for short, took up positions outside the embassies of Clandonia and Doomingsland with the intent of arresting the embassy staff of said embassies under the guise of copyright infringement charges brought against the embassy staff. The RIAA don’t seem to care much about the long upheld principle of diplomatic immunity or that embassies are considered to be the sovereign soil of the embassy’s home country. The Clandonians are refusing to comply, and the rest of the international community with diplomatic representation here in Allanea are massing here in front of the Clandonian embassy, bringing along enough weaponry to start a war. The countries sending troops to help defend the Clandonian embassy, in addition to the Clandonians themselves, are the Questerians, Praetonians, Franberrians, who sent a cavalry force,” – the camera zoomed in on the Franberrian ambassador in his cavalry uniform – “And surprisingly, even the Aequatians sent troops. From what we’ve been told by people who were here when this whole thing started, the Aequatian Marines are trying to stop the RIAA from carrying out this operation which several countries have already condemned as illegal. Wait, something’s happening…”

The camera zoomed in on the Clandonian ambassador and caught his short speech to the Allaneans, then zoomed in on the Allanean and caught his response too. Like Anette had said earlier, the situation was evolving, and the Cottish camera crew was getting it all, going live to the world.

Captain Moore rested his hands on top of his weapon as the Navy officer, in her service uniform with an added tactical belt and sidearm, stepped forward, "Colonel Morris, I am Lieutenant-Commander Sandra Wolfe, Navy Judge Advocate General liaison for the embassy here in Liberty City and we are here to determine exactly whose authority you are operating under that allows you and your people to violate sovereign territory of another nation instead of properly investigating whatever crimes you have accused these people of inside their embassies."

The officers spoke as the remaining marines, in addition to the M89 armoured cars, kept their weapons trained on the Allaneans. Staff Sergeant Marcus Daly, one of the more senior marines, gripped his G122 tight against his shoulder as the marine next to him balanced his MG146 squad automatic weapon on the hood of the Stallion jeep with its bipod.

The Allanean shrugged. "Sir, Allanean law does not recognize embassy exterritoriality. I have legal judicial warrants to execute search and arrests."

"Colonel, with all due respect, this entire situation is a farce," Started Wolfe as she fixed her gaze on the Allanean officer, "Do you have any idea of the ramifications of this obvious unlawful and politically-motivated assault on these embassies? Just because you Allaneans don't accept the proper diplomatic channels doesn't mean that your outrageous actions won't offend anyone else who is just as willing to bring force against you. I'm asking you to be reasonable and to stand down your warrants, cite whatever reasons you want to save face, but this is your last and only chance to do this of your own accord."

"Sir," - the Allanean retorted - "You claim to be a diplomat - for which I have no proof but your fancy suit and your Aequatian accent - and yet you know not the first thing about persuading an Allanean. At any rate, I have no plan to invade these embassies... oh, quite now."

"They like stealing my clients' music - let them have some!"

And then there was a deafening roar from all quarters, a heavy, thumping noise. ONly when the ears of all listeners adjusted slightly to the decibel level, it became apparent that this was the Venga Boys' "Boom Boom Boom" song, played from all the CEC's vehicles, very loud and on endless loop.

"NOW WE JUST PARK HERE AND WAIT! IT'S GREAT TO HAVE NO NOISE ORDNANCES IN THE DAYTIME IS IT NOT?"

Wolfe's tolerance had been pushed and she was obviously beyond irritated when the JAG officer turned to Moore and shouted over the loud music, "DEAL WITH THIS ASSHOLE!" She started back towards the vehicles in a walk as the Marine captain signaled to the other riflemen as a group of four marines shouldered their weapons and walked forward from the vehicles.

Moore adjusted his helmet as he pointed at Colonel Morris and two of them took aim at the Allanean officer with their rifles as the other pair approached the officer, "WE CAN DO THIS THE EASY WAY OR THE HARD WAY, COLONEL!" Said the lance corporal as he tapped the collection of plastic flex-cuffs hanging from his webbing equipment.

The Allanean was now visibly amused. "So... are you essentially trying to arrest me? On what authority, my friend?"

Shouting at the Allaneans from the roof with a megaphone the ambassador Sir Winston de Bereseford said "I refuse your petty Bolshevik acts of terrorism, we refuse to follow the orders of a non-governmental agency.

....Bolshevik?! Hahahaha.

Victory city, Allanea

The Franberrians stood by the Questarians, who were soon joined by the Praetonian contingent. Enrique watched as the Clandonians rightfully stated their rights from atop their embassy against the Allaneans, who continued to be stubborn and backwards even after an Aequatian officer went to talk to them. The situation did not progress at all, as the Allaneans kept up with their nonsense. They had even started to play some sort of barbaric music at a very high volume, inappropriately high, the citizens ears would be damaged if they kept it up for a long time.

Recognizing the Allaneans being stubborn as ever, Enrique decided to converse with the Aequatians, who seemed to be de facto in charge of negotiations. He then spurred his horse onwards, and it trotted towards the Aequatian position.

"Hello! I am Enrique Montenegro, Ambassador of the Federal Republican Duchydom of Franberry to the United States of Allanea. I wish to speak with the ranking Aequatian officer here."

"We're taking you into custody in order to maintain the peace!" Shouted Moore as the pair of Marines forced Morris to the ground and applied the flex-cuffs to his wrists as he struggled to his feet as they picked him back up to face the captain, "Now, colonel, call off your dogs," The captain said calmly.

One of the marine riflemen pointed to the Navy officer in her khaki service uniform, "That'd be Lieutenant-Commander Wolfe, sir," The young man said as he brought the Franberrian ambassador to the military lawyer, "Ma'am, Ambassador Montenegro of Franberry to speak with you."

"Thank you, marine," She said as the rifleman took up his position again, "What can I do for you, Mister Ambassador?"

Parkins Once Again Speaks Out on Scheduled Barbaric Burning of Former Leader
The Honakon Daily Press

Mrs Bourla Parkins, High Commissioner of Honako, in her Commission Speech today mentioned the distaste she has for the execution of the former Kahanistan leader and also offered what has been interpreted as a public statement of support for the recent highly controversial Allanea embassy attempted arrests, saying today "..if Allanea as a nation operates a system where there is no diplomatic immunity, then the nations who hold embassies there that have broken laws should rightfully accept the warrant, as if they did not know this fact before they entered the country I suggest they get better researchers. It is part of Allanea it seems to me that laws apply to all that live there whether they be diplomats, and so they should respect their laws as guests of their nation and give them the freedom to carry them out, as many of the offending nations claim to only want democracy and fairness for the world..”.

Parkins support will no doubt go unnoticed by Allanea due to little to none diplomatic relations with the country, but nevertheless the quiet Honakon movement against the execution goes on, most evident apart from this by the some 10,000 members of the Honakon Socialist Union who turned up in Embassy Square for all Honakon friendly nations to see to protest the use of the death penalty in all nations and this specific case. Humour has also been taken from Clandonia overt displays of patriotism, which many Honakon's have taken the liberty to mock in comments on videos of it taken by news crews and displayed on localized news sites.

Reporter: Mary Wilson

Oh, a woman. How barbaric, putting a woman in uniform. Enrique thought as he was presented to the Military Lawyer. He also could not address a lady from horseback, being in a higher position. The Aequatian officer dropped yet another rung in Enrique's mental scoreboard, for forcing him to dismount, which was not an easy feat in his outlandish uniform encrusted with medals. Once dismounted, he took off his feathered hat, and bowed in front of the female officer. He found this extremely difficult, as his old legs were not what they used to be, and he discovered that they had a lot of trouble stabilizing his body as the center of gravity suddenly changed.

"Enrique Montenegro, Ambassador from the Federal Republican Duchydom of Franberry to the United States of Allanea, Brigadier General, retired. At your service señorita." He waited for the Aequatian officer to respond, which she did not, instead making a polite gesture of acknowledgment. "We wanted to know what the plan for handling this situation was on your end. Also, I offer our entire detachment, I think it makes sense if we formed a unified command, along with the Questarians and Pretonians, of course."

The Colonel smiled sadly. "Sir, you may not realize this, but you're committing an act of kidnapping. I have an arrest warrant from a proper authority to do what I'm doing here. You don't. Also, I hereby resign my commission and revert the chain of command directly to CEC headquarters."

"Pompous ass," Wolfe thought to herself as she examined the Franberrian, "At this point in time, sir, we are hoping that the Allaneans will leave of their own volition and if not, we will detain them for the time being. Your offer of support is appreciated, however, we are not out here to form any gang or mob to dispense our own brand of justice. Besides, it would be best if your side made press releases instead of taking to the streets and hurting a delicate situation," She adjusted the length of her uniform blouse and tactical belt after speaking, "The last thing we need to occur is excessive violence."

Moore looked back at the Franberrian speaking with the Navy JAG as the two marines held Morris in place, "This is going to end now, Morris, whether you tell them to or we make them," The captain said as he waved more of the marines over to them, a dozen more riflemen armed with G121 rifles and MG146 light machine guns marched over to Moore, Morris and the other marines, "Last chance, Morris, you tell them now or we're going to put those speakers out of commission and detain your men."

Official Message from the United States Government

The court order given the RIAA of Allanea is hereby rescinded. However, the charters of the embassies of the Clandonians and Doomani are also rescinded, and they are to GTFO of Allanea immediately.

Doomani Embassy, Liberty City

"Wow, what a bunch of pussies," Ambassador Gaius Minusius Ahenobarbus commented as the Allaneans finally cancelled the warrant. It had been an interesting morning with that rediculous warrant, with the Aequatians of all people showing up to defend the embassy.

He'd give each of those marines a box of cigars on the way out, which would certainly make for an amusing photo op. It wasn't long before everything was packed up and everyone and everything was loaded onto the Bovis VTOL transports, which quickly and quietly got the fuck out of dodge.

The Allanean embassy in Urbus Doomanus had come under siege by over twenty thousand protestors in the midst of the arrest warrant; Imperial Guard troops didn't even attempt to stop them from throwing molotov cocktails and hand grenades over the walls, while snipers standing by in nearby buildings prepared to put a bullet through any Allanean that tried to do something about it. Following the lifting of the warrant, the protestors dispersed in an almost robotic manner and the Allaneans were allowed to leave via helicopter without incedent.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luckily, Doomani corporate and government sites were extremely well guarded against hackers attempting such sabotage, as the Doomani were no strangers to such blasphemies and the corporations had their own personal hacker armies to deal with such things. The computers of hackers, upon trying to breach the firewalls, would suddenly recieve even larger attacks on almost unbelievable levels, for the Doomani, both government and corporate, had entire server farms devoted to cyberwarfare.

One particular corporation, which was in essense a mercenary hacker company with a server farm large enough to fill the Coliseum in Rome volume-wise, initiated a particularly insulting campaign against Kahanistan: Spam with pictures of flayed, crucified Kahanistani POWs, images of the razed city of Najaster, orbital photos of Havenic Kahanistan at the very moment it came under nuclear attack, and photos of smiling, cigar-smoking and beer-drinking Doomani soldiers posing beside forests of impaled suspected insurgents (including women and children) would be flying all over Kahanistani sites, and with the amount of hardware and software behind them, the corporate hackers would be able to breach all but the most heavily guarded site.

To add insult to injury, the pictures were arranged in the manner of 'motivational posters', complete with titles and subtitles such as "Kahanistan: World's number one exporter of glass," or "Kahanistan: Largest weapons testing range ever constructed!" for the images of the country being obliterated with nuclear weapons or "Fail: now in shishkabob form!" for the images of the impaled Kahanistanis; as well as other equally humorous and demeaning phrases and images.

And of course in the mean time, the clock was ticking for Valens. There were just two days until the execution; if the Kahanistanis were going to attempt anything they would have to act quickly.

The announcement from the Allanean government of the warrants being rescinded had brought a calm to the marines as one of the riflemen cut loose the flex-cuffs from Morris's wrists and let him go off on his way with the rest of the CEC officers and vehicles. The Aequatians pulled their vehicles forward and parked them just outside the Doomani embassy as Moore and Wolfe accepted the cigars on behalf of the marines in front of the world media before returning to the Aequatian embassy with little incident.

Victory City, Allanea

Considering the statement by the Allanean government, and the actions and words of the Aequatians, Enrique Montenegro decided to adopt a more cautious plan of action. He watched as the Allanean was released and he went back to his CEC colleagues. Enrique directed the men under his command to return to the embassy, in full parade order, with the drummer and fifer playing a military march. They settled back in the embassy, slightly nervous, but without further incident.

Underground HAAAK outpost (actually, basement of 31-year-old, 250-pound Hamad al-Bakri, computer whiz, sometime competitive Cheetos eater, overall fatass and elite World of Warcraft 3000 hacker)

Hamad swore loudly in Arabic as his computer flooded with the viciously anti-Kahanistanian spam and it shrieked "Eheu, mater! Specto pornographiam homophylophiliae!", or "Hey, Mom! I'm looking at gay porno!" He ripped the speaker wire out of the computer as two HAAAK members, one male and one female, and an unfamilar young man in Jewish garb entered.

"Are you SURE your parents don't know you've converted this basement into a HAAAK lab?" asked the female HAAAK member, a very thin, geeky-looking Hispanic girl of about 25 with thick glasses and short hair, wearing a labcoat with HAAAK logos on it. She was holding a copy of Homonegros del Espacio Exterior.

"Yes, Lucia," said Hamad crossly. "Totally insulated, we even have our own generator." He gestured to a corner. "They don't get a bill for the power we use. Doomie bastards are good, that firewall's even impervious to DILDO." He showed Lucia the screen, which was still spamming anti-Kahanistanian rhetoric.

"Ron's got someone he'd like to introduce you to," said Lucia. She gestured to the male HAAAK member, a battle-scarred black ex-soldier about her own age. Ron nodded.

"This is Aharon Zuckerberg," said Ron, introducing the Jew. He was a short young man, perhaps sixteen or seventeen and wore the same thick glasses that Lucia did. "He's a member of Hakakal."

"Hakakal" was the Hebrew acronym for "HaMossad Kushim Kumkumim L'Kahanistan." Literally, "the Institute for Kushite Kettles of Kahanistan," or translated into English as "Gay ****** Association (http://www.gnaa.us/about.phtml) of Kahanistan," Hakakal was a rival to HAAAK. They practiced hacking each other's servers, and competed more often than worked together, but in this case, Hakakal didn't like the Doomies any more than 90% of the rest of Kahanistan's population.

Lucia Alvarez proceeded to introduce the other HAAAK members to Aharon. "This is Hamad al-Bakri," she said. "This is his parents' basement. This is Ron Scott, another HAAAK member."

"Why did you bring him here?" asked Hamad.

"I thought we could work together," said Lucia. "I know we aren't a nationalist organisation, but we can't have Doomani pointing the finger at us and saying we fail. It's bad for our morale, and I thought that bringing in some prime Jewish brainpower might help."

"Jewish brainpower is a myth," said Hamad. "Jews are no smarter than Latinos." He looked into Lucia's bespectacled eyes. "Or blacks." He looked at Ron. "Or Arabs." He stared back at his computer. "But I'll listen to whatever ideas you have."

