NationStates Jolt Archive

The jet rumbled and shuttered as the wheels touched down on the tarmac of the Katira international airport. A massive roar resounded inside the cabin, as the vector of the engines was directed forward, slowing the jet.

Raj Azar'Aha and his entourage of two Royal marines, dressed in the dress blue uniform, and a single ACIF agent dressed in a formal business suit, looked out their window at the sight before them. It was very green, the parts of grass and trees they could immediatly see atleast, as well as the approach. It was also drizzling, the small droplets pattering on the windows they looked out of. Definately a far cry from the arid death scape of the native Azahan homeland.

Pulling away from the main gates, the jet plane headed towards a small parking lot within the confines of the taxi-way. There vehicles awaited, along with a few figures unreconizable in the distance. As the jet approached, the Raj finally reconized the figures. The Duchess he was told would be there to meet him, a few of her own entourage, and most noticably, armed guards of some sort.

Stopping, the door was quickly opened and stairs lowered. Immediatly afterwards, the two Royal Marines disembarked the plane, standing on either side of the stairway, at perfect attention. As the Raj exited the plane, the ACIF agent behind him carrying an umbrella for the both of them, both of the marines snapped their salutes, their left hand touching the brim on the left side of their large barracks covers.

"I assume you are the duchess sent here to escort me to the Empress." The Raj said, as he quickly closed the gap to the Duchess. He held out his arms and quickly embraced the duchess in a light hug, that only embraced her arms. "It is a pleasure to meet you, shall we proceed? There is much to discuss, and little time I am afraid."

Duchess Sadira Saleh frowned as the aircraft's failing engines finally brought the aircraft to a stop. She knew she was going to have to arrange for a complete overhaul of the aircraft's engines before the Raj was allowed to leave. As the steps were lowered, Sadira erased the concerned frown from her face (a skill gained in her long career as a diplomat) and replaced it with a beaming smile.

When the Raj stepped close enough for her to talk in a normal voice she replied, "Yes, I am Sadira Saleh, Duchess of Shelby and Director of Foreign Services. And yes, I will be your escort to the Empress, who I might add is eagerly awaiting your visit and is quite curious as to its purpose. It's not often former or present Sovereign League heads of state request an audience with Her Majesty."

With a simple signal to the two Royal Guard troopers in battlearmour, she gently led the Raj to her waiting car while the two troopers led his bodyguard to the attending SUV (which, not unsurprisingly, was as heavily armoured as Sadira's own car.) The ride from the airport saw a major change in scenery since the small convoy had to cut into a city whose only differing features were the size and shape of its massive skyscrapers. However, the scenery changed yet again when the convoy came upon a small Imperial Army outpost guarding a bridge leading to an island that was dominated by a massive palace and its grounds. After passing inspection the cars quickly crossed the bridge and pulled into a carpool that was stocked with every manner of car and truck, including some not inexpensive supercars.

"Your Majesty, if you will please follow me I will lead you to the audience room. Thankfully the designers of this monstrosity had the foresight to place it close to the main entrance," explain Sadira.

Of course, close was a relative term for a building that, while not anything close to a skyscraper, more than made up for it in other dimensions. All told the walk was close to a quarter mile from the car park to the lobby of the audience room. Two guards patiently waited to open the door for the Raj, "Highness, this is where I leave you. Please give her my greetings and inform her that I will be visiting tomorrow."

Nodding to the Duchess, the Raj enters the room. Right behind him, the ACIF agent follows, nodding at the two Azahan marines, notioning them to stay outside.

Upon approaching the desk, the Raj executes a kurt bow, and speaks in his native tongue, the agent behind him translating, and speaking in heavily accented english. "His Majesty, the Raj Azar'Aha extends his gratitude and thanks for meeting him on such short notice. There is much to talk about."

Finishing, the agent quickly pushes the chair towards the Raj, allowing him to sit without moving from his spot. The Raj, although a bit chunky in weight, sits tall and proud, his arms settled on the arm rests in perfect 90 degree angles at the elbow.

Slowly, he takes off his tall and ornate headress, adorned with many golden coins, clothes, and silks. He hands it to the agent behind him, and nods to him.

"The Raj is sure you are unaware of this custom. By removing his headress, he asks that this conversation be held informally. As if you were longtime friends."

Nodding, the Raj begins to speak, in a low voice, so that the translator is able to speak over him to the Empiress.

