The Ivory Jaguar
17-06-2008, 17:47
“It has been a long time,” Phenex rasped. He had had such a voice once, a voice to move men and women to tears, or to great heroic deeds. That had been before the assassination attempt that nearly claimed his life. “A long time since we have had anything to do with the outside war. And now, when we return, it is as conquerors, hmm?” He broke off to cough violently, a fit with lasted long enough for his Council to begin to look worried.
General Asriel, the Minister of Conquest, even stood up to come to his leader’s aid, but Phenex waved him back to his seat. “Relax,” he said, “I do not plan to die yet. Not with so much work yet to be done. Not with a whole world yet to be conquered.” He rose to his feet. “We could crush them of course. This Federal Ireland is not even a tenth our size, and has few allies in the world. But a full scale military operation would be costly, and without some form of justification, might lower our standing in the world. Remember, we are playing the Longest Game, and must plan accordingly.”
“A small scale operating, then?” Asked Asriel. “Four centuries, perhaps, to secure their centers of government and prevent any organized resistance? The First can be ready within hours, and any other three within a few days.”
“Yes,” said Phenex, slowly. “A quick, brutal thrust, preserving as much infrastructure with as little collateral damage as possible. Which still leaves the question of justification.”
“Simple,” said the Minister of Public Relations, Dirk Hardy. He was a tall man, handsome in a way that was generally described as making women want him and men want to have a pint with him, with a smile that said ‘trust me, would this face lie?’ He was known among the Council, with widely varying degrees of fondness, as the Spinmaster. “We put them in a position where they start the war. Park a battleship offshore, tell them we don’t see what the problem is, wait for them to get cross, and bada-bing bada-bang, amiright?”
“I hate to admit it,” said Admiral Julia White, the Minister of the Navy, grudgingly, “But Hardy has a point. I can have a ship off their coast before midnight. Sooner or later they’ll demand a surrender. They give up the ship, we issue an ultimatum, when they don’t meet it, we come in and smash them.”
“Then do it,” said Phenex, sinking back into his seat and lapsing into another coughing fit.
***
“Does this bother you at all, Captain?” Asked the mate, as a flashing light on the display before him indicated that the battleship- one of the most powerful assets at the disposal of the Naval Ministry- had crossed into the territorial waters of Federal Ireland. “Being bait, and all, I mean?”
The captain shook her head. “No,” she said, “It’s my duty, and I swore to do that when I took the uniform, no matter where it led me. And it could be worse- they could have ordered us to go in guns blazing against the Questerian Navy. This way, what will probably happen is that we’ll spend a few days in lock-up, a couple of months at the most. At worst, we fight our way back out of their territorial waters.”
The mate shrugged and turned his attention back to the displays, awaiting the response from the people they were supposed to be provoking.
General Asriel, the Minister of Conquest, even stood up to come to his leader’s aid, but Phenex waved him back to his seat. “Relax,” he said, “I do not plan to die yet. Not with so much work yet to be done. Not with a whole world yet to be conquered.” He rose to his feet. “We could crush them of course. This Federal Ireland is not even a tenth our size, and has few allies in the world. But a full scale military operation would be costly, and without some form of justification, might lower our standing in the world. Remember, we are playing the Longest Game, and must plan accordingly.”
“A small scale operating, then?” Asked Asriel. “Four centuries, perhaps, to secure their centers of government and prevent any organized resistance? The First can be ready within hours, and any other three within a few days.”
“Yes,” said Phenex, slowly. “A quick, brutal thrust, preserving as much infrastructure with as little collateral damage as possible. Which still leaves the question of justification.”
“Simple,” said the Minister of Public Relations, Dirk Hardy. He was a tall man, handsome in a way that was generally described as making women want him and men want to have a pint with him, with a smile that said ‘trust me, would this face lie?’ He was known among the Council, with widely varying degrees of fondness, as the Spinmaster. “We put them in a position where they start the war. Park a battleship offshore, tell them we don’t see what the problem is, wait for them to get cross, and bada-bing bada-bang, amiright?”
“I hate to admit it,” said Admiral Julia White, the Minister of the Navy, grudgingly, “But Hardy has a point. I can have a ship off their coast before midnight. Sooner or later they’ll demand a surrender. They give up the ship, we issue an ultimatum, when they don’t meet it, we come in and smash them.”
“Then do it,” said Phenex, sinking back into his seat and lapsing into another coughing fit.
***
“Does this bother you at all, Captain?” Asked the mate, as a flashing light on the display before him indicated that the battleship- one of the most powerful assets at the disposal of the Naval Ministry- had crossed into the territorial waters of Federal Ireland. “Being bait, and all, I mean?”
The captain shook her head. “No,” she said, “It’s my duty, and I swore to do that when I took the uniform, no matter where it led me. And it could be worse- they could have ordered us to go in guns blazing against the Questerian Navy. This way, what will probably happen is that we’ll spend a few days in lock-up, a couple of months at the most. At worst, we fight our way back out of their territorial waters.”
The mate shrugged and turned his attention back to the displays, awaiting the response from the people they were supposed to be provoking.