"Well," said Aharon. "I won't discuss whether or not we're any smarter than Gentiles or not, but I have been hacking firewalls and dodging honeypots since I was three. The first thing you want to do is DDOS the Doomani server farms dedicated to security. Mr. Scott, please retrieve the spare Hakakal mainframe from my truck. We'll need its brainpower more than mine. I don't think the HAAAK stuff is up to the task." He added, "no offence." as Hamad glared at him. Ron walked out to retrieve the mainframe.

"The deal isn't with your hacking ability, it's with your hardware. While my mainframe DDOS'es the server farms protecting the personal website of Innocent VI, yimach shmo vezichro, you attack the site itself, vandalise it however you like."

"Yi... what?" asked Lucia.

"Yimach shmo vezichro," said Aharon. "May his name and memory be obliterated. It's a Hebrew blessing. We use it after the names of the wicked, but lately it seems to be seeing a lot of use against despised politicians. Anyway..." he looked through Hamad's stack of papers. "Virgin Mary cartoons. Of course, we Jews don't believe she was a virgin - the original Greek simply says she was a maiden, and the Hebrew word almah in the prophecy in the Tanakh, which you call the Old Testament, merely means a 'young woman.' But who am I to argue with Catholic dogma? I'm just a Jew."

Lucia seemed uncomfortable as her friend confronted Catholic dogma head on, and more at his light-hearted laughter. Aharon apparently noticed as he wired up the Hakakal mainframe that Ron had finished wheeling into the basement to the HAAAK generator, because he added, "I'm sorry. A lot of people in Hakakal laugh at the Doomies' religious beliefs, and sometimes we forget that millions of people here follow the same basic religion and are not fanatics. Mr. al-Bakri, you are Muslim, correct?"

"Nope. Orthodox Christian," said Hamad. "Enough about religion. Let's hack these bastards." He walked over to the Hakakal mainframe while Aharon went to Hamad's desk and leafed through the papers under the cartoons.

"Who is this attractive lady?" he asked, holding what appeared to be a photograph of a nude, athletic blonde woman in her 30's.

"That's Nadia Sklenova," said Hamad. "Where've you been during the Presidential elections?"

"No... it isn't." Lucia seemed very convinced. "She would never pose nude. It's a fake, and not a very good one. For one, Miss Sklenova's face is plastered over the body of... I think a football* player, from the size of her legs. She's definitely taller than 165 centimetres, assuming normal dimensions for her head. The carpet doesn't match the drapes, and she's way - way - bigger in the shoulders than she is on TV. On top of that, her skin tone is different on her body than on Miss Sklenova's face. She's probably Arabian or Latina."

"The Hakakal mainframe is online," said Ron. "Commencing Operation Madonna."

"Madonna?" asked Lucia.

"After the lady that wrote Like a Prayer, and had sex on an altar?" replied Ron.

"And desecrated the Virgin's name?" replied Lucia. "Isn't that what you call chillul HaShem?"

"No, that's desecration of God's name," said Aharon. "HaShem is God."

"Come on," replied Lucia. "Let's call it something else... how about, Operation Wrath of God?"

"We Jews already took that," said Aharon. "Operation... Crushing Dildo?"

Lucia nodded calmly as the Hakakal computer assailed the security server farms of the Doomani pontiff's website. "Initiating DDOS," said Ron. "When I say, I want the gay porno on HAAAK disk Lamed-Vav 3 uploaded."

Hamad retrieved the gay porno disk from file Lamed-Vav 3 and inserted it on Ron's command, hopefully treating most visitors to the Pope's own website to a display of the most explicit depictions of homosexual intercourse they had seen in their lives. For epic lulz, the cigars in the hands of Doomani soldiers were photoshopped into large, black penises, copied, and sent back to the Doomani.

[I hope I didn't mess the Hebrew up too badly.]
*That's soccer, for us Americans.

---

At a secret airfield 200 kilometres south of New Masada, Senator Aristakis Nikolatos, the leader of the Anti-Catholic Party, oversaw preparations for an emergency reaction. A Tu-160 Blackjack loaded down with missiles and six F-22 Raptors were being painted with radar-absorbent materials and Canadsteiner markings were being painted on them.

"Senator, are you certain that Miss Sklenova will approve this operation?" asked Lt. Colonel Mohammed Famad al-Jumari, the commander of the planned operation.

"No," said the Senator, a man in his late 30's with Greek features and dressed in the uniform of a Kahanistanian general, though unlike most politicians he had never been a military officer. "She will not. She believes that a diplomatic solution is feasible. She supports an embassy and formal diplomatic relations with the Doomani Catholic Nazis, yimach shmam vezichram. She said she has been in contact with Military Intelligence and they can't do fuck all. I have as much faith in our intelligence agency as I do when the Doomani Catholic Nazis offer a surrender that they won't kill us."

"But framing Canadstein... it just doesn't seem right, Senator."

"What doesn't seem right to me is that their intelligence agency reserves the right to overthrow and destroy Kahanistanian politicians who oppose Catholic hegemony. What doesn't seem right to me is that their government refuses to stop the Agency when we demand that they stop, and take advantage of the Treaty of Haversham to know we won't go to war with them. Well, dammit, I've had it with them, I've had it with Praetonia, and I've had it with Miss Sklenova. She is too liberal, she believes we can't fight against a whole religion. She says Catholicism is a religion of peace? My running mate when I ran for President, Dr. Ruth Lipshitz... her son was killed by the Doomani. I saw the photographs of what they did to him. That is a religion of peace, and moderate Catholics aren't like the Doomani? You can't be a moderate Catholic, that's like being a moderate Nazi or a moderate member of Manus Dei."

"I understand," said Colonel al-Jumari. "So how do we keep our own planes from blasting us out of the sky when we come up painted and transmitted as Canadsteiners?"

"The Air Force won't shoot unless the 'foreign' planes fire their weapons first," said Nikolatos. "We'll also be scattered, else I don't care how slow you go and how much RAM we have, we'll have an R.C.S. the size of Cartman's ass. Hopefully, our stealth will get us over the Doomani A.D. umbrella and let us hit the Sanguinarium. One of the F-22's has G.P.R. on it. I'm just a politician, though - someone else will explain the strategy to you better than I can."

Papal Fortress Server Farm

The funny thing about the Doomani Catholic Church was that it most likely had a larger GDP than a good deal of the nations of the world- and that wasn't an understatement. Church tithes gathered from Doomani citizens alone raked in a rediculous amount of income, and that wasn't factoring in government and corporate donations. As such, the sheer power of its server network in comparison to that of the Kahanistan hackers was simply staggering, and Doomanum had no shortage of superb hackers themselves, as the HAAAK members had just found out. It was almost an unwritten rule that every good hacker work for the Pope at some point in their lives; after all, what could be more amusing than sabotaging heretical and blasphemous sites in the name of God?

In this case, it was taunting the citizens of a nation that had been destroyed two times over. The Kahanistanis may have been more successful had they initially pooled their resources; however, the Doomani were now on full alert to a potential cyberwarfare attack, and the Pope's finest cyberwarfare specialists had been woken up. The DDOS attack on the server farms simply wasn't enough; the sheer size of the server farms allowed for them to handle literally hundreds of millions of proxies, which made sense considering the amount of members the Doomani Catholic Church had and the fact that the vast majority of them had computers, and as a result such massive server farms were required. That, and the fact that they were integrated with the Pope's website itself, meaning that if the DDOS attack WAS successful it would end up taking the site down, making it impossible to sabotage.

However, the Kahanistanis did succeed in one unintended effect, one they would have no doubt considered a victory: Doomani news stations were now instructing all citizens to stay off of any official Church websites, as they could unwittingly contribute to congestion that would be beneficial to the DDOS attack. The stations did not specify as to why exactly citizens should stay off of the sites, but many would have a good enough idea as to why that was. They had, in some degree, shut the Pope's official website down with their DDOS attack. That would last only as long as the Kahanistanis could continue the attack, however, and that would soon come into question.

An offensive server farm was now being redirected to the mainframes attacking the Church mainframe: Uploaded now was something that would disturb the Kahanistanis more so than the pictures had. As part of the DDOS attack being launched in retaliation to effectively throw the enemy DDOS attack off balance, audio files were being streamed: they were the confessions of convicted 'heretics' captured in Najaster several years ago in which the victims, their voices clearly full of pure agony, were begging forgiveness for their sins following intense torture at the hands of the Inquisition. In combination with the audio files, a video was also streamed of a mass burning in one of the ghettos in which as many as fifty people were roasted alive at the stake, with the words 'LOL BARBEQUE' flashing at the top of the screen. This of course was only on top of the much larger, conventional DDOS.

The Doomani concept of epic lulz.

OOC:

Just a note for the record: the Sanguinarium (located in the province of Damnatium) is about 2500 miles inland from the Havenic coast if I remember correctly (I think I had it written down somewhere, I'll let you know if its different), so in flight refueling (that could potentially be within range of interceptors) is definately a must for any mission.

-Montauk-
"Two days left," Slavik said, "Do we have anything yet?" "No but the Cyber attacks have slightly effective against them..." Said Oxanna. "Hmm, I think I know a better target though." "What?"

"Up, Get the Communication Array Cargo vessel and give it orders to move to the International Waters around Doomingland." Slavik said.

"And then what?" "They are ordered to lock on and jam all Doomi satellite signals. He stamped his fit down.
"Fill their skies with white noise!!!" "Oh and provide some Assault tankers and the 30th Wolfpack to guard it."

1 Cargo Transport with extensive ECM and Jamming Technology.
3 Assault Tankers (Supertankers with Missiles and a 10 in turret.
30th Wolfpack
4 Seawolf Class Subs
3 Akula Class Subs

The heart, the core of all information and communications networks in Third Spanish States, every phone call, every broadcast from either radio or television, every man on either leisure or business, every political decision, every lonely teenager in his bedroom... everything goes through and has as medium the Internet and the EDDNet, which are commonly known as the Internets. Technology information always stood as one of the most advanced sectors of the Confederacy, and the inhabitant:computer ratio was getting beyond 1:1, such was the degree of importance and popularity computers had. A major advantage was the complete negation of any possibility of monopoly over televisions or radios with the equally anti-democratic "opinion formers", while also allowing a higher degree of interactivity when watching an Internets broadcast through a computer or linked television. Nevertheless, the cheapness of broadcasting through the Internets, coupled with the absolute freedom of speech, has brought all sorts of trash channels into existence bombarding whoever dared to watch them with all sorts of disgusting, annoying and crappy shows, C-movies among other things: the more infamous being the 100% "NSFW" 4chanTV, the disgusting Goatse Channel and the neonazist Triumph of the Will... however despite being so linked with the outside world, Third Spanish States was still a quite isolationist civilization. While some sought to be on the spotlight and become famous in the International Community, as a way of survival, they sought to mostly stay away from the rest of the world and its problems they lacked will and capability to solve, instead keeping to themselves mostly, to the point they rarely made any sort of action, not even communications and statements about several of the infamous events across the globe.

A group of students from the Tienda del Coche's University of Tucker decided to make a research about brutality, imperialism and critical failures of foreign relations by taking research about several nations which had made crippling mistakes which brought them to their own doom by calling unnecessary attention and hostilities to powerful and ruthless fascist, totalitarian and overall imperialist nations or by making completely wrong choices on the allies to take. It was no wonder that eventually they would spot the gruesome images some innumerable Doomani hackers infested Kahanistan websites with.

The first reaction of seeing such demonstration of brutality, inhumanity and sadism at the computer screen four students were sharing was of complete revulsion, it was no wonder a comment quickly came from one of them as they recovered from the shock and quickly closed the browser:

"Richard Dawkins was right about religion, and Bakunin was right that if god did exist he should be abolished, and I think this is something many would want to see, despite how disgusting it is... there is no embassy of these... these monsters here right?"

"Of course not pal! We don't have the risk electing a dumbass of a president to make stupid decisions supposedly beneficial to the people!", his friend answered trying to raise their moods.

"Look at this data! These oppressors are huger than five Chinas! And they can nuke the entire planet a hundred of times if they wanted to!", one of them said pointing at another tab of the browser where the most objective possible information about Doomingsland could be acquired.

"Hey! Why did these stupid people let them have the pleasure of torturing them? If they fought to death or killed themselves to die free rather than have the last momemnts of life in slavery at least they wouldn't have their mutilated bodies broadcasted over the Internets!"

"Gomez, not everyone thinks like the Confederacy about what makes life worth and what makes suicide acceptable, plus I don't think we should judge people who suffered something we never had to face. Talking about ending your own life or fighting to death is easy... doing it, it's another history..."

"Yes... you might be right about that, these people aren't stupid, they were just victims of the worst form of oppression, it's a pity we can do nothing besides getting our asses out of international trouble and boosting our own defenses. Do you think they are a considerable threat to our freedom?"

"To our freedom, no because I have a faith we all would die first than giving away our freedoms. To our lives, yes... and a very serious one... but there is not much to do besides being discreet, is there? Because if they invaded our island we would be totally fucked unless an equally huge ally helped us."

"Always the "realist", heh? Now you are right, no matter how things have progressed and local technology for both peace and war flourished, we would be in a very delicate situation... after all from what I know we don't have nukes because of the hippies lobby, fortunately those weed-smoking head-on-the-clouds did not manage to convince people about gun control or disarmament, and then they could easily leverage us with nukes only despite all our densely entrenched anti-air defensive grid... actually, I hate these hippies, their brain cells became atrophied due to drugs! Maybe this might be a good enough justification for launching a new referendum"

"What? Do you think you can convince the entire nation that we must build nuclear weapons because of a bunch of disgusting images?"

"We'll see about that."

And thus it came... another very polemic referendum. Soon the pictures broadcasted from Doomingsland were widely distributed internally with an assortment of extremist titles like "And you still think there is not a bottom of the gene pool?", "Not everyone is equal, some people are worse enough to do this. Still worried about human rights of criminal and would-be dictator scum? Human rights are only for human beings", "Look at here and wake up of your pacifist utopia!", "Freedom requires extermination of subhumans like those who did these atrocities". This event gave an industrious boost to the extremism of Anarcho-socialist Eugenicists calling for "a more intense genetic cleansing against heinous criminals and would-be dictators inside Third Spanish States", although use of lethal force against these types was already commonplace and mobs tended to lynch those who tried coup d'etats. The images from Doomingsland served as another confirmation there was nothing unethical or immoral on slaughtering murderers and tyrants, while now use of white phosphorous and napalm against slavers became much more frequent, although they did not have any pleasure or wicked sadism of taking pictures of burning slavers, as those actions were for them unpleasant but necessary actions to fight against tyranny and injustice under their current capabilities.

In a tight and controversial decision when the EDDNet became again "in flames" in all possible forms while trolls took advantage of discussions to make flame wars among the anti and pro-nuclear people, 55% approved the immediate start of a nuclear weapons program. However little they knew that in fact, such program already existed covertly despite all opposition to it. The revolutionary military was almost a government of its own and rarely listened to the pacifist rants of certain citizens when deciding on what to invest its resources. Of course, as always, the news about the nuclear program approval were not broadcasted worldwide, and thus they continued in their isolationism...

(OOC: Direct democracy, so it needs a pretext and a good argument to convince people nukes are a necessary evil, although some decided to go further and assume previously people would approve a nuclear program, starting it in secrecy much before its approval.)

OOC: Methinks Canadstein was annexed by Wanderjar.