"He asks simply. Help us regain our homeland. After the war that we fought for the facist Questarian empire, we have had nothing. We were forced to leave our own homeland. Our people were driven mad, and we were forced to flee with a few loyalists. However, the Raj has always felt he has betrayed his people. Now, he wishes to return, and guide his people unto the correct path of Allah, and country."

The Empress was completely taken aback by the request and simply stared at the Raj for a moment before regaining her composure, "Sir, you must realize this request has come at me in a completely unexpected manner. When you sent your message I had assumed that, at the most, you would request land for your people to reside, which I would have granted no questions asked. To assist you in pacifying your home country, which from the latest intelligence reports is under the control of various gangs and warlords, would take a major military commitment on the part of the Imperium. At the very least it would take most of the Imperial Marines and the better part of a hundred divisions of the Imperial Army, the best hundred at that. Plus whatever naval and air support that is needed.

"To be perfectly frank, for me to take this before the Imperial Senate would require a solid commitment of some sort on your part. Most likely a top-to-bottom strategic alliance that would take the consent of both parties to dissolve. If you can countenance that, then I would put all my prestige and political capital into making sure the Imperial Senate approves the expenditure this would require. If not, I'm willing to use the Privy Purse to hire out mercenary regiments based in the Imperium to assist you, but naturally the combat power they bring to the table will be significantly less than what the Imperial Armed Forces could."

With that, the Empress leaned back in her chair and gazed steadily at the Raj, waiting for him to consider and reply to what she had said.

It took a few moments for the translator to correctly translate the Empress' speech. He seemed to have trouble understanding some of the words, but after a few minutes, relayed what the Empress said.

But in a suprise gesture, before the translator finished, the Raj gave a slight hand gesture, and the translator nodded. He started spewing out his own words, as if the conversation was preplanned.

"The Raj had made an effort to research your ways, customs, and more importantly, your political ways." The translator hesitated momentarilly. "The Raj is ready to offer his country, his people, and his economy to the Imperium of the Scandavian States. In return for helping him retake his country, and help rebuild us, better than before. He is willing to sign a declaration adding the Nation of Azaha to the Scandivan State's ledger. We know we cannot do this ourselves, and there are no other leaders we would have help us. Most of which are all war mongering, power hungry pigs. All we wish, is a peaceful and profitable life. And if that life is within the service of a country such as yours, then that makes it all the better."

Catching his breath, he nodded at the Raj, who in turn locked eyes with the Empress.

The offer was above and beyond anything Lien had ever imagined. No sovereign nation who could lay claim to the resources and people that the Raj could would ever offer to subjugate themselves in such a manner. Except... the Raj really couldn't lay claim to either of those anymore, except for a small percentage. Still, the offer was utterly shocking and the slack expression on her face showed it.

Slowly composing herself, the Empress sat up in her chair and regarded the Raj, "That, I think, the Senate would accept. If you will excuse me, I must alert the Senate to expect my presence on the morrow and prepare a speech. You and your staff may stay here for the night, I will summon my majordomo to see to your needs."

True to her word, she picked up a phone and quickly gave orders. Not five minutes later a tall and thin man entered, bowing to both the Empress and the Raj, "Sir, if you would follow me I will see to your staff and luggage, as well as meal and entertainment arrangements."

With that, the Empress nodded to the Raj and quickly left the room with the apparent intent to completing her self-assigned tasks.

The Empress sat at her desk, fountain pen scratching away at fine parchment paper. The speech she was composing was proving rather difficult, since striking a balance between strident on one hand and hopeful on the other was a tough balancing act even for the most accomplished of orators. She knew that one way or another her speech to the Senate was going to open a can of worms for the entirety of Haven, Lien just hoped that she could pull it off with style.

A soft double tap on her door signaled the arrival of the twins and the equally soft sounds of treading feet on deep pile carpet marked their approach. When she hear them seat themselves, she looked up and silently handed the speech to Stefan. He took his time reading it and when he looked up his face was a mask of stoicism and calculation; Lien smiled slightly, she knew he would end up handling external policy when she abdicated. Lian gently tugged on the papers and Stefan let them go, not letting his eyes drift away from hers. Not a few moments later her daughter gasped, Lian's reaction being much the same as hers when the Raj had made his proposal.

"Mother, this is insane. No empire, not even one the size of ours, has ever brought a nation as large as Azaha to its heels like the Raj is proposing. The military power this will take will cost us hundreds of billions of dollars. I can't imagine the Senate would go along with this," Lian opined.

The Empress grinned, "Keep reading, I'm sure when you see what the Raj is willing to offer in compensation you'll agree that the Senate will do whatever I ask."

Ever the dutiful daughter, the Crown Princess did as asked before muttering, "Dear God... I was wrong, this is going to take trillions to pull off, but the prestige alone - "

"Would be entirely worth it," interrupted Stefan. "Not only that, we add nearly seven billion people to our empire and once the land is completely up to our standards we would possess the single most powerful military in Haven. There would be enough power in that one region to crush Praetonian South Haven in an afternoon, and that's assuming current spending levels, never mind the elevated ones you intend to propose. That's the kind of military feat military history doctorate theses are written about. Never mind the economic juggernaut this is going to represent once it gets going."

Now Lien outright grinned, "This is merely the start. Once the Imperial Commonwealth proves that it is viable, I have no doubt that any unaligned party we invite in will gladly flock to our banner. All the military and economic help a nation could want, immediate and massive representation in the Imperial Senate once the reorganization is complete, plus a chance to build the most powerful and prolific Commonwealth in the history of the world. All in our grasp and all we have to do is but prove we can succeed where the Questarian Commonwealth failed."


..::::..


Lien stood on a highly elevated dais, surveying the thousands of seated individuals below. "The Horseshoe", with the over ten thousand representatives of the Senate of the People seated in simple but masterfully crafted chairs. "The Wall", which closed what would be the open end of The Horseshoe, sat nobles from the Senate of the Lords behinds ornately carven desks crafted by master artisans, their smaller numbers more than made up for by the imposing furniture and dress. All in all it was an entirely impressive display, but really their combined power meant little next to the Empress'.

"My Lords and Senators, I come before you today concerning a grave matter. The Raj Azar'Aha, spiritual and political leader of Azaha, has come to me seeking the Imperium's assistance, although what is sought is considerably greater than what has been rumored. My Lords and Senators, the Raj asks that the Imperium help him wrench the rule of his homeland, whence he was forced out in exile, from the hands of thieving warlords and murderous gangs. As many of you know - "

Her speech was cut off by the sudden eruption of chatter and shouts of disagreement. The hard bang of a gavel, amplified many times by a microphone, was all that could be heard over the din. The Duchess of Padma, Primus for Her Imperial Highness, spoke with a master's voice, "My Lords and Senators, be silent! Her Majesty has not yet finished speaking and you would do well to remember your oaths of fealty to and respect for the Crown."

The voices died down and Lien picked up where she left off, "As many of you know, previous assessments from Joint Strategic Command have suggested that such a pacification, were it ever needed, would require nearly the entirety of the Imperial Marines and at least an entire army group of the best soldiers in the Imperial Army, not to mention whatever air and naval support that would be necessary. In return for the Imperium's support, the Raj has offered the complete fealty of his nation to the Imperial Crown, reducing his nation from a sovereign domain to an Imperial Grand Duchy. I would suggest to My Lords and Senators that this is not an opportunity the Imperium dare pass up.

"Were we to succeed where the Questarian Commonwealth in its entirety has failed. We we to offer peace, stability, and power untold for any previous Duchy in the Imperium in return for the simple price of fealty to a different Crown and Throne, our nation would go down as the greatest empire in the history of Haven and indeed the world."

"Consider Lords and Senators, and decide the future of your nation."

The doors were locked. The window curtains closed. Even the ventilation was closed and sealed. Within the dimly lit room, the translator to the Raj sat, infront of a thin and small laptop.

He was in the process of recanting the entire conversation of the Raj, and the Empress, then pointing out the speech and INN news statement that was released. It was in full swing now.

At the end of his message, he conveyed "The time is now to eliminate him. Your will be done." He sent the message, allowing the program to piggy back his message to the Raj's that was currently in the process of sendinging his own progress report to the P.M.

Easing up from his chair, he wandered over to his bed. Loosening his tie, and removing his suit jacket, he sat on his bed, and sighed. While he had been fearing this day, he had also been relishing in its thought. Of course he feared the reprocussions of his actions. But for the greater good, he would be a martyr, to the prince, and to the new Azaha.

As he reached under his bed and pulled a steel suit case from under it, his laptop chimed. He looked over, thinking. That was a rather quick response. Looking back down at the box, he opened it and removed a large revolver. Holding it in his right hand, he approached the laptop, and peered at it suspiciously. Eyes growing wide, he took a few more steps towards the screen, and read it more clearly.

"Yes. You will be a martyr, to the Raj himself. Here's a hint. If you aren't running yet, do so now."