Clandonian Embassy, Liberty City

"Weaklings." Spat the ambassador as a he climbed down from the roof into the administration level as the thousands of files and paper documents were being burnt. The ending of a Clandonian diplomatic mission to Allanea was no real loss in a nation of sick furry obsessed child molesters. In Clandonia the Allanean embassy team were to be frogmarched to the airport with their bags packed promptly. Medals and bottles of Clandonian brandy were given the brave soldiers and diplomats of the countries which had risked their lives by leaving their own diplomatic sanctuary to defend the Clandonian Embassy.


---

In orbit over Kahanistan four satellites out of the Clandonian RAF JOSN constellation system kept a regular watch over the country, the high resolution spy satellites snapped away at the territory bellow. The maintenance of topographic intelligence was crucial for the day to day operations of Clandonian Forces Kahanistan, for the protection of both Kahanistan and the Clandonian and Praetonian personal. The image data was beamed down to the Air Force's recieving station in the Virgin Islands in Eastern Haven for analysis by expert personal, noting Kahanistan's small military having seven aircraft in a remote airbase near the capital the intelligence was passed onto MI6 and the Joint Intelligence Organisation at Cranwall.

The Kahanistani's could hide nothing now.

Official Revolutionary Commonwealth Statement In Re: Marcellus Valens
First of all, allow me to start with the matter at hand. Caesar Maximus, in spite of our disagreements, I welcomed you to the Third Theeb Accords conference in respect and was generally treated likewise by you; much to your credit. For this, I thank you as is only civilized; but in spite of this respect I must officially state my utmost revulsion at this exercise of patent victors' injustice by the Doomani State. You tried Marcellus Valens under laws alien to him after transporting him beyond the seas to Doomanum, to be held incommunicado and under what I can only surmise from your own footage of him were brutal conditions. There you tried him with what I can only guess was minimal real chance of defending himself, for a list of crimes that effectively amount to nothing more than an ex post facto criminalization of his life prior to defeat and capture, with one of the most cruel and unusual executions most of those hearing of these events can conceive being the sentence once verdict had been rendered. For me to do anything but denounce the execution of Marcellus Valens as but another act of naked insult and brutality, perpetrated against a Kahanistani people that can no longer even get in the Imperium's way at all, would be for me to lie. And my respect remains enough for me not to lie to your face, and somehow pretend at decorous neutrality over this pending murder of a man whose chief crime seems to have in fact been to live where he was as whom he was. I know murder when I see it, and I call it what it is.

That said, I also cannot speak well of my allies in condemning this coming murder. Though President Kazansky of the United States of Allanea retains my friendship and cooperation as per the Confederacy of Sovereign States, I must express my grave disappointment with the actions of the Recording Industry Association of Allanea, with its' affiliated militia, and with the judge that authorized their actions against the Clandonian and Doomani embassies in Liberty City. My nation's own relations with the Clandonians both have historically been poor and indeed shall not improve as a result of these events, neither does Tailville DR host a Doomani embassy nor shall it in the foreseeable future, but my nation's protest of this action remains moral in character and I can only express my relief that the embassy expulsions were ultimately conducted properly in accordance with international custom. Overall, we must all remember to act with respect even as we call murder what it is and cry foul! We must set an example of conduct in justice, even against evils we cannot change.

For myself, I'll be touring my capital's various places of worship the hours of Valens' death both before and after. I call on all who can countenance this in conscience, in my nation and around the world, of any religion or creed, to pray for the valiant soul of former President Marcellus Valens; a man cut down before I even had the privilege of knowing him as a colleague in our shared work of nations. Let his suffering be brief, and may his murderers be denied the satisfaction of seeing him in any hell other than that they imagine in their pride. Above all else, let his sacrifice spare his people. My nation's blessing and my own personal blessing as well upon all who have acted mercifully in some fashion whatever their side here, and my nation's curse as well as my own on those who see fit to goad the Kahanistani at so inappropriate a time as this. You all know who you are, so I need not name further; so I say and do without fear or favor.

Sincerely,
Christine Friedrich
Stewardess of the Revolution, Revolutionary Commonwealth of Wagdog
Secretary-President, RCW Supreme Directory

Prehensia Dutch Reformed Church, Prehensia Borough; Tailville DR, Wagdog
The tour had been long, and arduous in this cold weather even as much as it had been inspiring. Whether to the mosques or synagogues or any of numerous varieties of temple, Christine had seen at least a few charitable souls willing to pray this night for Valens' to die well. A pity that's all he likely can do, Christine thought; she more than most wanting to pry him from Maximus' claws if she could at all. Therein, of course, lay the problem as far as she knew; despite Wagdian intelligence being good it still wasn't good enough, not hardly in this regard.

Finally, Christine had settled on the local branch church of her family's old denomination; back before she'd become an agnostic upon first taking to Marxism and then decades later broadening herself out from that school of thought. Sitting in the pews silently, she sat out the vigil here before she'd hopefully be able to make for a similar service at the Vetakan Embassy's grounds should such be arranged in time. If my spirit's at home anywhere... yes, likely there. I'll be there when the Hour comes. Still, for now she continued to sit; one of the most powerful women in her world gaining a new sense of just how small she really was even now...

The HAAAK / Hakakal mainframe network was no longer able to stand up under the Doomani counter-assault. Four mainframes in one geek's basement will not stand up for long against a server farm whose computers likely outnumbered the entire population of Kahanistan after the wars.

"Shut it off," said Lucia irritably when the Doomies began lulz'ing at the torture of millions. It made her feel weak - she knew that under that torture, she would have admitted to whatever the Doomies wanted her to say.

Aharon unplugged the mainframe. "There's nothing more we can do... but we've shown we'll put up a fight. Hopefully, someone out there in Doomingsland... now thinks there's nothing wrong with nudity, or homosexuality, or unorthodox religious views. And b'ezrat HaShem, with the help of God... someone will spread the word."

---

The remote airfield kept the planes under sand, dirt, or tarmac-coloured tarps until ready for use, to make them blend in under eyes in the sky - Kahanistan knew full well the Doomani had satellites just like they did.

Nikolatos swore angrily, having received a notice that the Sanguinarium was 2,500 miles, or about 4,000 kilometres, inland of the Doomani coast. (His knowledge of Doomani geography was poor.) The F-22's couldn't get in without taking vulnerable refuelers well within range of Doomani satellites and fighters. In a rage, he called the base commander he had subverted (who apparently didn't know the geography any better than he did) and said he now needed six Su-30 MKI's, the main air superiority fighter of the Kahanistanian Air Force. These had much longer range, potentially 8,000 kilometres (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Su-30MKI#Range_and_fuel_system), and he needed them within eight hours. To fool enemies who might be spying, he ordered them directed to another hidden airbase, at which he would be waiting, and required that one of the Tu-160's missile bays be modified to accept a small arms cache. (Transport aircraft were too slow and vulnerable for this mission.)

The paint jobs, giving the Su-30 MKI's and Tu-160 Canadsteiner markings and RAM to hide them, would take twelve hours. If he got the planes within the eight hours he needed, he would have twenty-eight hours to hit the Sanguinarium with bunker-busting bombs, anti-radiation and cluster munitions, and drop a cache of ten G3 rifles (not Kahanistanian standard issue) and several magazines each, incite a prison uprising, and hopefully save General Valens, becoming a hero to the people of Kahanistan.

While President Sklenova wasn't going to approve an invasion of Doomingsland (and the Republic Navy lacked the logistical support for an intervention without allies even if she would), Nikolatos hoped that she would come under massive domestic political pressure to help citizens fighting for their lives. His attack, using hand-picked men and women who were loyal to his ideology, would hopefully buy some time, maybe a few days, for international pressure to mount against Doomingsland - pressure that might translate into military support to retrieve the prisoners.

-Montauk-
"Two days left," Slavik said, "Do we have anything yet?" "No but the Cyber attacks have slightly effective against them..." Said Oxanna. "Hmm, I think I know a better target though." "What?"

"Up, Get the Communication Array Cargo vessel and give it orders to move to the International Waters around Doomingland." Slavik said.

"And then what?" "They are ordered to lock on and jam all Doomi satellite signals. He stamped his fit down.
"Fill their skies with white noise!!!" "Oh and provide some Assault tankers and the 30th Wolfpack to guard it."

1 Cargo Transport with extensive ECM and Jamming Technology.
3 Assault Tankers (Supertankers with Missiles and a 10 in turret.
30th Wolfpack
4 Seawolf Class Subs
3 Akula Class Subs
Unfortunately for Nod, it soon became apparent that they really didn't know what they were doing in terms of trying to jam satellite signals, as Doomani waters started some two hundred miles off the mainland, and as such the satellites weren't actualy transmitting too many signals out there, as there wasn't many people sitting two hundred miles off shore trying to pick up satellite signals. As such, they succeeding in jamming the area around them, and accomplishing absolutely nothing. Well, they did manage to piss off the Imperial government with the massive amount of white noise being generated by the ships, which was, to a degree, flooding radio channels on shore and in the immediate area.

This was nothing that couldn't be solved by brute force: Unity Gun batteries were placed online, with one being set to target the small Nod battlegroup. It was realized that GPS guidance would be ineffective due to the cloud of ECM, and so accuracy wasn't going to be very good. There was always a solution for that however: the High Command authorized the loading of a single five hundred kiloton nuclear warhead into the gun targetting the battle group. The round was set for subsurface detonation, which would effectively vaporize the water below, creating a massive bubble in which there was no water which would then have to be filled by the water above it, resulting in any vessels above it promptly snapping in two and the survivors most likely being boiled alive.

The round was fired without incedent: not much accuracy was needed, and so inertial guidance would work well enough in landing the round somewhere in the middle of the small group of ships, although to make things easier the shell would be able to home in on the jamming signal being generated by the ships to make it impossible to miss its mark. The Doomani were sending a message to the world: anybody trying to pull anything even as small as attempting to jam satellite signals off the Doomani coast would provoke the most brutal response possible. One could only imagine what attempting an invasion would result in...

OOC: For reference, Gannon and Maximus go back so this is a casual email between friends.
To: HIM Caesar Maximus III
From: Justin M. Gannon, Chief Counsel to The President <jmgannon@prestonianrepublic.cp>

You know how I feel about the stuff you do Maximus, but how you run your nation is none of my business. I was wondering if you'd save a box seat for me in the Coliseum. Preston thinks I'm on holiday in Osmiu, UFAN thinks I'm here to bitch and moan about you having Valens killed. Everything's perfect, nobody will ever know I made an unauthorized visit to Imperium Doomanum. I'm not here to revel in the death of another, but the planned mock-battle is too interesting to pass up.

P.S. If you want I can bring a kilo of Prestonia's finest green. Preston doesn't like his people getting stoned but fuck him, I'm a free man and there's no law against it.

-Justin

"You want me to do WHAT?"

President Sklenova spoke with a greater vigour than she'd been capable of since learning that Valens was still alive, and sentenced to be murdered.

"Don't misunderstand me," said Colonel Aleister Beckett, director of the Presidential Security Detachment. He set down an article describing a Tarasovkan project (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=497564) that had taken place about two years earlier. "I know it isn't... you, but these are desperate times. They call for desperate measures."

"Colonel," said Sklenova. "If I thought for one second that it would work, I would indeed undertake a project like that. But on such short time, and with a budget hundreds of times what we'd be able to raise that way... if buying their freedom was an option, I'd be all over it. I don't believe in paying tribute or ransom either, but we can't leave our people to the Doomani - I'd pay whatever price they asked." She lowered her head.

"My plan is to send a small diesel-electric sub, drop some special ops, find the prison, get them out and bring them back..." Sklenova's expertise was in aerial tactics, not in naval or special operations.

"But you would be detected if you traveled fast enough to arrive before the murder," said Beckett. "Marshal Kostanov... said that some ships just vanished, something funky happened off Doomani waters. They've got some weapon that can do that, what can we do?" He took Sklenova's hand, normally a very forward gesture given his position. "I... care about General Valens as much as you do. I won't hold it against you if he is murdered." He was careful not to say outright there was nothing she could do - it would only further upset her, and she was already cracking at the seams.

"Leave me be," said Sklenova. "Dismissed." When Beckett left, Sklenova pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured a glass of it, drinking it straight - something she had never done before. She wanted to dull the pain...

-Doommi waters-
The target was a direct hit, the ship, the 3 subs near it, and the 2nd Surface Tanker guarding it, that was within 20 miles of it simply vanished, however... Upon seeing the white flash and having a shockwave toss them like crazy, the 2nd tanker, a good 30 miles northwest and well within shipping lanes, sprung a 'leak'. the entire rear tank was in fact full of Crude oil, and by being within the coastline current, the sludge would drag itself along the currents to the shorelines...

It would be an epic man-made diaster of untold proportions. The shockwave would easily take the blame. And the doomis would have not just blood... But tar on their hands.

The other subs meanwhile awaited further orders.

-Montauk-
"Nukes eh?" Slavik said looking over the notes.
"Sir 300+ soldiers died from those attacks." Oxanna replied.
"So be it." Slavik said.
"Commence Operation "Poisoned Tide", I want every shoreline, harbour, everything so full of filth and posion that they cannot even walk out without catching something, Oil, Toxic sludge, whatever, and all the MUF* you can buy from people in enemy nations."
"What about the other nations near them?"
"Fuck em, they should have done something sooner."
"And if they nuke it all they just form a cloud of radioactive steam which will piss off even more people."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, how are the Shadow teams?"
"Fully active," Oxanna replied, "You don't mean?"
"Suit them up, the 2nd class ones of course, we're dropping them from up high."



(*Materials Unaccounted For, nuclear waste\products that get stolen or go 'Missing', for a price.)

(OOC: I expect a response for them launching random Nukes into the ocean BTW people, there is no proof of jamming... Anymore, they took care of that.)

It wasn't long before reports of an oil spill began to circulate in. Because the Nod tankers were over 200 miles off the coast, there was plenty of time to stop it from causing much damage. A flight of Aquila fighters, laden with incendiery bombs, was scrambled. Their mission was to ignite the oil, so that it would burn out well before it reached shore. Meanwhile, the Imperial Navy quadrupled its patrols in the waters around Doomanum. The next time a tanker mysteriously 'sprung a leak' or somebody attempted to jam signals, bad things would happen to them. Meanwhile, SOSUS would be alerting the patrols of any submarines in the area.

President Sklenova had not given up. She decided to send a Military Intelligence officer to Praetonia, to speak to the people that the Praetonians had managed to get released. Therefore, that night, Lt. Colonel Olivia Harrison boarded a red-eye flight to Kingston aboard a Kahanistanian Tu-144 supersonic liner. She was to glean enough information from the refugees to learn the prison well enough that an infiltration and escape could be organised.

---

Nikolatos had run into difficulties obtaining the aircraft on short notice, and had gotten the wrong kind of paint requisitioned. By the time he had made the right phone calls, made a last-minute crew change, been assured the right kind of radar-absorbing paint had been shipped in the right colours, and the IFF transponders on the Su-30 MKI's had been changed to at least not be recognised as from Kahanistan, he would have only sixteen hours, not the twenty-eight he had planned for, to get to Damnatium, blow a hole in the Sanguinarium's wall, get the hell out of Doomani airspace with minimal fuel, and if Jesus was on his side, make it to a refueler outside Doomani waters with less than 1% fuel. Neither he nor Sklenova knew Valens was in a separate facility; Intel assumed he was with the other prisoners.