He had to play it cool though. It was impossible, completely impossible. Some one was playing a trick on him. The system was perfect. He chuckled to himself. Walking back over he put back on his tie, and buttoned up his jacket. He was sure if he did run like a bat out of hell, he would surely be caught. Whoever was playing this joke would be punished.

Unfortunately for the translator, nobody found his message the least bit funny. As things are wont to happen, a small error in the piggybacking program had allowed for the interception of the message by intelligence units loyal to the Raj and the immediate notification of the Internal Security Service, where in turn the message had been relayed to palace security. It had taken only a few minutes to assemble a fast reaction squad in full kit and have it converge on the man's quarters. As the man was reading the message a section on each side of his suite's entryway were creeping up and preparing for a quick assault. The Raj had requested that the man simply be killed, but the Empress had asked that the ISS be allowed to interrogate him and the Raj's reply had been a simple indifferent shrug.

As the sticks settled into position, the squad leader nodded to the section leader on the other side of him. The section leader acknowledged the signal and signaled two men to begin entry. The larger of the two stood directly in front of the door with what were obviously two gas canister grenades in one hand and his sub-carbine held in a firing position in the other. The other man also held two grenades, but the holes in the long cylinders indicated they were flashbangs. When the section leader dropped his hand in the "go" signal, the large man took two quick steps, snapped his augmented leg forward (which resulted in a door turned into kindling), and then stepped aside so that his partner could toss in his flashbangs. Once the rapid chain of detonations had ended, the large man tossed in his gas canisters. The gas in question was known in Imperial service as IA-002 or Incapacitate Agent 002 and went by the nickname of Munin, after one of Odin's crow familiars. Unlike IA-001, which was technically a non-lethal agent that had a reputation for inciting incidents of a decidedly lethal nature, 002 was a fast-acting "sleepy gas." The net result for the translator was that even if he had the training and ability to fight off the effects of the flashbangs, the follow-up gas would make damn sure he was too busy keeping himself in working order to deal with the fist that slammed into the side of his head and introduced him to the world of dreamless sleep.

***

[more to come later]

The translator wondered, why couldn't he see? Was he blind? Was he dead? He couldn't be. He was feeling pain, immense pain, especially in the side of his head. He was sitting, he knew that, however, he couldn't lift his head. With ever attempt his head simply slumped back down to his chest, but after several tries, he finally kept it upright, although strained.

It was very dark. All he could see was directly infront of him. His eyes adjusted slowly, too slowly to be of any use in the opening moments of his conciousness. Again however, the more he strained, the more things seemed to make sense. As his eyes slowly tuned into the sights before him, he saw a man simply sitting infront of him, on his own chair. He was staring at the translator, not in any unusual way or threatening way. He simply sat there, leaned back in his chair, as if waiting patiently for the Azahan to come out of a peaceful slumber.

He tried to think why he was here, however he could not remember past a couple minutes ago. He could not even remember his initial struggle with his neck. Finally in a slurred speach, he spoke.

"Where am I?"

The man smiled slightly at the translator and in reply answered in the Azahan dialect of Arabic, "Peace be unto you, my friend. As for where you are, the simplest answer is that you are in a world of shit. You have been arrested after conspiring to commit murder, which would land you 25 years in prison, espionage, which carries the death penalty, and treason, which also carries the death penalty. Were it up to the Raj, you would've simply never woken up, but Her Imperial Highness is more merciful and truly wishes to know what you know.

"Before I ask you any questions, you should know something. We have asked for a ruling from the High Court concerning your status as an Imperial citizen, since while you were off in the realm of the sand man the Raj's request was passed by the Imperial Senate. They have decided that since your arrest came when you were a citizen of a foreign country, your status remains until this situation is resolved. Now, were you an Imperial citizen, we would not be talking; instead, you'd be chatting with a nice Imperial Investigation Service detective. But, as you are not an Imperial citizen, the protections accorded to those lucky souls do not apply to you. As such, I can question you however I choose to and suffer no consequences, but please understand that as so long as you are cooperative there is nothing to fear from me or my colleagues.

"Now, on to the questions. First, what was your entire mission? Second, who exactly was your message sent to? Third, where are your friends based? Fourth, who do they answer to? Again, I remind you that so long as you answer my questions to the best of your ability and with little fuss, this episode will end quickly and painlessly for you."

The translator squinted at the interrogator, not as an act of defiance, but his vision was blurring again.

He pulled his arms up to rub his eyes, and that suprised him. Looking around himself, he was not tied up. Assuming we was under arrest, he was sure he would have been tied, gagged, and bolted to the ground. Looking back up to the translator, he shrugged.

"I do not know. I am merely a pawn... my life was to..." He struggled with his english. "Was to be.. forfiet, if I did not cooperate, and do as I was told..."

However, his mannerisms did not hint that he was telling the truth, although the conviction he tried to put in his broken english would have made a lesser man believe him.

The interrogator frowned, the tells obvious to his trained eyes, and he continued speaking in the spy's language, "I'm sure you would be more comfortable speaking in your own language. Now, were you quite awake when I told you that your life is forfeit here, as well? If that is your only motivation, then I would suggest you begin telling the truth forthwith."

With a small grin and a discrete hand signal, one of the guards picked up a bucket of ice cold water and simply dumped it on the spy while the other guard dropped the temperature to 50 degrees Fahrenheit. "There, that's better. Now you are awake and you can hear my questions without fault. First, what was your entire mission? Second, who exactly was your message sent to? Third, where are your friends based? Fourth, who do they answer to? Answer quickly and truthfully, please, because if you do not then this will quickly become truly unpleasant for you."

Salim contained a small squeek as the cold water washed over him. His first instinct was to stand up and attempt to throttle the guard, however, his mind told him otherwise. So he stayed seated, now weat and holding his arms.

"Cold water? Do no insult me. Just because I am from the deserts does not mean I can't stand a bit of cold water. Winters in our homeland can get quite cold." He spat, vengeful eyes trying to stare the interrogator down. But he knew this would get him nowhere, so he retreated back to his original tone.

"I do not know any of this information. Upon landing, I was told to keep in touch through my new contact through my laptop." He sighed. "They claimed to be with the Awakening... do not ask me who they are, but they say they have connections to the ACIF. Of course I did not believe them, until they showed my own secure record to me, and of a few others.. and other operations. Naturally I listened."

The interrogator chuckled appreciatively, "To be honest I would've been disappointed if you had just come out with it. Whatever your incompetence with armed conflict, you are clearly skilled enough to have fooled the Raj and his loyal security. But, I would like to eat dinner with my family and therefor I do not really have the luxury of waiting you out with sleep deprivation and continuously droning questions. Since you are being uncooperative, you will suffer for it."

With a nod the interrogator gave permission for the guards to do their thing and leaned back to watch the show. The guard who had thrown the ice water quickly strode forward, seized and rotated the man's arms so they were locked into position, and then pulled them back and together to the point of being painful. The net effect was that the spy was forced to stand, although bent over at the waist, lest the pressure dislocate his shoulders. The other guard approached the spy just as quickly and jabbed a knife-edge hand into the man's armpit and then followed it up with a sharp knee to the solar plexus. The quick one-two hit to major nerve clusters was guaranteed to drop a man and make him scream in excruciating pain.

And that he did.

He rolled on the floor slowly for a couple minutes, catching his breath and holding his chest. He did not bother to get up before he spoke, rather staying on the floor laying on his side, still curled from the blows.

"Praise Allah! Even if I knew, I would not tell a heretic such as you and your cronies. You are getting in the way of divinity." He clenched his fists and eyes, trying to bare the pain after the initial shock.

He knew he was trapped. Either way, whether he told the truth, or lied, he would be killed or shoved into a small cage for the rest of his life. He knew all too well the foreign policies of such countries.

Groping at the chair, he pulled his upper body off the floor, and let his arm lay over the bottom of it, supporting his body.

He started talking softly, as if talking to himself. "I could not do it if I wished. Kill the Raj that is. I thought the plan was sound, bring an end to his... weakness... constantly asking the aid of other countries. He would die, and the other would lead us."

Snapping his head to face the interrogator, he bellowed. "I wish to talk to my king!"

The interrogator smiled openly now, "At last! Some truth escapes your lips. Unfortunately for you, the truth that escaped is not the particular truth I'm interested in."

With that he stood and nodded to the guards. While the guards helped the man into his seat and then held his shoulders firmly so he could not escape, the interrogator pulled a standard issue 10mm Caseless automatic from a Small Of the Back holster and took aim at the man's ankles, firing a couple of quick and expert shots. "I'm sorry for that, but I sincerely believe you know what I need to know and you are being intransigent. This will not do. I will keep shooting your joints out until you tell me the truth and if you fail to comply I will move onto more extreme measures."

He screamed loudly and clenched his ankles, as the blood started to pool on the ground below him.

His head stayed down, and his body rocked back and forth in pain and anquish. All that could be heard were the quiet prayers he uttered to himself, something about forgiveness and perserverance. However one word he said out loud.

"Infidels...."