As long as he could keep his plans hidden from the government, which would try to stop him for fear of a war, he felt that he was sixteen hours from becoming a national hero, and making his party politically acceptable again.

The five hundred Kahanistanis that had been sent to King George as part of his annual gift would not be what Lt. Col. Harrison was expecting. Maximus had made sure that the "properly broken" variety of slave had been sent to King George; after all, Kahanistanis could be quite rude at times! The Doomani concept of properly broken, like many other Doomani concepts, was quite warped: it involved generous electroshock treatment. The sort that severely damaged one's memory to the point where one did not remember a thing about one's life before the treatment save for how to speak and certain other things: this made the slave especially pliable, easy to reprogram, and far more cooperative than it otherwise would have been.

In fact, the individuals in question had been told that there was a chance that the evil Kahanistanis may try to kidnap them while in Praetonia, and take them back to their horrific third world shithole to rot for the remainder of their lives, and as such many of them were extremely apprehensive. Virtually none of them had spent time in the Sanguinarium, and had instead started off in one of many slave processing centers where their memories were properly destroyed and they were 'reprogrammed'. The one thing the Kahanistanis would get out of this was a good idea of just how the Doomani system of industrial slavery worked: it was quite far off from what they and others had previously believed it to be. There were very few slaves in Doomanum waiting for the day their countrymen would come to rescue them: the vast majority toiled on, because that was the only life they knew.

The five hundred Kahanistanis that had been sent to King George as part of his annual gift would not be what Lt. Col. Harrison was expecting. Maximus had made sure that the "properly broken" variety of slave had been sent to King George; after all, Kahanistanis could be quite rude at times! The Doomani concept of properly broken, like many other Doomani concepts, was quite warped: it involved generous electroshock treatment. The sort that severely damaged one's memory to the point where one did not remember a thing about one's life before the treatment save for how to speak and certain other things: this made the slave especially pliable, easy to reprogram, and far more cooperative than it otherwise would have been.

In fact, the individuals in question had been told that there was a chance that the evil Kahanistanis may try to kidnap them while in Praetonia, and take them back to their horrific third world shithole to rot for the remainder of their lives, and as such many of them were extremely apprehensive. Virtually none of them had spent time in the Sanguinarium, and had instead started off in one of many slave processing centers where their memories were properly destroyed and they were 'reprogrammed'. The one thing the Kahanistanis would get out of this was a good idea of just how the Doomani system of industrial slavery worked: it was quite far off from what they and others had previously believed it to be. There were very few slaves in Doomanum waiting for the day their countrymen would come to rescue them: the vast majority toiled on, because that was the only life they knew.OOC: Makes me wonder on how much a slave acutally costs in your nation...

Meanwhile, SOSUS would be alerting the patrols of any submarines in the area.
OOC: There has been no evidence of subs in the area. For all you know you launched a nuke at a single ECM ship that was acting all by it's lonesome.
Oh and are you planning on blowing up the tanker in the process of clearing the oil?

OOC: There has been no evidence of subs in the area. For all you know you launched a nuke at a single ECM ship that was acting all by it's lonesome.
Oh and are you planning on blowing up the tanker in the process of clearing the oil?
OOC:SOSUS would have been scanning anyway, you don't exactly have one of those networks and leave it turned off...

OOC:SOSUS would have been scanning anyway, you don't exactly have one of those networks and leave it turned off...

ooc: You do realize active sonar has a pitiful range compared to passive?

[OOC: Maybe it's just me, but I often just go with the flow even if I have OOC misgivings. I'm waiting for Praetonia to respond before doing anything with the ex-slaves; the last thing I need is to have my intel officer figure out what happened, bring in a psychologist to try to restore the memory of an interrogation subject, and then be OOCly told that the intel officer wasn't even allowed into Praetonia.]

---

Seven aircraft took off from a northern military base; six Su-30 MKI's and one Tu-160 bomber. Another seven aircraft were being prepared hastily; these were Il-78 refuelers under orders to refuel the fighters 500 kilometres from Doomani waters. The refuelers were painted with RAM to reduce their RCS's at least enough to get them mistaken for something else; they didn't need to intrude on hostile airspace, but refuelers would arouse a lot of suspicion...

To reduce air resistance (and fuel consumption), the Su-30's flew at their service ceiling of 20,000 metres. They would not even begin to descend until they needed to rendezvous with the refuelers 12,000 metres above sea level, 500 kilometres outside Doomani territorial waters.

As the refuelers were much slower than the fighters, the Su-30's could take a roundabout path to disguise the direction from which they were coming. The operational commander, Lt. Colonel al-Jubari, estimated his time of arrival at but half an hour before the murders began.

Senator Nikolatos, confident his plan had no more hitches, returned to New Masada. If asked where he had been, he had gone on a solo hunting expedition in the northern ice field.

RAF Hereford, Clandonian Forces Kahanistan

Built on the North side of the island as instructed to in the post-Haversham planning doctrine in conjunction with the Praetonians strategy for 'Watching and Guarding' Kahanistan. With much of the North under the radar band of the Clandonian Royal Air Force the Kahanistani aircraft were detected using the newly built over the horizon radar system, built by Kahanistani labourers on the backbone that it would protect their country from foreign threats. Reporting into base commanders air traffic controllers requested instruction on what to do. Instructions dictated from Warminster instructed RAF planes to not intercept or engage them but to observe them, ironically Doomani made TSF-624 "Shukusei" and two ACI-73D 'Aquilla' fighters tracked the aircraft as they left the Clandonian radar umbrella, photographic evidence was taken and uplinked to a satellite upon being received at the Air Ministry along with the preparation images observed a day or so before a priority phone call and fax were made to the Doomani embassy.

Clandonian intelligence gathering was heavy, in such a turbulent province of the Empire where there was such a high level of Bolshevik dissent and anti-capitalist rhetoric there was a need for active intelligence gathering. The unstable and untrustworthy government in New Masada was desperate it seemed to push their country into another war which could bring the end of the Kahanistani race. The Doomanis would likely down the ancient aircraft before they reached their own territory or do something the Clandonians preferred not to talk about with the pilots and crewmen...

Kahanistan had never signed any treaty with Clandonia, and refused to be labeled a province of theirs. The Clandonians didn't even know that Kahanistanians weren't a race. They were largely of European or Semitic stock, with the occasional black or Asian thrown in. In fact, while a de facto self-governing Praetonian territory, they preferred to chart their own course within the limits of the Treaty of Haversham. While Kahanistan could not declare war without Praetonian assent, it could, within the Kahanistanians' widest interpretation, deploy military forces to protect its own citizens abroad.

Senator Nikolatos would undoubtedly make this claim if the Clandonian radar could somehow spot the RAM-coated Su-30's despite many of the Kahanistanian labourers being informers to the government, saboteurs, or outright government agents - if he were outed as the mastermind. He would try to claim that the unit had planned the last-minute rescue without his knowledge. After all, he was a mere politician, and his military expertise had been limited to two years of national service as a young enlisted man, almost 20 years earlier.

---

1,000 kilometres outside Doomani waters

The fighters were now very low on fuel, and had about two hours left before Intel estimated the murders would take place. The refuelers were about half an hour away, but the trip overland, if the planes were not downed, and back would consume most of the fuel, if not all of it before leaving Doomani territorial waters.

Sklenova's plan to interrogate the refugees in Praetonia wasn't working too well - those memories would take too long to restore. The prisoners were now in the hands of a small strike wing of soldiers on a completely unofficial mission, with cyanide pills if they were to be captured. The soldiers had been shown a briefing film depicting the barbarity of the Doomani and carried the pills in their mouths, to bite down upon the instant they lost control of the planes - and the 100 kilogram explosive charges on the fuel tanks failed to go off.

The message had been recieved from the Clandonians, although the exact course of those planes was far from certain. In all likelihood they were heading somewhere else, but the fact that the Kahanistanis had vowed to get Valens back and the fact that the hour of his execution was so close was cause for concern. It was just enough to get suspicion up, and so ACID's air defense network on the mainland was told to be on the look out for a formation matching the description provided by the Clandonian photos, although they were also told "don't be surprised if they don't show."

It was more out of paranoia than anything: even when OTH RADAR picked up the formation well outside of Doomani waters it didn't raise an eyebrow. That was until ACID's computers began telling their RADAR operators that those planes were not airliners, and that no allied air forces had any exercises going on in the area. That increased the alertness just a bit; after all, Haven was a very massive place, and things like this happened all the time. However, it was when the computers began warning the operators that the planes were not adjusting course to stay out of Doomani air space that they knew something was up.

The Imperial Navy already had an increased presence in the area, and as such it was not long before a picket ship's RADAR picked up on the Kahanistani formation: adding the RAM did next to nothing for the enourmous Tu-160, and just slightly better for the Su-30s. Simply painting a conventional air frame with RADAR absorbant paint didn't make an aircraft too much stealthier than it already was. ACID was tied into the ship's RADAR, and it wasn't long before somebody pointed out that this particular formation was very similar to the one the Clandonians had sent intel regarding.

The captain of the frigate that had detected the aircraft was ordered to stand down and watch them; to act as if he didn't see them. It would be a long shot on the part of the Doomani because they had very little idea that the Kahanistanis had painted their aircraft with RAM and were expecting to be able to slip through the network, although the ironic thing was that to the Kahanistanis it would most likely look as if their camoflage was working. The reason for the Doomani hesitation to shoot them down on the spot was simple: they wanted to make sure they shot the aircraft down over land so the wreckage could easily be recovered. If they could recover a live pilot as well, that would be an even bigger bonus.

"Something smells fishy," said Lt. Colonel al-Jumari. He had not expected to be able to cross Doomani waters so easily, and he'd thought even an F-22 would have trouble getting across; they had only switched at the last moment to the larger Su-30 because they needed the range to penetrate deep into Doomani territory.

"I know," said Captain Moshe Eliyahu, the Tu-160's commander. "But... as it says in Sefer Vayikra, 19:16... you will not stand idly by your comrade's blood."

"Uh...?" asked the colonel.

"The Book of Leviticus," interjected Captain Shlomo Stein, one of the Su-30 pilots. "But... im ayn kemach, ayn Torah. Where there is no bread, there is no Torah."

"Can you guys quit the religious crap?" asked al-Jumari. "We're here to save thousands of people from religious fanatics, and we can't do that if we're too busy flapping our lips and get caught."

"What I'm saying is we have no religious imperative to intercede," said Stein as the planes crossed over land, having ascended to high altitude after refueling. "And the fact that we're sitting here, actually discussing religion rather than swallowing whatever a rabbi, or priest, or mullah says - shows what I've been saying all along."

"Which is?" asked 1Lt. Katie Mannis, eyeing the radar on the cockpit of her Su-30.

"That we're superior to the Doomani. We have an advantage. They think God... HaShem... is on their side, and that they can't lose. Victory disease (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victory_disease) should be setting in about now..."

"Oy gevalt!" bellowed Eliyahu. "Doomanazis on our six, about fifty kilometres off and closing. Clear up that reception on our radars so we can get missile locks. Find out how far we are from the Sanguinarium. By HaShem, let's give them what for!"

---

In the prison, the mighty prison, the war god sleeps tonight...

The prisoners knew what was coming - they had a strange sense of foreboding. The Doomani may have forgotten, but people in Kahanistan learned the heroic stories of resistance in the face of all odds, such as that during the Holocaust, most notably in the camps themselves.

When one of the cells opened to give the prisoners their last meal, Major Avner Heimberg, one of the strongest and most resistant to torture among the prisoners, brought his food tray down upon the head of his Doomani jailer and bellowed, "Shema Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad!"

Hear, O Israel, the Lord, our God, is one Lord.

Inspired by his battle cry, dozens of prisoners in the surrounding area also attacked, with food trays, chains, and when they managed to overpower a guard, even rifles. The common view in Kahanistan that "Doomani = Nazis" seemed to be paying off...

[OOC: If you think this is wank, well... it's a prison uprising, similar to that undertaken by the Jews of Sobibór (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sobibór_extermination_camp#The_uprising) or of Warsaw (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warsaw_Ghetto_Uprising) in late 1943. I don't expect to save most or even many of the prisoners.]

As the Kahanistani planes take off and begin to proceed out of the airspace, they are picked up by the network of radar aerostats and ground-based air defense sites Axis Nova has deployed all over Kahanistan as part of their treaty. Confusion at the unscheduled departure soon becomes consternation, and a transmission soon goes in to higher authority, which keeps kicking the ball up the line until it reaches the embassy. In short order a message is dispatched to the capitol, asking the Kahanistanis what the deal is with the unscheduled launch.

The base commander who had launched the planes struggled to come up with an answer. Not wishing to implicate Senator Nikolatos (and undermine his plans to become President in the next election) he claimed to have misread an order from the General Staff. The General Staff denied the order, naturally.

Within half an hour, President Sklenova was on the phone with an Axis Novan officer. She seemed very stressed; not only was Valens seemingly doomed, but now it looked like someone had gone rogue. She had an idea of the renegades' motives, but not who their commander was, or who was involved in it...

The thing most people forget about fighter RADAR is that it faces one way, as it is mounted forward-facing in the nose. To aleviate this, many fighters, evidently the Kahanistani Su-30MKIs in this case, sport rear-facing RADARs, which are generally far less powerful than the front-facing ones. That said, the vast majority of Doomani planes can only be detected at only the closest range even with front-facing fighter RADARs due to the simple fact that fighter RADARs simply aren't powerful enough to detect the majority of modern stealth aircraft, let alone the rear facing RADARs. The aircraft detected by the Kahanistanis in this case were much older ACI-45M Audax lightweight multirole fighters (upgraded with better avionics, RADAR, countermeasures, and thrust vectoring than the export model); ACID fielded a massive number of them due to their lack of expense, and ACID fighter pilots tended to start on these fighters before moving onto Aquilae or Atrati.

The squadron the Kahanistanis found themselves up against was Ala Tacticus Aerius MXXI Crematoria, the 1021st Crematorian Tactical Air Squadron. A twelve aircraft flight split into three finger-fours, they, as the Doomani usually do, found themselves up against a slightly numerically superior foe, although in this case the technology gap was more or less nonexistant. However, the Doomani had a clear advantage: all of the AWACS and land-based RADARs in the area were now illuminating the Kahanistani squadron.

The Doomani fighters had already loosed their missiles by the time the Kahanistanis picked them up; in fact, they'd fired off their AC.IX Sagitta medium range missiles from eighty kilometers away, as the Kahanistanis would find out when their missile alert systems started going off when the missiles came close enough to set them off (fighters generally don't rely on their main RADAR to detect missiles, the main reason being that missiles are very small and thus hard to detect). At that stage the missiles would have gone terminal, their IIR sensors rendering chaff and flare useless and their thrust vectoring engines allowing for them to make multiple passes, forcing the Kahanistanis into defensive maneuvering that would ultimately throw them off when the ACI-45Ms closed to engage with IR missiles, and more importantly prevent them from returning fire with BVR missiles as they wouldn't have enough time to achieve a lock by the time they'd have to start maneuvering to evade the Doomani missiles.

The Kahanistanis were extremely fortunate in that each fighter carried only two Sagitta missiles, their remaining hardpoints occupied by ATAIM-8 missiles (with two mounted on the underwing and fuselage pylons, one on each wingtip), six total. If the Kahanistanis expected to be dealing with overconfident foes they were very mistaken; the young pilots of the fighters were extremely calm as they throttled forward. These men were professionals; trained from birth for the purpose of piloting the Caesar's fighters. They would almost certainly had more time in the cockpit than their Kahanistani counterparts and far more training; not only timewise, but effectiveness-wise considering the amount of wars ACID had taken part in, granting it a massive supply of veteran pilots who had seen actual combat to train new pilots.

Once the fighters came within some thirty-five kilometers they would loose three of their ATAIM-8s, who's terminal stage took them to mach three, making them incredibly difficult to dodge the first time, and maintained the thrust vectoring to continue to hunt the enemy aircraft just as the predecessor missiles had, putting the Kahanistanis in a very vulnerable position. And of course, the missiles were essentially immune to conventional countermeasures such as chaff and flare thanks to their dual EO/IIR seeker heads, which could distinguish between the aircraft and their decoys due to their image based software (one could easily visually distinguish the difference between a flare or chaff bundle and an aircraft, and that was common esnse).

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sanguinarium, Damnatium

When the mal-nourished prisoner hit him over the head with his tray, Cornicern Marcus Brocchus was a bit surprised. As the man's muscles had essentially withered to nothing over the past three grueling years in solitary confinement, in which he was fed just enough to keep him alive (most of the time the prisoners were made to eat their own feces), he hadn't been able to hit Marcus, who was wearing a helmet, very hard.

Brocchus was actualy doing the man a favor by actualy opening the door to give him the food on a tray; most of the prisoners simply had their food pushed through a slit in the door. In fact, for the vast majority, the only human contact they had had in the past 3 years was in the torture chamber with their captors. As a result, many of them had gone insane in their tiny cells, although Major Avner Heimberg had prooved disciplined and tough to break, maintaining his sanity throughout his captivity. None of them, save for the ones taken out into the courtyard to be crucified or burned, had seen daylight since the day they'd arrived.

Brocchus was clearly puzzled by the man's actions; the muscular, 240lb, 6'2" Legionary picked Heimberg up by the throat with a single arm and stared at him emotionlessly. He started laughing and shoved him back into his 3x3 foot cell in a harsh fashion, taking the tray and food and tossing it into the hallway.

"Fine, you can eat shit tonight, Avner; literally of course," he said laughing as he slammed the steel cell door shut.

Brocchus also put him down for an appointment in the Tortorum the following morning. The Doomani rarely executed anyone at the Sanguinarium, save for the insane ones that they got bored of torturing; they knew that there were things far worse than death, and that was precisely what Heimburg was experiencing. He would live, most likely for many more years (until he'd gone insane and started to bore his captors, most likely), as the Doomani were extremely careful in preventing suicides. There were things far worse than death. That was the entire purpose of the Sanguinarium.

[Statement from the Department of Foreign Affairs]

The Militaristic Federation of Tyrandis approves of the impending execution of the lowly criminal Marcellus Valens, whose wretched crimes against mankind and the laws of war speak for themselves. Our government applauds the Doomani for their fair and impartial judgment of the crazed dictator. Tyrandis salutes Caesar Maximus for ridding the world of this menace - we hope that his end is swift and certain. The progress of civilization on this earth shall be furthered when the demise of Valens is complete. If it would please the esteemed tribunal of Doomingsland, the Militaristic Federation wishes to send Director Hitomi Mikazawa to observe the joyous proceedings.

These pilots were among the few surviving veterans of the last wars; their ranks were severely inflated for this mission. A lieutenant colonel normally commanded a wing of 20 aircraft, but with the loss of so many officers and promotions of nearly all survivors, the ranks to be filled with new recruits, the higher ranking officers tended to be the equal of their foes in training and experience.

"Incoming enemy missile!" said the defensive systems operator on the Tu-160, whose massive bulk (and immense RCS, relative to those of the Su-30's or ACI-45M's) made it ideal for mounting radar systems to use it as a mini-AWACS. While the Su-30's also had this capability, they generally didn't use it in infiltration scenarios unless they'd lost their Tu-160 or other escort... which seemed now that it might have a lot of trouble staying in the air long enough to close to 3,000 kilometres of the Sanguinarium to loose its three Kh-55 Raduga cruise missiles.

"Try to jam it," said the commander. "We've just got... another 900 kilometres of this to go before we can fire." The D.S.O. worked frantically to jam up the incoming enemy missiles while the commander accelerated to Mach 2.05, the Tu-160's maximum speed. At this rate, if they made it, they could look forward to two and a half hours of this fun.

The Su-30's, normally not willing to fight up close and increase their RCS'es, left two of their number to fight the Doomani. As was incorporated into their training, they let off flares, though their effectiveness at this close range was disputed, before attempting a complicated flip manouevre, pulling up in order to give the missile time to go after the flare instead and give them time to launch their own R-77 active radar homing missiles, which had a range of 100 kilometres. While Kahanistanian pilots were trained for dogfighting, they preferred to do it over their own territory, where it was a better idea to make the enemy jettison their weaponry. Their training here, where intervention was not a major part of their training, might actually work against them here. Their crews made sure their cyanide pills were securely in their mouths...

The Tu-160's DSO had made a fatal flaw; by activating his ECM, the Sagitta missiles assigned to track him could now use their home-on-jam capabilities. He was actualy helping his enemies to find his aircraft. The missile would follow the jamming signal (using active RADAR if needed if he wised up and turned off his jammer pod, although he wouldn't have known the Doomani were using home-on-jam necessarily) to the point where the missiles could use their IIR/EO seekerheads by which time they would have gone terminal and there would be no escape for the massive bomber, which would be a sitting duck for the missiles, which were traveling at mach four, twice the speed of the Tu-160. In fact, the Kahanistanis were actualy making it easier for the IIR/EO seekerheads to pick them up by traveling at such a high speed, as their IR signature drastically increased, and the same held true for the Su-30MKIs escorting the bomber. Despite fleeing with the intention of escaping the fighters, the Kahanistanis would find that the missiles fired by the Doomani fighters were right on their asses.

Trying to make the missile run out of fuel by keeping just ahead of them would have been a futile attempt as well, as the missiles had a maximum range in excess of 180 kilometers. Despite their experience, the Kahanistani pilots had made a very large number of fatal mistakes. While they could have left the more fighters behind where they had a fairly good chance of coming out on top in a dogfight against the ACI-45Ms, they had instead chosen to flee, leaving two of their fighters to be horrendously outnumbered, which in turn would allow most of the Doomani formation to simply bypass them and continue the chase.

Meanwhile, the attempt to jam the incoming Sagitta missiles by the two fighters that had stayed behind would also have failed, as the EO portion of the seekerhead as well as the active RADAR would have seen right past the flares and adjusted heading to go after the fighter, which would have been recovering from a difficult maneuver; because it was an unmanned airframe, the missiles would have had the potential to be far more maneuverable than the Su-30MKIs, especially at high speed, and as a result the unfortunate pilots who had chosen to stay behind would find themselves in a really bad situation.

As all fighter pilots know, being outnumbered in a dogfight is decidedly a very, very bad thing; as a result a formation of four aircraft split off from the main formation to go after the two Su-30s that had remained behind (if any of them were still alive after the Sagitta missiles had gotten through with them) while the rest accelerated to their maximum spring speed of mach 2.3 to try to catch up with the rest of the enemy planes (provided any of them were still alive). The four splitting off to engage the other two would have gone two to a plane, each loosing a pair of ATAIM-8 missiles from a range of 32km to force the Su-30s to have to evade not one, not two, but four of those pesky, persistant missiles (each ATAIM-8 had a kill probability in excess of 95%, so statistics weren't on the side of the Kahanistanis either) at once, something that was considered to be physically impossible by most considering all would have been maneuvering independantly of one another to kill their targets (provided they failed to kill the fighter on the first past, which was just as unlikely); this would force the Kahanistani pilots to try to evade the missiles while the Doomani fighters simultaneously came at them from multiple angles.

Needless to say this would be a very bad situation for them: not only were they trying to evade four missiles at once, which were fully capable of turning for further passes, but they now each had to worry about two fighters approaching from different angles. If they attempted to turn and face their attackers they'd have to stop defensive maneuvering, which would result in the missiles promptly blowing them apart. If they continued their maneuvering (if they were alive at this stage), the Doomani pilots could sit back and fire even more missiles, or, worse, go in for a gun kill with their lethal 23mm cannons. And of course there was one major factor the Kahanistani pilots would need to remember: they had cyanide pills in their mouths. If they maneuvered to violently (as they would need to be doing just to stay alive), there was a very good chance they could accidentally injest them.

Meanwhile, surface-to-air missile batteries on the ground began to warm up; if the Sagitta missiles fired at the fleeing planes failed to destroy their targets, land-based Apostle III missiles would be lobbed in generous numbers as well as hundreds of rounds of RADAR-guided 105mm anti-aircraft shells immediately after. After all, countless wars had proven that the most lethal threat to a fighter is not the surface-to-air missile, but the anti-aircraft gun: you can jam a missile, but you can't jam a bullet. There was no way the Doomani would allow the Kahanistanis to advance another fifty kilometers...

The Tu-160, moving at half the speed of the enemy missiles and broadcasting a radar signal the size of an entire fleet, was fucked. It took four missiles right up the tailpipe and exploded like a giant firework 15,000 kilometres above ground, incinerating those who had not had time to swallow their pills. The fighters did not have Kh-55's, and would therefore have to close to far less than 3,000 kilometres from the Sanguinarium to open fire.

The two fighters remaining behind did not expect to survive the operation; in fact, none of the crew did. Their mission was merely to infiltrate, bomb the prison, and enable a few (hundred) of the prisoners to escape, with only a scant possibility of survival themselves. One of them, with six missiles on his tail, attempted a dangerous looping move over a nearby Doomani fighter, intending to get it killed, too, but the sheer number of missiles meant that it couldn't avoid all of them, and the plane was blown out of the sky.

The other plane, now outnumbered three or four to one, seemed like it was fucked too. The Su-30 was ideal for homeland defence, but not for invasion, and KMI had yet to design an aircraft with the range and firepower of the Su-30 that was also stealthy - there were very few applications like this one.

On the other hand, it was piloted by Captain Michal Zal. 42 years old, with 15 years of aircraft experience, having lost her husband and three proud Jewish sons to the Doomani, and fed up with not only their "evil religion" but also their sexism (she had never seen one Doomani woman among the millions of invaders), she was determined, if not to win, at least to kill as many of these Catholic bastards as she could.

Swooping down from 17,500 metres at high G, she descended rapidly to 6,000 metres - the lowest she dared fly here. She didn't know what the enemy had on the ground, but few shells went this high and missiles jammed a hell of a lot easier than shells. At 6,000 metres, she pulled upwards and fired a missile.

The four advance fighters now had but one goal, to get close to the Sanguinarium and do what damage they could. Their speed of Mach 2 was slightly inferior to that of the Doomani fighters, but they also had more firepower - 10 missiles per plane. If bad came to worse, they could make a suicide crash at the Sanguinarium... if they made it that far.

The Kahanistani pilot's downward spiral with the rest of the four fighters approaching from multiple angles was quite simply the wrong move; turning her back to all four of her attackers to dive gave them all an oppurtunity to simply loose a few more missiles, which would promptly chase her downwards as she dove, the missiles traveling in excess of speeds of mach three (realistically the fighters involved would all have been maneuvering at subsonic speed during the dogfight). As soon as she pulled up she would have seen another few missiles about to tear into her aircraft directly in front of her with virtually no time to maneuver after the stunt she had pulled.

However, the missile she'd gotten off was of the short-range variety; considering that the Kahanistanis were using R-77 missiles, it was probably a more modern R-73 variant, meaning that it could potentially find a target after launch- which it did. Tribune Gaius Torensus saw the white spiral of the missile's exhaust screaming towards him as his missile alert systems started buzzing ever so loudly; he immediately began defensive maneuvers, realising chaff and flare, but at the close range his foe had fired the missile he'd had little time to react. The aircraft shook and suddenly the controls stopped responding; he felt as if the aircraft suddenly weighed half as much as it did. Looking behind, he saw the rear section of the airframe break apart. At that stage he was grabbing the ignition chord on the ejection seat; the next thing he knew he was several thousand feet in the air, outside of his cockpit, nothing below but thousands of miles of desert. His chute kicked in moments later, and it was a long trip down to the Crematorian surface from there.

A hundred or so kilometers away, VLS cells on the ground began to go hot; Aposlte III missiles began exploding out of their launch tubes, eight missiles total rocketing into the clear sky. The four Kahanistani fighters headed toward the prison had literally every RADAR in in the area lighting them up. Trying to jam them would have been utterly futile considering the sheer power of the land and air based systems by themselves on top of the sheer number of them. The missiles homed in on the enemy planes via these RADARs, making the missiles themselves even more difficult to jam, going terminal with their own active RADAR and closing it at speeds in excess of mach four, finally using their IR/EO seekerheads to ensure they found their mark, while maintaining the readiness to turn for another pass in case they missed...

OOC:

1. To my knowledge, rabbinical teaching has it that a Jew who dies protecting the life of another Jew, or protecting a Torah scroll from desecration, ascends to the Next World without consideration for his previous biography, sins, etc.
2. Telegram for Kahanistan.

Michal now had at least fifteen missiles riding her ass - that she could count; that was all her radar could process at once. Normally, a devout Jew would recite the Shema Yisrael, but she had other plans. She smiled warmly as the Doomani plane exploded.

"Mi kamocha ba'elim, Adonai, mi kamocha nedar bakodesh."*

The Doomani missiles were too fast, and too numerous, for her to outrun or outmanoeuvre, and Judaism frowned on suicide. Michal did notice her WSO had swallowed his pill, rather than see himself tortured to death, or her raped by the Doomani. While most people in Kahanistan were not the most religiously observant people in the world (in fact, freedom of religion had been a major fueling point for popular hostility toward the Doomani), Michal didn't like the idea of killing herself. She aimed her aircraft toward what she thought was a Doomani air defence centre.

"Norah t'hilot, oseh feleh."**

The Jewish concept of pikuach nefesh*** meant that virtually any commandment could be violated if it saved lives, and certainly killing Doomani would fall under that heading. Michal repeated the verse again as she thanked HaShem for providing her with a merciful end that did not result in sinning against him.

---

Trying to outmanoeuvre the missiles was simply crazy - no sooner would one be dodged than another would be right in their faces. Chaff and flares were nice when they could be disgorged in time, but even a fighter as large as an Su-30 could only hold so much, and it didn't seem too effective.

Military operations should have been left to the generals and not some politician who wanted to make himself a hero. On top of that, the murders were scheduled in a half an hour, and the fighters were nearly two hours away, even if they didn't have the Doomies chasing them. One fighter's RADAR was overrun and the computer crashed, unable to receive information from its neighbours' RADAR either. Another had blown its engine exceeding its V-NE in a desperate attempt to make it to the Sanguinarium.

---

[*"Who is like thee among the mighty, O Lord? Who is like thee? There is none else."
**"You are awesome in praise, doing wonders." (Exodus 15:11)
***"Guarding of life."]

Kahanistan

The dogfight was actualy occuring over a barren patch of desert; the missiles that had been fired from the ground had actualy been fired at the four fighters that were heading towards the Sanguinarium (hence the immense amount of RADARs lighting them up), and not Michal's plane. As a result Michal ended up plowing her plane into the ground. Above, the three ACI-45Ms circled in victory over the wreckage of the two enemy aircraft and the one friendly aircraft. The rescue helo was only twenty minutes away, so Torensus wouldn't have to wait for long after hitting the ground. Recovery teams were also being dispatched to sift through the wreckage and to comb the desert for more fragments of the aircraft. The Doomani already had the photos taken by the Clandonians, and so they now needed more proof to link this to the Kahanistanis. The Doomani knew from their Praetonian and Clandonian allies that the Kahanistanis used both Tu-160s and Su-30MKIs in their airforce, and there would almost certainly be factory identification markings on the parts. In all likelihood, the Praetonians and Clandonians would have an idea as to the various markings used in Kahanistani factories.

Nod

OOC:That "LEGAL" flight lane you're in is actualy in another country's airspace, as the straights you'd have to be over in order to be coming at me from my northwest would put you over Generia. I'll let it go this time but do your homework next time plz (you know, TG me?).

IC:

The Nod troops had actualy dropped in in one of the worst possible areas they could possibly have dropped; far from the capital and in one of the most heavily militarized zone in the entire Imperium. Due to its proximity with Generia, the alert status of this area was always high, and the amount of anti-aircraft emplacements and picket ships would make it virtually impossible for the glider troops to go undetected; after all, it had been speculated before that the Generians could use glider-bourne troops to try to stage an incursion, and wooden gliders are virtually impossible to detect via RADAR or infrared. As a result, the amount of electro-optical and visual-based tracking systems defending the area was quite large.

Perhaps the dumbest mistake made by Nod was the fact they were dropping their troops outside of Doomani airspace, meaning that they would have to be over two hundred miles away from the coast. With the amount of Imperial Navy ships patrolling those waters and the fact that there were people on the decks of those ships performing visual watches, and the fact that Nod was dropping its troops in broad daylight meant that they were spotted after only fifty miles of gliding by a frigate, which then broadcasted the position of the gliding troops to every other ship and fighter in the area, as well as the coastal air defense command, although the amount of firepower that was about to be brought down on the Black Hand operators would most likely make it impossible for them to even make it the rest of the 150 miles- especially considering the extremely slow speeds they would be moving at.

Many of the Type 2300-class frigate's crew came out on deck to watch the carnage unfold as the vessel's twin 82mm rapidfire guns opened up on the gliding soldiers from a good five miles away, pumping out shells at a rate of 120 rounds per minute. The guns had been loaded with AHEAD-type shells, meaning that each shell was packed with thousands of tungsten flechettes capable of shredding both an aircraft (or, in this case, a man) with ease while covering a very large amount of sky with just a single shell, the shells being set to directionaly burst from a distance that would allow the most effecient coverage of the formation. With laser range finders being used to determine the range of the enemy, programming the shells was not difficult in the slightest, and the sheer number sent downrange meant that there wouldn't be much left in the sky within a few seconds. Marines also stood on deck with their AVIR rifles to shoot anyone that managed to get too close for comfort.

OOC: Uh water? Do you have a map of your nation? I was going by something else.
If you know my post was flawed however the logical response is that you don't respond to it, I'm not accepting your post. (Waits for the IGNORE cannons from Doomingland)

OOC:Um, what exactly WERE you going by?

Another plane on the way to the Sanguinarium exploded in a storm of missiles, having flown too low and coming within range of the ground defences - and it was one of the planes whose computer hadn't crashed and whose engine hadn't blown. The plane whose engine blew ended up going down in a very isolated part of the desert, its crew biting down on their pills.

The only hope for stopping the murder of thousands of POW's now rested on... one healthy Su-30 and one with a crashed computer. Doomani airspace was vast and it was difficult enough to navigate it with everything in working order, especially if one's knowledge of geography did not keep up with the Doomani political climate. For example, maps of Doomingsland made in Kahanistan did not recognise Iudaea or Nuclearum as Doomani provinces, and much of the information about mainland Doomanum was 30 or more years out of date. Navigating territory with horrifically outdated info was next to impossible, so the plane with the bad computer was now trying to keep a visual on the "healthy" Su-30... if it stayed in the air that long.

The Su-30MKI simply didn't have the sort of cieling needed to escape the Apostle III missile, and with nothing but clear skies to hide them at their altitudes, RADAR had no difficulty in tracking them. The surviving two aircraft had scarcely made it another ten kilometers from the area their comrade had been downed before another four SAMs were launched, two per aircraft. Once again, every RADAR in the area was tracking the two planes and feeding the missiles data, so trying to jam them would be pointless, and trying to dodge them would be extremely difficult. At this stage there was little the Kahanistanis could do but pray that their luck didn't run out, and it seemed as if their luck had been stretched to the breaking point...

The pilots were among the most experienced in the Kahanistanian Air Force. It was a tragedy that such potential would be gambled on a long-shot chance of rescuing an old war hero whom Intel incorrectly assumed was still in the prison.

However, gambles are not without their potential returns. The Su-30 MKI's' ceiling of 20,000 metres allowed them to avoid the Apostle III missiles relatively easily, but there was still the pursuing enemy to deal with, and apparently, the two who stayed behind had been lost.

On the other hand, the difficult manoeuvres, while effective, consumed fuel and flight time that would have been better used in a straight-line path for their destination. Five hundred kilometres from their destination, the Su-30's barely had fuel for one hundred kilometres at high altitude and gradual descent - conditions that the enemy was making it next to impossible to attain...

Unfortunately, flying at a meagre 59,000 feet did absolutely nothing to protect the Kahanistani fighters, especially considering the Apostle III missile had a cieling in excess of 85,000 feet. As a result, the four missiles continued to go after the enemy fighters with the same ferocity they normally would. Doomani RADAR operators were extremely puzzled as to why the Kahanistanis thought that flying at 59,000 feet would protect them from SAMs; even the extremely crude and primitive SA-2 surface-to-air missile, technology from the 1950s, could kill targets at altitudes exceeding 80,000 feet.

Apparently the Kahanistani Air Force had forgotten to tell their fighter pilots that flying at the sort of altitude they were actualy makes it easier for surface-to-air missiles to track them. The tactic of flying high had long been abandoned by the world's air forces (since the 60s and 70s in fact, being phased out in favor of low altitude penetration tactics) except in the case of aircraft flying at extreme altitude, such as those flying in the upper atmosphere. The Su-30MKI was definately not capable of flying in the upper atmosphere...

[20,000 m = 65,617 ft, but I'll let it go. :)]

The missiles would have to actually travel more than 65,000 feet, as aircraft do not normally fly in a straight line when piloted by men or women with an acute sense of their own mortality... or the mortalities of the people they are sent to save. They tend to pull complicated moves like flips in the air or high-G dives to shake them.

There were missions when low flight was called for, e.g. underflying radar when SEAD was unavailable - a tactic they'd used against Kraven before - but in this case the sheer amount of flak at the ground made going within range of that a... most dangerous option indeed. Also, fuel was at a premium and lower air resistance meant less fuel consumption. They weren't about to bring a refueler into territory where Su-30's had a difficult time staying in the air.

Needless to say, however, when one of your computers is shit, you can't detect the missile until it is right up your ass. The aircraft whose computer had crashed due to the missile load took two direct hits. The other aircraft, low on fuel, began a slow descent; if whatever god(s?) there were were on his side, he might be able to put a missile through the Sanguinarium's wall. A freed prisoner was a dangerous one, and enough of them would hopefully be able to spark a general uprising and save more people than they'd lose sending the planes in...

OOC:Argh, Wikipedia is a filthy, filthy liar...

IC:

Obviously the missile would have had to travel more than 65,000 feet; however a cieling exceeding 85,000 feet was not the same as range. It meant that the missile could engage targets at its maximum range (in the case of the Apostle III, over 250km) at that altitude. As a result the remaining fighter would not get very far after the Doomani realized he'd somehow evaded the last volley. Still some 480km (one must realize that the entire scenario was occuring over a matter of seconds, as air combat usually does) from the Sanguinarium, he now had another four Apostle missiles rocketing up at over mach four towards him even as he descended with low fuel.

The descent would make him even more vulnerable, as once he started coming near 56,000 feet he would be right in range of the heavier tripple-A used by the Doomani, the twin 105mm Bootscraper system which fired modern sensor fused 105mm AHEAD shells out of an L/70 barrel using electro-thermal chemical ammunition and ignition. A single 105mm AHEAD shell could plaster an immense swathe of sky with tungsten flechette; a single Bootscraper system could put sixty rounds into the air in a single minute, and the lone Su-30MKI would have over a dozen Bootscapers firing at once, and with the systems using computerized targetting systems interfaced with the RADARs, not destroying their target would be a statistical impossibility.

The Su-30 closed to 17,000 metres (56,000 feet) during its descent. At this altitude, its pilot knew the aircraft would go down soon. By the time its fuel was nearly exhausted, the missiles were the least of their worries.

"Open fire." It was now or never; fuel was almost out and there were four missiles riding their ass.

The Su-30 loosed a Kh-59 standoff missile, whose stated range was 115 kilometres. At this altitude, it might stand a chance of travelling farther. It also disgorged an S-8 rocket pod (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Su-30MKI#Weapons_and_payload), though its range and capability was uncertain. It had 80 unguided rockets.

This was the last chance they had to fire. The pilot and copilot prayed to HaShem and Jesus, respectively, then bit down on their cyanide pills.

Despite its altitude, the Su-30 was far to far away for its missile to even see its target let alone reach it. As a result the missile would end up crashing into the desert. The S-8 rocket pods, weapons with extremely short range, fell even shorter (unsurprisingly), and like the Kh-59 ended up slamming into the Crematorian desert far below. The deserts would soon be swarming with recovery teams, hunting for pilots and wreckage. They would find none of the former as all had wisely chosen to commit suicide rather than fall into Doomani hands, but plenty of the later. Arrangements had been made with the Clandonians and Praetonians to bring in analysis teams from both nations to help sift through the wreckage in order to confirm that it was in fact Kahanistani in origin.

OOC: I guess I'll start the games tommorow...don't really feel like doing it tonight...

Near where Torensus had crashed, a reasonably intact pilot's body would be found - aged between 40 and 45, around 5'6", average weight... and female. If the Doomani were half as misogynist as the popular view in Kahanistan held, this would be very emasculating for him, far more so than simply being downed by an "infidel" (which could happen to anyone - probably 99% of their enemies would be "infidels.") "Reasonably intact" in this case meant "semi-recognisable" as the bodies in the plane had been severely charred when the plane went down with half a tank of fuel.

Back home, Senator Aristakis Nikolatos was confident that his missiles had struck home. As he spoke fluent Doomani Latin (as well as Greek, Hebrew, Pacitalian, and of course, English), he turned his TV in his office to a Doomani station, expecting to hear glorious tales of the prison uprising he expected to be taking place, with the heroic warriors of Kahanistan (and the numerous other countries that had waged war with Doomingsland) in the prison rising up against their evil oppressors. Of course, he expected a pro-Doomani slant on it, but he'd like to hear how that muscle-bound son of a bitch Maximus was going to slant this other than thousands of desperate people literally fighting for their lives.

You are watching Veritas: Fair and unbiased State and Church-approved news!

The Veritas logo flew across the screen, while a three dimensional graphic flashed words 'BREAKING NEWS' at the top of the screen. Once again, Marius Carbo and Livia Alba, Veritas' two main anchors, appeared on screen, both smiling warmly. The camera focused on Alba's pretty face with a high definition photo of one of the Su-30MKIs being blown apart by an Apostle missile appearing in the upper left corner. Above the pictures were the words "Attempted Terrorist Attack Crushed by ACID."

"Just moments ago Veritas recieved word that an attempted terrorist attack on Imperial soil was crushed by the brave pilots and air defense personnel of Caersar's might air force. ACID has released few details save for the fact that a total of seven enemy aircraft have been shot down over Crematoria- including a strategic bomber -without the loss of any Christian lives," she said in a happy tone to the camera, which flashed to Carbo.

"Veritas querried ACID and government officials regarding the attack. Officials were not prepared to release many details; however, they have confirmed that they had prior warning of the attacks courtesy of our glorious allies who have yet to be named. Officials have also confirmed that they are aware of the identities of the attackers. The Officio Nuntiorum has released a statement stating that 'Those who have initiated these attacks will be brought to justice in a swift and agonizingly painful manner. There is nowhere these cowardly heathen scum can go where we will not find them. Imperial Citizens can rest assured that those responsible will die deaths not of natural causes.' Several ACID officials have speculated as to the targets of these failed attacks, the most obvious of them being the Colliseum where they would have been able to inflict tens of thousands of civilian deaths. Should this theory turn out to be true, the consequences for those who attempted the attacks will be of massive proportions. We go now to our ACID correspondant, Legatus Aerius Caecilius Dio. Sir, what comments do you have regarding the tactics used by those attempting to do harm to Imperial citizenry?"

The camera flashes to an aged yet fit man in the gold-trimmed black dress uniform of a Doomani Legatus, his peaked cap featuring ACID's winged Crusader's Death's Head to signify his service.

"My comments are that the pilots were among the most foolish I personally have ever seen, save perhaps for the Kahanistanis of course," it was common knowledge that ACID had virtually no respect for the Kahanistani Air Force- after all, the losses it had inflicted on it during the last two wars were extremely hard to dismiss, "Their tactics were simply mind-boggling. Many of my colleagues and myself are still trying to figure out why someone would entrust a multi-million denarii aircraft to somebody who doesn't know basic air combat and aerial penetration tactics. To be quite honest with you, these people weren't even a legitimate threat- in fact, we allowed them to fly over Crematorian soil for the sole purpose of more easily recovering the wreckage of their aircraft! However, they commited an extremely serious crime by conspiring to do harm to Imperial citizenry, and I am confident that the Imperium will see those behind this laughable attempt at that brought to justice," as he spoke, gun camera footage from the Audax fighters was played in the background, showing as the two Kahanistani fighters that had stayed behind to try to hold back the formation were blown out of the sky, although the image of Torensus' aircraft taking an R-73 to the tail assembly was conveniently off-screen.

Further images of Apostle III missiles taking down their targets, and 105mm tripple-A practically vaporizing an enemy airframe were also looped.

"Thank you, sir. Now, brothers and sisters, we go to the Colliseum, where in twenty minutes the games are scheduled to commence..."

Anti-Catholic Party Headquarters, New Masada, Capital of Kahanistan

Nikolatos threw his wine glass across the room, spraying fifty-year-old champagne all over his high definition TV set. He had poured the glass and hoped to revel in the triumph of his forces against evil, but now he was furious.

It wasn't so much the Doomani contempt for the skills of his pilots that irritated him, nor the threat against him; he would expect nothing less. It was more that his pilots had failed him, and far from being called a hero of the Republic, he would be reviled as the man who sent a dozen brave men and women to their deaths. That was, of course, if the Doomani ever traced him. Of course, he couldn't be too trusting of the Praetonians, either - he knew better than to trust an ally of the Doomani after many of his colleagues in the Senate had made that mistake and paid for it with their lives. True, Nikolatos had voted for the Treaty of Haversham, but he had interpreted it as allowing for the protection or defence of his own citizens abroad and that only a declaration of war required permission.

Enraged, he strode off to the shower to wash up and change into professional attire. He had to give very bad news to the Anti-Catholic Party.

Ten minutes later, one of his secretaries had wiped the champagne off his TV set and he was in professional attire, a dark suit jacket, trousers, and tie like one might see on any Western politician. A camera was on him. Senator Aristakis Nikolatos was a tall Greek man in his late 30's, with a Mediterranean complexion and thick build, around 185 cm (6'1") and 100 kilograms (roughly 225 pounds). He spoke with a very commanding voice as the camera rolled. Behind him, footage of the South Park episode Bloody Mary (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloody_Mary_(South_Park)) played with an English subtitle and one in Doomani Latin. However, there was no audio; Nikolatos wanted listeners to hear his voice.

"People of Kahanistan, we have been betrayed," he said. "The Doomani are planning to murder many of our citizenry, chas vechalila, God forbid. As in our previous conflict, among our allies, only the Allaneans have the balls to even speak out." He did not mention the planes; he still hoped that Canadstein would be framed and bombed into the Stone Age. He certainly wasn't going to relocate a third time.

"We have been betrayed by our Praetonian protectors. No sooner was the ink dry on the Treaty of Haversham, which I so foolishly voted for under the impression it would make us strong against our enemies, than the Praetonians rejoined APOC. They preach liberalism and democracy and personal freedom to us, ideals we have cherished for many years since we became a democracy so long ago. Now, they barely attempt to free more than a token handful of prisoners of war, and they totally support Maximus and the Doomani Catholic Nazis, yimach shmam vezichram. May their names and memories be obliterated. Mad King George, indeed. He should die of cancer, that lying fraud, that phony. Yimach shmo vezichro."

"Now, our President... Miss Sklenova is young and naive. She believes that we can exchange embassies with the Doomani Catholic Nazis, and she believes that we can negotiate peaceably with them, and have civilised relations with them. She's a young, foolish girl, she's only 33, she's the youngest President we've had in 40 years. When Helldawg V, yimach shmo vezichro, died of AIDS, thankfully, and went to whatever part of Hell all Catholics go to, especially those who rape little boys, the leftists like Margaret Delray, our left-wing Foreign Minister back then, sent a letter to the new Catholic Nazi Hitler Maximus and offered condolences. She even held on for a few days to give him time to grieve. The bastard was probably too busy raping little boys and mixing Jewish and Muslim blood into his communion wafers. Sklenova's even more naive than Delray. She wants an embassy on our soil that Manus Dei can use to plan terrorist attacks and put ambassadors on Doomani soil to be held hostage. She's already trying to get Kahanistan to commit national suicide."

"It's absolutely insane. And on top of that, she's appointed filthy Catholics, General Mustafa Lavalle, our Minister of Defence, more accurately our Minister of Giving Away All of Kahanistan to the Doomani Catholic Nazis, and Dr. Dragomir Karovic, Minister of Foreign Affairs, who's a complete sellout to the Praetonians, a blatant traitor, he should be shot for treason, or sent to live in Doomingsland with his Catholic brethren, to our cabinet. Of course, the last Foreign Minister is a self-hating Jew, who wants to import Catholic 'refugees', supposed political dissidents from Doomingsland to live here and spread their Hitlerian Nazism, and had an affair with the Catholic Hitler Adam Wincenty, the terrorist dictator of Merde des Ennuis, luckily she's in Allanea now where she can't do too much damage. 100% self-hating. I'm not even Jewish, I'm a Greek Orthodox Christian and I can tell a self-hating Jew when I see one."

"These demonic Catholic serpents we already have in our midst must be deported. Now, I'm not saying we kill any of the Catholics. We aren't like the Doomani Nazis, we're a civilised, law-abiding party, we're not about upending religious freedom, we'll let Jews, and Muslims, and pagans, and non-Catholic Christians, and atheists, and what have you, practice their religion. But just as I wouldn't endorse a religion that teaches people to offer human sacrifice, or torture, I won't allow a religion that preaches hate and murder of all non-Catholics. This is a war that Catholicism has imposed on all non-Catholics, a war that the Inquisition began when they imposed this evil religion. Catholicism is a cancer on this Earth, and if it cannot be destroyed, it must be contained. We encourage Catholics to move to Catholic countries and stay there. We're not Nazis, chas vechalila. We have no desire to build camps, or conduct mass killings like the ones the German Nazis perpetrated, or the Doomani Nazis perpetrate. 40% of our members are Jewish. We're a right-wing, civil rights party, and we're willing to safeguard the civil rights of our people by any means necessary, with or without Praetonian assent. Jai Hind."

After the speech, the Anti-Catholic Party members and politicians in attendance clapped their hands in applause, cheering and applauding the Senator, their minds focused more on him than on the murders taking place on another channel.

Fortunately for Kahanistan's Catholics, the National Police, local police, and military reserves were guarding the churches and places of worship in anticipation of a massive pogrom like that which had started at the beginning of the last Doomani invasion, which had driven millions of Catholics from their homes. Roadblocks were up to protect the Catholic churches, and congregants brought their weapons to church, just in case.

OOC: The below post is IC only, and should not be taken as an indication of my IC opinions of any player or nation.

IC:
At the anti-Catholic Party HQ, Kahanistan

Allanean SIGINT was quite as good as the Doomani, and the Kahanistani government was penetrated in many places by agents of the Allanean Central Intelligence Agency. And so, even as the Senator was relaxing with his champagne, two men knocked on his door and asked to speak to him. Their message was clear.
"We know everything. We have proof that the Catholics and their lackeys know, or will know soon. You must relocate yourself to safety abroad immediately. We will help. You must come with us as soon as you can."

Elsewhere, millions of Allaneans and others, were watching the newest upload on Kazansky's personal NSYoutube channel.

Official Message from Alexander Kazansky, regarding the supposed attack on Doomani territory.

Dear friends!

Today, I wish to apologize to you all.

For a while, Allanea was a member of ACID. Many of us – including myself – believed at that time that an alliance with Doomingsland, among other nations, was morally justifiable on the grounds of staving off the threat of world communism. Today, we are reminded of just how wrong we were when we believed that.

What happened today?

In terms of physical fact, nothing important. A flight of foreign aircraft of unknown national affiliation tried to infiltrate Doomingsland, and failed utterly. Given the fact the Doomani government, scummy bunch of theocrat cocksucking neocons that they are, have turned their country into a veritable prison the size of a continent, I suppose some illegal attempts of infiltration happen every day – it's just they don't always use Sukhois.

But in terms of the essence of events, what really happened today?

Someone, somewhere, tried a rescue operation. Someone was trying to get Valens out of Doomingsland, because the idiot Doomani cocksucker theocrat neocons, who have no balls by the way, are going to try and execute him on invented, trumped-up charges after a trial by their so-called 'court'.

Now, it was naturally a silly idea – you can't rescue a man imprisoned inside a sovereign country if the country has a mind to killing him – especially if the country has a fetish for stealth aircraft, and you are an amateur who can't make out the difference between an aircraft's tail and its left wing. But it was a far more noble idea than what the Praetonians and the Clandonians and the Tyrandians and the Brettonians did.

According to Allanean SIGINT, the Clandonians actually helped the Doomani fascist scum by alerting them about the so-called 'attack'. The Praetonians and Tyrandians and the Brettonians merely acted like complete moral paralytics.

Now, we can't really blame the Clandonians for anything. They are motherfucking Clandonians, for fucksake, what do you expect from them?. I bet when they're small their moms give them cucumber-shaped rock candy, so they can train for their relations with their Praetonian overlords.

Then there's the Praetonians. Really, it's strange. They have a sort of culture, and are not totally barbarian – and yet they constantly coddle and snuggle the Doomani neocon scum. Seriously, Comrade Praetonians, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you buddying up with these people? They practice slavery, for the love of Christ, actual goddamned chattel slavery, how is this superior to Communism? You inject yourself with some morphium in Doomland, they crucify your ass, how is that freedom? Oh, wait, they oppose Communism, so they must be all right.

Chancellor Donner, I know you're listening to this broadcast – the same really goes for you. How does a serious nation buddy up with scumbags like Doomingsland? Why are you approving of their murderous ways?

Tyrandis… I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I mean. We Allaneans were on your side in the NATO-Questarian war. We fought on all the major fronts. We fought in Questers, and in Azaha, and we helped Kahanistan against Doomingsland – oh wait, morons. Kahanistan fought on the good side in the War, how come you are sucking up to the people who killed thousands of allied civilians? How come are you worshipping at the altar of the people who committed innumerable acts of aggression against you and your allies? Is it just because they make shiny jets? Do you have no self-respect whatsoever that you whore yourself out like that?

From now on, I declare Clandonians to be the world's retarded lackeys, the Praetonians to be the useless, ignorant tools of the Doomani, and the Tyrandians to be a bunch of useless whores who sell out to Doomani legionnaires.

As for those unknown pilots – if they did what the Maximus regime says they did, they're heroes. You don't need to be a good pilot to be a hero. Committing acts of epic bravery against innumerable odds makes you a hero, always. Challenging the Doomani air force in a wing of aged Sukhoi jets qualifies perfectly.

The only thing I'm sorry for is that they didn't manage to nail any of them Doomani neocons. Whoever tries anything like that again, I hope you kill as many Doomani as you can possibly kill.

Before I complete this message, I have something personal to say to King George of Praetonia, Arch Arsonist Adam Wincenty of Mer Des Ennuis, Prime Minister Sir David Sistilin of Clandonia, and the leadership of Tyrandis. This is my message: "Eat shit and die. I hope you get in a predicament just like Valens' one day, and then I'm going to help you as much as you are helping Valens."

That is all.

May God Bless Allanea.

"Officially, we work for a pizza delivery company." – one of the men smiled – "Unofficially… suffice it to say I am employed with the Allanean government."

He did not say anything about the methods by which he avoided the guards.

"Now come. The car is waiting. We must bring you to safety."

"What?" asked Nikolatos. "Are you Military Intelligence?" This is a catastrophe, the government can't know! He didn't trust Sklenova not to hand him over to the Praetonians. She was just naive enough to do that, figuring he wouldn't be handed over to the Doomani and tortured to death. He didn't have that kind of faith.

"Locate me where? And how did you get past the guards?"

The car was, naturally, a pizza delivery van. Within minutes, it was headed towards the nearby Westport Regional Airport, moving fast – but carefully within the traffic rules of Kahanistan.

Once the van made it's way to the airport, the Allaneans, and their Kahanistani 'client', made their way hastily to one of the runways, where an Allanean corporate jet was preparing for takeoff.

Even as they approached, a wealthy-looking Allanean was coming out of his limousine – and he raised an eyebrow as he saw the Senator approach (naturally, he recognized him).

Normally, secret intelligence agents don't carry badges – but this case was different.

One of the men flashed his ACIA badge at the Allanean businessman. "ACIA! We must save this man! Get us aboard! We'll pay! In cash! Sixty thousand credits!"

60,000 menelmacari credits was a hefty sum for three places on an aircraft, and the people were ACIA operatives.

The man agreed.

"Let's get aboard, Senator."

Nikolatos shrugged. If this guy was one of his own, or worse, a Doomani...

"You're awfully short for a Doomani. And you're not as arrogant as a Praetonian... I'll come along. Just try to avoid the guards with me along, they'll stop you if they see you, and bust a round in you."

And so the aircraft took off – precisely on it's original, scheduled flight to Liberty-City. Nothing at all was out of the ordinary, and it would be impossible to guess, from the outside, that the Senator was aboard.

When the aircraft landed – on a small private airport on the outskirts of Liberty-City – the ACIA agents exited first.

Several days later, the truth would come out. The Senator would be given an expensive mansion somewhere in Allanea – ostensibly a gift from Kazansky – and protected around the clock by guards. He would be given money, resources, and communications to continue to his political activities by wire, and he was even given – for no reason whatever aside from the charity of Kazansky's heart – fifty million dollars.

Of course, the ACIA denied havinh anything to do with the operation. Officially, the Senator just took a trip to Allanea, where Kazansky and other benefactors just happened to give him shiny stuff.

Traffic rules in Kahanistan tended to not be a chief target of enforcement, especially with the police on guard against a possible anti-Catholic pogrom if the murders took place. Nikolatos climbed aboard the plane - apparently the Allaneans hadn't searched him for weapons. His Hi-Point .45 ACP was still tucked securely in his jacket. If they turned out to be the bad guys... well, he figured he could fly a plane out; landing would be the hard part.

Tomas Swietoslaw (web.bentley.edu/students/k/krug_jona/pictures/dssa.jpg), director of the State Security Administration, and one of the most feared members of the government, if not wholly unknown for his secretive persona, wore a pressed black suit, his badge and guns; he held a older Pale Rider Arms Model 100 SMG (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9822853&postcount=8), the smallest fully-automatic SMG in the Ennuisian government’s armor, it was a good 5 inches shorter than the P-8 SMG in his attaché case, along with a few low-level classified files on the various Doomani government officials he expected to meet.

Director Swietoslaw’s armament was not unusual for any Ennuisian, much less a government official. He had spent the previous 5 hours in a Boeing 777; while the Republic and the government-over-the-government could easily afford to buy one of the planes for his personal use, the libertarian bent of the government that spent somewhere north of twenty trillion on national defense and security could not rationalize spending $200 million on a mach .9 passenger liner. Much like many anglophile nations, he was therefore forced to ride with the commoners. After nearly everyone had exited the plane, he stood up, took his attaché case and a small carry-on bag, and walked off the plane, his SSA badge now pinned to his lapel; a pair of handcuffs clinking unseen under his jacket.

He walked down the jet way, passed a restaurant; bumping a passing Clandonian tourist who was probably in the country for the games hard enough to send the man sprawling. He smirked; it was going to be a good weekend away from the office. His black shoes clinking, he exited the secured area of the capital’s airport, and looked for his Doomani liaison.

The Colisseum, Urbus Doomanus

It was the biggest party of the year. Just under a dozen nations were represented in Caesar's private box: King Alexander of Questaria, the Emperor Conrad of Zukariaa, Fuhrer Richtoff of Kampfers, those creepy twins from Novacom, the Cottish and Northfordian ambassadors, the Clandonian ambassador, Emperor Ferrin of Cohenia, President Kara H. Amner of The SilverSky, the foreign minister of Tyrandis, Tomas Swietoslaw (director of the State Security Administration) of Mer des Ennuis, Atal Amner (whose list of titles is far too long to fit in this sentence and therefore shall not be included) of No_Endorse, Grand Prince Ulrich Mitternach of Granate, Justin Gannon of Prestonia, and many others (including their wives and/or mistresses, had they chosen to bring them) accompanied Maximus and his wife in the large and lavishly decorated luxury box, which swarmed with slaves tending to their every whim. Most notably absent, however, were Praetonian representatives, which greatly disappointed all of the attendees; of course, the Empress herself was Praetonian, so that would have to make up for it.

Plate after plate of the finest foods was brought, bottle after bottle of the finest wines, beers, liquor, even drugs if they wanted it, while all sat in large, comfortable recliners looking down towards the arena, each with his or her own large table to hold all of the food. The luxury box itself was superbly designed, with the marble, gold-trimmed tables being large enough to hold all the food without obstructing their view of the arena below in any way whatsoever. All chatted as they usually did, discussing the world's current issues: the general stupidity of the Allaneans, that bizarre attempted terrorist attack that had been thwarted some half an hour before, the mystery of how the Kahanistani economy managed to support a welfare state while constantly increasing the size of its standing army, and there were even frank, casual discussions of the APOC-Gothic situation.

The stadium was absolutely packed: over two-hundred thousand had crammed into the sold-out seats, the majority being Doomani citizens although a fair number of wealthy foreigners had acquired tickets to the wildly popular venue. The rest of the world would have to make due with pay-per-view, unfortunately (at least those outside of Doomanum, as this broadcast was plaid for entirely out of Maximus' pocket as a gift to the people), and the people were paying. The Imperial Gladiator Company was scoring billions of denarii off of this, an unprecedented profit for what was to be but a day-long venue. Of course, considering the sheer number of gladiators that were to die that day, such a profit was expected. The dusty, sand-covered arena, with a diameter of one-point-five kilometers, was simply breathtaking to behold as formations of thousands of gladiators marched out onto the fields upon which they would die horrifically or triumph gloriously. It was the epitome of Doomani civilization.

An artificial city had been constructed within the arena: a recreation of the former Kahanistani capital of Najaster. The recreation was surprisingly accurate, the buildings appearing just as they had at the time of the siege. Of course over half of the arena was wide open 'desert,' where the battle-hardened gladiator force representing the Imperial Army under Maximus would be starting off. The 'Kahanistani' had a very impressive array of fortifications at their disposal: trenches, concertina wire, bunkers, machinegun nests lay on the outskirts of the 'city', while the buildings themselves had been fortified with sandbags and packed with weapons. The weapons were of the sort used during the time period: the Kahanistani and Doomani uniforms were flawlessly recreated, and many of the rifles carried by the Kahanistani gladiators were captured during the actual siege of Najaster. The 'Doomani' in this case were equipped with their typical array of armaments: DR-83Ms, TDX pistols, LAC.IV rocket propelled grenades, Spiculum recoilless rifles, DMG-83 and 4M1 machineguns. Surprisingly, the gladiators even had Imperator (and Merkava) tanks and 82mm and 122mm mortars at their disposal!

Naturally, this concentration of heavy weapons in this sort of arena would worry someone inexperienced with the Doomani system of gladiatorial combat. All the proper precautions were taken, of course; after all, nobody wanted the paying customers to go home with an extra hole in their head. All weapons (including the tank guns, save for a few APFSDS rounds used for killing other tanks, although the elevation of the guns was restricted to prevent them from accidentally putting a hole through the transparent aluminum alloy bubble that surrounded the arena and killing civilians) fired frangible ammunition, which would prevent the massive transparent aluminum alloy bubble that surrounded the arena from being punctured.

The bubble itself was rated to survive hits from 20mm API rounds, so frangible rounds wouldn’t be much of a problem, and the heavy vehicle-mounted weapons had their elevations restricted to prevent any potential complications. The bubble itself was actually tall enough to facilitate the use of mortars, which, alongside hand grenades, were the only true explosive weapons allotted to the gladiators. Of course, it must also be noted that the use of frangible ammunition would also make the games far more gruesome: when the round hit its target, it would fragment into thousands of tiny pieces. Even a hit from a rifle bullet would create horrific wounds, potentially blowing entire limbs off. It made all that much more money, as the crowd loved the gore. Aside from those obvious precautions, the gladiators had also been properly 'conditioned' for this sort of thing. Extensive brainwashing and other techniques had effectively made them incapable of purposely firing towards the crowd, or worse, the Emperor: their memories had been obliterated through electro-shock treatment and they had been effectively ‘reprogrammed’ as people. Virtually all of the involved gladiators had already seen action in the arena on multiple occasions (with Maximus there watching a good deal of those times), and there had been no problems. It was a proven system.

In terms of manpower, the sides were by no means even. The Kahanistani outnumbered the ‘Doomani’ a good four to one; however, like in the first war, the ‘Doomani’ made up for this in training and sheer firepower. While the Kahanistani had no indirect fire weapons, the ‘Doomani’ had a good deal of mortars at their disposal. The Kahanistani Merkava tanks had also been immobilized in their positions, their engines made inoperable to make them stationary targets. And despite the fact they hid behind what looked like extremely formidable fortifications, they were by no means safe. In fact, the entire ‘city’ occupied by the Kahanistani had been specifically engineered to be easily penetrated by 6.7mm frangible rounds (the walls of most of the buildings, while appearing to be made of sturdy masonry, were actually made of Styrofoam.)

And of course, the Kahanistani gladiators hadn’t been issued body armor; the Doomani ones had. Of course, their disadvantages weren’t exclusively material; after having their memories wiped, the Kahanistani prisoners had been trained to fight to very specific standards. These standards happened to be well below those that the gladiators they were facing were trained to, which would effectively represent the quality gap between the lifelong-trained Doomani Legionaries and the various Kahanistani volunteer formations whose training was not nearly as extensive, such as the Republic Guard.

The stands were elevated some forty feet above the arena floor, and from that height Maximus and his guests were able to survey the entire battleground that lay before them. Prior to the initiation of battle, as was custom in Doomanum, all of the gladiators scheduled to take part in combat massed in formation before Caesar. It was a magnificent sight to behold: eight-thousand men, all condemned to die in the arena, stood in vast, uniform blocks, the various conflicting units clearly distinguishable from one another. Their rifles at the present-arms position, all eight thousand barked out in unison:

”AVE, CAESAR! MORITURI TE SALUTAMUS!”

Hail Caesar. We who are about to die salute you.

A narrator, prior to this assembly, had set the scene: the year 2025. The place: Najaster, then the capital of Kahanistan. Trumpets blared and drums thundered as the two armies marched off in separate directions, taking up positions in their assigned areas. The Doomani side had an extensive network of trenches at the ‘outskirts’ of the city to allow for them to maintain a sturdy sieges, and so they moved into their proper positions. Both sides started with extremely limited visibility of the other to prevent early casualties- this was to be a long, bloody, drawn-out battle for both sides. The more general carnage and chaos, the higher ratings the event would recieve. The patrons of the arena got bored when they saw lopsided slaughters as the real siege of Najaster had been, and so certain modifications had to be made, such as the distance of the Doomani starting position to the Kahanistani, the lack of armored personnel carriers on the Doomani side, and the fact that in comparison to the amount of participants the field of battle was fairly small, allowing the Kahanistani to concentrate their firepower more easily to ensure that more gladiators on the Doomani side would die. It would be a fairly entertaining spectacle to witness to say the very least, to those that enjoyed that sort of thing of course.

OOC: I’ll do the battle itself later, too tired to finish…

[OOC: I guess you can RP the prisoners - you've pretty much stripped their free will, so it's not like they'll use anything resembling... tactics. As for the mysteries about my economy, simple - getting lots of aid from Axis Nova and Allanea, and lots of Praetonian investment.]

Adam sat in a hospital bed in the clinic in the Capital Building, the massive fortress-like office building which housed most of the government. The room itself more resembled a hotel than a hospital, save for the life support equipment that was treating him for an overdose of Oxycodone. He didn’t remember a thing about the message with Kahanistan.

One of the TV’s, on mute, was tuned to Veritas, where a picture of an Su-30 was shown. This was mirrored on the Republican News Network, which wasn’t muted.

”Doomani forces announced that they have successfully shot down several aircraft” intoned the anchor [i]”in a botched terrorist attempt against targets unknown. There were no survivors from the unidentified. State news service Veritas…” Adam muted the TV. He looked at the clock… it would be another five sec… a man in dress uniform walked in, saluted, and placed a computer and webcam on an end table, along with plum pudding, which struck Adam as odd. The screen read “please stand by.” It took another ten seconds before Klara Mykhaila, Director of the State Department, appeared on the screen.

“Sir, I apologize for the interruption.”

“That is fine Director Mykhaila” Adam begrudgingly muttered.

“Sir, the SSA in coordination with the various military intelligence agencies have analyzed the event. We have concluded, based on SIGINT and what little radar information we have obtained, along with civilian news services, that several soviet designed aircraft, notably the SU-30 and what we believe to be a Tu-160, though the latter craft is unconfirmed. The Air Force has a list of known operators of these craft. Kahanistan came up relatively high on the list. Combined with their rhetoric as of late, we have reason to believe that the Kahanistani government is probably behind this operation.”

Adam nodded, eating some of the plum pudding, which he found surprisingly good.

“Sir, you might also be interested in this. It is from the Kahanistani Anti-Catholic party.”

The computer screen split in half automatically, a heavy set man in a suit was standing in front of a poorly animated cartoon. He appeared Mediterranean. He listened to the rhetoric, though a few bits managed to keep his attention…

”Of course, the last Foreign Minister is a self-hating Jew, who wants to import Catholic 'refugees', supposed political dissidents from Doomingsland to live here and spread their Hitlerian Nazism, and had an affair with the Catholic Hitler Adam Wincenty, the terrorist dictator of Merde des Ennuis, luckily she's in Allanea now where she can't do too much damage… These demonic Catholic serpents we already have in our midst must be deported… This is a war that Catholicism has imposed on all non-Catholics, a war that the Inquisition began when they imposed this evil religion. Catholicism is a cancer on this Earth, and if it cannot be destroyed, it must be contained. We encourage Catholics to move to Catholic countries and stay there.”

Adam laid in the propped up bed, stunned and angered, even in his weakened condition.

“Director, there are many conclusions I can draw from this, what is the intelligence community’s take?”

“Sir,” she said, ruffling through some papers, “this came from the Anti-Catholic Party, as I said, a party that has a exercised considerable power in Kahanistan since the war ended. This is certainly an incitement to violence, and their description of you follows their rhetoric against the Doomani, for some reason.”

“Do you think they are aware that our nation is a predominantly Shinto, Catholic, and Jewish?”

“Probably not, sir, the Kahanistani Clandestine Service has never been known to be particularly skilled. None the less, the last time anti-Catholic party reared its head, they instigated a massive insurrection and pogrom against Catholics throughout Kahanistan. As we believe that they attempted to strike against Doomingsland, the IC is recommending increased security actions to prevent such attacks, as well as incitement of violence from domestic terrorist groups, namely the SCC [Southern Communist Command] and the REF [Red Ennuisian Front].”

“Issue a travel advisory, tell all citizens with half a brain to get the hell out of Kahanistan if they haven’t already, and put air defenses on an elevated alert.”

“Yes, sir. The SSA’s law enforcement is recommending that we launch a nation-wide crackdown on agitators, and hold all Kahanistani nationals until this situation is resolved, as much for their own safety as ours. The SSA is also recommending that ethnic Kahanistanis be checked out to ensure compliance with all appropriate regulations.”

Adam thought. “Do it. The military and SSA have four weeks to conduct this before the Senate may judge it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The connection was severed, and Adam went to sleep.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Travel Advisory: Kahanistan

The State Department has issued a travel warning and restriction for the nation of Kahanistan. The Kahanistani Anti-Catholic party is gaining power in that nation, and has been responsible for massive pogroms against Catholics in the past. Recently this political party lumped the Ennuisian government with the government of Doomingsland as terrorists, and called for violence against Catholics in Kahanistan. Ennuisian citizens residing in Kahanistan are urged to carefully review and assess their safety and security situations, and should strongly consider leaving the country for the time being. All citizens planning to travel to Kahanistan should consider postponing their plans.

All citizens choosing to disregard this advisory require a valid passport and a Kahanistani visa. All travelers are encouraged to register with the State Department’s Travel Buearu.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Nationwide crackdown commences against communists, Kahanistanis
By James Richards, National Correspondent
For Immediate Release
http://www.fbi.gov/headlines/capt_wake.jpg
7th Guard Military Police lead a suspect out of a raid site.

VILLE D’ESPOIR (The Republican) – In a surprise move, law enforcement units around the nation launched a massive crackdown against dissidents, insurrectionists, and suspected foreign agents.

“Today’s move is vital for national security” said Lieutenant Colonel James Fisk of the 7th Guard Military Police, leaning against an MP truck. “Thanks to transparency between our government’s intelligence services, we were able to coordinate a massive strike against anti-Ennuisian fronts. The Communist Revolution Group has been whipped out in the region. Any and all raid locations, however, are temporarily federal property, and looters will be summarily executed.”

The raid included Kahanistani nationals, who were arrested en-mass around the nation.

“Tensions have been high thanks to Doomani action against Kahanistani ex-president Valens” said John McIntyre of the Center for Policy Analysis, a non-partisan think tank. “The Kahanistani government has sponsored terrorist activity on the same level as Manus Dei, in fervor if not in skill. Many Kahanistani retain ties to their nation, and the government has a vested interest in preventing terrorist attacks. The Kahanistani government’s proclamations are not helping.”

An estimated 12,000 Kahanistanis have been rounded up around the nation as the raids continue, and all Kahanistanis are urged to report to local or federal law enforcement agencies. Few injuries were reported during this detainment. 1,400 suspected communist militants around the country have been captured as well. Resistance was minimal, though gunfights left fifty dead or injured, and killed seven officers.

Sources with the SSA have indicated that detainees from both groups will be detained in the network of Federal Detainment Centers. The FDC network was created during and immediately after the second civil war to process prisoners of war for re-integration into society, and has remained dormant since then.

© The Republican 2007. All rights reserved.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Director Swietoslaw had kept mostly to himself, studying the Doomani the way a scientist might study an atom. He sat drinking a glass of scotch when his PDA buzzed slightly. The message was short.

“Kahanistani government lists MdE as ally of Doomingsland and state sponsor of terror. Adam has ordered nationwide crackdown; mass arrests of Kahanistani nationals have occurred, and are expected to continue. Stay posted.”

The Republican news article was attached.

With a slight grin, he approached Maximus and handed him the article.

The Kahanistanian government was fairly liberal about giving out visas. Apparently the liberal left was stronger, even though the rightist Anti-Catholic Party was more vocal. As such, most of those Ennuisians who chose to disregard the travel warning needed only obtain a passport from their government, unless they were suspected intelligence agents or terrorists.

Within the country, police stood by near the largest places of worship, intent on preventing another pogrom. They couldn't simply arrest the leaders of the Anti-Catholic Party or the League of Anti-Catholics which supported it, as right-wing extremists enjoyed the same freedom of expression as everyone else.

---

Statement of the Anti-Catholic Party regarding foreign media

It has come to the attention of the leadership of the Anti-Catholic Party that foreign media outlets, many of which have reached into Kahanistan, accuse us of fomenting violence against Catholics.

This is a Bolshevik lie. We have publicly stated on numerous occasions that our policy, should we ever be elected to power, would be to deport, not kill, our Catholic population. Our goal is to protect our national security, not commit the same human rights abuses that in earlier times we fought to stop.

The Bolshevik liars who claim that we seek genocide are the same Ennuisian religious fanatics who arrest thousands of our nationals abroad. Unfortunately, few of our people are as conscious as we are of the Catholic menace, especially those who would set foot in their country. The vast majority of the 12,000 unlawfully held detainees are not affiliated with our party.

Dr. Aristakis Nikolatos,
Chair, Anti-Catholic Party of Kahanistan